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amongemeraldclouds · 25 days

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no take backs

As the earth collapsed around you, your sworn enemy decides to confess his feelings for you with a kiss. So when the world doesn’t end, what happens next?

Jess Mariano x f!Reader

Warning: 18+ only MDNI, fluff, slight angst, unprotected sex, piv, v!fingering, reader has anxiety (only plays a small part in the story), earthquake (no injuries)

Author’s note: Based on this request then I expanded on the concept. This fic is set after he left Stars Hollow.

✿ Masterlist | ✿ Jess Mariano Masterlist | 2.4k words

“Just because I’m letting you drive me home, does not mean we’re friends,” you huffed as you climbed into the passenger seat of Jess Mariano’s beat up car. Vintage, he called it. You’d never admit it, but you found it cute how he was proud of it. To him, it was his key to freedom, going anywhere he wanted whenever he wanted. Except for when nature had other plans.

“Well, a coworker could take his other coworker home, okay?” He said, closing the car door as he slid his keys into the ignition and started up the car. You relent and gave him your address.

It was just your luck that the Earth’s tectonic plates decided to shift in ways that damaged your car, but not your mortal enemy’s. Perhaps it was karma and you were being encouraged to make amends with him in the name of world peace. Try as you might however, the word “peace” and Jess Mariano just did not fit.

It certainly did not feel peaceful being trapped in a car with him. Your cheeks blushed as you remembered how soft his lips felt against yours and the eager way they moved as if it was the final thing he would ever do in his life. And for a few moments back at the publishing house, tucked safely beneath a table while the world shook violently around you, you were both convinced it was your last moments.

It was confusing. The way your heart hammered and you didn’t know if it was from fear of dy*ng or the way his kiss invaded your entire being. From the moans it elicited from your throat, to the air it stole from your lungs, and the butterflies that rushed in your stomach. It was hard to tell if it really was just an earthquake or the mind-shattering truth that your enemy might not actually hate you at all.

Then it was over too soon. The air felt cold without him close to you and he was pulling you up from under the table.

“So we’re just not going to talk about it?” You asked, piercing the awkward silence.

Jess just shrugged and spoke casually, “talk about what?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, of course he wasn’t going to make this easy for you. But he had no right confusing you with a kiss after constantly making your life a living nightmare.

“Jess, you kissed me,” you deadpan, addressing the elephant in the room. “Coworkers don’t kiss other coworkers.”

“A lapse of judgment in a life-threatening situation,” he dismissed, keeping his eyes straight on the road.

Your mouth curled, the sweet aftertaste of his kisses turning sour. You fumed in silence as you looked outside the window with unfocused eyes. You weren’t sure what you were more upset about: his denial or your disappointment - having to face the horrid fact that you also didn’t hate your enemy.

“Shit, the road’s blocked,” Jess drew you out from the thunder of your thoughts as you looked at the cars lined up ahead. It was like a scene from one of those post-apocalyptic films you’ve seen and dread sank in your chest. Perhaps you should stick to watching cheesy rom coms because this pessimism was not helpful at all.

“Can we go somewhere else?” You whispered softly, anxiety bearing down your chest.

Jess looked at you with concern. “Sure, let’s find somewhere we can park until things get better,” he replied with an equally soft tone and you hated it because he knew all about your anxiety and penchant for panic attacks. You didn’t like being weak around him, not if he could be sweet and caring only to take it all back when you’re fine.

He parked the car in between buildings, sheltered from the wails of emergency response vehicles and the rush of people trying to go home. You exhaled after going through rounds of breathing exercises to calm your anxiety.

“My my, a secluded alley. Jess Mariano, whatever do you plan to do with me?” You quipped, mildly accusing him or m*rder when the other meaning dawned on you, something that made you blush. Well, it was too late to back out now.

He smirked, “whose to say you’re not the one who wants to do things with me with that line of questioning, huh?”

“I wouldn’t do anything if I was the only one who liked it,” you hedged. Perhaps life was too short to keep denying your feelings. If there was ever a better time to learn that lesson, it was now. You just needed him to admit he felt it too.

“I don’t like the idea of being k*lled, thanks,” he scoffed as he plastered on a smug smile.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” you looked outside the window, an idea forming in your head.

“It sure is getting hot,” you comment innocently as you undid the top buttons of your blouse. Jess’ eyes followed your movement and you don’t miss the way his breath hitches.

“Better get comfortable, right?” You said, adjusting the car seat to lean back and you felt your blouse open slightly to reveal your cleavage. You were not going to make it easy for him to deny his feelings.

“Stop that,” Jess demanded while his eyes told a different tale of desire and longing.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you replied lazily. Two can play that game.

That’s right Jess, you thought, here’s a dose of your medicine. You continued, “this is much better.” You leaned your head back and stretched on the seat, aware of how your skirt inched up your legs.

You let out a satisfied moan, sighing in pleasure at thoughts of getting comfortable. If by comfort, you meant the satisfaction of derailing Jess’ denial and stubbornness. His eyes traced your legs then followed your chest when they rose and fell with your sigh.

Jess grunted and you bit back a smile. “Okay, fine. So I kissed you,” he admitted.

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “You said it meant nothing, so why would it matter?”

“I never said it meant nothing, I said it was a it was a lapse of judgment.”

“There’s a difference?” You raised your eyebrow, challenging him to continue.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he steeled himself. To Jess Mariano, telling the truth meant peeling back the layers of his sarcasm, which was as painful as stripping off his skin.

“You know when they say the world is about to end, you’d think your life flashes before your eyes. But all I could see was you. And it wasn’t just because you were in front of me. God, I closed my eyes, and all I could see was still you. Laughing at your own jokes, greeting everyone with a smile, typing away on your computer. It would be such a shame if I didn’t get to kiss you if that was the last thing I’d ever do, damn it. But then the earthquake stopped and we were fine.”

Your eyebrows creased as you let his words sink in. “Is it really so bad that we survived?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, “I don’t think I could ever survive you. You frustrate me because you’re just so…you! You’re not someone I could just kiss once and get out of my system. I’d always want more and then I’d inevitably screw it up. It was better that you hated me from the start.”

His eyes burned with untold stories of heartbreak and self destruction. Despite all the ways he infuriated you, you wanted nothing more than to hold him. You had a feeling you were just seeing who he truly was beneath his smug smiles and his devil-may-care attitude.

“Jess, I don’t hate you,” you confess. “Don’t just make it one kiss,” you continue, allowing yourself to be just as honest as him. “Have another one, and another, and heck - have all of me!”

He looked at you in disbelief, as if he wished for the stars and he was told he could have the whole damn galaxy. A spark of joy and hope ignited something wild in him that he no longer let himself think of past regrets and mistakes.

He inched towards you, looking into your eyes for permission and you bridged the distance in response, kissing him. It was fiercer than when you both thought you were on the brink of de*th, because this time, it was a celebration of life and the possibilities that lay ahead.

You felt it when he sucked on your bottom lip and you moaned in pleasure, a small sound for all the words you couldn’t say. How all those time spent hating him was just a shield from your admiration of the man who took destiny in his own hands and never let the world define him.

The man who wrote stories and downplayed them through luck and how ink fumes must have altered his publisher’s minds to pick him. He never once acknowledged his talent, but secretly you did with the way you underlined your favorite sentences and re-read his book as if his words could wrap you in a sweet embrace.

He always kept you at an arm’s length and made your life hell, but it was heaven just being beside him. And you never dared to admit it. Until now, when he’s unbuttoning your blouse as he unravels your secrets. His mouth moves to your neck, setting your body on fire.

“Wait, what if someone sees us?” You ask, a wave of sobriety washing over you.

Jess just smirked, his lips pink and swollen, hungry for more of your kisses. “That’s half the fun.”

You rolled your eyes but god - you needed him. “And the other half?” You asked, mirroring his smirk.

“This,” he just says as he resumes your kiss.

It’s agony when you pull away again just to alleviate your anxiety, “can we at least go to the back?” It’s not much, but it’s better than being right by the windshield.

“Spacious,” he nods, moving away so you could climb over to the backseat. You felt the heat of his stare behind you as you settled in.

He promptly followed suit until your bodies are tangled again with him laying you down the seat, careful so you don’t hit your head. You bring your hand to his stupid hair and run your fingers through it. His hands return to your blouse and your back arches on instinct when he unclasps your bra and he takes a moment to look at you. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he breathes as he squeezes your breast while he licks the other, planting soft tender kisses.

In his car, the sirens and chaos faded. You were consumed by Jess’ touch, both curious and possessive at the same time. His free hand traveling down your leg as he caressed it, slowly making his way to your inner thigh. You can’t help the way you squirmed beneath him as you held your breath in anticipation. In response, you palm his erection beneath his uncomfortably tight jeans and you’re rewarded with a grunt.

He teased you through your panties and you open your legs for him as he moves the thin fabric aside to feel your soft folds. You bite your lip and try to stifle your moan, but Jess brings his mouth to your ear, “I need to hear you, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.” You cursed in response, your mind swimming in a haze of euphoria.

His fingers send shockwaves of pleasure as he spreads your liquid heat, exploring your folds and paying attention to which sensations left you whimpering. He exploited them skillfully, rubbing and teasing, eager to make you a moaning mess for him. You gasped when he plunged his fingers inside you and you arched your back, needing him deeper.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” he admires as he pumped his fingers in and out. You moved your hips against his hand, needing more of him. He was finally here, doing things you used to just dream about, secrets stashed beneath soft covers in your moonlit bedroom.

“Jess, please. I need to feel all of you,” you begged and his eyes darkened.

“I’m all yours,” he replied as he removed his fingers and cleaned them off with his tongue. “Fuck you taste so good.”

You helped him free his hard length and you don’t stifle the needy moan that escapes you this time when he fills you up. He takes a few slow movements before building up to a steady pace, the delicious friction making your toes curl. “You feel amazing, Jess,” you tell him.

He kissed you as he rocked his hips into you, a clash of teeth and tongue. There was nothing gentle in the way you moved against each other, it was pure want and longing crashing into each other. It was months of fantasies finally coming true and desires unleashed building in your core.

The car moved along with you, giving you extra leverage to find your rhythm. The irony was not lost on you that as the world shook around you once again, things were falling into place this time.

Filthy, desperate whimpers escaped his lips and you spread your legs wider, needing him deeper inside you. He squeezed your breast in response and teased your taut nipples, eager to worship all of you. You closed your eyes when you felt yourself teetering on the edge.

“Look at me,” Jess tells you instead and so you do. You see the lust and passion in his eyes and it’s enough to unravel you. Little earthquakes of ecstasy erupt through you as you shuddered against him. He increases his pace, eager to coax every last aftershock of your orgasm. It doesn’t take long before you feel his release warming your insides. He rests his head in the crook of your neck as he recovers his breath.

When he pulls out, you swipe his spilled seed from your leg and bring it in your mouth, enjoying the salty taste. “Fuck you’re so hot,” Jess breathes out.

You grin. “So this happened. You gonna deny it?” You challenged him as he held you.

“Nope,” he said with a grin. “This happened. You’re mine and I’m yours. No take backs.”

“No take backs,” you echoed as you leaned in for another kiss.

It was perfect. The world could end at that moment and you would not mind at all.

Still you were glad to stay alive. Because then, you could always go another round, and another. So it goes.

✿ Masterlist | ✿ Jess Mariano Masterlist

#jess mariano smut #jess mariano x you #jess mariano x reader #jess mariano fluff #jess mariano imagine #jess mariano #gilmore girls #amongemeraldcloudswrites

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undercoverpena · 10 months

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BAD DAY

francisco morales x f!reader

warnings: angst. sad girl jo hour. comfort!frankie. bad day!reader. work is mean, and frankie is kind. also wrote entirely on my phone, so if there are errors, pls pretend there aren’t.

you: hey, don’t think I’m gonna come over. had a bad day, just need to shower and sleep. sorry! I miss you xx

it’s been a bad day. rough, horrid. almost turbulent. one of those one-thing-after-another kind of days.

the ones where you fire off a text to cancel plans and lean on the steering wheel to level your breaths.

you’re sorry, and you miss him.

two thoughts which revolve around the ripped-open pit in your brain as soon as you’d put them in the text. because you are, you do. hating yourself for being a disappointment, for letting him down—for wasting his time—as you turn the key to spark your car to life as you lift your head.

the drive home is just as torturous. hitting every red light—the radio playing all the songs which grate. doing so until you flick it off, sitting in the thick silence of your own making.

frankie would make it all better. five minutes in his company, and you’re sure you’d want to smile—you’re just unsure if your face could make it happen. he deserves better than seeing you like this, downtrodden and broken.

when you pull onto your drive, the rain is still coming down—hammering its watery fists against the roof of your car. then it begins pounding on you, doing so until your key unlocks the front door, darkness and emptiness greeting your sad mood like a friend.

usually, you’d care that you're leaving puddles behind you. tonight you don’t. teeth chewing on your bottom lip, cutting the skin, making that copper taste flood your thought.

you think of calling him. selfishly listening to his voice as you try to ask about his day, hoping he won’t ask you about yours. it’s why you don’t call, placing your phone on the side, staring at it under the glow from the streetlight through the window.

tomorrow, you promise. tomorrow you’ll call him.

your clothes make it more challenging than needing to as you peel them from your skin. a bond having been created between flesh and cotton that it makes anger swim with tears. almost feeling suffocated, eyes brimming as your shirt unsticks from your back and meets the tiles with a slap.

then you’re under the shower, letting hot water warm your bones as tears (thick and full of stress) careen down your face.

your fingers have pruned for a while before you turn the water off. stepping out, doing a poor job of drying yourself—and then pulling on one of his jumpers.

the one hung on the back of your bathroom door. an accidental thing he’s left behind—a welcomed one in your eyes.

it goes well with your sweats, not that it matters. your bare feet shuffling across the floor to your kitchen, stomach groaning, droplets falling down your neck to your collarbone. it tickles, distracting you.

you blame that for why it takes a second before you smell it. before you hear it.

sizzling. accompanied by the distinct sound of a knife on a chopping board. a sound you know from only three places: your childhood home, late-night cooking shows and francisco morales.

you doubt it could be any of the former, but as you round the corner, you’re thankful it’s him.

all hatless, rolled up sleeves and soft brown eyes. his gaze on you, taking in the sight of you (likely wondering if he can have his jumper back) before the kindest, most gentle smile slowly adorns his face.

it warms you—the last few parts of you that the shower did not.

you almost ask how, why. lips curling around them, yet something clogs in your throat. sticks to the side, latches in and makes it hard to form syllables, never mind words.

deep down, you know the answer to both, anyway: it’s just because.

because this is more than dating.

because you matter—more than he can find words for, and your ears are ready to hear.

because he cares for you—knew you needed him, and this is how he cares.

your bottom lip wobbles at the silent answer. the one your brain fills in from how his brows lift ever so slightly and his eyes pool with more adoration.

more tears threaten to break the dam at the sight.

something he must be able to tell, wiping his hands down his worn jeans, leaving the knife and the half-cut salad as he moves towards you, closer and closer.

you don’t feel him make impact at first, but you smell him. all cedar and musk, a scent you associate with home—with him.

and then you feel him, his chest against your front, his neck against your face as his arms wrap around you, as though he can hold you together with sheer will.

maybe he can.

because it feels okay now, he’s here—he’s safe.

and while you hadn’t wanted to cry, you do. but not because you had a bad day. but because you’re not sure what you’ve done to deserve him.

he’d known something was wrong at lunchtime. when you’d called him, voice all soft—edges of your words brittle.

his gut worry had been confirmed when he read your text.

something niggling, twisting inside of him. so much so, he didn’t think as he grabbed his hat and keys. put his truck into reverse and pulled off the drive.

it crossed his mind he should call. check. not wanting to invade your space, yet—

Frankie has been shut out before, by others. the silence (them wanting something but not asking) cracking down the centre, not sure what to do, even less so when they rounded on him, asking why he didn’t do this and he didn’t do that. I shouldn’t need to ask for you to be there. but it turns out they did.

with you, though, he knew. knew what needed to be done, what he wanted to do. it’s why he pulled up outside your place—spotting your car in the drive. the car lights being cut, the wipers stopping as more rain blurs his sight.

you were home, but the lights weren’t on.

his teeth nipping at his thumb, eyes staring—waiting, wondering. seconds stretch into minutes. the feeling—the one stemmed from a need to make sure you’re okay—tightening in his chest.

fuck it, he thinks, getting out of his truck, moving to yours, spotting how it's unlocked, a dread filling him as he moves up the porch to your door.

earlier, weeks ago, you’d told him where you kept a spare. half-hidden, one of those Amazon-bought fake rocks, and a sea of others so similar around it. he didn’t need to furrow, to search, he knew the one—saved it in his mind when you showed it to him.

for emergencies, you’d said—but your lips had curled into a smirk. like? he’d questioned. and you’d shrugged, faking innocence. you might fancy breakfast with me or something?

it slides into the lock with ease, turning it—greeted by no shout or scream. he steps in, his boots squelching, seeing small puddles that lead a line.

then he hears it—

a shower and your sobs. ones that echo out and hammer against him—pecking at muscle and flesh.

it takes him no time to find your car keys, lock your car before he shuts the door behind himself. his hat removed, boots following before his jacket slides off, and he folds it near your door.

just until you’re out, he tells himself. palms spreading down his thighs, moving to your kitchen, checking you have food, only to find no leftovers, nothing quick.

frankie knows you well enough to know that you don’t cook for yourself much, even when you’ve not had a bad day. his hands moving, rolling up his sleeves as he stares at what you have—an array of choices hurtling through, ones that require spices he can’t be sure you have. so he does the best he can.

frying. chopping. so focused on being quick, tidy—he looks up to find you standing there.

there’s not a version of you he wouldn’t find attentive. you took the breath from his lungs that first night you smiled at him—made his heart double its pace when you talked to him for the entire night.

but you looked worn out, tired, and drained. like you’d had chunks of you taken out all day.

and it hurts, wounds. cuts more than a blade from an attacker or a bullet from an unseen rifle. his hands releasing the knife, hearing it—even if you’ve spoken no words.

why?

because, he wants to say. because you’re having a bad day, and it’s the least I can do.

because I care, and this is how I can show you.

you matter. a lot.

but he doesn’t say any of that, instead hoping the words make it to you from his stare. wiping his palms down his jeans, turning down the cooker as he moves closer, watching, wanting you to have time to push him away if you so wish to.

you don’t.

relief flooding, mixing and concocting with the earlier worry—not settling until he has you close. chin on your head, feeling your breaths along his neck—your hands balled up on his shirt, clinging to him as though he’s all you need to breathe.

frankie gets it.

as he holds you to him, feels you wobble and crumble, he’s pretty sure you’re all he needs to, as well.

an: I made myself cry, if I’m honest—huge thanks to G. I heart you.

#francisco morales x reader #francisco morales #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x you #francisco morales fanfiction #frankie morales triple frontier #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #triple frontier x reader

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deviantly-inspired · 8 months

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For the Sunday poll I ran, where the winning poll was "Dream thinks they're dating".

Rating: Gen (though Dream is implied to be feeling some spicy feelings).

There’s something wrong with Dream.

Hob isn’t sure what it is, but it’s enough to drive a man spare with worry. Dream is acting like a man possessed. Like someone starved. And Hob knows what it is to starve.

At first, he thought it simply Dream seeking to soothe Hob’s own nerves. Dream had only told Hob of why he missed their usual meeting nearly two years after his return. Hob’s not proud of the way he acted that day, but nor could he say he truly regrets it: his tears had been born of love, and Hob has never been able to regret love. He doesn’t quite remember what he’d said, but Hob does remember coming back to himself clinging to Dream like one might a miracle, the pair of them shuddering like leaves in autumn, soothing and being soothed by the other.

Hob’s own anxieties, normally well controlled, spiraled out. Panic attacks he hadn’t had since he’d come home from the front lines wracking his every waking hour. Dream had gone gentle with Hob then, reaching out to help ground him. Hob had extracted a promise from him after one of these attacks, snot on his face and his entire being thrumming with the knowledge that he could have lost the one he'd held so dear for centuries and had never known.

“Care for my old heart won’t you? I’m afraid it can’t quite take the beatings it used to. Please, Dream.”

“I promise,” Dream had said. Open and earnest, like he would upend the universe to keep his word. Hob had feared he'd bind his friend unduly with such an oath; that such a thing was no better than what had been done to him. But Dream had oathed so quickly and sure, eyes deep like the skies above, his voice shaking with some unnamed emotion as he'd held Hob closed and steadied the trembles with a surety that reassured Hob. He'd held Hob until he could stand steady on his own, and then, with more softness than even Hob had known his dear friend capable of treating him with, he'd guided Hob to sit and let Dream take care of him as Hob had never let him before.

And Dream had kept his promise, though Hob wouldn't have blamed him for letting his soothing words remain only that. Visiting more often, sharing more of himself. And Hob shared too, of course. Trading gossip and unhealed hurts like any other pair of friends. The panic attacks slowed, and then stopped, until one day Hob stopped feeling fear when Dream walked away, only anticipation for when he would return. Because Dream always does return. They’re so far removed from where they started that some days Hob can’t convince himself that it’s real. And then Dream will visit and smile and touch and it is real, now.

But it’s the touching that’s part of Hob’s worries now. Among other things. The small, casual touches that had begun have grown an almost desperate, possessive feel to them.

Dream will hold Hob’s hand, tight, like he can’t believe he’s allowed. He’ll crowd into Hob’s space and lean his weight, letting Hob take as much as his human muscle will allow. Like Hob is all that keeps him standing. Just last week on Hob’s old, ratty couch Dream had crawled onto Hob’s lap and burrowed his face to the crook of Hob’s neck like there was sanctuary to be found there. His whole form shook then, like he was trying so hard not to move, though Dream’s words were steady and low as he murmured commentary on the telly to Hob. Not that Hob remembers what was said, what with the way Dream’s lips brushed against his neck with each word. Hob’s never claimed a sainthood, and while he felt horrid for it, the weight and feel of Dream in his arms, even seeking comfort, was enough to have him reciting his chemistry tables.

His words lately have been worrying Hob too. It seems like he’s possessed by a need for Hob to understand how Dream values him. And while it’s nice (which is the strongest word Hob will allow himself to use, lest he damn himself) it worries Hob. Why does Dream need Hob to understand so thoroughly that Dream cares for him?

“Your gift with people is one I admire.”

“Your hands are not something one should scorn. They are the result of centuries of living. You need not an elegant form for them to be good.”

“You’ve come to mean more to me than I thought possible for myself to feel again. I would not lose you.”

And the gifts! Small cakes and indulgences that Hob is chagrined to know Dream’s spoiled him for. Coffees of the finest quality, made just how Hob likes it. Mementos from Dream’s travels to other realms that Dream tells the stories of, personal tales spun for an audience containing only Hob. A copy of one of the first books Hob had ever printed, the original locked behind glass in a museum but the gifted one just as real as the day Hob had printed it and realized he understood the words he was creating, could read them truly and not just need to trust it said what someone else told him it did.

It all feels so much like goodbye that old panic is making itself known. And here he is, baking decadent brownies in his kitchen at 3:15am because he knows Dream has a sweet tooth longer than Hob’s, worrying his poor heart to pieces at the idea of his dearest Dream leaving.

“Are you well, Hob?”

Hob turns with a smile, shoulders loosening. “Of course. What brings you here at this hour?”

Dream’s eyes scan the kitchen, lingering on pans of batter and mixing utensils.

“You were not asleep. And. You are baking brownies.”

“Worried about my brownies? Well, see if I share any this time then!”

“You bake brownies when you are upset.”

Hob sighs, shaking his head. Having it pointed out brings the anxiety back to the forefront. Hob wants desperately to ask Dream directly. To demand Dream stay and admit why he is acting as though he won’t be back every time he comes to visit. And Hob has had centuries to be brave in the face of fear. But this? This is different.

He glances up, gathering himself with a bolstering breath, only for Dream to be right in front of him. Dream raises a hand and cradles Hob’s face with it.

“What is troubling you, my heart? You know I will do all I can to aid you.”

Something in Hob’s brain flickers on. Some realization long coming.

“My heart?” Hob repeats back, slowly. Dream’s thumb drags soothing patterns on his cheek. Dream looks… bashful.

“You gave it to me to care for, did you not?” Dream says. “I vowed that I would. And I have. Haven’t I?”

Hob feels his eyes widen a comical amount.

“That was nearly ten years ago.”

Dream looks troubled. “If… you wish me gone then—“

“You don’t regret it?” Hob interrupts, the words nearly tumbling out in their haste to be heard.

The entirety of Dream softens. “Is that what has you troubled so? Of course not, my heart. Each moment with you is an honor.”

There’s a sound like ringing in Hob’s ears as almost a decade is cast in a new light. A flush rising up his ears and down his neck as the memory of the past few months in particular is re-examined.

“Will you kiss me?” Hob asks.

Dream’s eyes alight, though he tries to temper it. “We need not,” he says, even as he lists ever closer. “I know I’ve hurt you often in the past. If you aren’t—“

“The only thing I am right now is feeling foolish,” Hob interrupts. And then he’s closing the gap before Dream can ask him what he means, pressing his lips to the creature who’s held his heart for 600 years now, and has tended it so gently.

Hob can explain later, over brownies and decadent coffee. Dream will surely laugh. But for now, they’ve ten years of kisses to catch up on.

#sadman sadman give me a dream #dev writes #dreamling

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sebstan2020 · 1 year

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Trespassing

Part 2

Mafia Bucky Barnes x Reader

Whilst getting lost, you accidentally trespass into a mafia’s mansion and find yourself being punished by the leader himself

Warnings: Dominance, Submission, Smut, BDSM, Spanking Fingering, Bondage, NSFW

You were nervous. Clammy hands and a stomach-ache, knees shaking as you waited at the exact spot, he told you to wait at. Why you were waiting, you didn’t know… no that’s a lie, you did know but you didn’t want to admit it. maybe it was fear, maybe it was excitement, maybe it was both but deep down, you knew you were guilty of wanting to know what he had planned for you. James… or Sir, was it? He’d decide later today. After yesterday, you hadn’t stopped thinking about it, about him.

Any normal girl would have run to the police the second he dropped you off, informed them of your temporary capture and torture and would have had him arrested. But you didn’t. You sat at home, replaying everything over and over, admiring the bruised ass you currently had, trying to work out why your body tingled when you thought about him doing it all again. And he wasn’t done with you. Perhaps you were only waiting because you were scared that if you didn’t, he would hunt you down by force or you were waiting because you wanted to know what was in store.

James was a man not to be messed with. It only took him one command to have you waiting for him and he has complete control now. You waited patiently, playing with your fingers, your hair blowing in the soft breeze and pacing around until a soft roar came behind you. You spun around surprised, noticing a sleek black car pulling up. The windows were tinted so you couldn’t see inside, and you weren’t sure if it was for you. a couple seconds passed as you stood there awkwardly until the window rolled down and it was the same man from yesterday who tackled you… what was his name, Shaun… Spencer… Steve!

He glared from the window, dropping his hand out lazily as he shouted.

“Come on!” you scurried over quickly, slipping into the front seat next to him and before you could even get your seatbelt on, he took off, the engine roaring loudly. the car was silent except for the hum, the sickly smell of cigarettes and cologne. You sat awkwardly, hands in your lap looking out the window, debating whether to make conversation with Steve. He seemed like a guy who didn’t like small talk unless he was talking.

“I thought James was picking me up?” you squeaked, and Steve took a glance at you, well more like a glare.

“Well, he sent me” he snapped, and you pulled away, gulping. He certainly was a moody creature. Silence passed and you noticed that you were leaving the city, on the way back to the mansion most likely. Steve lit a cigarette in the car, blowing smoke and not bothering to aim it out the window. You coughed slightly at the horrid taste and saw from the corner of you eye he was smirking, clearly enjoying your pain.

“Sooo, do you work for James” you asked, and he huffed.

“You think I’m his chauffer” he argued.

“No!” you answered immediately.

“No, I just meant like do you work with him” you were stumbling again, nerves flooding back, and Steve chuckled.

“Yeah, I work with him, every boss needs a second” he shrugged.

It was clear this was no ordinary employee, employer relationship. A crazy mansion, expensive cars, nice suits, guns… there was only one word for them… mafia. You didn’t want to ask or even speak the word in front of Steve, but you knew these guys were crooks. Hell, there was probably more of them. And yet somehow James had taken a liking to you. Or was he just a sadistic bastard out for some fun.

Finally, you pulled up to the big gates of the mansion. Steve leaned over and punched in the code, the gates opening automatically and pulled up the drive to the mansion. The car shut off and fell silent with him stepping out into the hot summer’s day, Your legs didn’t seem to move, and you stayed there, staring up at the mansion until his grumpy voice exploded.

“Well come on, fuck’s sake” you raced to get out the car, running around to catch up with him. he definitely didn’t like you. Steve was dressed in a fine suit again, dark, and tight fighting. Your stomach crunched together as you walked closer to the mansion, and you swallowed deeply. You had actually gotten into a stranger’s car and allowed him to take you back to the man that spanked and punished you… not to mention giving you your first orgasm. And it was heaven. But what entails behind the mansion doors was a mystery.

Steve pushed open the great big doors of the mansion and it was already familiar to you. Although you only caught a glimpse of it yesterday as he dragged you to that dungeon, the bright neutral colours and expensive décor was now a memory in your head and now you could actually take it in. These guys must earn a shit ton of money if they were able to afford all this. Funny to think gangsters living in a mansion with chandeliers and glass tables and staircases leading up together. You would think they’d work from an underground blub house.

“Steve you just missed the best goal, score is- whoa, who’s this?” another man walked out into the entrance of the mansion, tall, dark, and also wearing a suit. What is it about the mafia and suits. You nervously looked over, eyes wandering to Steve who huffed, smirking to his friend.

“New girl” he turned back to you and his face went all serious again.

“He’s waiting for you in his office” he grumbled, and you turned to head there but realised you had no idea where his office was.

“Oh…. Um where is tha- “.

“Down the hall door on the right… Jesus” Steve stormed off with the other man and you turned with wide eyes.

“What a jerk” you mumbled. You made your journey to his office, slowly taking your time so you didn’t miss the door. The hallway was long and there were several doors until you came to a big one which must be his office. The butterflies were back, and you swallowed heavily, staring up at the door. Were you really about to enter his office. Were you really about to find out what else he had in store for you after yesterday. He said he wasn’t done with you, did he mean he wasn’t done punishing you, was there going to be more pain involved.

There was a chance to turn back and leave but your hand was already reaching for the knob, and you turned it, entering in. the office was huge, with a large desk, a large table with chairs at one end, cabinets and draws, a drinks table with various bottles of liquor, ash trays with day old cigarettes and most importantly… him. There he was, stood at the desk, head down and his back towards you. Dressed in a suit of all black again… that must be his colour. You slipped inside, making no noise except for the creak of the door and he sighed heavily.

“How many times do I have to say knock on the fuckin- oh” he turned, eyes immediately locked with yours, his mouth slightly turning up into a smirk as he released it was you who walked in and not one of his gang members. That tone of his voice already sent a tingle up your body, and you stood nervously.

“It’s you” he said softly, and you weren’t sure what to reply with.

“Well, aren’t you going to come in?” he raised a brow, and you stepped further in immediately, shoes scuffing on the carpet.

“Shut the door” he ordered gently, and you obeyed.

James took a moment to take you in. His lip curled at the side as he took in your attire. Mom jeans that were rolled at the bottom, white converse, a white t-shirt, and your hair slightly messy. But there was that little sparkle in your eyes, the flush of colour in your cheeks that he craved to see because he knew he made you nervous and that was what he wanted. Your submission to him, your duty to obey and follow his every order. James was used to seeing woman in expensive dresses, suits, skirts. But you, you were the typical image of a nerdy little girl who didn’t care what people thought about, dressing for comfort and not to impress. But he liked this, he liked this new style. The woman he knew were all the same and he was getting bored of them. But you, you were keeping him interested.

“I hope Steve wasn’t too grumpy?” he called as he walked to the drinks table, pouring himself and you a drink of dark whiskey. You weren’t much of a drinker and the thought of swallowing that burning liquid made you already want to be sick.

“Is he always like that?” you squeaked out, folding your hands in front of you and James chuckled, walking back over with the drinks.

“You get used to it” he murmured, offering you a glass.

“Oh… I don’t really drink” you politely declined which you thought might annoy him but instead he gave a soft laugh and set the other glass down.

“Of course, you don’t” he said, staring intently at you as he sipped the liquid with ease, swallowing and licking his lips.

Another tingle shot through your body as you watched the tip of his tongue dart out and seduce you, your thighs heating up and you pressed them tightly to ignore them. James turned and wandered to his desk, setting his drink down while you awkwardly stood some more.

“You know I had a feeling that you might not have shown up?” he said, leaning against the desk and you blinked in surprise.

“What do you mean?” you asked. He was the one who wanted her to come back.

“I thought you weren’t going to come back but here you are” he smiled, and you froze, eyes laid on his dark ones. So, you did have an opportunity to not come. From yesterday he made it sound like if you didn’t there would be further consequences.

“But you told me to come back” you argued, finding some strength inside you and James pushed himself off, strolling over to you.

“I know I did, but I didn’t say you had to. We both know why you’re here… it’s because you want more”.

“No, I didn’t” you tried to defend yourself, but he laughed, throwing his head back.

“Yes, you did, otherwise you wouldn’t have come back. You wouldn’t have showed up where I said to meet, and Steve would have come back alone. You liked every minute of yesterday and you want more… don’t you”.

Fuck, he was right, you did want more. you wanted so much more. you wanted to see what else he had to offer, what else he had to give, to show you, to make you feel. You wanted to be manhandled and spanked but more importantly be touched. You felt sh and guilty, crazy even for enjoying this. anyone else would have run for the hills except you were curious and you did want more. how was it a man you knew nothing about had this effect and hold on you from just one day.

“S-so, what are you- I mean… you said you weren’t done with me” you whispered the last bit like an embarrassed child, curious as to what he had planned. Surely you had paid your punishment for trespassing yesterday. Heck, he spanked you whilst chained up in his dungeon and gave you your first pleasurable experience ever. Your first orgasm.

“That’s right, I’m not done with you” he threw back the last of his whiskey before grabbing your hand and pulling you out the office quickly, pacing down the hallway with you running behind to keep up. Even him holding your hand sent sensations through your body to your aching pussy under the white panties you were wearing. Your heart was racing and breathing fast. James pulled you up some stairs, leading to a high floor with several doors. It seemed like this mansion was never ending. He stopped at one and opened it, pushing you inside and slamming the door.

It was a bedroom. Huge with a large king-sized bed to one side. The carpet was cream and soft to the touch. There were two more doors, one leading to a huge ensuite and the other leading to a big walk-in wardrobe. The décor was simple and neatly placed around the room. The rich scent of his cologne hit you straight as you entered, and it was warm. The warm lights gave a cosy vibe.

Again, you stood nervously, twisting your fingers together as James walked towards you, towering you easily with his height, his intimidating stare making you shrivel down. But his dark eyes on you made your body hot and tingly, pleasure hitting your pussy.

“From now on your mine which means you’ll do what I say, when I say, do I make myself clear” he ordered and you swallowed, trying not to moan as his demanding voice sent pleasure through your body.

“Yes” you nodded, completely under his spell.

“Yes what?” he ordered hard.

“Yes Sir” you remember from yesterday his desire to be called Sir. It was all part of his power, his control, his authority he had over you. You were to submit to him, serve him like a slave. How is it he could just control you like this. he was still practically a stranger, you didn’t even know his last name and yet, you were ready to do anything he wanted to please him. Calling him Sir sent a tingle through his own body, his cock twitching and he grinned.

“Good girl, now get undressed” he ordered, passing you as he walked to the wardrobe. You turned to watch him and began to undress. The last thing you wanted was punishment. Your ass was still bruised and sore from yesterday, your pale skin contrasting against the darkness of the hits and marks. When you slipped out of your panties, James walked back into the bedroom, carrying an array of items, and throwing them on the bed. The pile consisted off a bundle of rope, leather cuffs and a black whip. Just looking at them made you nervous and you didn’t realise James had come over until he shadowed you, his scent reaching your nostrils.

He smiled softly as he looked you up and down, grabbing you and turning you abruptly so he could inspect your bruised ass. You leaned against his arm holding you up as he ran a hand over your tender ass, admiring his marks.

“You have such a beautiful body” he whispered in your ear, and you smiled to yourself.

“Thank you, Sir,” he grinned at your answer and turned you back to face him. Catching you off guard, he kissed you, hard and tenderly, tongue fighting into your mouth and twirling with yours. A surprised moan escaped you as he kissed you, fingers dancing along your body, slowly pushing you back until your knees hit the end of the bed. He pulled away, lips smacking, and you caught your breath, staring up in surprise. James reached behind you, snatching one of the leather cuffs and began to tighten it around your wrist. He did the same on the other, buckling them.

The feel of the leather on your skin made you hot and wet and you didn’t think you’d like this. The feeling of being tied and having nowhere to go, nowhere to run and having to endure whatever James had planned made you so wet that your juices were dripping down your thighs. He did the same to your ankles, wrapping leather cuffs around them tightly, his fingers gently tickling you and you tried not to flinch. When he was finished, he stood back up and grabbed the whip from the bed.

“Now, I want you to get on your knees” he walked to a comfy chair in the corner of the room, sitting down with a deep breath.

“And come over to me”.

Taking a deep breath, you sunk to your knees, getting on all fours like a dog and began to crawl to him, eyes glassy and lips slightly parted. James twiddled the whip between his fingers, eyes watching you, lips curled and his foot tapping. You dragged yourself over to him, looking up as you reached him. being on the floor whilst he was sat in the plush chair sent your stomach twisting and turning and tingles flying all through your body, your pussy getting wetter.

James pushed his foot in front of you, his shoe underneath you.

“Now I want you to start worshipping me” he pointed to the toe of his shoe with the whip, giving it a tap.

“Start here” he ordered, and you nodded.

“Yes Sir” you whispered and leaned your head down, pressing a kiss to the tip of his shoe. It tastes of thick expensive leather, leaving a shiny kiss mark. You pressed another one just a few inches away from that one, nose pressing into his shoe. Out the corner of your eye you noticed the whip insight which made you nervous. Being spanked by his hand was painful enough but by a whip, you didn’t know how that would feel.

“Mmm good girl” he praised, and you couldn’t help smile.

“Thanks” you replied but immediately felt the whip slap your cheek and you flinched. It stung more than when his hand hit your ass and you looked up in surprise.

“Thanks what?” he raised a brow.

“Thank you, Sir,” you corrected.

“Good”.

You continued to worship him, pressing small kisses to his shoe, running your lips across the leather, the black shining under the lights from your wet kisses. James moaned softly, his cock hardening under his tight pants, straining to be released.

“Now start up my leg” he ordered, and you obeyed. Running kissing up his leg, head nuzzling him and growing higher, reaching his knee, and looking up to him for approval to carry on to his thigh. He gave a soft nod, and you moved over his knee, pressing them on the inside of his thigh. He groaned as you reached his crotch, looking up for approval on where to go next.

“Good girl” he smirked. He ran his whip over your naked body, lightly tapping it here and there, earning little jolts from you. he took your chin in his hand, holding you captive in front of him and started tapping the whip harder, smacks echoing in his bedroom. You gasped at the painful sensation, stinging your body like pins and needles. He smacked the whip on your ass, and you jolted forwards, hissing.

“Ahhh” you yelped, your head being pulled up and a soft kiss being placed on your lips from James. He ran his nose over yours, nuzzling you softly before shoving your head down in his lap and returning to whip you, leaving small red blotches on your skin. You gasped and yelped at every hit, but the feeling between your legs was different and a flush of colour appeared on your cheeks again.

“You like this don’t you, being hit and smacked about” James teased, and you groaned as a sharp hit came on your ass.

“Yes Sir” you answered. He chuckled evilly, sucking in a breath.

“Of course, you do” he whispered to himself.

“Now I think it’s time I get something” he said, pulling your head up from his lap. James began to undo his zip, pulling out his hard cock from his pants. His hand snaked around your neck, keeping a firm hold on your head as he guided your head to his cock. He stroked it slowly, pulling up and down as your face was inches from it.

“Have you ever sucked cock before?” he asked, and you shook your head no.

“No Sir” you murmured, and he grinned.

“Good, now stick your tongue out, just give it a little taste to start off” he ordered, and you licked your lips first before ticking your tongue out as you were told. James guided his cock to your tongue, pressing the head of it to your tongue, tapping lightly.

“Just give it a little taste” he repeated, and you slowly sucked on the end. The skin was soft, but it was so big inside your mouth. The salty taste of precum lingered on your tongue and you felt him twitch inside your mouth. He groaned softly, leaning his head back as he guided his cock further inside.

“That’s it, take my cock” he murmured, pushing your head down to fill your mouth up with his hard cock. It was big and you couldn’t help but gag a little, but a few deep breaths kept you relaxed and stopped you from gagging too much. Suddenly, his fingers hooked into your hair, grabbing your head and he started fucking your mouth. Spit flew everywhere, sloppy sounds coming from you. His cock was so big in your mouth and was getting harder by the second.

“That’s it, don’t stop” he pressed your head further down, keeping you there for a moment tingle running through his body as he felt his climax coming. Your mouth was like nothing he had felt before. All the girls he normally fucked or used he had gotten used to their mouths and they no longer gave him any pleasure. But you, you were new and fresh and tight and it’s just what he wanted.

He groaned tightly, gritting his teeth as he felt his cock twitch inside your mouth, warm and wet.

“Fuck” he moaned. You could feel him twitching inside and it didn’t take long for James to reach his climax, shooting his sticky seed inside you, filling you up. It was salty and thick and sticky, and he popped himself out your mouth, lips gathering every last piece of cum on his cock. He smiled in pure bliss, eyes tired and full of pleasure. You caught your breath, licking your lips of the salty semen. You hadn’t tasted cum before and it was a new taste on your tongue.

“What do you say?” he whispered, catching his own breath.

“Thank you, Sir,” you answered, cum messily dripping down your chin and over your lips and he grinned.

“Good girl”.

“I meant what I said when I said you’re mine. You belong to me now, for me to do whatever I like and in return you serve me… and I won’t tell the cops about your little trespassing stunt”.

His, you were his, belonging to him. That sent a tingle through your body and made your stomach flip and heart pound.

“O-okay” you said nervously and he stood, brushing a hand across your cum covered face in a comforting gesture as he walked to the bathroom, leaving you with your mind going crazy.

Part 3

Hey I hope you like this, let me know in the comments what you think

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@pono-pura-vida

@joloho

@winters1917

@openup-yourmind

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#Sebastian Stan #sebby stan #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan fanfiction #Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut

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midnight-pluto · 6 months

Note

First time trying out an event

Fandom: PJO/HOO

Trope: Comfort/Hurt, Angst

AU: Riordanverse

Style: One-shot

How about a Percy Jackson x mortal gn!reader who can see through the mist where Percy hears about a prophecy of how he must lose (death or just leave him) his s/o for a quest, and in trying to find ways on how to stop it, ends up not giving reader any attention or care that they break up and possibly die or just leave.

(sorry if it's too confusing, you can change parts of it to your writing style)

NO ESCAPE — percy j.

TROPES: fluff, angst, comfort/hurt

UNIVERSE: canon-ish

PAIRING(S): percy jackson x gn!reader

WARNING(S): set place after pjo and before hoo, talks of trauma and PTSD and death

A/N: it’s been a while since I’ve written for the pjo fandom so I hope I did ur idea justice

“NO,” PERCY DEADPANS, looking Rachel. “I refuse to believe that this prophecy is about me and Y/N. Absolutely not, the gods have fucked up my life enough - I am not allowing it to happen, again.”

“Percy my prophecy’s haven’t failed to be true,” Rachel replies, feeling remorse for the boy in front of her.

“No, see, remember? Remember the prophecy where you thought it was me who was the hero but it was actually,” Percy swallowed hard to mention his former friend, “Luke.

“Maybe it’ll happen but it still doesn’t mean it applies to me and Y/N.”

“Percy the fates are inescapable. You can’t cheat them, you can’t trick them, you can’t escape them,” Rachel sternly tell before speaking a tired and small, “Sorry.”

“No, it’s well- not okay, but it’s not your fault,” he sighed, burying his head in his hands. “I better find Y/N soon,” he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets and walking out of the cave.

It was supposed to be just a fun, small, 3-day trip to camp due to it being spring break for him. But that turned out to be just another time where he was forced into serving the gods with zero thanks.

By the time Percy was informed of his fate, he didn’t have enough time to cope during his trip and was picked up by his mom, Paul, and you later that day.

“Percy! How was camp?” you smiled at the boy walking towards the three of you, running up to him and giving him a hug.

“It was alright,” he said blankly, continuing his walk to the car.

That made you pause - and not just because of the blank remark.

But because he didn’t hug you back.

You shot a worried look towards his parents automatically knowing something was off.

Paul was driving while Sally was sat in front so it was just you and Percy sitting in the back together. Normally, the car would be full of chatter with Percy rambling about whatever happened at camp while he was there while holding your hand.

This time though, there was no chatter, and there was no holding hands.

“So did anything exciting happen at camp?” Paul tried to break the stiffening silence, “Want to get to ice cream?”

“Nah, I’m not hungry,” Percy replied, eyes fixated out the window seemingly lost in thought.

To you it seemed that while you weren’t sharing loving touches with each other, you both still seemed to be sharing troubled thoughts and minds plagued with worry.

He wasn’t possessed - you’d know - and he was still himself; but not. What could’ve happened in the past three days that could’ve caused him to act like this?

You knew his dreams were ridden with trauma and flashbacks and sometimes a horrid future awaiting but he’d normally speak to you about such things. You could only hope if it were such a case he’d talk to you about it soon.

IT SEEMED THAT soon couldn’t come soon enough. Spring break had already passed, and it’s been a near month and Percy has barely spoken to you throughout it at all.

Percy on the other hand felt at his absolute worst.

Well, that was of course an exaggeration but knowing the fate of the relationship you have is still really terrible.

It wasn’t his intention to distance himself from you, it’s just something he did subconsciously - a desperate attempt to preserve what was already made.

“Percy?” his mother knocked on his door, “I brought you cookies.”

“Thanks, uh, can I talk to you about something?” Percy asked, taking the plate of cookies and placing them on his bedside.

“Yes of course you can,” Sally smiled, and shut the door to sit on the edge of his bed.

“When- when I was at camp I of course had the fortune of being part of a prophecy… again,” Percy inhaled a sharp breath, “And it was about me and Y/N and- Rachel said that I was gonna lose them and I just- I don’t want that.”

“Oh Percy,” she frowned pulling her son into a hug, rubbing his back softly as his tears spilled onto her shirt.

“And I don’t want them to die- they don’t deserve that, not because of me,“ he muttered.

“Percy, listen to me,” Sally gently pushed him away to look at him in his eyes, using her sleeves to wipe away his tears, “What matters isn’t in the future, but now. Regardless if you’re going to lose Y/N, make the best memories to look back on when they’re gone. That’s the meaning of life - to cherish it, and the limited time you have here with everyone you’ve ever met.”

Percy nodded at his mother words, smiling to himself at the thought of spending more time with you. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” she softly tussled his hair, “Now I’m going to set something up between the two of you to go hang out tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” he smiles, wiping away his own tears.

“Make sure to eat those cookies,” Sally reminded before shutting his door with a soft click.

YOU TOOK IN a deep inhale before angering the small café Sally had arranged you and Percy to meet. Prepared to face him with a look of defeat on his face you open the doors, and see him sitting in the back with a cup of hot chocolate warming his hands.

But he didn’t look sad like all the other times you tried to talk to him, he didn’t look dismissive, he looked like himself. He looked like Percy.

Seeing the face you had come to love the past year return didn’t make your heart flutter as it used to however. One of the only reminders of your true intentions behind accepting the invitation.

Walking over to the table, you take the seat across him and give him a small smile that you could muster.

“You’re not gonna order anything?” Percy asked, head tilted towards the chalkboard’s beautifully written on displaying the menu.

“No, I don’t feel like it,” you shook your head, “Um, Percy I just wanted to talk to you and I’m sorry.”

Percy could feel his heart drop the moment you said those words. His head kept on making up words and phrases of what you were going to say next - anything but what he knew you were going to say.

“I just don’t think we’re going to work out,” you spoke in a soft and gentle tone, “I don’t regret the time spent with you, but it would be better if we no longer saw each other. Romantically, at least.”

It took every once ounce of Percy’s body to spill out tears from the corners of his eyes but he managed to choke out, “I understand.”

“Thank you, for everything Percy,” you hung your head low, beating yourself up for hurting the boy in front of you who had already been through so much, “I hope to see you around.”

And just like that, you exit the café as Percy’s eyes trail your figure from the window until you disappeared around the block. It doesn’t take long for the nearest fire hydrant to burst open, water spewing out when his eyes couldn’t.

A/N: did I manage to make you guys feel something? also, my 200 follower event is currently ongoing so please feel free to request!!

#rin’s 200 follower event [🧸]#rin’s shots 🤎#pjo asker anon #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo x you #pjo x reader #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x gn reader #angst #pjo angst #comfort/hurt

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theblue6ook · 3 months

Text

The Young Years PT 3

Summary: This is a prequel to "Shit Interview" in the "Out of My League" series. Read about Bruce and Y/N in their troubled teens. What about their past makes them work so well together? You'll find out. (Hint: they've both been through major struggles.)

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!reader

a/n: Death and blood. Also, Bruce is all the drama. [Eventual slow burn with Bruce]

Caught [B(19) Y/N(17)]

First, it was selling illegal car parts. Then, it was modifying cars illegally. Then, it was racing. Y/N didn't have to worry about money anymore, but she still kept appearances up at Dorthie’s Flowers with Carrie; she didn’t want to look suspicious. The house was paid off, the utilities were paid, and she started saving money for her brothers' school funds. She was set, and even better, she was a winner.

Ronnie taught her how to properly drive at 13. The lot for the mechanic shop was pretty big, and honestly, there were barely any cops in this part of town. The only rule was don’t go past the narrows. Once she hit 14, she was starting to get good. After modifying cars, she’d head out and watch the races, watch the different moves people made with their cars, recreate them on cars they were working on, and if they got fucked up, she’d fix them before anyone knew.

By 15, she was in races. By 16, she was coming in second. By 17, she was dominating. The money she had saved was insane, but there was one problem. The races were moving out of the narrows, and the cops were cracking down, particularly Don Colley and his partner Jim Gordon. All she had to do was keep her head down. She should have stopped. She had money saved, but the rush was so addicting, and the money was so rewarding. In her eyes, as long as no one knew who she was, what was the damage?

Getting caught. Getting caught was the damage.

The last race she was in was over by Gotham Harbor. She was in first, per usual, when the police swarmed. She was on her way out, swearing and huffing, when one of the drivers, trying to make a break for it, spun out and crashed. She didn’t even think. She stopped the car and ran out to help, but it was too late. It was a horrid scene. The airbags didn’t go off, and his car had smashed him into the steering wheel. His chest was caved in, and there was so much blood everywhere. It smelled like gasoline and death. There was no mistaking it, the driver that passed was David Colley, the Comminsioner’s son, and oh did he blame Y/N. She was caught on the scene and the only one he had to blame. Boy, did he fight hard when she went to court, lucky for her, Jim Gordan saw right through it, and so did the judge…

“You were a part of the Martha Wayne Foundation?”

“Yes, your honor.”

“You say you were doing this to provide a good home for your brothers after your mother left? Help your father pay the bills?”

“Yes, your honor.” Y/N felt the sweat on her temple, and her heart was beating so quickly. She felt fucked. She felt like she ruined her life, but the judge only hummed and thought quietly. There was a pregnant pause before he spoke, and the entire courtroom was on the edge of their seats.

“Despite having the wrong motivation, I think you have a good head on your shoulders. You’re young,” he continued, “I don’t want you to throw your life away in jail. So, here’s what I’m going to do. Not only will you return the money won to the court, but you will also complete six months of community service. Pay two fines, each $1000. One for the drag racing conviction and the other for the illegal gambling. Is that clear?”

It didn’t go over well with Don Colley. He ended up stepping down from the position of commissioner as Jim Gordon stepped up…it didn’t go well with her father either.

“What are you doing with your life?!” he covered his face with his hands. “You know what, it might have been easier if you were in jail and not wasting my money, my time-”

“Your money?!” Y/N interrupted. “Who’s been running your business? Who’s been providing? You haven’t even stepped out of the house in years!”

“Will you shut up! Do you not understand you are ruining your life-”

“Oh, so now you want to be a parent?” Y/N was up in arms. After years of picking up after him, providing, and putting food on the table, this is what she gets?

"You know what, go fuck yourself. You don't want me as your parent? You can get the FUCK out of my house!"

“The house I paid for? The house I clean and cook in and drag your ass into when it’s snowing. That house!?” she shouted until her throat hurt. Maybe she shouldn't have, she knew she fucked up, but she was so tired. So tired of taking care of other people. Every sentence she punctuated with a step closer to him until she was up in his face.

"You're unstable. You're not good for me. You’re not good for the boys. You need to leave," he looked into her eyes.

"I may be unstable, but you've always been a shit father." That seemed to be the last straw.

“GET OUT!” he grabbed her by the hair and shoved her out the screen door. He had never in her 17 years ever put his hands on her. He had always been silently grateful. Silently watching as she keeps the house running. He had never shoved her the way he did now.

“What the fuck-” she said, stumbling down to the ground.

“You don’t live here anymore. Tell Carrie to pick up your things.” He went to step inside but paused, looking over his shoulder. "You can't live here until you get your act together, and I can't live with you until I get my act together."

Her father stepped inside. She heard her brothers through the door asking what was happening and where she was. Y/N sat out on the concrete steps and said nothing. Was there anything to say? Slowly, she stood and made her way down the block.

Bruce wasn’t sure what to consider his position here. Was he a prisoner? Would they let him leave when the time came? At least they were training him. They’ve been training him for the past two years.

It wasn’t hard for him to leave Gotham. When he was fifteen, he received his diploma. He had skipped enough grades to get it and had enough credits through online courses. That was the deal with Alfred. You can go and travel, but you’re going to be officially educated. He traveled with Alfred for some time. Moving to different places, training with different people, learning different languages. Then, things went sideways. He was recognized. He was robbed. He could defend himself at this point, but not from twenty people. That’s ridiculous. In the end, he ended up in a Bhutanese Prison. This is where he met Ras Al Ghul. A strange man who had broken him out of prison and asked him what his plans were. Bruce didn’t really have a choice, so he told him. Now he was here, but honestly, where was he? He had no clue.

He had learned so much. He would continue to learn so much. He would solve his parents' murder, and he would solve Gotham. That was the plan. If he can survive here, he can survive anywhere.

He looked up at the ceiling of his bunk. He was bunked with many other soldiers and assassins; he wasn’t sure who they were. He had thought about Alfred. What he might be doing? What he did do after Bruce had been taken? The door to his bunk had opened, and there was the strange man who had found him.

“It is time,” he said. Bruce stood and followed him out to the training grounds. He sparred with different soldiers, at some points, several at a time. Another trainee was sparring as well. Eventually, they were tasked with sparring with each other. Bruce moved flawlessly, and his master smiled. He fought easily and used his opponent's faults against him until he had him on the ground.

“That’s good,” he grinned. “Now kill him.”

Bruce’s blood went cold. He looked over at the man, startled. “I can’t - I can’t kill him. He did nothing wrong. We were just training.”

“Training is to prepare you for real-life situations. You may have to kill someone, so it’s best to do it now. Kill him.”

Bruce held his breath, and his sword rose to strike. Training. That’s what it was. If I want to clean up Gotham, there has to be sacrifice. I have to do this-

You really think this is what your father would have wanted? You going to prison for the rest of your life? To kill someone?

The sword came down hard and swiftly, puncturing the ground. His master turned toward him, angry. He grabbed Bruce by the shoulder, shoving him to the ground as he dug his own sword into the struggling trainee on the ground. “Is this what you’re so afraid of? Death. These are the necessary sacrifices we must make for the good of the world.”

Red stained the snow around them, and the smell of blood lingered in the air.

“Well, that’s not the way I’m going to do it,” he stood stubbornly.

“How do you expect order? How do you expect to deal with the chaos?”

“Fear.”

#bruce wayne x reader #batfam #batfamily #batmom #batman #young!bruce #bruce wayne

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desperate-gay · 7 months

Note

Can you write a kyra cc sickfic about Kyra catching a stomach bug and reader + auswnt look after her, she’s at first stubborn to admit she’s ill but when she maybe throws up after eating or smth she admits defeat?

Just a request, don’t HAVE to do it. Xx

Stomach Bug

Kyra Cooney-Cross x fem!reader

You should have made her stay home. You knew she wasn’t feeling good from the middle of the night when she was kicking and pulling up the blankets constantly from her temperature rising and falling. Then, when you woke up, you noticed how pale her usual tan skin was. She insisted that she was just fine even if you didn’t believe her, but she was stubborn as always and wanted to head to practice.

After a few minutes of bickering back and forth, you eventually gave up and got ready to head to training together. When you arrived, many of your teammates picked up on how sick Kyra looked and asked if she should head back home. Once again she continued to assure that she was okay and began to warm up.

So here you are now, practicing with several mini-games while keeping a close eye across the field at your girlfriend. You notice her stumbling a little bit and pausing to take deep breaths. Tony blows the whistle and shouts it's time for sprints, worrying you that Kyra will feel even worse if she keeps up her I’m fine front.

After 3 or 4 sprints, you see the girl run off the pitch and to the nearest garbage. You jog your way over to her and rub her back as she continues to empty her stomach into the bin.

“Hey, coach-“ You begin but Tony nods his head, knowing that both of you need to leave.

“Feel better, Kyra,” Tony says as he waves you both off.

“Yeah feel better, Cooney!”

“We love you!”

“Take care!”

Kyra smiles while nodding at the team as you guide her back into the locker room with your hand on her back. Before leaving, she rinses out her mouth at the best of her ability to get the horrid taste out while you gather up each other’s stuff.

“I can carry my stuff, y’know.” Your girlfriend says, noticing you carrying both your and hers bag on your shoulders.

“I am aware, but you’re sick and I can take care of you.”

She smiles when you peck her cheek and continues to walk to the car. Her smile soon drops at the sight of you holding the keys and heading to the driver's side.

“What are you doing?”

You turn around and look at her with a confused expression, seeing her standing still in the middle of the lot. “What do you mean what am I doing? I’m driving us home.” The small frown on her face shows you exactly what is wrong. “Kyra, you’re sick! You can live with me driving you once in your lifetime.” You laugh at her nonsense and nod your head at the car, waving for her to get in.

With a huff, she finally sits in the passenger seat with a frown still plastered on her face. “Don’t get used to this.”

“I won’t, baby. Do you need a bag or anything, or do you think you’ll be fine the rest of the way?”

“I’m okay, I think it was just a one-time thing. I just need to rest in bed for some time.”

You nod your head in understanding and start to drive home. The whole time Kyra stares at the buildings passing, pressing her head against the cold glass of the window to soothe her burning skin.

Once you pull up to your destination, you keep your kit bags in the car and quickly take the brunette into the house.

“Go lay down, pick a movie, and I’ll make some soup for you, okay?” Kyra doesn’t put up much of a fight, exhausted and slightly queasy, she heads into your shared bedroom and rips off her top so she remains in her sports bra and shorts.

Luckily for the both of you, she doesn’t get sick again, but she becomes such a baby when even slightly sick.

“Baby! Where are you? I’m supposed to have my cuddles!” She shouts into the air, not even bothering to look for you.

You shake your head with a small laugh and finish up what you’re doing. She hears a door open and sees you step out of the bathroom. “I had to pee, I told you that before I got up, dummy.”

You move the blankets and get comfortable on the bed before Kyra latches onto you, nuzzling her face into your neck.

“You’re supposed to love me, not call me a dummy.” She grumbles against your skin.

“You’re such a baby when sick, but I love you anyway, even when you’re insufferable.” She lightly smacks your leg, making you giggle and kiss her warm cheek.

“I love you too.”

#kyra cooney cross x reader #kyra cooney cross #matildas #tillies #australia #woso x reader #woso fic #woso imagine #woso #lgbtq

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yoonivy · 7 days

Text

gold rush; part 4.

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

genre. romantic comedy — inspired by 10 things i hate about you and also another movie (can you guess which one? :) ) , college/university au, smut, enemies to lovers (kinda??? their relationship is complicated to explain LOL)

In all the 8 years you’ve known Aemond Targaryen, he has not spoken more than 8 words to you. In total. So why is he starting now?

warnings. smut!! dirty talk, cunnilingus, fingering.

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07

---

With exam season in the horizon, it has you and Aemond staying at the university’s library until the most ungodly hours for the past week.

Tonight, the two of you end up leaving campus a little bit past midnight, luckily narrowly missing the beginning of the snowstorm on the drive back to your place. By the time you get inside your empty apartment, the flurry of snow outside the windows completely obstructs the view and the strong winds are loud as they whistle and shake the glass. It’s horrid.

“That’s it! I’m deleting the weather app off my phone!” You declare, throwing your hands up. You turn to your boyfriend, looking incredulous. “How did it not predict a freaking snowstorm?!”

Aemond shrugs. “I have no idea… even the news this morning said it was coming tomorrow afternoon.”

He is by your front door, his long black wool coat on and leather gloves hands clasped together behind his back. Before you can ask him why he is still standing there, he gives you a warm smile as he says, “I should get going then. Before it gets worse.”

Your mouth drops in offense, hips swinging out as you place your hand on it. “Do you really think I’m going to let you drive home when there’s a literal Apocalypse happening ?” Your head shakes defiantly, taking a few steps towards Aemond. “No! you’re staying over tonight!”

Aemond hesitates, body turning towards the door then back at you. “Are you sure? I can still make it back home if I leave now…” he glances around, clearing his throat, “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable since it’s just us here.”

This leaves you slightly stunned.

Is this why he hasn’t stayed over before? For your comfort? There’s so many nights when he stayed at your place way past midnight but still went back home to sleep even though he was dead tired and for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why. Until now.

Always such a gentleman.

Gods, if he only knew all the thoughts you have been having about him.

You huff out with a grin and a playful roll of your eyes, walking to him. When you reach him, you grab his arm and pull him away from the door.

“Yes, I’m sure…” you say as you open the hallway closet, gesturing for him to give you his coat while he first peels off his gloves. You take his coat when he shrugs it off, and you hang it in the closet along with yours.

“But thank you —” You glance back over your shoulder, just realizing how close Aemond is hovering behind you. His warmth and the intoxicating scent of his amber and saffron cologne sends a shiver down your spine.

When you shut the closet door, you turn towards him just as Aemond takes a step towards you, his chest nearly brushing against yours. You let out a soft gasp, staggering back, your back and palms pressing against the door behind you. Peering up at him through your lashes, you breathe out, voice light and airy, “— for thinking about me.”

Illuminated under the hallway light, he is so pretty, looking down at you with open fondness which has your breath hitching.

You could barely think.

“You’re sweet,” you tell him with a strained smile.

But you know the look in your eyes is not as sweet or innocent. It’s something far hungrier.

You wet your lips as you think about him and how you want him — have wanted him for the past few weeks. Visions of him pressing you against the wall and his mouth on your neck, his always perfectly in place hair a mess from your fingers carding through it, his toned chest slick with sweat, his roughened voice whispering sweet nothings in your ear…

Unbeknownst to you, he follows the slow movement of your tongue before his darkened gaze drifts up to your eyes again.

Stop, you scold yourself as you shake away the dirty thoughts. You quickly duck around him to create some space between the two of you, saying something about making tea as an excuse.

Maybe the reason Aemond hasn’t been staying over is not only for your comfort but for his own as well. Here he was thinking about you with care and you hadn’t even thought about how he feels about taking the next step.

Sure the two of you made out heavily plenty of times before (and you felt him hard beneath you each time) but that doesn’t mean that he without a doubt wants to have sex with you. Guys have boundaries too!

“What did the kettle do to you?”

You glance away from the electric kettle to look at Aemond who had leaned his back coolly onto the counter just beside where you’re standing, his arms crossing against his chest. You must have looked confused because he reaches out to press his thumb gently between your brows. At the touch, you ease the tension there you hadn’t noticed. Oh, you had been glaring while deep in thought.

But then you look over at Aemond again and there’s that teasing smirk on his lips that has you tingling between your thighs. It’s absurdly unfair how just one look from him has you going absolutely wild for him.

“It wasn’t boiling fast enough!” You exclaim with a laugh (perhaps a little too loud and definitely sounding quite nervous) and you abruptly stop to focus on making the tea (and to stop thinking about his mouth on yours and everywhere else on your body).

In your mug, you make your tea how you like it. In his, you stir in one teaspoon of honey and a little bit of cream — just like how he likes it.

He murmurs his thank you with a sweet kiss on your lips and an even sweeter smile meant just for you.

After that, the two of you settle at the kitchen table to wind down.

Half an hour passed by and the tea had gone cold. Aemond was talking about something he had learned from a podcast and you were only half listening, staring at his hands. He has such pretty hands…

You want them all over you. On your hips, your thighs, your ass, around your neck, in between…

You just want him so bad… but you promise that you will keep your hands to yourself.

“What was that?”

Eyes widening comically, you sputter out dumbly, “Huh?”

Did you say that out loud?!

Yeah, you’re pretty sure you did.

But luckily, you’re used to making a fool out of yourself and so you are able to brush it off.

“I didn’t say anything,” you say, pretty cool and casually if you do say so yourself. Standing up calmly, you collect your mugs, shrugging at him, “Must have been the winds outside?”

“Yeah…” Aemond lifts a brow, sounding unsure but also looking amused. “Must have been…”

Damn it. Facing away from his scrutiny, you rinse off the dishes while your expression squeezes with embarrassment. He totally heard what you said.

Thankfully Aemond doesn’t push it any further and you are able to wash the dishes without any more embarrassment.

While you finish cleaning up, you hear Aemond yawning from where he had sat down on the couch.

“Sleepy?” You ask when you join him, his arm wrapping around you as you tuck both your feet up and press your whole body onto his side.

He hums, nodding. His smile soft and tired. It is such a lovely sight and it makes you lean into him, pressing your lips on his. This man is stupidly irresistible and you’ve never felt like this for anyone ever before. You’re starting to just accept it.

What’s the harm?

A broken heart in the future, maybe? But for some inexplicable reason, you trust him not to break your heart.

Gods, if younger you heard you now… Trusting a man with your heart? And Aemond Targaryen on top of that?!

She’d have your head cause clearly you aren’t using it!

But you’re happy, and you think she’ll be forgiving for that fact alone. That’s all you and her ever wanted — to be happy.

And Aemond definitely makes you happy.

Smiling to yourself, you kiss him one last time before you stand up, stretching and yawning. “We should go to bed then.”

Aemond nods, but he stays sitting on the couch even though you’ve already started to walk towards your bedroom. You stop to look back at him, “Are you going to sit there all night or…?”

Aemond sits up straighter, stiff and alert.

“I…” he takes a hard swallow, “ I thought I’d be sleeping on the couch.”

Your mouth parts in an audible oh… for a couple long seconds.

“My bed is big enough for the both of us,” you tell him. After a beat, heat starts to rise up to your cheeks. Did you sound too desperate? You’re not sure but to make sure you didn’t, you quickly add, “But if you want to stay on the —“

“No, no—!” Aemond springs up, his foot snagging into the rug causing him to stumble slightly. But he is fast to recover, walking to you, “Your bed is fine!”

It’s not often you see Aemond flustered but it’s a sight you welcome. It’s cute. You’d tease him if you weren’t also as flustered as he is.

“Do you wanna use the bathroom first or should I?” You ask him when you reach your room, grabbing some sleep clothes from the drawer.

“You go ahead,” Aemond offers, sitting on the edge of your bed.

“Okay,” you nod. “I’ll be right back then… make yourself comfortable!”

Aemond nods right back, then awkwardly pats the bedding a bit and squirms on his spot, looking satisfied right after. It bubbles a laugh out of you. A small smile is shared between the two of you before you head to the bathroom.

You take a quick shower, opting to use your nicest smelling body wash and also shaved a bit — for no reason at all. You brush your teeth before leaving out the extra toothbrush you got from your last dentist visit and a clean towel for Aemond to use.

“Your turn!” You let Aemond know with a big grin as soon as you enter your room. On the top of your dresser, you grab your moisturizer and you begin to apply it in front of the mirror while you tell him, “I left out an extra toothbrush and towel for you in the bathroom and you can use whatever you want!”

He doesn’t answer right away, so you look away from your reflection while dabbing on eye cream and find him just sitting there, lost in gazing at you. Again with that look that has butterflies fluttering like crazy in your stomach.

You say his name softly and that was enough to snap him out of his trance. He chuckles to himself and stands up, “Sorry, I’ll get going now.”

He walks towards the door but just when he is about to step out, he stops, grabs a hand onto the door frame

as he turns to look back at you.

“What?” You question, lips spreading in a flustered grin.

Aemond shakes his head. “It’s nothing… I just…” trailing off, he glances at you from underneath his pretty long lashes, smile so genuine when he says, “You’re breathtaking… I just needed to tell you.”

And then he taps the door with his palm and leaves just like that, leaving you dumbfounded and flushed, mouth gaping open.

“Thank you,” you murmur out loud to the empty room, your mind finally getting caught up. Your cheeks are hot when you press your hands on it, round and tight from smiling too much.

It has you on autopilot, just thinking about Aemond while you do the rest of your night routine. You turn off the lights in your room, leaving only the lamp on your bedside table to cast a soft golden glow just beside your bed, then you slip under the covers to get comfortable and think about him some more.

How did you get so lucky to call Aemond your boyfriend?

Not only is he so incredibly intelligent, he is also so passionate about so many different things. You’re always learning something new when you are with him. And it may seem that he is a serious type A kind of person, but he can be so funny in his own way. On top of all that, he is pretty good looking…

Fine! He is gorgeous — sometimes it makes you so mad how handsome he is! Like his features don't compute in your head? How can someone just look like that?!

…and he thinks you’re breathtaking?

You giggle to yourself, tucking your chin just above the edge of the comforter, feet kicking underneath.

In the middle of your daydreaming (and almost falling asleep), Aemond walks back in your room, scrubbing his long and damp hair with his towel to dry and… is still wearing the clothes he was wearing all day?!

You shoot up, awoken by the realization that you stupidly forgot to get Aemond something to wear to sleep.

“Oh shit! Sorry, Aemond!” You say, pushing back the blanket away from your body. “I have a few shirts that might fit you — or I’m sure Jon wouldn’t mind if you borrow his clothes —“

Aemond shakes his head. “It’s fine. I was actually gonna ask you if you’re okay with me sleeping with just my boxers. I run pretty hot because of my blood—“ even in the dimness of the room, Aemond notice your sudden look of alarm, and quickly adds, “but if you’re not alright with it, then—“

“No! You’re good! It’s good!” You say, a little too eagerly. Then trying to seem more nonchalant (though not really working from the way your voice wavers) you tell him, “If you’re, like, more comfortable that way then yeah that’s cool or whatever…”

“Cool,” he repeats after you, grinning bashfully as he glances down to where he is wringing his hands into the towel he is holding then back up into your eyes.

There is a playful light on his violet eye that he keeps on you, and you can’t bring yourself to look away as he steps further into the room, coolly tossing his wet towel in the hamper by the door. You tuck yourself back under the blanket, trying to get comfortable again but your whole body is vibrating from anticipation, too keyed up.

As your eyes adjust to the low light and wanders around your very familiar room, you try not to stare. But when Aemond starts to tug at the back of his t-shirt to pull it off in that strange way guys do, and the hem lifts to show off that glorious v-line of his and then that lean stomach and softly defined abs that is prettily illuminated by the golden glow of the lamp — it was over for you. It’s absolutely magnetic, the way he can always pull your attention towards him. You’re not even one of those people who really care about the nakedness of hot guys (Do you know how many times Robb and Jon walk around shirtless all the time during the summer? The answer is all the freaking time!) but of course it’s different when it’s Aemond.

If you had half a mind right now, you’d remind yourself to get a hold of yourself and stop acting like a complete lustsick fool. Like it’s so embarrassing how you bite down your plush bottom lip while you watch as Aemond’s lithe fingers make their way to the button of his fitted black pants.

Of course none of that is at the forefront of your mind when he begins to pull his pants down, letting you have an eyeful of the prominent bulge in the front of his black boxer briefs, causing you to take a hard swallow. You’re not even sure if he is hard or if that’s just how big he is while flaccid. What do people say? That tall and skinny guys usually have huge d—

It’s Aemond clearing his throat that pulls you away from finishing your thought, quickly meeting his wicked gaze as you burn up from being caught shamelessly (well technically now, shamefully ) ogling. There’s a smirk playing on his lips, fully knowing what has you so flustered. So he makes a show of it, dragging his pants down so steadily. His milky thighs are slender yet nicely defined and so smooth looking; all the while, you feel a throbbing between your own thighs—

Hiding swiftly under the blanket, you muffle a frustrated groan.

It earns you a chuckle out of him. The bastard. He clearly enjoys watching you squirm over him.

Then the bed dips and you feel something press over the blanket where your hip is, making your whole body shiver. A second later, right by your covered ear, you hear a sultry murmur of, “You’re cute.”

Pulling the blanket back, you whip to face him with the most defiant (and in Aemond’s opinion — the most adorable) glare that you could muster. There’s still that smirk on his face, like a cat who got the cream.

You sit up, about to give him a piece of your mind. Though before you can say anything, he surprises you with a quick kiss on your slightly parted lips. He chuckles at your stunned expression, caressing your cheek for a long second. His hand is soft and warm against your face, and his gaze is too, searching your own with a crease between his brows. In this darkened room, the color of his eye looks like a deep indigo, as deep as the ocean, so inviting that they seem to beckon you closer, to dive into them.

So you lean towards him, your mouth a breadths away from Aemond’s, his voice is low and light as he murmurs, “Is it alright if I say… I don’t want you to keep your hands off of me?”

Once again, he takes you by surprise. As blunt and to the point Aemond is, it was not often an affectionate bluntness. You like seeing this new side of him. It makes you realize how much closer the two of you are getting. That he is more comfortable around you now — he jokes around, he tells you the thoughts running around his mind, and he is opening up to you more and more every single day.

Aemond has really become one of your best friends, someone you are not afraid and don’t mind giving your all to. That has you gleeful, has your heart racing with delight at the revelation.

As soon as you shake your head gently as an answer, Aemond’s smile gets a little bit wider. Then, he is closing the space between the two of you once again.

Melting. You feel like you are melting into him. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

With his hand sliding from your face to cradle the back of your head, he pulls you into a deeper kiss, his tongue slipping between the seam of your lips. You moan, letting him in as your mouth parts, your head tilting to the side for more.

Without parting from each other, you move to perch up on his lap, your legs bracketing around his waist. One of his hands grips your thigh, while the other slides under your shirt. You shiver in delight at the feeling of his warm hand on your skin, leaving goosebumps in its trail, until he reaches the underside of your breast. Aemond smirks against your lips, teasing, as his thumb brushes around your nipple. Mewling his name, you could not help but grind down on him, the little bud hardening from his touch.

Breaking away from your heated kiss, Aemond softly asks and gestures if he could take off your shirt. You allow him to, lifting up your arms to help him with the task. Once he pulls it off in one fluid motion, Aemond's hazy gaze wanders all over you in wonderment as he murmurs, a little breathless, “You’re breathtaking…”

You did not feel embarrassed at all from his staring. If anything, you feel more confident by how beautiful he is making you feel.

Caressing his face as you look into his eye, you bite down your bottom lip, trying to suppress a giddy giggle. With your thumb running across his prominent cheek bone, you remind him full of mirth, “You’ve already told me that tonight, silly. ”

Aemond laughs lightly when you playfully flick at his nose. “And I’ll keep telling you over and over again, because it’s true.”

Then his eager mouth and hands are all over you again. Aemond cannot get enough of you. And by the way your hips are moving against him — picking up in speed and every grind down more overzealous than the last — you cannot get enough of him too.

Aemond groans – a low throaty sound that is like music in your ears – when your hands find their way in his hair, pulling a bit harder than you had intended to. The clash of your mouths becomes more desperate, and Aemond slips up, accidently pressing his lips just slightly under the far corner of your mouth. But the mistake doesn’t deter Aemond at all. His mouth finds a path along your jaw and down your neck, marking you up with every suck and bite of his teeth on your tender skin.

Eyes closing, you arch your back into him, your mind clouding up deliriously. Aemond starts to lay you down gently when his lips move to press wet open-mouthed kisses on your chest. As your head hits the pillow, that’s when his lips close around the nipple that he had not been playing with earlier, like he remembered it had been neglected. His tongue swirls, and your mouth falls open in a pathetic little whine. Immediately, your hand comes up in a fist for you to bite down on a knuckle to stop the embarrassing sounds from freely coming out, every mewl and moan muffled now.

That stops Aemond, pulling off with a wet pop. A rather displeased Aemond is the first thing you see when you take a chance to glance down. His hand closes around your wrist gently, pulling it away from your face. “Baby, don’t do that. I want to hear you.”

Whimpering, you nod in understanding. “Please, Aemond. Need more…”

Your boyfriend hums, satisfied.

Aemond bends down over you again, though this time he leaves your chest alone, choosing instead to lavish his tongue between your sternum then down, down, down…

You lift your hips up to allow him to pull off your sleep shorts.

“So pretty…” Aemond murmurs reverently, lightly fingering the tiny pink bow at the front of your tight cotton panties. His knuckles then brush over where it’s truly damp, heat radiating from your core. He grins wolfishly after leaving soft kisses on your inner thighs that has your cunt throbbing with desire, glancing up to watch your face while you squirm. “Cute.”

“Shut u—” your indignant mutter gets cut off by your own surprised squeak, your body jerking at the sensation of a wet tongue spreading over the cloth where the seam of your pussy is.

The view between your thighs is one you will never, ever forget. It will be seared into your memories forever. Because how could you ever forget the sight of the Aemond Targaryen worshiping you as if the altar is your hips, and your cunt is his only salvation.

Aemond tries to press down your hip to keep you from moving, but you are too pent up and desperate, your fingers once again treading through his hair, gripping tight as you ride his face. Seeking your pleasure with every swipe of his unhurried tongue. So instead, he snakes his arm under your thigh to spread you out further apart for him to comfortably lay between your legs.

Soon, you begin to feel your peak building up, getting closer and closer to coming undone. You don’t even know how Aemond is doing this. It usually takes you forever to come, and penetration was almost always necessary. But here he was, just mouthing at your pussy from over your underwear and you are electrified with ecstasy.

Sure enough, you come like that. An overwhelming feeling washing over you that has you chanting Aemond’s name with every languid swipe of his tongue and nudge of his gorgeous nose against your small bundle of nerves.

Aemond’s hips thrust against the bed at the sound of your pretty moans and the honeyed taste of you on his tongue. Now, even more than ever, he is determined to give you every pleasure in the world.

“Another one,” Aemond commands breathily before you even come down from your high, placing a kiss over your clit. He doesn’t even bother to take your underwear off, pushing it to the side to slide his fingers inside you to spread you open while he slowly starts to eat you out again like a man still starved.

“Taste so divine,” Aemond can’t help but comment, dragging his wet tongue from the bottom of your slit all the way up to your clit.

“Ae— please — just like that!” The words tight and needy in your throat, getting close again.

“Anything you want, love,” Aemond promises, focusing now on driving his two digits deeper and deeper inside your tight heat. “Just keep making those pretty noises for me.”

You do exactly that. Every flick of his wrist drags out the most pathetic little noises out of you.

Then he curls his fingers just right and presses into that particular spot inside while sucking on your clit. You suck in a stuttering gasp as your whole body shudders, your back arching off the bed as you flood his mouth with another sweet release. Aemond moans along with you, like your pleasure is also his.

Aemond laps through your slick folds, humming in delight while he does so. He cannot get enough. It drags your orgasm out until you are a shivering mess and trying to push him away from oversensitivity.

He relents, pulling away from your core to drop butterfly kisses along your legs while he pulls your panties off.

Once the climax begins to subside, you reach out for your boyfriend, needing him close. After a few affectionate kisses against your ankle and knee, Aemond crawls up, capturing your mouth with his own while your arms wrap around his shoulders in an amorous embrace.

Aemond kisses you like he has something to prove. It is all consuming. Like you are his, and he won’t let you forget it.

You don’t think you ever will.

Every fiery and passionate clash of his mouth over yours has you craving for more. When eventually—

“There’s condoms— in — mmm — drawer,” you let him know even though his mouth is barely lifting off yours, his teeth biting at your already swollen lip.

Aemond hums, parting away so you can roll over towards the drawer in question. You sit up once you have the small, unopened package in your hands.

(In your head, you thank Meera. She was the one who threw the 10-pack large sized box of condoms in your basket a week ago during your grocery date together. With a wink and a snicker she had whispered, just in case. You had rolled your eyes back then but now… Maybe the myth she had told while high off her mind about her family’s gift of foresight wasn’t such a myth after all.)

Glancing back over your shoulder, you catch sight of Aemond pulling down his underwear, getting an eyeful of what your boyfriend is packing.

By the Gods… He is big . Pretty too — milky pink head, mouthwatering veins running along his long shaft, curved just right.

You want him so bad.

Turning away, you quickly attempt to open the condom package, an unsatiated need now driving your every move. Perhaps your nails are not sharp enough, or maybe it’s because your hands are shaking too much, but the cardboard is stubborn and won’t rip open.

You feel Aemond come up behind you, the heat of his chest on your back, watching your struggle. After another try with no luck, you confess with a bashful laugh, “You’re making me nervous.”

“Am I really? Can’t even open a box because of me? That’s adorable ,” Aemond teases, which earns him a glare with no heat from you. He chuckles, an endeared smile tilting his lips. A tender kiss is placed on your shoulder before his large and graceful hands encompassing your own.

“Here. Let me,” he murmurs softly, taking over the task. Since Aemond is perfect and can do anything and everything, he opens the box easily, ripping out a packet without much effort.

You huff and roll your eyes playfully, and he just laughs, pulling at your waist to roll you over again and under him. He kisses you for a few long seconds before he sits up.

Breath held in anticipation, you gaze up at your pretty boyfriend, ripping the condom with his teeth. Without putting it on yet, he pumps his hard cock a couple times — spreading the pre leaking from the tip along the shaft — sweat glistening his heaving chest while he looks down at you. “Are you sure?”

There is an aching desire in you, amplified by his lascivious stare. Nodding, you use your elbow to lift yourself up, your hands wrapping over his, stroking his cock together.

“I’m sure,” you tell him, fluttering your lashes prettily up at him. Aemond groans out your name as you lean forward to kiss the vein on the underside of his length.

After that, neither of you can wait another second longer. Together, you put the condom on Aemond and he wastes no time gently laying you down again, getting into a comfortable position between your open legs while tenderly kissing all over your face and down your neck, his fingers slipping into your folds to spread you open for him again. He then takes a hold of his cock, angling his hips just right to slip himself inside you.

Aemond exhales out your name, sounding a lot like a satisfied sigh. His eye is squeezed shut, face twisted in delicious pleasure. “I can’t believe— You, fuck — you feel so amazing.”

Every inch of him has you wincing slightly. It wasn’t a bad pain, but you just aren’t used to taking anything of his size. Aemond notices this, and slows down to a halt, only half way in.

“Does it hurt?” He asks, concerned. “Should I stop?”

Shaking your head, you reach up to caress his cheek. “No, don’t stop. Just… Just slow down a bit. I’m just not used to taking anything so… big.”

Aemond’s eyebrow rising in surprise, chest puffing out while looking proud and smug. You refrain from rolling your eyes.

“Don’t let that go to your head. It’s big enough already.”

“Which one?” He jokes, cheeky and so quick with it that you scowl (yet still endeared). He ducks down, chuckling into your neck.

“You can be so insufferable, sometimes,” you let him know, smiling into his hair.

“I know,” he agrees, moving his head to peer down at you. “And you’re lovely. Always.”

There is no teasing left in his tone. It was a sincere confession, heartfelt and true.

Then he captures your mouth with a toe curling kiss. Your heart is swelling, your tummy full of butterflies.

The little intermission allowed you to adjust to his size, your walls stretching to accommodate his girth, and after letting him know, Aemond starts to move again.

The way he moves his hips is intoxicating. Every drag of his cock has you mewling — voice high and breathless. Looking down at where the two of you meet, Aemond whispers filthy praises for you.

Your little pussy takes me so well. You sound so sweet when you’re full of my cock.

He presses your thighs against your chest, allowing him to grind into you nice and deep. When he bottoms out, you swear you can taste heaven.

“Do you like this?” Aemond coos, loving the way your nails bite lines down his back, and his own digs bruisingly into your supple thighs. “Does it feel good when I fuck you like this?”

You could not even answer. The sensation all of the sudden becomes too overwhelming.

With tears in your eyes, you come again with a sweet cry of his name, your hand twisting at the sheets beneath you and the other in his hair as your body jerks with multiple euphoric rushes. Aemond picks up the pace, chasing his own high as your pussy pulses deliciously around him. You juices coating him liberally, dripping down his shaft with every thrust. Your cunt is so inviting — so tight and hot and unlike anything he has ever felt before.

“You’re so good…” Aemond murmurs against the shell of your ear hoarsely. “Such a good girl for me. Gonna make me—“

Aemond comes with a long, broken and throaty groan; burying himself into the deepest part of you as he shoots his load into the condom. His hips twitch, grinding the head of his cock deep inside you as he expels the last of his energy into his climax.

Exhausted, he falls into you, his mouth going over yours again and again and again. He smiles when your arms wrap around him, putting your all into the passionate kiss.

Aemond never wants to be apart from you. He wants to stay there, cock buried in your soft warmth, forever.

He can’t help it. Being with you feels just right.

This is where he is meant to be.

A blinding light is what wakes Aemond up the next morning.

He grunt in annoyance, hiding his face into the pillow— until he remembers, the sweet smell of you igniting his senses.

The sun is out in full force after the snowstorm, casting its rays in through the window, and yet when he looks down to where you are still soundly asleep in his arms, your pretty face smushed against his chest — you are the one that is lighting up the room and bringing him warmth.

Aemond has never seen anything as bright and as beautifully brilliant as you.

Golden , Aemond thinks, nuzzling his face into your hair, his sleepy smile pressing against the crown of your head.

You’re golden. The only precious thing he will ever want and ever need.

He is sure of that now. No amount of money in the world could ever replace you.

His golden girl.

It is the last thought Aemond has before his eyelid flutters close and he slowly falls back into peaceful sleep, his arms pulling you closer to him. So close that not a soul could tell where Aemond ends and where you begin.

a.t. 💗 🎵 treacherous (taylor’s version) · taylor swift

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It was supposed to be a good night. A fun night.

The bar where your friends decided to go was a favorite of your group; they played good music, the nacho plate was huge and tasty, and every shot with the dirty names was only a dollar each.

The dollar shots being the most important since you were also meeting Aemond’s best friend Alys Rivers for the first time. She’s great, you think, and she can keep up with your rowdy friends more than Aemond can. Maybe that’s why she’s hitting it off with Meera so well.

But somewhere along the laughter and the million shots and the grinding on your best girl friends (a little bit on Alys too), your dumb ass decides to check your phone.

That’s when you read through the latest email in your inbox and your whole night comes crashing down.

You attempt to brush it off, put off the emotions threatening to bubble up until the morning and just enjoy the evening out with your friends.

You laugh and smile through the hurt and disappointment, blinking away the tears whenever they cloud your vision. It works for a while — until Aemond pulls you to the side, caging you against the wall with concern written on his face.

“Are you alright? I’ve noticed you’ve been sort of out of it for a while…”

You nod tightly, forcing a smile. “Yeah! I’m good!”

Aemond searches your face, frowning deeper as he seems to find some discrepancy in what you said and the way your lips tremble.

You blow out a raspberry, laughing as you drawl out, “ Babe , I’m fine … Honestly… !”

But when your name comes out his mouth in such a serious tone, you couldn’t hold it in anymore. Hanging your head, you tell him with a small and wavering voice, “I lost the poetry contest… they just sent an email congratulating the winner.”

This wasn’t the first time you didn’t win a writing/poetry competition so it might just be the alcohol kicking in, because you are more emotional and upset than any other losses before. Or maybe you just really, really wanted this — you did put your heart and soul in the piece and it’s one you are truly proud of so the fact that it lost…

When you feel the tears coming, you quickly hide your face into Aemond’s chest. You feel him wrap his arms around you, pulling you close as he murmurs sweet and comforting words into your ear. While you keep crying, you also keep apologizing miserably to him for various reasons — staining his shirt with your makeup and snot and tears, ruining his night with your emotional breakdown, for accidentally ordering that really expensive dish on your date last week… Literally, apologize for everything and anything over and over again.

Aemond just hushes you, rubbing his hand up and down your back. He manages to pull you into a secluded empty table away from prying eyes and flags down a waitress to get you water. You chug it down so fast while sobbing when you get it, as if to replenish all the tears you’ve cried.

The sight of you like this absolutely devastates Aemond. His heart is breaking for you.

“What do you want to do?” Aemond asks, his voice as light as a feather, hand holding yours. “Do you want to stay or do you want me to take you home?”

Though you’re not crying anymore, you know you probably look like an absolute mess. Mascara running, swollen and red eyes, snotty nose, all the works. So after a slight hiccupy breath, you tell him, “ ‘wanna go home…”

“Of course,” Aemond presses a kiss against your forehead. “Anything you want.”

Before the two of you leave, you ask him to tell your friends that you’re leaving and tell them you’re just feeling a bit tired. You don’t want to inconvenience them and spoil their night out by making them worry about you. He does it quickly, not wanting to be away from you for too long, and in a matter of minutes, you and Aemond are on your way home in the back of a taxi.

The taxi ride home was quiet save for the low volume of the jazz music that the taxi driver is playing and your occasional sniffling. You find comfort in playing with the rings on Aemond’s fingers, trying to just not think about the results of the competition. It works — until it doesn’t. Now instead of feeling sad about losing, you’ve taken the next step to just blaming yourself and how everything you write is terrible.

By the time you stumble into your apartment, you are just feeling a bit resigned and a whole lot pessimistic.

“Why did I even go back to school for this? I can’t even win a dumb magazine competition…” you grumble, throwing your winter coat on the closest available surface which happened to be the kitchen table. Aemond grabs it, hanging both your coat and his properly at a clothes hook on the wall beside the front door. As he unwraps his gray cashmere scarf from around his neck, he watches you drag your feet to the couch, crashing face first into a cushion, muffling a frustrated scream into it.

Aemond sits down next to you, and when your face comes away from the cushion, there’s a shiteating grin on your face that takes him back.

“Are you good…?” He asks cautiously, not knowing why you look fine all of the sudden.

You shrug, laughing as you speak with your words slurring, “Kinda realized I'll be in debt forever because of this degree… it’s all good!”

A good boyfriend would have said something like ‘oh no babe, don’t think that way’ but in Aemond’s defense he is also sort of drunk and so what slips out of his mouth before his brain could process it is, “Isn’t my father paying for your tuition?”

It’s all his mother could talk about when you and him started college, how it doesn’t make sense that Viserys is paying the tuition of someone else’s kid. Aemond can recall himself agreeing with his mother and stepfather talking down on you, a bit bitter himself because the conditions of getting his father to pay for his schooling was pretty tough to achieve. He was made to believe that you just got it just cause — but knowing you now, he knows you probably worked as hard as he did. Not only that, the two of you might be equals when it comes to grades so his father must have held you at the same stipulations to getting tuition money as he did for Aemond and his siblings.

Instead of getting mad or embarrassed at his question, you just tell him plainly, “Yeah, he is! But I’m still going to pay him back when I can!”

Confusion sets on Aemond’s face because… why? Not once has he thought about paying back his father for anything… maybe you were under a different clause.

“Did he ask you to pay him back?”

You shake your head. “No, but… I still feel bad for taking it! I’m already saving up the money to give back to him… look!”

Sloppily, you thrust your phone up for him to see, almost hitting his face. You apologize with a giggle and a whoops, sorry! but his curious eye is on your phone, absentmindedly saying it's alright.

On the screen is your mobile banking app with all your chequing and savings accounts showing. Although you point out the savings account named Pay Back Viserys Savings which already had a little over 5k in it, he also can’t stop himself from scanning over the other accounts. There is an emergency savings account at 3k, a vacation account at 2k, and your chequing is at $341. Doing very quick math, Aemond can honestly say that he has 50 times more funds in just his chequing than all your accounts combined . You are definitely living paycheck to paycheck, but the fact that you have more money in your savings account to pay back his father than all your other accounts means you don’t know… His whole family thinks you know but it’s obvious to Aemond now that you don’t know .

A conflicted and uneasy feeling settles in the pit of his stomach — even more so when you scoot closer to him.

Shouldn’t he just come out with it now? Just tell you everything — the stupid plan, the expectation of him to see it through — and he’ll apologize over and over again like you did to him earlier this evening but this actually warrants an apology and more. He’ll be willing to grovel at your feet to forgive him.

But Aemond decides to let the guilt eat him away for one more night. For your sake, he tells himself. You’ve already been through it enough today, you don’t need this on top of everything else.

Though to be honest, he is just being selfish.

“You should rest,” he tells you gently, his hand on the back of your head and his mouth on your temple. “And it might not mean much but… I thought your poem was better than all the others.”

“Okay…” You mumble sleepily, nuzzling your face into his chest and humming sweetly. “And that means a lot. You are like the most opinionated person I know… a connoisseur of taste… all indubitably and hmmm yes yes indeed , Mr. Posh pants.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Of course it is…!” you tell him as eagerly as you could in your groggy state, yawning cutely afterwards.

It makes him laugh. Gods, you are always making him laugh. He doesn’t remember the last time he would spend the day always laughing and smiling with anyone else. It’s only when he is with you.

Selfish. Selfish. Selfish.

Some time passes, and Aemond is convinced you must have fallen asleep. But all of the sudden, you lift your head to peer up at him with the most adorable look on your face. You look so… confuddled.

“Aemond, have you…” you trail off, pressing your lips together, your hand coming up to tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear that seemed to have distracted you.

“Have I…?” He repeats to prompt you to continue, frowning with a tilt of his head while he mirrors you, also tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, fingers lingering on your cheek.

“ Have you… ” you drawl out again slowly, clearly still wasted by the way your eyes squint at him. “… ever dated a popstar?”

He balks at the question, sweating. “Uh… um… why?”

Who told you? His father? Aegon?

He doesn’t know why it was such a big deal, it really wasn’t anything serious for him—

“Really?” You hum contemplatively. “Because I’m pretty sure Taylor Swift wrote Landin’ Boy about you —“ you smirk and poke at the center of his chest,“—you little cutie pie.”

Aemond lets out a sigh, relaxing once more, then huffs out a chuckle.

“You’re ridiculous,” he scoffs, but he can’t help but smile. You have him rumbling from deep down his throat, akin to the purring of a satisfied cat, when you keep lightly scratching on his chest with your fingernails absentmindedly, singing the words to the song you had mentioned.

How do you manage to make him feel all light and warm inside despite his inner turmoil?

Then it dawns on him…

He is in love with you.

There is no doubt about it. He doesn’t even question it or deny it, he has been falling for a while — and that makes all this more complicated.

Just let me have one more night with her , he prays to the Sevens, because I know once I tell her, it will be over for good.

So he pulls you in towards his body closer, craving your affection as his lips meet yours.

“Sleep,” he murmurs.

With a hum and your nose nudging his, you take his advice, your eyes finally closing as you relax into him.

One more night , he promises, just one more night…

Then he lets his eyelid flutter shut as well, allowing himself this one last night with you.

a.t. 💗 🎵 nonsense · luvie

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author's note.

thank you for reading!! as always, let me know what you think, i love getting comments from you guys :') it keeps me inspired and keeps me writing more for you!

also, i hc luvie (myrcella baratheon) as sabrina carpenter so luvie's entire discrography is based on sabrina's music lol!

and, question...? what do you think the lyrics of 'landin' boy' (london boy) will be like?

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #hotd imagine #hotd smut #aemond #aemond targaryen #hotd

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