#POV it's hard to say goodbye | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peachysunrize · 21 days

Text

Labyrinth ⥃ Aemond Targaryen

Summary: falling in love is easy for most people, but not for Aemond Targaryen. How can a broken cold-hearted man be able to love the most gentle human Westeros has ever seen?

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, very very gentle, angst angst angst angst!!!, humiliation, reader is Daemon & Laena’s oldest daughter, no description for reader (besides white hair) you can imagine her however you like, Aemond is a vulnerable & insecure baby girl, like he is really really insecure, mentions of murder, fluff, nightmares, chronic pain, mentions of Aemond’s injury, anxiety attack, babes are in looooove, English isn’t my first language<3 it’s very heavily plotted and the smut is at the end of the story.

Word count: 11.5k (she's so long but worth it)

a/n: I’ve always wanted to write something with this kind of trope, especially when it’s from the man’s pov, and there’re so little fics that get into the depths of Aemond’s pain and suffering so I needed to try and write something that says his part of the story as well! Please please tell me your opinions and favorite lines of this piece! I’ve worked sooo hard for this fic and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did! Reblogs and comments are appreciated<3🩷

A very special thank you to my babies, @namelesslosers & @neptuneiris for beta-ing and supporting my ideas😭🫂✨

“Where is duty? Where is sacrifice?”

Aemond watches the scene unfold in front of him; his mother seeking justice for him, slashing Rhaenyra’s forearm with the dagger in her hand, spilling her blood in fury.

He looks around the room, finding you scared behind your grandfather, looking at him with wide teary eyes. He scowls when he sees how you look at him with pity, thinking he is a deformed monster in your eyes, to his best friend’s eyes.

You leave the hall in a rush, and he scoffs at how unbearable he must look for you to go in such haste, allowing this injustice to wreck his world and him to cope with the aftermath alone. How could you leave him like that? What happened to all the hours he helped you build that stupid sandcastle next to where Vhagar lays? Did you forget every moment, every laughter you had together?

He stands up and walks to his mother, telling her that Vhagar is worth it. But is it true? It might be worth gaining the largest dragon alive, but in the back of his mind, he thinks about how he has lost you.

No, you left him, he hasn’t done anything wrong. He is the one with his eye in a tray, he is the one who needs tending to for the first time, and you left him while he and his mother were humiliated by Rhaenyra and her bastards.

The morning comes sooner than expected, the milk of the poppy knocked him out immediately last night. He walks down the stairs where his family is gathering to leave, his mother holding Helaena’s hand while god knows where his father is, probably saying his goodbyes to his daughter and Princess Rhaenys.

Aemond moves toward the hill that Vhagar is sleeping on, catching the sight of you waiting for him next to the sandcastles he helped you build yesterday after your mother’s funeral.

“What do you want?” he asks, standing in front of you, trying not to frown too much to loosen his stitches.

“I-I wanted to ask how you were doing…”

“After leaving me all alone? You were my friend! I needed you and you left me! And you ask how I am after I got my eye cut out?” He shouts at you, waking up Vhagar from her drowsy nap.

“I-I don’t have any excuses, but Aemond, please—” “No, I hate you! I hate your stupid hair, your eyes, your laugh, even-even your sandcastles! They are so childish and-and ugly!” “I know you are upset with me, and I’m so sorry for what happened to you, but please let me—” “No!” he yells at you again, marching toward the castle next to your feet before he stomps all over it, screaming and crying while he ruins the perfect sculpture he himself has made for you.

“Aemond…” the sob that wrecks through you makes him stop, but you are not looking at his feet, you are looking at his face, crying for him. He doesn’t spare a glance at you when he walks to climb Vhagar’s saddle, but guilt overwhelms his emotions and dread fills him.

You just wanted to talk, and he treated you so poorly even if his anger was justified.

Oblivious to him, as soon as he and his family were gone, you ran to your grandmother, crying in her arms and begging her to allow you to study with Maesters, in hopes that someday you may help your childhood friend with the pain he will carry for the rest of his life.

•••••••••••

Jacaerys’ name day, another pathetic excuse to have his sister and her pups in the capital under the same roof, drinking and wasting the crown’s money. He can’t blame them though, they’re desperate to get on the lords’ good sides by showing off their heritage, going with songs and praises for the heir after his mother.

Unnecessary, stupid…

Aemond groans, running his hand over his face as he wakes up with the sounds of banging in the hallway. He knows that they’re arriving today, and he’s aware that the royal chambers should be ready when his sister makes a face, but to wake him up at such an early hour after the rough night he had should have severe consequences.

With another deep groan, he sits up on his bed, looking at the sea from between the sheer curtains of his room, watching the sunlight shine bright on the surface of the water, Sunfyre and Dreamfyre already taking turns in the sky over the city.

He stands up, looking down at the soaked undershirt he had on during sleep, exhaling deeply as he pulls the fabric off, slamming it down on the couch as he walks to the balcony to get some fresh air. The morning breeze hits his sweat-covered chest, stinging the empty socket of his eye.

He knows he should go back inside, to cover his scar and avoid pain from the cold wind, but the contrast of the coldness of it on his heated skin is soothing his mind, calming his beating heart. He will regret it during the day, but for now, after experiencing yet another nightmare, he needs to feel alive again.

As soon as the sharp pain starts from the depths of his skull, he moves back, shutting the door and pulling the curtains closed. He stands straight, his nails digging inside his palms as he controls, or tries to control his breathing.

It always starts like this; a sting, then another one but sharper, then a minimal pain that surrounds his scar, and finally, the stabbing pain all over his face followed by the worst headache someone can ever endure.

He reaches for the nearest surface he can lean on, knuckles turning white as he keeps his weight up, trying not to fall on his knees just yet.

He can do it, he has done it countless times.

Aemond steadies himself on his feet before he sighs shakily, walking towards the clothes his mother’s servants laid down for him yesterday. It is a simple outfit; a leather tunic with black pants and a fresh beige undershirt. Nothing too fancy, and nothing less regal that a prince should wear.

He takes his time while getting ready, allowing the phantom pain of his eye to fade away slowly. Before he can button up his tunic, his chamber servants come running in, putting a bowl of water with a warm towel on the side desk while they prepare his breakfast. He covers the left side of his face with his hand so as to not scare them with the unbearable sight of the empty space in his face.

He watches them with a sleepy gaze as they clear the room, slamming the door behind them. Aemond sits in front of his mirror, taking the brush in his hand to untangle his unruly hair.

There are no thoughts in his head as he stares blankly at his reflection; he hates his scar with a passion that could set the realm on fire. There is no gentleness in his features, everything is sharp, angular, and rough. There is no trace left of the boy he was before his nephew took out his eye.

Doomed before he could even try to become someone worthy.

He ties his hair, revealing more of the healed wound and the dark empty socket on his face. Sometimes he gets stuck inside the labyrinth of his head, running and running until he reaches the middle, but it’s never enough. At the end of the maze, someone drops dead; whether he kills them or they kill him. There is no escape from these dreams, from these self-destructive thoughts that haunt him day and night.

He reaches for a box on the vanity, pulling out the sapphire gem before reaching for an ointment Maester has given him to help the gem fill his eye socket without pain.

He looks at himself again; he looks less like a brute, the gem adds to his beauty but in his mind, it’s not enough, it’ll never be. He sees his brothers, healthy and handsome, being subjected to women’s attention all the time, and sometimes he wishes desperately to be in their place, to be able to talk to a lady without frightening her. But he has learned that a maimed man is less worthy than a whore in Streets of Silk, so he exercises and trains daily to become worthy again, to live up to his Targaryen name. There are deep yet little scars adorning all over the skin of his hands and arms — a reminder of how he has become the man he is.

He eats his breakfast in silence, tension rising in his shoulders as the smoke of the candles on his desk reaches his eye. He drops his spoon on the table, blowing the candles out before he reaches for his eyepatch.

He has told everyone that there shouldn’t be any scented candles in his rooms, but as it seems no one ever pays attention to what he has to say, not even to help with the pain of his eye.

He stands up, knocking a few plates on the table to the floor, smearing fresh fruits on his carpet. A deep groan rumbles through his chest, but he can’t care less about anything other than the fact that he needs to join his family in the throne room — and he does after he grabs his dagger and secures it in his belt.

“Ser,” Aemond nods at his appointed guard, earning a ‘good morning, my prince’ from him. Aemond walks down the stairs with his head held high, scoffing at the servants who make a path for him hurriedly, trying to avoid being seen by him or see him.

The bustling of the castle is irritating; everyone is running from one corner to another and decorating the keep for their princess’ arrival. He is not annoyed that he has to reunite with his sister and nephews, but because he has to endure their presence for longer than necessary, to look them in the eye and act civil as if the pain he copes with already isn’t enough torment from them.

He nods at Ser Cole, who follows him into the crowded hall, eying everyone who is waiting for the Realm’s delight. Aegon and Helaena are standing side by side, his sister is clutching Aegon’s arm tightly as the crowd makes her feel small under its gaze. His mother looks at the throne silently, and he can see the hesitation in her eyes — how are they going to go through these weeks of celebration, they have no idea.

“Good morrow, Mother,” he whispers as he stands behind her, his eye softening at the small smile she gives him, “you look radiant this morning.”

“Hush you, sweet talker,” she chuckles lowly, rubbing his arms lovingly, “have you heard about the Velaryons’ arrival?”

“Lord Corlys is coming as well?” he asks, shifting on his feet nervously, his fingers tightening slightly on Alicent’s elbows, “I did not know…” “Neither did I, darling. They shall arrive at the same time as Rhaenyra, at least I know Daemon’s eldest will.”

“Driving on dragonback, obviously,” he mutters, sighing shakily.

Alicent notices his hesitancy, she gently cups his cheek, forcing him to look her in the eyes, “Do not project your anger on her, she was but a child.”

“Yet she kept silent that night. She was supposed to be my friend,” he says, looking away from his mother, lowering his head in shame, beating himself for letting his emotions take hold of him.

“Give your courtesy and leave if you wish not to talk to her,” Alicent smiles sadly at Aemond, patting his cheek before they both look at the doors of the hall.

Something in his guts drops when he sees Rhaenyra entering, her family walking towards them, all smiling and laughing as if they aren’t going to experience the most dreadful weeks of their lives.

“Your grace,” Rhaenyra says, trying to break the visible tension between the families. The crowd goes silent, and the only thing they can hear is the soft exhales of the people close to them, everyone waiting with bated breath to see what happens in a few seconds.

“Princess,” Alicent smiles, “welcome back to your home,” she replies politely, giving Daemon a half courtesy before she congratulates Jacaerys for his eight-and-ten name day.

“Aegon…”

Aemond looks away from his sister as she acknowledges them all, instead his eye finds Daemon’s who is staring back at him with a smirk on his face. Aemond’s gaze doesn’t waver, and Daemon chuckles at that, giving him a challenging look.

He looks back at Rhaenyra who says his name, giving him a forced smile before she turns around quickly and asks for the King.

“He is quite unwell, he shall join us in the evening,” Alicent explains, telling the maids to make haste and set the garden ready to start the celebrations; nothing too fancy for the noon, a tea gathering in the garden to reunite everyone, or at least to make sure the court has something to gossip about.

Aemond follows them slowly, taking time to observe each and every one of them. He can’t shake the uneasy feeling that settles in his chest as his eye finds Lucerys Velaryon, laughing and looping his arm with Rhaena. He looks away immediately, lips forming into a sneer as he walks with his hands behind him, grinding his teeth while he thinks about how he was robbed of everything good because of that bastard, because of the hideous scar he gave him.

The garden is filled with new bushes; roses, lilacs, daisies, and surprisingly winter roses. The sight would have been quite beautiful if all this fuss wasn’t for his nephew. He walks away from the crowd, making his way toward his siblings who are trying to appeal content with the events. Helaena is in her own world, lifting a worm from the ground as she counts its feet. Aegon is gulping down his wine while he listens to Daeron telling him about whatever book he has read these past few days, or at least he seems like he is paying attention.

Aemond sighs, grabbing a goblet of wine himself to nurse on it as he tries to distract himself from the chilly wind that hits his face. Luckily the eyepatch covers his eye socket fully and doesn’t let the cold breeze hit his scar, but the tension in his bones has remained from the morning rush of pain he experienced earlier. It’d be best if he left this pointless gathering earlier anyway.

“How are you faring this beautiful morning, brother?” Aegon asks him, grinning sarcastically. Daeron groans in response, even though the question wasn’t meant for him. Everyone can tell he is fed up with Aegon’s constant teasing of Rhaenyra’s family coming back to Red Keep.

“Well enough to know I will be leaving in a few minutes,” Aemond replies, sipping on his wine as he catches Luke stealing glances at him. Pathetic, he is too scared to even look at him properly, he is glad though, it gives him a sense of comfort to know the mark he has left on his face scares him enough to keep him away from him.

“Can’t do that! It’d be rude if you left without saying hi to our favorite Velaryons.” Aegon smirks, tipping his head back as he laughs at Aemond’s sneer.

“As much as I hate to say this, but the idiot is right; you can’t give them more reasons to resent us,” Daeron says, looking at his older brother with kind eyes, “besides, they are here anyway.” he points at the passageway leading to the garden, catching the sight of Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys walking side by side toward the crowd.

Aemond’s heart stops for a second when his good eye lays upon you, following your grandparents with a gentle smile grazing your lips. You are a sight to behold; silver hair falling around your shoulders like curtains of moonlight that shine bright like a diamond beneath the morning rays of sunshine. Your gown the bluest of blue that shows your devotion to your mother’s house, and your lips painted pink in the most alluring way…

Aemond’s eye sees a sight his mind can not comprehend, too unreal and beautiful that makes him doubt if he is seeing you with his sapphire eye through the patch.

His face is blank, but his heart is beating so fast he can hear his pulse in his ears. His eye follows you, watching you bow before his mother and sister, looking away immediately to find your sisters already giddy to hug you. Rhaena is the first to run to you, wrapping her arms around you while Baela approaches you slowly, letting her twin have her moment with you.

He doesn’t move from his spot, he can’t move even if he wants to; he’s struck between shock and something he can’t pinpoint; he can only say for sure that he hopes it’s a rush of adrenaline of not seeing you for so long.

The only time he looks away from you is when Daeron pats his back and encourages him to join everyone to say hello and welcome your family to the Keep. He doesn’t need to say a word, just a nod at both Corlys and Rhaenys is enough, but when you turn around to greet him and his siblings, his breath gets stuck in his lungs.

You look at him from beneath your lashes, beaming so radiantly at him that he almost forgets the pain in his eye or the pain he has caused you the last time he saw you. The world around him fades away, the noises become distance as his sky-blue eye finds yours easily, and he has to swallow sharply while he desperately tries to keep his face stoic and serious and not show you how he is panicking from inside, palms sweaty and lips drying while he gazes at you, his childhood friend who… suddenly the bubble around you breaks and he remembers how you abandoned him that night at Driftmark.

“My lady,” he says in a hushed tone, watching your reaction closely.

“My prince, it’s so good to see you again,” you grin at him, “I hope you are doing well.”

“As well as a half-blinded man can do,” averting his eye from you, he regrets the words he said immediately, flushing a bit in embarrassment, but when he looks back at you, your smile hasn’t left your face, if anything you look at him with empathy and much kindness that he has a hard time believing you are real; it’s been too long since anyone has looked at him with such sincerity.

“Darling,” Daemon steps closer to them, ruining the moment for Aemond to say something, anything to take back what he said earlier.

He watches your smile wavering a little when you look at your father, hands fidgeting with the skirt of your dress. He notices how you try to ignore your father and Rhaenyra as they approach you, a tense smile on his sister’s lips while she tightens her grip on her husband’s arm.

“We have missed you, the girls, and I,” Daemon says, reaching to caress your hair as gently as the Rogue prince can, “you did not visit us at Dragonstone.” “I don’t like it there, the castle unnerves me,” You reply softly, “I rather enjoy the silence of grandsire’s castle.” “You are a Targaryen, you should visit your ancestor’s sit,” Rhaenyra tries her best to persuade you to think about coming back with them, leaving your lovely grandparents alone.

“I’m a Velaryon just as much as I’m a Targaryen, but ‘tis not a matter we should discuss at such a joyous day, don’t you think, princess?” you say, and Aemond sees it in your eyes how desperately you wish for the conversation to end. Aemond watches his sister’s words falter, her confidence crumbling with each word that you utter. Your statement is not rude, not even filled with malicious intent, but the mention of your Mother’s side of the family makes the Targaryen couple uncomfortable.

“I would have loved to stay and talk with you, Father, but I’m afraid the journey on dragonback has left me starving. Please, excuse me,” you nod at them before walking past them to the corner where Aemond and his siblings were sitting minutes ago, reaching for a glass of wine to gulp down.

Aemond doesn’t spare a glance at the couple, following you closely so he can sit in silence and out of the sun, truly not wishing for another fit of agony that consumes his skull.

“You have grown, Aemond,” you sit beside him, turning your head to look at his side profile, “no longer the child who used to build sandcastles with me when I would visit the Keep.”

“Yes, no longer a child with friends. Spending years apart without any contact, surely you are not that surprised how I have turned out to be,” he scoffs at your words, frowning when he turns around and finds you chuckling gently, “Did I jest about something I’m not aware of?”

“No, no, I just remembered how we promised to never let anyone break us apart, but you were the first who did so; you stomped your feet on my sandcastles the morning after my Mother’s funeral. You are right though, no ravens were exchanged, but I do hope you’re still the sweet prince who helped me study.” your lips twist into a small smile.

You are not angry with him, how can you not be angry with him? You had spent hours after they freed your Mother’s soul into the sea to find the perfect place to build your sandcastles and he ruined them the morning he was about to leave.

Your teary eyes have haunted him from that moment to this day.

“I apologize, I did not wish to remind you of that night,”

“I’m reminded every time I look into a mirror, do not concern yourself.” his reply is curt as he gazes at you, your eyes full of sadness and sympathy for a man you no longer know. Or maybe you know him too much, he thinks.

“I look forward to spending time with you, my prince. I hope we can catch up on each other's lives.” “Perhaps we can,” he sounds unsure of himself, Getting to know you again while you have turned into a woman grown — the most beautiful woman he has ever seen at that — is going to be a challenge he does not know he welcomes or fears greatly.

•••••••••••

He leaves sooner than he should, hiding in his room with a warm towel on his face as he soothes the pain of his eye, the headache he had since morning finally fading away. There are so many thoughts lingering in his head, and ironically, they are all filled by you; your gown, bright smile, and gentle personality.

He groans, so frustrated that he has met you a few hours prior yet you have consumed his every thought. If he focuses hard enough, he can see the labyrinth of his nightmares, the hedges are covered in ivy, suffocating as they reach for air — he thinks of him as the hedge, and how easily he has let you wrap yourself around his thoughts this quickly.

Weak, he thinks to himself, he’s weak.

He sits up, dropping the towel in the bowl on his nightstand, breathing deeply as he looks around his dark room, spotting a lit candle on his desk in the corner.

Sometimes it baffles him how his room represents his inner self so openly; it’s not messy, no, but if you squint you can see the abandoned book in the foot of his chair, ink dripping from his pot on the carpet, the candle illuminating the trail of black paint on his desk. It seems as if his room is showing the ugly part of itself to his eye, and for a second he thinks about how he sees himself — an ugly monster with an unsightly scar.

Aemond leaves his room a few minutes after fixing his eyepatch and hair, walking to the king’s solar to join his family for dinner. He walks with his hands clasped together behind him, looking straight to avoid eye contact with anyone who sees him on his way up the stairs. He doesn't expect to see you of all people, heading out of your room to take the same path as him.

“Aemond!” You say his name with such enthusiasm that has his heart racing again, beaming at him as if you are excited to see him. How could you be this giddy to meet him? No one has expressed to be happy to spend time with him, let alone smile at him the way you do. Is this an act of modesty? It has to be, he thinks, or else it does not make sense at all.

“My lady,” he bows his head politely, “How come you are late for such an interesting gathering?”

You giggle a little, walking side by side with him, “I was spending some time with Helaena’s children. Oh, they are such sweet babes!”

“Indeed they are,” he replies quietly, watching you curiously as you round him to stand on his good side, “what are you doing, My Lady?”

“I did not realize I was on your blind side, Aemond, forgive me,” “There is nothing to forgive,” he sucks in a harsh breath, pondering over your response for the rest of the way til King’s solar. The silence is oddly comfortable even though he gets a bit nervous when you keep glancing at him.

There’s an unusual warmth spreading through his chest, he can’t understand it — it can be his heart since it’s beating too hard and fast, or perhaps even his lungs! He can’t even breathe properly, but at the same time, he feels… right, much better than before. He blames you for the conflicted emotions, it’s all your doings, he is sure. Because whenever he looks at you, he feels as if his clothes are suffocating him, his ears ring while the world fades around him, and the center of his world becomes you.

Weak, worthless, he has just met you, yet all these years apart seem blurry to him, as if he has known you since the age of the Firstmen; so familiar and comforting, even though you left him alone the night he needed you the most.

The guards open the door to the solar, and Aemond follows you inside, his eye wandering all over the room, taking his surroundings in. His mother and Rhaenyra are sitting at the table, his nephews are standing on their mother’s side while Aegon is trying to listen to whatever lecture Otto is giving him.

He watches you walk to your sisters, wrapping your arms around Baela and Rhaena as they both start talking to you about the things they have done during the past years you’ve been Lord Corlys’ ward in Driftmark.

“You’re staring,” Daeron says out of nowhere, pulling Aemond out of his thoughts but he doesn’t look away, he keeps his eye trailing on you until you turn around and catch his eye as well, smiling broadly at him.

“I am merely observing,” he replies, but knows his brother is right. It’s only the first dinner but he can already feel his eye itching to be on you again.

“Whatever makes you happy,” Daeron shrugs, leading him to Aegon and Helaena to sit down.

He finds an empty seat next to him, thinking Daeron is the one who’d sit beside him, but when he sees it’s you who reaches for the chair, his heart leaps to his throat before he composes himself quickly, pulling it out like the prince he is.

You give a smile that is worth countless gold dragons, and for the second time today, he questions if the sapphire is a magical eye, because the world turns a bit brighter and less dull when he looks at you. He sits next to you, his eyebrows twisting into a deep frown when he sees Lucerys at the other side of the table engaged in a deep conversation with Rhaena, playing the role of the happy family quite well.

Everyone stands up when the guards bring in the King, everyone except for Helaena but neither she nor Aemond pays any attention to others. One is busy playing with her hairpin, and he is busy admiring your ethereal face as you kiss the king, your uncle’s cheek, thanking him for having you and your grandparents in his home after so many years. As soon as Viserys sits behind the table, you take your place next to him again, giving him a small smile before you turn your head to listen to what his father has to say.

He knows what his father is about to say; first, he thanks them all for coming, paying special attention to his grandsons and Rhaenyra while he lies over and over again about how much he loves them all, how they should never let the House of the Dragon fall into ruins, oblivious to the fact that not Rhaenyra nor Alicent were the ones who broke the family into different agendas, but it was him who started the flame.

Tonight, Aemond doesn’t look at his sister to attend to her. His eye is solely on you, taking in the shape of your lashes kissing your cheekbones, carving the silhouette of your nose and lips in his memories. He looks at the way your lips curve into a grin, cheeks forming into the most beautiful shape he has ever witnessed.

You turn your head a little to glance at him, catching him red-handed while he tries to play it cool, but he finds that he is not powerful enough to look away from your blown-out pupils and the orange hue that’s cast on your irises softly.

He breaks the eye contact, a scowl forming on his face as he reaches for his goblet of wine, nearly throwing the goblet across the table when he hears Lucerys laughing at the two of you.

You beat him to it before he could open his mouth, “Is there something funny, Prince Lucerys?” your voice is so soft and slow, almost humiliatingly sweet, and funnily, it terrifies Luke.

Aemond smirks as he watches his nephew stuttering over his words while everyone around the table sits in uncomfortable silence, waiting for the young prince to say something, anything.

“I was surprised by how fast Uncle Aemond took a liking to you, given his looks and all,” he explains, sarcasm dripping like honey from each of his words.

Fucking bastard, Aemond thinks to himself as an ugly sneer sits on his face. As much as he wants to leap toward him and cut off his tongue, he can’t — not when you put your hand on his over the hilt of his dagger.

Your skin is so smooth atop his calloused one. The way your fingers wrap around his wrist sets his body on fire, burning the skin in a way unknown to any man, but this is no ordinary burn; there’s no trace of fire, no long-forgotten ashes of his bones are visible, instead his fingers twitch for more, begging for more skin to skin contact, but he pulls his hand away from you without looking away from Luke’s blushing face.

“Your words are mean for no reason, Lucerys, given how it’s been your doing that has caused Aemond his scar,” you say, “I find him quite handsome actually. He was my beloved friend when we were younger. There are, of course, many feelings between us. Nothing has happened out of the blue for you to mock him for.”

“I-I apologize, good sister, I wasn’t…”

“It is not me who you should apologize to, it’s Aemond. I have taken no offense on my behalf but I do believe you owe him an apology.” You explain, sipping from your glass slowly while keeping your eyes on Lucerys.

No one, not even the King has the strength to intrude into the situation, maybe in doubt of saying something to hurt you, or perhaps you’re just speaking the truth, and for once, everyone fears your gentle mannerisms.

“I apologize, uncle,”

Aemond’s stare is blank as he looks at Luke who’s chewing the inside of his cheek in embarrassment. He nods, not bothering to reply to him; he will never forgive nor forget what he has done to him, crushing his hopes and ruining his worth for a lifetime.

“Let us put our differences aside, and become a family again,” the king says, coughing before he reaches to drink from his cup.

The dinner goes smoothly from there and to Aemond’s surprise, he engages in more conversations with you. He does not talk too much, he’d rather listen to your giggles and stories rather than talk about his boring and miserable life.

His eye always lingers on you for far longer than it should, not in an inappropriate way, but more in a sense of intrigue and curiosity, trying to understand you from his perspective. He simply can’t though; you are worlds apart. He is a cold-hearted, broken, and worthless man when it comes to your bright and beautiful personality. Even if he gets to know you again after so many years, he would never think himself worthy enough to be in your presence.

“Aemond…?” you call his name oh so sweetly, making him feel as if he is on top of Vhagar, flying atop the city while the wind blows in his hair; it makes him feel alive.

“Yes, My Lady?”

“Are you alright? You look quite flushed,” You smile sweetly, reaching to put the back of your hand on his cheek, flustering him even more than he already is.

“Yes, yes, I might have had too much wine,” he doesn’t know who he is trying to convince; you or him? By the sound of it, it’s him who needs to be convinced that it’s the wine in his blood and not the same unknown feeling he gets when you look at him. No, it is definitely the wine. It has to be.

“Oh, well then, I wish to spend more time with you if you are not against it,”

“Why would I be?” he asks almost too quickly, making you chuckle at his… enthusiasm. If he can even call it that.

“Then I’d be overjoyed if we could rebound what we had as children.”

•••••••••••

After the dinner, something between you and Aemond shifted; he spent more time outside his room, he was calmer and less serious, and the pain in his skull was almost gone. You joined him in the library a few times in the next few days, meeting each other at your door to attend the meals side by side, and almost everyone could feel how he was changing the longer he had you close, almost turning into the little boy he once was.

Both of you forget your last interactions as an act of mercy for the other.

With your insistence, he agreed to miss the tourney being held for Jace’s nameday to sneak out of the castle and take you to the beach. He did not need much convincing, but when you gave him those doe eyes with a little pout on your lips, he felt weaker than he ever did and gave in immediately.

Aemond helps you down the rocks near the shoreline with your small hands in his, taking cautious steps down to not trip over and hurt yourself. He keeps his eye on your feet instead of his, worrying more about you than himself even though he is stepping down with his good eye on you, not looking where he is going.

That seems to be a bad decision, because the next second, not only does his foot miss a small rock, but yours slips on one too, tumbling into his arms as the two of you fall on the soft sand, Aemond’s arms wrapping tightly around your back to keep you steady.

He looks at you, panting as his eye widens at the closeness; your faces are inches away from each other, and he can feel your soft rushed exhales on his lips. You look like a goddess atop him, the sun illuminating your silver hair, reminding him of the last sennight when you arrived and your hair made your face shine even brighter.

He has never seen such a beauty before, sure he has seen the ladies of the court, but your Valyrian beauty combined with sunlight and the blue hue of the sky has him mesmerized, not realizing how his hands are gripping your waist while he stares at you.

You giggle at first, then break into a fit of laughter while you lean more into him, dropping your forehead on his shoulder as you laugh wholeheartedly.

He chuckles lowly at first, then matches your laughter and throws his head back, holding you on him by one arm while the other comes to run over his face.

“I have never heard you laugh so freely before,” you say after you have calmed down, putting your palms on either side of his face while you hover over him.

“I don’t remember having a reason to do so,” he replies, smiling up at you.

“I’m glad that I’m able to bring joy to your life, you deserve it.” leaning down, you press a gentle kiss on his cheek before standing up, smoothing down your skirt.

He is at loss of words, speechless to his core. He deserves it, he thinks, do you truly think a monster like him deserves any chance of happiness? How are you not disgusted by him, his scar, his sour and mean tongue? How can you ever leave a butterfly kiss on someone as unworthy as him?

He looks at you from where he is staying lying on the sand, watching as you extend your hand to him, rocking on your heels in anticipation so you can go and wander on the beach and reunite with the sea.

He grabs your hand, standing up on his feet as well. There is sand in both of your clothes, but you have just begun your venture and won’t stop until you are satisfied.

You don’t let go of his hand when you start jogging, pulling him with you as you giggle in delight. And he observes you as he always does; wind in your hair, waves crashing against the shore while your laughter fills the air around him. He doesn’t realize his smile has widened and he is following you just as excited, letting the sand and the sea separate you from the outer world.

“You promised you would make a sandcastle for me!” you say, pulling him behind you to the spot where you would sneak away as children, sitting down to get to work.

“I did not,” he replies, unbuttoning his tunic so he can stay under the sun without being bothered by the heat.

“Fine, you did not. But you ruined the one we built together at Driftmark so you owe me one!”

He chuckles at you, his dimples on display as he shakes his head, “Alright, I will make one for you.”

It took you a good few hours to finish the sandcastle; it could have finished much sooner if you hadn’t thrown wet sand at him, cleaning your dirty hands with his white cotton undershirt just to annoy him — and it worked. In a second, he was chasing you around the beach with hands full of wet sand curved into balls, throwing them at you.

And here you are now, fingers laced together, shoes in one hand as you both walk on the shoreline, letting the waves cool your feet. You point at the sunset, leaning on his side when you come to a stop to watch the sky change color as the sun goes down.

Aemond on the other hand, looks at your calm face that is glowing under the pink and orange sunlight. How did he get so lucky to be blessed by such a beauty to lay his eye upon? Maybe he truly deserves this unknown feeling that spreads through him like fire and makes his fingers tingle and his heart beat in happiness. Maybe he deserves to be loved by you and love you unconditionally in return.

You turn around, dropping your shoes before you reach up to cup his cheeks. He closes his eye and basks in the attention you give him; so unique and pure. He drops his boots as well, arms circling your waist to pull you closer.

Aemond doesn’t dare to open his eye, fearing that he might ruin this perfect moment as you trace the lines of his lips, his cheekbones, and his jaw. You are so gentle with him, something he is not quite used to. It has always been him, alone in a cold room, but now and here with you, he feels as if he can breathe again, and forget every pain he has endured to reach this moment of his life.

“Open your eye, My Prince,” you whisper before you peck the corner of his lips, pulling him in so you can rest your forehead on his.

He obligates, sighing shakily when he finds you already looking at him. Your gaze is so genuine that somehow scares him, a rush of destructive thoughts comes into his head, but you seem to notice it from how his hands shake on your waist.

“Don’t think about anything, just… just focus on me.”

He does as you say, his brain shutting those annoying voices at the back of his head down as soon as your nose brushes against his, your soft lips brushing over his so endearingly. He is hesitant at first but when you peck him again, he moves forward as well, meeting you halfway until his lips are locked with yours.

You taste as sweet as the strawberry cakes you had this morning, if not sweeter. The way your lips move together makes his head hazy. You are kissing his breath away, leaving him begging for more. His chest moves up and down quickly when you break the kiss, and you caress his thin swollen lips, bruised by your kisses and lack of air, while he admires you from head to toe.

The sun has set, but the glimmer of love has risen inside of Aemond’s broken heart.

•••••••••••

A kiss here and there, more sneaking around the castle and to the beach until the main event for Jace’s birthday arrives. He is in his mother’s solar, listening to her talk about how lovely you are and how much of a wonderful couple you would make with him if only you weren’t Daemon’s daughter.

“Mother—”

“You should dance with her tonight, my darling!” Alicent says, running her hands over his arms when he stands up and approaches her, “I have heard Daemon has plans of betrothing her. Obviously, he has yet to find someone suitable, but he is thinking about it.”

Aemond’s heart drops when Alicent says your father is looking for a suiter, fortunately, Alicent sees his surprise, shock, and fear. She reaches to cup his cheek, forcing him to maintain eye contact while she talks, “Don’t let her go if you truly wish to have her. I know that she would stand strong against her father and Rhaenyra, but she would need your support and love as well to feel brave enough to turn down a good match.”

“They would make her happier than I can ever do, Mother,” he replies, his voice breaking slightly. Losing you terrifies him, and he is aware that his mother can read him like an open book, shushing him while he inhales sharply.

“I have never seen her happier than I have with you, and I have never seen you this happy and lively, darling. Be selfish for once, choose your happiness this time.”

“How can I choose my happiness over her life?!” he asks harshly, frowning at his mother.

A knock interrupts Alicent before she can respond, and the guards open the door for you to step inside the queen’s room.

“Oh, I apologize, it was not my intention to interrupt you.”

Aemond seems to be struck by your beauty; your body is wrapped in a teal-colored gown with a low neckline that leaves your shoulders and collarbones on display. Your silver hair is braided with some parts of it pinned up, some strands framing your bare neck.

“You look so beautiful, my darling,” Alicent says, nudging Aemond a bit forward when she sees how he is looking at you.

“Thank you, my queen. You look very beautiful as well,” you look away from the queen, smiling when he approaches you slowly, “you said you were going to wear something close to this color and I decided it would look quite good to match. How do I look?”

“Enchanting,” he breathes out, reaching to hold your hand, pressing a gentle kiss on your knuckles, “You look breathtaking, My Lady.”

“So do you, My Prince.”

“Shall we then?” he offers you his arm and you accept without hesitation, looking back to see if the queen will come with you and she assures you she will come with the King.

“You said you were going to retrieve me from my chambers for the party,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder as the two of you walk toward the great hall.

“I am deeply sorry. Mother wanted to have a word with me,” he explains, dropping a quick kiss on the crown of your head.

“Is everything alright, Aemond?” you ask him, and he chuckles at how adorably your brows twist into a frown in worry. “Yes, darling, she merely wished to remind me to make sure you have a great time tonight. You are our special guest.”

“Does that mean you will dance with me?” you ask, holding his hands in yours before you reach the hall.

“We shall see,” he brings your hands to his lips again, leading you toward the hall, bowing and nodding at the ladies and lords who take it upon themselves to greet you.

You come to a stop in front of the table, Rhaena coming to hug you and twirl you around, gasping at the sight of your beautiful gown, gasping even louder when she sees how your dress matches Aemond’s tunic.

A ghost of a smile finds its way on Aemond’s face as he watches you get flustered at your sister’s attention to details, but soon, his eye hardens when he finds his uncle glaring at the two of you. Tonight will change the course of so many lives.

He watches you laugh with your sisters, pointing at the empty chair next to you so he would sit close by all night. With one last glare at his uncle, he walks to his seat and pours wine into his cup, blushing a bit when he hears you laughing again. You are not even laughing at something he has said and he is the one who gets flushed.

He is knee-deep inside these new feelings but he welcomes the challenge with open arms. Or at least he tries to do so without Daemon being an obstacle to his plans.

He looks at you when Rhanea and Helaena pull you to the dancefloor for the new song, pairing up with different lords to dance with, but what catches his eye, isn’t who you are dancing with, but more than who Daemon is talking to. He recognizes the lord to be from the south, probably a Tyrell, and when his uncle and the lord look in your direction, he knows something is not right, an uneasy feeling settling deep in his stomach.

He watches the lord closely as he makes his way through the crowd to get to you, bowing and introducing himself before taking your hand to dance with you. He can see how uncomfortable he is making you, probably discussing his sick desire to have a wife and kids while he dances with a Targaryen-Valeryon goddess.

“Stop glaring and do something!” Baela slides into the seat next to him, hissing the words at him while she keeps her eyes fixed on you as well, “I don’t like you, I will never like you, but you make her happy. Do something before our father ruins her life because of Rhaenyra.” “I thought you liked your stepmother,” Aemond chooses to ignore most of the things she said.

“It’s Rhaenyra’s schemes, please, Aemond, my sister deserves to feel appreciated. I have never seen any lord take an interest in her the way you have. You are the only thing she could talk about in the last few days. I will beg you if I have to.” Aemond turns his head toward Baela, letting her words calm down the hesitancy he has toward courting you. There are far more handsome men than him in the court, yet, he is the one who is blessed to hold you and kiss you, to gaze into your eyes and see forever in them.

He hisses when he feels a sting in his skull, not now, no. The pain can’t start now. He gulps his wine before he nods at Bela and stands up to walk to the crowd in the middle of the hall, catching your eyes for a second before he has to bow and start the dance with a lady he does not care to engage in a conversation with.

He thinks about how much he has changed in a few days; there will always be a part of him who thinks he’s not worthy of your affection, that you can do better than him, but also the thought of you in another man’s arms sets his skin ablaze. He is torn between keeping you all to himself or letting you have a wonderful future with another guy who can stand by your side and make you proud, who is not maimed and scarred like him.

Luckily, everyone needs to change their partner and he reaches with his hand to grab yours and pull you to his side, grinning when he hears your delighted shriek. “My Prince Aemond,” you say, squeezing his hand while the two of you twirl around the room.

He doesn’t wish to say, but the tempo is too high for me, and it worries him that somehow he might make a fool of himself or you if he trips over someone’s shoe on his blindside.

“Lady Targaryen, you look like a Valyrian Goddess, my beloved.”

“Why thank you, my good prince. I have to say that this color truly brings out your beautiful eye,” you reply coyly, tipping your chin up while you bite your lip.

“You are playing with fire, darling.” he leans down to whisper in your ear, pressing a feather-like kiss on your earlobe without anyone noticing.

“I’m a Targaryen, Prince Aemond, fire is in my blood,”

“Is that so? Well, I must say—”

He doesn’t know what happens, or how it happens, but in a second he can’t see you when he twirls you around him, and suddenly, the weight of your waist isn’t in his hand anymore.

“Aemond!” you fall down by his feet, and he sees that his boots have caught the edge of your heels, making you twist your ankle in the wrong way and causing your fall.

What have I done?

I dropped her.

I did this.

What happened?

His eye has widened in fear, and he is frozen in place, hands shaking slightly as he feels the crowd around you look in your direction, staring and gaping at him before the hushed whispers start to fill the room.

“Aemond, look—”

He can’t look at you. He will never be able to live with himself for humiliating you in the way he did tonight.

Stupid, weak, useless good for nothing, Aemond. If another lord was dancing with her, he wouldn’t have dropped her. A prince but less worthy than a common whore.

With trembling lips, and a pain blooming in his eyesocket, he dashes out of the room, leaving you on the floor.

His vision is blurry, the pain is getting worse and the air is stuck in his lungs. He can’t breathe, no, he doesn’t deserve to breathe. How can he when all he wanted to do was to dance with you but ended up hurting you? How could he hurt you like this?

He skips the steps, running to his room while he groans in pain, the stinging is getting stronger, the agony in his nerves is spreading through his skull and it only gets worse when he opens the door to his chambers to find not only scented candles but the windows and the balcony door is open as well.

“You are dismissed!” he shouts at the guard before he slams the door shut, “Ah!” He tumbles down, gripping the nearest chair to keep himself on his feet at least before he falls on his knees, clawing at the eyepatch to pull it off as if it’s burning his skin.

The pain is like a dagger, stabbing him over and over again until even his knees don’t have the strength to keep him up. He falls on the floor, curling into a ball while the pain spreads through his face, and he finally breaks down, bursting into tears from agony and humiliation. If only he wasn’t in pain… if only his eye wasn’t cut out…

Aemond doesn’t hear when the door opens, nor he can see who the person is. Tears have flooded his vision, but as soon as he feels your soft hand on his arms, trying to help him sit up, he flinches, backing away from you while he gasps for air, feeling his tunic clinging to his sweaty body.

“Aemond, please let me—” “No, no, no, no…” he stands up hurriedly, walking to the balcony on unsteady legs to get some air in his lungs, only to be met by a freezing wind that makes the chronic pain in his eye even worse. He drops to his knees again, this time the sounds of his gasps and painful yelps are louder than before.

You rush to his side, kneeling in front of him to cup his cheeks, kissing his clammy forehead before you wipe his tears away gently. He lets you touch him this time, too exhausted to utter a word, to push you away even if he has to.

“It’s going to be okay, Aemond, let me help you,” You help him on his feet, making sure to have your arms wrapped tightly around him while he leans his weight on you, trusting you to take care of him, even though the voice in the back of his head is telling him to push you out of his room.

“Gently, my love, gently,” you help him lay down on the bed, pecking his cheek again, rising to get the smoke out of the room but his hands shot up and grabs your forearm tightly.

“Stay, please,” he whimpers, his beautiful eye tearing in pain.

“I will, my dearest, I just need to blow out the candles and close the windows, and I’ll be back in bed with you.” You reach and bring his hand to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss upon his knuckles before he lets you go.

He can’t see you clearly, but your shadow moves from side to side frantically, blowing the candles on the balcony so the smoke won’t get inside again, shutting the windows quickly so the cold wind doesn’t bother him anymore before you come to bed again.

You unlace your gown, taking it off so you can tend to him more easily, pulling at the few pins inside your head to let the strands fall freely around your shoulders. You climb onto the bed, a jar of his salve and ointment in hand with clean rags in your other as you sit comfortably next to him, helping him take off his tunic and pants.

Aemond lies on the pillow on your lap, sniffing as you look at his face; bare and raw of emotions with his sapphire glinting in the low lights of the room.

“My love, you need to help me pull the gem out,” you whisper, almost sound scared of him, or scared of what you might see.

“No, it is an unbecoming sight—”

“Nothing about you is unbecoming. You are the most beautiful man I have ever laid my eyes on, and for you and your suffering, I begged my grandma to allow me to study about your condition with the Maesters,” you lean to kiss the bridge of his nose, “the skin around your eyesocket is swollen, if we do not pull it out now, it shall make it more unbearable for you.”

He hesitates for a moment. While he would love to ask you about why you studied something so gruesome because of him, he can’t help but feel so wanted. The pain is getting worse, sure, he has to pull the gem out anyway but to hear you say how you have begged Rhaenys to let you partake in those classes, to maybe someday help him with his pain… that truly makes him feel fuzzy all over.

“Alright…” he whispers, gritting his teeth in pain as he reaches out with his fingers to grab the side of the gem, pulling it out slowly while he groans and the pain nearly knocks him out. “Shouldn’t we use something more—” “Take it out, take it out—I don’t care how!”

You nod, tears falling from your eyes as you watch him writhe in pain more as the two of you pull his sapphire out, leaving a heavily swollen and empty eyesocket on display. His hand falls limp on the bed while you drop the gem into a clean bowl before pouring some of the ointment on a rag, gently holding his face in one hand while the other daps slowly over the scar and his ripped eyelids, pressing a few kisses here and there to soothe his whimpering.

He clings to your arms and waist tightly, letting his tears fall freely while you soothe his pain away, falling into slumber easily beneath your gentle touch.

•••••••••••

He is running.

Where is he? Why is he running?

He looks around him, finding himself in the labyrinth he always sees in his dreams.

The hedges are covered in ivy, the walls have gotten taller and the paths are thinner.

What’s this smell?

He steps closer to the source of it, taking different routes until the smell gets worse and stronger. He knows where the center of the maze is, he has been here countless times.

He turns around, finding the space of the labyrinth of his dream, but he doesn’t expect to see you there, not while standing with your nightshift covered in maroon, hands dripping with thick droplets of blood as you look at him horrifyingly.

“Darling, are you alright?”

“Don’t- don’t come closer,” you say, taking a step away from him.

“I don’t understand, why—” “You did this to me!” screaming at him, your hands cover your heart, and he finally sees how your chest has been ripped open and blood gushes out of the wound.

“I was not here—”

“You did this to me! You hurt me, Aemond!”

“Aemond!”

“Aemond!”...

He jolts up, gasping for air, hands clutching the bedsheets as he experiences another nightmare. He looks at you, finding you awake and alarmed while you rub his back, eyes filled with worry and pain for him.

“You should leave,” his voice is barely above whispering, his nails digging into the palms of his hand while he blinks his tears away.

“Aemond—” “I will only hurt you, why don’t you understand?!” he asks, raising his voice a little.

He is torn between needing you to wishing you were gone; he can’t cope if he ever hurts you again.

“You have not hurt me, you won’t hurt me.” “I killed you in my dream! You fell in front of everyone and twisted your ankle because of me, I humiliated you! How can you say I won’t fucking hurt you? I have already done it.” He explains, but instead of pushing you away, he welcomes you when you pull him down into your embrace, holding his head tightly in your neck as he sobs uncontrollably.

“It’s not your fault, I should have been more careful. I won’t let you ruin yourself for something that was a mistake on my behalf.” you kiss the side of his face, rocking him from side to side while he calms down eventually.

“Don’t push me away, I love you, Aemond. Let me be here and help you carry this heavy pain with you.”

He doesn’t reply, but his arms tighten around you.

He looks at how you lay back on the pillows, gently pulling him in your arms until he is lying in your chest while you play with his hair.

“Sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

•••••••••••

He opens his eye slowly when he feels someone caressing his hair, pressing butterfly kisses all over his face. Smiling a little, he finds you admiring him in his sleep, taking notes of every line and deep of his skin.

“It’s very rude to stare,” he says, his voice thick and raspy from all the crying he did last night.

“Not when he is my lover,” you whisper back, nuzzling your nose against his, “you look like a fairy when you sleep.”

“No one has ever told me that. How do you come up with such unique ways to describe me?” He leans over, pressing a kiss on your shoulder while he waits for you to answer.

“You are a wonderful muse for poetry, I shall start writing about your hair and eye!”

He keeps his lips sealed to your skin, sucking and nibbling until he is satisfied with the marks he has left. His pupil is blown out with a newfound lust; how can he not desire you when you are lying in his arms with your wild white hair plastered over his pillows?

“You are staring,” he chuckles at how breathless you sound. He hasn’t even begun to do anything and he already has you melting under his touch.

“Can you blame me? I have the most exquisite lady of the realm in my bed.”

“What happened to the insecure boy I held last night?” You ask while leaning up towards him, pushing him down on his back so you can straddle his narrow hips.

“It’s still here with us in this room, but he has begun to heal. You have helped him when he had no one,” his palms rest on your thighs.

“I need you,” it comes more as a plea, but Aemond obliges and flips the two of you over, hiding his face in your neck to prep it with kisses while he whispers that he needs you too.

“I love you, darling,” he whispers, craning his neck to catch your lips in a kiss, moving them together with a rhythm that encourages him to take the next step.

His hand inches downward, pushing past the fabric of your underwear to find you already wet for him.

“I-I have already lost my maidenhand…”

“I don’t care, I have you now,”

He silences your whine with another deep kiss, his fingers circling your clit until you are squirming and bucking your hips into his palm, your arms pulling him in by the shoulders.

He breaks the kiss, watching you take a deep breath when he pushes one digit inside while he tugs at the front of your shift, pulling it down until your tits are on display. He covers your chest with marks and bruises the same time another finger enters you, making you gasp loudly in pleasure.

He stretches you on his fingers, thrusting them in and out slowly at first, but soon he is speeding up, his patience running thin as he scissors you open not roughly to make it hurt, but to make sure you are ready to take him.

“A-Aemond, please, need you closer,”

He nods because he too can feel the need to become one with you, to take you as his, or more so you take him as yours.

His breeches are thrown on the floor, followed by his undershirt immediately as he takes home between your spread legs, one hand holding him up while the other guides his throbbing cock to your entrance. You both gasp in union when his tip nudges past your muscles, pushing in slowly and gently until he is sheathed inside you completely.

You throw your head back, wrapping your legs around his waist while your nails dig into his naked chest as he lets you get adjusted to his size.

“Can I move?” He asks, leaning down over you as he cages you beneath him, both of his forearms holding himself up against the pillow under your head.

You nod, looking at him with pleading eyes, and he finally caves in and moves slowly; pulling his hips back a little before driving in.

The next minutes pass by him gently making love to you, circling his hips and kissing you, bringing you closer and closer to your highest point. You know you both are close when his groans and moans grow louder, and your voice matches his tone as he quickenes his pace, the loud sounds of skin slapping against each other echoing in the chambers of the prince.

You both finish together; you with a gasp of his name, and him with a loud groan of yours as he fills you and you gush around him. He trembles above you, whether it is for the climax he experiences or the overwhelming love he holds for you.

He watches your face twist in pleasure — the pleasure he is giving you — and he memorizes every sound, counting each lash that he can while he himself rides his high with you.

He drops face down on the bed next to you, both of you trying to catch your breath as you look at each other with a satisfied expression on your faces.

“They would ask about our whereabouts if we are late for breakfast.” You say, giggling when he groans in absolute disgust — he is not ready to leave this room and face the world again when he knows he can stay and take you again, thrive in your attention and love for all day.

“Must you ruin this moment for us? Now I can only think about how to face your father after what we did.”

“You should look him in the eye and ask for my hand,” you sit up, throwing the cover off of you before getting off the bed “and you shall do it with the braids I do for you,”

“You are impossible,” he says, but he knows that behind his words, there is no hidden intent, nothing but adoration and playfulness.

“Come, sit!” You pull him off the bed as well, leading him to his vanity before pushing him down on the chair, both of you stark naked as you brush his hair slowly.

He looks at himself in the mirror, and for the first time in years, his reflection doesn’t disgust him, it doesn’t scare him or make him self-conscious. He feels… beautiful, he feels worthy again of having this life, having you as his.

“Do you wish to know what I see when I look at you?” You ask him, letting his soft hair fall around his shoulders before you lean down, wrapping your arms around him, resting your chin on his shoulder.

He nods, hands coming to cover yours where they caress the skin above his heart.

“I see a broken man who needed to be saved. I see a boy, fierce and strong as he claims the largest dragon alive. I see my friend who danced with me in different gatherings, my beloved friend who built sandcastles with me and helped me with my Valyrian studies. I see my Aemond, finally freed from the labyrinth of his mind.”

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fluff #prince aemond #aemond x reader #rue:smut #rue:angst #rue:fluff

1K notes · View notes

dotthings · 11 days

Text

An outline summary of how Jensen has let out bits of Dean pov about the confession a little bit at a time.

He has chosen his words carefully for a reason. He threads the needle carefully for a reason. Let it unfold, it's not done yet.

In 2021 (dencon), Jensen spoke to Dean's confusion. He said he never played Dean knowing Cas was in love with him, which is true. That's canon. Dean didn't know even if Jensen did for months ahead of time. Jensen had to play it that way, because that's the story, that Dean didn't know how loved he is by Cas. By how he was loved. Jensen in 2021 spoke Dean's pov that because Cas is an angel, it's hard for Dean to grasp the nature of that love, that it's too much (Dean thinks) for a human to grasp, angels are cosmic beings, it's ineffable love (put this with Ben Edlund's recent tweets about "transcendental love") and it's hard to define, Dean doesn't know how to define it. In the "open to interpretation" era. (Which is now defunct, from Cas's pov. In late 2020/early 2021, Cas's confession was still being held in a cushioning of open to interpretation, there are, again, reasons for that).

In 2022 (Vancon), Jensen spoke more deeply about Dean's feelings and realizations Dean (and Jensen) had while sitting on the floor sobbing after Cas was taken. Jensen spoke of Dean's regrets and Dean wanted to say I love you too and hug Cas and about two sentient beings connecting, brothers-in-arms, Dean losing someone he loves very much. In the moment Cas was taken. And now it's even more clear, what Jensen's words at that time hinted at, that while Dean's on the floor sobbing he also had a realization about how Cas loves him and how deeply.

In 2023 (Jib 11), Jensen said the Dean and Cas reunion would be a big embrace and they'd talk about that goodbye, and maybe we'd get to see that. (more on that below).

In 2024 (Purcon 8), Jensen just said Cas's confession being romantic isn't subtext, it's text and that because Dean already had his realization that Cas is in love with him and Dean got past the confusion and "but Cas is an angel and I am a human so I can't possibly grasp that love). Dean knows. And how Dean and Cas don't need to talk about Cas's side of it. That there's an understanding between them and "they found each other." Dean knows, Dean is accepting.

So, in that moment Dean was sobbing on the floor in the bunker, Dean got hit by a freight train of realizations. Jensen is still threading the needle carefully, saying nothing too definitive or in full about Dean's feelings, beyond he reiterates Dean cares deeply for Cas. He says nothing about the reciprocation follow up. Just that there is no need for Cas to explain anything to Dean. Therefore, the confession won't be addressed. The confession itself. Because it's clear. It's known.

This timeline isn't "Jensen's evolving pov" please note. This is Jensen who has known all this about Dean, about Cas, for quite a while now, he's been opening things up in terms of how he talks about it a little at a time for public ear. Please remember all the things in play here and Jensen is the spn boss and the fraught history for the ship and how the TV industry functions.

Let it play out. It's not done yet, either in story, or in how it's going to be spoken about. Let it play out.

#Destiel #Jensen Ackles #Purcon 8

598 notes · View notes

astrolynnworld · 6 months

Text

release

pairing: dom!matt x reader

summary: you were on vacation celebrating a friends birthday while matt had to sit home slowly gaining more frustration at the horniness that overwhelmed him.

warnings: smut, pent up, language, oral, missing you, lust, a few uses of the word daddy, sex, breeding, rough, praise, soft degradation?, love bombs at the end for sure

a/n: the dom matt yall requested 🫡

word count: 1,289

matt’s pov-

I knew these three weeks without y/n would be a challenge, but I never expected it to be this hard.

y/n comes back today, and I am so excited excited to say the least.

i haven’t cum in 3 weeks.. and not all of that was by choice.

I’ve tried to touch myself on multiple occasions, but I just could never finish. It didn’t feel right.

i needed y/n. as bad as ever

but she comes back today and all of that is over.

y/n’s pov-

I grabbed my bags out of my friends car and waved goodbye as I walk up the driveway of my house.

i’m so excited to see matt. of course we video chatted a few times these past few weeks, but nothing is like seeing him in person. I miss him so much.

“matt?” i call out as i enter our home

he comes sprinting down the hallway

“BABY!!” he shouts as he gives me a million kisses and a tight hug.

“i missed you so so so so much” he says in between kisses

“okay okay” i say while laughing and pushing him off me

“i missed you too baby but i need to settle in first” i continue

“you can settle in later princess, i need you now!” he exclaims as he grabs me and tosses me over my shoulder

“matt!! what are you doing!” i say while kicking my feet trying to get him to let me go

he walks me to the bedroom and tosses me on the bed.

“you think you could leave me here alone for three weeks without any repercussions?” he states

i stay silent as i try to maintain eye contact with him as he hovers over me on the bed.

“do you know how hard it’s been not having you here at complete access?” he continues

i maintain my quietness, slowly getting turned on by his demand and neediness for me.

“when I said I missed you, I wasnu’t joking. I miss everything about you. how you look, how you smell, how you feel, how you taste.” he says slowly as he undoes my pants

“i needed you so badly.. and now I’m going to have you just the way i want you, is that okay princess?” he asks me, yet it doesn’t seem like much of an option

i slowly nod my head

“good. now get up” he demands

i sit up at the edge of the bed

“take off my pants.” he furthers

i slide him out his pants and slowly start kissing and rubbing his bulge throw his boxers.

“awe you’re such a smart puppy aren’t you? know exactly what daddy wants huh” he says in a condescending tone

he pushes my head back and lets out his cock.

his dick looked so swollen and neglected, it was already throbbing and leaking precum from only my previous teasing. i had to do something about this

I grabbed the shaft and slowly put my tongue on the tip, teasing the head.

matt threw his head back in a sigh of relief at the sensation that my mouth had only just started giving him.

I keep circling my tongue around the tip and jerking off the shaft until a dominant matthew grabs my head and pushes his cock inside my mouth

in one swift motion, I can feel his throbbing cock buried in my throat. pulsating as he pulls back and thrusts deeper each time with more lust.

I can’t help the tears that starts to flow out my eyes as I find it hard to breathe, but the only thing that kept me going, was knowing the satisfaction that matthew was having.

“fuck y/n fuck fuck fuck” he says as he keeps a steady pace

thrust after thrust after thrust, matt is relentless.

“im gonna cum baby.” he states before picking up the speed

soon after, i feel lines of thick liquid, spilling down my throat as matt releases his grip from my head and pulls his cock back.

I let out a few coughs and exasperated gasps as I try to catch my breath.

matt bends down to me, “are you okay baby?” he says with his voice laced in concern.

i chuckle at the code switch, “i just hope you planning of fucking me as as good as you just fucked my throat”

he smiles, “get on your stomach and arch your back now.” he demands

i climb on the bed and do what he says.

he slides my panties off, “look at this pretty wet pussy baby? you’re so fucking wet and beautiful”

he slaps my ass.

“is this what i’ve been missing out on these past few weeks? fuck” he furthers

bending down, matt sticks his tongue out and starts licking my pussy up and down all the way to my ass crack.

“and you taste even better than i remember.”

he starts eating at my clit while fingering me from the back.

I can’t help the noises that escape my lips I had it felt sensation in three weeks and the lust was only making him feel better.

“you sound so pretty baby, keep moaning for me just like that.” matt says before stopping this stimulation

“i need to fuck you right now before i cum again.”

he positions his cock with my hole before slowly sliding it.

I gasp at the feeling of his long cock sliding inside of me

He didn’t give me too long to adjust to his size before he starts the thrusting and deepening inside of me.

“fuck matt- omg” i say in between breaths, as the sounds of our body parts slapping together echos the room.

“mhm baby how does that feel?” he asks knowing the answer

“you feel so f- fucking good sir. s- so big and deep” i try to make a sentence while being a whimpering mess

“you missed this cock didn’t you?”

“yess daddy. of cour- course i did” i reply

calling him daddy must of set off a switch inside of him because boy did he start speeding up

i couldn’t even speak anymore. i was just making whiny moans and sounds that probably could be heard throughout the whole house.

“fu- fuck daddy please please pl- please keep going. i’m g- gonna cum.”

“cum at the same time as me baby” he says while pushing my head down into the bed and slamming his cock into me even deeper and faster as he chases his high once more.

he starts circling my clit with the hand that wasn’t holding me down into the bed and that’s when i lost every thought i had in the moment.

my orgasm comes tumbling out along with a familiar sensation of pee

“you just fucking squirted on my dick baby. you’re so fucking hot.” he says while slowing down his thrusts, trying to ride out both our highs

he lets go of my head and pulls out of me to idealize his work.

i topple over and squeeze my body to let his cum fall out of me.

he goes in the bathroom to get a wet cloth to clean us up. then comes to join me in bed

“fuck i genuinely missed you so much baby” he says kissing my forehead as he smuggles me into his chest

“don’t ever leave me alone for that long again”

i chuckle still trying to catch my breath & recover from the scene that just happened a minute ago

“i love you, sweetheart” he says as he starts playing with my hair

“i love you more bubs” i respond before closing my eyes in the comfort of his chest

——————————————————————-

a/n: how’d you guys like the story? two in one day 😝 i’m on a roll fr!

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt girl #matthew sturniolo smut #sturniolo smut #smut #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets

828 notes · View notes

lwwife · 5 months

Text

Strip Tease

Smut: Leah!Top, Strap on, role play, fluff

Word count: 1,870

Based on this request.

Leah’s pov:

“I miss you so much baby” I whine through the phone to my girlfriend who’s stood in the kitchen, phone resting against a saltshaker. She leans forward onto the bench and her cleavage spills through the top of her low-cut singlet, I squeeze my thighs slightly.

“I miss you more, I’ve been craving you, baby.”

I giggle, “Huh? Is that right?” I smirk amused at her neediness.

“Yes, god I can’t wait till you’re back”,

“So soon my love, so soon”, I reply.

Today I finally fly home. I’ve been away for 8 weeks on camp with the international team. Y/n and my mum are driving to the airport to pick me up. I told them I really could’ve just caught a cab, but they insisted. My mum claimed she wanted to make sure I was safe like always, and Y/n stated she was desperate to see me in my lioness tracksuit, which made me giggle.

“Do you reckon she’s excited” Keria shouts, gesturing to me, pointing out the photos of Y/n scrolling through my phone.

“Give it up man” I roll my eyes.

Y/n’s pov:

“Eeeeeek” I squeal as we pull up to the airport.

“Excited love?” Amanda turns her head to me, smiling, hands on the wheel.

“Just a little” I smile sheepishly.

“Where the fuck is she?” I groan stood outside the gate, “oh shit sorry, I mean-fuck.” I sigh.

“Y/n calm down” Amanda laughs, “you’re allowed to swear, I’m from Milton Keynes, haven’t you heard Leah’s potty mouth?” We both chuckle at the thought.

“What’s so funny?” my face drops at the sound of my favourite girl; I instantly turn around and latch myself onto her. “Woah” Leah grumbles at the sudden impact.

“God, I missed you so much” I mumble into her neck, arms wrapped around it, and legs around her waist. She laughs slightly,

“I missed you too baby girl”, I squeeze her hard one more time and detach myself from her. I place my hand on her jaw and give her a soft passionate kiss. “I love you” she whispers.

I grab her hand and take a step back, looking down at her in her all-black lioness tracksuit. “Give us a twirl then” I grin. I bite my lip as she spins and bring her back in for a hug once she’s back facing me. I squeeze her ass, “I can’t wait to take this off of you later” I whisper in her ear.

“Thanks, Mandy!” I kiss Amanda’s cheek as she closes the boot.

“Bye Mumma, thanks again” Leah hugs her mum goodbye. I grab Leah’s hand and we walk to the front door. The second we’re inside I push Leah against the door and attack her lips. Her hands instantly find the back of my neck as mine find her ass, tapping lightly telling her to jump. She wraps her legs around my waist, and I push her further into the door. She moans hungrily into my mouth at the friction. I begin to walk us towards the stairs, “wait” Leah says, I pause waiting for her next words, “I need to get changed”.

“What?” I question, “What are you talking about?”

“I need to get changed; we’re going out for dinner” she responds casually.

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

“No baby I made a reservation.” Leah grins. I groan loudly.

“For fucks sake” I mumble.

“That was lovely darling thank you” I turn to Leah as we walk through the front door.

“No problem my love” I smile, and we both walk upstairs to our bedroom to get ready for bed. “Not so fast” Leah stops me as I begin pulling my shirt off, I look at her questioningly, and she pushes me softly to fall onto our low-raised bed.

I smirk up at her and raise my brows, “What are you doing?”

“Well…” she leans forward, “baby”, I groan slightly, “I thought I’d make up for lost time”. She smirks, pulling my bottom lip down with her thumb.

“Oh yeah? And how were you planning on doing that?

“Strip tease” I chuckle loudly, and then quickly stop when her face remains still, “Oh you’re serious, okay, go on then”. I grin, amused.

She grabs my face and squishes it, “You shut up and stop being a smart ass, or you won’t get anything, we clear?”, I nod still with a smug smirk on my face.

Leah steps back and presses play on her phone. Suddenly ‘I Was Never There’ by the Weeknd plays through our surround sound speakers in the bedroom, I guess those were good for something, I think. Leah is currently dressed in loose black pants, a baggy button-up black t-shirt, three buttons already undone, and a black belt, and I must say she looks unreal.

Leah begins walking towards me, lust in her eyes, fingertips on a button. She stands directly in front of me and slowly undoes one. I reach forward to grab her hips, but she smacks my hands away instantly. “No touching” she growls. She moves to the next button, slowly undoing it, again, this time her entire torso from the belly button up is on full display and I’m met with the sight of a bright red lacy bra, contrasting perfectly with her newly tanned toned abs. Her breasts look fuller than ever, and her nipples are visible through the fabric, already hardened. She grasps my chin and lifts my head, so my eyes meet hers. “I picked it just for you” she smiles.

“You’re beautiful Leah”, I respond mesmerised by the divine woman in front of me. She smiles and continues to the next button, undoing the next two the same way and her shirt finally flies fully open, she moves even closer and slowly shrugs the top off whilst also lowering herself to her knees. Leah is now knelt in front of me, topless, hands running up and down my thighs. The song in the back begins to build up and Leah turns around, slowly bending over. My breath hitches slightly, and she stands back up. Moving closer than she’s been all night, her stomach at my eye level. She slowly unbuckles her belt and throws it on the bed, she then moves to unzip her trousers and my stomach revels at the sight. She lets go and they drop swiftly to the floor. Leah is now standing in front of me, in a matching, red-laced set of lingerie.

My mouth goes dry, and my hands begin to shake. I reach forward to touch her in any way I can, but she steps back and walks into our closet. I sit still on the edge of the bed, waiting, speechless. Leah begins walking out of the closet, hands behind her back. She comes to stand in front of me once again and pushes me, so I fall on my back. She brings her other hand from behind her to reveal a set of handcuffs. “I thought we could try what we talked about”, we both smirk.

Flashback:

“Baby?” Leah whispers snuggled into Y/n’s side on the couch.

“Yes darling” Y/n looks down.

“I was uh well thinking-um-I-uh” she stutters. Y/n tilts Leah’s head up,

“What’s wrong bub?”

“No no nothing’s wrong I promise, I just um wanted to talk to you about something I uh I’ve been um thinking a little about.”

“Of course, darling, you can talk to me about anything” Y/n furrows her brows and frowns slightly.

“Okay well, I kind of want to um trysomeroleplayanditstotallyokayifyoudontijustthinkitcouldbereallyfun” Leah looks up sheepishly.

“Babe, I didn’t catch a single word of that”.

“Ugh okay, I was just thinking that maybe we could try some role play” Leah pauses and looks at Y/n waiting and nervous. “I mean we don’t have to it was just an idea but it's silly just forget about it” Leah blurts out and turns back to face the tv. Y/n grabs her face.

“I would love to” she grins excitedly.

“Really?!” Leah almost shouts.

“Yes baby, I think it’d be incredibly sexy. Did you have anything particular in mind?” Leah slowly moves towards her.

“Well, I’ve always liked the idea of putting you in handcuffs and punishing you for being a bad girl” Leah whispers.

End of Flashback

Y/n’s pov:

I'm now laying completely naked on the bed, hands cuffed above my head, Leah knelt in front of me in between my legs, with a police hat on and a 7-inch strap around her waist. Usually, I’d laugh at the sight of her in a hat but her naked body, clenched jaw, blonde hair falling over her breasts and blue eyes staring through me are turning me on like never before. “You’ve been a bad girl y/n” I nod and bite my lip. “Now I’m going to have to teach you how to be good for me” she growls, nipples getting even harder. “Spread your legs for me”, I spread my legs open, and she pushed my knees back so they’re near my collarbone.

Leah begins to run the tip of the strap through my wetness. “This is what happens when you’re bad baby” She pushed it in ever so slightly and I gasp. She pulls out “You get punished.” I wriggle my hands in the cuffs, desperately wanting to scratch her back. She grabs both of my hands with one of her own and throws my legs over her shoulders. She leans in to kiss me and stops just before our lips touch. She suddenly slams into me, pushing three-quarters of the strap in, allowing me to adjust. I moan so loud my throat hurts. She kisses me hard and starts to move in and out of me slowly. Once she finally fills me with the whole strap I scream and try to move my hands again. She begins to thrust harder, each time making all 7-inches disappear. “You like that baby?” she growls into my mouth. I don’t answer her, too hypnotised by the utter bliss of being filled completely. She brings her hand to my throat, “Answer me”.

“Yes, yes, I like that, fuck I love that”.

“Yes what, y/n?”

“Yes, ma’am” Yes! Fuck!” My legs begin to shake as Leah starts thrusting harder and harder, “Fuck I’m going to cum, please let me cum ma’am”.

“Do you think you deserve to cum? Have you been a good girl for me?” My legs start to shake uncontrollably, and I can hardly hold it in anymore,

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Please! I beg!”

“Cum for me baby, cum for me” she whispers in my ear and bites down harshly on my neck. Leah thrusts in hard a couple more times and I feel myself tighten, I begin to cum all over the strap, my wetness running down to the bedsheets.

“Fuck!” I scream. Leah slowly pulls out and my body shakes even more. She crawls up towards me until she’s hovering above my face.

“Clean it up” she groans. I slowly take the strap into my mouth and suck till it’s clean. Leah takes the strap off and collapses next to me.

“Fuck I’ve missed you” she whispers.

A/N: I hope this was okay! I wasn’t really sure which direction to take this but I tried. Definitely open to feedback in my comments, messages or asks 😊

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #woso community #woso #wlw #lionesses #woso fanfics #woso one shot #awfc #leahwilliamsonsmut #wososmut

405 notes · View notes

wikiangela · 2 months

Text

we don't know where this is going now (don't be afraid of heights, let me open your heart wide)

bucktommy rating: G words: 5.6k summary: Tommy cuts their first date short, but to his surprise he gets a call from Evan just a few days later. or, 7x05 from Tommy's POV.

[read on Ao3]

It’s honestly a surprise when just a few days later, late in the evening, Tommy’s phone rings, and Evan’s name pops up. His traitorous heart beats a little faster when he answers the call and leans against the kitchen counter, where he’s been finishing up making a late dinner. “Evan?” he asks, confused but trying to play it casually. He’s good at that. He thinks years of pretending, trying to act straight, playing off gay jokes and even joining in to not make anyone suspicious made him way too good at acting cool and unbothered. He’s definitely surprised and excited, though. “Hey.” he smiles to himself. “Uh, hey- hi, Tommy, hey.” Evan stutters, and Tommy can imagine that flustered smile. “Hi.” Tommy greets him again, grinning now. “Gotta say, I didn’t really expect you to call.” “I- I know, I just- I wanted to talk?” he says it more like a question, then huffs quietly, takes a breath. “I was wondering if you’d like to grab a coffee. With me. Tomorrow morning?” he says, sounding nervous but hopeful. And Tommy- Tommy has had a very hard time trying to say no to Evan, especially when he doesn’t actually want to. Besides, they can be friends, if whatever potential for romance didn’t work out. He’d be fine with that. He’s friends with Eddie, anyway, so he’ll surely have to be around Evan sometimes, and he doesn’t want it to be weird. “If you’re not- if you’re not busy? “Yeah, okay.” Tommy responds, trying to ignore the excitement swirling in his stomach at just the thought of seeing Evan. “I can do morning. What time?” “Uh, how’s nine? There’s this place I usually go to- I can text you the location? Or we can meet somewhere you like, that’s totally-” “Evan.” Tommy interrupts softly, still smiling. Even over the phone, even still this nervous, Evan is just adorable. “I’m sure your pick is fine. Just text me, and I’ll be there. Tomorrow at nine.” he assures. He thinks if Evan wanted to meet right at this second, he’d be there in a heartbeat. Which is a surprising thought. He really didn’t want to get attached this fast, but there’s just something about Evan… “Okay.” Evan breathes out. “So- so I’ll text you.” he repeats. “And I’ll see you tomorrow.” “See you tomorrow.” Tommy says, before Evan stumbles through a goodbye and hangs up, and Tommy just chuckles to himself. He’s curious what Evan wants to talk to him about. But he also needs to be careful, because he can see himself falling for him so fast and deep and easy. He shakes his head at himself. He’s being silly and ridiculous. Evan makes him feel silly and ridiculous and giddy, and Tommy doesn’t remember the last time he felt like this.

[read on Ao3]

274 notes · View notes

mermaidgirl30 · 1 month

Text

✨Fortnight✨

Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist Part 2

A/N: This one shot was inspired by Taylor Swift’s song “Fortnight” and is written for @morallyinept Jett’s Flora & Fauna Challenge. I had so much fun with this one and was feeling all the angst! Thank you to @mountainsandmayhem for helping me make the mood board and for beta reading and for letting me talk your ear off about this one 🥰 Joel’s POV actually made me cry writing this 🥹

Summary: Moving on is hard, especially when the man you fell in love with moved in across the street from you with his new lover.

Word Count: 4.6k

Rating: 18+ Only

Tags: Lots of angst, feelings, pining, heartbreak, alcohol use, allusions to smut, tears, pov in both reader and Joel’s view, no use y/n

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The orange and yellow sunrise paints the sky bright colors as you stand in your little kitchen sipping a warm cup of black coffee. The bland taste mixes with your salty mood as your eyes lock on your neighbor across the street, Tess.

Every morning she’s out there bright and early, watering her white lilies with a metal watering can as she hums along with the chirping robins that sit along her fence line. It makes your fingers flex into tight fists, makes your brows furrow up, makes your mouth clench into a deep frown as you watch with heartache written all over your pathetic face. Sometimes you wish she was dead, just like your aching heart is. Cold, lost, broken. But you shouldn’t be mad, shouldn’t wish her dead. She’s nice, always smiling, something you wish you would do more often.

You don’t hate her, not exactly. You hate that she’s Joel’s. You hate the way he comes up behind her and hugs his broad arms around her waist as he kisses her neck, her cheek, her lips. You hate the way he dances with her in the dimly lit kitchen at night as you watch them through their open window while you stand frozen in place in your own empty kitchen. You hate the way he kisses her every single morning before she drives off to work in her flashy sports car. And you hate the way they’re engaged to be married in the fall, something that should’ve belonged to you.

You should be with Joel, you should be dancing in the moonlight of his kitchen, you should be the one watering flowers with him hanging around your waist and littering your skin with kisses, you should be the one walking down that aisle. But you’re not, and you never will. Joel was in the past. An old lover from years ago. You had broken up so long ago, so why did you still love him? You weren’t his anymore. Joel belongs to Tess now. The girl you would never be.

One month. It’s been exactly a month since they moved across the street, across from you. You remember it so clearly how it felt seeing him after all those years, like you were trapped in a glass bottle with nowhere to run. He was more built now, his biceps clinging to his flannels as his tan skin glistened in the sunlight. His hair was longer now with grey threading through his curly strands, and his beard was salt-and-pepper filled. He looked so… handsome. But then you saw her slipping out of the moving van as he laughed and helped her pull a large picture frame out of the back. You were frozen in place, the glass of milk spilling out of your hand and shattering on the floor as you stared in horror at your new neighbors. You spent the next few hours soaking in the tub with a glass of whiskey, the same brand that was Joel’s favorite. You love him, you still love him, and it’s ruining your life.

Now you just stand in the empty kitchen every morning with glossy eyes and watch them. The way they kiss, talk tenderly, and graze each other’s hands as they say their long goodbyes. It makes you so sick, especially after just finding out your long term boyfriend cheated on you with his secretary. So now you’re going through a messy breakup, one where he keeps showing up at the house randomly trying to get you to take him back. Just another lost love that wasn’t meant to be. Maybe you weren’t meant to be with anyone, destined to be lonely. At least that’s what it feels like while you stare in horror at the happy couple who yearns for one another.

When you finish your black coffee and rinse out the tinted mug, you watch Joel grab the back of Tess’s head and pull her in for a long, gentle kiss. You watch the way he leans into it, smiling against her lips as she laughs and tells him she’s going to be late to work. He just brushes it off and waves her off, blowing her a kiss as he watches her drive off into the early sunrise. It makes you sick to death.

You turn and rush up the stairs, feeling a warm teardrop slip down your cheek as you get ready for the day. You really shouldn’t dwell on their relationship, but you can’t help it, and that makes you want to die.

Before you head out, you walk down the paved driveway to go grab the mail from your brick mailbox, already dreading the day as rain clouds fill the sticky air. When you go to pull open the mailbox door, it doesn’t budge. You pull and pull, tugging with all your might until the door finally opens. You lose your balance and all your mail goes sprawling across the street as you fall hard on your hands and knees.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath as you feel hot tears prick the back of your eyes. Just when you’re pushing yourself off the ground, you see someone out of the corner of your eye swoop down and pick up the mail that litters the ground.

“Oh, no. You don’t have to help me, I’m…” Your breath hitches when you stand up and see Joel holding out your mail to you, his eyes lathered with concern as you see brown doe eyes stare down at you calmly.

“You alright?” he asks carefully as his eyebrows knit together in a tight line.

“I’m… I’m fine,” you stutter out as you reach to grab the packaged letters. You jump back as his calloused fingers brush against yours, feeling the electricity fire through your veins as you see him react the same way.

“You sure?” One thick eyebrow cocks up as he stands tall before you, his body hovering too close as you smell the scent of fresh wood and pine needles. A scent you used to smell every single night while you were in his bed, cuddled up to him in the dead of night. Now, all you smell is regret and sadness mixed together in an empty bed with no one to hold you.

You clench your jaw and try to be brave as you feel a wet teardrop escape over your lash line and slide down your face. “Mhm, I’m fine,” you barely get out as you look blankly at the cracked concrete and scuff your heel into the hard ground.

“You don’t look fine. Is everythin’… do you wanna talk?” he asks as he slowly reaches a hand out, dropping it before he touches your skin as he realizes he shouldn’t do that. That’s too much, too risky, too sacred.

You look up at him behind your thick eyelashes as another shimmery tear rolls down your wide eyes. “Everything is not fine, but no. I don’t want to talk. I shouldn’t even be here. I’m sorry for bothering you, you didn’t need to help me,” you sniffle out. You start to turn away from him, but then you feel a large hand clamp down on your wrist, preventing you from moving away.

“Hey, look at me,” he murmurs as you slowly turn and blink up at him, your eyes glazing over as you see the hurt coat his beautiful face. “Why are you cryin’, is it… that guy that keeps droppin’ by your doorstep?” he asks cautiously as you flinch at the topic. You swear you hear a hint of jealousy when he says that guy.

You shake your head and pull out of his grip as his fingertips imprint your skin in hot, searing heat. “No, not necessarily…” you mumble as you cross your arms over your chest, trying to get out of this uncomfortable small talk. Why couldn’t he just ask you about the weather like a normal guy would? But Joel Miller was no normal guy. No. He was… special.

“He hurt you?” His eyes are cold, narrowed like he actually cares what happens to you. You don’t know why. He shouldn’t even pay attention to you. You’re not Tess, you're not his to care about anymore.

“He… cheated on me. He won’t stop calling or coming over, even though I tell him to stop. He’s adamant I listen to him. Says it was an accident and that she put the first moves on him, and just a bunch of bullshit answers.”

He’s quiet for a moment as he assesses you, careful with his words as he starts again. “Have you tried hearin’ him out? Maybe he…”

“I don’t want HIM!” you scream as you feel your face burn hot as your eyes start to water. Your red stained lips quiver under the grey clouds that weigh you down to the ground, and you feel like you just said something you shouldn’t have to him.

Joel takes a hesitant step back as his brown eyes grow wide, his fingers flexing against his dark jeans as you see pain reflecting in his eyes, a mere image of yourself that’s broken, bleeding, hollow, lonely. You’re so terribly alone, and you wish he could comfort you. You really do, but he can’t. He’s not yours. Even though you so badly wish he still was.

Your wide-eyed gaze threatens to take you under as you feel regret slipping from your tongue. Why did you make such a big commotion? Why did you say you didn’t want him in that way? Fuck. You start to back up and laugh to yourself. “Sorry, I need to go.”

Just before you can make it your lawn, Joel calls your name quietly. His tone makes you turn on the spot and stare at him with the way his deep bravado voice carries through the nearly spring wind. His eyes are pensive, sad, wrecked. His jaw clenches as he shoves his hands deep in his pockets. He looks like he wants to say something, looks like he wants to spill years of held in thoughts as his jaw ticks back and forth.

“Look, I know I never got a chance to apologize about what happened.” He walks toward you, and you take a step back as you shake your head, knowing what he’s about to say.

“Joel, no. Stop, you…”

“Jus’ hear me out a second. Please.” He looks at you with big, begging brown eyes, and he looks like a wounded puppy with the way he’s staring down at you all broken and hurting, mirroring exactly how you feel. You think he might be just as hurt about it as you still are.

“Okay,” you mumble out as you stand your ground.

“‘M sorry about how everythin’ went down. ‘M sorry for bein’ such an ass to you, about all the stupid fights we had, about everythin’ we ever went through. And I’m so fuckin’ sorry for runnin’ out on you that cold February night. I didn’t… I wasn’t thinkin’ and…”

You hold out a hand and stop him right there as you shake your head. “Joel, we were young and dumb. I was the one that told you to leave. You didn’t really have to, but I never went after you, and you never came back. I thought it was over, that we were over. And clearly we were because neither of us fought to keep the other…”

You feel tears lick the backs of your eyes as you bite your bottom lip and wipe your waterline of any tears that might be escaping.

“I… I would’ve. Trust me, there’s not a day… there wasn’t a day that I didn’t think about doin’ what I did differently. And maybe… maybe things would’ve been different. Ya know? Maybe we’d still be…” He rakes a hand slowly down his greying scruff and sighs as he shakes his head. “Fuck. This is… harder than I thought it was gonna be…”

“Joel…” You place a hand slowly over his wrist and watch his brown eyes go from clear to a cloud of haze. “I know you’re marrying Tess. She told me the other day when I saw her watering her lilies. She sounded so excited, so in love,” you cringe as you drop his wrist and take a hesitant step back.

“Oh, she told you?” he asks sheepishly, a bit taken back in a sense.

“Yeah, she did.”

“I see.”

You both stand there staring at one another, eyes alight with sparks of sadness and regret, turmoil that bleeds all over the heated concrete as you face each other. Both standing on a battleground where no one even lifts a finger. It’s just pleading cries and vacant apologies left in the back of the mind. A hollow graveyard that once was a flowering rose garden.

You feel like you should go, should get in your little Toyota and drive away, but you’re so lost and you feel like the world has left you behind. There’s just one more thing that needs to be said, one more bottled up sentiment that you need to get off your chest. So you look him straight in the eyes and say it, taking your very last breath as you bleed out all over his front yard.

“Look, Joel. I’m so happy you’ve found someone that makes you smile, someone that you’re clearly so in love with. I see the way you look at her. You’re so happy. And I’m so… I’m so…” You choke on your last words as tears fill the brims of your eyes, and you wipe a falling tear away with the sleeve of your shirt.

“I’m so… happy that you get to marry the love of your life. You deserve it, you deserve all the happiness in the world. And I…”

Joel grabs ahold of your forearms and squeezes, looking at you with deep chocolate eyes that swallow you whole as soon as you look up into those brown pits of warmth. You feel it then, the absolute wretched wave that crashes over your body as you feel his warm fingertips tattoo themselves onto your skin. You feel it, the memories washing over you as they swim freely in your head. You remember taking a trip to Florida in his new truck, remember laying in the sand while he grazed his calloused fingers down your sandy skin and told you he loved you for the first time, remember how it felt to be under his body as you writhed and moaned with every touch he stole from you, remember how deeply in love the two of you were, if only for a fortnight. It was the happiest you’ve ever been with someone, the happiest you’ve ever been. Even if it only lasted for a second. He was your favorite season, favorite breath, favorite fortnight. Your forever that you wish would’ve lasted longer. But it was over. This was over.

You start to break down then, pulling out of his heated grasp as his fingertips fall from your skin. It’s too much, this is too much. You shouldn’t be here. Not with him, alone. It hurts too much, like a bloody wound that’ll never mend itself back together. The tears start pouring, ruining your mascara as you feel the rain come down slowly over your crimson cheeks.

“I… need to go.” When you turn back toward your driveway, Joel calls your name softly, like he’s afraid to speak your name, like he’s being fragile with a dying flower. You stand there a minute before turning back around, your nails embedding marks into your scraped up palms as you clench your jaw and turn, feeling another warm splash drop against your skin.

He looks so sad, so conflicted as he stares at you with knit together eyebrows, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his denim jeans as you see him slide his tongue slowly over his bottom teeth. He looks likes he’s struggling as much as you, maybe holding things back just like you are. Like the way you still love him. But it’s too late. You’re too late.

“He didn’t deserve you, you know. You deserve someone… someone that’ll make you happy. You deserve the world. And I hope you find it. You’re, well… you’re special. And I hate to see ya cry. ‘M sorry if I was the one who did that to you. And if you ever… if you ever need… ahh fuck. Jus’… take care of yourself, will ya?”

You watch his fingers flex in his pocket, like he wants to reach out, maybe pull you in his arms, tell you everything will be alright in the end, but it won’t, it never will. He’s getting married to Tess, not you. You need to move on, for your own good.

You bite your bottom lip and nod as another sniffle leaves your constricted throat. You feel another warm splash on your arm as you give him a tight smile and turn back to your empty house, a house full of bottled up pain and regret. “Thanks, Joel. B… bye,” you choke out as you walk shamefully back to your front porch, letting the door close with a bang as you slide down the back of the door and end in a muddled ball on the floor.

You let the tears flow, let them burn the backs of your eyes as you feel hot air blow through your mouth. You weren’t supposed to talk to him, weren’t even supposed to let him touch your skin, even if it was just your wrist, your arm, your heart. It’s not supposed to hurt this bad, losing him all over again, but here you are. A ruined mess curled up on the wooden floor. He was your fortnight, your favorite part of every day until he was gone. Just like now. A wilted rose petal that died years ago.

He watches you turn back toward your half wilted rose covered yard, feeling the sting of tears he holds onto as he clenches his jaw and rakes a hand slowly down his greying scruff. He hates seeing you cry, hates being the reason for it, and hates the way he wants to run across your yard and pull you into his waiting arms. He wants so badly to take away the pain, but he can’t, he shouldn’t. It wouldn’t be right. But nothing is quite right in his mind anymore. No. Not in the slightest.

He still thinks about you, the way he used to tangle his fingers in your hair as you fell asleep in his lap so many times before. He thinks about the way your soft skin felt every time he grazed his calloused fingers down your arms, your thighs, your dripping center as he’d make endless love to you night after night. He remembers it all, the good and the bad. But mostly he remembers the way he told you how deeply he was in love with you that night in Florida, promising you forever as he pulled you in for a bittersweet kiss that would be the start of the end.

He remembers it all. The stupid fights that meant nothing, the way he was so careless with your feelings that night of the fight, the way he walked out in the pouring rain and never looked back, the way he left you brokenhearted, just like you are now as he watches you fade back into the house as you rub your tear soaked eyes. And it kills him, it kills him that a small part of him still loves you. He still loves you…

How can a person love two people at the same time? He doesn’t know why or how, but he does. He still loves you.. and he hates it, he fucking hates it.

He still thinks about you, even when he’s holding Tess against his chest late at night in their bed, even when he brushes his lips against her creased forehead, even when she says quick I love you’s to him every morning before she heads off to work. He wonders what it’d be like to hear it from your lips, on your tongue. He thinks about it so fucking much that he dreams about you, night after night. And if that makes him a bad man then fuck it, he’s already a very bad man.

He may seem happy on the outside, absolutely head over heels for Tess, which he is. But also, he isn’t because that other half of himself is devoted to you. But he’s marrying Tess, not you. So he drinks, downs the whiskey night after night as he suffers from his own stupid past mistakes. A functioning alcoholic that’s drunk off heartbreak and pining that can never be. He’s royally and thoroughly fucked beyond his wreckless decisions.

He watches you every day leaving your house, climbing into your small Toyota, alone, frowning, lonely. He sees how sad you look when you catch his eyes, sees the tears well in your glistening gaze. He knows you probably must be so miserable living across from him, he sees it in the way you carry your shoulders, all hunched and wilting as your beautiful eyes gloss over every single fucking time he looks at you. He knows because that’s how he feels every time he sees you through your kitchen window, staring in a blank daze as he caresses Tess’s cheek and leaves trails of kisses up her soft skin. He knows how you feel. Because believe it or not, he’s just as miserable as you are.

When he finally sees you stumble through the front door and shut firmly it behind you, he lets a single tear fall like rain against his cheek, releasing his pent up frustration and held back feelings like the drops of whiskey he suffocates on night after night. And like the slow rush of February, he lets his feelings flow in the wind, dwindling down the quiet street as your silent cries fade into black. You were only a fraction of a moment, a sweet speck of sunshine that lit up his life, and now it was just a memory blown away by the endless February breeze.

He tries everything in his power not to run across the dew covered grass and stumble up to your porch, bang his rough knuckles against your glass door till you open up and let him over the threshold. He wants so fucking badly to wrap you in his arms, tell you everything’s going to be okay, scrape his lips across your tear soaked eyes as he kisses away the tears that he caused. But he can’t. He just fucking can’t.

He knows you’re on the floor, knows you’re crying your eyes out because of him. He shouldn’t have even helped you with your fallen mail, shouldn’t have placed his calloused and tainted fingers on your delicate and innocent skin, because that just brought back vivid images of you and him together. Imagines that are burned inside his memory as he locks them tightly away. A part of his mind that’s completely blocked off from Tess because she doesn’t know he still loves you. But it’s too late. He can’t have both; he can only have one.

So when he walks down that aisle, he’ll fully devote himself to Tess. No more silhouettes of you in his imagination, at least not when she’s in the room. He still imagines the thought of you walking down that aisle, can already see how stunning you’d look in your long satin dress, envisions you throwing your arms around his neck as he says “I do” and kisses you endlessly for the rest of his godforsaken life.

It was always you he thinks, but time was not on his side, and he couldn’t go back to the past. He’d have to choose between the two of you, and he couldn’t imagine the thought of breaking Tess’s heart. Can’t bear the thought of losing her, but then there’s you. The girl that was once the love of his life, that’s still the love of his life. But he can’t have two loves, that’s not how it works in this life.

So he drowns in his tears, goes back inside as he pours a half glass of amber whiskey, drinks it down like it’ll be his saving grace. You were only a fortnight in his tragic life, but you were the best one. His favorite fortnight. So he’ll pine, burn through the ashes of all his mistakes. He loves you, and it’ll surely ruin his life in the end.

He chases the whiskey down as he feels it burn like hot lava down his throat, letting the alcohol drive his sins away as he stares at your empty kitchen window. You still haven’t left for the morning, haven’t driven off into the glowing sunrise even though it’s half past 8:00.

He hates that he knows your routine, knows it’s fucked that he watches you every single morning. It’s like clockwork the way he reaches for the whiskey bottle as soon as Tess leaves, while he stands in his empty kitchen watching you. He’s such a bad man, but he’s known this ever since he found out it was you that lived across the street from him. That’s when all the feelings came flooding back like a torrential downpour, and that’s why he picked up his awful drinking habit again. Now he takes a shot every single time he sees you, like that’ll help a damn thing, but it never does, it only makes the feelings worse.

After thirty minutes of silence from your window, he takes one last gulp of the toxic amber drink and slides the bottle away, feeling the taste of regret and remorse on the tip of his tongue. He knows you’re on that floor unable to get up, probably staining the hardwood from your tears. He clenches his jaw, embeds his calloused fingertips into the rustic counter and curses to himself under his breath. He needs to fix what he did, needs to put his racing thoughts to bed, so he moves like lightning towards the front door, dragging his sorrows and regrets with him as his boots scuff against the tiles of the front entryway.

He doesn’t have time to process it, doesn’t have a chance to think it through, he just moves quickly. He sprints across your yard, passing half dead rose bushes that he should’ve kept alive. Now they just look like he feels, dead and wilting, both things willing to crumble under his touch.

Now he’s standing on your front porch, the burn of alcohol edging him on as he raises his balled up fist over the silhouette of your door. He doesn’t have time to think, to act, he just has to do something, anything to get you out of his drowning mind. So he stands there burning in the flames of past mistakes and fortnights.

Before his hand can move an inch, he smells it. The morning breeze carrying a whiff of fragrant, lush lilies across his burning nostrils that cloud his foggy mind. The scent of Tess. But he also smells the fragrance of wilting red roses and dewy, clipped grass. The smell of you. Both scents swirl together as he grits his teeth and lets the pain of mixed scents numb his racing mind. He’s fucked, ruined now, but he can’t have both. He has to make a choice. It's either soft lilies or scented rose petals. And goddamn it, he wants both flowers. But he can’t pick both, he just can’t. He has to make a decision. One that’ll surely be the end of him. He loses either way he chooses.

Tagging some mutuals 🩵 @msjarvis @littlevenicebitch69 @sawymredfox @bbyanarchist @keylimebeag

@casa-boiardi @vivian-pascal @amyispxnk @laurrrra @rav3n-pascal22 @magpiepills

@604to647

#jettsflora&faunachallenge #joel miller #joel miller x female reader #joel miller pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel x female reader #joel the last of us #tlou fanfiction #no outbreak au #no use of y/n #joel angst

315 notes · View notes

neonovember · 10 months

Note

Coming in HOT with some ANGST and FLUFF, having SUCH an intense emotional fight with Carmen one night. Maybe you’re both arguing about the opening of The Bear or finances or even just with communication in your relationship, Carmen just snaps about how you weren’t always this hostile. Just losing it on him and in tears crying out “YOU LEFT!! YOU LEFT ME CARMEN!! I understand what happened with you and your brother, but you just fucking left and didn’t even say goodbye!! You know how AWFUL that made me feel?! Like all of a sudden after everything we’d been through! It was like suddenly I was another face you just cut out and forgot about. It took me MONTHS to stop even just thinking about you. And then when you came back? It was as if nothing happened, but I was SO happy you were back….and now you always act like I’m some inconvenience that’s always in the way!!!! So what do you WANT Carmen?! Do you want me to stay or is this another New York situation?”. You can see Carmen’s heart shattering in his face as he just crumbles at the end begging for forgiveness 🥲. It ends maybe with the both of you holding each other in the kitchen “I’m so sorry” “No no….it’s okay….I shouldn’t have taken it out on you like that…”

All for you

this request was so good! your brain anon..😍 i hope i did it justice, this is part one of two because i always seem to be extending things that should be a one shot! i'm thinking part two should be from carm's pov? what do you guys think??

warnings: shouting, self deprecation, angst to the tenth power, no happy endings, carmen is so so so bad at communicating, unresolved tension/anger, new york carmy!

Loving Carmen was a lot of things.

It was the smoulder of colours brushed onto a canvas, it was the crash of waves in the middle of the pacific, fighting and thrashing against each other until it took you under and below. It was the spoonful of honey that eased the bitterness, it was beyond your control. A love so smouldering and bright that you didn't quite know if your heart could fit it all.

But it was also difficult, like dragging a 50 pound steel anchor every way you went. You were forever grateful to have Carmen in your life, again at least, but it wasn’t exactly like the things that he had struggled with before he wasn't struggling with even more now.

You were patient, you tried to be at least. When he wouldn’t pick up your calls for hours, when he was so caught up with work he forgot to eat, when he was so caught up with work all the last of his energy was spent on you and not himself.

You loved Carmen too hard to let him destroy himself for his work, even if he hated you for it, you couldn't watch him crumble and break from the stress of the restaurant and the overwhelming pressure he put on himself.

Especially when you saw him begin to unravel before you, melting hot wax crackling and setting form. He had begun to throw back bottles of pepto like it was water, crunching on tums like popcorn any chance he got, and it wasn't like the restaurant was doing bad, in fact it was doing amazing. Yet, it was that fact alone that made Carmen get worse, made him slip into the sinking black hole that told him one moment away from the shop, one glance off of his work and it would crumble into ash.

You had seen this in New York, where he would call you during the depths of the night, the sound of his stuttered sobs breaking any resolve you had left. You had raced to throw on a jacket and bring a pot of soup to his place even when he protested. You fed him whilst he shook against you, you whispered stories until he fell asleep, you kissed his curls.

You wondered if he knew.

You find yourself doing the same thing now, like an endless dance you both are bound to, every rational part of you wants to hate it but you can't deny the way your heart shimmers in want. Your mind moves with the familiarity of it, chasing after him like a game of cat and mouse.

Only this time you live with Carmen and not in a dingy shoebox in New York holding back every ounce of love you wanted to pour into him.

Carmen’s mind was forever connected to food, it was something so automatic it fell unconscious under his skin. You found amusement in the way he’d stand in the middle of your apartment living room in quick critic over the late night cooking shows that you would turn on whilst waiting for him to come home, or the coffee around the corner he swears isn’t actual beans.

But your soup, and anything else you made was something he had always reserved with a certain adoration. He’d whisper into the anonymity of your neck under the covers, recounting how your food was akin to a warm hug, coming home to the smell of cookies and a house of laughter and light he wished he had growing up.

You hoped he had actually eaten something today, but it was that belief that evaded your mind as quickly as it came when you reminded yourself who Carmen was. It was push and pull, and you would be damned if he didn't finish your food and then some.

Your job allowed you to work from home, and you don’t know if it was your laziness or intelligence that enabled you to make it so that you only had to work a couple hours in the day. It was sometimes strange to Carmen, how you could be able to find love and creation in something without putting everything into it.

Carmen was always watching you, he found peace in it, the moves and motions of you all over the apartment, the scent of your body wash, you toothbrush next to his, you were a movie right in front of him and he would watch you for eternity if he could.

You turn into the back of the Bear, parking between the faded white lines before turning off the engine and staying in the car for a moment. You hated the cold, and your breath had already begun to blow out misty clouds every time you exhaled. Collecting the warm container of soup and a sandwich you quickly jog towards the restaurant, taking the back door when you notice Manny leaving.

“Hey Hun, how ya doing” Manny nods towards you with a warm smile

“Hey Manny, just coming to get Carmen to eat something other than tums”

“Chef is definitely wound tight, mix up on a new delivery of some kind of fruit? Forgot the name.. It's spiky and smells like when we moved out those ovens and found those burnt onions and stock stuck to the floor” Manny replies with a wince as you both recall the devastating smell that hadn’t left your nostrils in weeks during the renovation.

“Uh, Durian?” You reply and Manny clicks his fingers at your reply.

“That's it. That mind of yours is really something. He hasn’t taken a break since the morning, but you always have a way with him” Manny raises his eyebrows and you shake your head with a laugh

You only remember that particular fruit because Carmen had been obsessing over a new menu item that included it as its main component. He had spent sleepless nights perfecting it, despite it being utterly magnificent the first try. You couldn’t shake him from his work, it could consume him for months if he let it, and you feared he was at the precipice of falling into that hole once again.

You walk through the back hallway leading up to the main kitchen, passing by the tired hunches of the shoulder dressed down in crisp white shirts and aprons. The Bear had a late start today, Sydney suggested opening a little later for a full dinner menu rather than lunch as well and the turn out had shocked you all.

It also meant Carmen came home even later than he already did during those nights, you’ve had to damn near carry him to the bath to get him to not drop dead the second he came home. You didn’t mind however, you couldn't deny the faint thrum of your heart content as you washed Carmen’s hair whilst he lay against you half asleep.

You spot Sydney at her station, and you quickly walk over to see her prepping for dinner, the swoop of her knife cutting into red meat in a kind of curve you knew she had perfected over the years.

“Hey Syd, early start?” You say, once your side by side with her

“Oh don’t remind me, can you believe the L got backed up from all the ice last night? Added a whole 45 minutes to my commute” Sydney groans out, shaking her head as she turns to you. Grateful to have a reprieve from her repetitive cutting.

“Goddam Chicago, if it makes you feel any better, I’ve got a bottle of wine with your name on it in my fridge and it is dying to be opened and shared by two very, very tired women” You reply, smiling at the way Sydney raises her eyebrows gleefully at the thought.

“I am holding you to that, as soon as we get through today. God, this new dish Carmen has thought up is kicking my ass” Sydney replies, and your ears chirp at the mention of the man you’ve been looking for.

“Speaking of Carmen, have you seen him?”

“Yeah, I think he’s still in the office, been on call with one of our vendors cause of the mix up with the--”

“Durian, yeah. Thanks Syd” You reply, giving her a nod before making your way to the hallway leading into the office.

You hear Carmen before you see him, the sound of his loud voice seeping through the cracks of the door. His voice rises as he gets more and more agitated, and you don’t miss the sound of a cup being thrown against the wall as the phone call continues, not waiting a moment before firing back muffled words you can hardly make out except

“Unprofessional” “waste of my time” “fuckin’ dick”

So yeah, you thought it was definitely a good time to walk in and get your extremely agitated boyfriend to eat your soup.

Just as you walk through the door, you see Carmen slam the phone back onto the receiver, shouting out obscenities at the object as he throws his chair back onto the floor. Years working together has made you unfazed by his outbursts of anger, though you have been sly in trying to get him to go to therapy so that he doesn't get an aneurysm over the phone with the Wifi company or something hilariously trivial.

“Hey Carm” You say, whilst closing the door, and Carmen look up at you in surprise, his features sobering, as his eyes relax into a comforting gaze.

“Ah shit, sorry bout that, just some stubborn, pig headed vendors who don’t want to fix a problem they fucking caused” Carmen replies, his chest rising rapidly as he takes sharp inhales of oxygen.

He turns to face you and you take in the sunken look of his cheeks, the skin a little discoloured like he was sick, and his hair dishevelled and falling flat against his face like he's run his hand through it too many times.

“Jesus Carmen, have you gotten any sleep?” You reply, instantly as you make your way over to him, pressing a hand on his shoulder.

Carmen shudders against your touch, shaking his head as he leans back and away from you. You stumble as you look down at your hand now inches away from his shoulder in confusion. Carmen never turned you away from him, in fact during those unforgiving times of anxiety and anguish, when he felt the entire sky falling, you would be his anchor to bring him back.

The fact that he had visibly shuddered when you touched him made your heart ache, and it hurts even more when Carmen notices, the guilt spilling into him.

“Just been so busy” Carmen replies, his eyes darting everywhere but you, as you nod with a tight smile, backing away from him.

You reach for the soup you've left on the edge, placing it on the desk and you nod to it

“Have you eaten today?” You reply and Carmen stops watching you, blinking slowly as he tries to remember the last time he's actually consumed something, before coming up empty and shaking his head up at you with a groan.

“I thought so, you need to eat Carmen, how can you expect to function let alone run a restaurant if you aren't at your optimal level” You reason, leaning against the table, with your arms crossed against your chest.

“It’s fine, I was just gonna grab something small” Carmen waves you off

“Actually, I brought you food right now so I think it would be a perfect time-

“Is that why you came? To micromanage me like some toddler” Carmen suddenly replies, his eyes narrowing as he looks at you through half lidded eyes.

“I- what? I didn’t-”

“I can run my restaurant blindfolded with my arms tied behind my back, alright? I don’t need you to come and patronise me like you know every goddamn thing” Carmen spits out, and you can't help the way your blood runs hot, the rhythmic beat of anger pounding through you like a hammer.

How fucking dare he

“Excuse me? I came here for you Carmen, not some self-righteous moment to say I'm better than you. God damnit, is that what you think? I came here to make sure you didn't faint and fall into a pot of boiling hot water” You spit out, Carmen looks up at you, hes blues swimming in ire as he lets a humour-less laugh rumble through his chest.

You felt all the things you had kept a lid on begin to tumble out of your mouth, and soon you’re anger morphed into a building current. The flashes of everything that had gone wrong, the lack of communication, the coming home late, it all has begun to accumulate rapidly and you let it consume you in its entirety.

“Sure, of course,” Carmen sings. “I’m not your fucking child alright? You are my goddamn mother so stop treating me like you need to make sure I eat 3 times a day and have my nightly bath. I’m a grown man-”

“Then ACT LIKE IT!”

Carmen looks up at you in surprise, his brows knitting as his head swivels back from your outburst. You had never screamed at him, in fact, Carmen can’t remember a time where you had screamed at anyone like you did now as you stare him down deviantly. Eyes burning with a fiery anger that begged to be stoked. Carmen knows this, your hands shake in tight fists like your seconds away from swiping him, and he resorts back to his usual self destruction of turning back and running away.

“Yeah, yeah that's right, walk away, walk away like you always do. Carmen, soon enough you're going to have to face it you know? You’re gonna have to face your fucking issues before it destroys us both” You scream, and Carmen pauses, causing you to stumble. Carmen turns around to face you in the middle of the hallway, the rush of anger present on his cheeks, causing the veins to bulge out on his neck and he looms over you

“Issues, I have fucking issues? You’re screaming at me because of goddamn soup”

“It’s more than fucking SOUP!” The screech of your voice bounced across the thin walls of the restaurant hallway, your throat begins to burn as you begin to swallow down the emotion bubbling within you. You want to reach into him and rattle his neck, force him to see the destructive path he was taking, force him to do anything but turn away and shut you out.

A quiet trepidation falls over the entire kitchen as they watch you both fight, it was unheard of, an anomaly that seemed wrong, like someone had gotten a couple from the street and put your faces on it.

Watching you both fight was like watching a performance. The way you both leaned into each other menacingly, neither of you backing down, there was an indefinite energy that bubbled between you both, you were seconds away from shocking each other or making out.

“What is it then huh? Why are you acting like this? You expect me to read your goddamn mind? You’ve changed alright? Everyone can see it, I can't even recognise the person in front of me half the time” Carmen sneers, his neck turning a crimson red as he clenches his jaw painfully. He’s holding himself back, his body shakes with it, the tight clenches of his fist stopping him from putting a hole in the wall or smashing a chair.

“I’ve changed? Me?” You cut yourself off with a chuckle, Carmen shifted his gaze as his eyebrows knot in confusion, and when you catch a glimpse of his face you can’t help the booming sound from crawling up your throat, keening over as the sick sound of laughter rocks through your body.

The rest of the team now watches on in horror, you were laughing, why are you fucking laughing?

You try and gulp down the uncontrollable fit of laughter, you can practically feel your body shift down into the jagged memories from all those years ago. From a place and time you had shuffled into a no named cabinet and thrown into the deepest depths of the ocean.

You didn’t want to remember, you begged your mind to forget, but as your laughter slips into sharp inhales, you already can taste the wetness streaming down your cheeks, and slithering down the slope of your neck.

Your sob’s rack through you, winding you until you hunched over, reaching out onto the wall to steady yourself and trying to find footing as the ground caves beneath you.

Carmen recognises it in an instant, taking a tentative step forward, raising his arms before dropping them in a second, like he was approaching a volatile animal.

“Fuck, I’m sorry I-” Carmen starts, but you’ve already raised yourself from your hunched position, the tears dripping into the linoleum floors and splashing onto your combat boots.

You didn’t want to face that time in your life again, but Carmen has practically forced you too, and there's no way in hell you weren’t going to drag him down into that bordered off well. Fuck being the bigger person.

“No no, you spoke, this is my fucking turn now” You grunt out, the rippling grief leaving your body in a flash as you sneer over him.

Carmen gulps back a retort, his mind re-circuiting, trying to figure out your polar behaviour. Carmen knew better to interrupt you now, in fact the restaurants was a pin drop quiet, safe for the whooshing sound of the central air corn, and the sound of Carmen's stuttering inhales.

“YOU listen to me” You spit, pointing a finger, pressing it into Carmen's chest so hard he stumbles back

“You fucking left me Carmen. You! You- just, you dropped everything we had, everything we ever built in New York and you disappeared. And it was Mickey, and you needed to be there and I got that, I get that, but you- you just left me there.” You grunt, biting back the swell of emotion that erupted when you thought about those years ago.

“You became a ghost, and god,- you could have told me, after everything I thought we had- you could've told me! But then you didn't. And I was left to pick up the pieces, wondering if you had ever loved me, wondering if I should have given half of myself to you whilst you couldn't even call me back” You stutter out, shocking back the onslaught of tears as you swallow around the lump in your throat.

Carmen’s face pales as he registers those years ago in New York, the immediate look of guilt and anguish twisting his features as he leans onto the wall for support.

Even after all these years, all this time, you still felt it like it was yesterday. All your work had become undone, the thin veil of healing had been stripped back to bare bones in an instant, and you hate it, you hate it so much. Why couldn’t you have packed up and moved on? Why did you have to fold back into yourself at those memories? You don't know what you're seeking now, vengeance, restitution, it all becomes blurred in the heat of it, and god have you wanted to strip your skin and wake up restored since that night.

“You ruined me for a year Carmen. I was a shell of myself because of you. And then you called me that afternoon and you know what? I wanted to throw my phone into the fucking Hudson. I wanted to rip my hair out and scream and hurt you like you hurt me because the truth was I already forgiven you before you even apologised. And you never did. And I still wanted to come back to Chicago for you.”

“Honey-” Carmen's strained voice shudders at your words, and you can make out the red of his eyelids, the tears collecting at his lids.

You hold up a hand, stopping Carmen from speaking, tears begin to form at your waterline, threatening to break, your vision blurs, the features of Carmen’s tormented face becoming wobbly and undefined.

You were so sick of crying, you were so sick of it.

“And I won’t ever make you keep paying for a mistake for the rest of your life, I let go of that anger because you needed my help and in some way, I fell in love with you all over again, I was able to make peace with it.”

“But you don't think I know you Carmen? When you overwork yourself to death you can barely eat? When you get bad again at calling me? When you were good, you were the best person in my entire world, but when you're like this?” You shake your head into the empty space between you, hands waving in front of you.

Carmen looks torn apart, his hair falling flat against his forehead, his hands in tight fists as he shakes his head against your words. Begging, on his knees, begging for you to stop, to stop saying those things that came from your mouth that were not true. His body shakes with it, the gushing feeling of guilt, it washes over him in waves.

His mind is going a mile a minute, every thought of work, of that mismatched order he had to deal with, of the vendor who refused to deliver, it all went out the window the second your face contorted in that heart aching way. He can't lose you, every fiber in his being yearned for you, he lived for you. And here he was losing you, like a brush of paint across a canvas.

You were slipping from him every second you stood there with tears dripping down your cheeks like a stream.

“You’re the one that's changed. You're the one who's always changing. Don’t throw it back at me just because you can’t see it” You mutter with a shake of your head. Your voice carries a finality with it, and you jerk from Carmen when he takes a step towards you. You can't breathe in here, and you pass by the concerned gases of the rest of the Bear, shaking your head and moving away from Sydney, before dipping back into the busy streets of Chicago. You bite your tongue the entire way until the taste of copper fills your mouth.

Folding yourself into the huddled waves of mundanity, leaving your soup and the last bit of your aching heart on the bench of Carmen's office.

936 notes · View notes

holylulusworld · 3 days

Text

Come to heaven

Title: Come to heaven

Written for @buckybarnesbingo (Round 6)

Card: B004

Square Filled: K5: handle with care

Ship/Main Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Ex!Reader

Rating: Mature

Major Tags/Triggers/Warnings: angst, jealousy, ex! sugar babe trope, drunkness, fluff, hopeful ending

Summary: Making amends is hard.

A/N: Lyrics in Italics taken from Bruno Mars' "Locked Out of Heaven"

Word Count: 1,7k+

BBB BuckyBarnesBingo 2024 masterlist

Catch up here: Go to hell

Written in reader’s PoV

Bucky tries to slip his hand into your panties, but you wrap your hand around his wrist to stop him. This is how he always made you compliant and stopped any argument.

“No! Not this time.”

“No?” He sounds surprised. Of course, he’s surprised. You always gave in and let him seduce you. Pleasure and having his attention, even for a fleeting time, was better than thinking about the future, or your non-existent relationship.

“No!” You stiffen in his arms. “Let go of me. I won’t let you do this to me all over again. It’s always the same. You stop me from speaking my mind with your lips, hands, or cock. I’m done being a sexual object, a toy you can play with to you.”

“Doll, I…” Bucky reluctantly releases you from his embrace. He steps away to watch you turn around. “What do you mean?”

“This,” you press your hand to your heart, “was yours. I admitted my feelings and waited for you to at least tell me that I mean a little more to you than a set of holes you can fill. But…” you sniffle but put a brave face on, “you couldn’t even give me that.”

“So, you want to go back to that old man and his limp dick?” He scoffs in an attempt to hide the hurt.

“Even if I’m not in love with him, I know exactly what he wants from me. He won’t make promises of keeping me safe and happy only to turn his back on me the moment I tell him that I love him. With him, I know what I’ll get.”

You try to sidestep Bucky, but he blocks your path. “That’s it? You’ll leave me for that man without giving me the chance to make things up to you.”

“James,” you gently cup his face and look him in the eyes. “You can’t make things up to me with gifts or sex this time. I asked you if you can imagine having a relationship with me. You gave me your answer. It’s my turn to tell you that what you have to offer is not enough.”

“Not enough?” He’s confused. “But I…”

“Money and shiny things cannot replace what you are unwilling to give,” you give him a sad smile. “As much as I enjoyed our time together, it’s over. We both knew it’d end like this. This kind of arrangement is meant to end sooner or later. There is nothing we can do about it.”

You press your lips to his scruffy chin, ending what began as a passionate one-night stand with a soft kiss. “Goodbye, James. I hope, one day, you’ll find something worth being more than…” Your voice cracks and you drop your hands from his face.

“Y/N,” he tries to grab your hand but you step away the moment his fingertips brush your skin. If you give in to him now, you’re doomed to repeat history. “Wait, I can try to be better.”

You give him a weak smile. “No, you won’t, James. You never had to try, and that’s the problem. Your good looks and reputation made everything so much easier for you than for other men.”

He allows you to leave, watching you go to join your companion for the rest of the night. Bucky will sulk in a corner, drinking too much while wishing you’d stayed by his side instead of laughing about the things the old man by your side says.

Bucky is close to losing his patience. He’d hoped scaring the man you chose over him would be enough. Much to his chagrin, your companion from last night is rather amused about Bucky’s presence.

Erik Lehnsherr lived long enough to fear nothing. Not that he ever feared anything else than his own mortality. But at his age, even that fear faded a long time ago.

“I don’t understand why you are here, Mr. Barnes,” Erik leans back in his chair, an amused smirk on his lips. “Do we have business to do? I don’t think so. I’m old, not forgetful.”

“If you release Y/N out of her contract with you, I’ll pay you any sum,” Bucky tries to get you out of your sugar girl arrangement with the old creep.

“A contract?” He quirks a brow. “The lovely lady accompanying me last night came with me to make sure I’m not alone. We don’t have an arrangement. She’s just a lovely young woman spending time with me to help me with my paperwork.”

“Paperwork?” Bucky eyes his concurrent warily. He’s a master at reading people and finding lies behind a friendly smile. “She’s your employee?”

“A freelancer, the young people call it these days,” Erik holds back a chuckle.

When you offered to join him at the party, you told him everything that happened with James Buchanan Barnes. The man breaking your heart. Erik promised he’d do anything to make the fool let you go see that he made a grave mistake.

“I’m old, not someone creeping on young women,” he adds after a long pause. “I had my fair share of lovely ladies and gentlemen when I was younger.” Erik eyes Bucky up and down. “You’d be on top of my list if only I was thirty years younger.”

Bucky backpaddles. He eyes Erik warily before clearing his throat.

”What exactly is Y/N doing for you?”

“I already told you that she does my paperwork. I believed I was the old man here. Maybe you should get your memory checked, young man,” Erik chuckles. “If you’d excuse me now. I’m waiting for a massage therapist. A pretty boy getting this old man going…”

‘Old creep’, Bucky thinks to himself before leaving without saying goodbye. “At least he doesn’t creep on Y/N. That’s a pro.”

Bucky drove to his best friend to release some steam. He told Steve everything about you and the stunt you pulled to make him jealous.

“She tricked you,” Steve can’t help but laugh. “Man, you’ve got yourself a smart little cookie. I bet she tried to wrap you around her finger.”

“I fell for her lie so easily,” Bucky huffs. “I believed she’s riding that creep’s dick. Now I know, she put on a show to get my attention, not to rub it under my nose. My sweet doll is missing me.”

“Well, if she’s your sweet doll try to treat her better. She deserves someone to take good care of her.”

“Steve—”

“No, Buck. You need to handle her with care,” Steve won’t let his friend get away with a false excuse. “Y/N got hurt by you once, Buck. I don’t want you to make the same mistake twice.”

You walk a little faster to outrun Bucky. He’s following you around town, a bouquet of roses in his hands.

He tried to convince you to move in with him, promising the world to you.

“Go away,” you huff. “I don’t know what kind of game you are playing, but I won’t participate. Just leave me alone.”

“You know that you can’t run away from me in those shoes, right?” Bucky smirks when you stop in your tracks to look at the colorful thongs you’re wearing. “I never understood how you can walk in these…”

“I like to feel the sunshine and air on my feet,” you point out. “Not everyone wants to run around in polished leather shoes all the time.”

“Ouch,” he snickers. “Come on, baby doll. Let’s have lunch together. Give me the chance to show you that I can change.”

“Bucky,” you sigh. “You don’t get that I can’t go back to what we had.”

“Y/N,” he drops the roses to cup your face. “I don’t want to go back to what we had. Baby doll, let your Bucky treat you like a queen.”

“I don’t want you to treat me like a queen,” you wrap your hands around his wrists to pull his hands off of your face, “only like someone you respect and love. I want you to treat me like your girlfriend. But you can’t give me that.”

“Baby…”

You look on the ground. “Please pick the roses up and give them to someone who wants to become your next sugar babe. I’m out of this for good.”

Again, you walk away. You’re holding your head high and ignore the ache in your heart as you leave Bucky behind.

'Cause you make me feel like I've been locked out of heaven For too long, for too long Yeah, you make me feel like I've been locked out of heaven For too long, for too long, oh-oh, oh-oh-oh Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (ooh) Oh, yeah, yeah Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (ooh) You bring me to my knees, you make me testify (ooh) You can make a sinner change his ways (ooh) Open up your gates 'cause I can't wait to see the light (ooh) And right there is where I wanna stay (ooh)

“What the fuck!” You yell out of your window. Bucky parked his car in front of your apartment complex. He’s singing along to a song, begging you to take him back. “It’s 2 am Bucky! What is wrong with you?”

He turns the volume down and kills the engine before waving at you.

“Baby doll,” he slurs. “I came here to bring you home. ‘m missing you, doll…Please come home.”

“SHUT UP!” one of your neighbors yells out of their window. “Do you know how late it is?”

“It’s 2 am,” Bucky yells back. “Stop yelling so loud. You’ll wake the neighbors!”

“BUCKY! Stop being so loud!”

“Baby…can I come up and cuddle you?” He grins dopily when you slam the window shut. “She loves me!”

“SHUT UP!” Your neighbor yells.

“Shut up!” Bucky yells back. “OH…there you are…” He stumbles toward the door when you get out. “BABY DOLL!”

“Bucky,” you hiss and grab his hand. “Stop yelling and come with me.”

“You look pretty in your pajamas,” he purrs your name and wraps himself around you. Bucky nuzzles his face in your neck and sighs. “Without you, I’m in hell, doll. Forget about that old creep and go for Bucky.” He mutters against you.

You sigh deeply. “Fine, come with me to heaven. You can bunker on my couch. In the morning, we will talk about impulse control and not yelling in the middle of the night.”

Tags in reblog.

#bbb2024 #buckybarnesbingo2024 #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #mobster!bucky #mafia au

176 notes · View notes

loonmartell · 1 month

Text

𓄹𓄼 Rainy day brew 𓄼𓄹

(No outbreak Joel Miller x f!reader)

Summary : Can a stormy night and well brewed coffee bring two hearts together?

Rating : Explicit/+18 (Smut! MDNI)

Word count : 6,336 (I got carried away sorry..)

Warnings/tags : No outbreak AU, pining, Alternating POV, pet names, one “yes, ma’am” because I couldn’t help it, a sprinkle of plot, SMUT (unprotected PiV sex, fingering, dirty talk, grinding, kissing, teasing, One (1) playful ass slap, creampie), storms (rain, thunder & lightning), A LOT of yapping about pour over coffee, no use of y/n.

A/N : Hello again! Today I come with Joel smut 🙏🏻. I wrote this for @undercoverpena ‘s April Showers Challenge! I absolutely fell in love with the idea when i saw it, cuz if there’s one thing about me it’s that I LOVE rain! So ofc i had to try and do it <3 A big huge colossal thank you to @joels-darlin for being my lovely beta <33 and @coispunk for not blocking me after i bounced off the walls contemplating if i should upload this or not ✨✨✨

Masterlist

——

“You need a ride home darlin’?”

You turn to the source of the voice and find Joel talking to you through the rolled down window of his pick up truck.

“Oh! no it’s okay I can wait for the rain to—”

“Non ‘a that now, This storm could last ‘til tomorrow night” he leans over the passenger seat to open the door for you.

It’s not that you wouldn’t appreciate the ride —you most certainly would— but you didn’t want to be an inconvenience and you especially didn’t want Joel to think that you were aburden.

You didn’t know each other very well. Your best friend Maria is dating his brother Tommy. And you’ve been dragged to a couple of dinners and drinks over the last couple of months with the three of them. But the conversations were always guided by the other two, so you and Joel never really spoke much. In fact, you had the fleeting idea that maybe Joel didn’t like you. He’s always so tense around you, you know this because you literally saw his jaw tensing after you showed up. And you caught him glaring at you a couple of times. You thought you may have unknowingly offended him somehow, but Maria assured you afterwards that you didn't say or do anything wrong and that he was probably just tired. So you let it go, but the idea is still floating around in your head.

Tonight was one of those nights where you went out for drinks, Maria and Tommy headed home early and left you with Joel half an hour ago. And not long after that Joel excused himself saying he had an early morning and said his goodbyes.

You waited a couple of minutes before you got out as well. Only, much to your delight; a storm was brewing and it was raining by the time you were ready to walk home. What an incredible choice you made to walk instead of drive on this day.

When Joel was one street away from where he left you at the bar. He thought back on when you mentioned leaving your car at home because you thought it was nice weather for a stroll. He tried really hard to get the idea of you walking home in this storm out of his head. You can manage. Get an uber, call a cab, whatever. But then again, Joel's southern manners would never allow him. That, and this big, colossal crush he has on you.

The first time he ever saw you was when he picked up Tommy from Maria’s (and your) apartment one morning. Tommy left him waiting long enough for you to get out and go to work (he assumed). You really had him in a chokehold. You were really, breathtakingly beautiful. You had your hair in a high ponytail with a few strands deliberately out, framing the gorgeous features of your face. You had both your hands full. One had a large handbag hanging from your wrist, hand holding a travel mug and a coat hanging on your forearm. The other hand was holding a bright red watering can. You started watering the flower beds on the windowsills and the big pot of gardenias right by the door. Your next door neighbour, an old lady, got out at that time. And Joel saw your cheery smile for the first time, and what he assumed were good mornings were exchanged. What a sweet, little thing.

He had the sudden urge to roll down the car window so he could hear what voice accompanied that divine face. But he thought better of it. And sooner than he would prefer, you were in your car and driving off.

When Tommy finally showed up, apparently physically unable to take his lips off of Maria’s, judging by how they never separated even after he was out the door. Joel rolled his eyes and turned his face away from that scene and towards the street on his other side.

Finally Tommy got into the car with a disgusting, lovesick smile on his face. But he smelled like shampoo and his hair was relatively wet. He showered and for that Joel is eternally grateful.

“You’re late” Joel deadpanned.

“And good morning to you too, brother” The younger man scoffed before placing two travel mugs in the cup holders.

Joel scrunched his eyebrows “what's that?”

“Coffee, Maria’s roommate brews her own with one ‘a those pour over kits and she insisted that we try hers.”

Joel’s throat went dry, thinking about that pretty girl he was unashamedly staring at, going out of her way to make enough coffee for her friend’s boyfriend’s brother. A sweet, delightful little thing.

“That’s real nice of her” if his voice cracked a little, Tommy didn’t notice.

“Yeah it is. So I’ve been thinkin’,” Tommy changed the subject faster than Joel would like. “You think you can drop me off at my place at say.. Two?”

“Two? We finish at the site at least after Three, what d’ya mean you wanna get out at Two?” Joel shifted his eyes from the road long enough to glare at his brother.

“Yeah I know but I was thinkin’” Joel is really starting to hate it when Tommy thinks “today’s me and Maria’s six months anniversary, and I kinda wanna do somethin’ special for her”

Six months anniversary Joel mentally scoffed, the fuck is a six months anniversary? And why isn’t he talking more about that damn sweet roommate!

“Yeah no can do, Romeo. We’re already behind ‘cause ’a last week, need I remind you that you ditched me laying down parquet on my own? had to do the three bedrooms that day all by myself”

“I told you we should’a done planks instead of parquet but you never listen to me, do you?” Tommy’s counter argument was weaker than he was hoping for. It was the owner’s choice, not Joel’s. And they both knew it. “Plus I had a damn plausible excuse that day”

“Not sure if a discount on an already cheap restaurant counts as plausible”

“It wasn’t just a ’discount’, Joel. It was a surf ‘n turf for half the price!”

“Yeah well I was surfin’ and turfin’ alone on the floors of the Johnsons. You’re not ditchin’ me again.”

Tommy slumped down on his chair like a toddler would.

On a red light Joel finally picked up his mug and took his first sip. A sweet, delightful, damn-good coffee making little thing.

——

Before he even knew it, Joel was opening the passenger side door for you, not taking no for an answer. Thankfully, you didn’t put up that much of a fight and climbed your pretty ass in his truck.

The ride was pretty short and silent. The sound of thunder and loud smacks of raindrops against the car not leaving much room for chatting anyway.

When he parked as close as he could to your door, he reached behind your seat to the pocket of it. And brought out a small, folded umbrella. He knew it was a mere seconds walk from the car to your door, but he had the umbrella with him already, so why risk giving you a cold? Your nose, red and sniffling. He had to actively suppress the upturn of the corners of his lips.

“Here” he handed you the umbrella and before you could get a chance to speak, he followed with “not taking no for an answer, darlin’. Gettin’ soaked in this wind could get you sick”

“Um.. actually the storm’s getting stronger, and I was gonna suggest you come inside? I don’t know if I’m comfortable with you driving in this weather”

A sweet, delightful, damn-good coffee making, thoughtful little thing.

He looked out the windows, trying to figure out his next move.

“Think I’ll take you up on that offer. It does look pretty bad, and the slippery streets are harder to navigate when I can’t see further than my nose.” He brought his eyes to you. Hoping he wouldn’t seem too eager to agree.

You graced him with a smile and said “well alright then, guess now I don’t have to feel bad for hogging you umbrella”

“ ‘s not hogging if I’m voluntarily givin’ it to you” he smirked as he turned off the car. He got out of it with a quick “stay where you are” and opened the umbrella as he rounded to your side of the truck.

You walked under the umbrella he was holding. You’ve never been this close to him before and it gave you goosebumps that had nothing to do with the weather. You fiddled with your keys until you got the door open. There was no car outside or shoes in the foyer. They must’ve gone to Tommy's then. As much as you always wanted some quiet, alone time in your apartment. This was not one of those times. You were hoping Maria and Tommy were here to take the edge off of being alone with Joel, but you can’t really back out now and you’re already here. So, time to take a page out of the southern manners book.

”What would you like to drink?” you offered after he settled on the couch. His large frame dwarfing your whole living room, making everything look almost miniature. The thought had you blushing and you don’t really know why, but you don’t even want to find out.

“Coffee would be nice, if it's not a bother” his voice travelled through his place on the couch to the kitchen.

You can’t help the excited grin you have on “not at all! I just got a new Holklotz set that I’ve been dying to try out” when you get a new brewing set, you need time to experiment with different coffee grinds, ratios and timing between blooming and brewing to master the perfect cup. Time is a luxury not available to you on late mornings when you trade it for extra minutes of sleep.

Footsteps approaching the kitchen make you raise your head to see Joel coming into view, his eyebrows scrunched and confused “you got a what?”

You smile and hold the wooden base of the dripstand that you took out of the cabinet “this is my newest set, it arrived a week ago but between work and being too tired after, I haven’t had the time to bring it out and try it yet. Until now” you look at him with a too excited smile that you don’t try to hide.

“Well alrighty then, you happen to have here the perfect white mouse, test away” he settles at the barstool by the kitchen island that you’re standing by. You weigh the coffee beans and put them in the manual grinder, set to the size you need. Not too coarse but not too fine.

“Okay white mouse, care to help?” You hold up the grinder.

“Tell me what you need, boss” he concludes. So, you hand him the grinder to work on it as you heat the water and take the rest of the set out and put it together.

He continues working on grinding the coffee and wonders if you have immensely great upper body strength, since you do this every morning. His coffee is already ground and comes in a container. He doesn’t see the necessity for an upper body workout every time you need a little caffeine. But truth be told, he has been craving that coffee you made him that one time. Damned if it wasn’t the best cup he’s ever had.

The silence is killing him, and he has to avail from the storm that brought him to your home. “So, when you’re not at work or training for an arm wrestlin’ tournament,” he gestures to the grinder “what do you like to do?”

“Obviously, I take part in the tournaments I train for” you say with a serious expression that has his eyes widened in surprise. “I’m kidding, Joel. Although I think I have a good solid shot at winning.” You stick your nose up in the prettiest little smug face and Joel wants to kiss it away so bad. Focus.

He drags himself back to the present “can’t argue with that. But, if you’re basing that over this,” he again gestures to the grinder in his hands “then it’s not enough bargain for winning”.

You scoff and raise your hands up, wiggling your fingers “you have no idea what these hands can do” Joel can see you regretted blurting out the words without thinking, judging by the rising blush on your face and the way you don’t meet his eyes anymore. He can’t say he’s any better, his mind is already conjuring unholy images, reeling his brain and sending a rush of tingling heat down south.

What can they do? He imagines your small hands trying to wrap around his throbbing cock. Or you writhing on your bed stuffing yourself with three of your too small fingers, desperately trying to cum. He bets he can do it faster and better for you. If you give him the chance.

He knows he shouldn’t be picturing you like this. It’s crazy to even think about you like this. You haven’t even told him if you’re interested. Hell he never even said anything to show you he’s interested.

Clearing your throat, this time you’re the one bringing him back to the present, you say “anyway, I think I got off topic there” you let out a nervous chuckle. “To answer your question. My time is pretty much divided between work, coffee and my plants. I’m kinda boring, don’t really got much going on”

Joel doesn’t hear the presence of a partner in your life, and he selfishly likes it.

“Don’t sound boring to me, ‘s pretty comfortable” you smile at his comment and he gives you the coffee grounds, ready to be used.

You start your brewing process, talking him through every step you’re doing. Wetting the filter, dumping the coffee grounds in and meticulously pouring the water on the dripper. The blooming, the timing. He can’t promise he heard everything. Because you bite your bottom lip and your face contorts in the cutest focused face and he can’t help but stare. You really love doing this and he wants to eat you up.

“My chemex is my go-to on late mornings,” You suddenly pipe up as you’re waiting for the water to drip through the coffee grounds. “Even though it takes longer than a V60, It’s just faster to clean up and I can dual-task while it’s brewing. So I don’t mind.”

He lets out a hum from the back of his throat, considering what you said. “What about the taste? Whaddya like more?” He surprises himself that he actually cares and not just trying to be polite.

“I like them both the same, the flavour with the V60 is usually richer ‘cause the filters are thinner, but I still like the soft, smooth taste when using the chemex”.

In the back of his mind, Joel thinks he’s ready to fall in love with you. He loves coffee, sure. But to him it’s just something he needs in the morning and sometimes later in the day. Never really thought much of it, he has a coffee machine that gets work done for him. And yet, here you are, showing him a different, almost artistic aspect of it.

“Although..” Okay so you’re not done yet. “If we’re talking taste-wise in the brewing methods, I’ll have to go with the syphon”

“Syphon?”

“Yes syphon, I tried it once in a lovely family owned coffee shop across town. I’m telling you, if I lived near there? I would be a regular faster than you can say syphon”

“Well syphon is a long word, two full syllables” he faux ponders, making you giggle.

“Okay smartass, coffee’s ready.” You pull out two mugs from the cabinet. And fill them up. And slide his across the kitchen island, a brown owl adorning the ceramic surface.

You both sip at the same time then let out a ridiculously simultaneous soft sighs. You look at Joel with wide, pleading eyes, gauging his reaction. And of course, being the honest man that he is, he would never lie.

“Damn, that is good” he clicks his tongue and goes for another sip.

You smile brightly “I like it too. Although it’s a little more bitter for my liking, think I'll adjust the grind next time.”

You want to kick yourself so bad. You’re only now realising that you got too comfortable and you let yourself go on and on about something he probably doesn’t even care about. You had to shut the caffeine talk down.

“So, Joel, how's Sarah?” You gestured for him to follow you to the living room.

He settled on one side of the loveseat while you occupied the other, folding your legs under yourself. “She’s alright, her mom wanted her to see her grandma so she’s with her this week.” Maria told you all about their co-parenting system and how they’re succeeding in making it work so far. Little 10 years old Sarah spends equal amounts of time with both her parents and she feels loved by both. Not everything is a bed of roses, of course. But they deal with obstacles when they appear in their time.

“That’s nice, and how was her game last week? I remember you said she was nervous about it?” He stared at you for a few seconds too long that it makes you wonder if you crossed a line or said something wrong. But he blinked a couple of times and continued.

“Doin’ great actually, my little goal getter” he pondered softly before announcing “she scored the winning goal in last week’s game!” He sat up a little, you think it’s unconsciously as a result of his excitement.

“Oh my god! That’s so amazing!” You matched his energy “you must be so proud!”.

His smile widened if it was possible “I am, she puts her mind into something and never rests ‘til she gets it,” he reclined against the couch again “dunno where she got it from, but I sure as hell am not gonna complain”

“You’re selling yourself short, Joel.” You offered a warm smile “I’m sure you’ve been a great influence on her, your determination is probably rubbing off on her.”

Joel’s expression softened, a hint of pride flickering in his eyes. “Thanks, sure means a lot coming from you, sweetheart. If I’m bein’ honest, I just wanna see my girl chasin’ her dreams and be happy. ‘s all I want”

“I have no doubt she’ll do so much, and she’ll achieve great things with your guidance and support” you placed your hand on his knees for reassurance.

He felt warmth all over his chest, his heartbeats exceeding those of a hummingbird. His eyes fell down to where your hand was touching and almost burning him, and they stayed there for a while before looking back at your eyes. He has this immense urge to kiss you. The tension has been building all night and his ability to hold himself off is getting harder and harder by the second.

He cleared his throat, trying to steady his racing heart as he met your gaze. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Your faith in her means the world to me."

Your hand lingered on his knee for a moment longer before you withdrew it, a faint blush coloring your cheeks. "She's lucky to have you as her dad, y’know" you said softly, the look in your eyes showing the sincerity of your words.

A moment of silence passed between you, the air thick with unspoken emotions. Joel's gaze flickered to your lips, his own heart still pounding accompanied by longing. He swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words to convey the feelings swirling inside him.

He brought his eyes back up to yours only to see that your gaze had been on his lips, mirroring his desires. Your gazes met, the tension snapped. Lightning flashes through the window right before your eyes and your lips crash in a bruising, soaring kiss that to outsiders would look as if you were trying to devour each other. Everything happened at a rather fast pace. The roaring of the thunder dwindled by frantic breathing and the rush of blood in his ears. His tongue demanded entry, which you gave no problem. He brought his large palm over your hips, pulling you over to straddle him, never breaking the kiss.

He felt your heat through the layers of clothes between you as you settled on his lap, pulling a soft gasp out of you. Using his grasp on your hips, he rocked you back and forth to grind your center on his bulge, eliciting a string of whines you let out in between the clashing of tongues. In a moment of sudden clarity, he broke off your lips but never moved too far away, he rested his forehead to yours, sharing the air. Finally, he spoke, his voice husky with emotion.“Um- I’m sorry, is- is this okay?”

You continued to move against him, seeking more friction. Then you chuckled through your laboured breathing, “yeah, yes I want this. If- if you do too.”

“Oh darlin’ you have no idea” he hurried out before picking up where he left off, trailing his lips down the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your neck where he settled on open mouthed kisses that sent your head falling back, giving him more of you. He got addicted to the taste of your skin on his tongue fast and he craved to taste more.

Dragging his mouth over your shoulders then to your collarbone. He huffed in frustration, your shirt was personally offending him by denying him the access he needed. Seeming to sense his frustration, you pushed him away slightly so you could pull off your shirt over your head in one smooth motion. He wasted no time roaming his hands all over your torso, returning his mouth to your collarbones, kissing his way down to the parts of your breasts spilling out from your bra.

His hands slithered up from your hips to the sides of your waist, then wrapped around your back and moved up to hook his fingers underneath the strap of your bra. He mumbled against your skin, “can I take it off?” You gasped your affirmation. Overwhelming sensations leaving you breathless.

Even though it was a simple bra strap, he struggled to unhook it. Hands too shaky and excited. You breathed a laugh and did it yourself. Once you’re completely bare, nipples perking up as soon as the cold air hits them. He pulled away, looking at you with wide, fascinated eyes. His lips immediately latched around a nipple, flicking his tongue slowly, almost as if he’s savouring the feeling. He pulled away and murmured “beautiful”. Just to latch onto the other one with the same treatment, “absolutely beautiful” he murmured again into the plushness of your tits.

You felt a shiver at the undivided attention from the gorgeous man that seems to never get enough of you. Of course you always thought he was handsome, that was non negotiable. The man was gorgeous from day one. And tonight, you felt a connection that you never felt before. And as soon as the ties were made, the tension rose suddenly, as if it had always been there but you were too much in your head to notice it, contemplating whether he likes you or not. But now, you do notice it. Very much so. And it’s becoming unbearable. You want him so bad. You want him to drown all your senses. You want him inside, outside, under and over you.

Joel, Joel, Joel.

You held his head with both your hands to pull him away from your chest before saying “need to see you too, Joel” you pleaded as you fumbled with the hem of his shirt trying to lift it. His eyes darkened at your desperation. As quick as the lightning that occasionally lights up the room around you, he flipped you so your back is against the couch and took off his shirt and jeans and hovered above you.

You took a steadying breath and your eyes drank in the sight in front of you, bringing your hands on each of his wrists. You mapped the outlines of his thick arms, moving towards his shoulders. Then brought them back to his broad chest, bare except for the hair that formed a thick layer in the center. You felt the muscles ripple under your fingertips. Built from the physical labour that a contractor would endure. You lowered your touch a little to feel his soft stomach. Squishy tummy, a sign of a man that was actually living and feeding himself well. Not shying away from a meal or obsessing over fitting society’s mould of perfection. You wanted to kiss it and nibble on it so bad, but you weren’t sure if he’d be okay with it, that was probably more of a second time type of thing. Mentally shaking your head away from the idea that you’re already thinking of next time when nothing even happened yet. Lastly, you ran your fingers on the smattering of coarse, dark hair that dipped further down into his tented boxers.

Mostly empty coffee cups long abandoned on the table. He knelt on his knees between your spread legs, and yanked your pants and panties in one quick motion. Towering over your naked form. His eyes danced around every inch of your body. He brought his thumbs to each side of your heat. Tracing the outside of your folds. He murmured so low, almost as if he’s talking to himself “Too goddamn pretty for your own good, baby”. He was basking in the sight of your desperate writhing as your need for any kind of friction became unfathomable.

“Please,” you whined in frustration, A smirk pulled on his lips at your little pouty face.

“Please what, darlin’?”

“Touch me” your keen hands reach for his wrists to coax them where you want him. But he was determined to keep his hands at their place.

Yeah, your hands are too small, too soft for such a sweet, delightful, damn-good coffee making, thoughtful, eager little thing.

“I am touching you now, ain’t I?” He keeps stroking the outside of your lower lips.

“More, please.” You whimpered.

“Well, you leave me no choice now, since you asked so nicely”

He wasted no time gathering the slick from your opening and plunging his thick middle finger in and out. Your breath catching at the sudden but welcome stretch. Not long after, his ring finger joined inside and he curled them both up, searching and finding the spot that makes your eyes roll and your hips buck into his hand in shock.

“sit still, angel.” He placed his other hand on your lower stomach to keep your back rested on the couch. He picked up the pace of his fingers thrusting in and out, in and out, massaging the same spot over and over and over. He felt your walls slightly tightening around his fingers, and there’s a change in the rhythm of your breathing. You’re close. “Cum for me, angel. Come on lemme see this pretty pussy droolin’ for me”. He kept his pace up until you were gasping for air. And with a specifically strong stroke, your walls clumped down, choking his fingers and soaking them to the wrist. Working you through your high, he kept his eyes on you, the sight of you coming apart on his fingers. Heavenly.

He took his fingers out and sucked them with lewd, obscene sounds. He made a show to lick his palm clean of your release and humming around his fingers. “Next time, I’m havin’ it straight from its source” he leaned down and kissed your parted lips. “Oughta have a palate cleanser ‘f we’re gonna give your coffee a fair shot” he gave a playful smack to your ass “and you sure know how to make ‘em.”

You blushed and giggled as you couldn’t help the giddy feeling of the prospect of a next time. The image of Joel relishing the taste of you is already seared deep in your brain. You couldn’t wait to have these slurping noises happening between your legs, certain already that he doesn’t eat, he devours.

He sat up on his haunches and lowered his boxers below his balls. He took his cock in his hand. Not even his large hand wrapped around it makes it seem any less girthy. The head is angry and leaking a steady stream. He gives himself slow, languid strokes from base to red-purplish head. You couldn’t help yourself, you sat up and your hand took over his. Stroking him at the same pace he was. He shuddered at your touch and marvelled at the contrast between his rough, calloused hand versus your soft, smooth ones on his cock. You gradually increased the pressure, adding a twist at the end that sent his head falling back with a stifled groan between his clenched teeth.

His hands were tight fists by his sides, desperately trying to hold off but ready to pounce at you any moment. “Hold on, baby” he groaned “I- I gotta grab a condom”

“But I wanna feel you, and I’m safe” you said in a little, unsure voice. Still stroking him and loving the velvety softness enveloping the steely hardness. When your gazes met again, the hungry look in his eyes made a tiny sound climb to the back of your throat. With that, the last thread holding off the beast inside him snapped. With a low growl he grabbed your ankles, yanking you closer to his pelvis, making your back hit the soft pillow on the couch with a dull thud.

“Baby, I’m clean too. But I need ya to be sure, angel. ‘Cause when I start, ‘m not really sure I can stop” He said through dark eyes that were straining to hold off.

You held firm eye contact with him “I’m sure, Joel. Please fuck me now”

“Yes, ma’am” with that, he ran his cock through your slit, gathering you wetness before lining it with your entrance and with one quick motion he sinks into you. Your moans and his name on your tongue, dripping honey onto his ear. He feels your warmth enveloping every inch of him. He wants to get lost in the feeling. To replace every bad memory he has with this sensation, the divine fit of your silky smooth walls, encompassing him. So tight, so soft, so perfect.

As his hips rocked back and forth, you wrapped your legs around him, and dug your heels into his ass, wanting him impossibly deeper. Sweet, delightful, damn-good coffee making, thoughtful, eager, greedy little thing. He removed his hands from beside your head to hold the base of your skull in one of his palms and wrap the other under your waist for leverage. Grunting into your neck while your pretty moans filling his ears got louder as he moved in a pace that promised him a date with painkillers and an ice pack on his back tomorrow night.

When he felt the telltale signs of your near release, he gently let go of your head to bring his hand down and circle your bundle of nerves. Your continuous string of frantic pleads prompted him to lay soothing kisses to the corner of your mouth. With a compulsive string of “it’s okay, baby”, “sound so pretty whinin’ like that”, and “just let go for me, princess.”

The last one pushing you over the edge. With your legs quivering, your breathing turning into shallow panting and your hands clawing at his back. He was working you through it all with a “that’s it, angel. There ya go”, “so good for me” and “look so pretty cummin’ on my cock”.

Once your muscles stopped contracting and your heartbeat settled on. Joel switched to a more gentle pace. You stuttered out between small gasps of air “cum for me, Joel. Fill me up”. Leaving him no choice but to buck into you wildly with renewed vigour. Fucking you like all of his goddamn life is depending on it.

Loving the effect you have on him, you whispered “Wanna feel you inside me after you leave, Joel”. This makes his release hit him like a freight train. With a few forceful plunges and a string of grunted out fucks. He shoots his load with a prolonged groan of your name, painting your walls with strong, long spurts. He came so hard, he thinks he blacked out for a minute.

He collapsed on top of you, nuzzling in your neck and surrounding himself in your scent as he comes down from his high. In the middle of the chaos of regulating heartbeats and relaxing bodies, your laboured breathing turns into a giggle when his beard tickles your neck and under your jaw. He lifted his head to look at you with a “what?” and scrunched eyebrows. You stifled your giggle with a shake of your head. Only failing when he dips his head in your neck again. He smirked when realisation hit him. Lifting his head again “You’re ticklish ain’tcha, angel?” His face is so close your noses were touching.

You pressed your lips in a firm, straight line and shook your head again.

“No? So you don’t mind me doing this?” He rubbed his beard on your neck again and again. You went into a giggle fit that triggered his own breathy chuckles as he switched to the other side.

“Okay, okay I am, I am!” You managed to say between giggles.

He stopped and looked you straight in the eyes “ ‘s what I thought” he descended his lips on yours and they mingled in a soft, deep kiss that made you lightheaded. He wouldn’t mind getting used to this, “Lemme clean ya up, princess”.

One year later.

The anniversary of your first “get together” is today. Joel wanted to skip work all together, but he knew Tommy would give him shit about it. How ironic.

He rented a gorgeous, comfy cabin for the weekend, that’s a thirty minutes drive away from town. Joel coaxed Sarah into a slumber party at her uncle’s, which she would’ve very happily agreed to either way. But she’s a smart kid and she chose to haggle for a later bedtime and ice cream for dessert both nights.

He wanted to take the extra time to prepare everything you might need, from basic essentials like food or first aid kits, to extra entertainment options like books or puzzles. He doubts they’ll need the latter though.

——

But then again, it’s April, and a storm was closing in. Rendering the drive there too dangerous to make during the night. And the storm is predicted to last the whole weekend, even threatening to close schools on Monday.

“I’m just upset you didn’t get your money’s worth from that cabin” you say with worried expressions as you put away the food that you aimlessly packed earlier.

Joel brings the last of the suitcases in, sitting them by the door. “The owners seem pretty nice, bet they’ll understand and agree to push the reservation back”

“Then, that settles it.” You sighed and closed the fridge with finality. “We’re having our anniversary weekend here” you approached him and wrapped your arms around his neck.

He instinctively placed his hands on the dip of your waist, and grunted with furrowed eyebrows “I got a long ass list of things I wanted to do to you in that cabin, now ‘s just sitting in my wallet mockin’ me”.

“It’s for the better, gives me time to make my own list” you teased him with a wink and a bite to your lower lip.

He squeezed your waist with a low, gravel groan. Eyes on your lips in a strong, hungry stare.

But before he can act on his thoughts you unwrap yourself from his tight grasp and turn away with a shout that carries upstairs “Sarah, change of plans! We’re staying here for the weekend!”

Hearing her footsteps descending the stairs, Sarah asked “you’re staying with us too?”. She squeals when you nod with a bright grin. “Now we can watch that movie I told you about last week!” With that, she drags you into the living room, gushing to you about the movie while you listen with interest and occasional oohs and aahs and reactions Joel knows are genuine.

Every other sound dies down as one thought only echoes in his head.

Oh god, please let me keep her.

The black, velvet box burns a hole in his suitcase. And item no.1 on his list sits idle by, just waiting to be checked.

He knows you’ll say yes, this isn’t a subject you avoid. You’re both aware of what you want in a relationship and you communicate your needs to each other. So you’re both sure that you’re on the same page. The element of surprise lies in the timing and method only.

As he looks at you and his daughter, he knows that this feels right. This is how it is supposed to be.

Okay, he owes Tommy an apology. Because now he understands disgusting, lovesick smiles and the urge to get out of work early. He understands six month anniversaries, because when he’s with you; there isn’t a damn thing he wouldn’t do for the mere chance to make you happy.

A Sweet, delightful, damn-good coffee making, thoughtful, eager, greedy, dreamy little thing.

My Sweet, delightful, damn-good coffee making, thoughtful, eager, greedy, dreamy little thing.

——

A/N : Again, if you’re still here, I love you so much & you made my day <333 pls tell me your thoughts! I write cuz i love doing it but i need to know if i should continue to upload or just let the contents of my delulu brain stay in my phone 🫣

Loon out, luv yaa <33

#undercoveraprilshowerschallenge #joel miller x f!reader #joel x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel miller #joel tlou #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller fic

252 notes · View notes

whocaresstillthelouvre · 1 month

Text

Domestica - A Joel Miller Drabble

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Pairing: Pre Outbreak Joel Miller x Female Reader Word Count: 1,100 Summary: It's Joel's birthday, you're the best gift he can ask for. Warnings: No outbreak (happy birthday bb), smut, domestic fluff, Joel's POV. A/N: This absolutely planted in my brain and I couldn't do anything until I wrote it out. Masterlist

Heavy footsteps down the stairs, the jingle of his belt as he buckles it, the sound of a metal fork clanging against a glass bowl as eggs are whisked, the sizzle of bacon frying in the pan, Sarah gently humming a tune as the the orange juice pitcher glugs. Breakfast in the Miller household every morning plays all of the familiar sounds he loves to hear.

Every morning he wakes up reaching for you, but you’re an even earlier riser than him. The side of your bed empty, the plant that used to sit half dead on the bedside table now blooming and healthy, akin to how he feels about his life ever since you entered it.

——

He wraps his arms around you as you stand at the stove flipping bacon in the pan, sneaking a kiss to your neck as Sarah’s back is turned away. “Mornin’,” he breathes against your ear loving how you instantly mold to his body.

Your body fits so perfectly against his, no matter what time of day. Innocent morning hugs while Sarah’s around, lazy evening cuddles on the couch after dinner, smoldering night time hips meeting as he enters you.

“Happy birthday,” he can hear the smile in your voice as you softly thud your head against his broad chest. “You forgot to buy pancake mix, so it’s eggs and bacon for breakfast.”

“Fine by me,” he says against your head, kissing the top of it before pulling away to pour himself a cup of coffee. He refills your empty cup without asking, adding a heaping spoonful of creamer and a sprinkle of sugar, knowing exactly how you take it.

The best present he can be given today is seeing his girls at his table, you making Sarah giggle as you tease her about the actor she has a crush on. His hand on your thigh choosing to eat one handed because you’re still wearing your sleep shorts, those same shorts he peeled off your body last night before bed.

The diamond on your finger glinting in the sunlight pouring in from the windows, he moves his hands up to it to pet the hard stone, proud of himself for finding the ring of your dreams. He remembers the tears welling in your eyes as he asked you to marry him, those same eyes he looks for in a crowd, the same eyes that brighten when they see him.

“Bear, did you remember to grab the extra pack of highlighters I had in my desk?” He loves how you have your own pet name for Sarah. He loves how you’ve stepped right into being a coparent with him, leaving him feeling like he’s no longer struggling underwater slowly being drowned by his job and trying to be the best single parent he can be. He loves that Sarah loves you as much he loves you. You’re his gift that keeps on giving.

“Yep, thank you!” she winks at you, he loves how he can instantly tell the two of you are scheming together and how bad the two of you are at playing coy.

“I gotta get ready before it’s any late,” you rise from the table. “Be good today Bear,” he’ll never tire of seeing the way his daughter smiles as you kiss the top of her forehead. He swears your influence has kept her just as sweet in her teenage years as she was as a little girl.

“I’ll be up later to say goodbye after Tommy gets here,” he says as you bend over and kiss his cheek.

——

He can hear the shower on, a song quietly playing on the shower radio that you sing along to. The mirror’s fogged up, he can smell the sweet scent of your body wash wafting through the air mixing with the steam. “Baby, I’m leaving now,” he speaks over the song.

“Okay,” you open the shower door, naked and soaking wet, his hands tighten into frustrated fists because he can’t join you. “Still going to be late?”

“Afraid so,” he stands outside the tub, the walls of it his own blockade stopping him from being any later.

“Well, Sarah and I will go get a cake for you so at least you’ll have that whenever you get home,” you lean forward, your body dripping water on the floor and his boots.

“Thanks baby,” he wraps his arms around you, he doesn’t care how wet you’re getting his shirt, it’ll be a nice reminder of your body against his as it dries.

“I love you,” you look up at him and smile waiting for a kiss. “Have a good birthday day.”

“I’ll miss you,” his lips brush against yours, restraining himself to keep the kiss from turning heated.

A honk from outside rattles him out of the daydream of stripping off his clothes and joining you, pushing your naked body against the wall and fucking you against it.

“You better get going,” you lean away and step back under the water.

“Shit,” he adjusts the crotch of his jeans as you giggle at his predicament.

“Goodbye birthday boy, love you,” you shut the shower door, going right back to singing your song on the radio.

He stomps down the stairs annoyed that the last vision he’ll have of you on this birthday morning is you naked and smiling at him while water drips down your body.

——

That night after tucking Sarah in with a kiss on her forehead and a stroke of her soft cheek as she sleeps, he walks into his room to find you laid out on the bed, only the thin sheet covering your body, your eyes staring at him with a smirk on your lips. You look like a temptress, and he’s fallen under your spell.

“Happy birthday baby,” you whisper as you climb on top of him.

The gasp you let out as he enters you, shared moans muffled by each other’s lips, your slick squelching as he fucks into you, his tongue lapping up your wetness, the slurp of your lips as you suck him. Nighttime in Joel’s room plays all of the familiar sounds he thinks about during the day. The thought of seeing the way you smile whenever he sticks his cock in you gets him through the worst of days.

——

In the early morning he wakes up sweaty and panicked, panting for air terrified from his nightmare. You turn over, and grab the hand on his chest, soothing him back to sleep with your sweet voice and soft body against his reassuring him he hasn’t lost anything.

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller/reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel miller smut #no outbreak #no outbreak!joel miller

260 notes · View notes

kennarose1108 · 2 months

Text

Anthony Bridgerton x Reader !CHILDHOOD ENIMES! !PART 2!

ANTHONY'S POV

Anthony's life had never been easy. His father's death and the pressure of being the man of the house so young were hard on him. But one thing was always easy...

Getting under her skin.

He loved teasing her, he loved the way she pouted, hell... He loved her.

But he knew it would never last. She hated him and she was his sister's best friend. So he buried his feelings for her and moved on with his life. The last two years it was easy since she wasn't around... He even got a fiancé... But the second he saw her... Everything came flooding back.

He was at Lady Danbury's ball when she entered. The crowd went silent and his gaze fell on what they were looking at... Her.

All the men wanted her, all the women wanted to be her.

She looked absolutely and utterly stunning. Breathtaking... Beautiful... He couldn't even name every word of how she looked in that stunning blue dress.

But then he saw the look of panic on her face and the way her body trembled... Clearly being in the spotlight was getting to her.

He was just about to go to her to save her from the torture she was going through when Lady Danbury did it before him.

His eyes never left her... While she talked and laughed with Lady Danbury... God... That smile... He wanted her, he needed her... But something snapped him back into reality. Well, more like someone.

"Anthony," Kate spoke with a smile. "Is everything alright?" She asks while wrapping her hands around his arm. He was flustered and startled at first at her sudden presence but he quickly regained composure.

"I'm fine." He murmured with a small smile. He and Kate spoke for awhile and he did his best to keep his gaze on the woman before him and not the woman across the room. But the feeling of someone staring at him caught his attention and he looked away from Kate and his eyes met yours. He felt his heart skip a beat as you two made eye contact. But quickly your gaze fell and you looked away.

But Anthony couldn't lose this chance. He looked at Kate, excused himself and explained why (not the whole truth), and walked over to her and Daphne.

He smiled widely and threw open his arms, "Sweetheart!" He called out. He chuckled softly as he saw her hiding behind his sister, Daphne. He pulls her from behind Daphne and hugs her tightly. He took in her scent, she smelled like roses...

Damn... Now every time he smelled or saw roses he was going to think of her.

She didn't hug him back, as expected, and he could hear his sister snorting behind him. Anthony pulled away and pinched her cheek like he always did, "Nice to see you again sweetheart. You look stunning. Did your mother doll you up?" He asks and she smacked his hand away.

She glared at him, "Aww. Don't pretend you didn't miss me, sweetie." He says while nudging her slightly. "Goodbye Anthony." She says before turning away. God... His name sounded so good in her mouth...

He wondered what else would be good in her mouth...

But she stopped. Her mother was coming with a creepy old man that he could tell her mother wanted to marry her off to... Yeah, there's no way he was going to let that happen.

He inched closer to her, maybe even too close for her comfort, before whispering in her ear, "Y'know... I can save you... You'll just have to accept my offer for a dance."

He heard her sigh and she turned around to him with a glare on her face, "I'm doing this to get away. Don't think you're saving me." She says while pointing at him. He chuckles, "Of course not sweetheart."

"And stop calling me that!" She says angrily and he lets out a small laugh as she takes his hand. Her hand felt so good in his, even though he couldn't feel her skin, her hand still being in his felt really good.

He pulled her along to the dance floor before shifting her off into a dance. They danced smoothly and effortlessly. It was silent for the first minute and she avoided his gaze.

"Your mother trying to sell you to that old man?" Anthony asks and she finally looks at him. "Sadly yes. But I'm not interested. I'm not interested in anyone really." She says, managing a shrug through their dancing. Before he could question her further on that she spoke again, "But I see you are. Engaged huh? I never thought I'd see the day." She says with a chuckle.

"And why's that? Thought I'd always be a bachelor for the rest of my life?" He teases, and she rolls her eyes. "No, I just never thought there would be a woman on this planet who could tolerate you long enough." He laughs a genuine laugh.

"Speaking of which, would your bride-to-be, be upset you're dancing with another woman?" She asks with a smirk, he chuckles. "No... She knows I'm hers."

That was a lie. He thought. Well, maybe not the part of Kate thinking he was hers... But in truth, his heart did not belong to Kate... It belongs to Y/N. For years, it was always hers.

"Good. I don't feel like getting into a fight tonight... Although it would make this boring evening even better." She says and the dance ends. They both stop and stare at one another, the tension palpable between the two. He saw her neck shift as she swallowed the lump in her throat before she gave him a curtsy and he gave her a bow...

"Thank you Mr Bridgerton..." She murmured while pulling herself back up and adjusting her dress. "But I can't avoid my mother any longer." She says softly and before he could say a word she brushes past him and towards her mother.

Oh... She felt it. That strange feeling. The one that he felt so many years ago that blossomed into love...

But it could never happen. Not in a million years. He knew that.

But why does his heart still yearn for her?

PART 3

#bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 spoilers #colin bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton spoilers #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton x reader #reader x anthony bridgerton #y/n x anthony bridgerton #anthony x kate #kate bridgerton #kate x anthony #kanthony #edwina sharma #daphne bridgerton #lady danbury #fanfic #fanfiction

159 notes · View notes

astrolynnworld · 5 months

Text

soft secrets

pairing: sub!chris x reader

summary: chris gets caught using the readers vibrator when they’re gone

warnings: smut, toy use, sneaky, caught, sex, sub chris, dom reader, language, “mommy” use, riding, reassurance, little bit of romance,

word count: 1,213

chris’s pov:

when y/n said she had to go to the store real quick i knew i had 30 minutes max before she came back

i knew it was wrong but i enjoyed when y/n wasn’t here because i get to do the stuff i would never have the confidence to tell her

such as.. use her hidden vibrators

don’t know how i came about this secret pleasure of mine but i know it started from my curiosity

that’s usually how i tend to spark interests yet this isn’t an interest i wish i necessarily sparked

as the door shuts indicating y/n’s exit, i rise up out of bed and find myself over at the box of toys that she keeps deep in our closet

i grab pink vibrator that peaks out the top of the box and i return back to the bed

i turn on the vibrator and trace it over the fully formed bulge in my boxers

slowly getting into the sensation i slide my dick out my boxers and trail the vibrator up and down my shaft

i throw my head back against the bed frame as i start to circle my tip that is now leaking precum

that is until i hear the door swing open

———————————————————————

y/n’s pov:

i put on my jacket, take my keys and grab my purse as i kiss chris goodbye

i tell him that i won’t be long because im just running to the store real quick to grab a few essentials

i shut the front door and make the trip to our shared car

i get in, buckle up and start the engine before i o realize that my phone didn’t automatically connect to the bluetooth

i get out the car to see if i dropped it anywhere as i make my way back inside the house

i open the door and see that chris is no longer in the kitchen so i quickly look around to see if i had left it in there

no luck.. so i make my wake to the bedroom

i open the door, “chris have you se-“ i stop abruptly at the scene in front of me

chris starts to tussle around with the blankets trying to hide himself

“what are you doing? i thought you left.” chris tries to distract

“yeah.. i think i left my phone in here so i came back.” i reply unamused by his distraction

a silence fills the room

“is this what you do when im not here? touch yourself with my toys?” i say as i step closer to the now shy boy

“i- .. i w-“ he tries to speak before i interrupt him but pulling the covers away

now revealing his throbbing hard dick leaking precum

“awee did my vibrator do that to you?”

he stares silently

i turn the vibrator back on and place it against his tip to which he shivers from the stimulation

“so tell me baby, do you always touch yourself with my things when i’m gone?”

he shyly nods his head

i turn off the vibrator, “i need you to use your words baby. or im going to stop every time”

“yes. i start to touch myself with your toys every time you walk out that front door” he fusses in response to the lack of attention on his hard cock

“and why haven’t you told me that you like to use my toys?” i say as i start the vibrator back up

“aah- be- because i thought you would judge or not like it” he whines out

“aw i would never judge you baby. you don’t need to be afraid to tell me about any of your guilty pleasures” i say softly as i place a kiss on his lips

as i pull back from the kiss he stares at my lips all foggy eyes, chasing in for another one

i continue to circling and drag the vibrator all on his cock as i kiss his needy lips

“fuck y/n- i need to be inside of you so bad” he throws his head back and whines

“beg for it.” i demand

“aah- please y/n. please slide your wet pussy on me. i need it so fucking bad, i’m aching for you-“

“i don’t know. i think im just-“ i interrupt

“please mommy.” he looks up into my eyes

mommy? he’s never called me mommy before. fuck did that turn me on

“i’ll be such a good boy for you mommy.. just please please please fuck me. i need your pussy so bad” he continues

i bend down and start kissing him on his lips, neck, and shoulders as i undress myself naked

i reposition myself to sit on his stomach while he lays flat on the bed

he starts groping at my boobs so i bend down to give him better access

he starts licking and sucking my nipples, knowing how sensitive they get with oral stimulation.

i start moaning at the feeling of his tongue tickling my nipple

“good boy baby. you’re so good for mommy” i say as i slowly start to adjust his cock with my hole from the back

i start to sit upright so i can get a better angle sliding myself on his cock.

as i sink down, he moans and throws his head further back into the bed

“aah- fuck.” he lets out a gasped whimper

“oh my god baby.” i join in with a whimper

i start gliding myself up and down his cock at a comfortable pace but i could tell chris was struggling to maintain his peace

he kept writhing and making cute little sounds under me

“you’re so fucking hot baby. keep feeling good for me” i speak out

“you’re so fucking tight mommy. it feels too good, i don’t know how long i can last.” he whines out with his eyes shut

“im close too baby” i say as i grab the vibrator that was now set to the side and place it on my clit

“ooh fuck” i tilt my head back as i continue the steady pace of my bounces

i bend back down to sloppily kiss chris

i start to go faster as i feel my orgasm starting to pool from my stomach

“fuck- mo- mommy you’re getting so tight. i’m gonna c- cum, can i cum please miss?” chris mutters out

“yes baby. cum with me” i say as my orgasm washes over me

i feel chris start to thrust up chasing his own orgasm.

our thrusts decreasing as we finish the chase for our highs, just heavy passionate breathing while we calm down.

“you’re so fucking amazing baby i really do love you” chris breaks the silence

i smile and bend down to kiss him, “i love you more chris” i say as i pull away and get off top of him

“see what could happen if you tell me about all your fantasies and guilty pleasures?“ i laugh

“im never gonna judge you. cause 9 times out of 10 i’ve probably already either thought it or want it too.”

he smiles and leans in for another kiss

“now actually where’s my phone? i still need to go to the store.” i conclude

———————————————————————

a/n- i love combining requests into one big juicy story! so i hope you guys enjoyed 🫠

640 notes · View notes

wifeyifey · 2 months

Note

I beg you, transformers x fem reader

I don’t care what you write or anything, i’m on my optimus and bumblebee obsession phase pookie please

For you pookie bear 😘💖💞

Bayverse!Optimus and Bayverse!Bumblebee x fem!reader

Description: How they react to your random silent treatment

A/N: Optimus' part is so freaking soft and sweet 🥺 and then Bee's is corny and cheesy fluff and this is just a short reaction to get back into the groove of writing again!!

Silence. The silence was killing them- they didn’t even know what they did wrong as they saw their precious human woman talking to Cade like it was no big deal that they hadn’t spoken to their lover in hours. They had thought maybe she just didn’t hear me or was too busy to notice. But that thought was quickly replaced when they noticed she was able to talk to everyone else just fine.

What they didn’t know was that (Y/N) was just testing their patience to see how long they could go before they got mad at her for playing such games.

Enough was enough.

Optimus:

Optimus POV

Optimus watched and waited until (Y/N) was alone to approach her so that she would be forced to talk to him. Optimus walked up to her before kneeling before her. He gently put his hand down for her to climb onto hoping that she would accept his silent invitation. When she climbed onto his hand he thanked the stars that she didn’t seem to be as mad as he thought she originally was. He then stood and walked away from the group enough to have some privacy as he spoke to her.

Once at the spot that was hidden and far away enough, he sat down on the ground and held her up so he could look at her but her head was stubbornly turned away from him. Optimus sighed softly as he gently placed his finger under her chin and carefully turned her head to look at him. Longing shined in his optics. “Sweetspark… have I done something so wrong that you no longer wish to speak to me?” Optimus asked (Y/N) with his deep voice as his head gently moved to look her in the eyes.

(Y/N)’s POV:

Your heart ached as you looked at him and heard the genuine worry in his tone. The silent treatment was over for you the moment you saw and heard the hurt he tried so hard to hide. “No no no, Optimus- I-... I was just being childish- you did nothing wrong. Believe me, you did nothing-,” you rambled before he cut you off.

“But you have stopped speaking to me. You are not one to do such things without reason,” Optimus interrupted.

You tried to think of a reason that wouldn’t make him angry at you, “Bee told me to do it.” Really? Well, at least it’s believable. You think in your head as you give a sheepish smile and gently reach forward to cup his cheeks. “I’m sorry, Optimus. I didn’t realize how upset you would get,” you say softly as you place gentle kisses on his face making him close his eyes softly in relief.

“Please don’t play such games again. My spark burns for you and you alone. It can’t accept you being so upset with me,” he says softly in an almost uncharacteristically soft way.

“I promise. Do you forgive me?” you ask.

“Of course.” He says as he gently touches his forehead to yours.

Bumblebee:

(Y/N)’s POV

You were just saying goodbye to Cade as you walked away and towards the rest of the group. Unbeknownst to you, Bee was watching with desperate eyes as he waited for you to come to him, but when he saw you walk the opposite way he became frustrated.

You were walking while looking at your phone when you heard a quiet whine and then loud footsteps that came rushing up behind you before you could even react, you were lifted up by Bee before he quickly transformed into the Camaro where you’re in the driver’s seat and buckled in before he speeds off at high speeds into the desert. You let out a yelp at the sudden and quick change as you watch the speedometer climb.

“Bee! What are you doing?! You’re going too fast!” You say slightly panicked as you hold onto the door handle and the armrest desperately.

“Shouldn’t have ignored me, babygirl,” Bee’s radio said as he changed through the stations to communicate his frustration, “now we ride!” he finished before purposefully swerving and doing donuts in the empty desert making you let out a shriek and a loud nervous laugh realizing how annoyed he was by your silent treatment.

“Ok! Ok! I’m sorry, Bee! I- I’m going to be sick!” you say between giggles as he finally stops and transforms into his humanoid form with you cupped in both of his hands as he rubs his mouthpiece against your face affectionately in a playful manner.

“My honeypie, my sugarpie, my princess, my babygirl, my hot mama!” his radio blasted as he switched through channels making you laugh out loud as you grabbed his head and kissed his mouth piece over and over in loving affection.

“You’re so annoying- you know that? You’re lucky you’re cute and I love you so much,” you say to him as you look into his eyes with a softened, fond smile.

“I’m lucky I have ya darlin’,” his radio switched to a cowboy accent that spoke so softly making the moment more loving and intimate.

Lmk what y'all think!!

#transformers x reader #transformers bayverse x reader #optimus x reader #optimus prime x reader #bumblebee x reader

338 notes · View notes

snowsinterlude · 1 month

Text

˚ ᜔ ࣪ gone girl. 🪽 ͣ ͣ

(coriolanus snow x reader)

summary: coriolanus snow, your dear husband, was the prime suspect ever since you disappeared.

c.w: short, short fic, drama, mentions to cheating, mature content, coriolanus pov, mentions of blood and crime scene.

a/n: i may keep this idea alive if it doesn't flop. this is just the first part of the movie/book and will probably be a looong fic. thank youu

when I think of my wife, I always think of her head. In her shape, first of all. when we first met, it was the back of the head I noticed, and there was something lovely about it, about its angles. like a hard, shiny grain of corn, or a fossil in a riverbed. It was what the victorians would call a beautifully formed head. you could imagine the skull quite easily.

I'd recognize her head anywhere.

and what was inside it. I also think about this: her mind. her brain, all those spirals, and her thoughts darting through those spirals like fast, frantic centipedes. like a child, I imagine myself opening his skull, uncoiling her brain and searching through it, trying to capture and understand her thoughts. what are you thinking, Y/n? the question I asked most often during our marriage, though not out loud, not to the person who could answer. I suppose these questions hang like dark clouds over every marriage: what are you thinking? how are you feeling? who are you? what have we done to each other? what will we do?

standing outside of our home, by the trash cans, i decided to enter our home. asleep, she didn't bother waking up and greeting me, kissing me goodbye. I thanked her for it, for giving me the place to be the caring husband of a tired wife.

making my way to the clothing shop I owned with my cousin, I was forced to move back to the old penthouse in Panem when she called; grandma'am was sick.

“Tigris, I'll come back home. you don't have to take care of everything alone.” I said. she didn't believed me- i could hear her sighing on the other side of the line. “I'm serious, Ti. and why not? there's nothing for me here.

“And Y/N?”

I haven't thought about it. I simply thought that I could wrap my capitol wife with her capitol interests, her capitol pride, push her away from her capitol parents and everything would be fine. it wouldn't. of course it wouldn't.

but would I admit it? of course no.

“Y/N will be fine. she..” I stopped myself before saying that she loved Grandma'am. she didn't. every encounter they had was a shock to both of them. Y/N would spend days dissecting a single conversation they had. “— and what does she mean with…” as if my Grandmother was a stranger to the Capitol, as if she was a beggar who was begging for something that wasn't offered in the first place.

and yet, with her wanting nothing to do with my family, i still thought it was a great idea to bring her to the other side of where we lived on the capitol.

“well, hello, your majesty.” Tigris said, sprinkling water on my face.

“your majesty doesn't like getting wet.” I said.

“yeah, fine. what's up, snowflake?” she asked. I didn't answer.

“i cheated on her.” i blurted out.

“on who- on y/n? coriolanus are you crazy?”

“what- no! i'm not. i was tempted and-”

“and nothing. y/n loves you– or so i think. do you know what women do when they discover something like that?” Tigris looked at me angrily, and for the first time i felt fear- true fear. the more i thought about it, the more i felt dumb. my wife would go through heaven and hell if it meant she could have her vengeance on something that hurt her. “you better pray for her not to find out. we both know y/n is not that simple to deal with.”

🪫

it was our fifth year aniversary when i woke up with my breath warming the pillow this morning. i walked barefoot to the edge of the stairs and listened, playing with my toes on the thick wall-to-wall carpet that y/n hated on principle, as i tried to decide if i was ready to join my wife. y/n was in the kitchen, oblivious to my hesitation. she hummed something melancholic and familiar. i struggled to figure out what it was—a folk song? a lullaby? — and then i realized it was the theme song to virgins suicides. suicide is painless. I went down the stairs.

nothing is happy with her.

y/n spied the crepe sizzling in the pan and licked something off her wrist. she looked triumphant, the typical married woman. if i held her in my arms, i would smell red fruits and powdered sugar.

when she saw me looking at me in my old boxer shorts, my hair standing on end, she leaned on the kitchen counter and said:

“hello, handsome.” fear filled my throat. i thought to myself: okay, go ahead.

💋

i was very late for work. my cousin and I had done a foolish thing when we returned to our grandma'am house. we did what we always said we wanted to do. we opened a bar. we borrowed money from y/n for this, eighty thousand dollars, an amount that had once been nothing to her, but was then almost everything. i swore I would return it, with interest. i wasn't going to be a man who borrowed money from his wife — I could feel my father grimacing at the mere mention of the idea. well, there are all kinds of men, was his most damning sentence, the second half unspoken: and you're the wrong kind.

but it was actually a practical decision, a smart business move. y/n and I needed new careers; that would be mine. she would choose one someday, or not, but in the meantime, it would produce an income, made possible by the rest of the nest egg. just like the ridiculous house I had rented, the bar appeared symbolically in my childhood memories — a place where only adults went, to do whatever adults did. maybe that's why I insisted so much on buying it after being deprived of my livelihood. it was a reminder that I was an adult after all, a grown man, a useful human being, even though I had lost the career that had made me all those things. I wouldn't make that mistake again: the once-vigorous herds of magazine journalists would continue to be slaughtered—by the Internet, by the recession, by the Panem public, who preferred to watch TV, play video games, or electronically inform their friends that, like, rain It sucks! But there was no application for a rush of bourbon on a hot day, in a cool, dark bar. the world will always want a drink.

we called the bar The Bar. “people will think we're ironic rather than creatively bankrupt,” my cousin reasoned.

yes, we thought we were smart in a New Panem way—that the name was a joke that no one else would really get, not like us. don't meta-sack. we imagine the locals turning up their noses: why did you call it The Bar? but our first customer, a gray-haired woman in bifocals and a pink tracksuit, said, “I like the name. like in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, where Audrey Hepburn’s cat is called Puss.”

we felt a lot less superior after that, which was good.

I entered the parking lot. I waited for a strike to sound at the bowling alley—thanks, thanks, friends—and then I got out of the car. I admired the surroundings, not yet bored by the sight: the squat, light-brick post office across the street (now closed on Saturdays), the unassuming beige office building just below (now closed, period). the city was not prosperous, not anymore, not by a long shot. I dared myself to dream about the long-lost dream i had when i was young; dreaming that i'd be the president that would make Panem great again. that was something that had always been stuck to me. with me.

but now, watching the blood of my wife on the floor of our house when i arrived on our fifth anniversary, a chill went up and down through all my body as i searched for her, my eyes didn't even blink while i searched for anything that prooved me that she's alive; that she's there. and that it was just a prank; but she wasn't. the more i looked for her through the house, the more i saw her, but not physically. i saw her in the small things she put there and there when decorating our house, even on my office there were small things that reminded me of her.

i would never escape her. loved her too much to escape.

so, when the police arrived and searched through all the house– now, a crime scene– and determined that I was the prime suspect, i threw up.

#young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #young president snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #tbosas smut #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x you #x reader

129 notes · View notes

belovedmusings · 2 months

Text

Sugar-coated, lies unfolded.

Choso Kamo x You x Suguru Geto

Explicit Themes 18+ (🚫Minors DNI🚫)

Part nine of the 'Two + One' story. Click for story masterlist.

Guitarist! Choso Kamo is your boyfriend, and he recently just found out that you have feelings for his bandmate, Suguru, and that Suguru reciprocates. He's allowing you to explore that with Suguru...but could you actually do that to him? Sleep with another man?

Relevant tags: sexual tension, thoughts of infidelity, characters with questionable morals, Choso is sweet and loyal, Suguru is charming and sexy, slow burn, no "y/n" for immersion, 2nd POV, reader has no defining characteristics, explicit smut, nipple play (male receiving), oral sex (fem receiving), bathroom sex, love bites, cunnilingus, fingering, squirting, handjob

Recommended songs to listen to while reading: Candy (Doja Cat), I Want It All (Cameron Grey), High Enough (K.Flay, RAC)

A/N: I think satan himself came over me when i wrote this chapter so...enjoy ;)

Read on Ao3 if you prefer!

Or read below cut:

The next morning had gone completely normally. You had woken up with Choso, shared your usual morning kiss, then got ready for the day beside him. You’d had breakfast, your normal conversations, and when he had to go to meet with the band, you had kissed him goodbye and exchanged your ‘I love you’s with him.

It’s when you’re going about your normal day just after you’ve had lunch that you receive a phone call.

Suguru.

He’s never called you before. Choso should be with him–did something happen?

Hurriedly, you accept the call. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Suguru’s buttery voice comes through the speaker casually, and it disarms you from any immediate threats.

“Hey,” You reply, sitting back. “Is everything okay?”

“What, I can’t just call you?” Suguru chuckles on the other end, the sound rattling around inside of you like a marble in a glass jar. You hear a sigh. “Well, I did call you for a reason.”

“Yeah? What is it?”

“He told me about everything,” Suguru says, and your suspicions are confirmed. “He told me about that dream you had of me–which we’ll come back to–then the conversation you had afterwards. You told him all about us, it seems.”

You draw in a breath. “Yes, I-I did…”

“And he told me he wasn’t as upset as he thought he’d be. He felt a little uncomfortable, but then because it’s me, he said it didn’t bother him. Apparently the two of us showing restraint is what let him come to the conclusion to trust us…and let us explore things together.”

You’re worrying your lip so hard between your teeth as you listen that a layer of skin is peeling off. “Yeah…he…he did say that.”

“So…he’s given us his permission,” Suguru states slowly. “On his conditions, of course.”

You know what Suguru is getting at, but there’s just something inside of you reluctant to lean into it. Maybe it’s Choso’s reaction, his patience and unconditional love, or the way the two of you made love the night before. But guilt is killing you.

“I…” You begin, “Suguru…I don’t think I can do it.”

A beat. Then, a sigh. “...it’s because you feel like you’re taking advantage of him, right?”

“Well, yes…it just doesn’t feel right. He said we could, but what kind of loving girlfriend sleeps with her boyfriend’s bandmate?”

“I understand,” replies Suguru, “I feel the same. It’s like exploiting his kindness, isn’t it?”

“Y-yeah, exactly…”

“So, we won’t, then.”

It sounds like a question, even though it’s a statement. “We shouldn’t.”

An unanswer. The two of you are pushing and pulling again.

“Hey, my smoke break is almost over, so I have to go back in. I’ll text you later.”

A part of you is disappointed when he says it. You don’t want to say goodbye yet. You like having him there on the phone.

“Okay,” You respond softly.

“Okay.”

The call ends, and you put your head in your hands.

What on Earth is your life?

Nothing happens for the next four weeks. You don’t see him at all, but he does make it a point to call and text you consistently. Despite not acting on your desires, you grow closer with Suguru over text and phone calls, and if nothing else, he becomes a good friend of yours.

You and Choso have no issues, and life continues on. You don’t sleep with Suguru, you force yourself not to think of him in any sort of sexual way, and you make peace with it.

Everything is fine up until the release party for the album they had been working on, and recently just completed.

You got done up in makeup, styled your hair, put on a dress suited for the occasion, and went with Choso to Suguru’s place where he’s holding it.

On the way there, you tell yourself nothing will happen. You haven’t reached out to him, asking to see him, you haven’t had another dream, and your thoughts of him have remained innocent. You have your mind in order.

All of that goes to hell immediately when you lay your gaze on Suguru, the moment after you set foot in the house.

He’s there in black jeans and an equally black tank-top, sinfully tight and leaving nothing to the imagination. It’s like he wore that just to remind you of everything that you’ve been lusting after; his bulging muscles, the piercings adorning the centers of his two pecs, the tattoos undulating over his pale skin…and that’s just his body. His face…god, his face.

His inky midnight hair falls in thick tresses down his shoulders, framing a face painters would vy for. Piercings and thick liner rimming his eyes, he’s the closest thing to a rock god you have ever seen.

“Hey,” He greets you, and you think maybe he’s already said ‘hello’ to Choso but you aren’t sure. You muster up a smile, trying your best to salvage your resolve.

“Hi.”

His gaze lingers on you for a moment as Choso moves in to set his guitar up with the rest of the band’s cozy set-up in Suguru’s spacious living room.

“You look breathtaking,” He tells you, a softness in his eyes that only serves to complicate you.

“So do you,” You say, gesturing to him. He just shrugs, and it seems like his golden gaze pierces through you. You both know what you decided on, but right now the air between you is electric.

All it takes is a glance at the opposite corner of the living room to see Choso’s eyes on you, and you suddenly feel as if you’ve been caught doing something wrong. You flit your gaze back to Suguru for a second, apologetic, before making your way into the house.

After that, it’s sweet, sweet torture.

You feel like you’re on high alert the entire soundcheck. You participate as well as you can in assisting with providing the audience perspective, but you’re so focused on acting normal that you can barely remember anything.

The same goes for the actual release performance. You’d greeted all of Choso’s brothers when they’d arrived, then found your seat at the front of the small folding-chair arrangement, and then fought your way through normal reactions to each song.

You’d heard them all before, as Choso had both played them for you on his phone and practiced them with his guitar, but watching them all put together live with mood lighting, the band all dressed-up…it’s electric.

Between Choso and Suguru, your eyes are feasting. Two gorgeous men, performing, letting their lined gazes gravitate towards you, twin spotlights.

When the set finishes, the after party starts, and you stand up, Choso welcoming you into his arms and giving you a deep kiss as Larue begins to spin the first round of music.

“You did amazing,” You tell your boyfriend, smiling up at him. “This album is gonna be so successful.”

He smiles down at you, leaning in to press another kiss to your lips. “You’ve supported me this whole time. I’m so grateful to you.”

Your hand moves to cup his cheek, and you sigh appreciatively. His chocolate locks pulled up into his signature spiky buns, eyes smoked out with purple and lined with unique markings that touch his nose bridge tattoo, the gentle tenderness in his stare…you just adore him.

“You’re precious to me,” You tell him, speaking from the heart, and you can see the light inside of him brighten a bit.

“I love you.”

He gets your heart to pound even now. “I love you too.”

“Choso!”

The sound of his youngest brother’s voice calling out to him pulls you two out of your little bubble, and you turn to see Yuji walking towards you, his other brothers in tow.

“That was awesome, man!” Yuji says, clapping him on the back. “You gotta introduce us to the band!”

Choso looks at you, unsure to leave you alone at a party full of strangers. You know how important his brothers are to him, so you simply shake your head with a smile. “Go ahead. I’ll be fine, baby.”

He gives you a thankful grin, kissing your cheek before leading the mob of his brothers off to Larue first since he’s the closest.

Bass heavy music fills the mood-lit space of his living room, music executives, other artists, models, whoever Suguru and the rest of the band know fill it with their intoxicated, sweaty bodies. You move to the bar of Suguru’s kitchen, overlooking the living room, deciding to fix yourself a drink to pass the time.

You’ve drunk exactly half of your solo cup when it happens.

Your eyes are dusting over the crowd uninterestedly until they catch on a familiar frame.

Suguru. He’s talking with a woman, a slender, tall figure that must be a model he knows somehow. His hand is on the wall beside her, leaning over her, a loose grin on her flawless face–and immediately an unbridled jealousy wells up inside of you without your permission.

As soon as the sharp negativity registers, Suguru chooses that exact moment to find your gaze with his own. The charming smile he had on his face fades, and you don’t know why, but you feel enraged.

It’s a muddy, red feeling, completely unfounded, shame tinging it dark. But it’s yours, and the longer you stare at him the heavier it feels.

Unable to look at him with another woman any longer, you turn on your heel and head straight for the only place you know you can be alone in this big house–the bathroom.

You’ve just pushed the door open to the empty room when you hear him call to you.

You whirl around, and that’s when he backs you in, shutting the door behind you. The only light in the small room is reflecting from the frosted window at the other end, streetlight outside and the Moon casting a dim glow.

“You’re upset,” Suguru says, hand on your cheek. You avert your eyes, pushing his hand off of you.

“You’re not mine, I have no right to be,” it comes out cold and uneven. “Go back, she’s probably wondering where you went.”

“Forget her, I don’t want her,” He forces your gaze back to him. “I want you.”

The dense air is ripe with stillness. You can’t even hear the loud music outside anymore. Your eyes are locked with Suguru’s, and you know you’re screwed.

He pulls you in and ducks down, beginning to leave feverish kisses over your neck.

“I want you so fucking much,” He breathes, heat fanning over your skin and making you shiver. He looks up at you and leans in real close, the tips of your noses touching. “It’s taking everything in my power not to kiss you right now.”

Involuntarily, your eyes flit down to his lips, and he exhales shakily, closing his eyes and brushing them faintly against yours. You turn your face away.

“We can’t.”

He makes a noise in the back of his throat and tightens his hold on you, dragging his teeth over the skin just under your ear.

“I know we said we wouldn’t,” He replies, “But I can’t do it, I can’t resist you knowing that I can have you like this…”

“I don’t want to hurt him. I love him.” Your resolve is wavering.

“I know,” Suguru murmurs, “He knows, too. Just let yourself have this. Let me do this.”

You swallow hard, a sigh leaving your lips as he trails wet kisses down to your collarbone.

“Let me,” He says, “You want this. You want me.”

You lean back against the counter, hands on the edge as he keeps going further down, this time undeterred by your dress and its neckline.

His lips find the top of your breast, and he looks up at you.

“Tell me to stop.”

Those words can’t even begin to take form on your tongue.

This time, he repeats it in a whisper. “Tell me to stop.”

Fuck it. You can’t stand this anymore.

“No.”

“Then I won’t.”

He pushes the top of your dress unimportantly out of the way, exposing the rest of the soft flesh of your chest.

He eyes your breasts with desire before looking up at you, making sure you’re watching him before parting his lips and swiping his tongue out, letting the bead of his piercing catch on your stiff peak.

You gasp, and his lips turn up at the corners. Then he does it again. His thumb rubs the one not getting worked by his mouth, and you watch as he flutters his tongue over the bud, closing his lips around it and sucking.

“Ah,” You moan, head falling back. “Suguru…”

“Yes,” He breathes, “I’ve waited so long to hear that, fuck, you are so beautiful.”

You bite your lip as he praises you, arching your back as he continues to devour you. It’s a sinful scene, something so hazy you feel like if you move a certain way you’ll wake from a dream. The little shocks of pleasure undulating down from your peaks start to build heat in your core, wetness pooling in the lace underneath the skirt of your dress.

The bumping of the music outside of the bathroom only adds to the heavy atmosphere, so loud it vibrates the counter behind you, and you have to actually take a moment to realize that Suguru’s lips have started traveling further down your body. Right over the fabric of your dress, he kisses a line as he gets to his knees, leveling himself with your thighs. He looks up at you with those pretty, golden eyes, a translucent midnight in the dim lighting of the moon, rimmed with eyeliner, and he presses a peck to your knee, palms caressing the skin at the hem of your dress.

You can only watch him do it, watch him start littering your skin with kisses, taking your left leg and hiking it over his shoulder to get further up your thighs.

Each brush of his metal-adorned lips has you moving closer to insanity. Little flowers of pleasure bloom every time he sucks a mark and pulls away, the skin tenderized and wet with saliva. The feeling of his hot mouth getting closer and closer to the spot that hungers the most for him intensifies, and soon enough, he pushes your dress up far enough to get it around your hips and out of his way. Panties on display, he locks eyes with you and rubs the skin of your inner thigh slowly, pressing his lips to the dip right beside your apex. You tense, and he grins, flicking his tongue out to run it over the skin there.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” He murmurs, eyes flitting down, then up again. “Right here is where I want to be…”

You swear your heart may give out. You’ve fantasized so much about this moment, and now that it’s happening, you don’t know what to do with yourself. You’re sure any second you’re going to combust.

“I wish you could see your face,” He grins, looking at you with an amused smile. “You want it bad…”

Taking a breath, you try to get a grip to respond. The best you can manage is, “I’m not the only one.”

He chuckles low in his throat, syrupy and rich, and then parts his lips to drag his tongue over the front of your panties.

“Ah!” You gasp, the unexpected movement catching you by surprise. All Suguru does is do it again, this time drawing circles into the fabric with the stud in his tongue, your clothed clit throbbing in delight.

He closes his lips around it, sucking before tilting his head down, rubbing the tip of his nose against the bud.

You shiver, a hand threading into his hair. “Suguru…”

“Keep making those noises for me,” He breathes, kissing the front of your panties a few times, then swirling his tongue around your clothed pearl again. The added friction of the fabric heightens your pleasure, and you feel it getting soaked, a combination of your arousal and his spit. The thought alone furthers your desire.

He adds more pressure on his next lick, and it has you twitching, a soft whimper leaving your lips. He repeats the movement over and over and over again until your breath is hitched and uneven, little moans tumbling freely from your voice.

“Suguru,” You finally warn, “I’m gonna cum…”

“Cum,” He replies, “Cum on my tongue, baby.”

“Ah!” You cry out, the pet name hitting your senses right in their vital points, orgasm sweeping through you like a vengeful spirit claiming its latest victim. He helps you ride it out, keeping his tongue on you until your body begins to relax.

“You’re gorgeous when you cum,” He compliments breathlessly, and you huff in embarrassment.

“Am I really?”

“Yeah,” He nods, gazing at you with blown pupils. “I want to see it again.”

Faster than you can comprehend, he’s hooking your sopping panties out of the way, taking your bare cunt into his mouth.

The sensitivity overwhelms you and you gasp, biting your lip. “Suguru…I-I already came…”

“You can do it again,” He replies, flicking his tongue over the swollen bud at the top of your folds. “Come on, just focus on the feeling…”

It’s a dull yet sharp sort of pain, a kind you discover you like, and you moan as he relentlessly pursues your pleasure, squirming in the vice grip he has on your hips, no doubt destined to bruise. The thought of the shape of his hands branded into your skin tomorrow, ingrained in a phantom ache…it makes your core pulse with need.

He groans, dragging his right hand down your leg, the cool, hard sensation of his rings making you suck your lip between your teeth.

Then, you feel two thick, rough fingers entering you, jewelry and all.

“Oh god,” it comes out desperate and sort of broken, because Suguru is fingering you now, using the beautiful hand he strokes his bass guitar with, and for fuck’s sake he really knows how to use them.

He’s folded the three fingers he’s not using to aim better with the two inside, curling them upwards to prod at the magic spot within you as he sucks hard on your clit.

Your head falls back and you suppress what would have been a pornstar-worthy cry, yet your effort is wasted when on the next thrust of his digits, the sound of your ecstasy is forced out of you as he wriggles his fingers slightly on your g-spot.

“Suguru!”

“Beautiful,” He breathes against your folds, eyes still trained on you as if he was a spectator beholding an art exhibit.

When he says it, it clatters around inside of you like a china plate shattering on a kitchen floor. He must know what it does to you, because he dives right back in, eating you out like his life depends on it, complete with noises generated at the back of his throat like a starved man finally allowed food.

All too soon, as he’d predicted, your second orgasm approaches. It fades in like the start of your favorite Curse Manipulator song, building, building, building—

Something that has never happened before happens.

You feel this release of pressure, an overwhelming rush of heat, the sound of your own wanton scream sounding far away as you soak Suguru’s fingers and chin. He made you squirt. For the first time in your life.

You can barely remember where you are by the time he stands up, licking your juices off of his rings and wrapping his arm back around your waist to get close to you.

Like this, you feel the press of his hard cock straining against his jeans on your thigh and you shiver, meeting his eyes.

“Did you like that?” He asks in a sort of whisper, and you nod mindlessly, leaning forward to kiss him.

Then you remember yourself and the rules, and pull away. He makes a disappointed noise and cups your face with his left hand.

“I wish you could taste yourself on my tongue,” He whispers, touching his nose to yours. “I want to kiss you so badly right now.”

Your eyes meet his, and though you just came twice, you still feel a raging fire inside of you for him.

You don’t answer verbally; you just tilt your head to the side and lay a kiss on his cheek. He sighs, eyes fluttering shut, and you get more bold, kissing a line all the way down his neck. Your hands travel from his shoulders down his chest, over the taut fabric of his black tank top, ghosting over the piercings on each of his pecs on their way down.

You make it to the edge of his shirt and you suddenly become all-too-aware of the fact that you get to touch him. You get to do whatever the fuck you want to him, after all of these months of dreaming about it, he’s finally putty in your hands.

Like a kid in a candy store, your lips latch onto his neck as you push his shirt up, only pulling back to help him take it off and toss it unimportantly to the floor. Your eyes feast on his bare, muscular torso, pale skin seeming to glow in the lavender moonlight. The tattoos on his skin decorate him beautifully, and your vision catches on the twin silver barbels in each of his nipples, mouth salivating. It only worsens when you see the bulge in his black jeans, fiending for release.

How is he this gorgeous?

“Keep looking at me like that and I’m not gonna obey the rules,” He warns softly, hands on your waist, and you meet his eyes, dangerously close to wanting to break them yourself.

“You’re just…” You trail off, laying a hand on his chest and running it down slowly, watching his breath hitch. “God you’re just…”

He smiles slightly, amused, and you just shake your head and lean forward, mouth landing on his collarbone.

Your lips busy sucking marks into his chest, your hands need something new to touch, so you find the buckle of his belt, starting to tug on it.

You can feel the uptick in his heart rate because it’s beating right beneath your kiss, and the knowledge that you’re affecting him so much goes straight to your head.

His hands have moved up to your breasts, kneading them gently as you work his pants open, satisfaction filling you the second you feel the button release.

In search of what you yearn for, you drag the zipper down and dip your hand underneath the waistband of his boxers, at last coming into contact with the smooth, hard heat of his cock. He gasps, breath fluttering, and the moment you wrap your hand around it and pull it free from the confines of his clothing, he groans. It’s music to your ears.

The touches he’s been giving to you intensify as you begin to stroke him, his shaft thick and lengthy in your grasp.

Except for the small amount of precum you spread down his length, there’s nothing to help the glide, but he remedies that by canting his hips forward and raising your knee, cock bumping against your soaked mound. You jolt, thinking he means to slip inside, and he shakes his head.

“I don’t have condoms,” He murmurs, “But you can still get me wet.”

A slight tinge of disappointment fills you—there won’t be that final push tonight, but you’re here and you’re so turned on you can’t think straight, so you do as he says and rub his tip against your folds.

“Oh, fuck,” He breathes out, head falling back. He inhales sharply, starting to rock his hips to rut against you. “Fuck, you feel so soft…”

Your composure utterly gives out beneath you and you fall forward, letting your forehead rest against his chest as he continues fucking against your clit. It’s over-sensitive and puffy, but god damn is it determined to keep up?

Unable to help yourself, you drag your teeth over one of his tattoos, and he grunts, hand winding behind your waist to pull you closer. Spurred on and suddenly level with his pec, you part your lips and allow your tongue to swipe over the pierced nipple beneath it, and he shudders.

“Fuck, baby.”

If he keeps calling you that, you’re going to need to be admitted.

Of course, it only impassions you, and your strokes quicken, hand tightening every time you get to the tip and loosening on the way down.

“Yes,” He sighs out, taking your face in his hand and guiding it up. He looks at you in the eyes for a second, then moves in, planting a kiss left of your mouth. Your eyes close, and he keeps going, giving you desperate pecks as he keeps fucking your hand, getting himself sloppy with your essence, precum mixing in with it.

His mouth finds your ear and he bites at the shell, low groans sending vibrations down your spine.

“I wanna fuck you,” He sounds winded in a way you’ve never heard before, strained, and it’s so fucking sexy. “I wanna be inside of you so badly…I wanna feel every detail.”

“Oh god,” You shudder, eyes squeezing shut, feeling lightheaded.

“If I could, I’d grab you and turn you around,” He tells you, “I’d make you take it all until you’re stuffed with my cum.”

Jesus Christ, that’s the dirtiest thing anyone has ever said to you. Your body trembles involuntarily, clenching on nothing, and you pull him closer, wrapping your legs around his hips. All you can do now is hold his cock down while he ruts against you, friction mutually beneficial, completely losing your mind.

“Would you like that?” He asks, voice sultry like brown sugar, sweet and bad for you.

Still, you nod, long gone, clutching onto him for dear life. “Yes…”

“Yes? Yes, who?” He asks, a dangerous little tinge in his voice, “Who is it that you want to get fucked by right now?”

Fuck, “You…”

His thrusts are turning erratic and you can feel him getting close, muscles tensing up, urgency increasing.

“What’s my name?” He asks you, a soft demand.

Oh god, “Suguru.”

“That’s right,” He murmurs, hissing as he teeters over the edge. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby…”

As if commanded by him, your body seizes up and your third orgasm of the night hits you, nails digging into his shoulder. That’s all it takes for him to follow—he seethes air through his teeth, voice catching in a guttural grunt, and you feel hot semen spilling onto the tender flesh of your mound, staining the fabric of your ruined panties.

“God,” He breathes, trying to calm down, eyes unfocused.

They land on your face, and all he does is look at you for a moment before leaning in, kissing your forehead.

“I won’t see anyone else,” He murmurs to you, firm and breathless.

You shake your head automatically. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“I know.”

Such a violent tenderness erupts inside of you, endorphins and oxytocin swirling around like a hurricane, making a mess of your psyche. He really doesn’t want anyone but you, and that knowledge is sharp like a knife. Despite the danger of it, you don’t want to leave.

If Suguru’s desire for you is destined to swallow you whole, you are royally fucked.

a/n: the way my fingers flew writing this

Please don't copy or repost, but feel free to reblog and share!

Taglist (comment here or my masterlist if you want to be added): @jaegerstan222 , @cosmicstarlatte , @dabisdolly , @moonriseoverkyoto , @propheticfire , @bontensbabygirl , @crlyhairedwxtch , @alittlebirdahgaselx , @okkovtsu , @notbellasstuff , @uchihabbynic , @polaroidnana , @childofilluvatar , @shadowfoxy , @jordan-network , @dreamtravelersade , @unmatchxd , @lucyrocks86 , @spineyy , @k3lbade , @xxbuckpoppi , @naughtygobbo , @slammynics , @roseambers , @luvingyouwasreallyhard , @hinachaaan , @redladyrae-blog , @spiteless-xo , @slutforaz , @bellaabee082 , @thedorklingqueen , @delayedrage , @poopwons , @pandisastergod , @username23345 , @sleazymac-n-cheesy , @forest-haven , @midnaamethyste , @bihanspookies , @mysteriouskiller1 , @liyahthings , @makingtimemine , @tr330 , @captainstarnoir , @nana-lover05 , @vvarkiki , @missmuffinr , @thedamsnackbar07 , @nah-chenford-win

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #suguru geto x reader #choso kamo x reader #choso x reader #jjk imagines #jjk x reader smut #choso jjk #suguru geto #suguru x reader #suguru imagine #suguru smut #getou suguru x reader #geto x you #geto suguru smut #suguru geto smut

165 notes · View notes