#I’m not posting the green set :P

[urhoneycombwitch]

imagine being loved by me

🍯 honey flavour: your love has stood the test of time, thus far, but a party fit for a rockstar brings up some bitter emotions.

🐝 the bees: rockstar!Eddie x jealous!Reader

wc: 8k

cw: drugs and alcohol consumption, mentions of weight gain (eddie’s, in a positive manner), R has panic/anxiety attack, jealousy (talked about and resolved tho), softdom!Reader, softdom!Eddie, oral (E and R receiving), R has breasts + a V and referred to with she/her pronouns, P in V sex, cumming inside w/out protection

foreword: timeline is wobbly and may not align perfectly w canon bc I’m bad at math so shhhh suspend ur disbelief. based on this anon thank you v much anon <3

___

It’s the coldest January Hawkins has seen in ages. Snow banks sit high on the roadsides, air thick with snowflakes, three-AM fog brought in courtesy of the bitter wind chill. 

Under the yellow floodlight of a nearby streetlamp, your boyfriend is sucking down the last of a joint while you stamp your feet against the gravel parking lot.

“C’mon, Eddie,” you whine, crossing the arms of your fleeced puffer jacket, bouncing on your heels to keep the blood flowing. “My toes are gonna get frostbite.”

“A touch dramatic,” Eddie replies, unbothered. The cherry of the joint between his lips burns orange, casting a warm glow over Eddie’s cheekbones, the twinkle of snowflakes caught in his bangs. “I told you to go in without me, princess. Warmer in there.”

“Without you? As if.” You pull the pity card, and it works, ‘cuz it always does- that boy has got to learn how to say no to you, one of these days. 

Not today, though, because Eddie is tamping out the ember on the sole of his boot and crunching up the snowy path to sling an arm around your neck.

“Grub time,” he says against your hair, pressing his cold lips to the side of your forehead as you both make your way into Benny’s Burgers.

The heated air is a welcome relief, and save for a couple of old-timers at a side table, you and Eddie are the only customers in the place. 

Benny greets you both from where he’s flipping patties on the kitchen grill, waving a spatula at the corner booth- “All yours, kiddos. Want the usual?”

You and Eddie call out affirmatives as you sink into opposing seats, unwrapping yourselves from all your winter gear as you go.

“God bless Benny Hammond for expanding his night hours,” you say, piling your green scarf on the tabletop. “This is a good tradition for us, y’know. Post-band practice smoking and coffee- very rock and roll.”

“I concur.” Eddie tosses his knit hat at you playfully. “You, my lady, have the most rock ‘n roll soul I ever did see.”

As Benny approaches with two mugs of steaming coffee, you muse aloud, “Not sure if the amount of sugar you’re about to dump in your coffee is very metal, per se...”

“Y’hear that, Benny?” Eddie grabs a fistful of sugar packets and shakes them indignantly. “My girl’s trying to keep me on the straight and narrow. How’s a rockstar s’posed to live in these conditions?”

“Lord knows,” Benny says, sardonic, setting the mugs down and turning back to the kitchen.

Eddie winces as his hands wrap around the heat of the mug, and you notice right away. “Your fingers splitting again? I have that salve that you used last time, but it’s back at the trailer.”

He puts his hand face-up onto the table, and you slip yours into his, the deep fingertip grooves from guitar strings rough against your soft palm.

“I’ll live. Plus, it’s kind of metal, right?” Eddie runs a calloused thumb across the back of your hand.

You squeeze back, give him a wink. “Very metal.”

Eddie’s been working himself to the bone lately. Trying to stay in school and not drop out is a feat in itself, but compounded with the band practices that have only ramped up in length recently, it’s a lot to balance.

He hasn’t complained at all, of course. It’s not really in his nature.

In the past few weeks, however, he’s been imbued with this near-manic energy, a renewed sense of purpose. In between your own fitful sleeps you often wake in the early hours of the morning to find Eddie hunched over his desk, pen flying across his notebook as he reworks an old song or outlines a new one. Not that you weren’t proud of him before, but seeing him apply this newfound passion to his music has been a huge source of joy for you. 

And, if you’re being really honest, also a major turn on. I mean, the boy’s got swagger like no other, and you’re so glad he’s finally utilizing it on stage. Even if that stage is in the middle of a piece of shit dive bar. Still counts, in your book.

Benny drops off baskets of hot fries, a burger for Eddie, and a BLT for you. Methodic and familiar, you offload half your fries to Eddie’s basket as he slides his burger towards you for the first bite. 

After a few minutes of peaceful eating, Eddie balls up a napkin in his fist and raps the table with his knuckles. “So, uh. Kind of have some news.”

You slot the ketchup bottle back into its metal holder and look up with raised brows. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He looks suddenly nervous, knee knocking into the underside of the table as he bounces his leg compulsively. “You remember Paige Warner? Graduated in ‘81, brother is a baseball jock?”

When you nod, Eddie blows out a breath- his unease is kind of setting you on edge. 

“What about Paige Warner?” you prompt.

“She moved out to L.A. for a job and she’s working this scouting gig for some bigshot record,” he continues, absently pulling the thin napkin in his hands into pieces, staring vacantly at the mess. “And she wants Corroded Coffin to record and send out a demo to the label.”

As the news sinks in, your jaw drops. “Holy shit. What?”

“Yeah.” Eddie’s fidgeting with the paper scraps now, still not making eye contact with you. “She wants us to start recording next week. I haven’t told anyone else, yet, I wanted to make sure you were the first-”

You interrupt him with an excited little squeal (drawing glares from the old guys across the diner) and shove up from your side of the table to throw your arms around Eddie.

“Holy shit,” you repeat, laughing as Eddie pulls you into his lap- “Eddie, that’s amazing!”

“You think so?” he asks, your enthusiasm allowing his own to creep in; He slides his hands to your denim-clad hips, his self-professed favorite stress toy (well, tied for favorite with your thighs). 

“How come you were so nervous to tell me?” You ask him, gently, tucking his dark hair behind his ears so you can see his face better. “Were you thinking I’d react differently?”

He looks up at you wide-eyed, shakes his head- “No, no, I wasn’t worried about you reacting a certain way. I just… I’m just worried about what this’ll mean. You know. For us.”

“Us?” You echo, encouraging him to continue. 

Eddie squeezes at your hips, presses the crown of his head against your collarbone like he’s mustering up the courage to speak. “Yeah, us. I know L.A. isn’t your dream- shit, I don’t even know if it’s mine- but you didn’t sign up to go on the road like this. You’ve got college to consider, and-”

“So I’ll take a gap year,” you interrupt, putting a hand to his cheek to make him look at you again, and when he starts to protest, you talk over him. “No, Eddie, I’m serious. I don’t know what the hell I wanna do with my life yet anyways. Following my hot rockstar boyfriend to a new town sounds like a pretty good deal to me.”

He shakes his head again, and you can feel his dimples spring to life under your hand as he teases, “Gonna be my little groupie?”

“And more,” you confirm, giving him a kiss (chaste, so as not to invoke any more ire from the grumpy other customers) and sliding off his lap to return to your own seat. “I’ll be your assistant extraordinaire, if you want. Or bodyguard. Make sure none of the other groupie chicks get too close.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, fondly. “You’re the only groupie I need, sweetheart.”

Settling back into your respective seats, you both work on the last basket of fries while chatting genially about the future. Eddie mentions getting an apartment in Los Angeles, so there’s less of a commute, which branches the conversation into the logistics of a cross-country move, and then on to more important topics such as the alleged coolness of west-coast parties. 

“Who’s your celebrity hall pass?” you ask, out of pure interest, dipping a fry into the well of ketchup. “Like, say you’re rubbing elbows at some famous muckety-muck’s party and someone catches your eye. Who’re you taking back to the motel for a slutty roll in the hay?”

Eddie snickers at your phrasing, then says, “I mean, preferably, my super hot girlfriend-”

You throw a fry at his head. “That’s such a cop-out answer. In this hypothetical, Joan Jett is in red leather petting up on you and you’re saying you wouldn’t take her up on a one-night stand?”

A laugh bursts out of Eddie, a real, proper one where he throws his head back. “Are you actively encouraging me to hook up with some bimbo at a random party? Without you? Unlikely scenario on all fronts, babe.”

This earns him another launched fry, and he squawks, trying to shake it out of its place caught in his hair as you reprimand him- “Joan Jett is not some bimbo, watch your mouth! And what I’m saying is, if you didn’t at least try to score us a threesome with her, I’d be pissed.”

“Okay, baby,” Eddie soothes you a tad derisively, likely a ploy to avoid more flying food- “if I meet Joan Jett I will do my level best to get her in our bed. Scout’s honor.”

He holds up two fingers and wiggles them obscenely, grinning when you laugh again. “All right, Nosey McGee. Who are you taking home from the party?”

You hum, eyes flicking up to the ceiling, contemplating the options. “I guess I could be talked into a night with Kirk Hammett.”

Eddie’s turn to launch a fry. “You slut,” he chuckles, “That was a way quicker answer than mine.”

“Okay, fine. If I meet Kirk Hammett, I promise to at least make a bid for threesome. Deal?” You extend your pinkie across the table.

Eddie loops his little finger into yours. “Deal.”

____

The memory of that cozy diner evening years ago fades as you shake yourself to the present.

You aren’t two highschool kids with lofty dreams, anymore- after Eddie’s recovery from all that Upside Down bullshit in ‘86, Corroded Coffin took off. Even though Paige didn’t end up coming through with any deals, Eddie and his bandmates fought like hell to get signed- and by the end of that year, a small record label in the heart of downtown Chicago had taken the bait.

Corroded Coffin turned out to be the best thing to ever happen to Arken Records; by the spring of ‘87, business was booming thanks to the help of Corroded’s debut album, The Banished Ones- their new single was a chart-topper for over 6 weeks. (Smash Hit magazine’s latest review was titled “Fresh Sound Rises from Dirt Nowhere.” You have the paper clipping saved in your ever-growing folder with “rockstar boyfriend!!!” handwritten in black ink.) 

And in a few weeks, the band will set off on their first real tour, starting in Chicago and ending with a bang in an already sold-out show in Hawkins- Dustin, Steve, and the rest of the gang with VIP front-row seats, of course. 

As much as you and Eddie have grown and matured in the past few years, the core of you both has remained the same. Eddie is still just as dorky, goofy, and caring as he always has been, while you’ve kept that tenacious spirit and quick wit that he fell in love with back in the early days of dating. Even now, with his popularity rising and his rockstar dreams on their way to coming true, Eddie constantly brings his focus back to you. 

Pillow talks in cushy hotel beds, late night ramblings over post-show whiskeys, holding hands in the back of yet another cab- when he could be talking about the thousands of exciting things happening in his own life, Eddie is asking about you.

Did you talk to Robin last night, sweetheart? How’s ‘ol Birdie doin? What do you wanna wear to that dinner thingy tomorrow… could go naked for all I care. In fact you probably should because of feminism and all that. Did you sleep okay last night? Let me look at ya. You thinkin’ any more about those applications you got?

You’d taken a gap year to support Eddie, which you were happy to do, but with ‘87 drawing to a close, he’s been more insistent lately that you take a look at all your college options. Honestly, you’ve been enjoying the adventures that come with touring way too much to consider going back to the rigidity of school. 

And plus, having the love of your life nearly bleed out in your arms in a parallel dimension has totally realigned your priorities. If folks thought you and Eddie were attached at the hip before… 

He’ll likely argue you into academia, eventually. He always rolls high on persuasion. Damn him.

For now, you’ve got a party to attend. 

Arken Records is playing host, on the last night of 1987- in celebration of Corroded Coffin’s success and to kick off the New Year’s festivities, they’ve rented out a house in east Chicago for the event. 

Well, house isn’t the right word. More like mansion. Vaulted ceilings tall as a church’s, huge windows overlooking the Chicago river, a grand chandelier with flickering candles in nearly every room. 

When you and Eddie had toured the place a few days previous, he’d made a joking complaint low in your ear about not having the time to fuck you on every surface. Your laugh had reverberated off the sweeping mahogany floorboards, mostly at the expense of Eddie’s poor publicist who’d happened to hear his comment. (Melanie had really been putting in overtime lately; you made a mental note to send her a very nice flower arrangement and vouchers for a spa trip.)

The party was in full swing by the time you and Eddie arrived, fashionably late, and he had been folded into the throng of other musicians and partygoers against his will pretty much immediately- which you’d expected. The last hour, he’s been throwing you piteous looks from his spot across the room, where he hasn’t had the chance to move an inch with the amount of people keeping the conversation going. You’ve slipped to his side a few times, refreshing his drink, letting him curl an arm around your waist as you perch on his knee, only half-focused on whatever story some producer is saying as Eddie’s hand trails up your thigh. 

You’re back on the nearest wall again, sipping champagne, taking it all in. There are probably over a hundred people crammed into this banquet room, bass thumping through the floorboards, tables shoved to the outer corners making space for a makeshift dance space. 

The air is hazy with smoke from various cigarettes and joints; as the night has progressed, the smell of freshly-applied cologne has been replaced with heady sweat as the dance floor calls more people to writhe and grind in groups and partners. Eddie is still stuck in the lone pod of living room chairs, surrounded by a rapt audience of people crammed in to hear him better over the blaring music.

He looks damn good tonight, in a cut-off black tee and his favorite ripped jeans, leather jacket hung on the chair behind him. Silver catches the light from every angle- on the chains at his hips, around his neck, glinting off his rings as he gestures animatedly mid-story. He’d asked you to do his eyeliner at the hotel earlier, and although it’s smudged and blurred at the edges now he’s still pulling it off. Tiny silver stars, hand-drawn with your eyeshadow brush, twinkle across his cheeks like freckles.

Eddie wanted to match with you, whined until you added a belt made of gold-plated stars to your outfit. You went simple, the gold to his silver- belt cinching your short black satin slip dress, delicate brass rings and bracelets around your fingers and bare forearms. The one piece of silver you are wearing is a chain around your neck, Eddie’s guitar pick nestled snug between your breasts. 

You still resolutely refuse to wear heels, even after Eddie’s stylist cajoled you into practicing on stilettos for a disastrous media training session last month- tonight you’re in a chic pair of Mary Janes with the slightest suggestion of a heel. Compromise. 

There’s a big laugh from the crowd in the corner again as Eddie knocks a hand into Gareth’s chest for emphasis, nearly knocking the younger boy off his seat. You stare unabashedly at Eddie’s forearms, biceps on full display; he’s filled out a bit since leaving home, his usually lean frame boasting a bit more weight and bulk now that he’s got consistent access to well-rounded meals. 

He’s looking healthy, down right glowy. You’re thinking about that smattered trail of dark hair that slides down the crest of his stomach, now with extra padding enough to sink your teeth into. As if he knows, Eddie catches your eye from across the room and winks, cheekily. 

You shiver and unconsciously press your thighs together, hiding your grin with another swallow of champagne.

The alcohol turns a bit sour going down, though, as a crimped-haired blonde girl worms her way to Eddie’s side, laughing a little too loudly at the joke he just told. When she places a manicured hand on one of his shoulders, the thin stem of your glass nearly snaps in your grip.

The thing about rockstars is they have crazy sex appeal. The thing about your rockstar is he’s only interested in you, something that has been proved many times over.

So why is tonight hitting you so hard? Why do you feel nauseous the longer Eddie lets some random woman’s hand stay on his bare skin when you know he’s going home with you, and only you?

Maybe it’s the alcohol, or the overcrowded room, or the memories of Benny’s diner still lingering like a bruise in your mind. Hard to pinpoint exactly. All you know is that jealousy is gnawing like a thing raw and seeking in the pit of your stomach, and if you don’t get out of this stuffy room soon you’re gonna do something tabloid-worthy, like cry in the middle of a New Year’s Eve party.

By the grace of some god you make it across the dance floor and into a side bathroom unscathed, the pulsing sound of the party blissfully dimming as you shut the door behind you. Your mind whirls as you grip the gilded sink for stability, blinking hard at the tears beginning to form. 

You love having a boyfriend who’s larger than life. You love that he’s taking up space and getting to use that charm that was nurtured on the DM throne back in Hawkins. You’re so proud of him, you really are. 

You’re just starting to hate the way other people’s surface-level love of him makes you feel.

Because that’s what it is, right? Just surface-level, you reason with yourself- the level of intimacy that you and Eddie have is unmatched, something that the newly-formed masses of admirers won’t ever get to experience.

Christ, can jealousy give you hives? You grab a handful of paper towels and soak them in cold tap water, then press the damp bundle to your chest, breath stuttering.

You’ve never been the jealous type, or the overbearing type- it’s a new feeling, and maybe that’s why it feels so scary. The more you try to tamp it down, the more it rears its ugly head, making you, in turn, feel embarrassed for having such a strong reaction in the first place.

It’s a vicious cycle that’s only seeming to gain speed as you realize you haven’t yet managed a full breath since coming to your hiding spot. Your lungs are pinched and burning as you drop the soggy paper into the sink, leaning into the lip of the porcelain to steady yourself.

There’s a knock on the door, and you choke out “Just a minute”, not sure if the person on the other side can even hear you over the music when Eddie’s voice leaks through.

“Baby? That you in there?”

Against your better judgment, you open the door, and he crams in the small space, locking it again behind himself.

“There you are, I saw you leave and thought you were getting a drink or something but then you didn’t come back and- are you okay?”

He interrupts his own stream of consciousness when he notices the state you’re in. You give him a trembly smile, waving a hand dismissively.

“Yeah, all good. I’ll come back with you, just needed to pee.”

Eddie is not so easily thrown off the scent. He murmurs your name, sliding his hand into yours, looking at you with a wounded puppy gaze- fuck, you can’t have a breakdown. Not here, not on New Year’s in some knockoff-Playboy’s bathroom.

And certainly not in front of Eddie, who’s asking you to tell him what’s wrong, what happened, with an increasingly pleading tone that’s really, really not helping your whole Don’t Cry agenda. 

Hoping your voice doesn’t break, you clear your throat and pull your hand from his grasp. “Nothing happened, okay? I just had too much to drink, feeling overly sentimental or something. I’m okay.”

You think your white lie was convincing enough when Eddie reaches back for the door handle, that maybe he’ll rejoin the party and leave you to have a good cry, but after poking his head out the doorway briefly he grabs onto your wrist, tugging you to his side and hissing “Quick!”

And then you’re both making a break for it down the mostly-empty hallway, Eddie pulling you smoothly past a wall of expensive-looking oil paintings before going through a set of double doors that lead to the outside.

It’s December in Chicago, which means a light layer of snow covers the terraced garden that Eddie is leading you through, stopping at a stone bench flanked by two scraggly bushes. 

“Made it,” he huffs with exertion, dropping your hand to shrug his leather jacket off in favor of draping it around your own shoulders.

“You’re gonna be cold,” you sniffle, partly from the tears, partly from the crisp night air.

“Yeah,” he agrees easily, wrapping you in a hug. You press your forehead to his chest. “Got my girl to keep me warm, though.”

You stay like this for a few moments, his arms solid around you, breaths coming easier as the familiar smell of his tangy skin and that spicy bar soap he uses fills your senses.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” he asks, gently, holding you at arm’s length to study your face.

When you shrug, unsure of where to start, he lets go of you and walks backwards, taking an unflinching seat on the snow-covered bench.

You gasp despite yourself, reaching to pull him up even as he twists out of your grasp- “Eddie, jesus, you’re literally gonna freeze your ass off. Get up!”

But he’s solid in his seat, widening his stance, boots planted on the ground- “I’m not moving until you tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, so you better start talking before my jeans freeze to the concrete.”

“It’s nothing,” you insist, but he’s giving you that look again, the one that cracks through the tough exterior every time, and you wrap your arms around yourself under the warmth of his jacket as you admit, “Okay, fine. It’s something. I’m just… having an overreaction.”

“To the shellfish?” he deadpans.

“No, asshole, to the blonde girl who was rubbing up on you earlier,” you snap.

Eddie blinks, genuine confusion in his voice- “There was a blonde girl… rubbing up on me?”

“She was petting your shoulder,” you continue, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the ground. “She was touching you, and I got- jealous, I guess.”

“Baby, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t remember her, at all,” Eddie emphasizes, spreading a palm flat against his chest in a gesture of sincerity, hair shifting across his shoulders as he cocks his head to the side.

His face is too familiar, too earnest for you to be able to say what you’re feeling without bursting into tears, so you turn on your heel, pacing a short loop in front of the bench, your breath hanging in misty clouds as you speak. 

“It’s not even about her, necessarily. It’s about me and my stupid emotions. I’m not usually like this- jealous, you know? Like, I’m so proud of you, and everything you’ve accomplished, and I don’t mind sharing you, really I don’t, it’s just…”

You pause in your pacing, let your head drop back to look at the inky black sky pinpricked with stars, and your next words fall out like a confession.

“I just feel like I’m in mourning.”

You can feel his eyes on you still, as you loose the feeling that’s been caught tight in your chest. “It sounds so dramatic, when I say it like that. But I think that’s what it is. I miss when it was just the two of us, in this little bubble where no one knew our names and we just had each other.”

As the words leave your mouth, you scramble to explain, to soften the blow, hands tightening around your upper arms as you turn back to face the boy on the bench. “And I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, or, like, a total jealous bitch, because I really love you and I hope you know I’m not- are you laughing?”

Eddie tries his best to stifle the laughter into his fist when he sees how indignant you look. He rises from the bench, still a bit mirthful, pulling you back into his space. “Sorry, honey, I’m not making fun of you, I promise.”

You’re glaring at him now, and he ducks to kiss at the lines between your brow before pulling back and saying, “I think what you’re feeling is normal, and I don’t think you’re overreacting at all. Remember that asshole at the Smith Center party who kept trying to get your number right in front of me?”

“Vaguely.”

“I wanted to punch his lights out. Make a real scene, kiss you sloppy in front of some cameras.” Eddie cups your face in his hands, soothing his thumb against the wetness of your lashline. “What I’m saying is, I get jealous, too. And I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

“But…” there’s a well of emotions that you’re drawing from, and it’s not empty yet, one nagging thought still surfacing. “But these girls that are coming on to you, they’re like… really hot. I don’t look anything like them.”

Eddie frowns. “Are you seriously trying to make a case for yourself on the grounds of not being really hot? That’s not gonna hold up in court, gorgeous. I mean… have you even looked in a mirror recently?”

He lightly taps his knuckle against your head, trying to get you to crack a smile, but you’re not ready to give in yet. 

“You don’t think you’ll get bored of me?” you whisper, dropping your eyes from his consuming gaze to the wyvern inked on the inside of his arm. 

“Sweetheart…” Eddie sounds genuinely pained. The ink in his skin stretches as he slips a hand to the back of your neck, cold rings against your skin making you shiver. “I couldn’t ever get bored of you. Not in a million years. We've been through too much together for you to think like that, hm?”

He strokes his thumb down the column of your neck, those doey brown eyes on you again. “Now I’m not saying you shouldn’t ever be jealous, ‘cuz god knows it makes me hot under the collar when you are. But I’m sayin’ I never wanna make you feel like you need to earn me, okay?”

His thumb tracks back up to the hollow of your jaw, taps twice questioningly, and you nod, letting out a shaky, “Okay.”

When he kisses you, it feels like every other time- comfortable, grounding, familiar. His tongue presses against the seam of your lips, and you let him lick into your mouth, gripping at his arms, flushing hot as you give it back to him in spades.

With a short groan, he pulls back, a wet click as your mouths separate- “As much as I wanna jump your bones in this wintry wonderland, I think the snow might’ve actually frozen my balls off.”

You giggle, spanning your hands around the meat of his waist, kissing up into his mouth again- “Poor baby. Want me to warm ‘em up in my mouth?”

He gives a solid smack to your ass for that, his palm smoothing over the stinging skin with condescension when you yelp- “All dish and no take, baby? Not exactly fair.”

____

Despite your weak protestations that you both should probably rejoin the party, at least until midnight, Eddie insists on taking you back to the hotel. 

“This party blows, anyways,” he says over his shoulder to you as he leads you back through the halls of the house. “If I hear one more Tears for Fears track I might throw myself into the river from one of the hundred balconies in this place.”

He manages to track down Melanie with some effort, winding his way through the throng of people to where she’d been chatting with a reporter, plucking at her elbow to get her away from the crowd and into the quieter hallway with you.  

“We gotta scoot, Mel,” he tells her, really hamming up the charm as the young publicist widens her eyes. “Think you can get us a ride outta here?”

“Mr. Munson, you can’t just leave,” Melanie insists, frazzled. “Someone from Rolling Stone has been waiting for the last hour to talk to you, if you could just-”

“No can do.” Eddie shakes his head, mock-apologetic. “There’s been an accident. Of a personal nature.”

You manage to choke down your laughter as Eddie turns around to show off the dark stains on the back of his jeans. They’re just wet from the snow that he sat in earlier, of course, but it looks convincing enough to make Melanie blanch and pinch the bridge of her nose.

“I’ll have a cab out front in ten for you both. Please keep a low profile until then.”

Eddie gives a sharp salute and you mouth an apology at her before she retreats to find a phone.

Okay, so maybe add a hefty bonus to that Nice Things for Melanie list of yours. 

____

One of the perks of having a rockstar for a boyfriend is the sweet digs- the label shelled out for Chicago’s finest penthouse suite; an entire luxurious upper floor with a private elevator, windows overlooking the far-below city lights, and a sunken bath big enough for two.

Also included? Soundproof walls.

A perk you’re very grateful for as Eddie walks you backwards into the room, sucking a mark with stinging teeth into your neck as you moan, then giggle breathily, admonishing- “Christ, Eddie, slow down. We have all night.”

Eddie pulls back just far enough to frown down at you, his hands slipping under the hem of your dress to squeeze at your ass. His rings are cold against your bare flesh, and he grins when you shiver. “Uh huh. Sure do have all night. You gonna take advantage of that?”

He wiggles his eyebrows, cheekily, but that smirk drops from his face in record time the second you shove him to the bed. As his knees give out in favor of sitting on the mattress, you steady your hands against his broad shoulders to swing yourself into his lap.

Eddie’s looking up at you, cinnamon eyes darkened with lust- it makes your stomach flip something awful. Your skin feels alight with heat as Eddie’s hands drip like water down your sides, then to your parted thighs.

You sigh into his mouth as his fingers trace the front of your underwear, the silk sticky with your arousal.

“Oh, baby,” Eddie says, equal parts admonishment and pitying as you squirm into his touch. “What’s got you this worked up, hm?”

He’s asking like he doesn’t know- like he didn’t tease you with filthy whispers and wandering hands in the back of the car the whole way here. 

“Whaddya think,” you scoff, not quite ready to give in yet, enjoying the thrill of being cagey as Eddie hooks a finger to tuck your panties to the side.

He grins, simmering, enjoying the chase just as much as you. His middle finger swipes through your folds and you shudder in his arms, hands tightening into the meat of his shoulders as he brings the wetness up to your clit.

Eddie rubs quick, steady circles until you’re mewling, bucking hips grinding down to seek more friction. You can feel the wetness seeping out of your core, dampening his jeans as he licks back into your mouth, capturing the soft noises you’re making as he winds you up.

“Can’t believe a pretty thing like you has anything to be jealous of.” Eddie noses at the spot under your jaw, and when you let your head fall back on a hinge to grant him access, he sucks another mark into the column of your throat. “‘M all yours, sweetheart. You gonna take what’s yours?”

Truth be told, your mind went fuzzy the second Eddie got his hands on your clit, the consistent build of pleasure sparking between your legs rather distracting. You’d almost forgotten how the night had started, but you let the jealousy and possessiveness creep back in as you push at Eddie’s chest.

He goes down easily, toeing his boots off and lying flat on the mattress; big hands settle on your waist as you rest your weight into him, warm cunt pressing against the bulge of his clothed cock.

At a light drag of your nails against his bare chest and across his nipple, Eddie groans low, squeezing your hips and rucking into you.

“You’re all mine, Eddie, right?” 

His pupils nearly eclipsing their soft brown irises, Eddie stares up at you like you hang the moon and stars every night just for him. “Yeah, sweetheart. ‘M all yours. Lemme show you.”

Eddie pulls at the backs of your legs, helping you shuffle up his body until your knees are dipping into the mattress at either side of his head. Your core hovers just above Eddie’s mouth- you can feel his breath speed up on the inside of your thigh at this new position. 

“Oh, fuck, Eddie- jesus… christ,” the last word ending in a moan as Eddie’s tongue licks a wet stripe through your folds. 

He pulls you closer with an arm over each thigh until you’re sitting on his face, his nose hitting your clit with each tilt of his head. You’ve got no idea how he’s able to breathe down there but you’re hardly able to hold onto that thought when his tongue has started plunging in and out of you.

Automatically, your hands shoot out to stabilize yourself- one hand goes to the headboard and the other ends up in his hair, gripping the roots hard. Eddie groans, sending vibrations that make your cunt clench around his lithe tongue.

“Like the taste of my pussy, baby?” you coo down at him, regaining some of your breath to give him attitude. 

Reaching a hand back to palm at his cock, you say “No one else can have you like this, hm?”

Eddie catches your eyes as he mouths wetly at your clit, then sucks it into his mouth. Your thighs shake around his ears, your orgasm unfurling in clenching ripples.

“Oh, yeah, Eddie, fuck, I’m coming- just like that, fuck fuck fuck…”

He doesn’t stop suckling at you until you’re gushing around his mouth, then pulling him off by his hair to make him stop.

Eddie heaves in a breath, kissing at the inside of your thigh, his lips and chin shiny with your release. “God, baby. Such pretty noises for me.”

“Mhm.” You shuffle down until your hips are aligned over his, then lean in to lick his mouth clean. “Gonna make some pretty ones for me, now?”

After helping pull his shirt off, Eddie whines softly as you press kisses down his bare chest, and by the time your mouth is pressing over that dark trail of hair that leads into his denim, Eddie’s begging.

“Please, angel, please- need your mouth. Do anything for it, baby, please…”

You rub your cheek against his bulge before pulling back to pop the button on his jeans, then help him shift them down and off his body. Once his black briefs join the growing pile of floor clothes, Eddie’s completely bare and at your mercy.

He gets on his elbows to watch as you mouth at the inside of his thigh, dark hair splayed around his shoulders, chest heaving when you ignore his leaking cock in favor of grazing your teeth against a sensitive spot. “Fuckin’- christ, sweetheart. Come on. Please?”

“Sound pretty when you beg,” you say, mildly, kissing across his heavy sack, hiding a smile when the contact makes him jolt. “Gonna do it some more?”

You keep eye contact as you take one of his balls into your mouth, watching his own eyes roll back so far you can see the whites of them as you use your tongue on him. 

“-yeah, baby, yeah- just like that- fucking, fuck, you’re killin’ me…”

Eddie sounds wrecked already, and a hot flush of pride courses through your body at the knowledge that he could come from just this and it’d be you getting him there. 

You mouth over to the other side of his sack, rolling the skin wiry with coarse hair against your tongue as Eddie moans above you. When your hand wraps around the base of his cock, starting to move in tandem with the pull of your mouth, Eddie makes a noise like he’s been punched.

A line of drool breaks and hits wet against your chin as you straighten up, settling yourself into the V of his legs and using his thighs as handholds while you begin to kiss up the line of his leaking cock.

He’s got a gorgeous dick, truly. Thick and long, curving slightly to the right, a pretty blue vein snaking up the underside that you lathe your tongue against, seeking out the salty brine at the ruddy head.

Eddie moans, brokenly, white-knuckled hands twisting into the sheets. When your mouth closes around the tip, his elbows give out, leaving him flat against the mattress as you work his length further in.

“Oh my god. Oh, fuck, baby. Please don’t stop. Please. Y’feel so good…”

You hum around the stretch of him in your mouth, relaxing your throat to draw him in a bit more. The spiky jealousy from earlier really is your biggest motivator here; covetous, you’re thinking back to all those first times with Eddie- trembling hands under your bedsheets back in Hawkins, stilted voices and giggles to cover up the awkwardness of trying to learn the other person’s body.

No one will ever know him like you do. No one will ever have all that shared history, those fumbling nights that slowly turned to lovesick days; memories of him on his knees for you, learning all the little things that make you tick, memorizing the song of your body.

The boy is all yours. 

Your throat automatically constricts at the intrusion of Eddie’s cock slipping past your soft palate- his hips cant up, which you can hardly fault him for, patient as he’s been with your retrospective and teasing.

Before he can apologize you’re sitting up, wiping at the excess drool with the back of your hand and shucking your dress over your head, letting it and your belt fall to the floor with a soft clunk.

Eddie reaches for you again as you slide your panties down and off, and you let him help you up his body, your knees coming to rest alongside the lightly raised scar tissue at his sides. You stroke a hand down his chest, giving in to a moment of softness before seating yourself fully in Eddie’s lap.

His hands snap to your hips, a near-brutal squeeze as you sink onto his cock. The stretch is always an adjustment, but you’re so wet right now that he slides in easily, a breathy moan from the both of you as the walls of your cunt fit snug around his sizeable length.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” The crown of Eddie’s head is pressed back into the bed, veins in his taut neck on full display as your hips start to swivel, blunt nails scraping into the soft flesh of your waist. “Just like that, sweetheart. Fuck me.”

With your knees planted on either side of his body, you begin to bounce in steady, rhythmic earnest, going for gold, the desire to bring your boy to the babbling edge overtaking every other thought.

“Feel so good, Eds, so big… can barely fit…” There’s a wet squelch accompanying each bounce now, slick dripping down to the base of his cock, your vice of a cunt flexing with every movement.

“S’all you, baby,” Eddie rasps out, toes curling in the efforts to keep his orgasm at bay for awhile longer. “Got a perfect pussy. Takin’ me so well.”

He’s almost in delirium territory, with you chasing after that bright unwinding pleasure at both of your cores; your hips stutter, hands flat on Eddie’s chest to center yourself, a hunger that you can’t seem to satiate gnawing at the edges.

Eddie notices immediately, feels the falter in your motion and brings his hands to your forearms, rubbing a path up them soothingly- “What’s wrong, angel, hm?”

You’re not sure how to put it into words, wishing (not for the first time) that you could just rest your forehead against his and transmit all the complexities of your emotions through touch alone. 

Instead, you sigh out the name that you use when you’re done with taking, a name that lights Eddie up from head to toe as you say it- “Teddy.”

In one swift movement, Eddie slips an arm behind your back and flips you to the mattress, his hair a curtain around both your faces as he leans in to whisper against your mouth- “Teddy’s got you. Arms around me.”

You’re quick to obey, looping your arms around Eddie’s wide shoulders. He slides one hand up the back of your leg, pushing a knee up until it’s at your chest, mouth dropping open briefly when the new angle allows the head of his cock to kiss against that gummy upper wall of your cunt.

“Bored of you,” he huffs, recalling your words from earlier with disdain. “You’re talkin’ to the guy who memorized the first six chapters of The Hobbit just to recite for your bedtime.”

A quick thrust of his pelvis into yours has your stomach clenching in anticipation, brows on a tilt and knitting together as Eddie grins down at you. “Got a wicked attention span, baby. Lemme show you.”

He starts slow, agonizingly so, every inch of his thick cock dragging in and out, wetness pooling down your ass and probably the sheets, too; errant thoughts of housekeeping are rapidly erased as Eddie begins snapping his hips into yours in faster tempo.

He’s working to find that spot, the one that turns your brain to mush and is guaranteed to cause full-body muscle fatigue from the force of your orgasm. Your back arches off the bed, breasts pushing into Eddie’s chest, one arm still supporting your lower back as he laughs hoarsely, half-amazement and half-pride.

“That’s the spot, huh, sweetheart? Atta girl. M’all yours. Take it. Good girl…”

With each thrust, the wiry patch of hair dusted across Eddie’s pubic bone grinds slick and filthy against your clit. You’re so close to the edge now, a wave of pleasure cresting as you look up at Eddie.

There are two thin tracks of black makeup trailing down his face from where tears have made a mess of his eyeliner; rosy spots of flushed color in his cheeks, eyes like twin pools of chocolate, locked with yours as he rocks into you. 

He’s learned the song of your body so well, knows every chord to strike- his hand leaves your leg to grasp at your breast, calloused palm against pebbled nipple sending more shockwaves through your body, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you sing for him.

“All yours,” you gasp out, and it feels like victory when his hips stutter and the cresting wave crashes around you both at the same time.

The pleasure roils through your gut, clit throbbing and cunt spasming around Eddie’s cock as he spills into you. 

A wrecked, broken string of moans leaves you as you ride out the highs together. Eddie presses his forehead to your collarbone as he chants your name, twitching out the last of his spend, warmth blooming inside. 

The quiet that follows is filled with shaking breaths, soft kisses, murmurs of “good job, sweetheart” as you both float back down to earth.

Eddie stays in you for longer than usual, his draped weight a grounding comfort as you trail gentle fingertips up and down his skin, lovingly against the scars that interrupt the smooth flesh of his back. Through the closed windows, you can hear the distant sounds of car horns and the deep boom of fireworks. 

Sometime in the last foggy hour of lovemaking, 1987 has given way to a new year. 

Eddie pulls his heavy head up from your chest to press kisses to your collarbone. “Happy new year, lover.”

You tuck his hair behind his ears, hands squishing lightly at his cheeks to bring his face close enough for a kiss. “Happy new year to you. Hell of a way to kick it off.”

Eventually, Eddie extricates himself from the intoxicating heat of your body (with minimal whining) and brings a warm washcloth to tenderly wipe away the mess between your thighs. Once you’re both cleaned up, he stretches out against the sheets, pulling the covers up as you hook a leg around his waist and snuggle in. 

“So I was thinking,” he starts, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “I wanna take a trip back to Hawkins. Before the tour.”

Your hand stills in its rhythmic circles against Eddie’s chest; heart in your throat, you tilt your chin up so you can gauge Eddie’s reaction. “...yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie picks up your hand on his chest, twining his fingers with your as his other hand settles on your bare hip beneath the sheets. “Could visit Wayne for a few days, fool around in that twin bed like we’re teens again.”

He grins at your giggle, taps playfully at your hip- “Gonna parade you around all our old haunts. You’ve gotten even hotter since we left, babe. Gotta really rub it in the faces of those Hawkins Tigers burnouts whose best dates are their own left hands.”

You snort, and Eddie looks pleased again, but then sobers a bit before saying- “I mean, I’ve got my piece of home with me. But I think it could be good, to visit. Just the two of us.”

You’re quiet for a moment, a longing for home that you’ve managed to ignore these past few years resurfacing. “Can we get high and go to that diner? I mean, Nell’s isn’t as good as Benny’s was, but I’ve been craving a Hawkins milkshake.”

“Christ.” Eddie hides his smile in the crook of your neck, dimples springing to life. “You could ask for the Mona Lisa and I’d find a way to get it to you. Fries and a milkshake, that all I need to keep my girl happy?”

“Yeah,” you reply, a contented noise as Eddie settles against your chest again. “That’s all I need.”

___

thank u thank u for reading if you made it this far have a little kiss from me to you <3 xx lulu

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie

[ladythornofrivia]

Lady with Teal Eyes || Aemond x Aunt!Hightower Reader (Part One)

word count: 2,733

author’s note: i’m sorry that i didn’t post much stories, as I’ve been reblogging and changing themes in my profile. i’m trying my best, but I’ll make up for it.

warnings: incest, cockwarming, teasing, sucking, p in v, rough play, flirting, wholesome moment, jealous aemond, possessive, roughness, mild manhandling, mild degradation, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex, second hand embarrassment, dark content, mentions of su*cide, Aemond being too touchy with his aunt, degradation, humiliation.

summary: Aemond meets his aunt for the first time, and there’s more than meets the eye. (there will be three parts).

There hasn’t been a day that you never left your homeland. All in prosperity. All in solitude, all in mindful thoughts that even the castle walls were unable to perceive. Oldtown is known for the oldest kingdom within Westeros.

We light the way, those are the words from House Hightower, a tall, silver tower with a green light of flames atop. Members of the Hightower court are known to be proud and resilience. Perhaps too greedy to your taste. Less fickle to their needs, their desires, their secrets, their ambition.

All minds think alike, as they said. But your mind is unalike from theirs.

There hasn’t been a single day where your life change—steady as it goes. But when your older sister, Alicent, sent a letter to you from a raven fled from miles, you instantly ripped the seal and unveiled her letters, written in neat cursive. In the days where you can recall that Alicent taught you to read and write, before accompanying your father, Otto Hightower, to aid the ailing king and his throne.

In King’s Landing, where Aegon has set and had trees felled after his conquest in Westeros. The stories of dragonlords and ladies has caught you into a slighted dot of peculiarity. But with your father, you knew that your father wanted more than being as the Hand of the King. Like any folk in Oldtown, he’s all in the same cloak of mind and heart as the rest. The only difference is he has resided in King’s Landing with the Targaryens, warming the throne with Alicent’s political stead.

With you, as Alicent’s half-sister, one thing you adored about her is her resilience, no matter how the power struggle may have been, Alicent held her head high, it inspired you to do the same cause, not for the greater good, but for you to steady your heart. With Alicent’s brown eyes, anyone would be easily swayed at her beauty. With your eyes like glowing water, the subjects were to assume that you’re either a sea creature in the ocean, or have been reincarnated as a woman. Common folks assumed that you’re a goddess sent by Maiden herself. But others theorized you’re born in the sacred pond within the forest.

Despite the nonsensical rumors, you carried out your duties dulled within life, but with your brother, Gwayne Hightower, entered in your chambers without a warning.

“Sister!”

“Good heavens, you gave me a fright,” you screeched, hand clutching over your chest.

“A word from the raven,” he resumed, pulling out the letter. “It’s from our dear sister.”

She hasn’t written you a letter for months. Understanding of her high authoritative position, thankfully enough you aren’t the queen. You couldn’t bear to think about gifting children into the world from your maidenhood.

“Alicent!” Departing from the chair, you snatched the letter from Gwayne’s hand and ripped the letter open, straightening the scrolled paper.

My dearest sister,

I regret to inform you that I cannot visit in the Oldtown due to personal circumstances that our father has been trifled with the matters in King’s Landing. As queen, I must fully prioritize my duties and smite the inconsiderate undutiful thought of others. My dear husband, King Viserys, has been unwell as of late, growing slower day by day, but still the same man who loves his histories and shed upon endless favoritism on his daughter and her plain-featured sons, as well his miniatures he rarely finished. As of this moment, we are preparing the feast for the upcoming celebration. Misery and dread and politics has been my company, and I’d be happy if you come to King’s Landing and stay here for more than a month. I also send Gwayne and his men to escort you back. I hope you still have the new dresses and jewels the seamstress sorted to your taste; I always know that you hated attire that itched your flesh or suffocating. Words cannot expressed about how I miss the sweetness of your smile and laughter. We shall meet soon.

Signed,

Alicent Hightower

Jumping with joy, your body lunged at Gwayne, locking him into a tight hug, slightly hopping in place with a big grin stretched onto your lips.

“Have my things ready, brother,” you said, hasting, forgetting about the silks and fabrics in your hands.

“But you need more time. You’ll stay in King’s Landing as our queenly sister instructed.”

“Send the maids, then. I can’t do this alone.”

“You mustn’t make haste!” Gwayne shouted as you ran off, never minding the silks on the ground only for him to pick up.

“The sooner the better,” you shouted back.

~~~

The trailed ship took no more than three days to reach King’s Landing. Alicent hasn’t mentioned anything particular to the celebration. But you have come to acknowledge that Alicent lessened the details.

By the time the ships rested at the shore, you rushed down to the clear path and greeted your father, who was rather cold and emotionless. Nevertheless, you gave the courtesy of shallow inclination of your neck bent down. Though your heart shattered at the motionless greeting; a chilled wind spiraled on your thickened sleeves.

“Father,” you said, grinning ear to ear.

“Queen Alicent awaits,” is all he said, then left without abiding on you.

“But—”

“Ser Gwayne, escort this lady in the Red Keep,” he wasn’t saying it with care.

This lady.

Months without communication and souvenirs, you’d ought it’ll soften your father’s resolve regarding onto the estrangement.

Another clash of heartbreak has struck again. But it comes as no surprise.

Both of you hadn’t spoke since of his second wife—your mother’s—passing.

As numb as it may be, the small pang in your heart resolved again as Gwayne Hightower escorted you to the high steeps close, reaching the royal grounds of Red Keep.

~~~

Infiltrating from climbing the steps until reaching the indoors, the green queen appeared.

Your sister.

“Alicent,” you rushed and clung her to embrace.

“Sister, how good of you to come,” Alicent replied.

The halls greeted you in cold and dreaded air clinging onto your sleeves, goosebumps flooded over your skin, the thick air of candles and torches has impaled your stomach. You didn’t like this feeling. These halls, darkened in heralds of statues and stars that your pupils recognizant.

Faith of the Seven.

Hightowers held their religion in the highest regard, while you, don’t cherish the ideologies of the religion, filled with fanaticism and hypocrisy. Even Targaryens have the queerest customs, of marrying brother to sister, relative to relative since Aegon I. It dire consequences of genetics and birth, and the fruition of a child birth into an unshakable world of politics and desires. According to the Citadel, in secret debate, those who are born of incest are nothing but sort of monsters lurking, a defect to a bloodline.

The Targaryens disagree—couldn’t care less, of course. As you often heard of keeping the bloodline pure.

Bloodline pure. People speculated that the Targaryens are closer to gods than men. Thus their words ‘Fire and Blood’ is in order. In Valyria, their source is magic and dragons, long before volcanic eruptions swept the lands and dragons into ashes. The last Targaryens resided in Westeros, and thus, their last kind is dwindling, hence creating pure bloodline. As theatrically hysterical as it is, you trudged along the halls.

“It has been so long since I saw you last,” Alicent began.

“It has, but we rarely sent letters as of late.”

“Being a queen is no simple task. Our father’s ambition has gotten stronger.”

“Your father,” you said bitterly.

“My dear sister,” Alicent resumed, her voice soothed. “Father is doing his best to stabilize the realm.”

“Cold, cruel and calculated,” you answered. “Your strength and dutiful as queen is one of the things I admire about you. But, sister, it feels as if my existence is no longer needed. I feel as if I’m useless. My mother received no love from your father.”

The doe-eyed look in Alicent’s eyes protruding. “Sister, I—“”

“Half-sisters,” you reminded. “Everyone thought I was some sort of creature that shouldn’t belong in the realm. I’m no fool; I could hear everyone whisper, even closed doors.”

“Creature or not, you’re still a Hightower. We share the same blood. Nothing will ever change between you and I.”

“But your father will never accept me,” you replied.

Alicent clasped her hands onto yours. “The next time we see each other, I’ll be visiting the Oldtown.”

“You said that the last time on our previous letters,” you chimed. “Let him stabilize the realm alone.”

“That is why you’re here. I needed time apart from the council and subjects,” Alicent reasoned. “Men are often ambitious with their politics and trifling over gold than their wives.”

“It appears so,” you agreed, huffing.

Ironically, Alicent served men, and still is. First Jahaerys, then Otto, then Viserys. Though you wouldn’t so recklessly give your personal opinion away to Alicent.

“We have yet to explore the grounds. We must rest at the gardens. I know how much you love staying in the gardens.”

Your cheeky smile was showing. “I do.”

Alicent squeezed your hand. “Let us be off. It’s considered bad luck if we let our food grow cold.”

“Never knew that it involves bad luck.”

“I’ve been told.”

“By who?”

Not once, Alicent answered.

~~~

“Make yourself comfortable,” Alicent said, indicating the spare chair, and watched you sat with ease, eyeing the lavish outdoors where the Weirwood stood as main view.

“Quite nice out,” you complimented.

This was Alicent meant when she said gardens.

“I chose this spot for a reason,” Alicent said as the servants settled the meal over the table—bowed and left. And the last servant entered, placing a stacked candied almonds and candied plums on a gold platter, alongside of Dornish wine.

Alicent watched your eyes lit up.

“I took the liberty of having the kitchen staff ready for your sweet-tooth,” she clarified.

“You know me well, sister.” You grinned.

“My lady,” a soothing masculine voice said behind you.

“Ser Criston,” Alicent addressed, glancing. “I’m occupied as of this moment.”

“There has been urgent matters regarding to your son.”

Puzzled, Alicent spoke with, “Which son?”

Appalled, your eyes darted at her. On the other hand, you never retain information from Alicent.

“Aegon,” Criston answered, eyes turning away. “I’m afraid his excursions have rather been…” Then his dark brown eyes flicked to yours, his mouth opened, choosing his words carefully.

“We’ll speak no more of it,” Alicent pleaded. “I’m under the liberty of entertaining my sister at the moment. Do ignore Aegon’s excursions for now.”

Somewhere in between the lines, you knew Alicent’s calm demeanor struck hard when the excursions take place, wrath kept within, as you read between Alicent’s lines furrowed on her forehead. Ser Criston glimpsed at you and bowed before withdrawing from the outdoors.

“My apologies,” Alicent said to you in a dreaded voice. “The excursions in the daylight hour upon King’s Landing hasn’t ended.”

“I never knew you had a son,” you said, munching on the candied almonds.

Alicent swallowed the contents of the food. “I mentioned it once before in the letter. That I was having a babe in my belly.”

You pondered for a moment. It was back when Alicent married Viserys and carried a child in her.

“But you never mentioned that it’s a son,” you commented.

“But I’m sure you heard Aegon’s name the moment he arrived into the world.”

Your teeth clenched. “I can assure you I did.” The Oldtown spoke of Aegon in high regards, but as you grew older, you never hear much of Aegon’s doings, hoping to meet your nephew, you waited, but as usual, you sister never once sent letters to offer you an invite.

“Things have been hectic for the past years, and I doubt that’ll cease. With the Iron Throne empty and with all that it stands, we’re keeping the place intact with politics and debate,” Alicent reasoned.

You stayed in silence.

“If you would like,” Alicent continued, “I would be happy to take you to the gallery. The Red Keep has been nothing but a dread. I shall escort you and give you a tour to the Red Keep unless you want someone else to—”

“No, I’d be thrilled if you were to accompany me,” you paused, then said, “sister.”

Alicent gently beamed at that.

~~~

When you and Alicent both went inside the Red Keep, the royal subjects and guards bowed before the green queen as their eyes lingered onto yours, and an incoherent of whispers were passed to your ears.

The sister of the green queen.

And as you ascended the staircases, from there, you saw the shaded eyes of violet and curled hair—a young girl, a few years younger than you.

“Mother, have you seen my—” The girl’s youthful stare darted to yours, backing away gradually.

“This is my sister, (y/n), your aunt,” Alicent introduced. “This is Princess Helaena, my daughter,” Alicent said to you.

“A pleasure.” As you made an inclination to your neck, smiling to the princess as you hadn’t realized that the others accompanied none other by two young men behind Helaena, both with Targaryen features.

Your heart stopped—leapt with warmth—when you first glanced at the tall prince with gold, lithe hair as his other eye covered with eyepatch.

“These are my other sons…” Alicent said, searching for the third son with a slight frown on her features. “Where is Aegon?”

“Drunk as usual,” Daeron rolled his eyes, crossing his arms.

“That blasted fool…” Alicent hissed, then smiled merrily in a way to appease herself. “I hope you and Lady (y/n) would get along.”

“Yes, I remember now! You’re that boy—that cupbearer in the council!” you said to Daeron.

Daeron beamed. “I am proud to serve my mother’s family in Oldtown. Ashamed we never met circumstances in the Reach, yet here we are!” he chuckled. “For my dear father’s name day contained in private ceremony, I’m glad you came.”

You sensed the sarcasm in the word “father”, but shrugged it off.

The dread of unwanted unwelcome washed away with glee. “Indeed. I shall look forward to the festivities.”

Aemond lifted and placed his kiss upon the back of your hand. A kiss placed with gentle fire ignited your dulled soul, envision with flames of blush blaring your dewy cheeks. “A pleasure to meet you, my lady.”

Breath caught in your throat, eyeing on his hand still lingering his intertwine fingers to your skin. “Likewise, my prince…”

For the first time in your life, the gentleness of a dragon has captured your heart and soul.

As for Aemond, with the slighted news of your presence, there’s nothing more than mere maiden who needs to be soiled with his perversions trapped and coiled and enflamed in between his legs. When he first laid his gaze on you, he pictured your flushed skin wrapped with his own, his lips captured yours as his presence trapped into your mind for eternity. But alas, with a wandering thought just now, it wasn’t like him. He mustn’t be capricious and avarice on the spot.

With your grand arrival, Aemond had already decided you’ll become his.

One day at the time, he reminded himself.

“It’s unusual for you to be courteous to someone,” Alicent commented.

“I never wish to scare anyone with my presence, mother,” Aemond said. “It is my duty as a prince to make our special guest comfortable.”

A hot tingle between your legs stirred as you eyed on him—on his lips—how rolled off words with his tongue, finding yourself imagining at the thought of your nephew tasting your folds as you ride him, warming the bed—riding him whilst lace and corset of your precious dress torn apart by his own rugged and young hands.

“He’s only being courteous like Prince Daeron,” you noted, clearing your throat. “Everyone must fulfill their role to the realm. We mustn’t decay our customs to rudeness.”

Aemond’s eye gleamed at your flushing features whilst you looked at Alicent in the eye, you speak with assurance yet your body wavered, dying for your hungered coil in you—the scorch caged within your dress to be set free.

You cannot fool me, my princess, he thought.

In the end, nobody can fool a dragon like him.

Taglist: @daonenonlysandman @toodlesxcuddles @kittendoll05 @omgsuperstarg @xcharlottemikaelsonx @paninisstuff @danika1994 @angeljcca @marvelescvpe @kukulyarva @namelesslosers @heavenly1927 @snh96 @herathedreamer @fandom-maniac-anime @httpsmenace @velunis @nananeptune @domithebomi @moonseye @faesspace @rxixo31 @tm-starr @xinthia19 @popsycles @naiaaramena @aleemendoza2425-blog @letmehavemyfictionalmen @ammo23 @blackswxnn @buccini555 @watercolorskyy @taangie @qardasngan @justyelena @jolixtreesunn @runekisses @thought--bubble @remuslupinwife1 @evergreen9083 @foggypeacestarlight @dixie-elocin @galactict3a @momowhoo @saturnssrings @dani5216 @kimsubin05 @mylosz0 @blackgaladriel @valeskafics

#fanfiction #fanfic #x reader #reader insert #ao3 #archive of our own #aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #ewan mitchell #ewan nation #dark aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #smut #fluff #angst #hotd #hotd x reader #house of the dragon #writers of tumblr #writeblr #writing #writer #write #read #multifandom #fandoms #writers #writers and poets

[fryingpan1234567]

some CHB headcanons

every cabin has LEDs around the inside, but there’s a constant battle over what color they are

Percy has his rippling back and forth from teal to blue and it looks like light dancing through water all over his walls and floor

the Apollo cabin can usually settle for orange and yellow as a common ground

the Aphrodite kids have a different color for each time of day and sleep with pink on the lowest brightness setting

the Hermes cabin has like ten different strips and they’re all constantly shifting

Demeter cabin’s shifts with the seasons

ANYWAYS MOVING AWAY FROM THE LEDS

they have movie nights, which I will talk about in a different post

before everybody goes back to school, the Aphrodite and Hecate cabins have a massive salon at the end of the summer with new haircuts and magic hair dye and outfit recommendations and fake but enchanted sturdy nails and a whole bunch of other stuff and basically it’s a week straight of spilling hot tea between everyone in camp

if someone asks where a camper got their hair done when they get back to school they just go “oh, um… summer camp.” and their friends will snort and be like bro isn’t summer camp the opposite of a makeover?? but they get no argument, just a shrug and a half smile

when I tell you pride month over there is a fucking riot

because Mr. D is in on it, right?? because he’s the god of gender?? and Chiron is aroace and has been raising dumbass gay heroes for literal centuries?? PLUS the sheer fucking amount of queer peeps up in there?? dude yeah

cabins competing for who shows the most pride

Demeter’s roof is covered in rainbow flowers

Hecate’s is enchanted to emit actual light in whatever flag colors of whoever uses the front door, even when they’re straight (it’s just a rainbow)

Percy collects a bunch of shed scales from the hippocampi at the bottom of the lake and then puts them all over his cabin

I could make a whole post about CHB pride but

every single Apollo kid is also a theater kid fight me

Rachel Elizabeth Dare painted a skateboard for Percy’s birthday and he brings it everywhere now, it even sits in his backpack at school

Leo, Annabeth, Percy, and Piper fucking love horror movies. Frank, Hazel, and Jason fucking hate them. They watch through their fingers, if at all

Piper loves the band Surfaces with all her heart, but she also is a die hard Green Day and P!ATD fan

Jake Mason is covered in burn scars up to his neck, just like Deadpool, just not bald lol

Hephaestus and Apollo kids faintly radiate warmth (like more so than a normal person)

the Stolls sometimes stay at camp year-round because their mom is off on international missions that are too high-risk for them to help with

the seven are AVID Smash Bros players

really everyone but

not as many people go to the Athena campers for help with homework as you might think, but whenever anyone does, they’re happy to help

the sun chariot blasts music at a frequency only the Apollo kids can hear, so their life kind of has a shitty soundtrack that consists of a mix of Broadway, Queen, modern stuff, and random bits of Beethoven every now and then

the Romans swear on few occasions

the Greeks know when to swear and when to be polite

the Valhalla peeps swear unbridled and all the time

the Egyptians never swear (in English)

for the longest time, Will Solace thinks the only gift from his dad is his healing prowess— which is obviously great, but he expresses being upset over the fact that he’s not very good at archery

well, considering this is the dumbass who didn’t bring a weapon to actual fucking Tartarus, Nico drags him to the weapon shack thing immediately afterwards and made him pick something out

he's immediately drawn to the Celestial Bronze shotgun.

Nico’s just like “what in the redneck shit did you just pick up” and Will jokingly aims it at his chest and grins and says “you know I’m from Texas, right?”

that’s how they find out Will is one of the damn best marksmen in Greek demigod history

some of the Disney nerds in the Apollo cabin sing What Once Was Mine to the little ones who need bandaids for knee scrapes and give them lollipops afterwards

Percy Jackson absolutely used to make poverty and struggle meal jokes all the time, but he got weird and concerned looks for it at CHB, so he kind of just stopped. But one day, aboard the Argo II, the PERFECT opportunity came up and he just HAD TO and as per usual— everyone else looked at him like he’s crazy— but Leo laughed so hard chocolate milk came out of his nose and that’s the story of how the two of them became Best Friends

#anyways idk what came over me #riordanverse #percy jackson #leo valdez #jason grace #Annabeth Chase #hazel levesque #frank zhang #piper mclean #Will Solace #nico di angelo #solangelo #valgrace #Jake Mason #connor stoll

[undercoverpena]

i. aren’t repulsed by me

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter one of i like the way you

best friend! friends with benefits! frankie morales summary: what starts off as an offhand remark, quickly becomes a regular, scheduled 'stress relief'. the only problem is, both of you are in denial that you feel anything outside of friendship for the other.

chapter warnings: friends with benefits. fwb! rules. smut. p in v. dirty talk.

an: the biggest hug to @ghostaholics because without her allowing me to waffle saturday night, all of this wouldn't be here. a huge thank you to @thetriumphantpanda for reading this and telling me i should post it, and to my eyes all over my skies @guyfieriii

wordcount: 4k

“You’re late.”

Frankie smirks, watching you lean in the doorway, his hand lifting the sweating bag of food and the clanging paper bag containing the essentials, aka wine and beer.

He watches as the gesture makes your eyes narrow, forgiveness etching across earlier annoyance as you put out your hand, offering to take something, anything.

“The store close to mine was out of your wine.”

Shutting the door, he finds you glancing over your shoulder, the television already set up. The usual array of candles and blankets across your living room—the ones which aren’t romantic, just mood setting (a thing you’ve highlighted to him many times). Not to him—he knows. But to others. Those who don’t understand that a friendship that’s spanned over ten years can remain as innocent as it seems—that movie nights were just movie nights. Even if the group chat joked otherwise.

“I’m serious,” he adds.

“So it’s not because you left yours at the time you were supposed to be here?”

Snorting, he follows you into the kitchen—the light flickers on, making him blink. Once again thwarted by the phone you made him upgrade to—the one which spills his secrets, like location and when he’s read your message.

Grabbing a plate, you hold it out to him. “That’s what I thought.”

“Y’gonna forgive me, or am I gonna have to surrender my movie privilege next time?”

You scrunch your nose—an act that shouldn’t make him smile, but does. His eyes scan up and down your face, a calmness spreading over him as soon as he is in the walls of your place—a feeling he always has when he’s with you.

His friend—his best friend.

A person who has been there through it all. Not batting an eyelid when he knocks on past midnight, red-eyes, dripping with rain because he lost his license, and he can’t sleep, and he’s so impossibly fucking tired. Not fazed when he slumps next to you, detailing the heartache of finding out he wasn’t going to be a father after all, handing him a bottle of beer—his favourite, the only kind you keep, all because of him.

You don’t make him pay. You never do.

Forever there, a rock—a comfort and a safety. It’s why he doesn’t fuck around with movie nights—doesn’t fuck around with anything to do with you. A silent promise, a rule: Frankie will always be there.

It didn’t matter if the person you dated hated him, didn’t matter if you pulled away because life became hard and you wanted to decline invites to the bar with the others. Frankie was there, the two of you giving and taking, always balanced, forever shared.

Movie nights reflected this. Last time was his choice, and tonight, it’s yours. A romantic comedy, with a twist—you’d said. He didn’t ask questions, just nestled under the blanket you dubbed his—green, worn, “like you, Morales”, you’d said when you’d pulled it out of the cupboard for him.

Taking his plate, you pop them on the coffee table. “You think you’d ever do it?”

“What? Friends with benefits?” He watches as you nod, getting comfortable again in your place. “Be better than whatever I’m doing now.”

“Which is?”

Smirking, he rolls his head on the back of your sofa. Hat gone, thrown on your armchair, fingers carding through his curls as he glances at you. “Nothin’. I’m not… I’m not dating—don’t really have the time. My schedule is just…”

“Fucked?”

Laughing, he nods.

“Can’t say I’m much better…”

Nudging you, you lift your chin, meeting his eye line again—something there, flickering. An array of words you’d usually share, but stick, cling somewhere in your throat as you offer him a comforting smile.

One he knows, well.

It’s your ‘doesn’t matter’ smile. The one you give when you’re single again, not willing to explain it—not until you’re two glasses into the bottle he’s brought to cheer you up—mumbling about not wanting him to say anything. As if saying something would be at the top of his agenda with some of them.

“It’s just that… I don’t wanna do that dating bit. You know, doing the how are you? What do you do, shit? Can’t exactly go out and just say I want to be bent in half and stuffed full—“

“Fuck me.”

“—but really, that’s all I want. Fun, with someone I don’t dislike, but won’t ask me to do romantic things that make me fall for them, only to be let down by them like I always am.”

Letting his head rest on your sofa, he sighs. “Yeah, same. Just want the stress relief.”

You agree by letting the softest yeah fall from your lips before you glance back at the movie. But he knows you’re not watching it. Eyes glazed over, brain ticking, turning. His finger poking you, the same way he always did—something he began doing back when he told you he’d enlisted, and you didn’t say anything except ‘you were happy for him’.

“Just thinking, I could… I could probably help you solve it, the stress relief. You know? That is—if you didn’t find me so repulsive.”

It’s instant, the way he feels his forehead scrunch and his eyes narrow. The sound of the movie fading to nothing—mind filling instead with your words, them rolling, and rolling, and rolling…

Frankie stares. Watching, finding you, if anything, looking like you weren’t even expecting a reply, never mind needing one.

“I don’t—I don’t find you repulsive.”

You smile, with an added snort, before layering on a shrug for added measure. The embodiment of unbothered, the painted picture of I don’t care.

He’d believe it too if you didn’t stand so quickly—mumbling about getting another drink. Asking if he wanted one. So quick to leave, to remove yourself from the situation, from being close to him.

It isn’t until he watches you stand that it hits him. The realisation going straight through him as he sees your shoulders slide down, the knowledge tearing, ripping—it feels worse than a bullet because:

You don’t believe him.

A part of you having convinced yourself before you’d even thought the words, never mind said them, that he could possibly think you weren’t attractive to him.

It forces him up from his seat, blanket discarded, pursuing you—the television covering the sound of his feet on your wooden flooring, the tap filling your glass doing the rest until he’s behind you. The glow of the street light through your kitchen window halos around you as you keep your back to him. Hand twitching at his side, a part of him unsure if he should keep standing here or if he should turn you.

Think, Frankie. Think.

Because for all the usually loud reasons he normally has told himself as to why he shouldn’t pursue you, it’s now surprisingly quiet in his head.

Even more so when you turn, the glass in your hand, eyes taking him in.

The rest is just instinct—not even thinking. His hands come either side of you, pressing into the counter, swallowing, watching as you place your glass down.

“I don’t find you repulsive,” he says, low, almost gruff. It comes from deep within—laced in other confessions, wrapped in words he hopes you can’t hear. “Not in the slightest.”

His eyes burning, searing the words in. Watching as you don’t break from him, lips ever so slightly parting, before he sees your gaze drop to his mouth, before flicking back up.

If someone asks, he’ll never be able to confirm who moved first. The two of you finding yourself in the middle, mouth slanted over yours, feeling your tongue behind his teeth as you pull him close, his arms caging you in. He can taste the berries, the sweetness that he hopes is just you and how it’s mixed with the sauce from the food—heat licking up his spine, need spreading through his stomach as he presses himself flush against you, leaving no room between him, you and the kitchen counter.

It’s intoxicating, dizzying, the feeling of dipping his toe into the pool he has always thought was off limits. Feeling you moan. Frankie basks in the sound, paints himself in it—hoping he can hear you sing his name, hoping he’ll hear it—capture it, keep how pretty, it is all to himself.

You moan when he grinds his hips into you. It vibrates down his throat, marking him, scratching its claws into him as he grips the back of your head—deepening the kiss. Drowning in it—in you. You’ve always made him breathless, so now he just hopes you pull him under, your hands clutching him closer, as though he’s your anchor—when in truth, he’s pretty sure that’s you for him.

“If we do this,” he says, dragging his lips down your neck, feeling one of your hands slide into his hair, “We need rules.”

Teeth grazing against your skin, the scent of your lingering perfume infecting his nose. A scent that usually clings to him, buries itself in his clothes—one he finds comfort in. Like he always finds comfort in you.

“Like, we can’t tell anyone.”

Snorting, you meet his lips—kissing him, tongue swiping across his bottom lip as he groans. Signing it, his proclamation.

“Deal,” you whisper. “I’m not staying over at your place. You can stay here, but I’m not… I won’t—“

He places his palm on your cheek, tilting your head, chaste, smaller kisses. A silent agreement.

Licking his lips, his heart thunders at the next. The one which is like acid in his stomach—one you could think is selfish, demanding. “You can date, but if we’re fucking, we’re fucking. I don’t share. So, if you want to do that with others, you tell me, and we stop this.”

“Okay.”

His other hand slid between the two of you, thankful—more than he can articulate and ever put into words—that you’re wearing sweats. His.

An old pair—one you’d borrowed when you’d spilt food on yourself and never returned.

Fuck, they always looked better on you.

Smirking, you turn your face, kissing his wrist. “But, you can’t buy me wine anymore. No flowers. No romance.”

Chewing his cheek, he mirrors your smirk. “You can’t cook me food.”

Sighing, you nod.

“So.”

“So.”

Grinning, you loop a finger into his belt hook, pulling him close. His fingers toying with the knot on your sweats.

“So, you gonna put your mouth where your hand is?”

Raising his brows, you laugh—light, airy, fucking beautifully.

“Is that what you want, querida? Huh.” He says, voice dropping, hand cupping you through his sweats. “Cause I’m dying to see if you taste as good as I’ve imagined.”

“You’ve not imagined this.”

Lowering his lips to yours, he ghosts them over—your breath warm, teasing against his skin, the hairs above his lip. “Oh, I have.”

His fingers move, toying, teasing. Hearing you murmur a groan in the back of your throat as he imagines how wet you are. Whether there’s a patch on your underwear, whether you’ll coat his fingers when he finally touches you skin on skin.

“You need a ha—”

“Don’t worry, querida,” he whispers, the hand on the back of your head sliding around your neck, thumb under your chin, tilting your head up, “I’m good with my hands.”

He’s not sure if the moan you emit is at his words or the fact he undoes the little knot at your waist with one hand. But fuck does he swallow it—he feasts on it. It fills him like no food ever could as he manoeuvres his hand, fingertips brushing cotton before he slides his fingers against your warm skin.

“Last chance,” he offers, light touches, all feathery. Not quite touching, but close enough.

Swallowing, you shift your weight, ever so delicately handing him the words he desperately needs: I want you, Morales.

Morales, he thinks—fingers dipping into your wetness, slick covering his fingers, and it’s his turn to groan. More so when he drags his finger over your swollen clit, admiring how you arch into him, mouth desperate to find him, breath ghosting over him as he grins, all cocky, likely lit up by the moon and the street light.

“You’re the prettiest fucking thing,” he groans.

Pressing two of his fingers inside your heat, the hand on your jaw—finger under your chin—keeping your eyes up, lifted, perfectly on him so he can watch how your flashes flutter. Watch in the highest of definitions what he’s doing to you.

“Always have been,” he continues.

His focus is only on you, and all you’ll give him as he pumps his fingers in and out—the sound of how much you want this, want him, coating the air. So much so that he can practically taste it.

A part of him knows how close you are before you whisper it.

Imagining the way heat is pooling in your stomach, that your fingers must be aching from how you’re gripping the kitchen counter for leverage as he curls his fingers inside of you. And fuck, does he hate jeans—hates how tight they feel on his hard cock, how all he wants is to relieve some pressure, to grip the base in his hand and squeeze so he can marvel at how fucking gorgeous you are like this.

“Eyes on me,” he says, gruffer, laced in gravel—all low, like it’s coming from somewhere deep inside of him. It has, truthfully.

The moment he began seeing your lashes fluttering, he knew he didn’t want them to close.

Your whine, peppered with a moan emitting. “I’m so cl—close.”

Smirking, he licks his lips—dragging his tongue across his bottom lip. The one you want where his fingers currently are. Almost wishing you could speak so you could ask, beg, plead.

“I know, querida. I know. It’s why I want your eyes on me.”

Your body pauses. Halts.

Then he feels it, the beginning—the telltale sign. The incoming he wants to have a second sight for by the end of the night, as he marries his lips to yours, desperate, needy, to taste what it’s like when you call his name as you come.

Fuck you even sound pretty.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought of him.

But dreams could never live up to him.

His hands on either side of your face, kissing you as you step out of your sweats, and underwear, that he’d yanked down your thighs when you’d caught your breath.

Fuck, he is good with his hands.

It’s the first thought you have since he caged you in the kitchen—all serious, something etched into his forehead that is now smooth, like it was never there. It’s also the first solid thought you’ve had since you returned to Earth from him making you come in the kitchen.

And you’re thankful that his fingers are on your cheeks, your body having turned into liquid—muscles having forgotten their role with your bones betraying you too. Your hand loosened on his wrist, the one you’d gripped to feel what it was he was doing to you, needing to be present with each thrust of his fingers.

Now, you’re leading him.

Body having taken over, while your brain is left still reeling.

Because fuck do you want this. You’ve imagined it, dreamt of it. Frankie, your best friend, the one who knows you better than you know yourself—clearly in more ways than you ever counted on for how quickly he undid you in the kitchen.

It’s why you turn, realising you know him too.

Stories coming to you, memories—ghostly snippets that had filled you with rage that now fuel you—as your hand grips him through his jeans. Quick, careful—well-versed—in the way you crash your mouth to his as his groan vibrates against your tongue. Your spine met the wall closest to your room, him thrusting into your hand, words falling, all laced in lust and dusted in desperation.

“Por favor, te deseo. Please, querida.”

You’re slow in the way you undo his jeans. The pop of the button is dramatic, a sign. Your mouth places kisses against his lips, his cheeks, jaw and neck.

Then, you’re unzipping his fly. The sound cutting through the pants, the heady breaths—the only other discernible sound is the movie the two of you have left playing.

“Wanna wrap my mouth around you, Morales.”

You can’t see him, but you can hear his throat swallow, likely imagining the way his eyes are staring at you, drinking you in, dragging them up and down your face like he was in the kitchen.

“Yeah, you wanna taste me?”

Nodding, you bite your lip, palm brushing over his covered cock—lashes fluttering at the feel of him. Because he’s thick, big—fucking hard. Something you should have known from the way his pants hugged him, the way it commanded a glance when he wore those lighter-wash jeans.

“You think you can take all of me down that pretty throat of yours, baby?”

Snorting, you flatten your palm against him—hearing him hiss, wishing there was light, wanting to see the expression on his face. “I’d give it a good go.”

Dragging his thumb over the curve of your breast, the fabric moving, applying additional friction before he’s lingering, drawing a circle over your nipple until it pebbles, just as you hear him smirk—adamant, somehow you can even see it.

“Later,” he adds. “Need to feel you come around my cock first.”

You couldn’t argue with him. Less so when more clothes fall, unveiling him. All soft muscles, defined when he flexes, the pair of you down to your underwear—a path of removed clothes detailing the route the two of you have taken.

Frankie kisses you hard.

Pulling you back to him, removing any other thought from your mind with ease. Not that you have the time to think about how you can’t believe this is happening, or the movie that’s still playing. Not when he’s leading you, walking you backwards, hand on your waist, thumb drawing circles, squares, triangles and everything else until the back of your legs meet your bed.

Then, you’re falling, landing on cool, cushioning fabric, bouncing ever so slightly as he wipes his hand across his bottom lip.

“Still can’t believe you ever thought you’d repulse me.”

Your skin warms, burns. A part of you wants to hide yourself, cover your stomach with your arm, hide your face in a pillow.

His fingers slide over the fabric at your waist, a whispered can I that you’re quick to nod at, until you’re bare in front of him. No hiding, illuminated by the moon and the stars outside, covered in milky-white light, hoping it’s forgiving on your curves.

“Querida, where are your—“

“I’m clean. Are y-you?”

He nods, direct, quick. Evident of a former soldier as his fingers slide under your chin. Mouth asking if you’re sure, he doesn’t mind. You just kiss his touch, bringing your hand around his wrist, sliding his fingers into your mouth.

I’m sure.

I’m so sure.

Then he’s crawling up you, his mouth slanting over yours. All tongue, all passion. His hand wraps around your head as the other guides the head of his cock through your slick, tilting your face up, opening your eyes to see him barely a breath away as he stares down at the two of you. Eyes pausing on the place where you’ll soon be conjoined.

“Look at me,” you say this time.

Watching his eyes drag back up to yours, your arms wrapping around his neck.

“Please fuck me, Frankie.”

He nods, wearing the most gentle, sweetest smile on his face. “I will, I promise. Anything for you, querida.”

All you can think is fuck.

Not getting a second to comprehend his words before he sinks in, every inch of him making you feel so full. Your head going limp in his head, arms tightening around his neck, gasping as he keeps going, and going until he’s buried in you to the hilt.

And you’re sure, could swear on it with confidence, you’ve never felt such fullness—filled to the brim, stuffed.

“So full,” you moan.

You swear he smiles, lit up by the light through your undrawn curtains.

“Thought about this,” he says as he pulls out and slams back in. “After Ben’s party, when you wore those jeans—in the summer when you wore those shorts. Fuck, baby, your legs—”

He says it as he runs a hand over the outside of your thigh, gripping the top as he punctuates it with a thrust.

“Always thought you were pretty, too fucking good for those people you dated—”

Your hips push back, meeting him. “—Frankie—”

“—too good for me, really.”

And you groan, whimper, moan. Letting a no fall out, an attempt at arguing with him for what he said.

But he kisses it away.

Desperate, more passion and teeth than before. A silent pleading for you to bury your words. A mixture of all three coming out at once, hitting the air, tainting it in something good that should feel sinful. Your hand slides down over his neck, shoulder and torso, clutching his waist as you mirror his movements, meeting him with everything you have, lips ghosting over his neck, tasting the salt and smelling the scent you know is just him.

A scent you hope digs into your skin, able to wear it long after this. An aroma that has always brought you comfort, even if it shouldn’t—even if the two of you are friends, nothing more.

And you’re close, beads of sweat on his brow, and if he isn’t the most handsome man you’ve ever had above you. One that you want to flip onto his back so you can admire him from above—sitting poised on his cock, bouncing on him until your eyes are blazed with stars and satisfaction.

The sounds of the two of you, all obscene, wet, as he grips the back of your thighs and somehow fucks you deeper. Each thrust punches a breath from your lungs, fingers clutching his shoulder, the other buried in the duvet.

“Takin’ me so well, baby. Can’t believe I’m fucking you.”

“Fucking me so good, Frankie. Fuck.”

“Better than your exes?”

You nod, words at a loss. All stolen, punched from you by his cock—because you feel so good, he makes you feel so good.

You swear you hear him say good, all low, voice dark, as you feel his hand sliding between you before he brushes his thumb over your clit. Circling, circling, circling—

Frankie knowing what you need, likely skimmed his fingers across your skin and read you like a map. 

That, and the fact he must feel you squeezing him, tightening, vice-like around him as he begins to pound into you.

“I always fucking hated your exes.”

Your back arches, like he commanded it. It sparking, what he’d been driving you to, erupting, rippling out from your core across your body, as his name rips from your throat. The sound of your moan blending into the air, tingeing it, painting it with his groans as he continues to work you through it.

Ever-determined, focused.

Your hand slides down from his shoulder to his chest, to his waist, feeling his muscles flex under the skin.

It’s only as you begin to catch your breath, that you realise how close he is.

You smirk, devilish, all laced with cockiness as you beckon him down, knotting your fingers in his curls, dragging his head down, so your mouth is close to his ear. “Always hated your exes, too,” you say, punctuating the words. “Now be good and fill me up, Morales.”

CHAPTER TWO ->

#jo: iltwy #frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #Frankie morales x reader smut #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #francisco morales smut #frankie morales smut #triple frontier smut #frankie morales x f!reader smut #pedrostories

[mavrintarou]

[3:45PM] Suna Rintarou (prequel of DD) [2]

Happy birthday to Suna Rintarou! I know I've made him a clingy fox but I honestly think this man is a clingy fox when he's in love.

Warning: clingy man and smut (18+)

Prequel (part 1) Prequel (part 3)

.

“So, what’s going on with you and this woman?” Osamu inquired, his brow furrowed in curiosity.

The glass cup froze at Rin’s lips, and the whiff of yeast in the beer hit his senses. Gulping his beer, he set the cup down. “It’s going…”

When he woke up alone in his bed two days ago, he was slapped in the face with disappointment and anger.

“Haah…” a bitter laugh escapes his dry lips, lips that he could still taste her from hours ago.

Rin slams his fist into the pillow she was sleeping on out of anger and frustration.

He frowned when his fist came into contact with what seemed to be a piece of paper.

Hey sleepy head,

I tried to wake you up but you wouldn’t budge. I was called in for an overnight flight, there was no one else near that could do it so I had to go.

I’ll text you when I land in Istanbul.

Y/n

Rin waited for her text like an obedient puppy that entire day.

Looking back, he can’t remember the last time he was excited to receive a text message.

[**note: The green color text is dialogue text message exchanged in the past]

Hey.

After leaving him hanging for over 15 hours, he can’t say he was elastic to receive a Hey from her.

Hey you. He texted back.

She quickly responded As I promised, I’d text you when I landed. Were you upset when I wasn’t there when you woke up?

Yes. He texted back. Very upset.

A little taste of your own medicine? :P

Rin let out a scoff.

Don’t be mad, I left you a note though, right?

She did, unlike him.

You did, not mad at all, sad but not mad. When can I see you again? He sounded desperate and was desperate, but he didn’t care.

I thought you said one date.

He chewed his lip, and quickly typed I didn’t specify…

You mean you haven’t had your full fill of me yet?

“No,” Rin answered out loud, his fingers quickly typing his response. Fuck no. If I didn’t make it very clear, Y/l/n Y/f/n, I’m very interested in you and want to get to know you more. He doesn’t know where this confidence is coming from, but he is going to piggyback off of it before he loses it. I don’t mean it as in your body, that’s a bonus. I know we are very compatible in bed, you can’t deny that. But I want to get to know you on a mental and emotional level too. And other physical levels too.

When he didn’t see her respond quickly, he groaned. She had the power to put him on his toes, he was willing to admit he was wrapped around her fingers.

His phone finally dinged a notification.

I’ll be home on the 25th.

It’s the 25th and he hasn’t heard from her, the last time they spoke was more than 48 hours ago.

Boundaries, his conscience is always reminding him. As if the universe is watching him and shaking their heads, they have been sending all sorts of videos and posts about dating. He’s been seeing them all over his social media platforms. He began watching dating tips and it opened his eyes.

But today was his birthday, and she said she would be home on his birthday. She didn’t specifically say on his birthday but on the 25th, his birthday, so he was going to convince himself she was returning for his birthday.

His phone vibrated in his pocket.

Hey, are you free for a call?

Instead of replying, he called her.

“Hey,” he breathed. He hurried out of the bar and shuffled away from the loud noise coming from the entrance of the bar.

“Am I… catching you at a bad time?”

God, I missed her voice, Rin thought.  

“No,” his breath is visible against the cold January night air. “Are you home?”

“Yeah,” she sounded like she was shuffling around, “just ended my shift. Are you… still down to meet?”

Rin looked at his watch, it was already 10 PM, was she… implying…

“I’m out at the bar at the moment, do you want to come out?”

It was a moment of silence before she replied, “sure, text me the address.”

Twenty minutes later, Rin kept looking at the door, his eyes instantly at the door every time it opened but would look away disappointed when it wasn’t the person he was waiting for.

Atsumu followed his gaze, “are you waiting on your girl? Is she coming here?”

The corner of Rin’s mouth curved into a smirk, his girl. “Yeah, she’s coming.”

At last, the person he’d been waiting for walked through the door and glanced around the place. Standing up, Rin marches over towards her.

Y/n smiles the moment their eyes meet, “hey – “

The rest of her words are cut off as Rin pulls her into a hug. It was a full-on bear hug, his face nuzzling into the crook of her neck and shoulder. “Missed you…”

Y/n pulls back and frowns, “had a lot to drink already?”

He nodded his head, his bangs flapping.

Y/n reached to brush his bangs away, “where’s your table at?”

He shook his head, grabbing her hands and bringing them to his chest. “Let’s go…”

“Go where? Shouldn’t we at least say hang out for a little bit – “

“No, we can go, go anywhere… I’ve had enough drinks for the night.” It was true, he didn’t want to drink anymore now that Y/n was here right beside him. He just wants alone time with her.

He groaned when he heard his name being called by Miya twins. Looking over his shoulder, he cast a glare at them to shut up but that only taunts them to shout his name even more.

Before he could do something, Y/n dragged him towards the table.

“Oho! You’re Suna’s girl?” Atsumu’s loud voice rang throughout the bar. “I’m Atsumu, this is Osamu, we’re high school buddies of Suna’s.”

Y/n smiled at them returning the greeting and all Rin could think about was how he was not happy to share her smile with his friends. Her smile was his and his only.

“Okay, Suna, stop glaring at us, go.” Osamu waved his hand in a shooing manner. “Happy birthday by the way.”

Rin watched Y/n’s eyes widen before she looked at him, “that’s right, it’s your birthday!” She leaned over and waved at a waitress, “a round of beer and shots at table 3 please!”

.

“Rin…” Y/n shakes him by his chin, “put in your passcode…”He opened his tired eyes and stared at his door lock, his mouth opened but Y/n covered his mouth before he could speak. “Just press it, don’t say it.”

He moved her hand, mumbling, “how do you not know…”

Y/n frowned, “I don’t know and I shouldn’t know your passcode, we’re not that close yet.”

Rin stood on his own and held a finger, “watch,” he used that finger to press his passcode in. “Now, you know.”

Y/n looks away with a smile tugging at her lips, “get inside.” She pulls at the door and drags him inside.

.

His head was pounding. He stares at the ceiling contemplating his life choices from last night.

A sigh of relief comes from his left and his head turns immediately.

He was 99% sure it was Y/n with her back facing him but there was that 1% that left him feeling uneasy. He couldn’t remember how he made it home but he was sure that he remembered seeing Y/n come to the bar… it was everything after that that he had no recollection of.

It was most definitely Y/n, she fit perfectly beside him just as he remembered. Carefully, he leaned over to get a glimpse and silently sighed in relief when it was her.

His brows frowned when he noticed the fresh blue-purple bruise on her right cheekbone. Without thinking, he flipped her on her back, waking her up. “What happened to your face?” He carefully cupped her face, his breath hitching when she flinched. “Who hurt you? Who gave you this bruise?”

“You, you did,” Y/n murmured, closing her eyes. “I’m very tired, I haven’t slept in over 24 hours. So let me sleep please.” She shifts and wiggles until she can pull the covers over her.

That’s when Rin realized they had been sleeping on top of his comforters instead of under.

He rolled her on her back again, “I’ll let you sleep in a bit but tell me, how did I give you this bruise? Did – did I hit you?”

She opened her left eye and stared at him. Genuine concern was written on his face making her think twice before she teased him. She didn’t doubt at all that he would ever lay his hand on a woman in violent ways, she can only imagine all the things running in his head. “No, Rin, you did not hit me. You head-butt me instead, on accident of course.”

She explained how she brought him inside and was trying to get him in bed when he tripped and knocked the both of them on his bed. His head collided with her cheek painfully hard making her see stars for a few seconds. He knocked out, locking her beneath him. She had no choice but to just throw his comforters over them instead of getting under.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, eyes on her bruise. “Can I… sleep beside you?”

“Sure,” she smiled tiredly and closed her eyes, instantly falling asleep once again.

She must have been so tired and she still came out to the bar. He thought to himself. As gently as possible without waking her up, he pulled the comforters up to her chin. She was so deeply asleep she didn’t stir when he pressed a kiss to her temple and a faint one to the bruise.

.

Y/n was not used to having someone cuddle against her, let alone a 6’3 grown man.

But she didn’t have the heart to wake him up.

Looking at her watch, it was the late afternoon already. They had slept their entire day away.

That was something she was used to, whenever she would return from flying halfway around the world. She would need half a day to a whole day to readjust to the time zone.

Except this last flight. She left in a hurry as soon as she could and dropped off her luggage at home. She should have showered and would have but he had called her.

She quickly sprayed some perfume and left her place to meet him.

Y/n couldn’t count how many times she had reread his text message.

I don’t mean it as in your body, that’s a bonus. I know we are very compatible in bed, you can’t deny that. But I want to get to know you on a mental and emotional level too.

If she was honest with herself, she would say Rin was head over heels for her. It wasn’t that she wasn’t used to it, but she had never had someone younger than her show this much interest in her. She would admit that she did not realize how much younger he was to her. She thought he was her age if not older.

With her lifestyle revolving around her career, having a committed relationship was not a priority for her. If it wasn’t for his persistence and foolishness in kneeling in front of her in public, she would not have given him a second chance.

It’s an unspoken rule that you don’t have second times with the same person that was meant to be a one-night stand.

But Y/n herself… couldn’t help but give in to him.

Enjoy it while you can, she told herself.

A low groan rumbled from the body that was squishing her, “are you hungry?”

Y/n thought for a second before responding, “yes, now that you mentioned it.”

Rin lifts his head off her shoulder, his hair flopped upward messily. His eyes zeroed in on her bruise. “God, I’m so sorry.”

“Did it get uglier?” Her tone is teasing, she reaches to touch it but Rin catches her wrist.

“No, take this as a compliment but you can make a bruise look beautiful.” He kissed her knuckles. “Come, let’s go get something to eat.”

.

Rin didn’t want to part from her. He had a feeling they would go their way after this meal.

He had ordered food and had it delivered to his place to avoid having Y/n go out in public with the bruise on her cheek.

So he took his merry time eating his hangover Miso soup.

He turned a blind eye each time she would tilt her watch to check the time.

“Are you regretting your life choices with alcohol and beer?” Y/n teased watching him sigh and stare at his soup. Y/n frowned when he looked up at her like a child afraid to ask a question. “What?”

“Are you going to leave after this?” He finally asked the question that had been eating him up inside.

“Do you not have work tomorrow?”

He shook his head, “no, I have the rest of the week off.” He waited a heartbeat before asking, “what about you?”

It was Y/n’s longer time off. Once a month, she’ll get four to five days off before resuming her hectic schedule again. Usually with her time off, she spent the time relaxing and running any errands she needed to while home.

Without any set plans, she caught on to his clear obvious hint. Y/n, in a playful yet earnest manner, narrowed her eyes at him and inquired, “why do you ask?”

“Because I want to hang out with you.” He answered right away. “We could do anything you want…” He looked at her with waiting eyes, “I just want to be with you.”

Y/n couldn’t resist the delight of being desired by someone, particularly someone as captivating as Rintarou. His charm and voice had her completely enchanted, and the more time she spent with him, the more spellbound she became. Is he completely unaware that his words to her evoked sensations in her heart that she had only fantasized about?

Being the one to break the intense staring going on between them, she could feel her face warming up. “I have tomorrow off as well,” she stated, locking eyes with him once more, this time with more confidence. “So, what should we do?”

.

Rintarou did not peg Y/n as one to enjoy horror films. His intentions after she allowed him to choose a film, a horror film, was to have her cuddle against him so he could wrap his arms protectively around her.

Instead, he sat beside her, pouting as Y/n’s full undivided attention was set on the film.

It was like she forgot he was there. Like she forgot she was supposed to cuddle beside him and let him make her feel safe.

After they finished their meals, Y/n was going to go back to her place to change and shower and return but Rin held on to the end of her shirt like a lost puppy

“Just use my bathroom…” he begged, staring at her with puppy begging eyes.

“What about clothes?”

You don’t need clothes, he wanted to say. “Just use my clothes…” After those words left his lips, he realized he may not survive if he saw her wearing his clothes.

Y/n sighed, she did not like clingy behaviors but she couldn’t bring herself to say no or deny him.

“Fine…”

His invisible puppy ears perked up and his tails wagged excitedly. “Want to shower together?”

“Don’t push your luck,” she laughed.

After her quick shower, she came out wearing a baggy shirt of his with his sweatpants.

Rin looked away and tried to distract his mind with other thoughts to prevent a boner from happening.  

His fists had been clutching tightly to his sweatpants for almost the last hour, did she not realize what she was doing to him sitting next to him wearing his clothes?

He cleared his throat for the fourth time and slowly, her chin turned towards him but her eyes couldn’t leave the screen.

The plot of the film had finally reached the truth behind all the paranormal activities.

“Y/n,” Rin whispered.

Her chin was still tilted in his direction except her eyes. “Hmm?”

“Is this film that good?” He’d heard good reviews on this film, but all he could watch was her.

She hummed after a few seconds.

“Can we cuddle?”

At last, her eyes finally left the screen and looked at him. She scooted closer and curled against his side after fully comprehending his question. “Is that why you huffin’ and puffin’ over there?”

He hummed after a few seconds, a smile on his face, finally satisfied. He hooked an arm beneath her knees and threw her legs over his lap. “This is much better.”

Ten minutes into the film, she felt his head rest against the crook of her neck and shoulder. His warm breath was steadily fanning her neck and collarbone.

He had fallen asleep.

As soon as the film was over, Y/n reached for the remote without moving too much to wake him up.

“Is it finally over?”

“Yep,” she answered, “that was one hell of a plot twist that you missed out on.”

Rin’s arms tightened around her and he hummed against her neck, rubbing his nose against her pulse. “Tell me about it, please?”

Turning off the TV, Y/n saw their reflection on the TV screen. With their height difference, his neck was awkwardly angled so his head could rest on her shoulder.

“If you’re tired, go to bed.”

He shook his head, squeezing her waist. “I’m tired but I don’t want to go to bed.” When she lifted her hand and threaded her fingers through his hair, he nearly let out a moan when her nails began massaging his scalp.

His lips pressed against her pulse in a kiss before he nipped the skin there but was immediately stopped by Y/n who shifted away and gripped his chin, “don’t mark me.”

Rin didn’t mask his disappointment and muttered, “fine.”

Her lips curved as she squeezed his cheeks, making his lips pucker, “tell me,” her voice dropped an octave lower, “why are you hard?”

With his lips still puckered he responded, “blame it on your thighs.” He pulls away from her grip and squeezes her thigh which is pressed against his cock. Ever since he pulled her legs over his lap, he couldn’t get the thought of her riding him out of his head, which was why he had to force himself to sleep the rest of the film.

His little nap only worsened as he had enough time to dream about Y/n riding him.

“It’s so… squishy…” he squeezed harder, making her squirm in his lap. “And soft…” He leaned forward until their lips were closed, “and I want to bury my face between them…” He didn’t miss the hitch in her breath. “So what do you say, Y/n?”

“Less talking and more doing, Rin…”

In an instant, she’s flipped onto her back on the couch with Rin kneeling in between her legs. His fingers grip the waistband of his sweatpants on her and frowned, “no panties?” The smirk on her face answered his question. Tugging off his sweatpants, he confirmed his suspicion. “Can’t believe you sat on my lap practically with no panties.” Hooking both her legs over his shoulders, he grins happily at her before his face disappears in between her legs.

Y/n buckled against his lips, thighs crushing against his head. “Rin,” she choked out his name and moaned loudly when two fingers thrust knuckles deep. “Oh God…”

She looked down at the man, his eyes were already on her, staring straight at her as he feasted on her.  

With his other free hand, he slipped it inside his shirt she was wearing and groaned when his palm touched her tit. She was wearing no bra beneath his shirt. His cock twitched, nearly cumming from being excited.

“Rin… Rin please…”

He suckled her clit before letting it go with a pop. “Please?”

Widening her legs, and freeing his head, she begged, “you… I want you.”

Rin lets out a shaky laugh and straightens himself. Hearing her say she wanted him nearly undoes him in ways he has never realized. He pushed his waistband down and frees his cock.

He tugs Y/n until she is flat on her back and her ass is hanging off the couch before hiking her legs over his shoulders. Rin pulls the end of his shirt to his lips and bites down on the material before guiding his cock to the wet and glossy pussy.

“Argh,” he lets out a low growl and pushes until he is fully inside her.

He starts with slow and steady thrusts, savoring how her pussy is tightly hugging his cock.

Y/n’s lewd soft moans hypnotize him making him want to slow down or else he may just cum embarrassingly fast.

“Rin – Rin,” she reaches to rub her clit but he slapped her hand away.

His shirt drops as he growled, “I’ll do it…” he spread her legs apart and became thrilled at the sight of his cock moving in and out of her pussy. His thumb found the swollen clit and he began circling it. He felt her clench tighter around his cock. “Are you going to cum?”

Y/n’s hands clutched her chest, she nodded, teeth biting down on her lower lip.

“I can’t hear you?”

“Yes!” She shouted.

He flashed her a satisfied lopsided grin before quickening his pace. Leaning forward he wrapped his other hand behind her head, bringing her lips to his.

They were both near their orgasm and with a few more thrusts they both whimpered in sync.

“Ah,” he groaned against her lips. A sheer thin of sweat is visible across his face. He opened his eyes, staring at her closed one. At some point her hands have gripped the collar of his shirt in a tight fist, keeping close to her.

Where he only wants to be.

Pressing his lips to hers, he kissed her deeply and passionately.

Y/n moaned, pulling a way to gasp for a breath. His face flushed making him adorable in her eyes…

“You…” he breathed, “you make me feel things… do things… I’ve never done it before.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her nose, “now, can we shower together?”

.

Rin hated waking up early on his days off.

But it all changed now with this woman still in his arms, in his bed, sleeping soundlessly.

After their shower, they both got ready for bed.

The moment she settled into his bed, Rin initiated his attack.

“What the - !” She exclaimed when he threw half his body on her, locking her with his limbs.

“I can’t trust you not disappearing in the morning,” he murmured, burying his face into her chest. “Don’t leave me like last time… wake me up because I want to see you go if you have to go…”

At some point through the night, they shifted, she was now laying over him.

His hand pressed against the back of her head protectively as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Morning…”  

.

.

.

E/n: This man. I would never be able to say no to this man, ever.

>>> @queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy @krooes

#haikyuu smut #haikyu x reader #haikyuu suna #suna smut #suna rintarou smut #suna x you #suna x y/n #suna x reader #Happy birthday Suna Rintarou #suna rintarou x y/n #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintarou x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader

[guilty-pleasures21]

Something like coming home

Whilst currently writing out part 2 of Injured, I have decided to post part 1 of this Jason Todd fic first. Hope you enjoy!

Part 1 - the turning point

Part 2 - keeping secrets

Part 3 - exposed!

Part 4 - dating

Warnings: explicit descriptions of sex including fingering (f receiving), blow jobs (f & m receiving) and penetration (p in v).

----------------------------------------------------------

He felt a sharp sting on his wrist and looked down to find an angry red scratch that definitely hadn’t been there before.

“What the hell?” Jason demanded. “What was that?” Ivy’s lips twisted into a wicked grin and he felt his stomach begin to drop in anticipation of her answer.

“My signature creation, of course.” She leaned back, one of her plants unfurling into a throne for her to collapse into. She crossed one leg over the other, relaxing into her seat with the confidence of someone who knew they’d already won. “In a minute, you’ll find yourself mad with desire for me, ready to do anything I ask.” Jason clenched his fists. He’d just have to make sure he took her down before the poison kicked in. He rushed forward, but was immediately pulled back by thick, twisting vines clamping around his arms and legs. He struggled against them, but they just tightened their grip, forcing him to his knees before their queen. She flicked her hair back, the auburn waves cascading over her shoulders. Not a single strand was out of place, no wild, unruly curls that would frizz up at the first touch of a brush or the first hint of rain. What? Jason shook his head, confused by the sudden appearance of the thought. He pulled on one of the vines, snarling at Ivy. But she just gazed down at him with her upturned, heavily-lidded eyes. Light brown, with flecks of green dotting the irises. Not dark. Not large and almond-shaped and studying the world with a constant curiosity. They probably didn’t glow gold in the light of the setting sun either. Jason slowed his breathing, trying to calm the slowly increasing pace of his heart. What the hell was happening to him?

“There’s no use trying to fight it, darling,” Ivy told him. She crossed one leg over the other, treating him to a comprehensive view of her curves. Curves that he’d never wrapped his arms around when she was having a bad day. Curves that would never fit against him like she’d been made especially for him. Curves that he’d never wondered what it would feel like to run his hands, no, his lips, all over-. He froze, realisation dawning upon him.

“F*ck.” Ivy laughed, a delicate laugh that was not full or warm or forced the corners of his lips to turn up at the end against his own will. Misunderstanding his response, she released him from his binds and sauntered over to him.

Etc., Jason defeats her. Sorry! I don't like writing fight scenes. 😭

“What?!” she screeched. “How did it not work?! It always works! You were supposed to fall madly in love with me!” Jason closed his eyes and hung his head.

“It did work, Ivy,” he sighed. “It just turns out that I’m already 'madly in love' with someone else.”

“You know, Jace, maybe you shouldn’t be putting yourself in life-threatening situations every night,” she suggested, her lips pulled tight in a sarcastic smile. He sighed as he slid off his jacket and hung it on the back of a chair, then turned back to her. His jaw was clenched and his eyes seemed a little glazed over as he wordlessly held his arm out to her. He looked tired and defeated, but also restless and frustrated? She grasped his hand and turned it over, finding the jagged red line on his forearm. It looked rather shallow, already on its way to scabbing over and healing. Not something that required medical attention. Was that all? She looked up at him, raising an eyebrow to convey the question. He met her gaze, but then his eyes began travelling down, lingering on her lips, her neck, her- She squeezed his hand, bringing his attention back up, and staunchly ignored the heat that began to simmer in her chest at his look.

“It was Ivy,” he informed her, prompting her mind to begin racing through all the possibilities. Was it poison? How long had it been since she’d scratched him? Was he already experiencing side effects? Oh god, oh god.

“Do you know what it was?” Her heart thudded in her chest, her eyes wide with panic. For some reason though, he remained calm, retracting his hand from her grasp and waving off her concerns.

“It was nothing. Just something about falling madly in love with her?” He shrugged his shoulders. “You know, the usual.” Oh no. Was that why he looked so distracted? Was he thinking about her? Or, no, had he done something with her? She shuddered at the thought, her stomach churning in horror.

“What happened?” she asked him reluctantly, regretting the question as soon as it fell out of her mouth. She covered her face with her hands, barely taking a breath between sentences. “No, wait. I don’t want to know. Just … just tell me nothing happened. Nothing happened, right? Oh god, please tell me nothing happened.” She peeked up at him from between her fingers, her eyes wide with fear at his anticipated response. Jason stayed silent, the corner of his lips curling into an amused smirk as he gazed down at her. Then, he took a step forward, forcing her to take one back.

“Well, the weirdest thing happened.” His voice was low, throaty, and he continued walking forward slowly, like a predator cornering his prey, knowing it had absolutely no chance of escape. “While her poison was running through my veins, all I could f*cking think about, was you.” He raised his arm, placing his hand on the wall her back was now pressed against, trapping her beneath him. His face was so close to hers that she could feel every breath he took, could see his pupils expanding as they fixed on her mouth, the blacks swallowing his irises whole. He lifted a hand to her cheek.

“I kept thinking,” he began, brushing his thumb over the full curve of her lips, “of all the sounds I could get this pretty little mouth to make.” She closed said mouth quickly, swallowing hard as he moved lower, his fingers leisurely tracing a path down her chest for his eyes to follow.

“Of all the parts of you I have yet to touch.” He tugged on the waistband of her pyjamas, his fingers brushing against her skin as he moved his lips to her ear. “Of what you would taste like, dripping wet in my mouth.”

She gasped as he pressed his lips against her neck and began making his way up to her ear, the warm, masculine scent of him washing over her entirely. She opened her mouth to protest, to tell him that this was a really, really bad idea, but then, then his hand was on her, stroking her, teasing her, his long, slender fingers taking their time exploring every inch of her.

“Jason,” she sighed breathlessly, prompting a low moan from him. The sound vibrated against her neck, sinking into her skin and curling around her very core. She bit her lip as her toes curled, and tilted her head involuntarily, giving his mouth even more access to- Wait a minute. Jason?! Her eyes flew open in horror as she came back to her senses. Oh god, oh god, oh god. She ducked out from under him and quickly slipped away, putting some distance between the two of them. Holy shit! Holy shit! And that was the only thing she could think as she looked everywhere but at him. “Okay, um … I think … Maybe you should just … Argh! Shit, Jason! I hate you so much!”

She crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly feeling so very exposed. But he didn’t seem to mind. He just smiled that infuriating smirk again, the one that heated up all her insides until she felt like she was on fire. He moved forward.

“That's not what your body's telling me." He lifted his fingers, showing her how they glistened under the light. Then, not breaking her gaze, he lifted them to his mouth, and wrapped his tongue around them, licking off the sticky liquid. Her mouth went dry.

"N-No, I …" She tried to object, tried to tell him that it was a perfectly natural response for someone to have in such a situation, but then he'd backed her into the table, his hands on either side of hers as he leaned over her, his eyes drinking her in hungrily.

"Tell me," he murmured softly, his lips travelling along her jaw now, "do you think of me, when you touch yourself?"

She sucked in a breath, bracing herself against the table as her knees went weak.

"I hate to think that I'd kept you waiting for so long." He pressed a kiss to the base of her ear, then pulled back to look at her, his heavily-lidded eyes fixed on her lips. He leaned forward and brushed them with his own. And finally, he was kissing her, long and deep, his tongue tangling with her own. He slipped a muscular arm around her waist, pulling her hips flush against his, and her hands slid up the hard planes of his chest in response, wrapping tightly around his neck. She reached into his hair, burying her fingers in the soft strands as she moved her mouth in tandem with his. She was so entirely caught up in the feeling of him wrapped around her, in the delicious taste of him, that she didn't even notice him undo the string of her pyjamas until they'd fallen to the floor.

"Jason!" she exclaimed, squeezing her legs together to maintain some semblance of privacy. But he just smiled at her as he slid his hands down her back and squeezed, forcing a whimper out of her. Then he lifted her up, as if she weighed nothing at all, and sat her on the table, spreading her legs apart and wrapping them around his waist.

“Say my name again,” he told her, in between the kisses he pressed to her neck, "like you did the first time." His hands made their way up her bare thighs and slid under her shirt, his fingernails brushing along her back in just the way he knew she liked. She clenched her jaw and cursed him in her head, pressing her lips together tightly to keep his name from falling from them. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, she wouldn’t reward him for being so … so brazen with her! So bold and shameless and, oh god, so very, very good. He pulled back, his eyes travelling over the tension in her face, reading perfectly every single thought going through her mind right now. His jaw tightened as he gripped her chin in his hand gently, bringing their mouths closer together. Her eyelids lowered in anticipation, her lips parting for him of their own volition. But then, just when she thought he was about to kiss her again, just as she felt his warm breath graze her mouth, he grinded his hips into her, drawing a deep moan from her. Her toes curled as he did it again, his grasp on her face keeping her head from falling back in ecstasy, holding her in place so he could keep his gaze fixed on hers. He was going to drive her mad, this man.

“Say my name, X,” he repeated, his voice lazy, like he knew she was going to do it anyway; it was just a matter of when. She remained silent, firm in her resolution. But then, again, the bulk of him, driving into her, sliding against her so perfectly she didn't think she'd be able to resist anymore.

“J-Jason,” she breathed, the desperation in her own voice causing her stomach to flip. Oh god, she was going to kill him. She was going to kill Ivy and then she was going to kill him and bring him back to life and kill him again. He smiled and kissed her again, parting her lips with his tongue before brushing against her own and, oh god, it really was so extremely better than anything she’d ever imagined. He broke their kiss and brought his mouth to her ear, his warm breath blowing the strands of her hair back.

“For that,” he told her softly, “I’m going to lick your p*ssy until you come in my mouth.” She bit her lip, too flustered to respond to the wicked declaration. He took her silence as an invitation to continue, lowering himself to his knees before her. Then, oh god, then, he began licking her, his tongue tracing slow circles along the length of her clit. She closed her eyes and twisted her fingers in his hair, amazed at how intimately he knew her; when to speed up and when to slow down, when to suck and when to lick. She sucked in a breath, the pressure building inside her, washing over all her other senses until finally, it exploded in waves of pleasure that turned her brain numb. He stayed there for a second when it was over, gently cleaning up the mess he’d made of her before rising to stand before her. Her insides tingled as he met her gaze, but she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that his pupils weren’t so excessively dilated anymore; the drug must have worn off. She reached up to place a hand on his shoulder, steadying him.

“Jason?” she asked him softly. “Are you okay? Has it worn off? Are we … done?” She didn’t breathe as she awaited his response, her heart beating so loudly she swore he’d be able to hear it in the thick silence that surrounded them. His eyes travelled up and down her body, taking her in like he was seeing her for the first time. Then he looked at her and smiled, a wicked smirk that flipped her stomach over.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he began, wrapping her legs around his waist and lifting her into his arms, “we’re just getting started.”

He'd carried her to her bedroom and laid her gently on the bed before taking his shirt off, his smooth, tan skin stretched firmly over his thick muscles, each line of his torso so perfectly defined as he leaned over her. She bit her lip at the sight and he grinned as he lowered himself to kiss her, his hand sliding along her waist and below her shirt as he did so. He squeezed her breast, causing her to pull on his bottom lip with her teeth and arch her back against him in response. He moved his hand to her lower back and pulled her tighter against him, groaning into her mouth as she ran her fingers along his spine, tracing the outlines of the muscles around his shoulder blades. He was so warm and so large and so … home. He was home. Her home. Jason pulled back, flashing her an exhilarated smile before he glided his hands up her torso and slipped off her shirt. And then she was bare before him, every inch of her exposed to his awestruck gaze. He sucked in a breath, speechless, and appraised her slowly, like he was trying to decide where to start. So she reached her hands up to him, gesturing for him to pull her up so she was on his lap, face to face with him. She smiled as she kissed him, a warm feeling filling her chest at the pure delight in his expression. How easy it was, to make him so happy. How wonderful it felt, to be the one to cause it. She kissed him harder, moving her waist against his, teasing him until he couldn't take it anymore and pushed her back onto the bed. He reached down to undo his belt, but she stopped him, a little bit nervous, a little bit excited. Sensing what she was thinking, he rolled over onto his back, giving himself over to her. She crawled on top of him, then took the belt off before removing his pants. She swallowed and paused. He was … wow … She’d never seen anyone before but … she had to assume he was big. The rest of him was, after all. But what should she do? How should she start? She peeked up at him from beneath her lashes, messy strands of her hair falling into her eyes as she bit her lip against the blush rising rapidly in her cheeks.

“God,” he sighed as he looked at her. “You’re so f*cking beautiful.” And then she realised: she didn’t need to be sexy or confident or perfect. She just needed to be her. That was all he wanted. She leaned over him, letting the ends of her hair tickle his thighs as she twirled her finger around him. He gasped. Besides, he already knew everything about her; knew that she didn’t really have any experience when it came to this kind of thing. She lowered her face so she could brush her tongue against the tip of him and he let out a moan, low and tormented. But he’d be patient with her. Would let her take her time exploring and learning and make sure she knew that he’d always be right there, ready to spring into action if she ever needed any help. She closed her lips around him, wrapping her tongue around his tip and gliding it down before sucking on him and pulling back.

“X,” he groaned, his breaths coming out short and shallow. She didn’t seem to need help though. No. Because she knew him just as well as he knew her, and she knew exactly how to drive him crazy. She continued licking and sucking, taking her time to familiarise herself with every inch of his anatomy. And even when he began hardening, even when he was begging her, pleading with her, she maintained her pace, slow and steady, delighting in just how much it tortured him. Then she let him go, pushing herself up and away from him before he could go over the edge.

“Do you have a condom?” she asked him. The words came out casual, relaxed, and it pleased him to know that she felt so comfortable with him - especially since it was her first time. But oh god, how could she be so calm when he was literally losing his mind right now?! He’d thought his senses would have diminished slightly once the poison left his system, but holy shit, she was amazing. Every stroke of her tongue, every brush of her fingers, every single thing she did just took his breath away entirely. He inhaled deeply, drawing enough air into his lungs to speak.

“My belt,” he told her as he pushed himself up to gesture at it, his heart finally beginning to calm down. “Third pocket to the right.” She bent over the side of the bed to pick it up and, oh god, she really was so beautiful. Her long lashes, her curly hair, her soft curves. She reached into the pocket, but raised an eyebrow as she pulled out multiple packets.

“Do you just carry these around?” He shook his head immediately, quickly discerning the drop in her mood as she narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.

“No no no no no no,” he reassured her, waving his hand emphatically. “I got them on the way here. Just for you. I just … grabbed whatever I could.” He really had. After he’d called Gordon to pick up Ivy, he’d raced to her flat, stopping only when he saw the neon lights of a pharmacy. Luckily, he’d still had enough sense in him to head in and grab a few condoms for protection. Thank god, or they would have had to stop right here. Her shoulders dropped at his admission and his muscles unclenched in response, relieved that she was at ease once again. But she kept her head lowered as she tore open the packet, preventing him from reading her expression.

“So, you just walked into a pharmacy, in full Red Hood regalia, and just bought a bunch of condoms?” She lifted her head, revealing to him the way her lips were curling at the corners in amusement. She slid the material onto him, her touch featherlight, tantalising in its tenderness. “Did anyone say anything?”

It was a hilarious image, Jason in his featureless red mask, bulky guns in his utility belt, striding into a little pharmacy with mums and teenage girls in his large combat boots, and then just throwing a bunch of condoms at the cashier. She snickered at the thought, unable to decide whether it was more adorable or more hot. But then he pushed himself onto his elbows, the muscles of his arms and torso flexing as he raised an eyebrow and fixed her with a lazy smirk. Her stomach flipped. Definitely more hot.

“Do you think anyone said anything?” Oh god. He was right. He was so, so right. No idiot would dare approach him when he was so confident and so terrifying and so … large. She moved to lie on top of him, kissing the smirk off his face like she’d imagined doing too many times before. Only now, she could actually do it. He slipped his hands around her as she wound her tongue around his and pushed him back down, his fingernails tracing idle circles along her lower back. He continued the gesture even after she pulled away and moved to rest her elbow beside his head, leaning on her hand to look at him.

“I would have,” she told him, stroking his cheek with her thumb. “I’d have been so jealous. I’d just be like ‘what? You have a girlfriend? Sigh. There go all my fantasies’.” He smiled again, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and ran his hand down her spine.

“So you do fantasise about me.” His voice was husky as he spoke and she regretted the words almost immediately after they’d left her mouth.

“No! I just …” She pushed herself up into a seat, her cheeks setting aflame as she tried to backtrack on her statement. “Just, like, kissing and stuff. Not like, not anything like this, you know?” But it was too late. He was already looking at her with the most self-satisfied expression she’d ever seen on him. It was even worse than all the times he’d beat her in Battlefront. He flipped them over so he was on top of her again, his eyes roving over her hungrily.

“Like what?” he asked her teasingly, sliding his hands up her forearms and into hers, pinning her against the bed beneath him. “Like … this?” He rolled his hips against hers, drawing a gasp from her as he did so. Then he lowered his head, his lips a hair's breadth from hers.

"Or maybe like this?" He bent down to lick her breast, his tongue winding languidly around her nipple before he sucked on it. She tried to reach up, to run her fingers through his hair and down his back, to feel every inch of him pressed against her, but his hands were still on hers, holding her down so she was at his complete mercy. "Or what about this?"

He slid her hands together, trapping both her wrists beneath his palm so his other hand was free to roam down, to between her thighs, where his fingers began stroking her with agonising slowness. She whimpered and curled her legs tighter around him, silently pleading with him to go faster, harder. But he'd get his revenge now and, oh god, it would be sweet.

“J-J-Jason,” she breathed, her back arching off the mattress as he drove her closer and closer to her edge. It felt so good, his long, calloused fingers dragging up and down her length, occasionally stopping to circle her clit and press on the sensitive nub. But he was holding back, she could feel - just so he could torture her and regain the upper hand. He was such an idiot. But he was her idiot and no one in the entire world knew him as well as she did. She bit her lip and widened her eyes, fluttering her lashes pleadingly as she looked up at him.

“F*ck,” he groaned, feeling his resolve crumble at the look on her face. “Don’t look at me like that, sweetheart.” He sped up, increasing the intensity of his movements, his fingers chasing every desperate whine and gasp that fell from her lips as he stroked and pinched and played with her. Finally, with another last raise of her hips, she came, shaking against his hand as he held it firmly against her p*ssy, helping her ride out her orgasm. She looked up at him when she’d finished, her chest heaving with shallow breaths, her face flushed and glowing with pleasure. And he didn’t think he’d ever seen her look more beautiful. He grinned and bent over to start kissing her again, releasing his grip on her so she could wrap her arms around him and pull him close. God, she felt so soft. He could have fallen asleep right then, cuddling her lush little body in his arms, but only if he wasn’t still so hard for her. He rolled his hips, rubbing his cock up and down her slick folds, lubricating himself with her c*m in preparation.

“J-Jason. Y-You know you’re … n-not going to fit, r-right?” she warned him, forcing the words out through the pleasure clouding her mind at the feeling of his large bulk pressing against her. God, she wanted to ride him, wanted to feel his deliciously thick cock pumping in and out of her as she sat on top of him, her fingers digging into his brawny shoulders as she grinded her hips into his. He chuckled, the sound rumbling through her bones and causing a shiver to run down her spine.

“I don’t have to go in all the way, princess,” he mumbled against the side of her neck, his voice low and husky. “But, don’t you think I deserve a reward too? For working so hard tonight?” He tugged on her earlobe, sucking on it gently as he let his hands wander all over her body. He groaned as he flicked her nipple, then pinched it lightly between his fingers, rolling it before cupping her entire breast in his hand. Another loud moan fell from his lips as he squeezed her appreciatively, the movements of his hips getting faster and harder as his dick begged him for relief.

She sighed, flopping over on the bed as she gave up on trying to tease him. ‘You think you deserve a reward?,’ she’d imagined herself saying as she’d flipped them over once again. ‘What you deserve, Jason Peter Todd, is a punishment.’ But he just felt too effing good, rubbing up against her so needily.

“Just … Please?” She lifted her hips slightly, silently asking him to try, to give her the relief she so painfully needed as well. He ground his teeth together and dug his fingers into her sides, thrilled by the way her body pleaded for his. He sat back and took hold of himself, tracing her entrance with his tip. Then he began easing himself inside of her, slow and careful, even though it physically ached to have to hold himself back, especially when he’d gotten in far enough to feel how f*cking tight and soft she was.

“S-So … You’re so f*cking tight, X,” he breathed, his mind going fuzzy at the delectable feeling of her engulfing him. She squirmed and writhed as he tried to push in more, yelping in pain at the unfamiliar sensation of having him inside of her p*ssy. So he stopped, swearing under his breath when he looked down and saw half of his dick nestled so comfortably inside of her. He braced his arms on either side of her, steadying himself as he pulled out then thrust himself back inside of her, only going as far as she could take him. She yelped every time he pushed in, her breasts bouncing up and down as he worked his way inside of her. F*ck, she was so, so perfect. How the f*ck had he waited so long to f*ck her? Why the f*ck had he waited so long to f*ck her?

“Gonna … Gonna f*ck you … every night, sweetheart,” he told her, her bed creaking with the force of his movements. “Until you can … take my dick into this … this f*cking tight little … p*ssy of yours.” She probably didn’t even hear him given how loudly she kept moaning and whining at the feeling of him brushing against her walls. F*ck, she was cute. But then she shuddered, her p*ssy squeezing him as she came, her walls throbbing and clenching around him desperately. He clenched his teeth, his entire body tensing up at the sensation, and then he came too, his fingers tangling in the bed sheets as the warm liquid gushed out of him. He panted heavily, trying to catch his breath once he’d finished, delighting in the way she’d flopped over beneath him, thoroughly exhausted by his actions. He bent over and pressed a kiss to her cheek, then pulled himself out of her and sank onto the mattress beside her. She sighed and turned to face him, the both of them studying each other with elated grins on their faces as they lay side by side.

“I love you too, X.”

“I love you, Jason.” Normally, the words would flow out of her mouth casually, a consistent reminder that there was at least one person who cared about him, at least one person who kept him in their heart. But now she curled into herself as she said, her lips curling into a shy smile as her eyes flickered to and from his. He grinned even harder, reaching up to cup her cheek in his hand.

Ugh! What time was it? She blinked the sleep out of her eyes, wincing at the bright sunlight filtering in between the curtains. She felt a weight on her side and rolled herself onto her stomach to look at Jason. Where he’d normally have awakened at the smallest of movements, his eyes stayed closed and his breathing remained steady. He looked so peaceful and untroubled and irritatingly cute with the white strands of hair falling over his smooth forehead and the relaxed set of his lips that she now knew the feel of all over her body. She sucked in a breath, her stomach flipping over wildly as the memory of last night - as all the memories of last night - came flooding back to her. She swallowed hard the thought, then turned back around slowly, careful to not disrupt the arm draped lazily over her waist. Maybe, if she could just get up before he did, she could convince him that it had all been one crazy dream. She assessed the open space before her, considering her two options. She could either a) try to wiggle out beneath the grasp of a trained assassin, or b) make a run for it as quickly as possible. She leapt forward without a second thought, throwing herself off the bed and crashing straight into the brick wall that was his arm, immediately pulling her back into his chest. She closed her eyes and scrunched her nose, clenching her teeth as she waited for his response.

“Did you just try to one-night stand me? In your own bedroom?” His incredulous tone was dampened by the sleep still clouding his voice as he mumbled in her ear. She clenched her teeth around the way his warm breath glided over her spine and curled around her stomach. Betrayed by her own body. Again. She huffed and turned over to face him.

“No,” she replied firmly. “I was going to try to convince you that everything that happened last night was just a hallucination because of the poison that Ivy injected you with.” She glared at him and he grinned, only causing her frown to deepen in response. He brushed her hair out of her eyes, admiring how soft and pretty she looked in the morning light.

“In that case, I guess I’d just have to kidnap her and get her to poison me everyday for the rest of my life.” She wrinkled her nose at his declaration, horrified by the very thought. Did he really like her that much? Had he always liked her that much?

“Every day?!” X smacked his arm. “You’re such a creep.” But she snuggled into his chest anyway as he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair, inhaling the familiar scent of her. And for once in his life, Jason finally understood what it felt like to come home.

#jason todd x y/n #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd smut #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood smut #red hood fanfiction #red hood

[nylwnder]

get what i want | william nylander

gif by leafsgm

a/n: i’m so sorry for taking years to post this, after promising it several times … but it’s finally here and it’s fucking filthy (because i love you all so much) so have fun and go insane mwah mwah!!!

warnings: SMUT!!!!!!!!!, plot? never heard of her, p in v, unprotected sex, overstimulation, fingering, oral (f! receiving), beard burn kink, thigh riding, chain kink, spit kink if you squint, possessive kink if you also squint, light mentions of crying during sex, lots of swearing.

word count: 3.8k

taglist: @11livpangburn , @savoies , @stars-canucks , @spine-buster , @melissasturges90 , @themotogirl , @thenhlhastakenovermylife , @allison-mchugh , @willianmylander , @boqvistsbabe , @bunting27

sitting on the bed after finishing your lunch, you grabbed your phone from the nightstand. you mindlessly scrolled on instagram for a bit, before returning any messages you had just as you heard the water from the shower turn off. he made his way out of the bathroom not too long after, and you couldn’t help but stare.

it should be forbidden truly, to be able to walk out with a towel losely hanging off of his hips. his perfectly sculpted chest in plain sight as his chains fidget with his every step. your eyes following the small droplets of water that trickle down his back, tracing every crevasse of his muscles.

he spoke and you unconsciously responded, until he turned around swiftly and the towel threatened to fall off completely, before he held it with his hand.

“hm?” he asks as you had to blink repeatedly before you could look up at him. “hmm?” you responded, not realizing the way you mimicked him. he smirked at you, “i said, it’s rude to stare.”

you scoff, “says you!” making will laugh.

“why don’t you go pick my suit while i finish up.” he says, seeing the smile creep up on your lips. it was something you quite enjoyed doing.

you hopped out of the bed, walking into the closet as will made his way back into the bathroom. you raked your fingers through all of them, analyzing all the ones he’s worn this past week. he had a good selection, two new ones even, but he wore the lilac set just last game and despite the way you were contemplating the thought of your boyfriend in it once again, you ended up chosing his green set.

holding it up, you grab the suit jacket and set the rest of it on the counter. opening it up gently, you slip it on for fun. as you moved around in front of the mirror you enjoyed the oversized look of it since you’ve been contemplating wether or not to buy a set for yourself. since you were wearing shorts, the ends of the suit covered them almost completely and showed as if you were wearing nothing but the jacket. you smiled, something to keep in mind as it’d be a fit you think your boyfriend would quite enjoy.

“having a little fashion show are we?” he mentions, fixing his hair as he walked up behind you. you began to take it off, “hm, just making sure it’ll look good all sprawled out on the bed when you’ve barely made it through the door.” he smiles, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, “is that so? i thought you like it when i have a suit on?”

“yes. but, i think we can both agree that unravelling articles of clothing-” you begin, as you grab his hands and put them to your hips, his fingers naturally hooking onto the band of your shorts and panties, “-is entirely better.” your lips connect with will’s. you might have come across as needy, as you fingers tugged in his hair, but you didn’t care.

“mmm don’t tempt me” he mumbles as he breaks the link of your lips. you let out a little whine, “we have enough time” you mutter back. “there’s never enough time for you, love.” he says, lifting you and placing you on the bed.

laying down, he hovers over you. “i’m going to be late.” he mentions, as he pulls down what he agrees are in the way. “you’ll be fine.” you state as your fingers tug on his boxers. “you better be right”

you smile, as his lips attack your neck and his hands roam under your crew neck and all over your body. you let out an airy moan as his fingers find your nipples, but that’s before he pulled your sweater off as well, and his mouth latches on. your back arches as his hands roll down your sides, your hips and then to your ass. he squeezes before his hands find their home between your thighs. you’re shut up from a moan as willy kisses you while playing around with your wetness.

“always ready for me, aren’t you?”

you merely nod when his thumb begins to rub circles on your clit and two of his fingers slip through your entrance. “mmmm yeah” you moan.

your fingers continue to tug at his boxers, will letting you drag them down. you were very aware of his bulge, and when his cock slaps against his stomach you’re thankful you were able to convince him.

“is this what you were needy for? what you tease me for?” you look up at him, clenching around nothing but the void. “please will,” your hand raking down his v-line to give him some strokes “fuck me” you whine, getting up just a tad so you could pull him down by his chains with you. he kisses you as your legs habitually wrap around his waist letting his cock push in.

your eyes roll back, that’s exactly what you wanted. your fingers immediately find his still moist hair, willy taking no time but to find a brisk pace. “fuck yeah just like that” you plead, as you move with his every thrust. willy’s mouth finding home in your breasts once again, making his beard rub against your silky skin which only added on top of all the pleasure.

you couldn't stop clenching around him, and you knew you were breaking him by the second. so willy finds your clit, and he’s ruthless with his fingers. you bite your lip to mask your moans, even nipping on his shoulders. “cum for me, love. oh god i fucking love it when you clench around me”

whimpering as the coil snaps in your belly you kick his lower back to go impossibly deeper into you. he lightly snickers, before his cock twitches and he kisses your cheek as he rides both of your highs out. “yeah that’s my good girl” he whispers, grabbing your hips and continuing to thrust into you.

your head is turned to the side, your eyes closed, as you feel like his pace never softens. your hands reach out to grip his forearms as your moans don’t stop and you can feel the beginning of your second orgasm rushing in. that’s until he stops all at once, and you can’t help but cry out at the emptiness. you take a deep breath as you catch his teasing. “mmm later, älskling.” well, of course.

kneeling up just like him you kiss him and nip at his lip. “hey google, what time is it?” you ask your home device. hearing her response you smirk at willy, “hmm i stand corrected.” he merely slaps your ass before he gets up, cleans himself and gets ready. you laid down on your tummy, not bothering to put your clothes back on just yet.

when will comes out, he bites his lip and groans just the softest bit as you stare innocently back at him. not forgetting to flutter your lashes. “you’re in for it later” he warns.

you felt your cunt throb at his tone.

—

you sat on your couch, blanket in hand, as you saw the last few minutes of the game pass on the clock. “and the leafs go home tonight with their third win of the week” the broadcasters say as the boys crowd to head pat sammy. you smile as you watch your boyfriend hug jt and the other boys. they managed to pull through with another win despite a pretty persistent game. the credit goes to not only ilya but also to the game winning goal scorer: william. the same man who you’ll be waiting to come through your door once again, so you can show him just how proud — and worked up — you are.

you waited around watching the post game coverage, fidgeting in your sweatpants. closer to the time you know william would be in his car, you decided to get up and strip yourself from the sweats. you figured you’d save him the time. so you sat back down on the couch, with a crewneck of willy’s and just your baby pink panties underneath.

just as you draped the blanket on your lap, willy unlocks the door. walking in while taking off his coat and shoes, his eyes find yours. he sees how dark they are, but you didn’t budge. he walked up to the back of the couch, letting your head fall back so he could lean down and kiss you. he was quick to pull you close, turning you around so you were kneeling and facing him, reaching for his kisses once again.

letting your fingers run through his hair, he looked down and saw the thin pink fabric. “mmm nice to see you too baby” he says, lips forming into a smile. “you took too long” you whined at him, as you felt everything to be dreadfully longer than usual.

he snickered, his hands running down to rest on the small of your back. you desperately kissed him again, not knowing how much longer you could wait till he could pin you down on your bed and make you cry. “oh what a needy girl you are”

you smiled, as he gripped your ass and pulled you up and off of the couch. he carried you to the bedroom, your kisses never leaving his warm skin. throwing you down on the bed, he bites his lip at the site — resulting in you letting out a cheeky giggle. he follows quickly after tossing away his suit jacket, choosing to take off your sweater at the same time. his lips trail over you some more, leaving wet kisses on the curves of your breasts before going down and kissing your stomach.

you shiver when his mouth gives you small pecks on your thighs before he lays another on your clothed cunt. you can’t hold back a moan even at the barely present touch. he looks up at you smirking at your squirmy state. “got you all worked up from my goal, didn’t i?” he states more so than asks, taking his sweet sweet time to discard your wet panties. you're practically rolling your eyes.

“well i’ve been thinking about you all evening. how i left your tight pussy dripping wet. figured i’d give you what you wanted so bad earlier.” you whimpered. “a good girl should get what she deserves, don’t you think?” his voice grew lower as he looked up at you, your pussy throbbed again. “yeah-yeah she should.” he hums.

“the real question is whether she can actually take it?” he threatens, as his fingers graze your cunt and he quickly nips on your buds. fuck you’re screwed you thought. making his way down he hauls your hips with him. he gave one bold swipe from your already dripping hole to your clit and you let out a small gasp.

his tongue moved quickly, flicking softly at your clit until rotating to lap at your entrance as he groaned at the taste of you. his nose bumping perfectly into your clit, he was feasting like it was his last meal on earth.

your body was squirming, your hips trying to grind on his mouth if you weren't attempting to close your thighs around willy’s head. that made his beard scrape against your inner thighs even more, making pleasure curl throughout your body.

he knew, will always knew. so he purposely moved his face side to side, painting red patches on your velvety skin. the two different feelings numbed your mind. you pressed your head back into the pillow as your free hand reached to grip his hair aggressively. moans spilled into the room and you pushed him closer into you as you chased your orgasm. “mmm—don’t stop—fuck will”

willy’s cock throbbed against his dress pants as he saw your back arching from the bed and felt your nails digging into his scalp. he groaned into you again and the vibrations sent you spiralling while his teeth teased your bundle of nerves. he sucked hard on it and you cried out his name.

when his three fingers slipped inside, no problem, the coil snapped and your wetness soaked his hand and mouth. he cleaned you up, lapping at the most unholiest drink. his beard rubbed against your pussy and you whimpered at the sensitivity. he did it again before he kissed your clit and connected his damp lips with yours.

you moaned at the taste of yourself, and willy smirked. “delicious, no? fuck i can eat you out for days, princess.”

you sat up and grabbed his neck to pull him in for another kiss. you needed something to ground you and you didn’t know what else to do other than kiss him until both of your lips were puffy and pink. willy gripped your ass and pulled you close to him, he was still dressed and you didn’t think that was right.

your soft hands unhooked the last few buttons on his shirt, he had the first three open anyways. willy slipped it off as you rubbed your hands against his chest, down his stomach and traced his v-line like he loves. your fingers targeted his zipper next, “take it off” you mumbled. he smirked in response, getting off of the bed he dragged his pants down and threw them in the direction of his jacket. he walked back to the bed but you dragged down his boxers before he could get back on, “this especially.”

his cock was shiny, precum lacing the pink tip. you licked your lips, his dark eyes steady on you. he had the whole night planned out already, and you could only picture how you would already feel after the first round.

he sat down beside you, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you into his open lips. as you leaned in, your leg draped over one of his legs before william folds it upwards. you gasped, feeling how the stern muscles of his thick thighs pushed right under your wet cunt. “you like that?”

what a stupid question you thought. as if he doesn’t see just how much you stare — in sweats, in dress pants, in jeans, so be it. you thought about them a rotting amount of times everyday. and oh how you’d be lying if you didn’t physically ache over how much you wanted to be writhing on top of them.

you scoffed at him. “can i?” you ask softly, nipping at the inside of your lip as you look at him with your needy eyes. he smiled as he grabbed your hips and started a steady rhythm for you.

your hands found his shoulders as you rocked back and forth. willy gave you kisses on your collarbone, “that’s it, keep going” he was eating up your little moans and whines as you glistened his thigh. nipping down on your soft skin, he flexed his leg. “oh fuck” you yelped as your head fell back at the action.

“eyes on me, darling” he demanded, and you did so. looking at him as he flexed again and your lips fell open. “come on baby girl, soak these thighs” you pull his head into your chest at his words. gripping a handful of his hair as you moaned and twitched. he flexed again, and god forbid if his thumb so happened to rub a circle on your clit. but it did, and he didn’t have to do many before you were chanting his name.

keeping his thigh nicely pushed up against you, he guided you as your juices dripped down his leg. he groaned at the sight, and how you didn’t stop cumming, and how it began falling on the bed sheets. “what a fucking good girl.” he moaned out, seeing how flushed your face got with the lazy last rolls of your hips.

you stopped at the tremble in your own thighs, your head falling on his shoulder and kissing the crook of his neck. your hands found his upright cock and stroked him. he grunted in your ear, feeling how it twitched in your snug grip.

you kissed once again, your forehead against willy’s. “i need you. inside of me” you mumbled into his lips. “please baby”

“my pleasure” he states as he rolls you over. as you get on all fours willy kisses your shoulder, “gonna be my pretty little slut, are you?” he whispers in your ear.

“always am.” you shoot back and will snickers.

he guided himself to you, purposely avoiding your entrance as he teased. sliding his tip to your clit then back down your slit before he slides in seamlessly. a loud throaty moan threatening to escape at how stretched you felt. how you always felt.

he pumped in and it of you devilishly long and slow. as he dragged out every thrust, he would fully exit before retentering. you were dying at the inconsistency of his pace. “faster willy, please.” you begged, “i can’t take it much longer”

he had a smirk plastered on his smug face. he was fucking with you, oh indeed. but it was your choice: either be teased and edged the whole night or well…

he pushes you down, pinning you hard, as he buries his cock in you once again. he pushed down on your lower back as he felt like he could enter not only way deeper than before, but more predominantly. and you expected it.

he thrusted in you at a more familiar pace before he increased it more and more. your face found home in a pillow you had dragged down to you from above. gnawing on it, your moans were still hard to muffle.

the sound of skin slapping skin had your eyes rolling, as his hands sternly gripped your hips into his own. willy could be found groaning as well, even nipping his own lip to try his best to outlast you. but it was hard as you clenched around him every time he was balls deep.

though he easily kept an angle that made you repeatedly chant things like “fuck fuck fuck fuck ugh fuuuck” and he hit it visiously.

“feels so good willy so fucking good”

“i know baby girl. let go for me” he mumbles against your shoulder, placing wet kisses and nibbles.

and so you did, again. feeling the rush of pleasure consume you as willy hushes your whines and moans by pulling you up to him. resting on his chest, your head lolled to the side he held you close as your high faded away.

his hand moved from your neck and gently made its way down your curves. his fingers found your soaking pussy and he groaned at the feeling of his fingers playing with all the gathered juices.

you turned to lay on your back and willy followed. but you knew he hadn’t cummed yet and the look in his eyes told you enough. he kissed your neck, “do you think you can take another hm? wanted it so bad earlier” he teased, though he kept a more gentler tone as he understood your overstimulated state.

you looked at him, playing with his hair. despite knowing just how sensitive you’ll be in a moment, fuck was this so hot. “you know i’ll always be ready for you. this is your perfect little tight pussy. it’s yours willy all fucking yours”

“that’s it princess, it’s all mine.” he says with a smile, taking his cock and thrusting right in. he lifted your hips high in the air as he started at a firm pace once again. he hit that faultless spot deep inside in less than a second. you couldn’t help but scream out a series of expletives, as the oh too familiar haze felt like you were starting to lose all possible control.

he spat on your clit, which was exhibited for his full disposal. using his thumb to push harsh circles. your lip was on the verge of extracting drops of crimson red with the way you were biting down on it. willy continued mumbling things to you but you were in no capability of hearing, understanding or responding to any of it. he was impelling you to the verge of your fourth orgasm in just the bit of time of his return. all you could do was scream.

you ate at the blazing pleasure from both his vigorous hands and his thick cock, giving into it as you gripped willy as hard as you possibly could. william could feel himself twitching at the way your saturated pussy clamped around him. it felt so cruel as his cock ached of its own release.

will’s thrusts never stopped after your high, as he dropped your hips from his high grip. he kept his hands under your knees, widening your thighs far apart. you felt the burn in your eyes as willy wiped your cheek. “i’m so proud of you, baby. taking me so fucking good like the cockslut you are. you can do it, just another for me, princess.”

“y-yeah, yes, ye” you whined out, fuck you didn’t even know what you were saying. he was pounding into you, your boobs jumping with every move of his. so did his chains, in which you gripped, yanking as willy followed down with them. you wanted a kiss, letting willy taste your warm and salty tears. when he moved upwards, your hands kept at the cold metal around his neck.

willy’s deep grunts infatuated you. a bruise would most likely be found on your hips and thighs as he kept you as wide open as you could for him. his hips began to stutter, as your sensitivity only got worse. your thundering heartbeat in your ear and the fire in your lower stomach making the world around you a blur. your chest heaved and drips of sweat fell from willy’s chest. “cum-gonna-cum fuck yeah so fucking close- shit” you moaned out, “come willy, come for me”

“mm baby i can’t help with that fluttering cunt of yours”

with one last twitch, and one last sloppy thrust, you cry out again, now at the feeling of his warm seed coating you. as he pulled out, your conjoined cum dripped out of your pink pussy. willy bit his lip before he decided to dive down and lap you clean. you winced at his flat tongue, gripping the sheets for dear life. “jesus christ william”

he came back up as he kissed your cunt before kissing up towards your mouth again. “you’re so perfect. love how you can take what you tease for all the time” he says in your ear as he moves to the side, letting you follow him to rest on his chest. you smile,

“i get what i want.”

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[ramblingoak]

Hang On

Mushy May in Lucifer's Hollow: Day 8 - Sex Turning Into Making Love

Mountain x Rain

This fic is set in an alternate universe in a town called Lucifer's Hollow. For Mushy May I'll be using the prompts to post little snippets of life for the humans and ghouls that live there 💙 Thank you to @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together!

~ In Lucifer's Hollow Mountain has a little farm and sells flowers at the local farmer's market. Rain meets him there while selling his art. ~

Warnings: desperate Rain, smut, nsfw 18+ mdni, 900 words (thank you to @ghuleh-recs for the dividers 💙)

“That’s it baby, want you ready for me.”

Rain tore at the sheets by his head, whimpering as Mountain continued to stroke his thumb around his hole.  He was clenching around nothing, desperate for Mountain’s fingers.  For anything.  

“P-please, I’m good, I’m good.  I can take it ahh!”

Two thick, wet fingers pushed past his rim and Rain’s brain stopped working.  They stroked back and forth along his walls, spreading the lube around.  When Mountain started to pull them out Rain whimpered again but the earth ghoul just scissored them at his entrance, working him open.  

“Patience, duckweed, I’ll take care of you.”  Mountain pushed his fingers as deep as he could while he leaned forward and licked at Rain’s mouth.  “I want to hear those pretty noises of yours while you’re hanging off my cock.”  

Rain nodded, reaching up with a shaking hand to grip Mountain’s chin so he’d stay still.  He had not been prepared for the filthy words coming out of Mountain’s mouth.  They just made holding in the words Rain desperately wanted to say even harder.  He pressed a chaste kiss to his lips but it was only for a moment.  Soon he was biting at the earth ghoul’s mouth, his tongue demanding entrance.  They licked and sucked on each other’s tongues while Mountain continued to pump his fingers in and out of Rain’s hole.  

He heard the opening of the lube bottle seconds before a third finger pressed at his rim and Rain fell back onto the pillows as Mountain worked it inside of him too.  The sound of them squelching in and out was loud in the room, the only other sounds were Rain panting and the low growls rumbling in Mountain’s chest.  His green eyes were fixed at his fingers, entranced by the sight of them moving in and out of Rain.  Lucifer, Rain didn’t think he’d ever been stretched this wide and the fingers were nothing compared to Mountain’s cock. 

He couldn’t wait any longer. 

“Now, now, now please now!”

Mountain must have become just as desperate because he immediately pulled his fingers out of him, only pausing briefly to watch Rain’s hole flex around nothing.  He covered his fingers with more lube and stroked his hand roughly up and down his cock.  Rain felt like drooling at the sight of it, his legs spreading wider involuntarily.  He had never wanted something so bad in his life.  

When Mountain pressed the tip against his hole, Rain reached up and gripped one of Mountain’s horns.  Their foreheads fell together and they both watched Mountain’s cock push into Rain, his rim stretching around the thick length of him.  The water ghoul’s body accepted him like he was always meant to be a part of him.  Rain knew his face was wet, he knew he was crying and being pathetic but he couldn’t help it.  His body, his heart, his very soul was so full right now.  

He loved Mountain so much. 

“Hey, hey look at me.  Rain?”  Rain managed to open his watery eyes and meet Mountain’s own glistening green ones.  Mountain laughed, bringing his big hands up to delicately hold Rain’s face.  “I love you.”

“Yeah?”  Rain could barely talk he was so chocked up, but when Mountain nodded he started blabbering, “Fuck, I love you too.  So much, maybe too much I don’t know but I can’t help it.  You’re amazing and beautiful and I fell in love with you as soon as I saw you and—“

“Rain, Rain.  Duckweed, you’re stealing all my lines.”  Mountain laughed while he kissed all over Rain’s face, finally leaning back to give him a bright grin.  Rain flexed his hand around the ghoul’s horn to try to pull him close again but Mountain didn’t let him.  “I love you but if I don’t start moving I’m gonna lose my mind.”

Rain could only nod up at him, letting go of his horn so he could clench the sheets by his head again.  Mountain ran a rough hand down his chest and stopped right on his belly, right above where his cock was resting inside of him.  Slowly and carefully he pulled out, groaning when Rain’s body clenched around him.  He stopped right before he was completely out and then pushed back in.  One slow steady push that had Rain gasping and swearing in Ghoulish.  

“Fuck, Mountain.  I’m not delicate, I won’t oh fuck, I won’t break.”

“No, no you won’t.  Not tonight at least.”  Mountain dropped low over him, the movement causing his cock to press in as deep as it could go.  When Rain’s mouth fell open Mountain licked into it, the kiss more demanding than any other they had shared.  He pulled away after a moment and Rain dragged his eyes open to meet his gaze and to see the feral grin on his face.  “But there’s always tomorrow.”

“Just ah, just tomorrow?”

“And the day after that.”  He wrapped his hands around Rain’s thighs and pushed them up towards the water ghoul’s chest.  “For as long as you let me.”

“F-forever, fuck!  Forever.”  Rain grabbed Mountain’s other horn, tugging his head close so he could kiss him.  He whispered that he loved him again into his mouth before letting go and falling back onto the pillow.  “Now fuck me.”

Mountain grinned, his fangs and bright green eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

“You better hang on, duckweed.”

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#mountain x rain #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band fanfic #mushy may 2024 #tales from lucifer's hollow #mountain ghoul #rain ghoul

[javier-pena]

interlude: compersion

Pairing: Katie x f!reader (Katie x Javier Peña)

Word Count: 3.6k

Rating: Explicit (🤭🤭🤭)

Summary: Katie comes home from work with a story to tell.

Warnings: established polyamorous relationship (and navigating what this means) | fingering | dirty talk | a bit of hair pulling | mentions of alcohol | semi-public sex (mentioned) | unprotected p in v sex (mentioned)

Notes: So the thing is I actually wrote this in August 2023, and I wanted to not post it right away for reasons that are too complicated to discuss in this short note. This is set after Triumvirate, Part 4 which I obviously haven't written yet, but I woke up this morning with this strong urge to post this short drabble, so here it is. As always, I want to thank Dani @alexturner for encouraging me to work on this story, and for still indulging something that started as a hungover idea literally years ago. I had a lot of fun reading through all your excited comments this morning that you left almost a year ago!!

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***

“It was fine.” That’s the answer Katie gives you to the question whether she had a nice day at work. “No, not really,” she answers whether anything exciting happened. “He’s going to be late … paperwork.” It’s curious how her voice breaks when she says that.

You’re in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for a light salad. Katie is there too, still in her office attire, nursing an ice-cold beer bottle, nervously picking at the label. Your gaze definitely isn’t fixed to her throat every time she takes a sip, and it most definitely doesn’t get stuck on the exposed flesh that appears between the silk fabric of her blouse when she stretches her back.

Katie is agitated tonight, as if there is something on her mind she wants to tell you but can’t find the words for. You’ve been there before – the first time she killed a man, coming home terrified of you looking at her differently now. The one time her estranged best friend from college died and she couldn’t handle the grief on her own. And the one time Javi shouted at her in front of the entire team and her heart cracked a tiny bit (this one was easily fixed – Javi made it up to her and it hasn’t happened since). It just takes her a while to say the words, but you know she’ll eventually find them, and you’ll be there for her once she does.

“I picked up this at the market today,” you change the subject, holding up a borojó. “I thought we could try it after dinner.”

Katie looks at the green fruit warily, and her calculating gaze makes you laugh. “What?” Katie challenges.

“Nothing … your … you look at everything like it’s a problem to be solved. It’s endearing.”

Katie’s cheeks darken with a flush. “I was just wondering how we should go about cutting it open.”

“One step at a time,” you say, putting down the knife you’re holding and wiping down your hands. “Did something happen at work today? Something you need to talk about?”

Katie grimaces. “I can never hide anything from you, can I? I mean, Javi is … that’s one thing, that’s his job. But you …”

“Call it female intuition.”

Katie rolls her eyes, but settles them on you with a loving gaze. “Later,” she says.

You nod. “So something did happen then?”

“Oh my God.” Katie laughs one of her mesmerizing laughs that doesn’t leave anyone cold. “You bitch.”

Your heart skips a beat. “Thanks. That’s something I learned from Javi.”

Katie smiles at you, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me now?” you try again.

Katie stands up from the small kitchen table with a sigh, leaves the bottle of beer behind. “It’s nothing bad,” she says, leaning against the kitchen counter next to you. “I’m honestly not even sure why I feel so nervous talking about it.”

You watch her, waiting for her to continue.

“Javi and I … we …” Katie takes a deep breath, lowers her gaze to the kitchen floor.

This beginning could be followed by a million different outcomes, infinite possibilities. Your heart beats faster now, some of Katie’s nervousness rubbing off on you. You feel her naked arm next to yours, her bare skin hot to the touch. She rubs her neck, brushing against your arm in the process.

“Today,” Katie starts again, “Javi called me into his office.” She lowers her hand, grips the kitchen counter behind her like she needs all the support she can get. “We did it.” She stumbles over the words, and then her gaze is on you, searching your face for any kind of reaction.

You’re not quite sure how you’re supposed to react. “You did what?” you ask.

“Oh,” Katie whispers, pulls a grimace, buries her face in her hands. When she looks back up, she’s bright red. “We had sex.”

Several things happen at once. You laugh out loud with relief because you had expected the worst, even if you didn’t show it. You laugh because Katie, your Katie, the most confident, the most outspoken, the sexiest woman you know, struggled to admit she fucked her boyfriend. And you feel a tingling sensation at the base of your spine, one that wasn’t there a second ago.

“Okay,” you say, licking your lips. “Okay,” you repeat.

“I know we agreed to be open about it all.” Katie is stumbling over the words again. “I don’t want you to think I was trying to keep it a secret.”

“I wasn’t thinking you were,” you assure her, trying to ignore the tingling that’s growing stronger. “It’s not like I don’t have sex with Javi when you’re not around … it’s not like we don’t have sex when he isn’t.”

“I know,” Katie sighs. “But it’s …”

You know what she can’t bring herself to say. It’s the first time Javi and Katie had sex and you weren’t there, something that was bound to happen sooner rather than later. And yes, you were scared of it, at least to an extent, scared of them discovering they don’t need you around at all, scared to become the third member of a pair. By the looks of it, Katie was also nervous about this moment, about your reaction to it.

Your reaction is not what you had expected it to be.

“What was it like?” you ask, leaning in so closely you can feel her nervously exhaling.

“What?” she asks, her breathless voice not so different from what she might have sounded like in Javi’s office today.

“Go on,” you say, kissing her neck right where you can see her pulse quiver, “tell me.”

You feel her swallow hard beneath a second kiss. “I …”

It’s such a rare thing for Katie to be at a loss for words. It’s such a rare thing for you to have the upper hand. You grab her jaw, move her head, so more of her neck is exposed, and relish her sharp intake of breath. She shifts against the kitchen counter, her hands searching for purchase, as you kiss her skin softly, slowly, trying to show her that there is no reason at all to be nervous about your reaction, no reason to be ashamed about letting your boyfriend fuck her.

“There isn’t much to tell,” she finally says, a rasp in her voice. “It’s not like we planned for it to happen … it just did.”

You nip at a tendon in her neck. “How did it happen, Katie?”

You using her name like that makes her tremble. “He wanted to see me about some reports that had been misfiled.” She groans as soon as the words are out of her mouth. And you know what she’s thinking – there are sexier ways to tell this story. You let go of her jaw, place your hand on her naked thigh just below the hem of her skirt, and stroke her lightly.

“Was he very angry at you for misfiling those reports?” you tease, unable to stop yourself from smiling against her neck.

An airy laugh escapes her throat and you feel her relax against the kitchen counter. “I would never misfile anything. It was someone else.”

“And did you tell him that?” you ask automatically, feeling lightheaded from breathing in Katie’s perfume, lightheaded from the happiness you’re feeling right this very moment.

“I did, and he …,” She giggles when your fingers on her thigh brush against a ticklish spot. “… He looked at me with that funny look he always gets when someone tells him he’s wrong.”

You know that look all too well, the furrowed brow, the slightly parted lips, as his brain is trying to process what he has just heard. Katie has her eyes closed now, as if she’s right back there with Javi in his office. She shakes back her hair, her dark curls tumbling down her back, and you kiss your way along her jaw, toward her lips.

“He …,” she clears her throat, “he walked around his desk, past me, and shut the door. I vividly remember the sound of the lock snapping shut because it was so quiet after that. And it was clear I wasn’t leaving until we had resolved the issue.”

“Do you think,” you start between kissing her chin and the corners of her mouth, “that the whole thing was just an excuse to get you to come to his office?”

Katie laughs again and your heart summersaults. It’s your favorite sound in the world. “No, he had the reports right there on his desk.”

You huff in disappointment.

“But I’m sure he knew I hadn’t been the one to misfile them,” she adds.

You want to kiss her so badly but you know it would break the tension between you. And you would be giving her what she wants without her having given you anything so far. With a heavy heart you draw back, even remove your hand from her thigh, and lean against the counter. She opens her eyes, the lids fluttering with confusion.

“What happened then, Katie?”

You watch as a flush creeps up her neck and into her cheeks. “He came closer to me again, still asking about those reports.”

“And you …?”

“I was also focused on the reports.” The sly grin on her lips tells a different tale.

“I’m starting to think nothing happened after all,” you say, mirroring Javi in her story, stepping in front of her so she’s trapped between your body and the kitchen counter.

Katie’s sly grin grows wider. “Oh, you’re mistaken.”

“Then why not just tell me?” you ask. You pop open the highest button on her blouse, revealing some of that flushed skin.

Katie lowers her eyes to your hand hovering above the next button. Doubt flickers across her face before she answers, “It really wasn’t all that interesting.”

The next button comes undone, and now you can see the top of one of her black, lacy bras. You wonder if you’re the second person to see it today. “I still don’t quite understand how you got from talking about those reports to …” You’re absent-mindedly tracing the outline of one of Katie’s breasts over her blouse, and before you can finish the sentence, she suddenly flinches.

“Please.” Her whimper sets the base of your spine on fire.

You cup her breast, not surprised to find her nipple rock-hard beneath your fingers. “Quid pro quo, Katie,” you whisper into her ear.

“Okay.” Katie exhales shakily, but you still notice how she straightens her back just a tiny bit so your fingers come a tiny bit closer to squeezing her nipple. “He kept going on about those stupid reports and I began to feel frustrated because he didn’t believe me. So finally, I snapped, ‘This isn’t about those reports at all, is it?’ And he just stood there, right in front of me, and I could watch the penny drop.”

You reward Katie by squeezing her breast, rolling her clothed nipple between your thumb and forefinger. She rewards you with a strangled moan.

“I don’t know if it was all a set-up or if he really had no idea what he was doing,” Katie goes on, “but the next thing I knew he had his hand wrapped around my wrist, and my wrist pinned to his desk behind me, and he said, ‘You should be more careful how you talk to me’.”

You kiss her neck, just below her ear. “Did that turn you on?”

“Yes,” she admits breathlessly, and you have to fight hard to keep down a whimper. “But we were in his office and I … I didn’t think … we had never …”

No, of course they hadn’t. They didn’t want to start any rumors about Javi cheating on you with the new, pretty girl at the office. But you also didn’t want them to hold back on your account. You let go of Katie’s breast just to place your hand back on her thigh, your fingers brushing her skin under her skirt, higher than they had been before.

“What did you tell him?” you ask, feeling as if you’re right there with them in Javi’s office. If you focus, you can even smell the cigarette smoke on her.

“He … I …,” Katie stammers, then bites her lip as your fingers brush the inside of her thigh. “I told him I’m going to talk to him whichever damn way I please if he keeps accusing me of lying. And then …” She’s bright red now, a sheen of sweat is covering her brow. “And then he …” She swallows. “He pushed his hand beneath my skirt and right between my legs and when he pulled it back out, his fingers were … they were coated …”

Your fingers are right there too, brushing up against her underwear, then pushing the fabric aside to find her soaked. She moans loudly at your touch, right into your ear, and when you pull away her eyes widen in protest until she sees it's to show her how wet she is for you.

“Did you make the same pretty sounds for him?” you ask.

She shakes her head. “I couldn’t. He … he was kissing me.”

“Was he now?” You kiss the corner of her mouth, and her hand flies up to wrap itself around your arm. You kiss the other corner and she squeezes.

“God,” she groans. “What more do you want from me?”

“The whole story.” You kiss the tip of her nose. “Every.” You kiss her temple. “Little.” You kiss her cheek. “De -” Before you can finish, she has the collar of your shirt bunched up in her first, and her lips are on yours, hungrily taking and taking and taking. You push up against her until your bodies are molded together by forces much stronger than you. You feel her shake against you, you feel mounting pressure between your legs, you feel her tongue brush up against yours like she hasn’t kissed you in years. All you can think about is grabbing her hand and shoving it down your pants but … not yet.

You push yourself off her and she immediately follows, so you grab her hair at the back of her neck and pull her back. “Come on, tell me the rest.”

Fire flickers in her eyes for a brief moment as she considers protest, rebellion even, but then she realizes there’s no use. You have the upper hand. “There isn’t much … I don’t know …,” she says between deep breaths. “It all happened so fast.”

Your lips are back on her neck as you kiss a trail toward her chest, toward the skin you exposed there earlier. When you cup and squeeze one of her breasts lightly, she arches her back.

“The reports, they … he just pushed everything off his desk,” Katie continues. “I think I … I flinched because it sounded so loud, I was sure someone would come … or maybe I should’ve thought that, I don’t know. I don’t remember, I just remember him lifting me onto the table.”

You reward Katie by reaching under her skirt and pressing two fingers against her clothed clit. She presses herself into the touch, rolls her hips, her eyes firmly closed now.

“He just … his pants were undone, he pushed them halfway down his thighs, I was shoving my skirt higher up. He … he didn’t even take off … he just pushed my underwear aside and then he was inside of me.”

Now you do whimper at that image, as you think of Javi’s naked butt, his tie that is coming undone, of Katie’s feet wrapped around his waist, only one still stuck in a shoe, of them both eagerly pushing and pulling at each other.

Katie opens her eyes and looks at you, waiting for your next question. It doesn’t come to you; you have no idea what else you could ask, your brain preoccupied with what she has told you already, your body preoccupied with screaming for release. Her hand finds its way past the waistband of your trousers, between your legs, and now it’s your turn to lean into her touch. She doesn’t tease, pushes past the waistband of your underwear too, and makes you tremble with her fingers on your clit. You’re soaked, you know you are, and it doesn’t seem to surprise her. She just rolls your clit beneath her fingers, mimics your movements between her own legs. When you slow down, she slows down, when you push the tip of your finger inside of her, she does the same. It’s utter bliss and torturous hell at the same time, and if you’re not careful, you won’t get to hear how the story ends.

You grab her wrist, pull her hand out of your pants. “Later,” you say, kissing the tip of each of her fingers, tasting yourself on her skin.

“He put his palm over my mouth,” Katie continues, “because I couldn’t keep quiet.” Her eyes are bright and shiny with arousal and they don’t leave yours for a second. “I had my hands on his shoulders, I was … he kept pushing me up the table with each thrust. I could hear the drawers rattle. It was … I think we were too loud.”

“But that’s how you like it, isn’t it?” you tease, pushing two fingers into her at the same time.

“Yes,” she moans so loudly you can probably hear it floating out of the open kitchen window and down onto the busy street below. “But he was so quiet. Just a few grunts. I wanted to hear him, I … But before I could do anything, I was …”

Now she averts her gaze, and you see the tips of her ears turn pink.

“He just … God,” she groans, and you’re not sure if it’s because you hit that spot inside of her or because of the memories. “He let go of my mouth and kissed me and called me his good girl.”

“You are a good girl, Katie,” you tell her and kiss her sweaty brow. “You’re always so good for us.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” she curses, gripping your shoulders. She’s about to come, you can feel it, you can hear it in the way she pants, so you slow down. She whines, a sound that happens completely involuntarily, but she doesn’t complain.

“What about Javi?” you ask, your voice quiet now. You can feel your mouth go dry, and you’re not quite sure why.

“He pulled out and lifted me off the table. I thought we were done.” Somewhere between those pants there’s an airy giggle. “We weren’t.”

“Of course you weren’t,” you say, and kiss her brow again.

“He turned me around, pinned one of my wrists to my back. I could feel him shove my skirt back up my hips, and then he …” Her breath hitches.

“You’re saying the words this time, Katie.” You brush your palm softly against her clit.

With a steady voice, she says, “He pushed into me, then pushed my chest down onto the desk.”

You feel her flutter around your fingers at that memory, and your body responds with an aching emptiness of its own. “Did he come inside of you?” you ask.

She nods.

“Say it,” you demand.

“He fucked me in that position but it didn’t take long. He … It was just a few thrusts and then he was coming.”

“What did it feel like?”

Her eyes widen as she stares at you, shock and arousal lighting up her eyes.

“What did it feel like,” you repeat, “knowing anyone could have walked in on you at any time?”

“Please,” Katie whimpers, pushing down onto your fingers with trembling hips.

“Tell me, and I’ll let you come.”

She’s so fucking close, you can feel her tighten around your fingers. But she nods and licks her lips. “Liberating,” she says, and you know exactly what she means. “I came again when I felt him come inside of me, when he finally let go and swore and gripped me tighter. I could hear voices outside on the corridor, and he could hear them too, and he thrust up into me a few more times to get me to make some sounds. He …”

You’re so close to Katie now you’re practically straddling her leg. She holds you close with a hand on your hip.

“Please let me come.”

When you had woken up this morning, there had been a nagging unease in one of the chambers of your heart, one you couldn’t quite explain. Now, in the evening, you’re not only able to name it, you see it was entirely unfounded.

When Katie comes, she holds your gaze, encourages you to rub yourself against her thigh. She makes the prettiest sounds, whispers your name. Kisses you.

Nothing has changed.

You’re still trembling against her when her breathing is calm again, you’re still swallowing hard when she is fixing her skirt and buttoning up her blouse. Then she moves you so your back is against the kitchen counter, and kisses you slowly, putting everything she can’t say into the way her lips move across yours.

“You’re both always so quiet when you watch me come,” she whispers into your ear, and now it’s your turn to feel your cheeks heat up. “Let’s see if I can make you let yourself go.” She bites your bottom lip, then sinks down onto her knees in front of you, pulling your pants and underwear with her.

And just when she places your leg around her shoulders and licks through your wetness, you hear the key turn in the lock.

***

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javier peña taglist: @almodovarispunk | @burdenedwithchaos | @cjillian97 | @daimyosprincess | @giggly-otter

@hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmsstuff | @mandalaur | @pookipedia | @sin-djarin | @welcometoshiphell

perma taglist: @alexturner | @amneris21 | @din-jarhead | @harriedandharassed | @martellthemandalor

@nobodys-baby-now | @od-ends | @pedrorascal | @radiowallet-writes | @xoxabs88xox

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña #javier peña x reader x katie #javier peña x you x katie #katie x reader #katie x you #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction

[huramuna]

beware the sapphire peak - chapter 2.

aemond targaryen x wife reader x alys rivers a period piece, set in 1902.

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wordcount: 4.8k

you're a young, american lady who is an aspiring author. you are wooed by a mysterious and charming savant from england. swept off your feet, you're whisked away to his family's ancient estate, Dragonstone Hall. but with all stories, secrets are hiding around every corner, and your suitor is no different. a crimson peak inspired mini series.

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! i don't do taglists right now, so sorry!

content: smut (specifics below cut), angst, gaslighting, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, alys in her girlboss gatekeep gaslight era, no use of y/n, afab reader, pre-established alysmond, this isn't going where you think it is(it might be), infidelity-ish, polyamory, mentions of infertility, murder, depictions of murder/violence

once upon a december - invadable harmony • reflections - toshifumi hinata

warnings: oral (f receiving), p in v, creampie, inappropriate use of high valyrian

As you passed through the threshold of the building, you looked upon the tapestries that lined the walls– they seemed to tell a story, a story of dragons, war, betrayal and succession. The woven tapestries were over eight feet tall, hanging from old iron nails that pinned them to the stone bulwark. Beyond those, were the beginnings of many, many portraits of Targaryens long passed. They were all otherworldly looking, your eyes glazing over at their perfectly captured features. 

Aemond’s gentle squeeze to your hand brought you back to reality, following the line of your gaze to the portraits. “Some people have said that Targaryens are closer to Gods than people,” he smirked, chuckling softly. “When we rode dragons and conquered land and sky, perhaps. But not now– we are merely mortals once again.”

“Ah, and here I thought I married an immortal being, what a pity.” you jested, your tongue poking in your cheek. 

“A pity indeed– luckily I snagged myself a Goddess, hm?” he whispered lowly, craning his head to nose at your jawline, planting little kisses upon your soft skin. He was so close to you, his scent all consuming in your nostrils as you drank in the feather light touch of his lips upon you. You were surprised that you’d made it into the building without the both of you making love on the floor like rutting animals, truly. 

The sound of heels clicking pulled you both from your stupor. As you turned around, you looked upon the woman that was in the window, the real one, atleast. She was tall, a few inches shorter than Aemond, but she still towered over you– they both did– her hair was pinned in a neat half-do, the slightly wavy tresses in a gorgeous, deep brown color, like freshly brewed coffee. Her eyes, a lively emerald green, blinked slowly as she looked you up and down, assessing you. She seemed to be more mature than you and Aemond, likely by fifteen or so years. The only indication of her age were the soft gleam of one or two errant gray hairs and the lines of her face, laugh lines, crow’s feet alike, were illuminated under the flickering light in the foyer. She wore a deep green dress, a similar shade to her eyes. “Lord Targaryen, Lady Targaryen,” she greeted, her voice deep and silky– it reminded you of the timbre of a wonderful cello you’d heard in an orchestra in New York City, instantly sending your heart aflutter. 

“My love, this is Alys Rivers. She is the estate’s governess,” Aemond introduced, one eye lingering upon Alys before returning to you. “She’s been with us for many years and is more than happy to help you get acquainted with the ins-and-outs of the Keep.” 

You suddenly remembered your manners, hand extended out to her. “Miss Rivers, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” you smiled, your hand enveloped by hers. It was a bit cold, but warmed up quickly within your own. 

“And you, my lady. I’m sure we will become fast friends.” Alys responded coolly, her mouth perking into a similar grin, her thumb lingering over the back of your hand for a bit longer than necessary as she squeezed it lightly before letting go

Certainly you didn’t imagine that? 

“It is good to see you again, Alys. I hope to not be away from the estate for so long again,” Aemond hummed, watching as you and the governess’ hands lingered with one another, then turning back to face you. “Shall we get settled in, my dear?” he asked. You knew exactly what he meant by settling in– and it would be the opposite of what you would be doing.

“It is good to have you back, Lord Targaryen. Let us hope you won’t need to leave again any time soon.” Alys gave a wry smile, regarding you both before curtsying and flittering away. 

Aemond led you up the stairs, up to the third floor, where the master bedroom lay. The hallways narrowed as you traversed the home, with Aemond pointing out a few of the key points of the estate to you on the way. Then, he stopped at a gilded pair of double doors, the handles were beautifully complex dragons carved from a deep brown and red cedar, their eyes fashioned from jewels. It was the height of opulence– edging on gaudiness for your taste, but you married into practical royalty, so you couldn’t complain.

Opening them, it revealed a large room decorated in black and green, with the occasional splash of red and gold. The walls were lined with towering bookshelves, cornered by a soft reading nook with two plush chairs. The bed was spacious, twice the size of the bed you had at home, which was a king size– you didn’t even know what to classify this size as. Monarch size? Dragon size? It was huge, that was all you knew, furnished in a soft red velvet sheet set. 

You walked to the bed, fingers glazing over the silken soft sheets. “This is… the softest thing I’ve ever felt in my life, my God.” you murmured, beginning to unbutton your outer coat and shed your layers. You wished to feel the plush silk on your bare skin.

“I hope it’s to your liking, love.” Aemond came up behind you, helping you shed your unsightly amount of layers until you were in your silken shift and undergarments. His hand began to wander, bunching up the fabric of your shift and pulling it upward, until he could rest his hand on your bare stomach.

The sensation of his warm hand on your stomach made you flutter slightly, pressing back against him. “Yes, I’d say it’s quite to my liking– though, I suppose we shall put it to the test, won’t we?” you teased, your arm coming up to caress his cheek.

As your hand touched his face, his hand rose up higher and higher, exploring further. His hand found solace atop your corseted brassiere, the tiniest growls of frustration escaping from his lips. His free hand began working double time to undo the series of laces. “You won’t be needing to wear these anymore, my love,” he grumbled, biting softly on your earlobe as he continued his race to undress you. “In fact, I’d like it if you didn’t wear anything at all.”

You giggled, shimmying out of the brassiere, to which he threw aside. “I’m sure that Miss Rivers would find that garish and uncouth, Aemond. I can come to a compromise, though,” you purred, switching around to where you were sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling him towards you by the hem of his shirt.

“A compromise,” he repeated, “And what sort of compromise would that be?” Aemond asked, kneeling down in front of you now.

“Perhaps I may not wear any undergarments at all under my clothes,” you whispered, craning your neck downward as you tilted his chin upward. “For easier access.”

The sound that came from Aemond could only be categorized as animalistic and primal, his lips melding with yours in a rising fervor. It was a clash of teeth and tongue, his hand pawing at your now freed breast, thumb and forefinger pinching your nipple– eliciting a surprised gasp from you. You’d never been touched in such a way and the little spark of pain that went through you mingled with your pleasure. You liked it, conveying this to your husband by increasing the fever pitch of your kisses, mouth parted as your tongues danced together in the most lascivious of ways, as if you were trying to eat one another alive. 

“What did I do,” he breathed between your assaults on each other’s mouths. “To deserve such a beautiful wife, hm?” his hand had become permanently rested on your breast, rubbing your stiffened nipple like he was trying to elicit every moan possible from you from just this alone. “A beautiful wife who makes all of the most beautiful little noises?” 

You were rendered speechless, your response coming out only as a whine as he pushed you back on the bed, pulling your underwear down. He made a noise of satisfaction at what he saw, seemingly pleased with how you looked, his hand grazing through your wisps of pubic hair before parting your soaked folds. You stared down at him beneath half-lidded eyes, your body heat emanating from you like a furnace, the heights of your cheeks red with pleasure. 

Aemond was continually spurred on by your state of being, like you were clay within his hands, and he was the sculptor. He nudged your legs open more, his fingers spreading you open. You whimpered as the cold air hit your core, but it was immediately replaced by a warm heat– his breath fanning over you. 

“Please,” was all that could come out of your mouth as you looked at him. 

His pupil was blown wide, the blue usually there eclipsed by black as he dragged his tongue over your folds, testing your taste. Humming in contentment with the taste, he went back in for another, lapping over your wet sex, the cleft of his nose rubbing against your clit. You fought the urge to close your legs out of instinct, feeling a warm sensation barrelling toward you as if you needed to relieve yourself. Your eyes were more open now in a slight panic at the feeling, but Aemond just grinned, keeping up his pace and even quickening it.

You grasped at his hair, the white-blonde strands fisted in your hand as you moaned broken strings of his name as your first orgasm washed over you, and in turn, him. You felt a rush of wetness come from your body, which was now glistening upon Aemond’s maw, his mouth still twisted into a smile, like he had just had the greatest meal of his life. He came up between your legs again, unbuckling his belt and discarding his trousers and undergarments without much ceremony– you both didn’t have time for it now, especially when you could see the weeping need coming from him, dripping at the tip of his cock. 

His lips found yours again, and you could taste yourself on his tongue. You didn’t consider yourself a sexual woman really, but God, if this wasn’t the epitome of eroticism– you wanted this moment seared into your brain like a brand. 

“I’ll go slow, love,” he breathed, lips barely parted from yours. “Let me know if it’s too much.”

You nodded in affirmation, not capable of forming words at the moment. You hope you'll become more adept at dirty talk, just seeing how one ‘Please’ spurred your husband into action like a horse at a derby. You felt the head of his cock swipe against your soaked core, then slowly easing in. The stretch alone, the flame of pain that was just there, right on the precipice, ignited that familiar feeling within you once more. It was goddamn delicious, the feeling of being full, full of your husband– the thought made your eyes roll back in your head for a moment as he buried himself to the hilt.

The cherry on top, however, was when you finally got a glimpse of Aemond’s face– both of his eyes were closed, mouth slightly agape, hair strewn mess. He was concentrating so intensely on not bursting inside of you within seconds, as your tightness squeezed him like a vice. “Fuck,” he grunted, his use of foul language sending shocks of pleasure throughout your extremities. “You’re so tight– Christ above.” Aemond began to move then, thrusting back and forth, just to focus his mind on the motions and not to bust a moment in. He murmured praises in your ear, some in English and some in another language you didn’t understand, but it was primal and ancient, you could tell just by how he sounded out the words, and it was no doubt something dirty and more than likely downright feral. “Issa gevie ābrazȳrys, sīr ȳrda, sīr vok. Ry ñuhon, ry ñuhon.” My beautiful wife, so tight, so perfect. All mine, all mine.

Judging by how he pounded into you, the sound of flesh against flesh filling the room, coupled with your cacophony of whines and moans, he was close, chasing his high. His pace hastened and your legs fastened around his midsection to keep him as close as possible– a reaction your body made on its own, seemingly. 

A sequence of unintelligible curses and erotic sweet-nothings came from his mouth as he gave one final push– a low, reverberating grunt coming from the depths of his chest as he stilled, spending inside of you. His lips smeared against your neck, nothing coming from his mouth but hefty pants.

You both caught your breaths and he softened inside of you, then cleaned you both up after– you would’ve helped as well, but your legs were jelly, and simply refused to pick you up from the bed. Aemond was more than happy to pick you up and tuck you under the covers, holding you close to him, as if you might fly away during the night. 

You dreamed of dark hallways and pale visages looking upon you– you woke up several times during the night, seeing pairs of eyes staring at you, pity in their ghastly gaze. You would fall back asleep and think nothing of it.

–

“Looking at something, dearest?” Aemond hummed, his thumb parting another page further into the book he was reading, the room illuminated in candlelight. It had been a whole fortnight since you moved into the estate– you had been able to sit down and write even more, and Aemond had helped you send off your manuscript to a reputable publisher in London, who was a family friend of the Targaryens. You began your second novel, which was inspired by Dragonstone Hall and the odd dreams you’d had as of late, laden with peering eyes and ghostly figures.

You were perched on the window seat, the silk of your nightgown clinging to you like a second skin. Moving forward, you looked down upon the courtyard and beyond, seeing the moonlit horizon painting the sea, waves ebbing and flowing like beautiful clockwork. Glancing over your shoulder to your husband, his usual harsh features softened by the gentle flicker of the bee’s wax candles. A smile crept on your lips, which in turn, caused his own to upturn into a returning grin. “Just enjoying the view of the sea.”

“‘Tis dark, my love,” he closed the book, setting it aside. “Are you an owl and I did not know it? Seeing in the dark?” he got up from his position on the bed, making his way to you.

“Perhaps I am an owl,” you giggled, “But the moon and sky are especially clear tonight– a perfect view.”

He perched his chin upon your shoulder, looking out of the window with you. “A clear sky. That must be a good omen, hm? Alys has told me that it was storming constantly while I was gone.”

“A good omen indeed,” you purred, nuzzling your nose into his neck. Out of the corner of your eye, looking down into the courtyard, you could’ve sworn you saw two men, ghastly white, walking upon the green. But when you turned your head to get another look, Aemond enveloped your lips into a kiss, pulling you back towards him, and back towards your bed. You didn’t get another glimpse at the courtyard until it was cloudy and dark once again.

No one was there.

–

“Oh, hello, Miss Rivers,” you murmur softly, your voice still hoarse with sleep. You brush a few errant curls away from your face as you go to pour yourself a cup of tea, bare feet padding upon the tiled kitchen floor. “Good morning.”

“Just Alys is fine, dear,” she smiles, her emerald eyes shining clearly– she must’ve already been wide awake for a few hours. “Please, let me.” Alys sits up from her chair, moving near you and pouring water from the kettle into your cup before you could even grab it.

You glance up at her– she was much taller than you, like Aemond– a feeling of embarrassment coming over you. “Oh– thank you,” you manage to muster, “But it… it isn’t necessary, Mis– Alys.”

The older woman looks at you with an expression of curiosity, you had said something truly novel. “Ah. You aren’t like the others, then. Good.” she smiled, the sides of her mouth crinkling. Something about it made your heart skip a beat– what was going on?

“The others?” you asked, stirring your cup which was now steeping with a fruity, floral tea bag. You scooped a heap of sticky honey from a reserve of it on the counter, preferring your tea extra sweet. 

Alys watched as you stirred in the thick substance, before lifting her eyes to you. “The other– former– denizens of the estate, my lady. Lord Targaryen’s other family. Excellent employers, but they always asked for me to do things beyond my job description. Pour tea, serve lunch, draw baths." She took a seat then at the small kitchen table, but not before grabbing the entire jar of honey, putting it in the middle. 

You took a seat across from her. “As a… governess, your job is to care for and educate children, correct?” you crossed one leg over the other, leaning back against the wooden backing of the chair, which was carved with intricate depictions of dragons and swords.

“Correct, my lady. Sometimes the estate was bereft of children, thus no one to care for or teach. Between you and I, sometimes the adults acted as overgrown children, demanding and grabby,” she spooned honey into her own cup, which was a dark, swirling liquid you couldn’t quite identify. “As it is now– but more so. You, Lord Targaryen, and I are the only denizens of the Keep.”

You coughed slightly as you heard her. The only ones? There were only three of you at this massive estate– and… what of the faces you saw when you arrived? The men you saw out in the courtyard just the eve before? You placed down your cup with a shaky hand. “P-pardon me,” you sputtered, hitting a hand upon your chest to try and catch your breath. “We are the only ones?” you looked at Alys with wide eyes.

“Yes, my dear. But this building is centuries upon centuries old, you know. Do you believe in ghosts, Lady Targaryen?”

You perked up at the notion, the part of your brain that loved the macabre and weird firing off on all cylinders. “Oh, yes! They interest me quite greatly.”

Alys gave a lopsided smile, her brows perked as if surprised by your reaction. “I didn’t expect such… an enthusiastic response, my lady. Most women are afraid of such ghastly notions.” she leaned forward, propping her chin on her open palm. “The estate is haunted, you know, by centuries of Targaryens past and then some.” 

“Oh, you must tell me their names and stories,” you leaned forward in turn, mimicking her interest in the conversation and then some, fully enraptured by the tales of tragedy, of love long lost, betrayal and beyond. 

The two of you ended up talking at the table for hours, until the sun was high in the sky to indicate noon– you only parted with her when Aemond had come into the kitchen to request your presence in the gardens. He was quite amused that you and Alys had melded together so quickly– he quoted you as ‘two barn owls, flitting feathers in the rafters and sharing stories over a juicy mouse’. 

It made you giggle.

–

From that day on, your days started and ended much the same. You would be excited, giddy, like a kid on Christmas morn, to go down and talk to Alys. You didn’t quite understand why you were so excited to be around her, why she enraptured you so– it felt good to entertain her and make her laugh, much in the same vein as you felt doing similar for Aemond.

You admired her, in a way, she was such a strong woman, yet unmarried and without children. But she cited that she didn’t need them, the husband at least. She had confessed to you that she had been married before, long ago in her youth. ‘Young, dumb and in love’, she had explained it– only to find out that she was unable to have children. Your heart clenched as she told her story, how she desperately wanted children of her own and went into governess work to have some semblance of it. 

In turn, you opened your heart to Alys, confiding about your mother and the struggles with losing her at such a young age. You cried and embraced her, to which she returned wholeheartedly– but she didn’t cry.

Your nights would come to a close within Aemond’s grasp, whether upon the bed, prostrated on his desk, or in the reading nook. ‘Twas a dreamy life for you.

You woke on a particularly dreary morning, over three months after your marriage, the downpour of sodden English weather clouding the skies and dampening the moods of everyone involved. Lightning struck, thunder rumbling the ground thoroughly and without mercy. When you stepped out of your bedroom, Aemond was still asleep– he had worked through the night on a massive proposal to the Lord of the next town over, working out some trade routes to have fresh fruit brought up to the estate in exchange for the homegrown honey.

Your bare feet padded on the wooden floors, they were cold and the air felt… thick and slightly electrified. It sent your head into a tizzy as you grabbed the metal knob of the washroom door, feeling a sparking jolt go through you. It shocked you! Rattled, but undeterred, you put your hand on the knob again and attempted to open it, only to be met with another tremor of electricity, stinging the palm of your hand. 

“Come on,” you groaned in frustration, practically crossing your legs by how badly you needed to relieve yourself. Electroshock therapy be damned, you wouldn’t be shut out of the privy any longer. You pressed your shoulder to the door, twisting the knob as it continually pestered you with numbing sparks, then gave the door a firm push– it gave away, opening and sending you sprawling to the floor at a high velocity. You landed on your knees, face inches away from the lip of the tub; you cringed as you imagined the sight of your face smashed to a jelly, bleeding out upon the floor. Small mercies. 

Pulling yourself up, you glanced over the bathtub, using it as leverage to get up. Upon looking into it, you saw something you never expected to– a woman, nude and red haired with translucent skin was curled in the bath in a fetal position, her throat slashed and bleeding red rivulets, blending into the small droplets of water that lined the tub. You were too surprised to scream, pushing yourself back from the tub and once again sprawling to the floor, mouth agape. 

You were going insane– surely…

Your heart was in your throat as you eased up, glancing back into the tub. The woman was gone, the porcelain lining of the tub clean as could be. 

Mayhaps Alys’ ghost stories had gotten to you, more than you thought? 

Turning around to finally use the privy, you were in awe that you didn’t piss yourself, you sat down on the toilet, your head in your hands as you emptied your overly full bladder. It was silent, save for the sound of the rain pattering against the stained glass window pane, the distant rumble of thunder and… heavy breathing. You stopped your own breaths– the sound consisted. It was right in front of you. 

With shaky hands slowly moving away from your eyes, you looked upon who was in front of you. It was the woman you saw in the bathtub– her neck still bleeding, her eyes wide and bloodshot, her face stained with tears and blood. Her chest rose and fell heavily with her ghastly breaths as she stared right at you. Her jaw was broken, mouth off kilter as it was agape with her labored puffs, teeth askew and rotted. You still felt like you weren’t breathing, your heart pattering like a hummingbird in your chest, about to explode.

“Who. Are. You.” she asked, voice far away and broken, like a whisper on the wind.

“L-Lady Targaryen,” you responded, your head pounding in sync with your heart– you felt like you were about to pass out.

The woman looked at you, her already wide eyes widening beyond the point they should even be able to, the sclera eclipsed in pure red, tinging on inky black ichor. Her hand, gaunt and bony, raised to you, her pointer finger pointing at you, inches away. “You,” she hissed. “You. Won’t leave this place. You. Will die. And stay here. Bones and all. Sinew and muscle, pulled from flesh.”

“W-who are you? How can I help you?” you whispered frantically, your entire body shaking. 

Her mouth twisted into a sickly smile. “You. Cannot help. For I– am you. Lady Targaryen. One. Of many.”

You blinked, eyes roving to think of something to respond– but when you looked up, she was gone. The air was normal and the storm outside had quelled. It was as if nothing had happened. You sat still on the toilet, eyes open until they started to burn. 

What just happened? Are you truly going mad?

You rushed downstairs after, almost tripping and falling at least twice along the way. You rushed to find Alys, who you hoped would quell your mind like the storm had been. 

“Alys,” you croaked, flying into the kitchen like a bat out of hell. “Alys, Alys,” you blubbered, you weren’t sure when you started crying. 

She was sitting at the table, up in an instant. “My dear, my dear, what’s happened? Are you alright?” she crooned, arms around you instantly. 

“I-I… please, promise you won’t think I’m mad–” 

“We are all mad in some ways, dearest. You can tell me anything.” she hummed, sitting you down on your chair and fixing your tea for you, bringing over the fresh honey, the comb still attached. 

“T-there was a woman,” you breathed, your finger slicing across your neck to indicate where her bleeding wound had been. “S-she… she… she said I’m going to die?” you took your tea with a shaky hand, sipping, but it didn’t help calm you. “I-I’m a horror author, I shouldn’t be scared of this sort of thing, Alys! What is wrong with me? I’m going mad.”

“Shh, shh, dove,” she instructed, pulling her chair around the table to sit close to you, arm still around you. “Just breathe– did you get enough sleep last night?”

“Y-yes– I.. I think so,” you murmured, hands still shaking.

Alys took your hand in hers, the other going to spoon some honey from the bowl. She roved small smoothing circles over the back of your palm. “You must get more rest, dearest. I’ll make you a tea tonight, it will help,” she whispered, her mouth close to your ear as she guided the spoon of honey, comb and all, towards your mouth. “Open.”

You had to chalk it up to the storm, the nightmare or whatever you could categorize your encounter with the ghostly woman as, but you recused yourself into Alys’ touch, eyes trained taut upon her as you opened your mouth. She spooned the honey onto your tongue, pulling the utensil away with a sticky trail of saliva and honey– to which she proceeded to lick off. 

Your head was swirling– you had admired Alys and thought her beautiful from the moment you saw her and you always liked women. You thought them soft and warm and could fill a certain void within you left by the death of your mother– but you had never… thought of a woman in a romantic light, surely? Your heart skipped a beat as you were so close to her, mouth parted. You could smell her light perfume, a lovely scent of vanilla and floral notes. 

The same feeling of elation that you felt when Aemond caressed you, kissed you, whispered sweet nothings to you was prominent in the pit of your stomach. You could count the speckles of light hazel in her emerald eyes from your close proximity. It was unsure who closed the gap first– but your lips melded to Alys’, tasting the sweet honey on her mouth, swiping your tongue across them to gather the syrupy nectar. Her hand caressed the back of your neck so tenderly as you pressed closer together, mouths parting to envelop each other’s tongues until the tastes of both of you were one in the same– saccharine, cloying, sticky sugar.

You had forgotten who you were or where you were, only enjoying the moment with Alys, when you heard the rumble of thunder off in the distance, it broke you from your union. Panic washed over you, your face going beet red. 

What had you done? 

#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #aemond x fem!reader #prince aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfic #aemond fandom #my writing #beware the sapphire peak #alysmond #alys rivers #alys rivers x aemond #alys rivers x reader #alys rivers x reader x aemond targaryen

[silviakundera]

Kinnporsche Fanfic Recs

In celebration of the 2 year anniversary, here is an avalanche of Kinn/Porsche fics that I've enjoyed. Painfully incomplete & posted in no particular order. My shipping interests are 100% focused on the K/P couple and that will be reflected in my list, sorry 😘.

Deep Like a Coastal Shelf by Lilla_Torg

(79,000 words) Green Arrow inspired AU. "After five years abroad, Kinn Theerapanyakul returns to find his city under siege by a vigilante known as the Phoenix."

Stain of Sun by Lilla_Torg

(78,000 words) Omega brothers Porsche (hacker) and Chay (grifter) team up to take down the Theerapanyakul crime family. Things do not go as planned. // This marries A/B/O with mutant powers. As long as you're not wholly opposed to Omegaverse, give it a chance. Every one of this author's long KPtS fics is a banger.

Pouring Down Crimson Fire by Lilla_Torg

(119,000 words) Sort of a mutant AU but honestly that underplays how fucking cool this fic is. “I think you know something about keeping secrets,” said Kinn. He flashed Porsche a pocket-ace smirk. “You’re mine. Say it.”

The boy he’d been fourteen years ago would have told him where to shove it. But Porsche had been around long enough to know that the mafia always won. Still, he looked around, searching for a way out, before giving up and turning back to Kinn, those black eyes awaiting his surrender.

“I’m yours,” he said.

a perpetual unscattering by concernedlily

(31,000 words) Canon-divergence AU. “Pissing in bottles behind a cocktail bar,” Kinn said. “But Pa gave him to me, so I’m stuck with him.” To a visibly furious Porsche he said, “You don’t know the minor family? Never come across any of them before?”

“How would I know the fucking minor family?” Porsche snapped.

what a tangled web we weave by fortunehasgivenup

(80,000 words) 1000 Nights inspired alternate universe, fantasy-historical Thailand. // After the betrayal of his first husband, King Anakinn Theerapanyakul vows to never love again. Once a week, he takes a new husband, a young man who will not live to see another dawn.

When a nobleman comes to find a young man to adopt and marry off to the king in place of his own son, Thee chooses Chay.

Faced with an outcome that he refuses to contemplate, Porsche steps in and takes Chay's place. He only has one request for the king - to be allowed to tell his brother one last bedtime story.

Burn Your Name Into My Skin by Everyforkedroad

(72,000 words) In which Kinn visits a high-end sex club and he & Porsche meet under the guise of anonymity for what should be a 1 night encounter. Except not only are they intensely drawn together... things are not what they seem.

Salt by ronandhermy

(49,000 words) Sweat stings because the salt is purifying. Porsche may be in high school but he is still a National Champion in Taekwondo and he catches the eye of the national team's newest sponsor: The Theerapanyakun Family. Alternate first meeting. Leans into the darkness of canon, read the tags and proceed w caution.

how do you like it, daddy by Baby_Droll

(28,000 words) "and ain't shit 'bout me cheap and ain't shit 'bout me free" - our lord and savior, florence millicent. kinn & porsche, and all the other pieces on their fucked up chess board. a sugar baby/daddy au with an omegaverse twist. // This is a dark reimagining alternate universe. Iconic toxic K/P fic.

two shots by Martynax

(81,000 words) AU, different first meeting. Porsche joined the armed forces & became a hired gun. // “So I’m supposed to end a mafia dispute?”

“Something like that,” he mutters, wondering if he’s making a mistake, revealing it to Porsche so soon. Nothing is set in stone, after all. But he has a gut feeling that the man appreciates honesty and simplicity much more than intrigue and schemes.

be the best you ever tasted by Martynax

(90,000 words) an AU where Porsche's life is shit so he shakes his perky little bum for strangers at a strip club and Kinn books him for a private show. Porsche doesn't fuck customers and shouldn't get associated with whatever grey business his boss is trying to run out of the club. But... you know how this is gonna go.

between the sheets by DasWarSchonKaputt

(70,000 words) “And who’s that?”

“Oh. That’s Porsche. He’s Khun Kinn’s live-in boytoy. He’s harmless, mostly. Just a pretty face.”

A boyfriend can go so many places a bodyguard can’t. As the threat of a potential leak in their security forces looms large, Khun Korn hatches a plot to place an added layer of protection around his heir presumptive. Enter Porsche, former bartender, current bodyguard, and reluctant fake boyfriend of Kinn Theerapanyakul.

Stumbling to the Edge by FireRisingOverTheHills

(51,000 words) Of the genre of KP fics where Kinn and Porsche meet-cute in a random bar encounter, instead of a meet-ugly, this one is my fav. I just really enjoy the Kinn PoV with his what?! is?! happening??? vibes as he finds himself irresistibly drawn to someone who doesn't fit neatly into defined roles.

"He makes this all seem like it’s perfectly normal and Kinn is helpless to do anything but go along with it."

Whatever Else that Touches You by technicallyverycowboy

(9,330 words) Tender established relationship and bisexual self discovery, post canon. // "No, it's fine." Porsche shifts to be a little less plastered against Kinn's side, straightens his shoulders and smooths out his jacket with great dignity. "The answer to your question is yes, I have really never been with any other men."  Porsche answers questions, asks some of his own, tries new things, and fills in the knowledge gaps of his own sexuality.

An Elegant Mechanism by Laughsalot3412

(87,000 words) A/B/O AU, Kim centric with some background K/P and dysfunctional brothers & cousin bonding. The only fic on this list that isn't K/P primary. //  "Kim was only an omega when he was luring people closer to his gun. No one had to give Kim a weapon. He was one.  (Kim's mission is to get close to Porchay Kittisawat. Chay is not a typical alpha. Kim is not a typical omega. Kim isn't having feelings and Chay is going to be so normal about all of this.)"

Love and Violence by thewayside

(9,500 words) Beautifully written, post ep 14. // "Love and violence have always been bedfellows for Kinn. Down to how his first proper relationship ended in a pool of blood. Porsche’s beauty might have drawn him in, but he knows in his gut that he met someone in kind that first night, blood coursing through their veins as the fight ended and Porsche led him onto a bike to a road he barely knew."

Burnished night, blood-soaked stars by The_Old_Astronomer

(13,000 words) Missing scene set between the end of episode 6 and the side story (pre-ep 7). Porsche fights to keep Kinn alive after the attack, and gradually realises how much the other man means to him.

Night Call by vesna (mrsronweasley)

(34,500 words) "On Kinn's birthday, Kinn is dragged by Tae and Time to a strip club, where he gets a private dance from a man who calls himself Jom. Kinn is smitten. Things spin out from there." Canon AU, where Porsche became a stripper because bartending wasn't paying enough.

NFWMB by vesna (mrsronweasley)

(18,700 words) There's a rushing in Kinn's ears, a noise he can't shake. It almost makes him miss the next thing Arm tells him. "He was supposed to check in, as per protocol, but—"  "But what," Kinn snaps. A headache is building behind one of his eyes.  Arm's eyes are wide right before he lowers them and says, "He hasn't been heard from in two and a half hours."  Or, post-canon Porsche is kidnapped. Kinn goes through it.

Caught Off Guard by Altered_Ego

(23,000 words) The one where Porsche is one of his escort's bodyguard. Alternate first meeting; Porsche took another path to support his brother.

the less i know the better by mslunita

(45,000 words) Bored Kinn joins Tinder in hopes of getting his rocks off with a different kind of guy, instead of the standard escorts. Porsche challenges him in just the right way. // Alternate first meeting. Basically their canon selves, but this is after Porsche has already had his bi awakening.

XXX curious STRAIGHT boy BEGS for COCK for the FIRST TIME XXX by mirrorofprinces

(35,000 words ) Porn industry AU. “Porsche is extremely close to signing. In fact, he has a final meeting with the execs on Monday morning. The only condition is that he wants to request his first partner, and it’s you.”  Kinn takes a long drink of his whiskey, sets the glass down, and runs his tongue over his teeth. “So you had to meet with me, urgently, to tell me that a beautiful boy wants me to fuck him, thinking I’d say no.” He drums his fingers on the bartop. “Which means there’s a catch.”

paint my kiss across your chest (your touch is like a happy pill) by darkknight

(16,000 words) Episode 8 era. "Porsche discovers different new ways of how good sex can feel, ways that would never even have crossed his mind before meeting Kinn."

quis custodiet ipsos custode by concernedlily

(8,600 words) Porsche being on dangerous missions and Kinn discovering he has Feelings About That. Missing scenes and Post Ep 14.

Wing of a Butterfly by Kalere

(320,000 words) Some years before the canon storyline, two young men have a random encounter at a bar. Their friendship changes everything. // The epic Porsche & Vegas friendship fic.

#kinnporsche #kpts #fic rec #there are tons more great KP fics #i am certain I left off at least a dozen #this fandom is blessed with its authors #please be inspired by this to publish your own recs

[peaceloveandf1]

Soft Launch pt.5

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4

part 6

summary: welcome to Austin, Texas. After a year together y/n and Lance are feeling the weight off their shoulders of being public. Oh yeah….. Incase you forgot, everything is bigger in Texas.

pairing: Lance Stroll x reader

rating: R

warnings: 18+, P!V (wrap it pls), language

Also buckle up cause this is a long one. With peace and love ofc

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yourusername posted photos

liked by f1, kleinhila, vogue, yourbestfriend, lance_stroll and 6,072,057 others

yourusername can confirm everything is bigger in Texas 🤠

17,692 comments

danielricciardo: I told you it was fun 🙄

astonmartinf1: great to have you back💚

ynandlance: so tell me about that caption bestie

lance_stroll: damn. You’re cute

^yourusername: damn. So are you.

motheryn: I love the Texas era

……………………………………………………….

lance_stroll posted photos

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo, landonorris, f1, and 1,803,872 others

lance_stroll did someone say Texas?

2,790 comments

yourusername hey cowboy

^lance_stroll hey cowgirl

landonorris interesting pictures 👍

^yourusername are you a Facebook mom??

view more comments

………………………………………..

“Brooks is asleep and Chlo will be here in 15”Lance announced as he came into the kitchen of the house we were staying in during our time in Texas.

“Thanks babe. I’m almost ready ” I told him, my attention locked onto the selection of boots I brought with me.

As I finally began putting on the black boots, Lance strutted in, in full cowboy attire. Jeans, hat, boots, and belt with a longhorn on the buckle.

“Hey cowboy” I mumbled, letting his arms wrap around me.

“Hey baby” he whispered, kissing me softly.

“You know I love when you wear that hat, right?” I giggled, pulling away from his kiss.

“Oh really? I might have to wear it more often then” he smirking, kissing me again, harder and placing the cowboy hat on my head.

“You know the rule right?” Lance smirked down at me again.

I laughed, standing up on my tip toes to kiss him. “Yeah babe, I know the saying”.

“So what is it?” He urged me to say

“Something like: You wear the hat. You ride the cowboy.” I said, looking up at him through my lashes.

“You gonna live up to it y/n?” Lance asked me, hands starting to unbuckle my belt.

“Lance, we don’t have time. Chloe’s going to walk in on us” I groaned as my belt fell to the floor and his hand slipped the zipper of my jeans down.

“She won’t. I can’t last long with you looking like that anyways ” he sighed, slipping a hand into my panties, fingers finding my clit over them.

“Lance, ah fuck, okay we’ll be fast” I moaned, my hand finding his buckle as he walked us towards the couch.

His belt hit the floor almost as fast as mine did. I placed my hands onto his chest and gave him a light push so that he fell back onto the couch.

“God. You’re hot” he said, breath heavy as he yanked his jeans and boxers down all at once. “C’mere babe” he groaned, beckoning me towards him.

I stepped out of my jeans to fully reveal my Aston Martin green panties that Lance absolutely cannot resist. I sauntered over to where Lance sat, legs spread, his dick lying against his abdomen.

As my fingers began to draw my panties down, “leave them on, y/n” Lance practically growled, “You know I fucking love ‘em”.

I feel my cheeks heat up at his words and continue to walk to him. Placing my hands on his chest, I straddle his cock when he pulls my panties aside. His tip slides against my folds and his fingers find my clit again, forcing a moan to slip past my lips. I sank down onto him, letting his length fill me. More moans fall from my mouth when I begin to move up and down. Lance’s fingers keep a steady rhythm sending a shiver down my spine.

Lance’s head falls back against the couch and his hands move to my ass to keep up the pace I set. I can tell he’s trying to not to buck his hips up into me, but I know he’s close. Our moans fill the room as my movements become more sloppy and his hips finally thrust up.

“Ah fuck, y/n I’m close” he groaned, moving his hands to cup my breasts.

I shivered again as I felt my release approaching. The stimulation at my breasts elicited more moans as my movements became erratic.

My orgasm hit me with a wave of pleasure as I continued to move on top of Lance.

“Fuck, that’s it babe” he groaned, hand returning to my clit, guiding me through the orgasm. “Ah I’m close. Where?” He questioned me.

Without thinking, too distracted from the pleasure I gasped “in”. And that did it for him. I felt his release fill me as I continued to ride out my orgasm. My hips slowed and Lance’s hands returned to my waist, helping me off of him.

“That was…” I started

“Hot.” He finished

“Shit. Yeah it was” I giggled collecting my clothes from the floor. “I’m gonna go clean up. Wait for Chlo please” I said, walking to the bathroom.

“Wow. You don’t want to cuddle” he jokes grabbing his pants.

“Shut up” I yell to him.

As I finish cleaning up I walk back into the living room, “do I have sex hair?” I ask him.

“No you’re good babe. Besides it’s Chloe coming, not my dad” he chuckles, looping his belt through his jeans.

Rolling my eyes, I groaned “Lance. It’s gross either way. And besides I don’t want all your friends knowing we just fucked.”

His laugh was cut off by a knock on the door, signaling Chloe’s arrival. I hastily fixed my hair again and placed Lance’s hat on the table.

“Hi, Chlo” I say, grabbing my hat, boots, and bag and walking into the front hall.

“So he’s out like a light. He shouldn’t wake up, but if he does, just call me and I’ll come straight home.” I reassure her, pulling my boots on.

“Y/n, no no I’ll be fine. I don’t want you cutting the night short. I got it.” She said, pulling me into a hug.

“Okay, Chlo. If you need anything at all please call us. We should be back before 1:30” Lance spoke up, practically pulling me out the door, clearly eager to get to dinner.

“Have fun kids” she laughed at us, before closing the door.

……………………………………………………….

The car ride home from dinner was quiet for the most part. Lance’s hand stayed on my thigh the whole ride. Country music filling the car. He was really playing into this whole cowboy themed week. I think it’s cute how he immerses himself into the culture of wherever he is that week.

His humming stopped abruptly and that signaled to me he was thinking hard.

“Penny for your thoughts?” I said, raising my brows.

“Just thinking” he said, giving absolutely no insight to said thoughts.

“About….” I pry.

“I love y/n” he offered.

“I love you too” I offer back, “that all?”

“We didn’t do anything special for our anniversary.” He sighed, letting it out.

“Oh Lance, it’s okay. We were both working. We don’t need anything special” I grip his hand to reassure him.

“Nah babe. I just want you to know how much I care about you.” He says, bringing his lips to my hand.

“Can I ask what prompted this” I giggle, squeezing his hand again.

“I mean it’s just random. Seeing the way you are with the family and friends and Brooks of course. Like-it’s been a long time coming. I can’t describe it. You just… I’ve never been like this before. You know? Like open and carefree.” He finally blurted out as we reached a red light.

“Lance, I honestly do not know what I’d do without you. YOU make me carefree, not the other way around.” I say, looking at him with a smile on my face.

“I want to tell you,I’m not asking now. But I’m letting you know. You’re the endgame, y/n.” He said, squeezing my hand.

My heart felt like it stopped. Did I hear him right? The endgame. I’m so hesitant about those things because I thought Matt was my endgame, “the one” but Lance is… I mean he’s so much different than Matt in the best way possible. He’s the one in the ways Matt was and wasn’t. I’d never even thought about it that much before this. But now…It’s crystal clear. He’s my endgame too.

All I can do is look at him. I’m thankful that the only light outside is the red of the traffic signal and he can’t see my eyes watering right now.

“You’re mine too.” I say, kissing him as the light turns green.

#carlos sainz x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #lance stroll smut #lance stroll x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 instagram au #aston martin f1 #lance stroll #f1 x you #f1 smut #formula one #formula 1

[hairstevington]

Hi! I would love to see the 1st Valentine’s Day prompt(a bouquet of their favourite flowers) for steddie! Specifically Eddie bringing Steve flowers(idk why but I’m a firm believer that Steve secretly loves getting gifted flowers lol!). If you do do this thank you so much!! <3333

Ahhhhhh yes LET’S GOOOO!!! Thanks for the request! (Ao3 link here!)

Word Count: 1.3K

Warnings: Some reeeeal fluffy shit, Eddie secretly pining over his best friend Steve, gay scheming, romance

A/N: This ended up being a bit more than just flowers, but hopefully it suffices! If anyone else is interested here is the prompt post, I also took inspiration from this cute lil post by @grandwretch :)

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Eddie always teased Steve about his romantic conquests. They frequently discussed best practices for him to woo women - including knowing their favorite color, their birthday, their favorite movie, etc. Eddie watched Steve date beautiful woman after beautiful woman, always putting in so much effort and getting so little back.

That's probably why Eddie started doing it.

"Should I get her the blue bracelet or the green one?" Steve would ask.

"I dunno man, what's her favorite color?"

"Blue. But her eyes are green."

"Get the blue. The two colors look good together anyway," Eddie answered as if he was somehow the person to ask about such things. He'd never really dated anyone, but he'd seen a lot of movies, and watched a lot of high school couples date each other.

"Thanks," Steve would say. He was always appreciative for the second opinion, even though the opinion was based on nothing.

"No problem," Eddie smiled. "Hey, what's your favorite color?"

Any time Steve asked for advice, Eddie would eventually turn it back on Steve. It was all part of his master plan, you see - he wanted to make Steve feel special on Valentine's Day. Not in a gay way, he told himself. Steve's my friend, it's not like that.

He tried to convince himself he was doing it platonically, or because it would be funny to see Steve all flustered, but deep down Eddie knew that it was far more than that.

But him and Steve were friends, and that's all they'd ever be, and he'd accepted that.

A week before Valentine's Day, there was a package on Steve's doorstep addressed to him. He wasn't expecting any mail, and the box was so haphazardly wrapped it was almost scary. Like, he was pretty sure he'd seen this exact set-up in a horror movie. Main character gets mysterious package that ends up ruining their life.

(It didn't end up ruining his life, but it sure as hell changed it)

Inside the box was a teddy bear - one of those real cutesie ones you find at a giftshop this time of year. Steve was confused, and wondered if it was even delivered to the right place - sure enough, there was a handwritten note that confirmed it. I call him Steve Bearington, it read. Steve smiled, but still had no idea who it was from. The girl that he'd gone on a few dates with could never have been responsible for the disastrous way the gift was wrapped. He shrugged. It must have been a secret admirer - he got those sometimes.

He told Eddie about it the next day, and Eddie pretended to act surprised. He didn't want to give his secret away, especially when he went so far as to ask some random person to write out the stupid note so that Steve wouldn't recognize his handwriting. He probably should have asked them to wrap it, too, but whatever. Steve was so happy about it, so Eddie continued with his plan.

Eddie learned that Steve liked sour candy over chocolate, so he got him some. Then he wrote him a poem - it wasn't, like, the greatest thing ever written, but Eddie did tend to have a way with words. He delivered the candy two days before Valentine's Day, and on the eve of the holiday he had one of his other friends discreetly stick the poem on Steve's front door and ding-dong-ditch while he and Eddie were hanging out, just to throw him off his game even more.

"Oh my god, they did it again," Steve said when he picked the poem from the door. "Who is this person?" Eddie appreciated that he said person, instead of woman.

"What does it say?" Eddie asked, biting his lip to keep from grinning. He watched as Steve read it to himself first, his brow furrowing.

"It's, uh," he said, folding it nicely and putting it in his pocket. "It's good."

Hell yeah it is, Eddie thought to himself.

Steve had a date on Valentine's Day - Eddie knew this, and it was to be expected anyway, since Steve almost always had a date on most days. He was leaving at 7, so Eddie showed up at 6.

-----------------------------------------------------

Steve didn't have much more to do to get ready for the date - he was already having a good hair day, and he'd picked out an outfit that had done him well in the past. He just was still caught up on who wrote him that poem.

Nobody had written him a poem before, like ever. Steve hadn't ever attempted to write one for anyone else. He wasn't that good at analyzing them in English class, so he'd grown a bit tired of poetry as a whole.

But the one left on his front door sparked a new appreciation for it.

He was confused when the doorbell rang, because he wasn't expecting anybody. Then, he wondered if maybe, he'd find another poem out there.

Instead, he found Eddie. Well, actually, he found a person standing there with flowers covering their face, but the mane of curly brown hair surrounding the flowers gave him away.

They were daisies. Eddie was probably the only person in the world that knew Steve liked daisies, and it wasn't even something he'd explicitly said. He just knew he was drawn to them when he saw them, and he'd pointed them out a few times while he was with Eddie.

"Special Valentine's delivery for Harrington!" Eddie announced, letting himself in. Steve watched as he set them on the table, confident as always, a bright smile on his face. But Steve was mostly just confused.

"What...the hell?" Eddie's bravado faltered just a little bit.

"Hasn't anyone ever gotten you flowers before?" Eddie asked.

"No, but I've bought a lot of flowers before, and -"

"Tsk tsk tsk," Eddie interrupted. "My point exactly. You deserve flowers too, Steve."

"God, what's with all the gifts from people this week?" Steve whined, completely overwhelmed. "Between this and the secret admirer thing, I just -"

Steve's head was spinning, and he wasn't the most observant person, but he did have enough sense to notice the way Eddie winced at the mention of the secret admirer.

"Yeah, well," Eddie said, his tone softer than before. "Like I said, you deserve it."

There was a thick silence as Steve realized what was happening.

"Eddie..." he said, putting it all together. Eddie was the only one who would have known to get him any of that stuff. Steve openly told Eddie all kinds of things he never admitted to anyone else, because he didn't think Eddie was paying attention. He certainly didn't think Eddie had been filing it away to do this.

"I hope you have a good date tonight," Eddie said, suddenly feeling quite stupid about this whole thing. He turned to leave, but Steve stopped him.

"The poem - you wrote it?" Eddie nodded.

Steve thought about straight-up reciting it to Eddie in that moment, to prove to him just how much he liked it. He'd read it so many times it was burned into his brain, just as he wanted it to be.

Huh.

He wasn't expecting this from his best friend, but he was shocked at how weird it didn't feel. Finding out Eddie had been his secret admirer just made sense.

"Doesn't have to be a big deal," Eddie mumbled. "I just - I don't want this to - Like, I'm sorry if -"

"I gotta go cancel my plans with Deb," Steve said.

"What?"

"She'll live. Besides, it wouldn't be that cool of me to go out with someone when I'm thinking about someone else."

"What?" Eddie repeated. He really didn't expect to get this far. "What are you saying?"

Steve smiled - his brilliant, trademark smile that always made Eddie feel warm inside.

"Do you wanna be my Valentine, Munson?"

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

#ask #requests #st fanfic #stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie

[incandescentlysomething]

Lady of the Ashes: Chapter 5

House of the Dragon Season 1

Aemond x TargaryenOC

Chapter Word Count: 4012

She was his everything… For her…he would do anything.

From the moment of her birth, Aemond Targaryen swore himself to the protection of his niece Aelinor Velaryon. As the two grew up inseparable, they find themselves entangled in the Dance of Dragons, battling to stay together even as their families try to pull them apart.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Cross posted on A03

Let me know what you think!

Masterlist A03

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 P.1 P.2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Aelinor was beaming when she finally reached the chambers that had been allotted to her family. After nine long years, her reunion with Aemond had been everything she had hoped for. And Aemond…well he was certainly more than she had hoped for.

But when she stepped through the doors, she found her family sulking in tense silence.

“Whatever has happened?” She asked, causing her mother to look up from her seat. 

“Our meeting with the Queen did not go as planned.” Rhaenyra sighed.

“And the King?” Aelinor moved to take baby Viserys from the nursemaid, holding her half-brother close to her chest.

Rhaenyra clenched her fist, looking toward where Daemon stood in the window. “My father is…not well.”

Aelinor frowned at that, easily bouncing the baby on her hip. She did not like to hear that her grandfather was unwell, though she couldn’t pretend that it was a surprise. His health had not been good for as long as she had known him. But it saddened her to think of the man who had taught her to paint marble figurines and who had always had a seat for her on his knee as suffering and in pain.

Daemon smacked the wall loudly, causing everyone to flinch. “That green bitch has let Viserys rot, all the while she paints the halls with her damned piety. It’s borderline treason.”

Aelinor lifted her skirt as she made her way to a small sofa, setting Viserys down before sitting next to Lucerys. “Well this isn’t good.”

“They’ve been like this since we got back,” He whispered. “You’re just lucky that you missed the screaming.”

“There was screaming?” She raised an eyebrow. “I’m almost disappointed to have missed it.”

A hand wrapped around her shoulders, and she nearly screamed as Jacaerys pulled her back against his chest. “Where the fuck did you come from?”

He snorted, leaning over the back of the couch to hold onto her. “You said you were almost disappointed, sister. Would that ‘almost’ have something to do with who you were talking to?”

“Jace!” She hissed. “Shut your—”

“What is this, Aelinor?” Her mother asked, both of her parents now staring at her. “You were talking to someone?”

She winced. It wasn’t that she wanted to keep Aemond a secret, only that she knew her parents would not be pleased to see her take up with him again. They weren’t children anymore, and if their parents had seen no issues in them being close as children, it would be impossible to avoid the political implications now.

“Yes,” she coughed. “Lord Vaemond. He was arriving just as I went to meet the boys in the yard.”

“Oh,” Her mother relaxed. “And did he…say anything about this entire affair?”

Luc tensed beside her, and she reached around the baby to pat his leg. “No, Mother. Or, nothing more than some low-effort jibes. But we were in the training yard, so I doubt he would have started anything.”

“I wouldn’t put anything past him,” Rhaenyra sighed.

“Who else were you talking to, Aelinor?” Jace teased, unwilling to let the matter go.

She shook off his grip and reached back to smack him on the head. “Gods, you are insufferable. Can’t you just keep—”

“Who else, Aelinor?” Rhaenyra asked.

Aelinor sighed, picking at the fabric of her skirt. Lying was not in her nature, but she could tell just from the stiff set of her mother’s mouth, and how Daemon loomed behind her, that this was not something that they would just brush aside.

“I was speaking to Aemond,” she said finally. “We met him in the yard.”

“And then he chased after her because—”

Aelinor threw a fist back, catching her elder brother in the shoulder. “I hate you.”

“You adore me.” He snickered.

“Children!” Her mother snapped. “This is serious. What did you speak of with Aemond, Aelinor?”

“Nothing,” She insisted. “We haven’t seen each other in nine years, we were just catching up.”

“You two used to be joined at the hip, and you expect me to believe that you were just catching up?” There was nothing accusatory in her mother’s voice, only something like resignation.

“Truly, mother.” She insisted. “He is…he is my friend. I don’t know what else you expect.”

Daemon scoffed, and Aelinor was unable to bite her tongue.

“What should I have told him, Prince Daemon?” She demanded. “Perhaps how you have Luc and Jace practicing battle formations on dragonback? Or should I just outright accused his mother of treachery, as you have just done?”

“Aelinor!” Her mother protested.

“You should mind your tongue,” Daemon frowned. “I do not expect you to understand why—”

“I understand plenty!” Aelinor stood. “I know that we are here to support Lucerys’ claim, and I know that both of you fear that your time away from court has irreparably damaged our reputations. But surely it does no one any good for us to come in with our armor up. As if we have something to hide.”

“We have nothing to hide.” Rhaenyra insisted.

“Exactly!” Aelinor closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “I only think that the best thing we can do is to act like we belong. I don’t see how this scheming and sniping can get anything done.”

“Scheming and sniping is how kings are made.” Daemon said. “However unfortunate that may be.”

“Then I leave you to it.” She said. “But I will have no part.”

“You already have a part in it!” Daemon began. “Just by existing, you validate your—”

“Daemon!” Rhaenyra held up a hand. She carefully eased herself out of her chair, one hand on her stomach. “Aelinor, we talked about this.”

“We talked about presenting a united front.” Aelinor said, “I fail to see how this is undermining that. As far as the court should be concerned, we are family.”

Rhaenyra took a deep breath, steadying herself. “That notion is not incorrect.”

Aelinor was a little surprised to hear that admission. She had expected more resistance, considering how heartily everyone had resisted her friendship with Aemond when they were children. “Truly?”

“Truly.” Her mother nodded. “You are a woman now, Aelinor, and I will not harp on your every move. I only implore you to remember your family in all this.”

“Of course I will, Mother.” She gave a small smile.

“And,” Rhaenyra added. “Remember that, as you are no longer a child, the implications of your friendship with Aemond may be…different than before.”

Luc and Jace snickered, and Aelinor whirled to glare at them.

“I understand, Mother.” She smiled, some of her satisfaction fading at the look Daemon leveled her. 

“Now I must rest,” Rhaenyra said. “I think I shall take dinner in my chamber this evening. We have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow.”

The children all watched as Daemon helped Rhaenyra from the room, collecting the small children before they left and leaving the older ones to fend for themselves for dinner. It made sense, as all of them were exhausted from the day and would relish the opportunity to relax in solitude.

As soon as her parents were out of sight, Aelinor turned to glare at Jace. “You couldn’t keep your mouth shut?”

“Not when teasing you is so fun.” He laughed.

“You’re an ass.” She shook her head. “Luc, you continue to be my favourite.”

Luc beamed. “You’re my favourite too.”

“And you’re both pathetic.” Jace rolled his eyes. “I’m going to go unpack and then return to the training yard. I’ll see you both later.”

Aelinor gave him a crude gesture as he left. Once he was gone, she dropped back onto the couch next to Luc. He reached out and played with a piece of her hair, something she could remember him doing when he was only a babe.

“It’s strange, being back here.” He said quietly. “Everything feels different.”

“It does. But I think we’re different too.��� She replied. “Maybe we just need to give ourselves time to settle in.”

“Maybe,” He hummed. “At least you have Aemond. Was it nice to see him again?”

‘Nice’ didn’t even begin to describe her elation at seeing Aemond. “It…yes,it was nice.”

“That’s good.” Luc looked down at the hair twining his fingers. 

“Chin up,” Aelinor nudged him. “Things will get better. We all used to be friends, once. We can be friends again.”

Luc shook his head. “Aegon is…he’s something else now. And Aemond was never our friend.”

“What? Of course he was.”

“No, Aelinor, he wasn’t.” Luc sighed. “He only ever liked you. He hated us. And with good reason.”

“His own brother teased him as much as you or Jace did.” Aelinor frowned, remembering how they used to torment him. She had hated it, even hating her brothers some days for what they did. Now that she was older, she knew that it was just boys being cruel, and that she couldn’t hold it against them. Surely Aemond wouldn’t either.

“Yes, but…” Luc trailed off.

“But what?” She prompted.

“I’m the one who cut out his eye.”

Aemond was waiting outside the library as the sun set, pretending to study the fading light on the horizon as he paced back and forth. She wasn’t late — in fact he was early — but his nerves were already standing on end. What if she didn’t come? He knew that if it were up to Aelinor, she would be there, but there were any number of things that might stop her. One of her brothers could turn her against him, or her mother might forbid her from meeting him.

He had no doubt that his own mother would have tried to prevent their dinner, which was why he had avoided his family all day. This was beyond them, and it was something they would never understand. 

“Aemond!” He turned toward her voice, and his mouth went dry.

Aelinor was rushing down the hallway with hurried steps, holding her skirt above her ankles as her shoes clicked against the stone. She had changed into a new dress, this one of a dark purple velvet that cut closely to her figure, betraying the slope of her waist and the shape of her hips. Her hair was unbound, flowing like liquid silver as she ran toward him.

“I’m so sorry I’m late!” She exclaimed, coming to a stop in front of him. “I had to wait for Jace to be in his chambers so that I could sneak away.”

He had to swallow a few times before he regained the ability to speak. “Will he give you trouble?”

She waved her hand. “Nothing serious, he just likes to tease. Besides, Luc agreed to cover for me.”

The thought of Jacaerys and Lucerys filled him with something between rage and jealousy. For nine years he had seethed at the thought of them spending time with her, of them not appreciating her for what she was. Now she was here, with him, and yet her brothers seemed ever-present.

But he forced his face to remain passive, extending a hand to Aelinor with a small bow. “Well then, shall we?”

“Oh, we shall!” Aelinor beamed, grabbing his hand in hers. She ignored the proper etiquette, which would have demanded that she gently place her fingers in his, allow him to bow over it, and then quickly resume an appropriate distance. Instead she entwined her fingers through his, holding him tightly in her grip. It made Aemond’s head spin as he rose out of his bow. This was all so easy for her, to just fall into how things used to be, when all he could think about was how much things had changed.

He opened the door to the library, allowing her to step through first before following. She let their joined hands fall to her side, his knuckles brushing the soft velvet of her dress.

The King’s library was one of Aemond’s favourite places in the castle, and it had been since he was a child. The looming shelves cast a dark shadow across the room, which on a normal night would create an almost unsettling atmosphere. But the first thing Aelinor saw when she stepped into the room was the small table set up in front of the large picture window, with dozens of small candles propped up on piles of books to accentuate the light of the moon. It had taken Aemond close to an hour to get everything perfect, but from the smile on Aelinor’s face, he had succeeded.

“Aemond, this is wonderful!” She exclaimed, letting her hand slide from his as she rushed forward, spinning around to take it all in. “However did you manage all this?”

“A prince has his ways,” He said with false bravado.

She gave a little snort, quickly covering her mouth as she looked away. He grinned, deciding to let that pass without teasing her. 

“You’re ridiculous,” She shook her head.

“Only the best,” He stepped past her and pulled out a chair. “Princess?”

With an exaggerated swish of her skirts, Aelinor dropped into the chair. He had removed the heavy oak table, shoving it into one of the aisles out of sight, and pushed one of the smaller study tables up against the window bench. When they were younger, they had spent many hours curled up on that bench while Aemond read stories to her, but he had opted for two chairs this time.

He grabbed the rolling cart from one of the aisles, pouring some wine into both of their glasses before filling a third glass with some sweet ale, which he set in front of her. Only then did he sit in his own seat.

Aelinor was studying the spread of food on the cart, which was laden with enough bread, meat, cheese and desserts to feed a small village.

“You intend to serve us yourself?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course,” He took a sip of his wine. “We can’t very well keep this a secret if I have a flight of servants waiting on us.”

She glanced toward the table, with its silver place settings, and then to the many candles flickering around them. “And these?”

“All done by myself,” He added. “I didn’t cook, obviously, but the cook is hardly going to reveal us.”

She was silent for a long moment, and he worried that perhaps he had gone too far. He knew that his brother would ridicule him for putting in this much work, for spending an hour arranging candles and folding napkins, but he had strived to make everything perfect.

But Aelinor just smiled. “It is exceptional. You have given me quite the challenge to beat you next time.”

Next time . The thought filled him with warmth.

Aelinor took a sip of her ale, turning to look out the window. “The city hasn’t changed.”

“Did you expect it to?” He asked.

She shook her head. “I’m not sure. But I think it’s reassuring, in a way. That no matter how much else is different, the view from the library is the same.”

“I suppose that’s true. But what all do you think has changed?”

Aelinor hummed, considering her answer. Aemond took the opportunity to begin serving some of the bread and cheese, serving it smoothly onto their plates.

“Everything and nothing has changed.” She said finally. “The halls are the same, but the tapestries are different. The Kingsguard is the same, but some of the knights are new. And the courtiers still whisper and scheme, but I’m more aware of it now. So perhaps that hasn’t changed, and only I have. And you…”

He looked up quickly. “I have changed?”

She nodded slowly. “You have.”

He felt his heart drop from his chest. Was this it, then? Had she finally seen him for what he had become, and she was turning away? Perhaps the whispers of the court had already reached her and turned her mind.

Aelinor saw the worry on his face, and reached across the table to squeeze his wrist. “You have changed, Aemond. You’re even better than I remembered.”

Gods, was he blushing. Embarrassment flooded him, and he coughed quickly to hide it. “You don’t wear your glove anymore.”

Aelinor lifted her injured hand, letting the draped fabric of the sleeve fall away to reveal the injury. “I do, just not if I can help it. I’m sure I’ll wear one to the ball tomorrow.”

“You shouldn’t if you don’t want to.” He insisted. 

She smiled. “Then maybe I won’t.”

They fell into comfortable silence as they ate the first part of their meal, each of them sneaking glances when they thought the other wasn’t looking.

Aelinor spread some soft cheese on her bread, peering around the empty library. “This room doesn’t seem to get much use anymore.”

“No,” Aemond admitted. “I come when I can, but only the Maesters visit to maintain it.”

“Hm,” She frowned. “And my Grandfather?”

Aemond shook his head. “I have not seen him well enough to get out of bed in several months. He has not visited in…a long time.”

Aelinor turned her head, studying a set of heavy mahogany doors. “His chambers are right through there?”

“Yes.”

“And he is not even well enough to travel to the next room,” She sighed. “It is…it saddens me to hear it.”

“It saddens us all,” Aemond agreed, not liking the melancholy expression that had overcome her face. “But you must tell me more of you, Lina.”

“Like what?”

“Like…” He searched for something to distract her. “Darrax. You are flying now? What is he like?”

The thought of her dear dragon caused a bright smile to spread across her face. “Darrax is…he is a dream. He was ever so patient when I was learning to fly, and now he is a positive beast, in the best of ways.”

“He’s grown, then?” 

“Yes. He is only slightly smaller than Vermithor. Though truthfully he still grows, and I have not seen Vermithor in several years.”

“But he’s bigger than the dragons your brothers have?”

Aelinor gave him a sly look. “Of course he is. Did you ever doubt it?”

“Certainly not,” Aemond popped a bite of cheese in his mouth. “He’s bonded to a true Targaryen princess, I would expect nothing less.”

It took him a moment to realize what he had said, and by then Aelinor’s eyes had only darkened.

“That was unkind, Aemond.” She said quietly.

“I did not mean…” He said hurriedly. “Only that you are…and that they are…”

“I know what you meant, Aemond.” She sighed. “May I be frank with you?”

“Always.” He was internally cursing himself for letting his inner thoughts slip. These years at court, far away from the Princess Rhaenyra’s family, had made him forget himself.

“I know what people say about us, about my mother and my brothers,” She began, excluding herself from the group. “And there is not much I can do to stop it. But I would hope for better from you. If only out of…out of your affection for me.”

“I swear, Lina. I only meant—”

“I know you are loyal to your mother, and perhaps even to your brother, but I had hoped that—”

“Lina!” He exclaimed, reaching across the table. Her hand was too far away for him to reach, which was probably for the best. “I swear, my loyalty…there is nothing that could compete with my affection for you.”

That was dangerously close to a declaration, and both of them knew it.

Aemond slowly drew his hand back across the table. “May I ask you a question? One that is perhaps a bit…frank?”

“Of course you may,” Her wide violet eyes were sparkling with the candlelight.

Aemond swallowed, trying to organize the jumble of thoughts in his mind. “Is it…only we had heard rumours…about you and Jacaerys.”

“Oh,” She glanced down at her lap. “Yes. It would seem so.”

His fingernails dug into the table. “And you…you’re happy with this?”

Gods, if she said she was unhappy to be marrying Jace, he wasn’t sure what he might do. He might censor himself around Aelinor, but there was no way that that grubby bastard deserved her. 

Aelinor just shrugged. “It is my mother’s wish, and I am willing to do what she asks.”

“But are you happy?”

“Was Aegon happy to marry Helaena?”

He saw the point she was trying to make, but if she knew the truth of it, knew what kind of a leech his brother had become, or how wretchedly unhappy Helaena was, she would not be drawing the comparison. 

‘If you…if you didn’t want to…”

“Then I’m sure my mother would respect that choice,” Aelinor said, and he sensed that she honestly believed that. “It’s alright, Aemond.”

It wasn’t even close to alright, but he had to pretend that it was. For her. He had to pretend that he wasn’t fighting the urge to run Jacaerys through with his sword, and Lucerys too, just for good measure. 

“But enough about me,” Aelinor said. “Tell me of Vhagar. You had only ridden her once the last time we saw each other.”

It was easy to let her change the subject, though the thought of her and Jace loomed in his mind as they dissolved into easy conversation that carried them well into the night. Eventually Aelinor migrated from her chair to the cushioned window seat, gesturing impatiently until Aemond took a seat at her side.

She rested her cheek on the cold window, sighing happily. Aemond stared, trying to memorize her features. She was content and a bit sleepy, but still smiling brightly as she looked at the dull lights of King’s Landing below them, and he found that he wanted to remember her forever.

“Are you happy to be back?” He asked quietly.

She shifted closer, her thigh brushing against his knee. “I don’t know that I’ve ever been this happy.” She admitted. “It’s like coming home.”

“I’ve missed you so much,” He whispered.

“Gods, I’ve missed you too.” She lifted her head to face him. “I honestly thought that we might never see each other again.”

“But we did. We have.” His fingers traced over her injured hand, gliding up her wrist before gently lacing his fingers through hers. “You can’t imagine how empty this place has been without you.”

“Can’t I?” She chuckled. “Try being at Dragonstone. With only Luc and J—”

“Don’t talk about them.” He frowned. 

“Why Aemond,” Aelinor teased, leaning closer. “Are you jealous?”

He felt himself being drawn in, until they were only a breath apart. “Always, Lina. Always.”

Her eyes were fluttering closed, her face shifting until he felt her nose brush against his. Another second, another breath and they would be—”

The heavy mahogany door creaked behind them, and they jerked away.

“What was that?” Aelinor exclaimed.

Aemond jumped up and studied the door to his father’s chambers. It was firmly closed, but still, someone must have opened it for it to have made a sound. It was too heavy to creak in a passing draft.

“It must have been one of the maesters.” He said finally. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

“If they saw…” Aelinor began. 

If they saw what they had been about to do. How close Aemond had just come to ruining Aelinor’s reputation. She was engaged, and he had almost…almost…

Gods, why hadn’t he kissed her. 

“I’ll track them down in the morning,” He promised. “But I’m sure we have nothing to worry about.”

Aelinor didn’t look convinced, but she nodded anyway. Standing slowly from the bench, she smoothed out her dress. “I should get back.”

It was past midnight, and tomorrow was the ball. He shouldn’t have kept her this long, and yet he hadn’t been able to help himself.

“I’ll walk you back to your chambers.”

“No, someone might see,” She sighed, reaching out to give his hand a squeeze. “Thank you, Aemond. Tonight was perfect.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Of course you will,” She smiled. “Save me a dance?”

“Always.”

#house of the dragon #hotd #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #fanfiction #fanfic #lady of the ashes

[myheartwantstocomehome]

Very Epic Intro Post: :3

Hi!!! I’m Kovu :) There’s not really a lot to know about me to be honest… uhh i really like cheese and i play guitar?

Name: Kovu

Pronouns: He/They

From: England

Like: Cheese, Burgundy,

Dislikes: Broccoli

Please Interact if:

lgbtqia+, emo, scene, if you like any of the music i listed below, neurodivergent folk :)

MUSIC:

My spotify wrapped usually has my top artists as: 5SOS, Boys of Fall, SayWeCanFly, All Time Low

but here’s a comprehensive alphabetical list of *most* the bands i like:

a day to remember, alesana, alive like me, the all american rejects, all time low, amber pacific, american hifi, the amity, addiction , anarbor , andy black, arborview, as it is, asking alexandria, avril lavine, beartooth, before their eyes, between you and me, black veil brides, blessthefall, blink 182, bowling for soup, boys like girls, bring me the horizon, broadside, busted, caslow, castle field, charlotte sands, chase atlantic, chiodos, cute is what we aim for, crooked teeth, dance gavin dance, a day to remember, emarosa, escape the fate, every avenue, the faim, falling in reverse ,fall out boy, first and forever, forever the sickest kids, fountains of wayne, franz ferdinand, the friday night boys, future palace, games we play, get scared, the ghost inside, good charlotte, grayscale, green day, hey violet, hot chelle rae, hot milk, i prevail, i the mighty, the teenage janoskians, jayxander, jimmy eat world, jxdn, knox, knuckle punch, like pacific, linkin park, louis tomlinson, loveless, mgk, madrona, the maine, makeout, mason levi , mayday parade, mccoy, midnight skies, milestones, misplaced, modsun, movements, mcr, neck deep, newfound glory, the offspring, of mice and men, oh weatherly, our last night, p!atd, paramore, pierce the veil, the red jumpsuit apparatus, sarah barrios, senses fail, set it off, silverstein, simple creatures, simple plan, a skylit drive, sleeping with sirens, sleep on it , stand, atlantic, state champs, state of survival , a step ahead, stiff dylan’s, story of the year, the story so far, story untold, the summer set, sundressed, taking back sunday, thirty seconds to mars , tonight alive, underoath, ur pretty, the used, wage war, waterparks , we are the in crowd, we the kings, we were sharks, with confidence, the wrecks, wstr , yellow card, yours truly, you vs yesterday, zebra head

DNI:

Pretty simple DNI, don’t be a jerk, don’t be pr0 the usual (anything involving self inflicted injury, or d1s0rd3d shenanigans, no general triggering stuff here plz :3) No creeps xx

I thinks that covers anything, thank you for your time <3

Socials: KovuIsAlive on everything (apart from discord)

#emo #spotify #pop punk #intro #intro post #emo core #emo kid #scene #music #scene kid #scenecore #emocore #scemo #scenemo #rawring 20s

[mingisnumber1bitch]

"𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙞𝙩"

your boyfriend mingi is so horny and needs to get off…so he rushes back to you the second he gets off stage.

pairing: boyfriend mingi x fem reader (afab) word count: 2.8k rating: mature/18+ (minors dni) genre: pwp, smut warnings/tags: established relationship w/ mingi, exhibitionism, post-performance power-fucking, rengoku hair mingi, spit, language, dirty talk, dom!mingi, soft!begging, needy/horny mingi

author’s note: this is a scenario that stays playing on repeat in my head…rengoku mingi could quite literally do anything to me so I’m glad I got to write about it in detail :p

This is a work of fiction and does not represent ATEEZ as individuals.

how’d you like it? lmk! enjoy, sluts ;)

You’re on your feet when you hear the sound of the boys chanting down the hallway approaching the green room after the performance. They’re usually all hyper after performing before the adrenaline rush wears off of them.

The door swings open and a loud Choi San appears still shouting the tune of HALAZIA. A smile paints your face and you laugh at the sight of him.

It was quite a good performance and they all looked mighty fine while doing it so you’re glad they seem to feel the same way.

Hongjoong trails behind San, Yunho at his side, then Yeosang who is being tormented by Wooyoung playfully smacking his butt as he walks, and then Jongho only to be pushed aside by Mingi as he darts past him. His sharp gaze is dead set on you.

He looked frustratingly sexy wearing that all-black suit. His yellow-orange-colored locks fall perfectly around his face accentuating his features. Not to mention the added bonus of him wearing his glasses. You swear you could eat him up right now. But the next thing he does is quickly pulling you out of your thoughts.

Without a word, Mingi grabs your wrist taking you with him. That smile leaves your face as it’s now painted with concern.

“What the hell Mingi! What happened, what’s wrong?”

He doesn’t say a word. His grip on your wrist is deadly; the veins in his hands pulsate as he pulls you across the room.

You look back while trying not to trip over your own feet and see Seonghwa standing there as the last one to arrive with a look of shock on his face as if to say ‘what did I miss?’ before you’re leaving through the opposite exit.

It all happened so fast. You’re swiftly pulled into what seems to be an empty office room and only catch a glimpse of Mingi’s intense gaze before he slams the door shut. Everything goes black.

“Are you okay!? What-” Your back hits the wall hard. Mingi’s hand is around the back of your head protecting it.

Your words are cut off by the all-too-familiar feeling of Mingi’s lips crashing against yours. The kiss is desperate. His big lips encase yours, teeth clashing against each other. He grasps the side of your jaw as his other arm wraps around your back pulling you impossibly closer to him.

You pull away, “Mingi-” Before you could say another word, your breath is stolen again as his lips with not leave yours.

Small moans escape his mouth into yours.

His lips leave yours and move down now eagerly working at your neck. You subconsciously bring your hands up to now entangled in his fire-colored locks.

The feeling of his plush lips against your skin is something you think you’ll never get tired of. Although, the softness of his lips isn’t doing much to lessen how aggressive he’s being right now.

“You scared me I-” You are breathless, “I thought something was wrong-” You gasp at the sensation of his finger swiping against your slit from over your panties. You didn’t even notice his hand come up from under your skirt.

“Fuck, Mingi…” Your words are breathy as your chest frantically rises and falls.

“I could barely,” He kisses your upper neck, “fucking focus,” And then some more, “on stage because of you,” His lips cling to your skin again.

He squeezes your upper thigh from under your skirt. You wince at the sensation.

So that’s what this is about?

Mingi performed beautifully as usual. Although, you did notice his rap seemed a little less steady than normal.

“I didn’t do anything…I just- I just watched you perform.”

“Is that why you’re soaked right now?” There’s a teasing tone to his voice as he moves your thong aside and runs his middle finger from your bud to your wet hole. Small moans die in your mouth as you clench around nothing.

“Y-yes, watching you perform…so fucking hot, Min.” You can barely get the words out as the feeling of his digits grazes your clit irritatingly slowly.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about fucking you…” His voice is deep, vibrating against your skin, “So please…won’t you let me, baby?”

“Here!?”

You know the risk of someone walking in on you is something Mingi loves but this was all so sudden and staff is definitely gonna be on both of your asses just from his disappearing alone.

“Mhm…” His lips will not leave your collarbone for a second.

Not like we haven’t done it before

You move both hands to hold the sides of his face, “Yes, please,” you bring his lips to yours.

His lips never leave yours as he impatiently pulls up your skirt. Immediately after, he quickly unbuttons his pants, pulling them and his underwear down just below his ass. The sound of his cock flinging out and slapping his stomach sends that all too familiar throbbing down to your core.

In a lust-filled blur, you feel Mingi’s large hands grip under your thighs easefully lifting you up against the wall and your legs wrap around his waist…his sinfully small waist. His frame is so much larger compared to yours, he shadows over you even when he’s holding you up. You grasp his shoulders before your arms naturally wrap around the back of his neck. His cockhead is weeping with anticipation as it teases your core.

“You distracted me while I was working.”

“I didn’t-”

Your words are cut off by the intrusion of Mingi’s middle and pointer finger entering your mouth. You whine around them.

“Spit, baby.”

Without hesitation, you immediately encase his fingers with your saliva, slightly gagging when the tip of his middle finger hits the back of your throat. His fingers are just so big.

Mingi retracts his fingers in the next second leaving your lips with a wet pop sound. A cold trail of saliva connects your lips and his fingertips before it’s broken when he reaches down to your pulsating cunt.

You gasp at the sensation of his two fingers, sticky with your spit, smearing over your hole. But, that doesn’t last long before it’s replaced by the feeling of Mingi rubbing his cockhead along your slit which has you crying out. Fuck he felt so good like this. You can’t help the involuntary action of rolling your hips along with his movements (as much as this restricting position offered you).

You whimper loudly when he forcefully thrusts his length inside of you. Mingi was so frustratingly big.

“Fuck, Mingi!” You whimper against his neck followed by a string of expletives.

Small whines die in your throat when he adjusts his hands to grip under your ass spreading you further apart as he sinks you lower onto his cock until he bottoms out.

Your body was more than familiar with Mingi’s large size but with the lack of foreplay, he felt even bigger than usual. Kind of reminds you of your first time together.

“Mmpht-” You wince, “too big, Minnie.”

“Aw…” He teases, “C’mon, baby, you can take it.”

You tighten your arms around the back of his neck as every half-thrust has you whimpering into his neck. His scent only turns you on more; the mixture of cologne, hair product, and sweat all intertwined in a perfect mess to drive you crazy.

He hasn’t even given you his full length yet but with the way you keep clenching around him, he’s afraid he’ll come undone soon before he wants to.

“Mingi…” You moan out, “Mingi”

“Hm, baby?” He kisses at that same spot he was previously working at on your neck.

“Please, Mingi”

“Please what? Tell me what you want.”

“Just fuck me, Mingi…please!-”

You wince when Mingi enters you fully…and his thrusts are merciless. The pounding sound of his hips and balls slapping against you is lewd, to say the least. And although he is selfishly power-fucking you right now, he always knows how to move his hips in just the right way to please you too. Something that warms your heart but also has that euphoric bundle of knots twisting in your lower abdomen right now. But alas, he is a tease.

Without warning he pulls out leaving your abused cunt clenching around nothing. Both of you attempt to catch your breath as he releases your ass. You would’ve fallen if he wasn’t quick to steady you…a loving gesture, until he’s manhandling your body turning you around to face the wall.

It all happened so suddenly. Mingi bent you forward as his one hand grips your hip, sure to leave a bruise later, and his other hand grasps the area between your neck and shoulder.

His crown enters you again, length disappearing inside of you as he bottoms out. You cry out when he’s rolling his hips back and his tip grazes up against your sweet spot. With his hand still on your hip, his thumb rubs over your ass.

“Want you to cum for me, okay, baby?” His innocent demeanor contrasts his death grip on you right now.

Although Mingi was power-fucking you out of his own need, him knowing and seeing you cum on his dick was really what fulfilled his desire.

“Mm- Mhm…” You whine.

Ever-sensually, he begins rolling his hips now giving you some time to fit him comfortably. But, not too much time of course.

His pace quickens until he’s finding a rhythm again. And you know he’s especially getting off on how audibly filthy the sounds coming from your pussy are right now…but fuck it feels too good to be embarrassed.

“You feel so good, baby,” He thrusts into you, “tight…little cunt-”

Afraid someone will hear the sinful symphony you two are creating, you try to at least silence your moans but it’s useless as Mingi only fucks you harder. He only lets out a small laugh at your failed attempt. Mingi can be so cocky at times. And you don’t have to look to know he’s looking down at his work of pounding you from behind right now. It’s an erotic sight: you, ass up, panties pushed to the side, and your skirt scrunched up. Mingi absolutely revels in seeing you like this; all spread out, all for him.

He spits on your ass, it trails down to where you’re being stretched out by his girth as he continues his relentless pace. The position he’s put you in feels dangerously satisfying right now. The way his thick cock keeps rubbing against your upper walls has your toes curling and your head going dizzy.

“Mingi- I’m gonna cum, gonna cum, fuck!”

“Cum on my dick, baby,” His sultry-deep inflection goes straight to your core sending you over the edge.

Your pulsating walls have him coming undone seconds later when you feel his hot release melt inside of you.

He hums contently, “Good girl.”

You’re both breathless as he slowly pulls out his wet cock. Mingi still supports your body as he rubs the tip of his cock along your abused fluttering cunt oozing with cum. You shudder beneath him as the small sense of overstimulation has your legs tensing up once again.

“Fuck, Mingi…” You feel him feed his cum back inside your hole with his finger.

“You did so well for me baby,” The sound of him zipping up his pants draws you back into the reality that you’re in some random office room.

Mingi supports your waist as he pulls your back up to stand against him. You can’t help but melt into him as you’re still basking in the aftereffects of your high. Gentle kisses pepper your shoulder as he adjusts your skirt to wear properly on you.

“Don’t get your…suit…dirty” You’re still fucked out.

He reaches over and flicks the light on. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust before you look down at the ground to see droplets of his cum scatter the tile.

“We have to clean this up.”

“Shh…I got it.”

Your head is still dizzy from all that’s happened you don’t even notice Mingi had taken off his suit jacket while still holding you up. He tosses it flat onto the couch, the lined side facing up before he sweeps you up off your feet and rests you on top of it.

You look over to see him already cleaning up the mess on the floor. He rushes to you shortly after.

“Mingi I’m fine we should get back-”

“I’ll be quick just let me take care of you,” He grabs some tissues.

Mingi adjusts your position on the couch, your legs draping off as he kneels in front of you. He lifts one leg up over his shoulder and begins gently wiping your inner thigh.

“I didn’t hurt you did I?” He places a loving kiss on your thigh.

Mingi kneeling before you is a sight that always makes your heart skip a beat. He looks so beautiful like this. Constellations in his eyes as he looks up at you with nothing but love. His bright yellow-orange dyed hair is a bit disheveled and his glasses are a little crooked.

“No,” You giggle and reach to fix his glasses, “you were…so fucking amazing, as usual,” You sigh leaning back into the couch again, “What about you, are you okay?”

He looks pleased with himself as he places another sweet kiss on your thigh before lightly biting the area. Your thigh tenses at the exhilarating sensation of his teeth barely sinking into it, “I’m okay, baby.”

Mingi releases your thigh and goes to tend to the other before you’re stopping him.

“Min, I love you but I’m really fine, we can do it when we get home.” It being aftercare but mostly just because you wanted to get out of there before someone walks in.

Although it was slightly uncomfortable and you both definitely reeked of sex, the boys had to be wondering where you two had gone, not to mention the staff is probably going to berate you the second you step out the door, you just wanted to get home. But first taking off these cum-soiled panties would make you feel a lot better.

“Lemme just take these off,” You go to pull up your skirt before Mingi is stopping you.

“Keep them on,” Mingi reaches under your skirt adjusting your panties so that the cloth is pressed up against your opening. His cum that has seeped out of your hole only dampening the already wet material even more. You see him subconsciously bite his bottom lip as he thumbs over the wet cloth against your folds. You shudder at the sensation.

“Baby,” You cup his face, “your breeding kink is showing again.”

“I can show you that later,” He kisses up your thigh landing dangerously close to your core, your hands running through his hair before he’s bringing his face to yours. He looks so innocent for someone with all this desire in their eyes.

You hold the sides of his face sinking into the embrace of his lips. Mingi’s lips are like heaven on earth. He feels so yummy with every small suckle and nip—god he’s such a good kisser.

You could easily get lost in the sensation of him for hours but alas, you are still in some random person’s empty office room and people are probably looking for you like hawks.

“C’mon,” You place your hands on his shoulders separating yourself from him, “your manager is gonna kill you.”

Mingi places a quick kiss on your lips before he’s helping you stand. He grabs his jacket and drapes it over his arm before he’s helping adjust your slightly disheveled outfit.

You turn, heading for the door before Mingi is stopping you. His arm is around your waist pulling your chest flush against his.

Mingi’s gaze pierces yours as he towers above you.

“I love you, baby, thank you,” His words are nothing but sincere as his lips graze over your ear.

“I love you too,” Your hand holds his cheek when you stand on your tippy toes bringing your lips to his, “my needy boy.”

And he was, but you can’t help but revel in all the yummy feelings you experience when Mingi gets so horny for you.

Feeling more than content with how this entire pleasurable ordeal went, you make your way to the door, Mingi directly right behind you, his hand never leaving your lower back.

You swing open the door to find Hongjoong standing there with his arms crossed and a pissed expression.

Shit

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