#almost messaged the bastard but gave up

[roosterforme]

Wrong Number | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was planning on a quiet night at home with a beer and a basketball game on TV. When he receives a text from a wrong number, he's left looking at a beautiful photo of you. Now he just needs to persuade you to ditch the guy you meant to text and focus on him instead.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, slight dirty talk, Bradley touching himself

Length: 4700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written for Rocktober. Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @thedroneranger

Bradley had endured such a long week at work, all he wanted to do was change out of his uniform, grab a beer from his fridge and lounge around on the couch in his underwear without a responsibility in sight. Nobody should have to work until ten on a Friday night, but it had taken him that long to sort through the massive stack of paperwork from Admiral Simpson. At least now he had nothing planned for the rest of his evening.

His apartment was too hot, and the cold bottle of beer pressed to his bare thigh as he reached for the TV remote left some droplets of condensation. It felt good. He took another sip as his phone vibrated next to him. With a soft grunt, he abandoned the remote in favor of the phone and unlocked it with his pass code.

There was a new text from an unknown number. And there was a photo attached. He grimaced, afraid of what he was going to find if he tapped on it. He read the phone number twice, but it didn't sound familiar beyond the San Diego area code. He let his head tip back as he recalled the time he pissed Nat off and she gave his phone number to a random sailor in retaliation. Bradley really hoped he wasn't going to have to kindly ask someone to stop sending him dick pics like last time. 

Before he lost the nerve, he tapped on the message, and his screen was suddenly filled with a photo of a woman who looked just a few years younger than him. And she was hot. He paused with his beer bottle halfway to his lips before letting it settle back down to his thigh. 

Hey, Alan. It's me. So now you have my phone number, too.

Bradley didn't know who the hell Alan was, but he wasn't mad about the mix-up. This photo was something else. It almost looked like it was taken in the bathroom at the Hard Deck. The lighting was bad, and there was a paper towel dispenser in the background, but whoever you were.... damn, you were stunning. All pretty features and smiling like you had a secret. 

It took him a moment to stop staring at the photo and return to the previous screen and your message. He was going to have to tell you that he wasn't Alan and that you had the wrong number, but he just sat there and tapped his phone case instead. He didn't even like the name Alan, but damn if he didn't want to be Alan right now. That lucky bastard had you interested in him. 

Bradley was wondering how the mix-up happened in the first place as he drafted up a text to you. Only some sort of fucking idiot wouldn't check and double check that he gave you the right number. "Amateurs," he mumbled as he typed with a little smirk on his face.

Hey, sorry to inform you, but this actually isn't Alan. However, I wouldn't mind one bit if you kept sending me the photos that are meant for him.

He hit send and tossed his phone aside, assuming you'd just block him and move on with your night. He brought his beer bottle back to his lips and enjoyed the way the drink helped cool him down while he contemplated taking a shower, but when he reached for the remote again, his phone vibrated. 

There was another message from the same number. Intrigued, Bradley unlocked his phone again, and he was pleased to see another text and another photo.

Hi, Not-Alan. Sorry about that! I hope you have a great night.

This photo was similar to the first one, except that you were flipping him the peace sign and winking which made Bradley laugh. You seemed fun, even through this limited interaction. And he was sure that was the ladies' bathroom at the Hard Deck, which pissed him off, because he got out of work so late he didn't feel like going out tonight. Maybe if he had been there, you wouldn't have been talking to Alan in the first place.

"Damn it." He was intrigued. He wanted to know more about this.

My night is substantially better now that I have two photos of you. So where did Alan get off to anyway? And why is he trying to steal my phone number?

This time Bradley was dying for another response. But it didn't come. He stared at his phone for a solid minute before returning to his beer and downing the rest of the bottle. Still nothing. He stood and made his way into the kitchen, tossing his empty into the recycling bin before getting another one from the fridge and eyeing up the food situation. He should probably eat something, but he swore he heard his phone vibrating. When he looked over to the couch, the screen was lit up. 

He slammed the fridge door and opened the new bottle before heading back to his phone. There was no photo this time, but there was a new message.

I actually lost Alan in the crowd, so really, the man could be just about anywhere. And I don't think he was trying to steal your number at all, Not-Alan. He wrote it on my palm, and it smeared before I could add it to my phone.

"Okay," Bradley said out loud. "Now we're getting somewhere." He sat down on the couch with his beer on the coffee table and started a new message. 

Alan should learn how to write neater in the future, because he's missing out here. You have to double check that someone who looks like you got the number right. Everyone knows that.

Bradley decided that he was going to have no shame for the night. Not as long as you kept writing back to him. He was contemplating how to save your number in his phone when another selfie with a message came through. You were out by the bar at the Hard Deck with a smile on your face, and you were holding up your palm complete with Bradley's smeared phone number.

Does this number look familiar, Not-Alan? Still no actual Alan in sight, by the way. 

Bradley supposed that the 7 could have been mistaken for a 1. Or maybe Alan's phone number had a 5 that got smeared into a 6. It didn't really matter. Bradley was going to shoot his shot and hope Alan didn't resurface. 

Good, Alan can just stay lost. What's your name, pretty girl?

Then he saved your number as Pretty Girl, and this time he did manage to turn the TV on while he waited with his phone in his hand. He muted the Clippers game and picked up his beer before promptly setting it back down again.

Pretty Girl: Not so fast, Not-Alan. You tell me your name first. And how old you are. And your blood type and the last four of your social security number. 

Bradley laughed and started typing. He realized he hadn't stopped smiling for the last twenty minutes as he hit send.

I'm Bradley. I'm 34. O positive. 2305.

On a regular night, the basketball game would have held his attention, but tonight he couldn't stop looking at his phone. "Come on, Pretty Girl," he muttered, running his beer bottle along his thigh before taking a sip. 

Pretty Girl: Okay, Bradley. You have my attention. Send me a selfie exactly where you are, and I'll think about telling you my name. No changing into something nicer. No fixing your hair. Just a selfie. Right now.

Bradley looked down at himself in just his black boxer briefs and mumbled, "If you say so." When he set his phone camera to selfie mode, he looked at the screen and realized his hair still looked pretty decent from work. So he went ahead and took a picture where he was wearing a bit of a skeptical smirk, and he sent it before he could think twice. 

And now his heart was beating a little faster. This was probably where you'd stop responding. Oh hell, at least he went for it, but a few minutes later, you still hadn't sent anything back to him. Maybe he could have tried to hide the scars on his neck and cheek, but what was the point? Clearly you were sending him actual selfies you'd taken tonight, and he did exactly what you'd told him to. Then his phone vibrated.

Pretty Girl: Do you really expect me to believe that you're not just googling "hot shirtless guy with a mustache", downloading a photo, and trying to pass it off as yourself?

He tipped his head back and laughed. There was just something about you. He didn't even know your name or what your voice sounded like, but he could already tell he was going to like both of those things. If you ever told him or let him hear you.

That's really me. Promise. Will you tell me your name now? Or do I have to keep calling you Pretty Girl?

He was wondering if you were still at the bar, surrounded by guys like Alan who would love to take you home while you were chatting with him. And he hoped the next text would contain your name. But you just ignored him when you wrote back a few minutes later. 

Pretty Girl: Prove you're not just sending some photos of a random hot dude. Go stand by your open refrigerator and take a selfie. Then take another one with your toothbrush. 

"She's a handful," Bradley murmured as he stood with a smile. He carried his beer into the kitchen, opened his refrigerator and snapped a selfie where the fridge light somehow accentuated his features nicely. Then he left his beer on the counter while he went into his bathroom. He was actively trying not to smile for this one where he had his red toothbrush hanging out of the side of his mouth, but he was on the verge of laughing at how ridiculous his night turned out to be. 

He typed up a message and attached both photos and then sent them off while he finished his beer at the kitchen counter, Clippers game forgotten. 

What is this, Pretty Girl? A hostage negotiation? I already told you, that's really me.

It didn't take too long for you to respond this time, and Bradley wasn't even letting his screen dim long enough to need to unlock it now.

Pretty Girl: Are you naked in these photos?

"Jesus," he muttered. Of course he wasn't. Did you want him to be? Shit, he needed to stop thinking about that.

No! I'm wearing underwear. You told me not to get changed or anything.

He felt flushed and too warm as he set his phone down on the counter and went to open some windows. Then he walked a few laps around his apartment in an effort to chill the fuck out. He wasn't even with you, and you were under his skin. 

When he returned to his phone, there was a selfie and a message waiting for him. In the photo, you were sipping a drink, and the way the straw pressed to your perfect lips had him practically moaning. 

Pretty Girl: My friend thinks there's something wrong with me. I'm at a Navy bar in San Diego at the moment. There are hot guys galore, and yet I'm glued to my phone. 

"Shit, shit, shit." Bradley thought about getting dressed and heading out to the bar himself. Then maybe he could hear you tell him your name in person right before he pulled the straw away from your mouth and kissed you.

How much longer are you going to be at the Hard Deck, Pretty Girl?

Bradley started heading for his bedroom closet when his phone vibrated in his hand.

Pretty Girl: How do you know I'm at the Hard Deck? Do I need to smash my phone to bits and go into hiding?

"Fuck," he grunted, typing so quickly he had to go back and fix several spelling errors before he could send it. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable, so he paused before getting any clothing out of his closet.

Because I'm in the Navy, and I live in San Diego. And I recognized the inside of the bathroom from the first photo you sent me. I swear I'm not creepy. You can ask Penny, the bartender and owner of that fine establishment. I spend enough time there. Show her my photo.

Bradley collapsed onto his bed with his forearm over his eyes and his phone clutched to his chest. He didn't have to check the time to know it had been a while since he texted you. He also didn't have to look at his phone to know it was after midnight now and that you and he had been chatting for almost two hours. Bradley jolted when the phone vibrated against his chest.

Pretty Girl: Okay. Alright. Penny is a sweetheart, and your story checks out. Also, she told me your call sign and then told me to have you verify what it is for my own peace of mind. So what is it, Bradley? And how do you know what the ladies' restroom here looks like?

Oh, he was going to owe Penny big time. He typed away as he lay sprawled out on his bed.

My call sign is Rooster. And as for your bathroom question.... are you really going to make me answer that?

Bradley closed his eyes and thought about the girl who had taken him into the bathroom with her last year. He was pretty sure she had brown hair, but other than that, he couldn't really recall. But he did remember looking at that paper towel holder on the wall and the framed photo of an F/A-14 that was hanging over it while he was in there with her. 

He wouldn't mind taking a trip there with you, that was for sure. Or maybe you and he could skip the scandalous bar hookup and just go right to dinner or a movie. For some reason, he thought he might actually prefer that.

Pretty Girl: Be back soon. I'm getting a ride home.

Bradley mused out loud, "It better not be from Alan." Shit, he could have offered to go pick you up and make sure you got home safely. He'd only had those two beers all night, and now he was picturing some faceless guy named Alan driving you home and pawing at you.

He texted you back.

Let me know when you get home, okay? And you can always just call me.

With a sigh, he got out of bed and plugged his phone in, not sure what to expect at this point. He went back into the bathroom and used his red toothbrush. And then he went back to the living room and closed all the windows. When he was in his room again, he had no new notifications as he climbed in bed. He was about to text you again and check in when his phone rang.

CALL FROM Pretty Girl

Bradley was smiling as he answered. "Hey, Pretty Girl."

A soft laugh preceded your voice, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek as you said, "Hi, Bradley with the O positive blood. Are you trying to tell me that you were in that bar bathroom with a girl?"

He found himself laughing. "Can I plead the fifth?"

When you moaned softly, he dropped his phone onto the pillow and had to scramble to get it. "Oh, my god. Even your voice is sexy."

Okay. He should not be on the verge of touching himself after you spoke three whole sentences to him. "You make it home safely?" he asked, trying to play it cool as he thought about those photos you sent him. 

"Mmhmm. A very nice man named Alan drove me home. He's right here next to me as I get changed for bed."

Bradley thought for a beat that he had met his match in you. "You better be lying. You know what, put Alan on the phone."

Your laughter filled him up as you said, "He's not really here. I had to ditch him, because he doesn't even have a mustache. Apparently that's a deal breaker for me now?"

Holy shit. Bradley was in trouble. He was getting turned on, and you weren't even really saying anything dirty. "You're killing me. You gonna tell me your name, Pretty Girl?"

"No. I think I'm going to hold onto it a little longer."

"Fine. But please explain to me how I've never seen you at the Hard Deck before. I'm certain I would remember your face."

Your voice sounded a little softer now as you said, "I just moved to Coronado. It was my first time at the bar."

If he hadn't worked so late today, Bradley would have probably been there tonight as well. "You had fun? You think you'll go back again?"

"Probably," you replied casually. "When do you think you'll be there?"

Bradley was so warm he was starting to sweat. "Pretty Girl, you just say the word, and I'll clear my whole damn calendar."

Your little sighs and soft giggles were going to be the death of him. "You know, I still have Alan's, or rather your phone number on my hand."

He imagined himself kissing your palm and rewriting his phone number. "Should be in my handwriting. I'll make sure I always bring a pen with me to the bar."

You cleared your throat softly, and Bradley imagined you climbing into bed. "Penny told me to watch out for some of the other guys. But she said you're okay."

"Just okay?"

"Actually, she called you a big, brown eyed puppy dog."

Bradley laughed. "I've been called worse."

"I'm sure you have," you replied quickly. "You deserve some sort of punishment for daring to look good with a mustache."

"It's a blessing and a curse. Now, are you going to send me another photo? Or are you going to just agree to meet me tomorrow night?"

He heard a rustling noise and then you softly said, "Alan is not going to like this one bit." And then another photo arrived, and this one had Bradley's mouth hanging open. 

"Now it's my turn to ask if you're naked in this picture." He was taking in every inch of your exposed skin and your bedding tucked up to your collar bones. You took your makeup off for bed, and you looked cozy and intimate. And you were talking to him. You were letting him see this. Bradley had to actively think about not touching himself. 

"Totally naked."

"Fuck."

"Send me another one?"

"Yeah," he grunted, swallowing hard as he tried to pose for another selfie just how he was, sprawled out on his pillow with his left arm bent and tucked back behind his head. But his cheeks looked flushed, and his eyes looked darker than usual. He was turned on. 

Fuck it. He snapped the photo and sent it. And about ten seconds later, he was greeted with the strangled sound you made.

"It should be illegal for someone with that mustache to look so good. It's rude, honestly. Bradley, you're kind of rude, because now I want to know...."

He was hanging on your every word. "Know what, Pretty Girl?"

The call went completely silent before you said softly and sweetly, "What your mustache feels like...everywhere."

A soft, startled laugh escaped his lips. You were on the verge of some dirty talk now, he could just tell. And his cock was hard as he replied with, "I'd love to let you find out. But before you respond, I need to know how much you've had to drink tonight. I don't want to take advantage of anything here."

You whimpered on the other end of the call. "A mustache, brown eyes, and a gentleman? All Alan did for me was buy me those two Long Island iced teas."

Bradley grunted and said, "That's enough about Alan. Why don't you go ahead and tell me where you'd like to feel my mustache first, Pretty Girl."

You squeaked and said, "I want to feel it rough along my skin right below my ear while you whisper to me. Oh my god, I can't believe I said that out loud. I should just go to bed."

"Don't hang up," Bradley said, panting with need now. "Tell me more."

"Okay," you sighed with another little squeak. "I want to feel it on my lips. While I'm sitting in your lap, licking the taste of that beer you drank from your mouth."

"Holy shit," he groaned, palming himself through his boxer briefs.

"I know," you whined with need. "And I want to feel it on the back of my neck while you do filthy things to me. And I don't even know you!"

"You will," he guaranteed. "Please, tell me what time I can meet you tomorrow."

Bradley listened to the rustle of your sheets as he waited. Then you finally said, "Seven o'clock? At the Hard Deck?"

"I'll be there, Pretty Girl. I can't wait to see you."

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

It was barely even 6:30, but you were already at the bar all made up and wearing a cute dress. Penny recognized you right away, which was kind of nice and kind of embarrassing. When she asked if you wanted another Long Island, you waved her off and said, "Nothing yet. I'm meeting someone."

Her eyes lit up as she asked, "Is it Rooster?"

You'd barely slept all night, preferring to look at the four selfies he'd sent you after you ended the call around two. There was a little more dirty talk, sure, but you and he also learned a bit more about each other. And now you were going to meet this naval aviator who was originally from Virginia but loved the Los Angeles Clippers face to face. 

"Yeah. It's Rooster."

Penny looked truly delighted. "You have nothing to worry about. He's very sweet."

"Tell that to the butterflies," you muttered as you placed one hand on your stomach for a beat, willing the nerves to dissipate as you walked away. You'd told Bradley you wanted his mustache on your body. In several places. And then he told you he thought you were so pretty and fun that he wanted to kiss you everywhere. And right now you were just mystified as to how this could have possibly happened only a week after you moved to this neighborhood. And you still didn't know what happened to Alan after you went to the ladies' bathroom and saved the wrong number in your phone.

You laughed when you thought about it, and then you ran your hands along the fabric of your dress. You were so antsy, your palms were sweaty. You looked down at yourself and just got more nervous. Bradley hadn't seen much of your body in the photos you'd sent to him. You'd seen plenty of his though, and he looked tall and muscular even next to his damn refrigerator. And his face was gorgeous, right down to that sinful looking mustache. 

And you were just... you. Alan was really more your speed with his nerdy glasses and messy hairstyle and his lack of ability to even grow any sort of facial hair at all. You just hoped that Bradley wouldn't take one look at you in person and walk right back out of the bar. 

You were about to tell Penny that you thought you needed a drink after all when the door caught your eye, and Bradley strolled into the bar like he owned the place. "Oh...fuck," you whispered, gaping at him as he ran his fingers through his hair. The photos hadn't even done him justice. He had to be over six feet tall, and he was so broad and muscular, he looked like he could pick you up and toss you around a little bit. "Shit." He was wearing some snug fitting jeans and a tropical print shirt like he just knew he could pull off the most ridiculous look. "Damn." He was glancing around, trying to find you while you started scouring the room unsuccessfully for another exit. 

You were trapped in here, and he was walking further into the bar now. And you didn't think you could hide halfway behind this couple who was making out for very much longer.  

As Bradley's eyes scanned the crowd again, he looked a little apprehensive. His brow was scrunched, and he checked the time on his watch. You knew it was almost seven. So you took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then you scooted one step to your left. When his gaze came your way again, his eyes landed on you. And then his face softened. The apprehension melted away, and he smiled a cute and somehow sexy little grin that made you whimper.

Now he was heading your way, his gait sure and steady. And then he was just a few feet away and you could see the scars on his face that you'd studied all night in the photos. And you could see the flecks of gold in his eyes that somehow the selfies didn't capture. And then he was talking, and his voice was even better in person.

"Pretty Girl."

Okay, so he'd seen you up close, and he wasn't running away. That had to be a good sign, right? You managed to say just one slightly breathless word. "Hi." And then his smile grew, and he was closing the space between your body and his. He was reaching for your face and running one rough thumb along your cheek. And then he kissed you.

And the soft scrape of his mustache was even better than all of the ways you'd spent your night imagining it might feel. You couldn't help but return his kiss, and somehow your hands ended up pressed to the front of him, sliding up to his chest. 

When he broke the kiss, he stayed close, his lips not far from your face. He covered your hands with his, keeping them on his body. And then he leaned close to your ear, his mustache scraping along your soft skin there as he whispered, "Tell me your name, Pretty Girl. I'm dying here."

Soft laughter bubbled out of you as he pulled away from you a bit, and those butterflies were going wild. His eyes were fixed on your face, begging for an answer this time as he stroked your hands with his thumbs. And then you told him, and he tried your name out on his tongue a few times with that grin that you liked so much. He kept saying it softly until you kissed him this time, and then he guided your arms around his neck. 

"Listen," he said in that raspy voice that you'd love to focus on all night. "I have no problem staying here for a while if you want to. I bet you could even persuade me to join you in the ladies' room."

"Sounds tempting," you told him with a smirk.

"It really does. But we could also just ditch the bar and grab dinner instead? Maybe watch the Clippers game and have a drink at my place? I'm a little worried Alan might show up here and try to lure you away, if I'm being honest."

You practically snorted with laughter. "I can't even really remember what Alan looks like. He was totally gone from my mind after the first selfie you sent me. Let's get out of here."

He took you by the hand. "Anything you want, Pretty Girl."

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

I love dreamy loverboy Bradley, and I love Pretty Girl too. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[xiaoxo]

₊˚·७ HOPE THEY CAUGHT US

featuring — dazai osamu, edogawa ranpo, nakahara chuuya, y/l/n y/n

summary — when your boyfriend proposed the idea of fucking in a public place, you were intrigued to say the least.

warnings — dazai, ranpo, & chuuya x fem!reader (separate), smut, public sex, (almost) getting caught, dazai fucks you in chuuya’s office, nipple play, unprotected sex (pls be safe irl), self indulgent (minus chuuya, he’s for my best friend @kozuwhore), reader is part of a rich family in ranpo’s, mentions of marijuana use in ranpo’s, jealousy in chuuya’s, port mafia!reader in chuuya’s, deepthroating in chuuya’s, slightly dom!reader in chuuya’s, slightly sub!chuuya, pet names used

messages from the stars — title (and fic) inspired by doja cat 🫡

𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔

“tell me why you thought this was a good idea again?” you asked, feeling osamu pepper kisses down your neck. “because ever since our port mafia days, that bastard has been looking at you like he desires you. wanna ruin you in his office.”

you whimpered when he sucked the sweet part of your neck. fingers entangled in his hair, you grinded your hips against his clothed boner. you felt his hard-on poking against your panties, now soaked in your arousal.

“my my, someone’s desperate, bella,” he cooed, pecking your cheek. you looked away, flustered. he brought your face to look at him again. you stared into his wide, excited eyes. you couldn’t let him down, seeing how much desire he was feeling.

you began unbuttoning your black button-up, revealing the lacy black bra beneath. osamu immediately dove in between your breasts, kissing and sucking on the skin. your breasts were sensitive to his touch, making you whimper out.

“ ‘samu,” you whined, clawing at his hair. you felt yourself get wetter as he moved your bra down, sucking your nipples. leaning your head back, your eyes shot open when you heard footsteps outside the office.

dazai didn’t mind and kept sucking and biting. “osamu!” you whisper-snapped. “relax, darling. no one’s gonna come..except us,” he muttered against your breasts. you chewed on your bottom lip in nervousness.

after osamu was finally finished marking your breasts, he began taking his jacket off. you also began undressing more, peeling off your panties and skirt.

“god, you’re soaked,” he breathed out, running a line down your slit. you shuddered at the sudden feeling. “so sensitive too,” he chuckled to himself, unzipping his pants.

gripping your thigh, osamu kept your legs apart and slid his cock into your pussy.

he let out heavy pants with each thrust. you held onto him tightly. the desk shifted when he pounded into you, causing papers and documents to slide off. but all you could focus on was dazai’s dick inside you.

you didn’t even care about who could walk in, only focusing on cumming with your lover. light whimpers came from your lips, causing osamu to lean down and kiss them roughly.

the kisses were sloppy and slow, passionate too. dazai’s hands went to grip your hips to keep you firmly in place. the pleasure made your head spin, dizzy with bliss and euphoria.

you cried out in ecstasy as dazai rammed his cock into you, shooting his sperm inside your tight, wet hole. the feeling of his cum filling you up tipped you over the edge, cumming intensely.

both of you catching your breath, you didn’t even notice the footsteps approaching the office.

“the hell? why is my door locked?” your eyes widened in fear when hearing chuuya’s complaining from the other side of the door. dazai just gave you a cheeky grin before thrusting into you again.

𝐄𝐃𝐎𝐆𝐀𝐖𝐀 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐏𝐎

you really did not want to go to this event. but, your mother insisted. so, you dragged along your boyfriend as a plus one.

“don’t you think this is a bit too short, love?” he asked once you both met up at the event. “no, do you think it’s too short?” you asked, acting completely oblivious to the fact it rode up your thighs.

in reality, you wore the red dress on purpose—to rile ranpo up. he knew you were teasing him, and he wasn’t going to let it slide. you thought he would drag you home but no, he wanted to do it here and now.

you weren’t really a risky couple, other than the one time you both got high and had the munchies. but, ranpo wanted to go the extra mile this time. he wanted to get caught, wanted to show the world how good he made you feel. him and only him.

after chatting with a few family members and sharing a couple drinks, ranpo whispered in your ear if you wanted to get out of there.

“i’d thought you’d never ask,” you told him, smirking. he dragged you to the nearest bathroom and pinned you up against the wall. “ranpo, can’t you wait til we—mmph!—we get home?” you asked, feeling him trail kisses down your neck.

“can’t wait that long, dear. want you now,” he muttered attacking your neck with kisses and hickies. his hands palmed against your breasts before pulling the dress and bra down and exposing your bare breasts.

you hissed as the cold air hit your nipples. your boyfriend took a nipple in his mouth and began nibbling and sucking. “shouldn’t we at least get into the bathroom?”

you were still standing beside the bathroom door. it was a secluded area but it didn’t mean people couldn’t be needing the bathroom themselves and stumble upon you and your lover’s rendezvous.

pulling away, ranpo hurried you into the bathroom and didn’t bother locking the door. you were too consumed in edogawa indulging himself in your beautiful breasts to even realize however.

he pulled the dress up your thighs and rested around your waist, revealing your matching panties. he nearly salivated at the sight, biting his lip. all he wanted to do was eat you out until you were crying and pleading for more.

so, he began doing just that. pushing the lace to the side, he began sucking and devouring your warm and wet pussy, causing you to loudly moan. “careful darlin, don’t want your family to hear how much of a slut you are for me,” he chuckled, humming against your heat.

“ranpo, more, please!” you stifled out a moan. he began lapping his tongue faster against your clit and inserted it into your hole, darting in and out. leaning your head against the wall, you cried out in pure bliss.

“i’m so close! more please please please!” you begged and pleaded for ranpo to allow you to cum. “no, you’re not cumming without me,” he told you, straightening up.

he unzipped his pants and pulled out his hardened cock. hiking your leg up, he teased the tip along your slit before sliding it into your pussy slowly and teasingly. ranpo sighed out in pleasure when he finally thrusted into you.

he wanted to keep teasing you, but your pussy was so tight and kept luring him in for more that he couldn’t stop thrusting into your tight, wet hole. “ahh! baby you feel so good,” he moaned shamelessly, not caring one bit if you got caught.

“ranpo, ‘m close,” you breathed, wrapping your arms around him. your boyfriend pounded into you faster, hips stuttering as his cock twitched inside you. one hand grabbing your breast and the other entangling itself in your hair, he began squeezing and toying with your nipples as he gripped your hair tightly.

“you look so perfect like this. all mine, mine for me to love and corrupt,” he confessed, thrusting deep as he shot his cum into you. he moaned extra loud, enough for anyone outside to hear.

you weren’t too quiet either, moaning in euphoric bliss as you came. catching both your breaths, you leaned against each others shoulders, you clutching into ranpo’s suit jacket.

exiting the bathroom, you were meant with your uncle and aunt who practically raised you. your hair was messed up, your lipstick was smeared, and hickies adorned your neck. ranpo, on the other hand, had messy hair under his cap and lipstick stains on his lips.

your aunt and uncle stayed silent as they took in your post-sex states. “i hope you two stayed safe,” your aunt mentioned. “of course,” you said, staring at your lover with a forced smile.

𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀

going to the nightclub with your boyfriend was supposed to be a fun outing. that is until, the bartender started giving him free drinks but not you. in fact, she’d give you a nasty side eye when you clearly flirted with your boyfriend.

chuuya saw through your calm façade, but wanted to tease you a bit. he didn’t entertain the woman’s flirting, but didn’t do anything to stop it. all the times you flirted with dazai when he was still in the port mafia to make chuuya jealous made this the perfect opportunity to exact revenge.

eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore, grabbing chuuya by the arm and dragging him away from the woman. the woman was stunned but chuuya didn’t spare a second glance at her, now focused on you and only your riled up self. he could only imagine what you had in store for him.

taking him to the nearest bathroom, you didn’t even bother locking the door or heading to a stall. you had him sit on the sink table and undo his pants. he hurriedly pulled down his pants and boxers and you brought his entire cock in your mouth.

he whimpered and squirmed, pleading and whispering for more. your mouth was so warm and tight, he couldn’t wait to be buried in your equally warm and tight pussy, maybe even more warm and tight. but for now, he’ll enjoy this blowjob from you—his lover, his only lover.

“ahh! y/n.. fuck!” he groaned loudly, not being able to contain his moans with how good you were taking him in your mouth. licking a stripe along his length, you quickly filled your mouth with his entire cock, earning a loud whimper from the redhead.

“just like that, don’t stop love,” he groaned, trying to stabilize himself as his hands tussled through your hair. tears brimmed your eyes and threatened to spill when you continued deepthroating him.

“shh, it’s okay baby, you’re doin great,” he cooed, wiping the dripping tears onto your cheeks. “i’m almost there—fuck!” he whined, thrusting into your mouth. he continued fucking your mouth as he felt the familiar knot in his stomach release.

spurts of cum shot down your throat. you swallowed every last bit, earning a “good girl” from chuuya, who wiped some cum from the side of your mouth.

“let’s get home, babe, i wanna show you that you belong to me too.”

#꒰♡︎ luma’s works ☆꒱ #꒰♡︎ bungo stray dogs ☆꒱ #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs smut #bsd smut #bsd x y/n #ranpo smut #dazai smut #chuuya smut #chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu #osamu dazai #ranpo edogawa #bsd edogawa rampo #edogawa ranpo #edogawa ranpo smut #ranpo x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader

[konigsblog]

mooooore of kidnapper konig lying abt his age!! he’s just obsessed and loves her so much 💔

at your order, anon !! plenty of sickening and disturbing thots™️ plaguing my mind with this concept. :( 🩸

CW: DARK CONTENT. KIDNAPPING, NON-CON/RAPE, AGE DIFFERENCE/GAP, MANIPULATION, VIRGINITY LOSS. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. MDNI 18+

a continuation of fifty-year-old könig who lies about his age to get with a younger woman. 🖥️

it was too easy for the depraved man. you're naive, and your vulnerability is almost laughable. it's as if you haven't learned a thing about internet safety when you decide to meet up with an older man, believing he's in his mid-twenties. 

he's a depraved bastard, a complete loser who hasn't had pussy in nearly a decade due to his disturbing, uncomfortable, manipulative behaviour. the yearn to ruin your body and life intensifying each day.

könig senda you a location—the place he plans to take what is rightfully his. it's a discreet and quiet area, far from civilization. you send könig multiple text messages asking if he gave you the right address, anxious as you take a good look at your surroundings, all alone, or so you think.

too distracted while waiting for a response from the man you'd been talking to and falling for, you didn't pay attention to the sounds of the leaves crunching beneath hard military-issued boots, thumping footsteps becoming louder and louder. your eyes widen, realising it is far too late to react and run. you wail out through horror, attempting to free yourself—a fruitless attempt at prying könig's filthy hands from your body—before you're knocked unconscious by his gloved face.

your vision is hazy and blurry, and you can't see anything as you're awoken. you babble through confusion, realising your sounds are hushed by a ballgag and you're unable to move, the gag stifling your sounds of agony, discomfort, and betrayal. your limbs are tied with thick rope, keeping you from squirming away from his sick and twisted attempt at ‘love’. 

you tremble and thrash, hyperventilating and sobbing out, the feeling of könig rutting against your swollen, slick folds leaving you petrified and unable to comprehend what's happening. you'd told him during your conversations that you were a virgin and that you wanted to lose it to him. the news left könig bubbling with excitement and anticipation, the thought of being your first leaving his fat, meaty cock hard. you were beginning egretting your promise to allow him to take you, his frustration visible at the sounds of your pain, ache, and refusal to be quiet.

könig leans himself down onto you, his heavy bodyweight against your weak body leaving you unable to move and unable to catch your breath. you shake and whine out, wailing pathetically with each drag and thrust, the agonising sensation between your soft, bloodied thighs. he's merciless and violent—nothing like the soft, kind-hearted man he portrayed himself to be.

the entire time he degrades and shames you for being so stupid and ridiculous and for getting yourself into this mess. his large hand around your neck restricts your breathing as you splutter and mumble out a plea for gentleness, at the very least. you notice the wrinkles on his face and the scars along his large, burly, overweight body, looking nothing like the photos he put on his dating app profile. there's nothing you can do to free yourself from this form of hell and torture.

what are you supposed to do afterwards? the rope burns on your skin cause your skin to become sensitive; the slightest touch to the bruises and marks along your body is painful, nipping at your marked skin. your tears stain your gorgeous, pure face, squirming away from his touch when he tries to cup your jaw, the softness of your skin representing your youth, before being bruised with a hit from könig, furious at your resentment. 

you're a quiet, shaken-up, traumatised thing for könig to abuse and use for his own selfish gratification and delectation. the need and crave for power and control and to corrupt and warp a mind like yours, so pliant.

#orla speaks #könig call of duty #könig cod #konig mw2 #konig modern warfare #konig call of duty #konig cod #konig x you #konig x reader #könig x reader #könig x you #könig #könig mw2 #dead dove do not eat #tw: dark content #tw: non con #tw: dubcon #tw: rape #tw kidnapping #tw: virginity loss #tw: manipulation #tw: age gap #tw: age difference #cod x reader smut #cod x reader

[doberbutts]

Thank you for making the schindler post, it perfectly illustrates why I hate the way people will act like people who hurt others (like active nazis and racists) aren't capable of regular emotion and thought. Second chances are often seen as bad when it comes to violence and crime, but if you never give someone the chance to change, form different opinions, or see the damage they or their associates have caused, they'll just keep taking the path of least resistance, keep following orders. I just want people to take a serious look at a nazi who changed his mind. There is nothing inherently evil about anyone, there are only moral and immoral choices.

It helps, I think, to understand that he did not join the nazi party because he hated Jews. Even what research I did on the real man said that for the most part his reasons for siding with Hitler were purely economical. And, as I've said before, Hitler did not start with "I hate Jews let's kill them all" but with "look how bad the economy sucks! And who is doing well while the economy sucks? The Jews. That means they're the ones behind making the economy suck!" to get people on his side.

I think Schindler did have some internalized antisemitism. How could he not? He thought of the plan to use almost exclusively Jewish slave labor as good business sense. Cheaper than Poles, more desperate for the work and thus less likely to complain about conditions or quit, can't fuss about wanting wages or better hours, what's not to like? Supposedly his workers were treated well. I don't know if that makes it particularly better. I wonder how his workers felt, staring at the emblem proudly pinned to his jacket, knowing it stood for the extermination of their entire people.

I wonder if any of them ever considered it might be a trick. An elaborate long game to get them to trust and slip up. To get them to reveal the hiding places and secret messages and the others striving to find or make a way out.

I think the movie played with that concept a little bit, when the character of Stern (who apparently was 3 different real guys rolled into 1) is portrayed as always being a little standoffish and cold to Schindler until close to the very end. He was afraid of him. Schindler held not only his life but the lives of all of the people working there (plus more, irl) in his hands. He rubbed shoulders with high ranked officials and knew personally more than one known sadistic bastard that actively got off on murdering Jews. All it would take is a single word and it would be more than just those in the factory who died.

But then the ghetto was cleansed. In history, Schindler had advance warning and made his workers lock themselves in the factory overnight to spare them. In the movie, Schindler did not have warning, and saw the chaos from atop a vantage point as he'd meant to pass by.

Either way, both in life and in film, that was the line. He was, at minimum, willfully blind and passive to the evidence of what was happening up to that point. Once he couldn't deny it, he put his foot down and said, no more. I'm not doing this. I can't save everybody but you aren't getting your hands on anyone in my charge. Put me in jail if you have to. This is wrong.

He had everything to gain by continuing to look away. In the movie, Stern says something to the tune of "you'll have to hire Hungarians and Poles. They cost a little more but you'll still be rich" when they're both faced with Hitler's final solution. No more cheap Jewish labor when they're all dead, after all. It is at that point that they come up with the list- to get as many Jews as possible out of Germany before they're all sent to their deaths. He could have just said "yeah, sorry. I tried". Stern even more or less gave him permission to do so, like he was expecting it.

But he didn't. He said no fuck that, it's bullshit. It's not happening. I'm not letting it happen. They can arrest me or kill me if they want but if I'm alive for it I'm not just going to stand back and watch.

But I think it is difficult for people to grapple with that level of complexity. Not everyone he saved thinks he was overall a good person. His motives were not always pure. In fact many times his motives were just about lining his own pockets. But when he saw atrocities happen, he put his foot down and refused to participate. Even at his own cost- he had the equivalent amount of money back then as would be needed to retire early nowadays from his factory labor. He spent it on bribes and rations to keep them safe. He went to jail several times for refusing to back down. He risked his own neck by networking with other factory owners to get them to do the same. He could have been executed for this at any point. Nazis loved public spectacle executions for traitors and for collusion with Jews.

He wasn't a perfect ally. But I think I'd rather an imperfect ally do whatever they can to help, than no allies at all.

[sigmalaussene]

Top ten weird ways Oswald Cobbepot gets called in Gotham

As I was rewatching Gotham, I decided to write down every name that people in the show canonically call Oswald Cobblepot aka the Penguin. It was a wild ride. Please enjoy

10. "Funny looking fellow"

(season one)

We start with a simple one. This isn't even an insult, it's just a fact. He is, indeed, a funny looking fellow. I'm pretty sure they say it more than once too.

9. "The Dapper Gangland Kingpin"

(season two)

This one it's just silly, especially since it was written on a newspaper. Just... that's weird ? Idk it's silly it makes me chuckle

8. "Yellow rat snitch"

(season one)

We start getting a little weirder. Why a rat? And, more importantly, why yellow???

7. "Stupid lame birdbrain"

(season four)

Just so mean. Especially since this scene it's his dumb husband making a room full of people chant it

6. "Golden goose"

(season one)

Right back to season one and it's incredible dialogue. This one is particularly amazing thanks to Oswald's reply to it, which was, of course: "Honk honk". I can't even start to describe that scene. It's a classic.

5. "Beaky nosed freak"

(season five)

Definitely the best nickname the last season had to offer. Like, you know that moment when a guy kills your bestfriend/girlfriend and you call him the silliest name you can think of? This is one of those times.

4. "Scaley faced bitch"

(season one)

This is the first one in the show, directly from the first episode. I am a firm supporter of calling men bitches when they deserve it, and he did, so I wholeheartedly approve this message. Adding the scaley face part just makes it more poetic.

3. "Sad little breadhead"

(season two)

This one from never fails. Imagine it delivered with the most condicending tone in the world. Just amazing. Makes me laugh every time.

2. "Fruitcake leprechaun"

(season two)

This. This is the one that started it all. It was thinking about this one that I decided that this rewatch I was gonna write down all the nicknames. I dont know if it has something to do with english not being my first language, so I don't have the background of the word "fruitcake" used as an homophobic remark, but this name is one of the funniest things I have ever heard in my life.

1. "Limping little chickenbutt second banana"

(season one)

This couldn't not be on the first place. I am obsessed with the writers of this show, i want to get inside their brains. Because like what does it mean? How did they come up with this? I need to know every thought that crossed their mind for them to write this. This is art. This is poetry. Incredible. Amazing. Absolutely insane. Kudos to the actor who played Maroni because if they gave me that line I wouldn't be able to say it with a straight face.

Bonus:

(For the fans, he is also called "the only thing Nygma cares about". Just... you know, in case you forgot)

Some recurrent nicknames are: "Pengy", "Ozzie", "freak", "cockroach", "punk", bird related names (bird/birdman, feathered friend, chicken, turkey...) and "little"/"tiny" followed by almost anything (man, friend, dirtbag, bastard, creep, twerp, freak, weasel...)

Edit: i realize i didn't mention "Major Crumblepot" and that's on me sorry guys

His haircut is described as "disco vampire hair" at one point (another classic)

He is also called "specimen", which is really funny, and "dewdropper"?? for some reason I don't remember but it was in my notes and I couldn't ignore it lmao

#ofc “penguin” is implied #i finished my latest rewatch!!! ajsnakak i love this little silly guy so much AND i made my brother love him too YAY #gotham oswald #oswald copplepot #ed nygma #nygmobblepot #gotham #riddlebird #gotham fox #show #tv show #top ten #top ten weird ways oswald cobblepot gets called #gotham fandom #scaley faced bitch <3 #fandom meme #gotham meme

[brummiereader]

No Son Of Mine (One Shot)

Summary: Justice had finally been served in the wake of John's death. But with all acts of violence comes consequences, one Tommy must face when his trusted friend Johnny dogs stumbles upon the now orphaned baby of the traitor and his wife he and Arthur had both murdered in cold blood all in the name or revenge. With no child of their own and Graces refusal to send him to the orphanage, Tommy begrudgingly takes the child into his care. Will Tommy ever show young Oliver the love of a father he deserves? Or will he continue to see him as nothing but a burden the heavens had cruelly punished him with?

Warnings: Language, mentions of murder, mentions of blood, angst, fluff

Authors note: A lovely reader of mine popped into my messages and kindly asked me if I could write this story for them. I'm sorry for the long delay hun, I can only blame my procrastinating brain for my tardiness. Anyway, I hope i did your prompt justice. Enjoy!

"Right, we done?" Tommy said raising a brow as he wiped the blood that had splattered onto to his crisp white evening shirt looking to his brother Arthur nodding his head in response, his chest heaving up and down as he brushed his bloody hands through his hair, both having been sidetracked from the nights festivities.

" Fucking scum" Arthur sniffed wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he gave one last kick to the lifeless body at his feet. A cascade of events since John's death had led up to this very day, and Tommy and Arthur both simultaneously agreed without the need of words that justice had finally been served. Luca Changretta had been dead for almost a fortnight, the vendetta was over for all but the two surviving older brothers. That was until tonight when both Arthur and Tommy were unexpectedly called away to the news that Johnny dogs had found exactly who they'd been looking for. The traitor, the informer, the bastard that had given John's address to the Italians. A Peaky Blinder, one of their very own men.

" What about her?" Arthur spat a splutter of saliva laced with blood to the ground, the result of one lucky punch from the chancer that had tried his luck with the towering gangster. He'd put up a decent fight, one Arthur enjoyed watching before his patience grew thin and he pummeled his fist into him, each snap and break of his bloody face crumbling into something unrecognizable before being shot point-blank in the head. No one wanting or willing to hold him back. Not even Tommy. No forgiveness was given that dark night, only the sweet mercy met at the end of the barrel of a gun.

" Collateral" Tommy replied as he rubbed a cigarette across his lips not giving the nights events one ounce of remorse. This was for John after all.

" Collateral?" Arthur sniffed feeling a pang of guilt hit his stomach. Women and children were not to be harmed, an unspoken agreement before time in all dealings in war between men.

" Yes Arthur, fucking collateral alright?" Tommy snapped as he marched over to his brother whose eyes hadn't left those of the lifeless woman laid on the muddied ground below him " She ran into the line of fire brother. She all but killed herself" Tommy finished growing impatient with Arthur's weighing guilt. The last thing he needed was his number one soldier to be hit with a moral compass.

" Lads, we've got ourselves a wee problem" Johnny rushed over breathless as he loosened the neckerchief from the vein pumping angrily on the side of his neck. Fuck sake, Tommy thought to himself as he threw his cigarette to the ground. Things could never go smoothly, as smoothly as murder could go that was.

" What kinda problem?" Tommy replied as he and Arthur followed him into the small bedsit from the courtyard that two dead bodies had yet to be disposed of. The commotion resulting in the curiosity and twitching of the neighbours curtains, not one of them daring to or even contemplating in the slightest to inform any person of authority. Who would they go to? The police? The mere thought was laughable.

"Just a small one" Johnny replied taking two steps at a time up the rickety wooden stairs elaborating no further on what exactly had thrown a spanner into the works.

"A small problem Johnny eh? That's a big fucking problem!" Tommy ranted shaking his head as the three men entered the flat met with the sound of a newborn baby wailing in his woven bassinet, his bottom lip wobbling with each cry that furiously left his little lungs.

"Well he's small ain't he?" Johnny replied as he tilted his head looking down at the baby boy bundled in a white knitted blanket. You'd think with the the small army of children Johnny had fathered he'd be in his element. But that couldn't be further from the truth. Johnny was a natural with children, but a natural with children that had been weened, potty trained, and able enough to drive a four wheeled vehicle and shoe a horse. In basic terms, teenagers. But nonetheless wee babbies in his eyes. Newborns were all but a loud messy mystery to him.

" Jesus fucking Christ..." Tommy huffed pinching his brow as his mind frantically tried to come up with a solution as to what in the hell he was going to do now.

" Bloody hell, bloody fucking hell!" Arthur bellowed as he kicked the chair beside him, the gravity of what they had just gone hitting him far more than any sin from the long list he had committed in the past. They had made a child an orphan, and Arthur's regret and new-found faith in the almighty was about to turn into a furious rage of self-inflicted guilt.

" Hey, hey!" Tommy said cupping Arthur's head in his hands in a vice grip, trying to snap him from the pit he was intent on falling in. " Johnny take the child and go start the car" Tommy said loosening his hands as Arthur's head cast down with shame at his sudden outburst. No reading of scriptures would ever be able to tame the raging fury from igniting within him at any given moment, no matter how hard he tried. " And Johnny, light a fire. Just as we did for John" Tommy finished reminding Arthur who this was for, who they were avenging.

" He won't quit!" Arthur panicked as he held the baby in the back seat of the car, fumbling with the hand stitched blanket as Tommy drove full speed down the country lane back to Arrow house were the night of meeting with dignitaries was surely over.

" He ain't a bloody chicken is he?" Johnny said as he reached over from the passengers seat taking the bundled up child into his arms. " Like this, look" Johnny added resting the baby's head on his shoulder as he silently prayed to every ancestor to take pity on him, promising them that the next child to be birthed with his last name he'd be the epitome of a modern father to.

" Shut him up Johnny!" Tommy shouted, his jaw clenched at the increased wailing in his ear, his nerves on edge by the constant reminder of the nights events he now had to deal with as he slammed his foot down on the pedal with Arrow house in sight.

"Grace!" Tommy's voice bellowed through the walls of the their house. Every guest had already left, the grand entrance cleared of tables of the most prestigious of all champagnes imported from France mere hours ago. A night of free food, free booze and music in return for them delving into their pockets. But with the host having been otherwise occupied for most of the evening it was a night wasted, one he would begrudgingly have to endure for a second time.

" Tommy..." Grace said as she hurried down the stairs pulling her ivory night gown around her as she watched Tommy pace back and forth with a cigarette hanging from his lips in the grand hallway.

" Here. You wanted a baby, now you have one" Tommy said as he took the child from Johnny's arms placing him into hers before storming off to his office and slamming the door shut, leaving his wife wide-eyed in confusion as Johnny and Arthur stood there sheepishly without a word.

" Frances, some warm cows milk and another blanket please. That will have to do until the morning" she said softly not wanting to startle the child anymore as she gently hushed his sobs away into small whimpers and sniffles. " One of you going to tell me what happened?"

It had been an hour, three whiskys, a packet of cigarettes and the rubbing of one's brow back and forth as a pounding headache settled onto his forehead since Tommy had shut himself away in his office, shutting himself away from the consequences of the night.

" Tommy?" Graces voice quietly announced as she entered the room with the newborn bundled in her arms soundly asleep as a flash of love at seeing his wife in her element softened her husband's face. Her motherly instincts that had been waiting to be freed finally being put to use after the longing for her own child.

" I've rung the orphanage" Tommy bluntly replied, the sweet moment that had captured him bitterly snatched away by no one else but himself as he stubbed out his cigarette. " They're coming first thing tomorrow to..."

" The orphanage. Tommy..." Grace interrupted him, her angered voice raising just above a whisper in response before being cut off herself.

" I won't hear anymore on it Grace. He can't stay here, that's the end of it" Tommy stood up throwing his lighter on a stack of paperwork as he rested his hands on the mahogany desk in front of him, looming over the list of numbers he had been calling as he huffed out a cloud of smoke.

" The end of it is it Thomas?" Grace scoffed as she walked forward, her eyes narrowing in on her husband with every step she took. " You made this child an orphan, he is your responsibility now. That's the end of it" she said coming to a stop in front of his desk as her husbands jaw tightened at her words.

" What about John's kids eh? They've been made orphans, hm? Grace? " He said as his wife turned her back on him as she headed for the door, Tommy's raised voice enough to startle a small whimper of cries from the baby boy now waking up from a deep slumber.

" When will it end Tommy?" Grace said as she came to a stop at the door. Tommy's relentless need for revenge against anyone who had dared to cross him leaving a string of orphans, elderly burying their own children and children burying their own parents. " A son Tommy, isn't that what you've wanted? What we've wanted?" she sighed, a deep wave of sorrow filling her heart as she looked down at the sweet child in her arms, a child she had yearned for during the unforgiving nights she had held onto her husband as tears streamed her face. Loss after loss breaking her already shattered heart.

" He'll be no son of mine"

Six years later...

" Elbows off Oliver" Grace reprimanded with a small smile of affection at the breakfast table to the child who had grown into a dimpled cheeked young boy as she rubbed her swollen stomach.

" Yes mummy" he replied kicking his legs back and forth as he wiped his cheeks from the egg soldiers he had just enjoyed as Tommy eyed him over the newspaper in his hand, reaching to caress his wife's stomach.

" He'll be here soon" Grace smiled to her husband lacing her fingers between his as she glanced over at her son that had no knowledge of who his birth parents were or the night that had brought him into their life, never wanting to or willing to send him into turmoil with the truth at such a young age "A baby brother for you Oliver " she winked to him as he grinned from ear to ear at the idea of having a sibling all whilst trying to stack the remaining pieces of toast into a strong hold that would keep the soldiers from the fiery dragon his imagination had conjured up. His attempts rendered futile when his tower of toast came crashing down onto the recently polished floors.

" Grace..." Tommy huffed folding his newspaper in half throwing it on the table in front of him, his patience easily tested with anything the small boy did that caused the slightest of inconvenience.

" Don't play with your food darling" she corrected him as Oliver's eyes darted to his father and the irritation clearly expressed in the creases of his furrowed brow. "Go clean up those buttery cheeks before I leave ok?" She smiled as the boy nodded in response while sliding off his seat only to stand on the scattered toast below him, causing a mountain of crumbs and further mess.

" You heard your mother" Tommy huffed lighting a cigarette as he looked down at the waste of food and the disorder that came with the child that had created it. " Oliver" Tommy pinched his brow as the little boy stood there doe eyed looking up at him nervously through his lashes.

" Go on" Grace smiled reassuring him as he ran to the door. " You're to harsh with him, he's scared of you" Grace said snapping her head to Tommy as he left the room.

" He doesn't listen" Tommy stated as he stood up taking a drag of his cigarette as he watched the boy through the crack of the door running up the stairs. " Stands there looking gormless whenever I tell him to do something, just like his traitor father"

" Tommy!" Grace said as she put the breakfast dishware down, crashing them onto the table in one loud clatter of knives, forks and spoons as she hurried to shut the door. " Don't ever let him hear you talk like that!"

" Well maybe he should know, eh Grace ?" Tommy said coldly stubbing his cigarette out, the pain from his brothers death never fully grieved, only ever making itself clear through the unfair coldness he showed to the child his wife had lovingly taken in all those years ago, raising him solely on her own over the watchful eye of him always standing from afar.

" You'd like that wouldn't you Tommy? Wouldn't have to keep up your facade anymore" Grace replied as she walked around the table. " Your his father, he knows no different. Just like this one" she said resting her hand on her stomach. " You're breaking his heart Tommy" she said taking his hand trying to reason with his stubbornness and the relentless friction he had undoubtedly created in the house the three of them shared. "I'm going to miss my train" she sighed as she closed her hand around his placing a tender kiss to his lips before turning to leave as Tommy followed behind her, watching from the door as she knelt down to Oliver in the entryway.

" Can't i come?" the young boy sobbed as she brushed his tears from his rosy cheeks. " Please?" he sniffed turning to see Tommy leaning against the door frame watching from afar, always from afar.

" I'm sorry darling, not this time" she replied a look of concern in her eyes about leaving him alone with Tommy, silently wishing this one time he would push his unenthusiastic demeanor aside and at least try if not for her then the little boy who thought the world of him. The same little boy with a determination that matched the very man who would brush off any attempts he made to impress him. Tommy's hate for the man that had fathered him clouding every parental instinct in his body. " I'll bring you something back" she winked giving him a hug before she fixed her hat and hesitantly turned to the door, leaving the young boy standing in the hallway sobbing as Tommy cruelly turned his back on his tears and shut the dinning room door behind him.

" Dad, Johnny, watch me!" Oliver shouted as he precariously placed one foot in front of the other climbing the large oak tree shading the evening sun on the grounds of Arrow house as Tommy and Johnny dogs watched on from the patio door. The young boy hell-bent on getting to the very top after seeing his uncle Arthur climb the very same tree two weeks earlier as he watched on in awe.

"That 'a boy!" Johnny shouted back pulling his cigarette from his mouth as he waved back. " Found 'em Tom" he turned to Tommy in a hushed voice as he leaned in. "They live up north in Yorkshire, factory workers in the local pressing center. Dirt poor, drunk ol' man that beats his wife within an inch of her life and too many mouths to feed" Johnny added as he watched Tommy's eyes following Oliver's every move.

" He's gonna fucking fall" Tommy huffed under his breath as he stood up straight, already on guard for the inevitable. He never fucking listens, why would he never listen to him?

" Tom, you listening ?" Johnny said as he pulled the address of Oliver's uncle from his pocket. " Grace will never forgive you Tom, he's her whole world" Johnny added as Tommy took the piece of crumpled paper from him, the decision to send Oliver to his family having been made after the unexpected news of Grace's pregnancy, a decision made solely by him without her knowledge. It's better she didn't know, better for him that was. And when the day did come, he'd tell her his family claimed him back. What grounds would she have to fight them? She'd be distracted with the birth of their son, she'd forget...wouldn't she?

"Dad look!" Oliver shouted trying to get his attention, determined to show him how far he could climb, how he was as fearless as any other Shelby before he misplaced his foot and came tumbling down to the ground.

"Oliver!" Tommy shouted throwing his cigarette into the grass as he and Johnny ran over in a panic. " What did I tell you eh?! What did I fucking tell you?!" Tommy shouted, all words of expected comfort and love absent from his voice as anger and frustration took over.

"I'm sorry..." he sobbed looking up to his dad as Tommy removed his cap from his head, running his hands through his hair as he looked down at the bloody cut on his hand, every ounce of his being telling him to cradle the boy in his arms that knew nothing but him as his father.

" Ay, up you get" Johnny said helping him as he gave him a pat to his back. " Just a scratch Oliver ay? No broken bones. Nout to worry on. Ain't that right Tommy?" Johnny said in attempts to reassure the sobbing boy and Tommy who was about ready to snap again, his jaw tightened at the sight of Oliver's cheeks streamed with tears, muddy and red from the blow of the fall.

"Get inside" Tommy said placing his cap back on as he started marching back to the house, ignoring the pit of fear in his stomach at how things could have taken a turn for the worse under his watch of the boy Grace had entrusted him with. " Boys don't cry Oliver. Soldier up and wipe those tears" Tommy harshly stated as he left him and Johnny by themselves as he made his way to his office, shutting himself once again away from any more responsibility, anymore damage his presence caused.

" Come on lad" Johnny said putting his arm around him as Oliver sniffed back his tears feeling foolish that he had not only fallen but cried In front of his father, the man that never cried.

Sitting back in his leather chair Tommy rubbed the weight of the guilt that had settled on his forehead with the tips of his fingers as the night drew in, the soft hue from the crackling fire the only source of light in the blackened room he had locked himself in for the remainder of the evening. The impending birth of his child had unexpectedly thrown Tommy's thoughts into an uncomfortable disarray. Out of sight out of mind had been Tommy's only solution to the feelings that had started to arise in him that fatherhood had threatened, that fatherhood had been threatening him with for six years. Oliver was more like him than Tommy dared to admit. The child's strong will and refusal to listen one of his own cruel making. Why couldn't he love him like he already loved his unborn child? How long could he keep this up? Would he be that man, unashamedly favoring one child in front of the other? With too many questions dominating his thoughts and his wife's gentle voice absent to soothe the demons he had created for himself, Tommy did what he only knew how to do. Drink himself to the bottom of a whisky bottle. Heading up to the second floor of Arrow house with the finest bottle of Irish whisky in his hand he stopped at the top of the stairs, small whimpers and cries coming from the room at the end of the hallway capturing his attention. Oliver's room.

" Frances!" Tommy called out as he waited for the the housekeeper to deal with what he knew he couldn't. "Fuck sake" he huffed under his breath after waiting in place for someone to come before he found himself walking down the hallway to Oliver's room. There, with his knees curled up to his chest Tommy watched though the crack of the door as Oliver rubbed his hand back and forth over the bandage wrapped tightly around his injured wrist, his small frame illuminated by the cast of the gentle moonlight shining through his bedroom window. Running his hand down his face Tommy opened the door as Oliver quickly turned around pulling the blankets up to his chin.

"Oliver?" Tommy questioned placing the bottle of whisky on the side cabinet as he walked over. " Why aren't you asleep?" Tommy said more bluntly than he intended to as he stood by the bed, feeling a wave of unease wash over him as he noted the small blanket Oliver was clutching onto. The very same blanket he was wrapped in the night they had found him. Grace had kept it, something he would have known if he had ever sat and read him a bedtime story, if he had ever woke in the night to hush the nightmares away from his worried mind, if he had ever even entered his room in all of the six years he had lived under his roof." Let me see" Tommy said in a gentler tone as he sat beside him on the bed. " Oliver let me see" he said when no response came from the whimpers the small child was trying to stifle. Boys don't cry. " Please?" Tommy sighed resting his hand on the child's back as his head fell into his other, the guilt of six year of taking the life of his parents settling on his shoulders pushing him further into his elbow digging into his leg as his head grew heavy with regret. Sniffling, Oliver turned around with his hand out as Tommy cradled it gently in his own, the difference in size causing Tommy's throat to go dry. The hate for his father's betrayal that of a grown mans doing, not this young boys that Tommy had cruelly burdened him with for six years " First of many battle wounds eh?" Tommy smiled to the young boy as Oliver's face stayed unchanged, unresponsive to Tommy trying to ease his worry. Had he done this? Made the child is his care so frightened of him he couldn't even a coax a smile from him?

" Soldiers don't cry" Oliver said pulling his hand away, his bottom lip turning down at the thought he wasn't as strong as his father, a soldier like him.

" They do Oliver" Tommy said as his brows knitted together at the thought that young Oliver had taken his words to heart. What else had Tommy said in the past six years, what else had he unknowingly taught him?

" You said boys..."

" And I shouldn't have " Tommy answered before he could finish as the boy wiped his tears from his youthful cheeks whilst a small silence filled the room, the strain from their relationship left empty with nothing further to say as Tommy desperately tried to search for the comforting words he knew Oliver needed to hear. " You want your mum don't you?" Tommy said swallowing harshly as he turned his head to the rays of moonlight cast on the wooden floor " I'm sorry Oliver, I'm..." Tommy huffed pinching his brow as he clasped his hand around the child's shoulder. "... I'm not very good at this. You gotta help me out here. Will you help me?" he said as he gently squeezed his shoulder, rubbing his thumb back and forth as the barriers Tommy had kept up started to fall around him as he desperately scrambled to gain back the wasted years he had been adored, loved unconditionally, a love he had never once reciprocated . " Get some rest" Tommy sighed patting Oliver's shoulder, his plea for help left unanswered as he stood up when a small hand grabbed hold of him.

" Tell me a story, please?" Oliver asked as he sat up in his bed looking up to the man he had always looked up to, always waiting for an ounce of affection.

" That what your mum does eh?" Tommy replied as he sat back down, adjusting the covers lovingly around the boy, if not a little overly enthusiastically as Oliver was now in a tight cocoon of covers and blankets with his arms securely fastened by his sides. " A story..." Tommy mused aloud, his eyes looking up at the ceiling as his brain mulled over all the potential tales that could see him sleeping in the guest room for an undefined amount of time if Grace ever found out, when the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile you would think had never seen the light of day let alone witnessed by anyone but himself. Arthur had made him swear in blood to never mention the day his gangly legs had gotten in his way causing him to fall from would could have been the very same tree Oliver had fell from earlier that day in attempts impress a girl three decades ago. " Arthur made me swear never to tell anyone, but you won't tell him I told you, right? Tommy said as the boy nodded his head, understanding the severity of pinky swears and the fate of death if you ever spilled.

" Cross my heart" he nodded with all the seriousness he could muster as his little face twisted into a stern expression, a worthy match to Tommy's own infamous pout. He was a Shelby after all, Tommy thought to himself as his heart suddenly filled with pride.

" That's my boy" Tommy said as he turned to sit beside him, wrapping his arm around his shoulder as Oliver nestled into his side " My son eh? Tommy nudged him into his body as the boys eyes beamed up at his father's loving gaze. "My son..."

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x son #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby one shot #cillian murphy

[charliesgoodboy]

♠︎tom kaulitz(2007-2008) x male reader(nsfw)

♠︎genre: smut/song based

♠︎song line: "if she can't handle that then i'll let her suck my dick, and her man is coming back so you better make it quick."

♠︎warning(s): domtop tom kaulitz, gagging, slight cum swallowing, tom is a little rough(but thats only because wait nvm im spoiling), blow jobs, cheating, tom does not like gf, and the gf probably does not like tom, OH tom is amazing at aftercare(i might just..)

♠︎a/n: YEA U KNOW WHO U R U PIECE OF SHIT YOUR GFS ALWAYS SUCKIN ON MY DICK LIKE A SLIM JIM STICK

this wasn't right and you knew it, you had a girlfriend who was in your own band! you loved her dearly yet sometimes others could be tempting. sometimes, others could fill in the hole that had never been filled.

which was tom kaulitz himself, it was all supposed to be a one night thing like toms usual hits, but to call you 'different' is an understanding. "no one has to know..not even that woman of yours." he was so persuasive, made you believe it would really just be once.

the both of you thought wrong, "just once." bullshit. yet here, for at least the fifteenth time you were put on your knees in front of him, his fingers curled into your hair keeping you almost to the base of his pelvis, making it difficult for you to breathe.

you had told him that you were still sore from about a week ago, apparently he was fucking his anger out on you but fuck the aftercare was almost everything you could ask for.

"through your nose," he moaned out, you were trying but god you barely could. at times you'd try to move your head back so you could breathe a little more, and taste him a little better.

his hips thrusted foward a little, the back of your throat feeling all the more cramped as you tapped his thigh, signalling he needed to let you go for a moment. "aw..but i'm almost there." he teased smirking down at you, the bastard. "fine,"

he gave in letting you go, more so pulling your head back on his own his fingers still tangled with your hair. "go on, take your breathes." he wasn't done with you, when he said he was almost there he meant it.

unfortunately, your girlfriend texted you. the front of your phone had her message sent, saying she'd be on her way back soon. well shit, this just made tom all the more excited.

"look," he laughed, moving his hand from your hair to your chin to make you look at him open the message, showing it to you. "your little girlfriends coming back." you tried to grab for your phone back exclaiming,

"tom! we have to stop this is–" he tossed your phone somewhere else, making you cringe hearing a small crack. "ah ah, i'm not finished yet remember?" he usually liked finishing what he started.

"back down," he watched as you went back down on your knees, a satisfied look on his face. "think," he forcefully put you back down on his length, enjoying the muffled yelp you let out your hands moving to his thighs again, squeezing them.

"she couldn't satisfy you like this huh?" he was right, and you knew it. to him, your girlfriend was just some chic you fake liked eating out, he knew you liked this better.

it was written all over your face even the first time. tom was the one controlling your pace, but still making sure you watched your teeth. spit had wallowed up at the back of your throat, having it spill at the side of your lips coating his dick as well. "yeah..i know."

he bit his lip, slipping his lip ring in and out as he was getting back to the moment before, cumming down your throat. but be had wanted to see something, it would be fine. he pulled you back off again, his head leaning back as he let out a loud groan finishing his load all over your face.

he looked back, loving the way he saw you swallow the bit in your mouth as the rest had been splattered across your features. the way some stuck to your eyelash making you half close that eye.

how the thick white liquid coated your cheeks as well, it almost felt as good as the other times. "fuck.." he mumbled still staring at you till your phone rang. again, you tried to get up and get it but tough luck for you.

"she can wait."

that poor girl yo💀 im sooo mf tired but ion wanna sleep😪 if there are any typos nu uh no there are not @gaybitchfx @tokio-motel @secretivemessenger @reallyromealone @lostsomewhereinthegarden @esthxio @vyloy @bloodyfennec @kitsune-yuhhh

#male reader #x male reader #male y/n #male reader insert #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x you #tom kaulitz x male reader #tom kaulitz x y/n #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel smut #tokio hotel x you #tokio hotel x male reader

[alicerosejensen]

Would you by any chance do another Leon head canon with his college girlfriend? The other ones you made were super cute. Enjoy the rest of your day!

I'm happy to share headcanons so here's another serving.

Jealous leon like a little warning.

- You don't have a problem with alcohol, but when your friends invited you to a noisy party, you couldn't (and didn't want to) refuse them.

- "Don't you think your dress is too short?" Leon will be throwing glances at you while you preen in front of the mirror. It doesn't look like he's worried or jealous.

- Leon probably wanted to spend the evening in peace and your company, but you already had other plans.

- The dress may indeed have been a little shorter than what you usually wear but, "honey, it's a PARTY!"

- With a bunch of horny guys who want to lift that very dress on your hips.

- Leon won't say it out loud.

- Get ready for frequent calls and messages?

"Are you all right?"

"No one comes over?"

"Mind your drinks, please"

"Do I need to come get you?"

- Perhaps his guardianship would tire you and you would prefer not to respond to messages. For God's sake don't turn off your phone!

- You did it anyway... congratulations, you're going done...

- You have very beautiful and expensive clothes, your friends think you have a sugar daddy or something.

- Even if you say it's not. It's just that Leon prefers to give quality things.

- You have a friend who likes you for a long time. You may not know this, but the alcohol he drinks will help him confess his feelings to you.

- You're too drunk already, plus the music is loud. Perhaps you will hear something else or you do not want to understand what he said, so you will agree with him.

- The evil dog Leon is already here and he is ready to kick someone's ass if he sees that you have been harmed.

- But you are having a nice conversation with your friend, whose hand is brazenly on your waist.

- What the hell are you wearing in those revealing sexy stockings that peek out from under your boiler dress"?

- Now Leon is really jealous.

- Intoxicated with alcohol, you agree to dance with your friend some obscene dances, laughing merrily.

- You're really having fun, but not Leon. You never gave him a reason to doubt your loyalty, so when your friend's hands go down to your ass, you push him hard.

- "Take it easy! I already have a boyfriend."

- The moment when someone grabs the poor guy by the collar and pushes him away from you goes too fast. Leon grabs your hand and you run after him almost on wadded legs.

- "Why the hell didn't you return my calls?"

- The brain does not fully understand where Leon came from. But the people around you make way for you that you are gone.

- Leon's hand painfully holds your wrist. He doesn't want to hurt you in any way, he was just too scared.

- Who knows what that bastard had in mind?

- You are drunk and the heels on your feet are too high, which is why you constantly stumble.

- Leon is angry. Very. He's pissed off by those lustful looks at your breasts, so he'll put his leather jacket on you. And zip it up.

- You spend the whole way home in silence.

- You know it's best not to touch Leon right now. He recently returned from a long mission that didn't go too well, and the last thing he wanted to worry about was you at this fucking party.

- You put your hand on his thigh, but he didn't react.

- The fresh air helped sober up a bit.

- "Do you have any idea what dirty intentions that bastard might have had for you?!"

- Your carelessness sometimes frightens him.

- At home, Leon himself will knock over several glasses of whiskey into himself.

- He will probably be offended for two days. Stingy phrases, detachment, Leon just infuriates that you allowed yourself to behave like that! He understands that you're too young to stay at home all the time, but damn god, you almost got groped...and...Leon is afraid to say the word.

- What if you were raped?

- It was hard for Leon to say those words. The very thought that you have been harmed causes him unimaginable pain. He will hate himself if anything happens to you.

- Just be careful. Leon has lost too many good people and all he wants to do is take care of you.

- Leon loves you with all his heart and is ready to fight for you day and night with any B.O.W, but he really doesn't understand why you turned off your fucking phone.

- Perhaps it really has become too much for you...

- But you love him too. Just that evening you allowed yourself too much. "Seriously Leon, I wouldn't cheat on you with my college guy."

- Leon believes you.

- You're going to have a pretty rough night. Leon will remind you that you are HIS woman, leaving hickeys that are hard to hide. He will tease a lot and whisper various obscenities, reminding you of who you belong to. It's actually damn hot!

- Don't even think about getting out of bed after having sex with him. Leon will tire you out so you can't get up, but he will still carry you to the bathroom and bring you a sandwich if you get hungry. (* whispers* he is not only the god of sex, but also the god of care)

- He likes to kiss your thighs.

- You'll probably be less likely to go to these parties, but Leon never forbids you anything.

- Just keep your phone close!

- He will take you on his vacation.

- And your sexy dresses are just for him

#leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil #resident evil vendetta #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy headcanons #resident evil headcanons

[space-invading-pigeon]

When Eddie gets stressed, about anything, he makes grilled cheese and tomato soup. It was what Wayne gave him the first night he stayed with him (Eddie was six, but that doesn't make the memory any less impactful). So Eddie makes grilled cheese when he's stressed, it's his comfort meal.

*****

Eddie just wanted to cry. He'd spent the last two nights working at his friend Gareth's tattoo parlor (he's proud to be a jack-of-all-trades, and after his two-year apprenticeship he was damn good at tattooing), then working on the story for his most recent game project. Sleep was a distant memory, and Steve was working overtime at the hospital, so he couldn't even cuddle his favorite person. He just sat on the couch, staring at his favorite armchair like it held the answers to his struggle. He's struggling just to keep himself from going to dark places, and then-

Steve stumbles out of his room. Steve had messaged that he'd gotten home earlier than expected, but it was using perfect grammar so Eddie knows it had been a rough day. (Steve liked to text like a teenager straight from a high school textbook; "to annoy my little brother" he would claim, but he thought it was funny) And Steve is not dressed in his sleeping pajamas, he's wearing the shortest shorts known to man and an enormously oversized Hawkins PD sweatshirt. Eddie instantly forgets about being upset or grilled cheese or even that he's supposed to filter his thoughts.

"Gay- I mean, hey, Steve, how're you to thighs-night, tonight!" He stammers, and Steve rubs his eye with one of his sweater paws, that bastard.

"Three twelve hour shifts and there was a car accident outside. I'm clinically dead for the next week." Steve had the gall to yawn, scratching at his tummy and shuffling to the kitchen. "'M hungry, what should we make?"

Eddie can't articulate his preferred meal, he has a perfect view of Steve's unfairly perfect ass, currently at his eye level (thank you, La-Z-Boy chair, Eddie knew he was right when he said that it would change his life), and Steve is already dropping ingredients onto the counter. "Nevermind, I want cheese."

"Soup, too?"

"Aww, Ed's, you had a tough day too? We can make brownies. And watch the Chucky movie?"

"Sweetheart, it's called Child's Play." Eddie tried to focus on a rant, but that stupid fucking nurse arched to pop his back and showed off a strip of his tummy. "I'm too gay for this." He mutters frantically.

*****

Steve makes him grilled cheese and heats up some tomato soup from a can, but once he pulls brownies out of the oven, he conks out on the sofa, swaddled in a blanket he crocheted with cute little pokemon. Eddie almost cries, twice, but ultimately he just takes fifty pictures and adds it to the "Too Fucking Cute" folder in his phone. (Spoiler: it's full of Steve. He's even got a picture of Steve cuddling a stuffed Baymax)

#steddie #steve harrington #stranger things headcanons #eddie munson #roommates au #something short and goofy

[mieromaestro]

finally found pt.1

Summary: Y/n and Marshall have a fight. This time it is a serious conflict. He's almost disappointed in the relationship again, but this time it's different. He knows you're special and can't just lose you. Y/n is a celebrity too.

warning: 18+

“I can't believe it. I've trusted you for so many months and I stumbled into betrayal again!”

“You need to hear me. I didn't cheat on you yesterday or ever. It's just that…”

“…I found you making out with him in his car?”

“Marshall! That bastard got me drunk. He wanted me to sleep with him, he wanted to take advantage of me, Marshall!”

“And you're happy about that?”

You slapped him on the cheek.

“How can you say that?!” You cried out in frustration as you looked at his face. “I was insanely scared, I was afraid, but I couldn't do anything!!! I couldn't move because of the crap he gave me.”

Marshall laughed, very bitterly.

“You're really good at manipulating me. You know, I thought you were different, not like all the other whores who betrayed me and hurt me. But it turns out you're not. You're even worse. You got under my skin…”

“I didn't betray you, Marshall.” Your voice trembled, tears dripping to the floor, but you continued to speak insistently. You reached for his head but he roughly intercepted your hand.

“Don't do this to me.” You said, looking into his eyes. There was always so much pain and loneliness in them. It wasn't in the last few months when you were able to build a relationship. He was different. He was so much happier. You were glad that you were the reason why. But now everything was falling apart before your eyes.

“You'd better go.” He said in a cold tone.

You looked up into his eyes in disbelief. Was he really that angry? You couldn't move because of the chilling cold that enveloped you. With trembling hands you began to gather your things. Everything was like a fog. 

Now you just couldn't contain your resentment that HE didn't believe you. Tears came flooding out of your eyes again. Grabbing your suitcase, you walked silently out of the house with one last glance at Marshall.

The incident that had happened to you had been televised and broadcast 24/7. It was the high-profile event of the week. Of course, the pop diva was caught in a car with another guy. All the media wondered if there was a breakup with Eminem and how he survived the "betrayal." Every time you threw a pillow or the first object you could find at the screen at the mention of your name.

Marshall didn't call or write. You went crazy with uncertainty, leaving numerous calls and messages until you realized it was useless to do so.

But you had to endure the embarrassment even worse. Reporters found out about the harassment. To the old footage that didn't really say anything was added a video that a fan who recognized you shot. 

In the video, you could clearly see that you were almost unconscious, and the bastard was kissing you. It was painful for you to look at the recorded video, as if you'd been humiliated and shamed all over again. Tears formed in your eyes, which you wiped away. 

Suddenly you heard the doorbell ring. Not knowing who could come at such a late hour, you went to the door, by which there was still an unpacked suitcase. When you opened the door, you were stunned. The one standing in front of you was Marshall.

“You forgot this at my place.” He was holding a sweatsuit. But not just any sweatsuit, of which you had many, but the one he had given you. It was too big for you because it was his original sweatsuit. You still stood there in silence, not knowing what to say. 

“Thank you.” You reached out and took the sweatsuit, pulling it, but Marshall wouldn't give it back. You looked shyly into his face.

“He won't bother you again.” He said. You looked at him perplexed, and suddenly you saw a blood stain on his eyebrow. You were horrified to imagine what Marshall's words meant. A fight. You didn't even want to ask how he'd found him. With his connections and capabilities, it wasn't hard.

“You shouldn't have, I…” Suddenly you felt his hand sharply lifting your face by the chin.

“Look at me. Did he do anything to you?”

You couldn't fight the rush of feeling that came over you. He was there again, you could feel his touch. But an unpleasant realization stung your heart. He came, but only after the news broke.

“So you believed those weasel reporters, but not me?”

“What?” He frowned.

“You only came here after those videos went viral in the media.”

He suddenly looked in the direction of the TV where the sound was still coming from. There was another story on Y/n.

“I didn't know about that.”

You frowned. “Then why did you come here, Marshall?”

“I'm sorry I didn't believe you right away. Jealousy blinds me.”

“What made you change?”

He came very close, and stared intently into your eyes. That look had been familiar to you for a long time, and you could feel your breath catching. 

“I knew it was crazy to leave you. I knew I would kill myself with it. But I can't take it anymore.” His eyes filled with anger. “It's like I can't control myself. Every time I see assholes stretching their arms toward you, I forget that you belong to me.”

You looked up and put your hand on his neck, gently pulling him closer. Marshall let you pull him to you.

“Nothing could ever happen between me and anyone else.” You smiled. “You know how long I've been trying to win you over. You think I'm just going to back out?”

His hands dropped to your waist and began slowly stroking your skin through the fabric.

“Picked up a lost dog and turned him into an obedient puppy?”

The corners of your lips spread apart and the sincerest smile appeared on your face. He adored your smile because it always reflected your true feelings, your happiness when you were with him. Marshall took your chin in his hands, and you closed your eyes, still smiling.

“I don't know how you do it, but you made me come back to you again.”

At first it seemed like your relationship was only for a moment. Guys like Marshall don't usually pay attention to girls like you, you thought. He was too distant and inaccessible. At times his behavior remained so. But you knew the real him, you saw a side of him that was hidden from others.

You reached forward and kissed him. He moved his hand around your neck and pulled you closer. The other hand that was still resting on your waist moved lower, and you exhaled in a kiss. You were both insatiable, you two haven't had enough of each other. 

You buried your fingers in his hair and felt Marshall lead you toward the inside of the apartment. He began to run his hands over your shoulders, back, waist and hips and you heard his labored breathing.

“I fuckin’ love your body”. He said hoarsely.

You pressed your lips to his neck and left a little hickey there. You knew it was his erogenous zone. Marshall growled, and his movements became more sloppy. He took off your blouse and unhooked your bra, slowly running his palm from your neck to your cleavage and your breasts. 

You tried to keep up with him and pulled off your favorite leather jacket of his, running your palms over his broad shoulders. You didn't notice how you reached the bed and Marshall pushed you onto the soft surface and threw off his shirt. You reached up and pulled him to you. Your lips met again.

Marshall deliberately seized the initiative and pressed you against the bed. It was turning him on, you knew it. He pulled away from your lips and grabbed your jams holding them in one position for a moment and hovering over you. You ran your hand over his chest and taut belly, your hand lingered on his belt and you pulled him toward you. He grabbed your hips and lifted them up. You felt how hard he was and you let out a moan. 

“Honey, I want you to do something for me.”

When you looked at him, you willingly leaned forward and unbuckled his belt. Suddenly Marshall intercepted you and switched places. Now he was on the bed and you were hovering over him.

To be continued

#eminem imagine #eminem #eminem x reader #eminem x you #marshall mathers

[dmwrites]

“Do you have a clock yet?” Impulse asked.

It was a warm day, the bright sunlight sweetened by the gentle breeze off the sea. Everything was new, the next chapter in the life series, and yet, some things stayed the same.

Bdubs searched his inventory. “I don’t, actually, no!”

Tango made some joke about not being able to sleep away the night here, and under that cover of laughter and jokes, Impulse stole down to the rudimentary hole he, Tango, Skizz, and Etho were calling home. Perhaps it was a little silly, to use resources so frivolously like this, but Impulse didn’t care.

Every time Impulse made a clock, he was always surprised how easy the recipe really was. Some redstone, a bit of gold. It felt almost juvenile that such a simple thing held so much weight and history within it.

When the clock was finished, Impulse flipped open the lid and picked up a small knife someone had left around- probably Etho- and began scratching letters into the golden surface.

“Well, I better be off, I’m sure Scar and Cleo are missing me.” Impulse heard Bdubs say from above. He snapped the clock closed, panicked, and raced back up to the surface.

“Wait, Bdubs!” He thrust the clock into Bdubs’ hands. “For you. For old times sake, huh? And maybe a bit of a bribe to not target me.” Impulse laughed, and Bdubs smiled down at the clock.

“Oh, thank you, Impulse!” Bdubs replied, putting it in his off-hand. “For old time’s sake.”

——

“Listen, Bdubs, I have something for you.” Cleo said. It was, if Cleo had to guess, the last day the Clockers would be alive. They were all rushing around, gathering materials and weapons. “You don’t happen to have a clock, do you?”

“Uhh…” Bdubs dug in his pockets for a moment. “I do! Impulse gave it to me way back on the first day!”

“Of course he did.” Cleo muttered, rolling her eyes slightly. “Listen, we can give you a better one. Give it to me.”

Bdubs handed it over, and Cleo went down to their family anvil, ignoring Scar’s babbling.

It was a standard clock, she saw as she looked down at it properly, with a golden lid with a window to the top half of the clock- if you were in a rush, the top was all you needed to tell the time. Cleo took out her tools, and popped the lid, intending to carve something into the back side of the clock lid. It clicked open, revealing the simple sun and moon that told the time, and the scratchings that were already cut into the back of the lid.

For my soulmate -i

“Oh, Impulse.” Cleo murmured softly. She ran her thumb across the letters, tracing each one like she knew Impulse would have wanted someone else to do.

It was so painfully Impulse. Despite some mistakes in his past, he was sweet and kind and loving. And a bit of a bastard, but that was besides the point- weren’t they all. The clock was a given- of course it had been Impulse to give Bdubs a clock. It wasn’t hard to see how much Impulse adored him. And the inscription… Cleo sighed. There was no way that Bdubs had seen it. She brushed away the metal dust that marred the letters slightly; Impulse had probably been in a hurry and hasn’t had time to brush them off yet. Bdubs wouldn’t have let it sit in his pocket like that if he’d known… or maybe he would have. Bdubs was surprisingly unreadable sometimes.

She closed the lid gently, and flipped the clock over onto its back. There she carved out her own message for Bdubs.

mamma’s favourite boy

She buffed her carving with a cloth that looked like it had come from Scar’s shirt, until the gold shined. It wasn’t really about who loved Bdubs more- there’s more then one way to love a person, and no one was adored the way Bdubs was. He would carry two peoples love with him today. Even if he didn’t know it.

#limited life #impdubs #trafficshipping #not rly but kinda #impulsesv #bdubs #Cleo is also there

[patheticdarling]

Consequences

Summary: Reader has been kidnapped by the Greens as payback for the murder of Ser Criston Cole. Now, Aemond, alongside the rest of the Blacks must plot to get her back.

Finale of the Traitors Series

Part I, Part II, Part III Here

Warnings: war acts/cussing/blood/sexual assault (implied & talks of r*pe)/kidnapping/crying/torture & injuries/incest/infertility/moon tea (iykyk)/arranged marriage/mentions of breastfeeding/VERY DARK & ANGSTY

Word Count: 6695 (it's a finale, it has to be long!)

*NOT MY GIF*

Aemond awoke that morning to find his bedside empty, which was not unusual per se. He was quite used to you waking up earlier to go nurse the twins. Though as he dressed for the day, he half-expected you to return, so that you would accompany him to breakfast like normal.

However, the urgent knocking at the door, pulled him from his thoughts, "Enter," he answered as he finished dressing.

"My Prince," the guard bowed quickly, "Her Grace has called an emergency council meeting and requests that you make haste to the Great Hall."

Aemond nodded, "Has my wife been notified as well?"

"I beg your pardon, my Prince, but I cannot be sure," the guard explained, "But Her Majesty sent the Queensguard to gather all members of the royal family."

Aemond gave him another nod before the two made their way to Dragonstone's Great Hall. All the Lords and Ladies stood around the Painted Table, muttering amongst themselves. Aemond tried to push past the uneasiness he felt when the room fell silent upon his entry.

"Your Grace," Aemond bowed to your mother, "Apologies for not accompanying the Princess, I was not sure where-"

"Aemond," her voice a bit hoarse, "Something has happened."

The prince felt his stomach sink further, "Where is Y/N?" he asked with the silent hope that you'd walk in at that very moment.

"There was a message delivered earlier this morning," your mother's shaky voice explained. Maester Gerardys held a piece of parchment, the green Targaryen seal broken, as he began reading it over the table.

"To the False Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen and all of the traitorous members of her Black Council. The Bastard Princess Y/N must answer for her crimes against the Crown. Including the murder of the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Criston Cole. The Princess will be tried and if found guilty, executed on the morrow. Signed, on behalf of His Grace, King Aegon, Second of His Name, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm," the Maester concluded.

Aemond's jaw tensed and his fists balled. Anger seemed to be steaming off of him, like a dragon exuding smoke.

"What is to be done about this?" Luke spoke up.

Jace nearly scoffed at your younger brother's question, "They have our sister. I do not care what means they wish to justify, we will reign fire upon them and-"

"Jacaerys," your mother's tone stern.

Your older brother's jaw tensed, "My apologies, Your Grace. That was out of turn."

Eyes fell to Aemond, one of his hands already gripping the handle of his sword on his hip. His breathing seemed strangely even as he kept his gaze focused on the glowing King's Landing carved into the Painted Table.

"What do we believe to be the best course of action?" your mother addressed her advisors.

Before anyone could move to speak, Aemond turned to leave the Great Hall. That was before various members of the Queensguard took a step into his path.

"I will only say this once, out of my way," the first thing that had left his lips since learning of your kidnapping. All of the knights looked to their Queen for further instruction. Aemond's own head turned slightly.

"Where are you going, Aemond?" she asked.

Your husband turned around slowly, "I'm going to kill our brother."

An almost hushed gasp left the mouths of the Black council, "Aemond, you must know that is foolish," she began to argue, "You'd be slaughtered. And what good will that do Y/N?"

"I do not plan to act alone," his eye fell to your brothers, "The young princes will help me to escort her safely from the city."

Your mother moved to protest, already shaking her head adamantly, "No, they will n-"

"Yes, we will," Jace had already stepped up, joining Aemond's side as Luke trailed behind.

"Jace, Luke, this is far too dangerous," she argued, "You could be killed. All of you. I will not risk my children if I do not have to. Let me send Ser Erryk and the rest-"

"With all due respect, Your Grace, she is our sister," Jace argued.

"It has to be us," Luke finished.

Your mother closed her eyes and let out a heavy sigh, "Fine. I grant you leave. Prince Jacaerys and Prince Lucerys, your sole mission is to stealthly and safely extract the Princess Y/N from the Red Keep. Prince Aemond," she turned to address your husband, his face remained hard, "You are aware of your mission."

"Your Grace," the three young men bowed. The Queensguard stepped aside, allowing your brothers and husband to pass. Jace and Luke taking off to the Dragonmont first after exchanging their goodbyes with your mother.

"Aemond," she stopped your husband, "If you do this, may the Gods have mercy on your soul."

"While I appreciate the sentiment, it is not my soul you should pray for, Your Grace."

But even the mercy of both the old Gods and the new, would not be enough to save Aegon from his younger brother's wrath. Not after Aemond found out what Aegon had been doing.

"Now I can see why Aemond is so taken with you, sweet niece," Aegon snickered as he laced his britches back up, "Most women's bodies never look the same after having a baby."

You lay facing away from him, curled into yourself. The blood ran down your legs, staining the once-pale linen sheets as you let the tears fall across your cheeks.

Aegon knocked back another cup of wine as he finished dressing. He came around to your side of the bed, "Maybe if you're lucky, I'll put another baby in your belly. Wouldn't that be fitting? Bastards for a bastard," he pushed your messed hair from your face as you stared blankly ahead, "Ugh, you know you're dreadfully boring. I liked you better when I was fucking you."

"He's going to kill you," your voice cracked, raw from your screams.

Aegon rushed back over to you, tugging your head back by the nape of your neck, "What did you say?"

"He's going to kill you," you hissed, "Aemond," the letcher tried hard to hide the fear in his eyes, "You think that chair keeps you safe? After he finds out what you've done, there won't be a place in all Seven Kingdoms you can hide from my husband."

"You've never known when to keep your bitch mouth shut," he threw you back onto the bed, "My brother can try to kill me all he likes. It won't undo what's already done, will it?" Aegon cackled drunkenly, "Have the maids change the sheets. I want them fresh for when I return after supper."

And with that, he left you. In a ball of pain, tears, fear, anger, and blood. Locked away. And Aegon was right. Even if Aemond or your mother's council managed to save you, it wouldn't change what Aegon had done to you.

You couldn't be sure how much time had passed when you heard a soft knock on the door, "Y/N?" a soothing voice called for you.

You turned, sitting up from your fetal position on the bed, "Helaena, come in," you sniffled as you pulled on your nearby robe.

She gave you a pitiful smile, a tray of various articles in her hands, "These will help." Helaena made her way over to you, taking a small basin of warm water and a cloth, "May I?"

You nodded as she carefully wiped over the cuts that littered your bruised face and body. She was even more gentle when she wiped the blood from the inside of your calf, offering you the rag before she got higher up.

"Thank you," you muttered as you wiped the remaining dried blood away, wincing slightly.

Helaena extended two warm mugs to you, trading them for the red-stained cloth, "One is milk of the poppy to ease the pain and the other is moon tea to..." her voice trailed off as she rang out the bloodied rag instead.

You drank them both down quickly, handing her back the emptied cups, "I know what it is for. Thank you, Helaena." She set them both down and moved the tray off the bed.

"I am sorry," she spoke as softly as usual, "I hope you know that you do not deserve this, Y/N-"

"And neither do you," you finished.

Helaena avoided your eyes, "He is my husband and their King."

"But not your king?" she stayed silent, "Helaena, it is me, good sister. You may speak freely. You know I'd never betray your trust."

"He is a monster," her voice trembling as she spoke, "Mother said it was my duty to provide him with heirs. I've always wanted children. I tried. But the Gods will not allow it. And I cannot blame them. Why would they allow me to bring a child into this?"

"Oh, Helaena," you took her hands in yours, "I am truly sorry. I know you never desired to be married to Aegon. Had this all been right, you should have married Jacaerys. You might have even been happy. Surely happier than you are now."

"Do you miss your family, Y/N?"

A shaky breath left you, "Very much. I miss my mother and my brothers. I miss my step-sisters. My grandmother. Even Daemon," you laughed a bit before the sobs caught in your throat, "I miss my children. My sweet babies. I know they would love to meet their Aunt Helaena."

She smiled sweetly through her tears, "And Aemond?"

You nodded, sniffling as your own tears fell, "Yes. I miss Aemond. I miss them all. So very much."

Before the two of you could properly find comfort in one another's vulnerability, the chamber doors swung open. The Dowager Queen entered along with Ser Otto Hightower and Ser Arryk Cargyll.

Queen Alicent confused as to why her own daughter was with you, "My Queen," they all bowed to Helaena, "What are you doing with the prisoner?"

"Y/N should not be our prisoner. She is my sister. She is Aemond's wife, the mother of his children-"

"She murdered the Lord Commander, Your Grace," The Hand cut in, "And as for your younger brother, he will be dealt with when the time comes. Now, come along, my Queen. The accused must ready themselves for their trial on the morrow."

Helaena looked to you, apology and pity on her face, "It's alright, Your Grace. Thank you for your help."

"Good night, Princess," she curtsied, "The sapphire will shatter the ruby." It was never unusual for Helaena to give such cryptic messages and yet, you still only understood them once it was too late.

"Ser Arryk, escort Queen Helaena back to her chambers," the Dowager Queen instructed, "I need a moment alone with the Princess Y/N."

Ser Arryk heeded Alicent's commands and led Helaena from the room. Ser Otto exchanged a glance with his daughter before following the young Queen and knight. The door shut behind him as Alicent lingered about the room.

"I remember the last time the two of us were in this room, Princess," she spoke.

You refused to look at her, staring out of the windows at Blackwater Bay, "As do I, Your Grace," your hands falling to your stomach, remembering the sweet feeling of when it swelled with you and Aemond's babies.

"I have heard little about what became of my grandchild. I pray they are alive and well."

You tried to bite back the tears at the mention of your children, "Grandchildren," you corrected her, "Twins. A boy and a girl. Both healthy. And silver-haired, I know you tend to worry about things like that, Your Grace."

Alicent let out a small laugh, or possibly a scoff, "Even though we are the ones who carry and bore them, children do seem to have a habit of inheriting their father's features. What are their names?"

"Viserys and Visenya. For my Grandsire and baby sister. They were born on Dragonstone mere days after both their passings."

"Such a sweet sentiment. I hope to meet them someday," she muttered, "Princess, last time we were in this room, I offered you a deal, do you remember?"

This time you outright scoffed, "How could I forget? My life and the lives of my unborn children in exchange for bending the knee to Aegon and betraying my own mother."

"I would not have put it that way. But it does not matter now. Aegon is King and you are here just the same."

"What is your point, Alicent? Unless you merely came to gloat about how you've managed to tear apart our entire family."

"Tomorrow, your life seems to be up for forfeit yet again. So, I come to you with another proposition," your brow raised as she spoke, "The Hand thinks it wise to annul your marriage to Aemond, as he is a traitor to the Crown-"

"As am I, if you've forgotten," you interrupted, "I do not think you will find another lord who would take my hand. And my lack of virtue will definitely not aid in that."

"It is not a lord that we intend and I can assure you that your lack of virtue will not be considered a fault," she answered, your brow furrowed with her pause, "King Aegon."

You wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it and yet you felt your heart sink at her unwavering demeanor, "You're madder than even I wished to believe."

The Queen Mother cleared her throat, "The King is in need of heirs. You have proven to be fertile enough to provide him with them. You said it yourself, healthy babes with silver hair. And that is exactly what His Grace requires."

You were in utter disbelief, "What of Helaena? You'd have me displace your own daughter."

"It is in keeping with Targaryen customs, is it not? Aegon the Conqueror took both his sisters to wife. Why should my son be any different than his namesake?"

"Your son is no conqueror," you spat, "You and that council of leeches have tried time and time again to break Aemond and me apart. What makes you think this time will be any different?"

"Because this time your life is forfeit, Princess. As is the rest of your family's," she explained, "If you are executed tomorrow, war is inevitable. Hundreds will die, if not thousands. Including your children and Aemond."

"You'd kill your own son and grandchildren? All for a wastrel who never wanted to sit the Iron Throne in the first place."

"I only do what I believe to be in the best interest of the Realm, Princess. Perhaps you could learn a thing or two about that, especially if you are to serve as Queen."

"You are not only mad but completely foolish if you think forcing me to marry Aegon will do anything good for the Realm. My mother, my husband, they'd never let it stand."

"As I told you once before, Rhaenyra will not attack the Capital with her daughter in it. Especially not if her only daughter serves as Queen Consort and if the Gods are good, not if she's carrying the future heir to the throne."

"Do you truly believe the Gods to be as foolish as yourself? You think they would allow me to bear that degenerate's children? Do you truly think I would allow myself to do so?"

"Aegon is our King," she refuted, "His Grace is to be spoken of with reverence. Carrying his children would be a blessing to not only you but House Targaryen and the whole of the Realm."

"You have always known what he is and you toil in his service anyway," the Dowager Queen stood tense at your words, both of your gazes shifting to the blood-stained sheets, "And even as a new mother, I can understand only acting in what you believe to be in the best interest of your children. But does that truly mean turning a blind eye?" you spat, slowly approaching her as she stood ridged, "There are a few things I wish for you to understand, Your Grace. I want you to understand that I will never marry Aegon. Understand that he has never been half-worthy of the throne he sits," mere inches kept you from her face as you lowered your tone, "And I want you to understand this most of all, that it was you who put him there. It is you, Alicent Hightower, who will be to blame when the entire Realm burns for it."

She fought the tears you watched brim in her eyes before swallowing thickly, "Have it your way, Princess. I have tried to be more than fair. May the Father and the rest of the Seven show you just mercy on the morrow. The maids will be in soon to change your sheets. I'd hate for you to sleep in such a mess."

And with that, the Queen Mother left you. Your hands shook and before you knew it, you were tearing the messed bed sheets apart yourself, broken sobs clawing out of your already raw throat. Your chest heaved as you stared at the tattered bed before your knees fell weak and you collapsed to the carpet-covered stone. What was to become of you now?

You weren't sure how you managed to soothe yourself enough to find sleep. The Dowager Queen had commanded that you be bathed and the room rectified for His Grace. And now you were just as you were earlier that day. This time, nobody to help you clean yourself after as you lacked the strength to do it yourself.

"Sleep in it," Aegon had drunkenly mocked as he redressed, "It'll remind you how lucky you'll be to carry my heirs, Princess. Or should I say, my Queen?"

Your body snapped awake when you heard one of your chamber doors creak open as the dim light from the hall illuminated the room. Your body was ridged as you prepared yourself for the struggle yet again. You felt the bed indent behind you, it was odd for Aegon to go about it this way but you thought it best to stay as quiet as possible.

Suddenly a large hand came over your mouth and you did not hesitate to kick, flail, scream, or scratch your attacker. Your tangled hair obscured your eyesight as you fought blindly.

"Get off me!" you cried, "Stop it! Please, no!"

"Shhh, ñuha jorrāelagon, it is me," your body ceased at the familiar tones. A soft touch pushed the hair from your eyes and a sharp gasp left your lips as you were met with the sight of an eyepatch and a soft lilac eye. My love.

"A-Aemond," your voice trembled. Your hands moved to hold his face, tracing the sharp features, "Is that truly you? This is not a dream. A figment of my imagination, perhaps."

He met your hand on his face, "No, my dear wife. I am here. I came here for you."

You should have felt relief at his words but all you could manage was shame. You pulled yourself from Aemond, retreating into your designated fetal position.

"Y/N? What is it?" he reached out for you once again.

"No," you stopped him, "P-Please, do not touch me. I can barely stand you looking at me."

Aemond's brow furrowed before finally taking in your disheveled state. Your hair tangled and damp with tears and sweat. There were gashes all throughout your nightgown. Cuts and bruises decorated your body. And finally, the blood. The blood that stained everything. Your nightgown, the sheets, your legs. He had seen enough of Aegon's previous serving girls, other lowly girls from around the castle, even Helaena. There was no saving Aegon now.

"Y/N, did he-" Aemond could barely bring himself to say the words, "Did Aegon do this?"

You answered first with a sob, "I begged him to stop, Aemond. You must believe me, I did not want-"

"Shhh," he moved to hold you before pulling himself back as you flinched again. His heart breaking, "Of course, I believe you, my love. And I'm sor-"

"Please do not say you are sorry," you cut him off, "That is the last thing I want to hear. Just please promise me it won't happen again. I-I can't go through that- I won't."

"Y/N," Aemond merely placed his hand near you, careful of his movements, "I swear by the Old Gods and the New, he will never lay his hand on you again." Or anyone ever again, once Aemond was through with him.

A wave of relief washed over you as you finally managed to let your hand intertwine with Aemond's. That familiar sense of security enveloping you once again.

"I hope I can assume you have a plan to get us out of this rat's nest of a Capital?"

Aemond nodded, pulling a cloak from behind me, "Put this on. Your brothers are waiting for us."

"My brothers?" you questioned, a tug at your heart at their bravery and dedication to you.

You finished tying the cloak around you before taking Aemond's hand as he led you through the secret passageways that ran through the Red Keep. Finally coming out of the back of the castle onto one of the beaches that surrounded it. Jace and Luke standing beside their own dragons as well as Vhagar and Seasmoke. How they managed to sneak four nearly-adult dragons into King's Landing was a mystery to you.

"Sister! Y/N!" they both turned, running to you, arms open.

Aemond stepped in front of them as you stood ridged, "Slowly, boys." Both of them exchanged concerning looks.

Jace's fist curled around the hilt of his sword at the realization of why Aemond had stopped them, "He did this?"

Aemond gave a quick nod as you looked away shamefully, "And he will be dealt with accordingly."

"I'm coming with you," Jace stated, "Luke, you and Y/N fly back to Dragonstone. Mother will be expecting you."

"Go where? Jace, what are you talking about?" you questioned.

Aemond turned to you, taking your hands gently again, "You are safe and that's all that matters. Now, I need you to mount Seasmoke and fly home."

"I will. Once you do the same with Vhagar and Jace with Vermax."

"I cannot come with you this time, ñuha jorrāelagon." My love.

Tears brimmed in your eyes as you came to understand what was happening. Aemond could not let what Aegon did stand. The threat you had made to the drunken usurper had come to fruition.

"Gaomā daor emagon naejot gaomagon bisa, Aemond. Kosti jikagon lenton. Kosti sagon lēda īlva riñar. Kostilus, ñuha jorrāelagon," you pleaded with your husband. You do not have to do this, Aemond. We can go home. We can be with our children. Please, my love.

"Nyke daor shijetra ñuha lēkia syt bisa. Ziry gaomas daor gūrogon ziry. Ziry ōdrikagon ao," Aemond slowly and gently took your face in his hands, "Aegon must face the consequences of his actions. I must kill him." I cannot forgive my brother for this. He does not deserve it. He hurt you.

"Aemond, if you do this, they'll-"

"Kill me," he finished, "I know."

"And you are just accepting of that? You are just accepting that you are abandoning me? Abandoning our children? Our family?!" your voice cracked as it rose.

Your husband let out a trembling sigh, "I am your sworn protector. That means I swore to rid the world of those who would bring you harm. I do not intend to abandon you, my sweet wife. My priorities were to get you out safely but to also ensure that my brother faces the dire consequences of his actions."

Arguing was pointless, Aemond's mind was made up. But that did not mean you could not try, "As my sworn protector, you made an oath to always be by my side. And our children's. And while I know your mind is set. I just ask that you promise me that you will try," his brow quirked at your request, "That you will try your best to return to me. To return to our babies. Promise me that you will try not to die, Aemond."

He took your hands in his, bringing them softly to his lips, "I promise, my love. For you and our children, I will try."

You wanted nothing more than for Aemond to wrap you so tightly in his embrace and never let you go. But another part of you could hardly deal with his hands intertwined with yours. And Aemond knew this, which is why he pushed no further.

"I love you, Aemond."

"And I love you, Y/N."

"Y/N! Aemond!" you turned to see Jace pointing up at the Red Keep, Aegon's knights marching about, looking for you.

"You must go," Aemond pulled you over to Seasmoke, aiding you as you mounted his back, "Tell our children I love them."

"You will tell them yourself," you stated. Aemond gave you a soft smirk before kissing your hands once again. Jace waved him back to the tunnel before the two of them disappeared into its darkness.

The commotion from the castle stirred the dragons, "Sagon gīda, Seasmoke," you cooed at your dragon. You turned to your younger brother as he finished mounting Arrax, both of you signaling your readiness. Be calm, Seasmoke.

"Down there!" you heard a voice call from one of the cliffs. A small army of guards rushed down to the beach.

"Go, Luke!" you called to him, the panic in his eyes growing as he took flight, "Sōvegon!" Seasmoke took to the air just before the guards were able to circle you. Fly.

The beaches of Dragonstone had never looked more welcoming as they came into view. The usually burnt smell emitting from the Dragonmont was enough to make most gag but right now, it filled your nose like the scent of fresh lavender oil.

"Y/N," Luke approached you wearily as you dismounted from Seasmoke, "A-Are you alright?"

You nodded as the tears brimmed in your eyes at the relief of being home and safe, "Thank you, little brother. I owe you my life."

"You're my big sister," he smiled softly, "And I know you would have done the same for me. Would you like to take my arm? I can escort us to Mother."

That heaviness in your chest dwindled a bit at your brother's sweet gesture as you wrapped your arm in his, "Thank you, Luke."

His eyes fell sad at the bruises that littered your arm, "I can fetch Grand Maester Gerardys afterward if you'd like."

You said nothing but nodded as you continued up the steps and through the halls of the castle. You arrived at the Great Hall, entering the relatively empty room. Only most of your immediate family seemed to be present.

"Prince Lucerys Velaryon and Princess Y/N Velaryon!" Ser Erryk announced quickly, a slight smile on his face at the announcement of your return.

Your mother turned quickly, an alleviated smile spreading across her face as she rushed to you, "Y/N!" she wrapped her arms around you. As much as you hated the idea of being touched by a man, nothing could have eased you more than your mother's warm and protective embrace.

"Mother," your hands clinging to her dress as you both sobbed into one another.

She caressed your hair, tucking it behind your ears, "Oh, my sweet girl. My beautiful princess," she cried as she caught sight of your cut lips and bruised neck, "I am so sorry this happened. And I promise you, they will pay for what they have done."

"Aemond and Jace are making sure of that," you muttered.

"Jace?" she questioned before her eyes moved to a guilt-ridden Luke, "Your brother went with Aemond?"

Luke nodded hesitantly, "Please do not be angry, Your Grace. Jace only did what he thought was right-"

"He deliberately disobeyed me!"

"You said it yourself they must pay for what they've done! Aegon hurt Y/N! He rap-"

"Lucerys!" you cut him off, preventing him from revealing what Aegon had actually done to hurt you, "That is enough."

Your mother's ridged at her assumption of what Luke would have said had you not stepped in, "Y/N, what did they do to you?"

You refused to answer, instead staring her down with your tearful gaze and heavy breaths. This gave her more time to take in your extensive injuries.

"Luke, find Grand Maester Gerardys," her eyes never leaving yours as she delved out instructions, "The rest of you, leave us. We will reconvene later."

"At once, Your Grace," various agreeing statements came from everyone as they exited Dragonstone's Great Hall.

Your mother's breath trembled as she took your hands again, "You do not have to speak if you do not wish. I am only going to ask you this once so we may proceed forward with the same knowledge of what happened to you there." She swallowed thickly as the tears fell down both of your eyes, "Did Aegon rape you?"

And the answer to that very question is what led your husband and elder brother to find themselves creeping through a hidden doorway into Aegon's chambers.

"The guards are busy looking for her," Jace whispered over to Aemond, "We should have plenty of time."

"Mmm," Aemond grunted in return. Aegon was passed out, an empty wine goblet looking as if it had fallen onto his floor. Knowing that Aegon could sleep so soundly after defiling you made Aemond's blood boil. The rage coursed through him as he snatched his older brother from his sleep.

"Huh?!" Aegon grumbled, "Aemond?"

"Hello, big brother," Aemond practically growled. Aegon moved to yell before Aemond clamped his hand over his mouth, "If you so much as make a sound, I will cut off your cock and shove it down your throat before your guards even have time to make it through the doors. Am I clear?"

Aegon huffed before nodding his head, "I see you brought along our Strong nephew. It is so good to see you, Jace. Been a long time, too long really."

Jace finished barring the door, "Uncle. I would not be too happy to see me if I were you."

"And to what do I owe this little surprise visit, Brother?" Aemond only glared at his brother, "Oh, it is not me you wish to see, is it? The Princess Y/N-"

Aemond's hand came across his elder brother's face before taking him by the collar of his shirt, "You dare speak her name? After what you did, you dare-"

"It was only a bit of fun!" Aegon giggled, the wine still having a very obvious effect on him, "You have really got to learn to share, little brother. Keeping a woman like Y/N all to yourself? Well, it's just not fair to the rest of us."

Another blow to Aegon's now bloodied face, "I have never known you to be a wise man, Aegon. But only a fool would do what you did and expect to live long afterward. A debt is owed."

"You do know you will die for this," Aegon muttered.

"You're older, it is only right that you are first," Aemond answered as he pulled his dagger from his belt.

Back on Dragonstone, most of your outward problems had been remedied. The Grand Maester had ensured you that the bruises would fade soon, he had also sewn your bigger cuts and put a soothing poultice over the smaller ones. Your mother and he both instructed the kitchen servants to bring you milk of the poppy when you wished to sleep.

And now you were to finally be reunited with your babies, "They've missed you. I can tell," your mother explained as she escorted you to the nursery.

"It's been less than three nights without them and I still felt as if I would burst into flames," you explained.

Small laughs were exchanged between the two of you, "Your Grace, Princess," one of the maids greeted you, "The babes are in their cradles. Though their next feeding is soon, I can return whenever it pleases you."

"That will not be necessary," you answered, "I will continue feeding them myself as I did before."

"Y/N, you are still recovering," your mother tried to intervene, "I'm sure, she would not mind-"

"As I said before, I will feed my babies."

The wet nurse turned to your mother who gave a curt nod, "As you wish, Princess. Your Grace," she curtsied before leaving the nursery.

You had walked over to the cradles. Your two sweet babies cooing and wriggling about. A smile spread across your face as you took each of them in one arm.

You winced a bit at the added pressure to your bruises, "Careful," your mother moved to take your son, "Here, let me-"

"I'm fine, Mother," you snapped, turning away, "I'm sorry," you sighed, "I know you only mean well. I just need to take care of them. On my own, please."

"I know, my love," she sighed as she pushed your hair from your face, "When you and Jace were born, I hardly let anyone near the two of you. Your father was the exception, most of the time anyway."

"Which father?" she shot you a discerning look, "I am a grown woman, Mother. Not a child. Besides, it is just us. We may speak the truth as we both know it."

Your mother sighed, "Both," she chuckled slightly, "Laenor, Harwin. They both wanted to be involved, a rarity in men nowadays, let alone almost twenty years ago. But I could hardly bear not having you in my arms. I had to protect you. So many people knew the best way to hurt me was to hurt one of you. I could not let that happen. You two were all I had before the rest of your brothers."

You swayed with your own babies, "I love you, Mother. And I can only hope to be half the mother you are."

"You are already better, sweet girl," she caressed your face, "These two have no idea how lucky they are to have you for a mother."

Gazing down at your silver-haired babies brought your mind back to the man they had inherited it from. And your chest grew heavy at the possibility that you might never see him or your twin brother again.

"But they need their father," your voice strained, "I was lucky enough to have Harwin and Laenor for as long as I did. Even Daemon. I cannot imagine if my babies were to never experience that."

Your mother moved to speak, "Y/N-"

"He has to come back," you cried softly, "I cannot do this without him. I just-"

"Your Grace!" the wet nurse had burst through the doors, "Princess, I-I apologize for the intrusion but-"

"The Princes have returned!" Ser Erryk followed into the nursery, his chest heaving as he spoke.

"The Princes?" Ser Erryk nodded at your mother's question, "Gather everyone in the Great Hall as fast as you can," she turned back to you, "We must go."

You nodded, giving each of your babes a hastened kiss on the head before handing them over to the wet nurse, "I shall return."

Your mother and you hurried to the Great Hall. The various members of her council stood by anxiously. You scanned the room and your heart nearly skipped a beat at the sight of your husband and brother. You ran over to them, embracing Jace first.

"I'm so happy you are alright, big brother," you sighed.

Your brother gave you a soft smirk, "It is so good to have you home, Sister, where you belong."

"Aemond," you finally turned to your husband, taking his chiseled face into your shaky hands, "You kept your promise."

His hands fell over yours, "Of course, I did. What would I do without you and our beautiful babies?"

Gazing at your husband allowed you to finally take in his tattered sight. His hair was frizzed, blood smeared on the leather of his clothes, and yet he seemed to be unharmed.

"What happened?" you asked, "Is he-" your voice caught in your throat at the mere thought of Aegon.

Aemond nodded at you before turning to your mother, "Our usurper brother is dead. I imagine the Greens will be on Dragonstone's shores in mere hours."

"Their cause is lost. Are they truly so opposed to my ascension?" your mother asked.

"Alicent Hightower gave the king three sons, Your Grace," the Sea Snake answered, "And not once did your father waiver on you being his appointed heir. She and Ser Otto are far too scorned to give up now."

"Lord Corlys is right," Daemon stepped in, "Aegon's death is merely a further justification of their Rhaenyra the Cruel narrative. We must prepare for war, Your Grace."

Aemond's hand clutched yours as all eyes fell on your mother. Her jaw clenched as she looked around the room, fighting the tears as she looked at you and your siblings.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, "Let us prepare then."

The plan was set. Everyone knew their duties, their missions, and goals. But now they were no longer hypotheticals, they were happening. In real time.

You walked into your children's nursery, standing over their cradles as they slept soundly. Their frail chests rising and falling with their small breaths. The shuffling of armor pulling you from them.

Aemond stalked into the room, his hair tied back and his armor fastened against him. He joined your side at their cribs.

"It seems we spend more time saying goodbye to them than anything else," he spoke softly.

A slight chuckle left your lips, "It's just not fair."

"No it isn't," Aemond agreed.

"My mother was telling me about how protective she was over Jace and me when we were born. She said so many people knew the best way to hurt her was to hurt one of us," you stroked the soft silver fuzz on your twins' heads, "I usually don't like to admit when she's right," you both chuckled, "Our greatest weaknesses."

You felt Aemond's hand take yours, "And our greatest strengths."

You sighed, smiling up at your husband. His usual stoic exterior was soft as he smiled back, "Avy jorrāelan, Dārilaros Aemond." I love you, Prince Aemond.

Aemond kissed you softly, longingly, all his love pouring through. You pulled back, resting your foreheads together, "Avy jorrāelan, Dārilaros Y/N." I love you, Princess Y/N.

The bells of Dragonstone rang and you could hear the clamoring happening just outside. Neither of you wanted to move, neither of you wanted to accept the reality you were living.

One of the wet nurses entered, "Prince Aemond, Princess Y/N," she curtsied, "I've come to escort the children to the keep safe."

You both nodded, each of you taking a swaddle into your arms, careful to mind the armor you wore, "Goodbye, my sweetlings," you kissed their heads, tears staining the cloths they were bundled in, "I love you."

Both of your hearts sank as you handed the babies over to the young girl. No pain could ever compare to the idea of something happening to you or Aemond, something that would prevent you from watching your precious children grow. No pain except for someone hurting them instead.

"No one is ever going to harm them," it was as if Aemond read your mind, "We will see them soon."

You had just finished mounting your dragons. Your hand curled around the hilt of your sword, "Let us ensure it."

You exchanged small smirks with your husband before commanding your dragons to take flight. Ships, men, fires, dragons. Dragonstone had turned from a piece of Targaryen history to a Targaryen war zone. And now it was your turn to fight for everything you held most dear.

"Dracarys!"

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #prince aemond #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #house targaryen #prince aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen angst #angst #y/n #fem reader #dance of the dragons #high valyrian #rhaenyra targaryen #aemond x velaryon reader #lucerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon #helaena targaryen #alicent hightower #otto hightower #daemon targeryan #aegon ii targaryen

[lewsnumerounofan]

late last night (lh x reader)

summary: lewis flies you out for a fun weekend, and maybe something more.

notes: nsfw, established hu to smth more?, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), tiny bit of angst. 2k words. did i change tense halfway thru? yeah i did. we dont talk abt it tho. all heavily inspired by @lewisyellowhelmet !!!!

+ check out other works here

+ was too lazy to fix formatting issues. oops

-----

The text came in just after midnight. In typical Lewis fashion it was short, to the point.

Come get away for a few nights. Promise I’ll make it worth your while.

And then a plane ticket, first class.

You tucked your phone into your chest, eyes scanning the street in front of you. He always did this. A late-night text and plane ticket, a promise for a fun weekend. And it was fun -- visiting Lewis’ expensive hotels under a fake name, eating lavish meals in the private rooms of the most esteemed restaurants, touching him quietly, secretly under the table. But Monday always came around and you’d wake up to an empty suite, cold coffee and a note from Lewis thanking you for a good time. 

Sighing, you texted back, fingers clumsy with cold.

Cant. Work is busy.

You closed your messages and made to head back inside when your phone lit up again.

A photo this time. It was poorly lit, but you could tell that whatever exotic timezone he was in had him in bed, shirtless, tattooed fingers resting easily over a white sheet. A white sheet that sat dangerously low on his taught hips. Though his face was cut out, the compass stretching over his muscled chest was unmistakable.

Even now, hundreds of miles between you, you felt a slow curl of heat between your legs.

And then: See you tomorrow

Cocky bastard.

-

It was mid-afternoon by the time your flight touched down, and the heavy race-weekend traffic ensured it was almost sunset before you arrived at the hotel. The man at the desk handed you a key and a knowing smile when you gave him your name.

The lobby was full of people, well-off couples preparing for a night out. You had to look away from a pair giggling together on one of the high-backed love seats, the brush of their lips intimate and familiar.

-

Lewis answers the door on your first knock. Doesn’t wait to help you drag your suitcase in, only cups your face and let his full lips slant over yours. Everything slips away as he holds you so reverently in his tattooed palms like you were the most precious thing in the whole world.

“Missed you.”

His voice is rough as he speaks, sleepy almost in its comfort. You smile at him, turn to kiss his wrist, bite it quickly.

You hear him groan as you shift back to your suitcase, pulling it inside the high-ceilinged room. You can barely concentrate on the dim candle-lit interior with Lewis’ hot body at your back, but you let your eyes linger on the twinkling sky line for a moment -- the stray lights of other lives, so far away.

And then Lewis, all pressed up behind you. Hands around your waist, pulling you back to him, back on him.

“Lewis...”

“Missed the way you say my name.”

You let him shuffle you to the couch, low set and plush, soft on your cheeks.

His hands on your jeans, eager but not rushed as he pulls them down. You shiver at the cold, at the glaze over Lewis’ eyes as he watches you squirm. A hot, wet kiss to your thigh, quick as he kneels between your legs. Kneels for you. Your lips part as his big hands wrap around the outside of your hips and tug you to the edge of the seat. Eyes on you, he tucks a finger into you, knowing you want more, need more. It’s too much and you look away, afraid he’ll see the vulnerability you’ve been biting back since he first opened the door. But he tuts and forces you back with a hand on your jaw.

“Eyes on me. Want you to watch what I do to you.”

And then he’s tugging your underwear off too, leaning down to replace his fingers with his tongue. You arch into him, trying to get away, trying to get more, but his hands are solid on your hips, keeping them open and splayed out for him.

“Lewis-”

He doesn’t bother responding, too busy fucking his tongue into you and circling your clit with his calloused thumb.

“Lewis, Lewis, Lewis.”

A prayer now, as you tug at his braids. Already your core is clenching, legs twitching on either side of his head. The sinful image of his ringed hand pressing into your stomach to pin you down --

You can’t stop yourself from tipping over the edge when he looks up at you, cheeks rosy, mouth red, tongue still working you. 

Hazy as he picks you up and carries you to the bedroom. The hotel now rests in a dark navy. Your breathing is loud in the quiet of the big room. Laying you down, Lewis kisses your forehead once, twice. A firm press of his lips. You feel him shift away and catch his wrist as he goes to stand. He can see the question in our eyes.

“Gonna get you a cloth to clean up,” he says, real soft and low.

You have to swallow before you speak again, quiet like it's a secret.

“You don’t have to. I mean, I want you. If…”

You’re flustered now, heat rising on your cheeks. Lewis’ sharp eyes don’t move from your face. He cuts you off with a kiss, harder this time. I want you too, it says.

“Okay,” he mumbles against your lips.

He’s moving over you now, the strength in his shoulders, his arms, making the predatory advance up your body easy. But he’s gentle as he nudges you back like he too can feel the shift.

The sheets are cool at your back, a stark contrast to the feverish heat from where your bodies are joined. You can feel him heavy and thick at your thigh even with his pants. Fumbling, almost desperate through kisses you unzip him, palming him once over his briefs before slipping your hand under to touch him.

He curses into you, breaking from your lips to rest his forehead on yours, eyes shining as they watch where you grip him. You’re aching to take him into your mouth, to finally taste him like you’ve been dreaming of for weeks, but Lewis has other ideas, instead going to fully remove his shirt and pants.

Seeing him like this always takes your breath away. The steady strength of him, the dark markings of his tattoos, the hard length of him. Looking at you from under a few escaped braids, Lewis looks like a god. A god intent only on worshipping you.

He’s crawling back up to you, groaning into your mouth as you brush together. His tongue claiming you, running along your teeth. He draws back quickly, pulling your thighs apart deftly to spit on your cunt. You throw your head back, gasping -- too tight, too frenzied at the feel of his spit coating you.

And then he’s back over you, crowding you. All Lewis, only Lewis.

“Okay?”

You nod into his shoulder, hands already leaving marks on his muscled back. Tomorrow, in the paddock and in the car, he’d feel them sting and think of you. The idea was enough to have you clenching on air, begging him to let you take it.

He only laughed, a lazy smirk revealing the tooth gap you loved so much.

“So needy for me, huh princess.”

And then he was forcing into you, even the tip a stretch, filling you up and more, more, more. You bit down hard on his shoulder as he sank into you.

“So good. S’always so good.”

His hips finally resting flat against yours, and the pressure of him inside you was more than you could bare. Lewis slipped his hand down -- down to press on the bulge in your stomach where he was now seated, chuckling roughly again when you cried out.

“You take me so well.”

He tongues the words into your mouth, finally moving inside you. A long drag out and then a snap of his hips and you knew you wouldn’t last. Not with him watching your lips with half-lidded eyes, jewellery glinting from the city’s lights, mouth open and red.

“Lewis.”

He shivers mid-thrust, burying his head back into your neck, kissing up your throat.

“Lewis,” you gasp, watching the push and pull of his back as he moved in you, the bunching of his shoulders and quick, timed rhythm of his hips. His hands on your leg, forcing you wider, taking more. Mouth wide as he bites at your neck, forces you back into the pillows. It’s too much, too good -- the clench of you around him, the moans he keeps spilling onto your skin.

“Lewis, I’m gonna-”

A slightly different slant to his pelvis, the hard slide of it over your clit as Lewis bottoms out inside you and you’re cumming, vision white as you gasp into his chest.

“Almost there baby. ‘M so close.”

Everywhere he’s touching you is fire, the overstimulation casting stars across your vision.

“Almost there,” he murmurs again, so low and husky. You can feel the stutter in his thrusts, hear the break in his voice as he pants above you.

“Finish in me.”

It’s a plea more than anything else but you know as soon as you speak the words that there’s nothing you’ve ever needed more.

“Cum in me Lewis, need it.”

His whole body tenses, eyes near savage as they meet yours.

“Yeah?”

You nod once, whimpering as his pupils blow wide, darken. His thrusts pick up again, harder this time. Vaguely you’re aware of the clock being knocked off the nightstand beside you, but you’re too busy watching Lewis to care.

“Gonna fill you up. Gonna make you mine, only mine.”

And then he’s cumming, pulsing in you as his hips weakly stuttered through a last push. Your weave your hands into his hair, place soft kisses over his nose, forehead, cheeks. He’s lazy as he kisses you, his full weight boring you down, keeping your legs open and aching. Only when his heart stops pounding does he pull away, a hoarse groan leaving his parted lips as he slips out of you. Not even self-respect could stop you from reaching for him but he stayed kneeling before you, big ringed hands parting your knees.

“Lewis?”

His hot gaze on your core, he drops two fingers down to push his cum back inside you. Arching against the mattress as he watched, mesmerized, as you fluttered around them, desperate for him again already.

“Need my cum inside you, yeah? Need me marking you.”

God. What was he doing to you? So desperate -- for what? What more could you take? But then he was moving again, tucking his semi-hard cock back inside you, pushing his cum deeper.

“Lewis,” a half sob this time, nearly drooling at the press of him, the sensitivity.

Tears in your eyes as he kissed you.

“S’okay. You can take it.”

--

The weekend was over before you knew it. Another win for Lewis. You watched from the hotel TV, suddenly feeling so very far away from him. The sticky lingers of champagne you licked off him when he got back.

This time was different somehow. He’d stayed to eat breakfast with you each morning, fingers playing over yours as you cradled your coffee. Or Saturday after a disappointing quali when you’d opened the door and he’d folded himself into you, kissing softly at your neck. You’d fallen asleep to a stupid TV show, room service discarded on the floor, Lewis’ chest rising and falling at your back.

But now it’s Monday. And when you check the clock -- the clock you’d had to get replaced after its untimely demise -- you see it’s late and you know Lewis has already left.

It shouldn’t bother you so much. Shouldn’t make you feel quite so empty. You take your time getting ready, showering but leaving your hair down and wet along your shoulders. It’s only after, when your stomach begins to grumble, that you leave the bedroom and the lingering smell of Lewis.

Except at the kitchen counter, clicking through data sheets and absentmindedly sipping at a steaming mug of tea is Lewis, sweats low at his hips, braids drawn back.

“Lewis?”

You wonder if you've got your days wrong, if you’d somehow dreamt up the glory of yesterday's win.

“Hey sleepy head,” he grins, twisting to watch you. You’re confused. He knows it too, tries not to flush as he clears his throat.

“Uh, I know I promised the weekend only. But my favourite caffe is only open Monday to Friday, so I thought I’d stay another day and we could go together.”

He’s not looking at you, hands twisted quietly in his lap. The seven time world champion sat before you blushing like a school girl. Oh, Lewis.

“We don’t have to though, I know you’re busy so-”

“What about tomorrow?” you ask.

Hi eyes are on yours now, brow furrowed.

“Tomorrow?”

You bite your lip, smile. You can’t help yourself as you move towards him, dragging your palms up his muscled legs.

“Yeah, what're we gonna get up to tomorrow?”

He’s grinning back at you now, all tooth gap and eye-crinkles.

“I’m sure we can come up with something. Okay?”

You're leaning into him, pushing up onto your tippy toes to kiss him, to fold the word into his mouth:

“Okay.”

#bigkeepup #lewis Hamilton smut #lewis hamilton x you

[box4brains]

I just want to talk about Law…

Kinda hc-y, could I get other ppls opinions and views on these things?

So!

I hc Law as someone who has extreme issues with control. In fact, he knows he can be unreasonable and extreme when it comes to being in control, however due to his trauma he associates not being in control with the worst moments of his life and thus fear it more than anything else.

He can’t not be in control and not fear he’ll lose anything and everything he holds dear.

I know there’s a lot of jokes about how relaxed Law was before the time skip and while it’s possible that it’s just Oda not having cemented his character, I generally look at it as Law just… being a cocky little shit.

Law is someone I see as extremely cautious, strong and clever. He wouldn’t put himself or his crew in danger if he could avoid it. And in case he can’t avoid it, try ending it as fast as possible and in whatever manner is safest to him and his crew.

So unlike Luffy he never had any close calls all through the first half of the GL. He never encountered any truly strong marines or enemies the same way Luffy did.

I don’t think he’d go out of his way to be antagonistic or pick fights like Kid either.

Law is definitely still cautious, but the first half of the GL basically being a breeze would definitely make him a cocky little bastard. At least until the war between the WBP and the marines gave him a wake up call in the form of a metaphorical slap to the face.

But it it still doesn’t adequately explain his “new” personality in Punk Hazard (imo).

He appears to act hastily, is grim and severe and appears to be in the middle of a suicide attack. Seems weird and kinda ooc… at least without a good reason for it.

I generally look at it like this;

Law is acting more hastily than he’d prefer, because he knows he’s running out of time.

We know his original plan to take down Doflamingo wasn’t what he’d actually wanted to do. Law wanted revenge, he wanted to fight Doflamingo himself, not set up this elaborate scheme that basically used Kaido to do what he couldn’t.

So what’s the rush?

I believe that Law designed the Heart pirates logo/jolly roger and picked the name as a way to honor Cora’s memory, but it was also meant to send the message to Doflamingo “I’m your Corazon, I’m coming home”. That’s why the flag look so alike, remember, Doffy doesn’t know that Law was present when he killed his brother. Doffy doesn’t know that Law knows that Doffy means to use him to further his own agenda.

From Doffys pov it probably looks like Law disappeared only to appear maybe 5-6 years later as a pirate, practically wearing his symbol and carrying the title/name he raised him to inherit.

I believe Law would know Doflamingo well enough that Doflamingo would take it as a sign that he was (perhaps slowly and meticulously, just as he was taught) making his way back “home”.

Hell, Doflamingo probably was all happy and smug about it. His 3:rd Corazon was working his way up in the world, making his way back to his side, despite his own brother having done everything in his power to mess everything up.

Remember, Law was in no hurry to make his way into the New World. I think it’s because he knows he can only prolong his appearance in front of Doffy for so long if he did.

Now, I hc hard that Law and the Heart pirates deal in the black market, specifically because Law knows that Doflamingo is Joker, and he needs all the dirt and information he can get to try and stay one step ahead of Doffy, and to try to find his weak spots.

Well, he finds out about SAD, Smile and Kaido. Finally he’s got something he might use to his advantage. However, he also finds out that Kaido’s almost done creating his army of world domination. Maybe he gives it a year or so before the whole world will be dragged into a war guaranteed to change the world forever, both politically and geographically. And then all his knowledge will be useless.

And Law knows Doffy won’t wait another decade or so before he might be able to tackle Doflamingo again.

No, his only choice is to get in front of the storm brewing on the horizon, to take charge and use the pieces all around him to place himself in the eye of the hurricane and use the powers around him to accomplish his own goals.

He needs to use Kaido to take out Doflamingo. It doesn’t matter if Kaidos army of beasts is almost done, practically done or just a single person short. Kaidos temper is legendary, and his rage against Doflamingo failing to fulfill his duties would lead to a clash between them, a clash Doflamingo has no hope of winning.

A strong and clever pirate could sweep in after an stake his claim in the New World. The probability of coming out on top is abysmally small, but Doffys defeat is practically guaranteed, and the rewards of success is incredibly enticing. Not to mention he has no other choice.

Now Law is a warlord during this. He needs the contacts in the navy and he needs something to be a plausible reason for not turning up at Doflamingos doorstep with a smile and begging to be his puppet.

Law knows, Doflamingo likes useful pawns, but Laws biggest use is to die so Doffy can live forever, and Doflamingo isn’t going to wait forever, regardless of how much Law improves his abilities and allure as someone who’s usefulness is off the charts.

So he gets his hands on a eternal pose to PH and says goodbye to his crew… They don’t want to part, but they know that his orders are absolute, to disobey orders is to be kicked from the crew, so they go, and pray to anything that will listen to please let their captain come back to them.

And Law negotiates with Ceasar. He gives him his heart, his freedom, his most precious thing, what Cora-san died slowly and agonizingly to give him. And then… Luffy

For the second time in Laws life, Luffy crashes into his life, turning everything upside down and blowing all his carefully laid plans out of the water.

Luffy who’s freedom itself, Luffy who’s the very definition of the D that Cora-san spoke of. The storm that declared war against the world, the enemy of the gods that punched a celestial dragon in the face without a moment’s hesitation.

In the face of such an free soul, the invisible leach that Ceasar has around Laws neck chafe something terrible. Listening to the clown happily talking about how he made drug addicts of small children, something in Law finally snaps and he ends up hunting down Luffy with the goal of making an alliance.

Because some part of Law trusts Luffy, regardless of how much he hates it, swears up and down that he doesn’t, that he shouldn’t…

After all, Luffy and his crew are perhaps the definition of the type of people that he can’t help but open his heart for. (Strong-willed, happy-go-lucky and determined with a tendency to do everything in their power for those they care for). And that terrifies him. Because Luffy can’t be controlled, and therefore Law cannot protect him.

And Law just can’t handle losing a loved one again. Never again. There’s a reason he always makes sure to place himself between anything that would do them harm and his crew.

Anyway, I sure would like to hear other people’s thoughts and/or hc of Law and his character

… I spent most of the night writing this 🙄 oh well…

#trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #trafalgardwaterlaw #character discussion #one piece #heart pirates #rant

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

Thought of a celebrity AU where Jon and Damian were on the same popular kids show together that gave rise to a lot of teen and adult idols. Damian preferred being more behind the scenes and got into directing. Damian also coming from a long line of trained entertainment stars and wanting to go the director route like Bruce. Jon became the big heart throb and Damian constantly uses Jon as his muse in his filming. Damian’s films helped him transition from that heartthrob to a series artistic actor with critical acclaim.

oooh that'd be fun! and just because I recently saw the trailer for that tell-all about the 90s/00s nickelodeon days shadiness, imagine that Damian found out that Jon was mistreated as a child actor, that Damian only found out long after the fact. And yeah, he's already an established director and climbing the ranks in the entertainment world, but suddenly Jon wakes up to a million texts and BREAKING NEWS banners all over his phone-

Because Damian was arrested after beating up the executive producer from their child acting days. and not just beat up, like literally almost murdered. And witnesses reported hearing him screaming at this producer, "This is for what you did to him, you bastard!" between every punch and kick and hit. And the producer, the sleazebag that he was, at some point probably shouted back like, "You're finished in this town, Wayne! You're done!" to which Damian replies, "I don't give a fuck, so long as he's safe from fuckers like you."

and Jon sits there seeing all the tweets and messages and news reports and videos and just starts crying, because it was all for him. He knows it. And it's because Damian loves him, is in love with him, and he's in love with Damian too, but now? Now, as Damian's in jail and they're separated, it might be too late for them. After all these years.

#jondami #damian wayne #jonathan kent #also shippy headcanons #au chattering #kidding of course we know famous folks are held to different standards #damian gets out of jail and they live happily ever after making a24 films #asks #anon

[ichangedmycornyahhname]

Aged up!Neteyam X Aged up!Avatar!Reader

𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐬

Warnings: Slight smut (reader getting fingered) | Mentions of blood | mentions of weapons and war | A little angst (I guess?) | Sort of forbidden love | Slow burn (might do a part two if people like it) | Not proof read AT ALL

Summary: Y/N had just left earth, coming to pandora with the intention of earning money. However, she expected everything except having an avatar body. One day she’s sent on a mission to protect supplies being transported back to base. Later that night the train was attacked by the na’vi and she found herself fighting for her life. And that was the moment she saw him.

The distant forests whisked by as she glared out of the window. The blue of her avatar body contrasted the silver metal of the train she currently sat in. Y/N had been tasked with transporting goods back to the main base without any casualties. Which, at the time sounded like an easy job. Now as the train zipped through the lush planet, she found her mind jumbled. The only ones on the train with her was the small task force group also assigned to transporting the goods. Although as Y/N spared a glance to each, she could see their lack of professionalism.

She sighed, adjusting the gun in her lap. Somehow she’d managed to squeeze herself into the small car of the train, her head resting against the wall of it. So far everything seemed to be going just fine, no incidents, no na’vi spotted. Tonight it would seem luck was on her side. “Hey princess, you look lonely over there. Why don’t you come take a seat here.” Y/N’s face scrunched up at the nickname, her gaze meeting the persons with distaste. Dean, the bastard. He always harassed her, believing that he himself was the best looking one there. Y/N of course couldn’t agree. In fact, it was difficult enough looking at him. His face still looked aged in his avatar body, his creepy smirk managing to make him look even worse. She noticed where his hand was placed. Right on his lap. “I will shoot you.” Y/N spoke, her eyes narrowing as her hand slipped to the handgun at her hip.

This got the message across. Dean chuckled awkwardly in response, shaking his head as he averted his gaze. “Pussy.” Layla, the woman sitting across from Y/N said as she gestured towards Dean. “Quit hitting on the new girl Dean, before she really does shoot you.” Layla rolled her eyes as she shook her head. “Y/N, you should totally shoot him, he’s such a dick sometimes.” She egged on, a friendly smile on her face. Although she was joking, Y/N was almost tempted to do so. “Yeah, he’s a dick all the time. I really should sho-“

BOOM

Y/N suddenly fell forward, her body thudding against Laylas now limp one. The train car was now blazing with a new fire, smoking filling the air as cinders stung at Y/Ns skin. The back half of the car was missing, along with Dean. The poor bastard. She pushed herself off of Layla, the woman’s faint breaths bringing a slight relief to her. Her ears rung, her eyes adjusting to the new sight. Y/N hardly had time to recover before shots were fired. An arrow whistled past her, narrowly missing her head. Her ears fell, lowering as she came to realize what was truly happening. Dean was dead, Layla was unconscious, and they were under attack. Well fuck. Y/N scrambled around to find her gun, flipping stray pieces of debris over as she searched for it. “Where the hell is it..!” She coughed out as smoke burned her lungs. The broken cart began to tremble and creak, threatening to collapse any moment. “Fuck it.” Y/N muttered as she gave up trying to find it. She had her handgun, she’d be fine. Or so she hoped.

With a grunt she hoisted Layla over her shoulder, huffing as the woman’s body weighed her down. Avatar bodies were way too heavy. Shuffling out of the train cart, she carelessly scratched her calve against a sharp piece of debris. All she could do was groan uncomfortably, her jaw clenching as she made her way out just in time. Behind her, the roof of the train car caved in, collapsing into a pile of nothing. Though that relief was brief as she came to realize she was in enemy territory. And the enemy was only a few feet away. God she had the worst luck. Y/N stumbled towards the forest, praying that she could at least find a place to take cover before she was noticed. Her valve ached with each step, the warm trickle of blood stimulating her senses. The debris from before had hurt her bad, leading to the light headed-ness she suddenly felt. “Fuck Layla..why are you so damn heavy.” She cursed as she finally entered the forest, large bushes covering a majority of their bodies. Y/N however didn’t stop. She continued forward, heading deeper into the woods as the war cries of the Na’vi sounded behind her. Though their voices were distant, it was still too close for comfort. Her eyes wandered the area, flickering across the bustling fauna that watched her curiously. Under different circumstances she would’ve enjoyed the bioluminescence of the forest, but that wasn’t the case. Y/N stumbled about until finally her body gave into its exhaustion. She toppled over, Layla’s unconscious body falling next to her. Her head spun incoherently as she found it difficult to stay awake.

Just as she was about to succumb to her wounds, a face appeared in her peripheral vision, jolting her up. She panted, panicked by the unfamiliar face. Her hand found the pistol at her side, pulling it out and aiming it at the enemy shakily. Her vision was blurred, her finger trembling on the trigger as the figure aimed an arrow at her. She could feel their hard gaze on her, daring her to make a move as they hid within a bush hardly visible. Y/N hesitated for some reason, her gun falling to her lap as her eyes glazed over. Black speckled her vision before finally she fell, her head hitting the ground with a thud.

-

Her ears twitched, unfamiliar voices flooding her senses. While she had no clue what was going on, from what she could tell the voices were arguing, combating one another about..what? Her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the bluish green lights surrounding the place. Her eyes felt heavy as they wandered around, taking in the area. From what she could tell, she was inside a small tent like area with two people standing over her. They wore loincloths, and other traditionally na’vi clothing. Wait a damn minute. Y/N shot up, her eyes widening as a surge of pain shot through her leg. “God damn it..!” She laid back down, her eyes clenched shut at the uncomfortable pain. The voices around her had silenced, now a wordless silence. Slowly she opened her eyes, her gaze finding two mens. They focused in on her, their eyes harsh. “Great you woke her up.” One of them said as they pinched the bridge of their nose. “Your mother will not be happy about this. Neteyam, stay here and WATCH her. Don’t let her out of your sights, understand me boy?” The man with dread locs commanded before departing from the tent. The other man, who she assumed was this Neteyam guy, frowned hands running through his long braids.

His gaze turned to meet hers, yellow eyes giving her a once over. “What’s your name?” He questioned as he stared down at her. Y/N didn’t bother responded, instead opting to sit back up and attempt to grab her gun. Instead of finding her gun, she found the ropes that wrapped around her wrists and ankles. Her expression hardened. “So you chose to kidnap me instead of kill me? It was you who was aiming that arrow at my head, yeah?” The man only sighed in response, rising from his crouched position to place his hands on his hips. “You chose to put your weapon down when you could’ve easily shot me first. And you did faint.” He made his way across the tent, grabbing some sort of bowl. “It’s hard not to faint when you’re bleeding out of your le-“ She paused as she analyzed her leg, odd cloth was wrapped around it, blood staining a small spot of it. “You patched me up..” Y/N muttered in disbelief.

“Yeah, well I would’ve felt bad if I just let you die. Now let me see your leg Tsampongu girl” He said as he crouched in front of her, a sort of paste coating his fingers. “Tsam-po what girl?” She said as she quirked a brow. The man only chuckled in response as he unwrapped the bandages with his free hand. “This might sting a little..” He spoke before dabbing the mixture onto her wound. Y/N hissed in response, jolting away at the intense pain. Glancing down, she got a good look at the wound. It was pretty deep, and made her stomach feel queasy. “Damn, be a little more gentle!” She grumbled as she glared down at him. He didn’t bother replying, instead continuing to tend her wound. Y/N was beyond confused. Why exactly was he helping her. She hadn’t done anything to help him, and she certainly wasn’t on his side. “Neteyem right? Why are you being so nice? Do you want something from me?” She questioned before jolting her leg away, a groan rumbling in her throat. Neteyam’s eyes shot up to hers, his brows knitting as he pulled her leg back to him. “I want you to sit still Tsampongu girl. And it’s Neteyam. Not Neteyem.”

“Why do you keep calling me that? And you didn’t answer my first question.” She retorted, receiving only silence in response. He finished with the paste, now wrapping new bandages around her leg. “Next time sit still, it’ll make it go faster.” He said before standing up and returning the bowl to its rightful place. “To answer your question-“ He said as his back faced her. “I’m not sure why I’m being so nice. You don’t deserve it really…but something about you.” He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes raking over her body. “Draws me in.”

Y/N felt her face warm, her eyes falling into her lap at his confession. She felt incredibly flustered by his words, and his intense gaze. ‘What the hell is wrong with this guy?’ She thought to herself. Neteyam returned, crouching back down, though this time he was right next to her. “Tsampongu girl, what is your name? Unless you want me to keep calling you that.” He smiled, his eyes soft as they watched her. Y/N sighed, slouching forward as she finally gave in. “Y/N. Also you still haven’t told me what the hell that means.” She scowled at him, though she had to admit the nickname was beginning to grow on her.

“War girl. Because that is how we met. Now-“ Y/N interrupted, “Wait. Where’s the woman I came here with. You did bring her right?” Neteyam pursed his lips in response, studying her expression for a moment before speaking. “She’s fine, being taken care of. You know Tsampongu girl, you love interrupting me.” His monotone expression was enough for her to realize that she was beginning to get on his nerves. “Or you take forever to talk.” She rolled her eyes, sarcasm lacing her tone. “Or you talk too much.” He snapped back as his face neared hers. Y/N leaned away, her eyes taking in his appearance. Now that she really looked, she could see just how attractive he was. His pretty eyes, lean build, and tall stature. If they had met any differently, she probably would’ve made a move. She noticed his lips and the way his tongue slid over his bottom one. She noticed the way his body tensed as she hyper analyzed him. The way his gaze hardened, staring right back at her as the silent tension grew. They were so close to one another, the warmth of his presence drawing her in. “You..” Neteyam hesitated, his words falling to nothing as the man from before stormed back in, this time a woman followed in his path. Y/N couldn’t lie, she was a bit disappointed she didn’t get to hear what Neteyam was going to say, but now she was on high alert.

“Grandmother.” Neteyam spoke as he gestured some sort of greeting to her. The woman simply waved him off as she approached Y/N. The older woman gave the younger woman a once over, her eyes narrowing as she analyzed her. The woman spoke to the other two men in a language Y/N couldn’t manage to comprehend. She quirked a brow, her eyes falling to Neteyam. “Hey what’s she saying? She’s not gonna kill me is she?” She didn’t receive a response. Instead the woman knelt down beside her, pulling a long needle from a sheeth in her head decor. She poked it into Y/Ns skin, an “ow” leaving her lips as she cringed at the woman. She watched as the woman licked the fresh blood from the needle, her eyes studying their capture. “Why have you come here?” She questioned as she stood straight.

“Wha-“ The man with locs cut in. “Don’t make this difficult, just be honest.” Y/N scoffed as she observed the group. It would seem they were quite serious. She took a moment, trying to come up with the gist of things. “I have no intention of harming your home if that’s what you’re thinking. Just doing my job. Except now that the trains gone..I guess there is no job.” She muttered the last bit to herself as she stared at nothing. She hadn’t thought about it before. People died, people that she knew. And now she was practically alone. “Look, if you’re gonna kill me then just do it. I know I’ve seen too much for you to let me go.” Neteyam cut in, stepping forward. “We’re not going to kill you. But you are correct, we cannot let you leave. So, you will stay and learn. While my father isn’t fond of you staying near the people, you will be staying here and I will watch over you. Understand Tsampongu girl.” From what she could tell, they weren’t giving her any options. So, she nodded in agreement, a sigh leaving her lips as she laid back down. The cot she sat on was plush enough to support her back, along with the small pillow that she rested her head on. The man, who she assumed was Neteyams dad, walked out with the older woman.

“Well then Y/N. Get some rest, because tomorrow is going to be very fulfilling.” Neteyam spoke as he set out his own cot. It was across the tent from her, far enough for personal space but close enough to keep an eye on her. The place was still lit by small lantern like objects, giving her enough light to watch him closely. “I can feel you staring Tsampongu girl. Is there something you need?” His gaze burned into her. “Actually, now that you mention it…” She raised her arms, the ropes on her wrists still intact. “These are getting pretty uncomfortable.” The man sauntered over, his large hand coming to grasp the ropes. He hummed with amusement, a smirk lacing his lips. “Hmm, war girl, I’m not sure I trust you enough. Sure you’re beautiful I’ll give you that. But you’re dangerous too.” She gasped, flustered and attempting to remove her arms from his grasp. Neteyam had other plans. He knelt down, pinning her wrists over her head as he began to close the proximity between them. “You’re too close I..you need to move before I-“ He chuckled at her response. “You’re mistaken Y/N, I’m simply untying your ropes. Unless, you thought I was making a move on you?” He released the ropes tying her wrists together, circulation beginning to flow once more. Y/N scowled at him. “Shut up.” She muttered before his hand trailed down her body, falling to her waist. His fingers felt light as a feather against her skin, and somehow it felt as though he was burning her with his touch. Unconsciously she jutted her hips into his touch, a heavy breath leaving her as they glared into one another’s eyes. “War girl..does my touch make you nervous?” Neteyam egged on, his face nearing hers. And suddenly his hand left her, now grasping the belt and handgun that was once around her hips. “Fuck you.” Y/N said as she slapped his other hand away. He looked at her, puzzled by her sudden aggression. “Did I do something wrong?” She only scoffed in response, the feeling from before beginning to fade to nothing. “No, it’s nothing just..nothing.”

“Pänutìng if you don’t communicate I cannot help. Now tell me, what is the issue?” Y/Ns gaze softened at his words, her body lifting up as she used her elbows to support her. “You keep teasing me and I don’t like it.” She muttered, her voice softening as the embarrassment washed over her. She never truly realized how pathetic she was until now. Needy for his touch after everything that had occurred. Neteyams hand returned, trailing down her legs at such a tantalizing pace. It had her hoping for more. His hand got closer and closer to the place she needed him most, where she yearned to feel his burning touch. ‘Just a little closer’ She thought as she bucked her hips. Instead his hand fell to her thigh, trailing and massaging the fat of it. It wasn’t as though he was the first person to touch her such a way, it was the way he meant it. The way he took his time to observe every last inch of her. His hand trailed lower, loosening and removing the ropes that bonded her ankles. While it felt relieving, she was too distracted by the way his hand returned to her inner thigh. It rested there, his fingers fiddling with the fabric of her jean shorts. His expression changed, becoming one of confusion rather than lust. “These, what are they?” Y/N was confused, her eyes studying him to see if he was being serious. “Shorts. Have you seriously never seen them? Huh.”

“Take them off.” Her eyes widened at the his command, her stomach swirling with a familiar feeling. “Wha-“ “You said you didn’t like me teasing, so take them off and let me do what I need to.” Y/N stuttered for a moment as she fiddled with her shorts, doing her best to shimmy them off. She felt hot under his gaze, her body heating up as she yearned for more. “Your undergarments. They’re different. They’re..cute.” He uttered out as he spread her legs apart. Her clit throbbed at the rough touch, his hand beginning to tease at her slit. “T..they’re just underwear.” He licked his lips as he finger lightly ran over the wet patch on her panties. “Pänutìng quit being so stubborn with me.” Neteyam spoke before slipping his finger under her panties. He let out a sigh a the feeling of her soaked cunt. It was warm, and drenched. While Neteyam teased at her cunt, Y/N was a mewling mess. One hand grasped at his bicep as support, little pants escaping her lips as she attempted to stay composed. “You’re so pretty when you’re like this for me.” He groaned as he pinched her clit. This earned a loud moan from her, her tail thudding against the ground next to her. She had forgotten all about that thing.

Finally, his long finger found its way inside her, now curling up to find the perfect spot. As he did this his mouth came to meet her neck, now kisses and licking but not daring to leave a mark. He knew better, but oh did he want to do it so bad. He continued to curl into her at a slow pace, drawing moans and pants from her. Y/N was at her breaking point, her head falling back from the stimulation. “Can I add one more Pänutìng?” She didn’t even hear him, too lost in her own pleasure. Neteyam took this as a yes, plunging another one of his fingers into her cunt. She let out another loud moan, and this time Neteyams hand came up to cover her mouth. Her loud noises were going to get them into trouble, and Neteyam couldn’t have that. “Shhh Pänutìng..we’ll get caught.” She only hummed in response, her eyes shutting as her clit began to throb. “I can feel you tightening around my fingers love.” He said as he placed a gentle kiss to her neck. “You can cum for me, it’s okay.” He spoke before finally that familiar feeling of an orgasm washed over her. Her clit throbbed, her walls tightening around his fingers as she squeezed at his bicep. “M’Teyam” Her moan was muffled by his hand, though he knew exactly what she said. Hearing her moan his name almost made him cum right then and there. This however was merely for her pleasure. And a one time thing. He couldn’t do it again. He knew better than that. Slowly he pulled his fingers from her core, the sticky juices she released now coating his fingers. He licked the mess away, the taste of her almost making him go in for more. However, they needed rest. She gave the side of her thigh a light pat and her neck one last kiss before standing up. “Get some rest now. We’ll be busy tomorrow.” Y/N only watched him as he returned to his own cot. God she wanted him so bad. She knew he was holding back, but it was only making her want him more. As he laid down on his cot and turned to face opposite to her, he said one last thing.

“Goodnight Pänutìng.”

#neteyam #neteyam smut #slow burn #Neteyam x reader #Neteyam x reader smut #atwow #atwow smut #avatar smut #x reader