#frozen smut: emerald | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

darlingdekarios · 1 year

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hibernate.

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 6,152 content: Arthur Morgan x f!reader, animal hunting mentions, cannon-accurate outlaw behavior, cowboy meet cute, Arthur Morgan is a simp, snowed in, fluff, smut [v fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, cockwarming], kink(s) [spit as lube]

it was like fate insisted on the two of you colliding.

The first time you’d met Arthur Morgan was a lovely March night in New Hanover, opportunities abound as the hustle and bustle of life was at its highest point of the year, the weather the most tolerable for moving about. Returning from an evening of fishing now that the water wasn’t frozen in some areas and sketching birds by the river when he stumbled across a lone figure boarding train – well after midnight. He followed on horseback under the cover of trees in anticipation, joined by your own horse shortly after. He followed alongside with a hold of the strange horse’s reins until the train came to a stop.

He'd strained to hear you, considered boarding after you to clean up any straggling guards – it wasn’t his business, so he didn’t – but curiosity held him close. When the sound of police approaching quickly began you emerged to the top of the train, looking around desperately for your horse. Temporarily frozen when the moonlight caught your face and confirmed to the man that you were a woman, he recovered just in time to spring into action.

It had been Arthur who had led your horse to you and instructed you to follow. It was Arthur’s path that led you away from the law and eventually far enough away to be free of their hunting.

“Are you some kinda lunatic, lady?” he questioned when the two of you slowed side-by-side under the cover of thick trees, his face hard-set and stern. “You coulda gotten yourself tossed away for a long time back there.”

“I didn’t, though,” you laughed, and despite the feeling that burned in him that he couldn’t quite place as anger or worry Arthur’s stomach flipped at the sound and the way your laugh reached your eyes. You adjusted your hat with a playful smile on your lips, keeping the reins to your horse in one hand.

“Thanks to me,” he asserted, the stress causing him to light up a cigarette and adjust his hat. His eyes caught your gaze and you held it, appreciating his handsome features for a moment as your smile twisted wider.

“I would’ve figured it out, cowboy – you can be sure of that.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’ve seen your face on ‘wanted’ posters, Mr. Morgan,” you proclaimed, tone proud as you called him on his identity. He took another drag from his cigarette before leaning forward comfortably in his saddle, outstretching a hand toward you.

“Arthur,” he offered, amusement flashing across his features when you shook his hand firmly. “And I’ve seen yours, too. What is it they call you…?”

“The Panther,” you replied, that proud tone ever-present in your voice. “A nice tribute to my best hunt.”

His poker face was too well-trained to reveal that he was impressed – that he was intrigued.

“Well next time you go thinkin’ of doing something so goddamn stupid like rob a train at midnight alone,” he began, gruff voice filled with frustration as he attempted to present his unamused façade. “You could invoke that particular nickname and be a little more subtle.”

The second time was just as circumstantial. It was July – the heat sweltering, the air sticky, the fireflies sparkling in fields at night. You’d been riding for days, hunting gators in the swamps for weeks and now headed back to a more familiar area where you felt more at home. Just past Emerald Ranch you’d spotted him on the road ahead – his hat unmistakable and burned into your mind, his horse giving away his identity to anyone who knew it.

There was no questioning if he’d want your company – you didn’t even give it a thought. Instead, you’d hastened your own horse to catch up with him.

“Where ya headed, cowboy?” you questioned as you approached from behind, adjusting your hat back on your head to offer more of your face to him. Your voice immediately sent a shiver down his spine, the barely-there smile crossing his features unmissed by you.

Four months trying to remember your face and voice hadn’t done it any justice.

“Valentine,” he replied, slowing his horse’s stride to match yours. The two of you set a lazy pace, in no real hurry to get anywhere. “You following me now, cat?”

“Like I ain’t got better things to do, Mr. Morgan?” you joked, nose scrunching as you smiled. The Summer sun had done beautiful things for your color, he noted. “Give you $50 and shine your guns if you can beat me there.”

“Are you tryin’ to race me?” he questioned with a subtle laugh, raising an eyebrow in your direction.

“Won’t be much of a race, cowboy.”

He let out a real, genuine, albeit short laugh at that. The sound filled the air around you, made birds vacate trees. Your heart soared away alongside them.

“And what is it you want if you win?”

“A nice bottle of whisky,” you replied after a brief moment of thought, reaching your hand to rub your horse’s neck gently. Arthur had forgotten how gentle your hands were with everything they touched – the rediscovery lighting up his mind. “And a hot meal at your camp.”

“Can’t promise the gang’ll let you eat at camp without drinking, too.”

“Which is why I asked for a bottle of whisky,” you remarked, that shit-eating grin he was starting to love spreading on your face again. “Do we have a deal?”

“Hope your horse is fast enough to back up that mouth of yours,” he quipped back, intentionally antagonizing you as he started to pick up the speed slightly. “Or that you’ve got plenty of gun oil.”

You shot forward then, the dust of the road kicking up behind you as you left Arthur behind on a road you both knew well. In reality he could’ve caught you – could’ve even won if he’d pushed his horse hard enough – but the sound of your laughter in the cool evening air was reason enough to lose.

It wasn’t a surprise when you crossed over into the town first.

“You cheated,” he argued as he approached, allowing his horse to slow to a reasonable speed for being around other people. “Got a head start. Doesn’t count.”

“You’re just a sore loser.”

“Maybe I am,” he replied, reaching up to remove his hat to resituate his wind-blown hair. You were momentarily transfixed on his fingers running through the strands that looked soft – maybe in need of a wash but soft nonetheless – but quickly wished he’d left it messy. “Weren’t mean you didn’t get a head start, cat.”

“Oh, like a couple steps mattered,” you entered an easy banter with him, just like the two of you had done in the Spring. He’d missed it – hadn’t realized how much he had until then. “Coulda given you a five-minute head start and still would’ve beat you and that slowpoke horse you ride.”

“Anybody ever tell you you’re difficult?”

“Heard it a couple times,” there was that smile again – the nose crinkling one. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep his thoughts to himself with you smiling that way – at him. You jumped down from your stallion and hitched him with ease, feeding the massive animal a small snack in appreciation of his efforts. “I can compromise. I buy the whisky, but I still get a hot meal at your camp.”

He pondered your proposal only briefly before nodding, letting out an affirmative huff in agreeance. “I’ll meet you at the butcher when you’re done.”

You gave your horse a gentle pat and nodded, turning back to meet his gaze. “Sell that fox pelt I have up on Scratch, will ya?”

Easy. Simple. Honest. Sensible. Arthur loved having you around camp that night – and the night after when you’d been convinced to stay again by the women – though it was hardly just them that enjoyed your company. You’d made easy companions in the camp with your sharp tongue and ability to hold your alcohol. You had plenty of stories to share with Arthur’s chosen family – each one of them genuinely interesting to the gang.

Everyone knew the fact Arthur had brought you around meant you were a good person. The beauty was a bonus, he’d been informed in privacy. He’d only told Sean to shut his mouth in response. Arthur slept by the fire that night so you could sleep in his cot, and if anyone else in the gang saw the way he’d sat up for at least an hour with his eyes transfixed on your sleeping figure in his bed.

It was Fall, October to be exact, the next time he heard from you – this time you had taken fate into your own hands to seek out his company. He was certain he’d never be able to dispose the letter you’d penned and sent to his camp.

Dear Arthur, Kinda strange to call you “dear”, huh? Anyway, I have a job comin’ up in Saint Denis that involves me boarding a train quite late at night and remembering our conversation earlier this year I thought I may ask you to join. Job is planned for the night of October 18, the Saturday after next. I’ll meet you the Friday before at the saloon in Van Horn if you plan on joining me. I do hope you join me. Hope that gang of yours isn’t being too rough on you.

He arrived in Van Horn a day early and rented himself a room – and a bath – so he was prepared for the meeting. He was in the saloon before you, his chest clenching as you walked in through the swinging doors.

You’d taken a page from his book and clearly bathed recently as well, and you were dressed for the first time in front of him in feminine attire. The sight of you in a skirt shouldn’t have affected him the way it did – it was embarrassing for a man his age. It didn’t prevent the pressure building at his waist, nor did it stop him from speaking his mind.

“You had to wear that damn skirt, didn’t ya?” he questioned when you joined him, a smile spreading across your face. It was hardly a gentlemanly way to greet you, but then again, he was hardly a gentleman. “Knew what you were doin’ puttin’ that on with me coming in today…”

“You complained so much about the pants last time I figured I’d save myself the headache,” you replied, sliding into a chair next to him and crossing your legs for emphasis. “You don’t like it?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, kitten,” he’d practically purred – a new tone between the two of you. There was no denying that you wanted to hear it more, and you nearly chose to forget the real reason you were now sitting beside him.

“I need to look the part tomorrow for the job,” you replied quickly, eager to squash the tension now building between the two of you, unwilling to allow the job to go forgotten. There was too much money at stake. “Have to board a real nice train when it leaves out of Saint Denis tomorrow night. There’s a safe onboard I’d like to get my hands into.”

“Can’t just rob it the old-fashioned way?”

“Someone didn’t like the last time I did that,” you teased, feeling pleased with the smile it earned. “Figured I’d board and crack the safe.”

“Why you need me then?”

“Need someone to play my husband and keep watch while I’m workin’ on the safe.”

“Your husband,” he huffed out with another laugh, a brief shake to his head. The term had always been silly to him, just as silly as the idea of marriage was to you as a whole, really – and yet, there was no denying the clench in both of your chests at the mere thought. The imaginary suggestion manifested in brief images of domesticity, the vision of you sleeping in his cot in July flashing in his mind.

You didn’t miss the slight redness to his cheeks, he didn’t miss how your smile fluttered into something laced with affection. For all your joking demeanor, it was still clear that there was some secretive sincerity beneath the surface – that you cared for Arthur. And on Arthur’s part, well…he wouldn’t ride across the country to work for just anyone.

“Yes,” you replied when you’d pulled yourself from the depths of his eyes. “A woman travelling with her husband is far less likely to draw attention than if I were alone.”

You thought there would be some protest, though if you’d seen even a fraction of the thoughts Arthur had conjured up in the preceding months you’d never have to question it. To you what seemed to be him conceding was actually the outlaw taking a step he’d long considered taking with you the next chance he got.

Arthur just wanted to spend time with you – there were probably very few things he’d say no to right now in regard to you. He wouldn’t go admitting that out loud anytime soon either.

“Fine, I’ll go along with your little plan. Only so you don’t go gettin’ yourself arrested.”

“Great!” you exclaimed, the brightness that covered your face blinding but serving as confirmation that he was making the right choice. The money he was sure to get would be a bonus, too. “I got you a wedding ring. Looks like it’ll fit. You can sell it when the job’s done, as a thank you.”

“You get it off a dead body?”

“He didn’t need it anymore.”

There was that goddamn feeling in his chest again.

This was the fourth time destiny had crossed your path with Arthur Morgan’s.

Now, the ring still lay in the outside pouch of his satchel, the cool metal brushing against the tips of his calloused fingers often daily in a physical reminder of you. Today, feeling the pull of being apart from you for four months now and into the new year, he’d been clutching the metal in his gloved hands as he led his horse through the far North. Seeking the solitary bliss of being alone in the mountains for the winter, he had opted to simply ride and camp, sketching in his journal and enjoying the snow dusted scenery. Arthur’s plan was soon thwarted as a snowstorm began to roll in.

He'd been riding along the same worn path to make his way down the mountain when he noticed horse tracks leading into the thick forest – a horse, by the look of it, with no reemergence to be seen. Opting to do the honorable thing, Arthur pursued the trail, weaving through trees atop his own horse until he came to a small clearing where you were setting predator bait.

He didn’t know the kind of words to describe the way he felt seeing you right in front of him.

“Are you some kinda lunatic, cat?”

If he had a way with words, he’d tell you that your smile was brighter than the sun itself – fleeting shooting stars, the North Star when he’s lost.

“That’s not the first time you’ve asked me that question, Mister Morgan,” you replied, standing up and patting your horse as your gaze remained transfixed on him now. Even at this distance you could see the blue in his coat had electrified his eyes, the tone a perfect match for the world around you. You found it hard to form any further rebuttal.

“Won’t be the last either, given you’re doing something fucking crazy every time I see you,” he teased, finally giving into the natural ease he felt with you. The light air between the two of you had finally lulled him into a sense of comfort around you – he was willing to admit he was concerned, in his own way. “There’s a storm rollin’ in. You trying to freeze to death?”

“Trying to hunt a white wolf,” you replied, glancing back at the bait you’d just set and adjusting the bow you held in your hands, an arrow already grasped between two fingers.

Fuckin’ hell, Arthur thought. ‘Course that’s what you’re out here doing.

“You ain’t gonna be hunting much of anything when you turn into an icicle,” he replied, hopeful that you would understand his taunting was coming from a place of concern – not control. “You got Scratch nearby?”

“I suppose you’re right,” you smiled, slipping the arrow back into the quiver on your back and whistling to call your horse back to you. You mounted up on the animal easily, Arthur taking the moment to appreciate how languid your movements were – how graceful. His eyes lingered at your waist for a moment longer than was decent.

“If I remember right there’s a cabin just up the road. Been empty the last few times I rode by,” he explained, his words offering more than just a place to shield from the freeze.

Arthur wanted to spend time with you. You’d truly have to be a lunatic to think otherwise.

“Lead the way, cowboy.”

The snow picked up as the two of you rode side-by-side, both of your horses slowing as the powder piled up, creating heavier footsteps. While Arthur spoke to his horse beside you to soothe her through the storm, you could feel his eyes consistently on you despite the painful whip of flakes against his unshielded cheeks.

What could have been a short ride in the summer extended in the weather, and by the time the cabin approached view you had begun to shiver – something Arthur took note of. When he climbed from his horse he unrolled the blanket on the back of his saddle, passing it up to you before grabbing his shotgun.

“I’ll check inside, you try not to shiver s’much you fall off your horse.”

He disappeared into the cabin, your mind focusing on the sounds of him moving about rather the piling snow that was sure to trap you for days. Keeping yourself wrapped in his blanket provided the additional comfort of his lingering scent, and you found yourself clutching the fabric tighter and tighter as the moments passed.

“This’ll be fine ‘til the storm’s passed,” he announced as he exited through the doors, voice raised so you could hear him over the wind. “You go on in while I get some firewood and hitch the horses.”

“I can help, you know,” you offered, eyebrows pulling together to communicate your frustration.

“Would you stop your arguing for once and go inside out of this shit?”

By the time Arthur made his way in from the storm you’d used what wood remained in the cabin to start a fire, the flames warming the air around it quickly. The mattress was considerably dirty and out of the question, so you were validated in the decision to carry in your bedrolls and blankets, having set them up comfortably in front of the fire.

His heavy boots sounded on the floor as he approached where you sat on the floor from behind, and while you couldn’t see him, you could feel his eyes on you.

“Already got a fire going?”

“Uh huh,” you replied, noting the subtle shake to his voice. Arthur was strong, but he was human, and he was cold. The fact that he not only was willing to but insisted on suffering for you caused a knot to form in your stomach. “Got some whisky if you need help warming up.”

He simply grunted affirmatively in reply, setting the stack of wood carefully to the side and picking out the driest pieces to tend the fire with now. You tempted to hand the bottle out to him, the liquid going ignored as he began to peel off layer by layer, tossing the soaked clothing to the side lazily with little regard for how they ended up. Normally you’d have stood to hang the clothes, but you found yourself spellbound by the way Arthur’s muscles flexed with each movement under the simple wet damp button up shirt – the last remaining layer.

When he was somewhat comfortable, he turned to face you, eyes flashing with amusement as he took the bottle from your fingers. You were certain your mouth was hanging open and he’d caught you. At the moment, you could hardly bring yourself to care.

Hours passed as the two of you got warm and caught up over the last few weeks. You sat opposite one another, both wrapped in your own blankets and full of enough whisky to ignore the storm outside – to ignore everything but one another. Arthur hadn’t missed that most of your clothes lie neatly folded atop the countertop. The thought was repeating in his mind – the heavy question of what exactly remained under the blanket haunting him.

He couldn’t be blamed for not being a good listener.

“Arthur, are you even listenin’ to me?”

“Not a fuckin’ word,” he replied with one more small swig of whisky from the bottle, setting it well out of the way to the side. “Stop fuckin’ doin’ that if you want me to listen.”

“Doing what?”

You knew damn well what.

“Lookin’ at me like you want me to come crawl on top of you.”

Why on Earth would you ever stop doing that?

“No.”

Your mouth was going to drive him to insanity one day. He wasn’t going to do a single thing about it.

“Did you just tell me ‘No’?”

“Yeah, Arthur, I surely did,” you replied, quick and agile as you were on your feet. He was beginning to think you may only talk to hm this way, and that thought alone was enough to make him want to reach out to you. “Hoping you take the hint.”

The blanket he’d been using for himself was discarded to the side, your words finally snapping the thin thread of control that remained in him. He extended one arm outward toward the floor to support himself, outstretching his legs to be situated in a more comfortable position before his eyes found yours again.

“Come on over here,” his invitation came thick as molasses and dripping just as sweet, his free hand patting his right thigh to give his words deeper meaning. “Bring the blanket.”

Arthur had finally figured out how to get you to stop arguing and basked in the glory of the moment as you crawled to him carefully, finding a comfortable seat in his lap as you straddled his thighs. He savored the view as you wrapped your arms around his neck, encompassing you both with the blanket, your face illuminated by the golden glow of the well-tended fire – beautiful, warm, inviting.

He was more than happy to finally accept.

“Are you gonna kiss me, Arthur?”

He knew you were trying to sound resolute as you always did – firm and demanding and impossible to deny. While those things lingered – he doubted they could ever truly be gone from you – what really laced your words was the quietest of whines. He sat up fully, bringing his torso closer to yours and grasping your hips in both hands, all the while your heart beating faster and faster in anticipation.

When you opened your mouth to let your protest be known again, he took his opportunity to claim your lips in a long-awaited kiss, the feeling of his lips caressing yours sucking the air from your chest immediately. He opted to slide his hands to your lower back to bring you in closer, pressing your chests together as he kissed you hungrily. Touch starved and overwhelmed by the feeling of you returning his kiss with soft lips he sought more of your skin, sliding his hands up the back of the loose blouse you remained in.

“Clothes are still wet,” he grumbled against your lips, displeased by the cool touch to your skin that remained. You scrambled to reinitiate the kiss, your lips catching his bottom lip as a whine slipped through your lips. A quiet chuckle rumbled through his chest as he nuzzled your cheek with his nose.

“Take them off, then,” you breathed out, bowing your head to press a delicate kiss to his neck. His own breath caught, arms wrapping tighter around you – almost too tight, almost too crushing. You made no move to stop him as you began to test the best places to leave your kisses, spurring him to release his hold on you to start peeling the last layers from both of you.

Your lips brushed against the shell of his ear when all that remained were intimate coverings, a shaky groan rolling through his chest. His hands engulfed you, sliding up your torso until he cupped your breasts, dipping his head to claim your lips again.

That kiss was hungry – starved – clumsy in ways that screamed of desperation. His thumbs rubbed over your nipples lightly, a smile evident on his lips despite the fact he continued to kiss you as a moan slipped from your throat. It spiraled from there, both of your hands exploring, your fingers the best thing he’d felt against his skin in a long time. As the pressure built heavier at your waist his hands trailed lower, one stopping to grasp your waist, the other slipping into the waistband of your underwear.

He'd never heard music that sounded as good as the sound of the moan that left you as his thick fingers swiped through your wet folds, an appreciative hum shaking in his throat as you burrowed your face in his neck.

“You’re already soaked for me, darlin’,” he rasped, his voice getting lower and lower with each word. He began to sink his index finger into you, grasping your hip tighter in his other hand. “Fuckin’ tight, too. Hell.”

“Arthur…”

“Aw, hush,” he cooed, turning his head to press a kiss to your temple as he curled his finger inside you, pulling a quiet whimper from you. “No point tryin’ to talk right now, darlin’ – just lemme take care of ya.”

He could take his sweet time, Arthur Morgan. He was a patient man, especially when it came to you, and never more-so than now as he began to work his finger in and out of your clenching heat. He added a second finger soon, pressing the heel of his hand to your clit to give you more pressure, which you gladly accepted by rocking your hips into it.

As he pumped his fingers into you he began to trail kisses lower, the kisses growing heavier and wetter the further down he went. By the time he nipped at your hip with his teeth lightly you were breathless, eyes squeezed shut as you lost yourself to pleasure. He kissed across your waistline as he pulled your underwear down, smiling against your skin lightly when you kicked them free with frustrated fervor.

Nothing up to this point compared to the feeling of Arthur sliding his tongue from his fingers to your clit, giving the sensitive bundle of nerves a soft suck. He repeated the motion as you struggled to even moan, your hands grasping at the blankets now on the floor beneath you as you tried to rock your hips into his face desperately.

“Easy, now,” Arthur reprimanded with quiet reverence behind his words, turning his head to press a kiss to your inner thigh softly. “I’m takin’ my time with you, don’t rush me.”

You finally opened your eyes, ready to give him an earful about being a tease, only to be frozen once again faced with the sight of Arthur, golden illuminated by the fire and somehow still wearing his hat tipped back on his head. You maintained eye contact with him as you reached forward with your hands, removing the hat with one hand and placing it on your own head as your fingers ran through his hair, giving a soft tug at the end.

The growl vibrated through him and you as he connected his lips to your clit, pumping his fingers into you and connecting the tips, curling them skillfully to rub against the sensitive patch deep within you as he sucked your clit. All the while he maintained eye contact, even when he removed his mouth from you with one final flick of his tongue, just as he removed his fingers from you.

“Arthur…” you whimpered in protest, tugging his hair again to try to bring him back to your needy core.

“Hush,” he instructed tenderly, slipping his hands under your ass and grasping firmly to lift your waist from the floor. He soaked in the view of your glistening folds at this angle and tested how it looked to watch one of his fingers slip into you before removing it, licking his lips again. “You are a pretty little thing, ain’t ya?”

Your reply was sucked from your chest and altered into a cry of pleasure as he spit on your folds, smearing the liquid around before connecting his thumb to your clit, rubbing a figure eight. Supporting your raised hips still with one hand he continued to rub your clit, now using his tongue to fuck into you rather than his fingers, tasting you how he’d wanted to for nearly a year now.

The pressure continued to build and boil, eventually reaching a point of eruption – all the usual signs there with your shaking thighs, shorter and desperate breaths, your nails scratching against his temple as you gripped whatever you could. Arthur figured it was a previously unknown bonus to him keeping his hair a little on the longer side. He groaned to encourage you, switching his movements to pump his fingers into you again, circling your clit with his tongue until you became incendiary, your first orgasm washing through you with white hot heat.

He continued to lap at your folds as you came, removing his tongue from you occasionally only to kiss your thighs and mutter tender praises as you came back down to your body. When you had some sense about yourself, he was crawling back up you, pressing kisses to your stomach and breasts before he reached your lips, offering you a taste of your own honey sweet pleasure on his tongue.

When the adoration filled amorous kiss ended so Arthur could breathe you began to trail kisses down his neck again, following a trail to his chest before his index finger caught under your chin, lifting you back up to him, cerulean eyes questioning.

“Your turn,” you offered, slipping one of your hands into the waistband of his underwear and wrapping your fingers around his throbbing cock slowly. Running your finger over the velvet head you smeared the pre-spend leaking already, biting at your swollen bottom lip when he moaned.

“Not tonight, sweet thing,” he declined, his hesitation clear in his voice. You began to rub him gently – slowly – too damn slow – causing his eyes to roll back briefly. “You wrap these lips around me, and I won’t last long enough t’ fuck you.”

“Please.”

You didn’t truly know what you were begging for – for him to test himself and allow you to take his already throbbing cock into your mouth or for him to follow through on that promise to fuck you. Luckily, Arthur seemed to know exactly what your words were asking for – what you needed.

He reached to remove your hand from his cock gently, freeing himself of his underwear before he gently moved you to your side, lying beside you with his back to the fire to shield you from getting too much heat, to ensure you didn’t get hurt. One arm wrapped around your waist while the other slid to cup your cheek in his hand, bringing you in closer to him as he kissed you again.

As much fun as he’d been having teasing, he was done with the games now, and could no longer find the patience. He reached to lift your leg around his waist before grasping his cock, rubbing against your still-soaked entrance for a moment to gather some lubrication before he sank into you. Inch by inch disappeared into your velvet channel, the kiss practically halting as you gasped. He leaned his forehead against yours instead, grasping your waist gently as he continued to slip into you.

“Atta fuckin’ girl,” he breathed out. The large hand that still cupped your cheek slipped downward to rest against your neck instead, his fingertips digging into your skin in attempt to steady himself, to savor your pulse beneath his touch. “Takin’ me so good. You doin’ okay?”

You nodded as you stared into his eyes, pupils blown wide and mouth hanging open already at the feeling of him stretching you, almost too full but not something you’d be willing to give up anytime soon. When he’d fully seated himself within you, his cock buried to the hilt he released a shaky groan of his own, his eyes briefly closing as he savored the feeling of being wrapped up in you.

“Goddamn you’re tight,” he groaned out, pressing several light kisses to your lips before grinding his hips into yours slightly. “Shoulda crawled ‘tween your legs months ago.”

“Would…ah…woulda let you,” you managed to reply, pressing your lips to his in an unabashedly salacious kiss, already perfecting how to slot your lips against his in a way that left him craving more. He couldn’t hold back his movements any longer and began to pump into you repeatedly, setting a wanton and quick pace that somehow managed to remain tender and reverent.

He could only be tender for so long, desperation and months of waiting and yearning building in him. His movements began to get sloppy sooner than he’d have liked, though he felt better when your walls began to flutter and clench around him, your thigh shaking around his hip slightly. He picked up his pace to a much more relentless one, driving his cock into you and into your spongy cervix repeatedly as his grunts became more frequent, pressing kisses to your neck now.

“Want you to finish while I’m inside you,” he instructed, though there was something so subtly desperate behind his words – a quiet beg that only someone who knew him would recognize. “Think you can do that for me, darlin’?”

You nodded before leaning your head back again, quiet cries leaving your lips as he connected his thumb to your clit again, immediately choosing a relentless pace to rub in circles. You were almost certain you’d do anything he asked and soon enough you were pushed over the edge again, your walls clenching him so tight he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to remove himself. He did his best to continue pumping into you roughly now as he sought his own release, certain you wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow. Like you’d need to, anyway.

“F-fill me up, Arthur,” you begged unexpectedly through your euphoria, and he didn’t need anything else to convince him. With only a few more bruising thrusts he stilled inside you as he emptied his seed in hot ropes into you, groaning loudly as he lazily leaned his forehead to yours again, his own eyes screwed shut.

He didn’t remove himself from you when you’d both ridden your orgasms, instead holding you close and reaching to cover the two of you in one of the blankets that was on the floor. He wrapped his arms around you tightly to hold you closer to him, slipping one of his legs between yours for additional comfort and warmth. Still semi-hard with plenty of stamina to offer you couldn’t ignore the feeling of him seated in you still, buried as deep as possible as he brushed his nose against yours.

“Be a whole lot warmer this way,” he offered, giving a subtle move of his hips to emphasize the meaning behind his words. He pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose before reaching upward to kiss your forehead, leaving his lips resting there. He was right – you did finally feel warm.

“Mm,” was all you could reply, laying your head against his shoulders and closing your eyes, burrowing your face into his neck. He smiled as you managed to press lazy kisses into his neck before wrapping your arms around him as well.

“Think I’ll keep you here all winter,” he offered after several blissful moments, his head leaning to rest on the top of yours as his own eyes closed. He pressed one final kiss to your temple before succumbing to the comfort of you fully.

“Always knew you were a big teddy bear, Arthur,” you teased. How you managed to run your mouth still after he’d fucked you right was beyond him – but it was also probably a reason he’d want to keep fucking you.

“We’ll call it hibernation, then.”

masterlist. red dead redemption masterlist.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan smut #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 smut

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seattlesellie · 11 months

Text

not about love ♡ (part two)

ೃ⁀➷ read part 1 here | part 3 | part 4

pairing: college!ellie williams x fem!reader

synopsis: ellie and you are practically best friends, and what is a friendship without underlying romantic feelings, unclear boundaries and a very, harsh state of constant denial?

warnings: ellie’s mean in order to cope with her feelings, shes also a loser, sexual tension, smut, masturbation (e!)

“What are you doing?”

Fuck. your heart practically just leapt out of your chest. You dropped Ellie’s phone onto the ground, where it landed with a muffled thud. You looked like a deer caught in headlights.

In a flurry of quick movements, both Ellie and you instinctively reached down to grab the fallen phone. Your hands darted toward it, but Ellie's reflexes proved quicker as she snatched the device before your fingertips could even make contact.

Come up with an excuse. Now. You weren’t looking, you didn’t see. Your finger slipped, you had something in your eye, some fine dust, blurring your vision. You didn’t see anything. Tell her, quick.

Ellie unlocked the screen swifter than a startled cat. Fucking face ID. She froze, a soft, involuntary gasp leaving her throat. She thought she had imagined, for sure. It couldn’t be, her dirty little secret, exposed. It’s like that time Joel caught her searching up “Girls kissing” on YouTube when she was just a scrawny, slightly awkward thirteen year old. She remembered how her breath hitched. How her fingertips felt like they were melting. How he told her that it’s okay, that kids get curious sometimes, that she shouldn’t feel ashamed of herself. She remembered how hot she felt in the face, how she sniffled like an idiot in front of the the bathroom mirror. There it was again. Shame, and embarrassment, and… Anger. Her fists clenched tightly. She was speechless. And she was pissed.

You sat there in stunned silence for what felt like an eternity, a vacant pause stretching out for a seemingly endless five seconds before you spoke.

“I didn’t… I… didn’t see — It’s, Finger slipped and…” You were babbling frantically. Good job for coming up with an incredible excuse. Didn’t see, finger slipped.

Ellie was stood frozen in front you, cheeks as red as a plump, Pinklady apple that laid in the sun for a tad too long. You took pride in yourself for always knowing what Ellie was thinking. When she was sad, you knew. When Ellie was stressed, you could feel it in your bones. It was like a sixth sense. To you, her face was an open book, her emotions unabashedly revealed through every flicker of expression. Your senses weren’t kicking in at this moment. Was it her? Or was it you?

“Why…. Why were you going through my pictures?” Ellie's voice quivered.

Even as she questioned, she did not meet your panicked gaze for a second. Her throat was dry, and she felt like swallowing her entire fist. Why did she let you even come here? You, and your stupid games, your distractions, the way you make her feel, the way she wanted to rip her heart out of her chest and hand it over to you, there, it’s yours, take it. Be mine. She shouldn’t have let you come, but she did. She always did, and now, she really fucking shouldn’t have.

“I was just… On there, Ellie, I didn’t see, I just opened and closed it, It’s nothing just…” your voice was shaky. You always were, and always will be, such a bad fucking liar. Especially with her.

“It’s for your birthday” Ellie blurted out, hastily tucking the phone into her pocket. Her emerald eyes briefly met yours, but she swiftly averted her gaze, fixating on the black Converse shoes adorning her feet. If you thought you were a terrible liar, god knows Ellie was worse. She wished she could claw her short fingernails into her calloused palms. You did good, she thought. Good fucking save. She cleared her throat, and burned her gaze through you. People who lie don’t make eye contact. There you go, Ellie. Genius move.

“My birthday?” you questioned, toying with the soft flannel material adorning the bed beneath you. You definitely just saw a piece of dust and had to remove it. you definitely weren’t fidgeting, not at all.

“Yeah… Just something Dina really wanted me to do…” she huffed, a hint of exasperation lacing her words.

“Like, collect pics of you and put them on a canvas and shit… I don’t know” She shrugged. Good fucking save.

You chose to believe. oh, you.

“Oh… I’m sorry for ruining that” you mumbled quietly.

The fast thumps of her heart slowed, like when she told Joel someone got on her computer and searched up those words. Wasn’t her, never her. You’re so naive!

“It’s chill” she sniffed, her body slightly relaxing. She sat back down on the rolling chair, and tried to go back to her studies. She felt her back sweating through the thick material of her hoodie. It’s chill. She quickly spun to face you. The wires of her brain connected again.

“By the way… uh… That pic of you sleeping? Took it because I thought you looked dumb” She laughed dryly. Fuck, it was so fucking awkward.

You bit down a soft pout.

There you fucking go again, with those sad looks you give her, the ones who make her throat go drier than the Sahara desert and her heart clench. The same expression she imagines when she… fuck. She felt so stupid.

“Oh… Cool” you muttered. Cool?

“Yeah… looked like fucking Snorlax over there… Had to do it, y’know?”

It’s like the shitshow was never ending. What is she going to do next? Call you a stupid bitch? Punch you in the face? Her teacher once told her that kid’s are mean when they like someone. But she wasn’t a fucking kid, she was twenty years old.

“Yeah..." you forced a giggle, nervously biting your nail.

Ellie lowered her gaze to the ground and clicked her pen obnoxiously. She was always one to fidget when she had to distract herself from something, But you weren’t just something. you weren’t just someone. Ellie felt a droplet of sweat dripping, and itching the back of her ear. She really had to fucking go, or you have to fucking leave.

“I gotta go” you muttered, giving Ellie a polite smile.

Thank fuck.

If you stayed there for a second longer, your faucet would start leaking. It wouldn’t have been the first time you would have burst into tears in her room, either. The lump in your throat was growing bigger and bigger, painfully tugging at you.

“Where?” She questioned. Be cool, Ellie. You don’t care. Hide it, burry it.

“Uh — Project” you muttered. You swiftly grabbed your purse and dorm keys that laid on the wooden table. That purse had it’s own story to tell. Ellie and you bickered about it once. She couldn’t understand why you insisted on bringing that useless thing with you every damn day, it was college, not a nightclub. “What the fuck do you even put in there — Oh fuck… thats fucking heavy.” “I’ll carry it for you, you’re too weak n’shit”

Oh how utterly ridiculous Ellie looked holding the studded bag, contrasting her red flannel and ripped baggy jeans. She couldn’t have cares less - She was holding your purse, she was doing it for you, and for a second, just a little one, she almost felt like your girlfriend.

“Okay” she mumbled.

You stood there staring for a second too long.

“See ya…. Bro”

Fuck did you just say?

“The fuck did you just say?” Ellie spat. she looked, amused?

“I said I’ll see ya” you said softly.

You didn’t even know where that came out of. Revenge? What a stupid fucking way of doing that. You felt embarrassed with yourself. The word felt so… silly leaving your mouth.

You nervously toyed with the fabric of your skirt. If only you could drill a hole into the ground, jump inside and live there forever.

“Did you just call me bro?”

Ellie huffed, a cocky smile resting on her lips. There she was again, old cocky Ellie. It only took one thing for you to say. Funny how she got like this just right before you planned on leaving. She was a coward, and a tease, and a fucking loser.

“You call me that all the time.” you stated, that damn pout she wanted to knock out of you laying on your lips.

“S’annoying” you mumbled under your breath.

You truly were ready to leave. Were you a coward too? did the unspoken, undeniable tension in the room pump through your veins as much as it pumped through hers?

“I call everybody bro, Dina, Jesse, everybody. You’re pretty much the only one who thinks its annoying” Ellie said, spreading her legs slightly. God, would she stop that? Your face was getting warm.

“I’m not everybody”

Direct.

The room fell quiet.

Ellie’s heart was beating like a hammer through her chest. Her gaze, serious for once, burned through you. She stood up, the chair creaking at the sudden movement.

You gulped.

You could hear her heavy breaths infiltrating your already hazy mind.

“No you’re not” Her voice was raspy, almost as quiet as a whisper.

She looked you up and down. Animal and her prey. Her palms were sweating.

You swiftly opened the door, and left.

♡

“Fucking fucking shit — fucking shit” Ellie was panting. What the fuck was that. Was she delirious again? Did she take something? Did you lace her fucking weed? She kicked the small dinosaur lego with her foot.

She was throwing a fucking tantrum. It lasted for and hour and a half, before she came down from it, her brain feeling sore and the vein on her forehead pulsing.

“FUCKING HATE HER” she wrote down on her journal until the pen left a hole through the page.

When Ellie closed her eyes, no earlier than 3AM, she felt sick to her stomach. She felt like punching herself in the face.

She fumbles, on and on and on.

When Ellie’s mind started to race with pictures of you, her hand started to wander too. It was impulsive, and perverted, and it happened every night.

Her veiny hand was working like a clock. Harsh circles abusing her clit. It was almost painful. Almost. And it felt so fucking good, too.

Her phone was in her left hand, a picture of you flashing on the screen. The brightness was turned all the way off. If the brightness was low, maybe it would have been less dirty, she thought. Maybe it could save her.

She pumped her fingers in and out of her wet cunt, hissing and moaning obscenities.

When Ellie almost reached her high, she was whimpering. Whimpering your name.

“Fucking hate you” She hissed.

“Fucking hate that stupid face — Oh shit — Oh fuck”

She was almost there.

Her slick was running down her sweatpants covered thigh. She couldn’t even bother taking them off.

“Fuck you”

She felt herself squeezing around her fingers, tightening up.

Closer.

“Fuck, Slut, Shit - Fuck, I fuck -“

She grunted, fastening her pace.

“I fucking love you - fucking love you” Ellie whimpered frantically as she rode her high.

She was sound asleep twenty seconds later.

#ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams x you #wlw #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #tlou ellie #ellie x you #ellie x yn #lesbian

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whiskeyghoul · 4 months

Text

Green green dress || [Spencer Reid x F!Reader] Pt.1

A/N: watched tick tick boom again and this song has been stuck on repeat in my mind so please enjoy the ramblings of a woman possessed.

Read pt.2 here

Tags: Established relationship, female reader, no y/n, fluff, mentions of smut? more like alluding to smut, BAU reader, tick tick boom reference. MDNI.

Wordcount: 1.4K

Your hands smoothed over the non existent wrinkles of your dress. Dark, emerald green and velvet. It hugged every curve of your body just right, complimenting your natural shape so well. Emily, JJ, and Penelope had convinced you to buy it on one of the few girls days you had together. One where dress shopping was necessary for your evening out in a bar. It had been a risky pick, different from your usual attire and the plunging neckline was something you hadn’t dared to wear before. It was just a bit too out there to be worn casually, so it had hung in your closet, waiting for the perfect opportunity to wear it.

What better opportunity than an end of year party at the Rossi house hold? Where the Christmas lights would still be up, creating the perfect ambiance with the soft music that carried throughout the house. The decadent food, expensive wine, and the perfect atmosphere. With Spencer as your date you were more than excited for the evening.

You picked up the dark plum lipstick that sat on the vanity with your other makeup, applying a quick swipe to your lips and pressing them together. “Are you almost ready?” Spencer called from down the hall. You could hear his footsteps move closer to your shared bedroom in his apartment. He’d given you the space to get ready while he sat and read one of his many books. “Almost, love.” You called back, placing the lipstick back down and fussing with your hair a bit. Trying to get it to fall just right. Perfectly effortless wasn’t as effortless as you had hoped. The door creaked open, Spencer walking in and stopping in his tracks in the door opening.

You turned your head, looking at Spencer who stood frozen in place, hands stilled as he had been fixing his tie. His eyes focussed on you, almost entranced as he took you in. “Spence?” You asked, wondering if you had perhaps gone too out there. Like you had overdressed for some reason. You didn’t think you had. Now, a bit unsure of yourself, you got out of your chair, walking a bit closer. “Wow…” Spencer breathed out. Relief washed over you. “You had me worried for a second.” You admitted, a nervous smile playing on your lips. “Worried? You look stunning. I think you literally took my breath away just now.” Spencer rambled as he finally found his voice again. Eyes lingering on your body, taking you in as you move closer to him. His hands reach out, pulling you towards him by the waist. “I thought I overdressed.” You added, hands landing on his chest and smoothing over his suit jacket until you laced your fingers behind his neck. The hairs in his nape brushing against your skin.

Spencer seemed to think for a moment, “Maybe you did, I think we should just stay home. It would be embarrassing to outshine everyone.” He stated, pulling your body against his. Seemingly completely enthralled by your look. A small laugh escaped you. The underlying motive to his words was clear enough. He’d rather forgo the party if it meant he could be the one taking off your dress right now. “Oh no, I did not take all that time to get ready to not be seen.” You scolded gently, playfully even. “I see you.” Spencer quickly retorted. He leaned in, quickly capturing your lips with his own to stifle any protest you would throw at him. You melted into the kiss, tightening your hands to hold Spencer closer. His hands tightened in the fabric of your dress, causing it to rise slightly exposing more of your stockings.

You pulled away slightly from the kiss, hands moving down to cover Spencer’s. “We’re going to be late.” You whispered, lips ghosting over his lips. He breathed out through his nose, his grip loosening on your dress. “Let's be late for once.” He whispered. His eyes were filled with lust as he looked at you. You trailed your right hand up his arm, to finally reach his face, gently swiping your thumb over his lips to remove the lipstick you had left behind. His lips parted slightly, almost involuntarily before he kissed the pad of your thumb. His eyes are big, looking at you pleadingly. “Please?” he said. It was hard to say no to him, especially when he sounded so sweet. You’d give him anything he wanted if you could.

“I’ll do anything you want when we come home. We can’t miss this one, everyone will be there.” You said, not wanting to give in to his every whim. It was going to be a special evening after all. You didn’t want to miss it. You didn’t want to miss Rossi’s cooking if you were really honest. “Anything?” Spencer raised his brows slightly, you knew there were millions of things running through his head at that moment. “Anything.” You repeated with a grin. He released your dress, seemingly content with your promise of anything he’d desire, just later in the evening.

You quickly leaned up, pecking his lips in a quick kiss. Leaving another dusting of plum lipstick on his lips. “Let’s go, before we’re too late.” you added, turning away from Spencer and leaving the bedroom. His footsteps followed you to the front door, where your heels had been parked and waiting for you. Quickly sliding them on with practiced ease. Spencer held out your coat, ready to slide it on for you like he often does. “I still think we should stay home.” Spencer commented as you moved your arms into the jacket sleeves. He pulled it over your shoulders as you laughed in response to his comment. “We’ll stay home all day tomorrow too. So please, let’s have this dinner.” You said as you took his hand, lacing your fingers together, leading him out the front door and to his car.

Arriving at David’s house went smoothly, you were a bit later than you hoped and saw the multitude of cars already parked in the driveway to the house. Lights lined either way of the walkway up to the house where the deck was lit up with twice as many lights as usual. The smell of pork and greens wafted from the house signaling dinner was being made. You walked up with Spencer, his hand on the small of your back as he guided you to the front door. Before you could even knock the door swung open with David in the opening, welcoming and ushering you inside. “Sorry we’re late.” You apologized, it was only 10 minutes after the agreed upon time but you still felt slightly bad. “Don’t sweat it, I’m sure you had to take some time to get ready. Would you like something to drink?” David immediately offered, guiding you to the living room after you hung your coats away.

Spencer’s hand was back on your waist, holding you closer to him as you walked. It was different. Yes he was often quite touchy with you but this was an unusual amount of affection. The chatter from your colleagues came from the living room, the lights were dimmed to enhance the cozy atmosphere. The two of you entered the room, the warmth inside put a blush on your face. “Finally you’re here!” Penelope exclaimed from her spot next to Derek, getting up and pulling you in for a hug. “You say it like we made you wait an hour.” Spencer chuckled before greeting the others. “It felt like it.” Penelope chided before she finally let you go. “Look at you, in the dress and everything! Gorgeous!" She complimented and took a step back. “You too, Pen. Gorgeous like always.” you smiled as you looked at the quintessential Penelope outfit but dialed up to 11.

David handed you a glass of red wine while informing everyone of how long the wait would be for dinner to be served. Pulled along with Penelope she seated you between her and Emily. Spencer sitting next to Derek, just out of reach from where you’d rather have him. You caught his look at you, the way his eyes flicked down to your legs as you sat down, dress riding up ever so slightly.

For someone surrounded by profilers he really didn’t try to hide what he was thinking about.

End note: I am working on pt.2 and is already over the length of pt.1 and I haven't even gotten to the good part yet. send help.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #Spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #wip #part 1 #mdni #tick tick boom #green green dress

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marvelnatr · 2 months

Text

Mistaken 18+

MINORS DNI

Warnings: Smut, strap on use, fingering, oral r receiving, mocking, praising, spanking, dacyrphilia, sub!reader, dom!Nat, daddy kink, friends with benefits.

Background: You and Yelena are friends with benefits, you decided to spend the night at her house

Your POV:

“f-fuck what’s gotten into you? Y-You’re fucking me so much harder than usual”. My hands gripped onto my best friends shoulders. Her hips continuing to thrust into me. I had slipped into her bed a little under an hour ago. It was two am at the time and the house was pitch black. After feeling my way through the room I had pulled at her, begging her to fuck me. Moaning into the darkness of the room I leaned over her, riding her strap “s-shit youre gonna make me cum”. Her thrusts quickened as her grip on my hips tightened. The coil in my belly snapping while I screamed out “f-fuck Yel!”. My orgasm washed over me as my body shook. Immediately I felt her hips still. Her body was damn near frozen. Before I could open my mouth to ask what the problem is the light was flipped on. My eyes adjusting to the new found brightness in the room. My brain almost failed to process the person in front of me. Almost…..I fucked the wrong person.

Natasha’s emerald green eyes stared at mine as panic washed over my body. I fucked my best friends sister. Smirking at me she teased “you’re soaking my sisters bed”. Stuttering a little I began to get up, trying to collect the last bit of my dignity “I-I thought you were Yelena”. Rolling her eyes Natasha sat up on her elbows “fucking relax would you? You’d think the goddamn orgasm would loosen you up.”. My face flushed an unmistakable shade of red at the thought. The orgasm she gave me was fucking mind blowing. Watching me she sighed. Sitting herself up she placed her hand on my thigh “you’re okay, I’m sorry Y/N. I seriously thought you knew it was me”. Shaking my head no I watched her. Her hand lightly ran up and down my thigh “what can I do for your aftercare?”.

Natasha’s POV:

A small mumble fell from Y/N’s mouth, barely audible as she asked for water. Getting up I grabbed it for her and watched her. Y/N’s lips wrapped around the bottle as she drank. After a few moments of awkward silence she placed the bottle on the nightstand and watched me “what now?”, putting my hair up I whispered “well I have to change the sheets we made a mess of, and I wanna make sure you’re okay”. Nodding she played with the corner of the blanket, thinking of a response “I’m okay, just a little sore”. Smirking a bit I nodded “a good sore I assume?”. Y/N shyly nodded, a smile pulling at the corners of my lips as I helped her up “good, I’m glad. Sit here while I change the sheets okay?” Y/N nodded “okie”

By the time I finished changing the sheets Y/N had fallen asleep. Her form curled up into the chair. I’ve always liked Y/N, she just had something different about her. I gently picked her up and laid her in the bed, covering her with the blanket and turning off the lights. I decided to stay in the room and do some work while she slept. I didn’t wanna leave her but I didn’t wanna make her uncomfortable by laying in bed with her.

- Time Skip -

It had been two months since Y/N’s and I’s little encounter. On several occasions I would catch her staring at me. Studying my lips. My hands. My figure. As time went on sexual tension grew. Her eyes followed me throughout the room whatever the occasion. It was another night of Tonys parties. I swear this man throws a party for literally anything. I preferred to be behind the bar. I enjoyed making the drinks and having a barrier between me and all the other people. Y/N approached the counter. Sometime during the evening she had taken off her blazer, her maroon button up was buttoned up to all but one, revealing a bit of cleavage. “What can I get you detka?” A small smile painted her face “a rum and coke please” nodding I watched her “when have you last had water?”. Y/N’s teeth caught the bottom of her lip, her eyebrows furrowing as she thought. Sighing I put down the rum and began filling the glass with water and holding it out for her to take “if you have to think about it it’s been too long, take it”. Shaking her head she politely declined “no thank you I’m okay” tilting my head I placed the glass in front of her “I’m sorry, I didn’t know it sounded like a suggestion. Drink the water Y/N”.

After a few moments she began to drink. Taking small sips as she watched me. After drinking about half she slid the glass to me, signaling she was done. Shaking my head I nodded to it “nope. Finish it” rolling her eyes a little in annoyance she picked up the glass, downing the liquid and staring at me. Clenching my jaw I watched her “drop the attitude”. Raising her eyebrows at me she countered “make me”. A proud smirk fell along her face. Happy with her witty little comeback. I for one did not find it funny. Coming around the bar I stood in front of her. “Say it again darling”, Y/N’s eyes fell to the ground, her cheeks heating up. Grabbing her jaw I brought her chin up, a small shaky breath left her lips as I challenged her again “go on, say it again pretty girl”. Shaking her head a bit Y/N whispered “no thank you”. Nodding I narrowed my eyes at her, rubbing the side of her chin “then what do we say?”. Blushing hard she whispered “I’m sorry for being rude”. Smiling I rubbed her cheek “good girl”

I watched as she rubbed her legs together. A smirk tugging at my lips “what’s wrong darling?”. Embarrassment flooded her face as she whispered “I-I’m wet”. Nodding I rubbed her jaw “is that so? I can help you with that. I know you want it love, you cant keep your eyes off me”. Melting a little in front of me she squirmed “I-I” chuckling I held her jaw, mocking her slightly “I-I. Oh what baby? You know I’m right hm?” Nodding she whispered “p-please help me”.

Picking her up I brought her to my room, her back made contact with the bed accompanied by a small squeak. Leaning over her I watched her “are you sure Y/N?” catching her breath she nodded “p-please fuck me”. Smirking a little I rubbed her thighs “please? Are you begging pretty girl” whimpering a bit she squirmed, strained forearms reached for me, the desperation flooding her eyes “p-please don’t tease me”. Lifting her dress gently I rubbed her legs “you’re beautiful my darling, I’m going to take my time with you”. Tearing up her hips bucked “b-but”. Pulling Y/N close to me I watched her eyes “ah ah ah, I am going to take my time. Cry all you want love, I find your tears so pretty”. Her cheeks flushed red as she continued to squirm.

After a few more minutes of teasing I flipped her on her stomach. By this point her panties had come off and tears of desperation were steadily flowing. bringing my fingers back up to trace her inner thighs I smiled at her “hi pretty girl”. A whimper fell from her lips “p-please Nat” chuckling a little I teased “please what princess?”. A cry fell from her lips “p-please daddy fuck me”. A satisfied smile pulled at the corners of my mouth “daddy hm?”. Blushing red she nodded. I wrapped her hair in my fist and pulled her up flush against my chest, a small whimper escaped her throat. She sounded so pretty with the little noises she made. Gripping her neck I whispered quietly in her ear “say it again”. Gasping a little she spoke again, her voice slightly strained from the pressure on her neck “p-please daddy”. Smiling I let her back down as I landed a harsh smack to her ass, dragging out the words I used to praise her “good girl”.

My hand made its way to between her thighs. Her ass propped up from the pillow I had slid under her hips. Grabbing a handful of each of her thighs I held them open, my fingertips making small indents in her flesh. Y/N’s pussy glistened with arousal, her juices leaking from her untouched and desperate hole. Licking one long strip her taste flooded my mouth. And my fucking god she tasted divine, like strawberries. A moan escaped her lips as my mouth latched around her sensitive bud, sucking slightly as she moaned and squirmed. Digging my fingers in a little I held her still while I slid my tongue into her cunt. “f-fuck daddy”, smirking I started tongue fucking her. Y/N’s breathing quickened as she got closer to the edge. I pulled my tongue out right before she fell over it, earning another cry from her “n-no! p-please stop teasing”. Chuckling I rubbed her ass “oh detka”, Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed in frustration as she turned to get up to look at me, mu hand stopping her efforts as I pushed her back into the mattress “stay down. I didn’t tell you you could get up”. Squeaking out she squirmed “y-yes daddy” nodding I ran my fingers along her slit “good girl. Look at you, obeying commands so well”.

Before she could say thank you I pushed two of my fingers into her cunt. Her velvety walls clenched around my digits “oh my, you’re so tight detka”. Her mouth closed from her silent moan and turned into a whimper “p-please”, smiling I rubbed her thigh “don’t worry love, daddy will fix it”. Opening my fingers a little I began to stretch her out, a string of moans fell from her lips as her hips bucked up into the air from the stimulation “f-fucking hell”. Smiling I began to stroke her g-spot with my fingertips. Her soft moans quickly turning into cries and screams of pleasure “h-holy shit”, chuckling I started fucking her faster “yeah? You like that baby? You’re taking me so well”. Her walls tightened around my fingers as her breathing picked up. Strands of hair stuck to her sweaty forehead “p-please”. Leaning over her I went faster “please what darling?”. Whimpering Y/N watched me “c-cum”. Taking my thumb I rolled it over her clit “cum for me baby”

Arching her back she came hard. Her body shaking and riding through her orgasm “shhhhh good girl, you did so well”, her breathing slowed as her cum ran down my forearm, the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Gently pulling my fingers out I sucked the liquid off my fingers. Moaning at her taste as she panted under me. After a few minutes she calmed down, my hand rubbed her hip gently as I turned her over, brushing the strands of hair from her sweaty forehead “good girl princess, I’ve got you”. Pulling her small form into me I pet the side of her head and let her rest.

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvelnatr #natasha x reader #marvel smut #daddy natasha #wlw smut #wlw post #lesbian fanfic #lesbian

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a1307s · 5 months

Text

Take Me From You #1

(Jason Todd Smut)

[Art is not mine! Credit to xxxviciousxxx (found on Reddit)]

Keys:

Y/N - Your Name

N/N - Nick Name

Word Count: 3,252

Warnings and/or pre-notes:

Fingering

Name Calling: Good Girl, Princess, Daddy, Baby, Babes, Slut, and Bitch

Cursing

Biting

Domination/Submission

Spanking

Mentions of blood/bleeding

Mentions of safe words

Orgasam Control

Titty Sucking

Degrading

Back scratching

Thigh Cum Shot

———————————————————————

The first sound I hear walking into the Wayne Manor is the sound of Bruce's study door slamming shut. The vintage wood crocks from the powerful slam before the manor is once again silent. I stand frozen in the foyer as I wait to see what or who disturbed the peace in the usually silent mansion.

Heavy footsteps cause the floorboards to creak. Instantly I rule out Richard for the fact that he walks with the grace of a bird which leaves the ancient floor silent under his feet. Alfred is quickly erased from the list as well under the ruling that he knows every creak and crook the manor makes, leaving the manor silent as he walks through it. That leaves Jason or the head of the house himself; Mr. Wayne.

I take in a soft breath and hold it as I wait to see if my spunky hot head of a boyfriend rounds the corner or if his makeshift narcissist father rounds it instead. Slowly a pair of smokey green eyes appear from the shadows of the hallway. Small dust particles softly float in front of Jason's eyes showing off how bright the green shines from the shadows.

"You should probably exhale," He says, making quick and rigid movements toward me. I slowly let out a breath as Jason's heavy arms slide on to my waist. "You weren't supposed to be here until six," He whispers as if he's worried about scaring the light layer of dust that always seems to cover the manor no matter how much Alfred cleans.

"It's six thirty, Jay. I'm actually late," I whisper back, focusing on his bright emerald eyes sparkling in the dark entryway. Darkness coats the both of us leaving it impossible to make out any of Jason's other features. He's so close that I can feel his heavy breath coating my face.

"Oh," is all Jay squeaks out as his arms tighten around my waist. We stand in silence letting the darkness comfortably envelope us for a couple more minutes before another set of heavy footsteps are heard coming from the study. "I'm sorry," Jason murmurs before he gently starts tugging me toward the wall. His arms are light but firm as my feet gently slide against the wood floors. Once Jay's back hits the wall he leans his head down to my ear. "Close your eyes," he whispers before gently wrapping his hand over my mouth.

My heart rate raises as Bruce's footsteps get close. I have no clue what has happened today but from Jason's short responses I can safely assume it's nothing good.

Footsteps soon enter the foyer followed by two voices. "You shouldn't be so hard on him, Burce," a soft and gentle voice says. I instantly recognize it as Richard's.

"If he doesn't want me to be hard on him, maybe he should act less like a Gotham hood rat and more like the Robin you used to be," comes Bruce's response with no mercy for anyones' feelings or opinions but his own.

"He's not going to be exactly like me, Bruce. We're two - " Richard's response is cut off as they round the corner and head toward the kitchen.

Once they're a safe distance away from us Jason unwraps his hand from my mouth and leans down to my ear again. "You can open your eyes, N/N." Jason's voice is uneven but I can't tell if it's from anger or sadness.

Slowly I obey, opening my eyes to be met with darkness again. Jay roughly lays his hands back on my waist and gently pushes me forward so he's not pinned to the wall anymore. "We're going upstairs," He says, continuing to gently push me towards the obnoxiously giant stairway.

The darkness is filled with the soft pitter patter of Jason's patrol boots and my sneakers hitting the marble stoning used on the stairs. Once we get to the top the sound is cut off by the worn cream carpet of the hallway. I count the doors as we pass them. One... two... three... four... The familiar caution tape and vintage rock band posters on Jason's door stand out from the plain walnut wood doors.

Jay's arm stretches around me to reach for the door handle. His hand lands on it but before he turns it he leans down to my ear again. "I really think you should get yourself comfy on my bed as I change or else there's going to be more aches in you than usual," Jason whispers before turning the handle.

The door creaks open as butterflies start filling my stomach. Whatever happened between Jason and the two older crime fighters was nothing close to good and I get to pay for their mistakes.

Gently Jay pushes me inside the door before letting it swing shut. I keep my eyes locked on the outline of Jason's bed and take slow steady steps towards it. The sound of the door locking sends shivers up my spine and heat down to my core. By the time my thighs make contact with the bed Jay is already in the bathroom. My hands gently clench my boyfriend's red bed sheets as I climb up into the massive king size bed.

When Jason and I first started dating he only had a small air mattress to sleep on so the upgrade was uneasy for the both of us.

I crawl toward the middle of the bed, gently placing myself with my head on top of his fluffy pillows and letting my legs stretch out in front of me. The soft thud of Jay's Robin custom hitting the floor causes my nerves to jump up in anticipation. To try and ease my nervousness I focus on untying my shoe laces and kicking my sneakers off my feet.

When I look up from my socks my eyes lock with Jason who is standing at the edge of the bed with nothing on but his boxers. The color of his eyes have turned from a bright emerald color to a dark forest green and his pupils are dilated. Slowly, Jason places a knee on the bed and reaches out for my ankle. As soon as his hand is around it, he tugs me forward.

My head slides off the pillows as the rest of me is pulled towards him. Jason rests his other knee on the bed before wrapping my legs around his waist. "Are you going to be a good girl?" He questions me as his eyes wander down my body. I nod my head knowing it'll tick him off even more. "Use your words," Jay hisses from behind clenched teeth.

"Yes, I'll be a good girl," I murmur back, waiting for his next move.

Jason slides his hands down my legs with slow and careful fingertips making sure to feel every inch of fabric covering my skin. When he gets to my waist band he hooks his fingers underneath. "I can't wait to make you tremble under me," He says before shimming my pants down my legs and tossing them somewhere into the darkness of his room. "Is that what you want? Do you want me to make you tremble?" He asks me, sliding his hand over my clothed core.

I nod my head again as my teeth sink into my lip. A soft tch tch tch comes from Jason. "I already told you once to use your words. Since you can't listen I recommend you flip yourself over because if I have to do it myself I won't be happy," He says with a hatch undertone.

"No," I squeak out as a response.

Before I know what's happening Jason wraps his arm around my back and flips me over onto my hands and knees. "You really want to back talk me right now? Do you really think that's a good idea? Huh? I guess I'm going to have to remind you what entitled princesses get when they disobey, won't I?" Jason's words come out sharp as he gently rubs my behind.

"Lose the panties and keep your eyes forward," He says after a few more soft circles on my ass. I obey, keeping my eyes locked on his oak headboard as I slide my panties off my legs.

The cold air hits my pussy like a shock wave. Before long the cold air is replaced by Jason's warm hand. Jay's rough palm cups my heat as he places soft kisses along my back. "Be a good girl for daddy, okay?"

"And if I don't?" The question gets me a hard smack of a belt on my ass. "H-hey!" I yelp out, followed by a soft whimper.

"Since someone can't remember basic rules and manners I guess we'll have to go over them until you get them right," Jason says, slowly sliding a single digit into my pussy. "Who's in charge?" He asks, slowly curling his finger inside me.

"Me," I answer back, getting another quick smack to the ass. "Y-you," I whimper out, biting my lip to help hold the forming sobs back.

"One more time, Princess. Who's in charge?" Jay asks again, slowly running his leather belt over the previous spanked cheek.

"You," I repeat, getting rewarded with a soft kiss to my back and a faster pace of his finger.

"Good job baby!" Jason says with a slightly cheerful tone. "Now, what's my name princess?"

"Jackass," I answer back before I can stop myself.

Jay delivers five fast and painful swats to my ass with his belt before pulling his finger out of my and wrapping his hand around my throat. His fingers press down on my veins, slowing the blood flow to my head. Using the hand around my throat Jason lifts me up against his bare chest. "You want to fucking repeat that?" He hissed into my ear. "Go ahead, I dare you."

After the words spill out of Jason's mouth he sinks his teeth into my shoulder. My skin burns under the feeling of him biting me. His teeth sink deeper and deeper into me. By the time I manage to peep out an "I'm sorry" I'm sure he's already drawn blood.

Jason let's go of me completely, causing me to fall back onto my hands and knees like before. "You better be," He warns as he runs his fingertips over the bite mark. "This is your last chance Y/N. Pop an attitude and I'll beat your ass until it bleeds, am I understood?" Jay asks me, sliding his fingers down my spine and causing goosebumps to follow.

"Yes," I whisper.

"What... is... my... name?" Jason takes his time getting the question out, making sure to pronounce every word like it's a threat.

"Daddy," I answer back softly.

In return Jay slides two fingers back into me. "Good girl," He hums, slowly curling his fingers in me. "Are you going to be a good girl for daddy?"

"Yes Daddy," I answer, rolling my hips back to try and get a little more friction.

Jason gives me what I want by adding another finger and picking up the pace. "Before you get what you want you have to tell Daddy the rules, alright? What's rule number one?"

I scramble through my brain trying to find the right answer so I don't lose the attention I desperately need in my pussy. "Um... Um... U-use the safe word whenever I need it," I manage to stumble out between my pants.

"What's our safe word again?"

"Peaches," I answer back as my legs start to shake from the want to cum.

"Good job baby," Jason says, speeding up the pace of his fingers again. "What's rule number two?"

"D-daddy tells me w-when I can cum."

"You're doing so good, princess. Just one more rule and then I'll let you cum all over my fingers."

Jay litters soft kisses on my back as I try to piece together my words. "All.. always... um... always listen... listen to Daddy," I finally manage to get out.

"Good job baby!" Jay says, managing to move his digits even faster in me. "You can cum for daddy now," He tells me. After a few more curls of his fingers the band in my stomach finally breaks.

My head hangs as I pant to catch my breath. Before I manage to steady my breathing Jason flips me over onto my back. "It's my turn to have fun now babes," Jay tells me, pushing my shirt up my stomach until I pull it over my head. "I can't wait to suck on your tits," He says, reaching his hands behind my back to unclasp my bra.

Once it's undone Jason strips it off of me and adds it to the growing pile of clothes on the ground. Jay positions himself between my legs so his clothes crotch is rubbing up against my bare pussy. One of his hands firmly handles my boob as his mouth wraps around the nipple of the other one.

A moan slips from my mouth as Jason slithers his tongue over my nipple. He circles his hips to match the pace of his tongue. The spring in my stomach starts to tighten again as Jay keeps playing my nerves like a fiddle. When I get close to my climax, Jason switches his movements up. His hands and mouth switch my boobs around and his hips start circling in the opposite direction.

"Baby, I want you," Jason mumbles into my chest, moving his hips up in a swift and harsh thrust. "Are you ready for me baby?" He asks, moving his head from my chest up to my face.

Jay's nose rests gently against mine as he peers into my eyes. His eyes have gone back to their sparkly emerald color instead of the harsh green from before. "Yes," I whisper out, reaching down for the waistband of his boxers. I slowly pull them off of Jay, getting the reaction of his dick bouncing out and softly slapping his stomach.

Jason leans down, brushing his chapped lips against my own. "You always taste so sweet," He says, softly sliding his penis against my folds. "Are you going to take all of me, Princess?" Jay asks, poking the tip of his dick into my entrance.

"Yes Daddy." Before the words are fully out Jason slams himself into me, causing me to yelp out in surprise. "H-hey! G-gentle," I whimper out, shifting myself around to get more comfortable with Jason filling me out.

"You're gonna take it how I give it to you, my little slut," Jay says, leaning down and whispering the last three words into my ear. All I do in response is whimper and wrap my arms around his shoulders.

Jay's hips start roughly bucking in between my legs, letting me know my hips are definitely gonna ache later. "Look at you, taking all of me like the good little bitch you are," Jason says, sliding his hand up and letting the heavy weight of it rest on my neck. "Such a pretty little slut," He says, starting to squeeze the sides of my neck again.

Jason picks up his pace, squeezing harder the faster he goes. Pants spill out of me as Jason brutally bruises my insides. "Mmm.. J-Jay..." I mumble, digging my nails into his shoulders.

"Try again," He says, loosening his grip on my neck so I can catch my breath. "What's my name, Baby?" He asks, going back to his deadly grip on my neck once I catch my breath.

"D-daddy," I say, tears starting to spill down my cheeks. "Y-your name i-is Daddy," I squeak out.

Jay softly chuckles, bending his head down and sinking his teeth into the side of my neck. The familiar burning sensation reappears but this time it's on my neck instead of my shoulder. "Are you ready to cum for Daddy?" He asks, lifting away from my neck just to turn it to the other side and leave another bite print.

"Y-yes," I manage to get out between gasps of air.

Once Jason is satisfied with the mark he lifts his head up and lets go of my neck. "Then cum on my cock like the pretty little slut you are," Jay says, keeping his eyes locked on me without his thrusts ever wavering.

A few more thrusts later and the tight spring inside me finally lets loose. "Jay!" I moan, shooting up and wrapping myself even closer to him as I finish.

"Good job, Baby. Good job," Jay mumbles, brushing his hand through my hair. "You did so good for Daddy," Jason continues, softly thrusting into me.

"Jay," I mumble tears stricking down my face as I bury my head into my neck.

"I know baby but I'm so close, just a few more," Jason says, laying me back down on the bed. His head is buried in my neck, softly brushing kisses against my skin as he thrusts into me. "Shit," He mumbles, pulling out of me.

I keep my eyes locked on him as he coats my thighs with his warm seed. When he's done, Jay lays his head in the creak of my neck and pins me to the bed with his body weight. His breath is heavy and hot against my skin as he catches his breath. I slide my hands through his hair for a few minutes before piping up from under him. "Baby, I got to pee and clean myself off."

"Okay," Jason mumbles, rolling off of me. I lay on the bed for a minute admiring him. His chest sharply jumps up and down. His arm that's laid over his eyes twitches as he breathes in and out. There's a deep gash on his thigh, probably from a mission earlier this week. "Do you want to take a shower?"

"No, I'll shower in the morning," I say back, sitting up and scooting out of the bed.

"There's a washcloth under the sink," Jason says, rolling over on his side.

I look at him for a few more seconds before turning around and walking towards the bathroom. The heavy door doesn't make a peep as I open it up. The bathroom light is still on when I walk in. The walls are a soft cream color counter-acting all the bright white marble around the room. I swing open the sink cabinet door and just as Jay said, there sits a bright red washcloth. I take it out and soak it in warm water before wiping off Jason's mess from my thighs. I quickly finish up my business in the bathroom before walking back out into the bedroom.

Since I've been gone, Jay's thrown his boxers back on and pulled out a file. "Whatcha reading?" I ask, walking around the room and putting back on my underwear and Jay's t-shirt.

"It's the case we've been working on. Apparently Dick found an 'obvious' clue that I 'should have seen' according to Bruce anyway," Jason says, rolling his eyes and clenching the file tighter.

I look at Jason, thinking of the right thing to say to him. "Baby, if you keep running yourself like this - if you keep letting Bruce run you like this and comparing you to Richard you're going to end up dead."

Jason looks at me, his eyes dark and his face frowning more than usual. "I would never let Bruce take me from you."

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#Jason Todd #Redhood #jason todd oneshot #Redhood oneshot #jason todd smut #redhood smut #dc oneshot #dc comics #dc smut #jason todd x reader #redhood x reader

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chaoticevilspacewitch · 5 months

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RWBY Fanfic Master Post

Seeing as how this has become, primarily, a RWBY blog... and I write a lot of RWBY fanfic... here ya go:

Ongoing Stories

We May Fall (A Dance of Light and Shadow) - Weiss Schnee will do anything to safeguard the secret that she's actually a faunus. But when her long-suppressed heat cycle begins dramatically, all of Team RWBY finds out in one wild night that will bind them together like never before and change the fate of Remnant itself. (Pollination, no Enabler)

On Silver Wings We Soar - Maria died young and got her soul stuck in a weapon that Ruby found 100 years later. So now on top of the fall of Beacon, our heroines have to navigate a love triangle between Ruby, Weiss, and the ghost attached to a harpoon-axe that's also a gun. (Maria + WhiteRose, background Bees, KnightLight, Hellebore, and Renora)

Haven Trail - It's RWBY meets Oregon Trail! Yang leads a group of pioneers across a Grimm-infested wilderness. Blake is torn between Yang and Velvet, whose abusive husband is a threat to everyone, while Ruby and Weiss dance around their feelings for each other and Cinder and Emerald try to dig up ancient technological secrets. Oh yeah, and there's dysentery. (WhiteRose, Bumblebey, Black Velvet, Chaos Emeralds, Arkos, Hellebore)

The Dragon From Mercury - G Witch with Yang in Suletta's role, Blake in Miorine's, featuring Ruby as Aerial. (Bumbleby)

Scattered Petals - a canon-divergent AU focusing on reimagining the story through rarepairs. (Schneekos, Ladybug, Baked Alaska, Crosshares, KnightLight, Rainbow Quartz, Firewall)

Completed Stories

The Monsters Within Us - Fairy tale AU where maiden Blake is pursued by the cruel Baron Taurus, only to stumble into the arms of Yang... who is a half-human, half-serpent lamia. Lots of amazing illustrations, and monsterfucking with plot and feelings! (Bumbleby, background Rainbow Quartz)

Frozen Lemonade - College AU. Rivals Weiss and Yang find their one-time cathartic hate-fuck complicated when Tai and Willow meet at a celebrity therapy event and elope, suddenly tying the two of them together. (Freezerburn, Schneekos, Greek Fire, background Nuts & Dolts)

In Rainbow's Shadow - Ilia & Emerald work as a covert ops wet team, taking on missions requiring stealth and dubious morality. They confront their feelings for each other in the middle of a deep ocean research station performing nightmarish Grimm experiments. (Rainbow Quartz)

Through a Mirror, Brightly - when a mysterious Grimm traps Weiss in a ghostly, sidereal state and erases her from everyone's memory, it falls to the feelings she and Ruby had for each other to bring them back together. Lots of illustrations! (WhiteRose, background Bees)

Let's See the Sunrise Together - modern AU. Weiss's arranged marriage is in jeopardy when the bachelorette party Coco throws her ends up at a strip club where she's enraptured by the beautiful Yang Xiao Long. (Freezerburn, background Crosshares)

A Medical Necessity - Blake goes into heat over the winter holiday break, with only Weiss around to help her. Smut and feels. (Monochrome)

The Curse of the Abominable Snow-Grimm - RWBY goes on a team building mission to a ski resort, where a mysterious Grimm attack will force them to confront Weiss and Blake's past, and their feelings for their new teammates. (WhiteRose, Bumbleby)

Cold Nights, Warm Hearts - in a modern AU, Winter Schnee is very nervous about going to her girlfriend Cinder Fall's winter solstice celebration and meeting her pagan friends. (Temperature Play)

I've also got a bunch of shorts and one-shots if you're interested. Almost everything I write is sapphic, and I do a lot of smut with plot.

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illyrian-dreamer · 1 year

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Frozen Flames (Part 5)

Lucien x Reader

Summary: Lucien shows you exactly how he likes to celebrate Solstice. 😉

Smut smut smut!! 🌶️🌶️🌶️18+ (minors DNI)

Warnings: Smut, f in v, 18+ (minors DNI)

Word count: 2, 742

Part 5:

∇

You sipped on your mulled wine, admiring the view of the Winter City sparkling in colourful Solstice lights from a small terrace of the Winter Castle.

You had escaped here to have a moments peace from the bustle of celebrations inside. Children were now put to bed, and few remained as you shared stories and jokes, the sweet heated wine pouring endlessly for those who were still awake.

You snuggled into the sweater you wore – Lucien’s hand made gift to you. You were sure it was a joke, the obnoxiously large pear planted on the front meant to mock you, but you appreciated the gesture for what it was. An extension of friendship – perhaps something more. You pulled the neck of the sweater higher, breathing in as you scented him in the wool.

You weren’t alone for long, and you saw a broad figure and a flick of red hair rest against the railing next to you from the corner of your eye.

You turned to Lucien, who was already looking down at you with a half smile planted on his handsome face.

“Out here all alone, Y/N?” he questioned, folding his arms over his chest.

“Just taking a moment to myself.” That was half true – you were hoping to reflect on your mothers absence, and give her a silent prayer.

You took in Lucien properly for the first time today. He wore plain black trousers, and a deep emerald tunic that was rolled at the sleeves. His long bright hair was pulled back into a bun, long auburn strands falling in his face. For the first time, you could see the full extent of the scar that ran across his eye. Your heart pulled, knowing it was Amarantha’s doing.

“I’m amazed you haven’t frozen to death yet,” you commented, nodding to his lack of clothing.

Lucien chuckled, quirking an eyebrow at you. “Like my brothers, I have fire in my veins. It is rare for me to feel the bite of the cold.” You couldn’t help but wonder if what he had meant that to have a double meaning.

The warmth of the wine willed happiness in you, and you turned to Lucien with a small smile.

“I’m glad you are here, Lucien.”

“Is that so?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms as you leaned back against the railing. “Ever the arrogant ass,” you huffed, and Lucien laughed at your cheek. “I was merely going to say it has been nice getting to know you. I’ve enjoyed your company,” you said.

Before you could think, Lucien had moved between you and the railing, his arms on either side as they gripped the metal, trapping you between him.

“I can offer you so much more than good company, Y/N.”

Your heart fluttered as Lucien raked his eyes down your body, a feline grin spreading across his face as his metal eye whirled with excitement.

“And by what I scented at the gift exchange earlier,” Lucien spoke in your ear, his voice husky and disarmingly quiet. “It would seem you might like me to show you.”

You swallowed, your core now throbbing at the sensual lick to his flirtatious tone. Lucien held his smirk and cocked an eyebrow, his metal eye now as fixed as his russet one as he no doubt scented the change in you again.

It had been many years since you had laid with a male. But were you going to allow him to undo you this easily?

“I’m sure I don't know what you’re talking about,” you blinked up at him, forcing a look of innocence to your face. Two could play at this game.

Lucien’s chuckle was deep, even predatory. He bought a large hand up to the side of your face, gently running it down your cheek before gripping your chin, forcing your eyes to stay on his.

“What I’m talking about, sweetheart, is the smell of your arousal that’s been driving me mad since we first met in that forest.”

Your cheeks flooded with heat. You hadn't realised he could scent you since your first encounter days earlier. You tried to pull away from his hold, burning under his gaze, but Lucien kept a firm grip on your chin.

“Oh Y/N, don't go shy on me now,” he teased, eyebrows pulling in fake sympathy. “I can help you.”

You couldn’t help the buckle in your knees as you synched your breathing, wishing your heart rate to slow your as Lucien laced one strong arm around your back, the other still holding your face.

He leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on the underside of your jaw. “I can make you feel better.”

You whimpered at his touch, your own arousal beginning to pool from you as your head dipped back naturally. You kept your arms on the railing, gripping for dear life.

He placed an identical kiss to the other side of your throat. “I can make you feel good.”

You needed no more convincing. Your arms snapped around his neck, pulling Lucien’s lips on top of yours.

Lucien chuckled into the kiss, his smile pressed against your mouth as you tried to pull him in further. He grabbed your face in his hands, pulling back as his eyes darted between yours.

“Is that a yes?” he asked, levelling a smug look at you.

You couldn’t help the roll of your eyes. “Shut up and kiss me, Vanserra.”

Lucien grinned, before gently caressing your face once more, his lips hovering above yours as you felt the warmth of his breath. You closed your eyes, leaning closer in anticipation, desperate to feel his tongue against yours. You both hovered there for a moment.

“Take a deep breath.”

You opened your eyes, and found Lucien staring at your mouth. You didn’t have time to ask what he meant before he pressed you against him, and you were suddenly ripping through space and time itself.

You gasped, Lucien holding you upright as you tried to steady your landing from his winnow. You now stood in what you knew was one of many guest rooms of the Winter Castle – Lucien’s guest room.

“Bastard,” you breathed, trying to catch yourself up to the change of scenery.

Lucien smirked at your comment, his metal eye whirling as he raised a hand to the small fireplace on the far-side of the room, flames instantly igniting.

“That’s some trick you’ve got,” you commented, raking your eyes over the handsome male before you as you approached him, running a sultry finger down his strong arm.

Lucien smiled mischievously at you, his strong arms wrapping behind your lower back and pressing you to him. It took all you had to not moan at the feeling of your own crotch against his.

“There’s more where that came from, Y/N,” he said, his voice now low and husky with lust. Lucien ran his eyes down you again, his smirk growing as he drank you in. “You’re exquisite,” he murmured.

You blushed, feeling completely undone and naked under his gaze despite your many layers. “Is that so?” you teased, using his own question from earlier to mock him.

Lucien grinned, his eyes lighting up with excitement and challenge. “Indeed,” he nodded. “Although, I’m wondering just how much more exquisite you would look, naked in my sheets while I licked every inch of your body.”

Your insides throbbed at his words, and you couldn't help the skip in your heart beat.

“Why don’t you find out?”

Lucien growled, crushing his lips against your as he pulled you closer to his large frame. Your fingers instantly laces in his hair, pulling at the band that tied it back to release his long locks. He was always handsome, but to see Lucien with his hair down – he was breathtakingly beautiful.

Lucien continued to kiss you at he pulled roughly at the sweater he made, desperate to reach your bare skin beneath. You let him undress you fully, before attacking his tunic and trousers too. You both now stood naked, bodies glowing in the light of the fire as you panted, chests rising and falling in anticipation.

You let your eyes wonder to his crotch, and you drew a breath at the sheer size of him. He stood hard and proud, his cock firm against his abs, the length of it passing his bellybutton. Perhaps this is where his cockiness stemmed from.

Lucien was taking the time to drink in the sight of you too, his warm eyes dancing all over your body as he stared at your hungrily. He approached you then, gently cupping one of your breasts as his other hand stroked your free flowing hair. “You are devastatingly beautiful.”

You wanted him all over you, your skin burning in anticipation. You pulled Lucien in, closing your mouth over his as you ran your hands across his muscular arms and down the ripples of his toned stomach. Even in the dim lighting, his deep skin glowed.

You dared to touch his member, running a gentle hand down as you took in it’s shape. A thick vein ran up the length to the bulbous head, the heaviness of him not going unnoticed. Lucien jerked in reaction, and you tightened your grip before circling the tip with your thumb. Your mouth watered – desperate for a touch, a taste.

“Oh gods Y/N,” he groaned, eyebrows clenching.

Lucien’s mouth began to make it’s way down your neck as you tilted your head back, allowing him access. Lucien squeezed your breasts between his large hands, and your breaths quickly became pants. Your hand worked between you two, your stroking becoming a rhythm as Lucien’s hips worked to meet your hand.

“Ugh, sweetheart,” Lucien grunted against you. “You’re going to have to stop that.”

“Can’t handle me already, Vanserra?,” you teased, smiling seductively up at the male. You expected him to laugh, but instead Lucien put his forward against yours, his eyebrows pulling in lust.

The fact that you had such an effect on him empowered you. You used your other hand to massage his softer regions while quickening your movements against his shaft.

Lucien’s hands flew to your face and he groaned, pulling you in for a deep, sensual kiss as his tongue slipped over yours. He was thrusting against you now, moaning at each of movements. You throbbed at the sounds he made, and you felt your own liquid seep between your legs.

Lucien pulled from your kiss quickly, his hands on your shoulders. “Y/N, oh, stop it, stop now or I’ll–”

“Do it,” you told him. Lucien’s eyes went wide at your request, but before he could fight you on it, you ran a strategic thumb over his tip.

“Mother have mercy.” Lucien grasped to you as he threw his head back into a roar, thrusting hard into your grip. Hot liquid shot from him, covering your hand and both your stomachs as he continued to spurt at each thrust. It took many moments for his writhing to stop, his moans now replaced with pants as he pressed his forward to yours again.

You glowed in triumph, satisfied with how quickly you had made Lucien climax – despite the lack of your own finish. That was ok, you could always continue another night.

“You are a wicked thing,” Lucien grinned down at you, before running his tongue along your jaw to find your mouth.

You moaned against his kiss as he pulled you in, your hands locking into his roots as he roamed your body. You felt his shaft pressed against your stomach, still as solid as it had been when you first started.

You pulled away, flicking your eyes down and back up to meet Lucien’s cocky grin as he watched realisation spread across your face. This was far from over.

“Did you think I would let you go without even a taste of you?”

Your legs buckled at his words. Lucien prowled towards you, herding you to the edge of his bed. He raked his eyes over you again, his hardness stirring before he gave you a boyish push.

You gasped as you fell back, your arms flinging out before the mattress caught you, you hair sprawling as you landed in a bounce. You hadn't realised the bed was so close, and you threw a glare up at Lucien who laughed huskily.

“Prick,” you grumbled, closing your arms over your chest.

“Precisely,” he purred back, moving swiftly to straddle your legs as he used two strong hands to pry your arms open, pinning them to the bed. You lay bare beneath him, his warms eyes glowing before he dove into one of your breasts, his mouth enveloping the flesh as he flicked his tongue against your nipple. You moaned in response, writhing beneath him as Lucien tightened the grasp on your arms.

“Such a pretty, pretty girl,” he murmured into your ear before moving to indulge on your other breast. You were desperate for him to fill you, to touch you – even move against you, and you ground yourself as best as you could against his large frame.

Lucien chuckled, hovering his face above yours as he cocked an eyebrow at you. Strands of his long hair fell over your face, and you were completely undone at the sight of his muscular frame encompassing you. You clenched your brow, throwing a pleading look up at the male.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” Lucien teased. “Desperate for me to touch you?”

You huffed in response, moving your crotch as much as he would let you. Lucien let go of one of your wrists, bringing a hand to sweep your jaw before placing a deep kiss on your lips. “Let me help you with that.”

You saw stars the moment he touched you. He ran two fingers down your slit before cupping your mound, and you jerked involuntarily while a whimper escaped you.

“My goodness, Y/N. Look at how wet you are for me.”

Lucien ran his fingers over you again and again, and you squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to not finish right there and then. Your insides pulled at the thought of him sliding his fingers within you, his hand –

You gasped, unable to finish your thought as Lucien slipped two fingers deep inside you, curling them against your inner wall as if beckoning himself to you. A moan ripped from your throat, as your arms tugged toward you in pleasure.

Lucien couldn’t help his conceited chuckle as he continued to move his fingers within you. He pressed his thumb against your sensitive spot, moving it in a circular motion which pulled another jerk and involuntary cry from you.

“Feels, so, good,” you panted, your eyes squeezing shut again as you tightened around him. You were so close to finishing already.

“That it sweets, cum on my hand.” Lucien rested on one elbow, his head next to yours as he admired the look of pleasure on your face, his other arm working your to orgasm.

“Oh, gods, Lucien,” you cried out, his words alone driving you mad.

“C’mon now, you can do it,” Lucien was smirking down at you, moving his hand in you again and again. “Atta girl.”

Pleasure exploded in your mind and body. You bought your own fist to your mouth, bitting down as the cry that escaped you, your other hand gripping Lucien’s as you finished around his fingers, liquid gushing at the long awaited release. Lucien slowed his movements but continued to work his fingers, the wet sounds of your climax and panting filling the room.

You breathed, throwing your hands against the bed as you smiled hazily up at Lucien. His eyes were already on yours, as he matched your pleasure filled expression, finally removing himself from you before closing his lips onto of yours.

“That was…,” you trailed off, unable to find the right words.

Lucien grinned against your kiss. “Feeling good, kitten?”

You let him gloat. “Exceptionally.”

Lucien swiftly moved you onto of him, your legs now on either side of his waist as he pulled you against his muscular chest. His hardness poked at your rear – you had forgotten all about his ever-lasting state.

Lucien smirked up at you as he tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart.”

You bit your lip as you shook your head in defeat. This male was going to be the end of you.

--------

AN: Ahhh our first smut for the series!! I honestly didn’t expect the chapter to end here, but it was getting too long. So expect the next part to be just as spicy as this 🌶️

I hope you liked this chapter - please let me know if you’d like to join the tag list, and as always, I would LOVE to hear your feedback 💕

Tags: @jazmin2211 @timecharm @itscaitymoore @honeyrydernot @brekkershadowsinger @fall-myriad @iceystars404 @kennedy-brooke @marigold-morelli

#Lucien #lucien vanserra #lucien acotar #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fandom #acotar fanfic #acotar headcanon #lucien fluff #acotar x reader #lucien smut #lucien vanserra smut #acotar smut

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vampire-exgirlfriend · 5 months

Note

wyllaemond smut prompt: the fox of karhold and the rogue prince (ot3 verse)

well, this absolutely ran away with me. so much for being 1k words.

fall on me like night

pairing: aemond targaryen x oc wylla karstark

rating: e

words: 4.5k

this is a future outtake from the ot3verse, no more than i was or than i am, which you can find here

Lovely did not do justice to his sister's newest lady in waiting.

No, the Fox of Karhold was not lovely.

Haunting, perhaps. Or maybe devastating was a better word.

Her face was an amalgamation of features that may have been plain on anyone else: soft cheeks, rounded jaw, rosebud mouth. But her skin was pale as the moon, her eyes as gray as a storm that built off the coast. Narrowed in distrust as they were now, that storm built until he could swear he heard lightning in the distance.

“You want to dance?” she asked. “With me?”

The pointed question poked at the tender bruise of Aemond's ego. “That's what I said, isn't it?” he snapped, all snarling teeth but little heat.

He did want to dance with her. He'd watched her flit around all evening, draped in black velvet, diamond starbursts in her hair - hair that fell loose and curling to mid thigh. ‘Was it heavy,’ he wondered, ‘all that pretty midnight hair?’

“Fine,” she answered, her voice matching his bite even through her thick northern accent, and slid her small hand into his.

His uncle had goaded him into asking her, watching him as he watched her. “Go on then,” Daemon had said. “It's depressing to witness.” He had softened, pushing lightly at Aemond's shoulder when his face tightened at the implication. “She won't deny you. The pretty little creature has been casting furtive glances all evening.” He turned away then, back to Rhaenyra and Alicent beside her, both smiling at whatever inane thing they spoke of, his mother in a tiara of silver and emeralds, his sister in their father's crown. Rhaenyra turned toward him, as if she felt his stare, and gave him an encouraging smile, giving away that they had been talking about him.

Wylla Karstark’s hand was cool in his, as if the northern winds coursed through her veins instead of blood. It eased the heat that licked at his skin, ever present, perhaps more so since he had claimed his dragon.

“You're a better dancer than your brother,” the fox said primly, her eye on some faraway point over his shoulder as he guided her in the steps of the dance. His hands found her waist, pressing tighter than was altogether appropriate. But the way she inhaled sharply at his touch was worth the impropriety.

Aemond looked to where Aegon danced with his wife, Abrogail Strong. The red head was dainty, graceful even, and Aegon could not tear his eyes from her.

He cleared his throat. “Thank you.”

“I think this is the nicest you've been to me since I've arrived.” There was distrust in her voice.

Aemond bristled. “You say that as if I've been cruel.”

She laughed and the sound pulled at something low in his gut. It was a large laugh, boisterous, too big for her small frame. He wondered where she hid it. “Not cruel. Only disdainful. Distant.”

“You are my sister's lady,” was all he said in answer.

Helaena had taken to Wylla immediately upon her arrival from the frozen wastes she called home, wrapping her in dragon’s claws and claiming she would like to keep her. It made him happy to see she had finally found another friend. And Wylla did make her smile, letting his sister set her beetles to crawl over her skirts or placing moths in her hair like jewels.

He glanced down and found her staring up at him, head cocked, and suddenly he felt like prey, stalked through the Kingswood. But Aemond was not prey.

He was a dragon.

Leaning forward, he placed his cheek to her temple, feeling the little shiver that ran through her. “You have lovely eyes,” he murmured, and prayed the line would not leave him embarrassed.

Wylla cleared her throat. “Thank you, my prince.” He spun her then, the long bell sleeves of her gown fluttering around them. “Yours is lovely as well.”

He believed she meant it and smiled down at her, noticing for the first time a small scar that cut through her top lip.

The song ended and his fox was pulled away, though she kept her gaze on him until the crowd swallowed her up.

—

A week had passed since the queen's birthday feast and Rhaenyra had been in a happy mood. Her second-born, Prince Lucerys, had arrived back in King's Landing after a time spent warding with their aunt, Princess Rhaenys, and the Sea Snake. He was tan skinned from all the time spent aboard a ship, the tawny making his hair shine more gold than silver, all smiles and tales of life at sea.

Devoid of her attention, and subsequently his mother and uncle's, Aemond wandered until he found himself in his favorite spot in the gardens. A statue of Visenya the Conqueror rose up from a stone dais, her hand on the hilt of Dark Sister, her eyes cast to the distance. A fountain bubbled around her feet, and blooms he knew to be poisonous crawled up her legs like armor, blood red and a purple so dark and deep as to be nearly black.

There was a rustle of fabric from behind the statue and he leaned over to find Wylla Karstark looking over him, gray eyes wide.

Her raven hair gleamed in the torchlight, lit by servants as the sun set. Though they were alone now.

The thought curled deliciously in his gut.

“You could ask for her hand,” Daemon had said after the feast. “You know you want her. And her brute of a father would never turn you down.”

“Apologies, my prince,” she said, rising to her feet, blue skirts the color of the night sky tumbling around her legs. It was the same shade of blue as the sapphire he wore in place of his eye, lost six years ago in a sparring accident when he and Lucerys had been foolish enough to attempt live steel, both boys feeling as if they had something to prove.

“Aemond,” he choked out after a long moment.

“Excuse me?”

“My name.”

She raised a thin brow, finely arched. “Yes, I know your name.”

“You may call me Aemond.” He felt the blood creep into his cheeks.

“Och, is that right?” She was teasing him and he wasn't sure if he loved or hated it. “Well then, Aemond,” she purred, “I must be on my way.”

She passed, and as if his hand had a mind of its own, he reached for her, his fingers closing around her wrist. “Must you?” he asked.

The fox did not pull away. Instead she looked up at him from beneath sooty lashes, so long they graced the round of her cheek when she blinked away her surprise.

“Stay,” he commanded, though his voice nearly trembled with the word.

“I -.”

Aemond kissed her then to silence her. It was clumsy, foolish, but she didn't not push him away. Her fingers curled in the fabric of his doublet as if to hold him closer and his own hands found her waist to draw her against him. He had the feeling neither of them knew what they were doing, not truly. At least he did not, having only shared a few kisses with Helaena when they had snuck too much wine two years ago. But Helaena was to wed their nephew now, and Jacaerys made her happy.

He could not let her take Wylla to Dragonstone, not when he had only just found her.

They broke apart for a gasping breath and a flush crept over Wylla's snowfall skin.

“Do you often kiss women in secret gardens?” she asked, taking the measure of him.

He shook his head, though he could not help throwing back his own barb. “Do you often allow strange men to kiss you in secret gardens?”

“Not until tonight.”

He hummed and kissed her again, one hand finding its way to tangle in the hair at the back of her neck. A weak moan fought its way from between her lips, now swollen and pouting, and the sound of it nearly tore him apart.

Aemond backed her up in shuffling steps until they came to rest against the stone wall, the ivy framing her body and for a moment he wished it would entangle them, keep them hidden in this moment forever.

“Do you still find me disdainful?” His voice was a low rasp, stuck somewhere in his throat. He kissed across her jaw, down the column of her neck, his lips seeking purchase against any inch of bare flesh as his hand rose to brush a thumb over the little scar that marred her top lip. Visions of sinking his teeth into her danced across his mind and he wondered if she would enjoy the sting of pain as he did, a pleasure he had discovered when handling himself too roughly one evening, visions of her in that black dress painted behind his eyelids.

The girl blinked up at him, as if his words had only barely registered, and he felt a warm bloom of pride beneath his ribs. “Not terribly so,” she admitted, though her face was a strange mix of irritation and arousal, her eyes falling back to his mouth. He kissed her again, licking at her mouth, hoping for a taste. But her hands found his chest and she pushed gently. “I meant it when I said I must leave. The princess will require her bath soon and I must -.”

“And what of your prince?” He was pouting now, a familiar stinging petulance rising up in him. Aemond gathered her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over her jaw, tightening a fraction too much. But she did not wince; she simply glared and pushed harder, ducking to slip beneath his arm.

“I’m sure the prince can find a multitude of ways to entertain himself in my absence.” The words were snappish, a cold wind, and he saw how she had earned her nickname, with her narrowed eyes and the feral cut of her mouth.

She gave him no time to reply, stomping through the arch and back toward the keep.

—

“You are pouting.” The soft voice curled around the shelf that he currently hid behind.

“I am not pouting.”

An indelicate snort of laughter, followed by the rustling of fabric, and suddenly his eldest sister sat beside him.

Rhaenyra did not wear her crown today. Instead her starlight hair was twisted into a series of braids that gathered at the back of her head before falling down her back in gentle waves. Her violet eyes, nearly the same shade of his, hid a glimmer of mischief, as if being queen held not a candle to the mental torture of her younger brother.

“Fearsome little Aemond, pouting over a girl.”

He glared. “And to think, the queen of the Seven Kingdoms sits on the floor in a library to tease her brother. Not particularly regal of you.”

“It’s a fair use of my personal time.” She nudged her shoulder against his, but he did not look at her, his eye still focused on the tome in his hands - the tome he had reread the same section of over and over. “The northern girl?” She asked.

Was he so hopelessly transparent? Had he become so pathetic?

“Not entirely pathetic, no.”

Aemond groaned when he realized he’d spoken the words aloud, dropping his head back against the shelf, the dull thud of it making his sister laugh.

“Aemond -.”

“Please don’t.”

She laid a hand on his knee. “I may have overstated your patheticness for my own amusement. But truly, you’re doing nothing wrong. Not nearly as ridiculous as your brother for the Strong girl or even Jace for Helaena. Of all my siblings, of all my children, you are the most stoic. But you aren’t doing anything wrong or shameful or embarrassing.”

“I hate this feeling. I hate the way it eats at me, the way it feels lodged in my chest.” He resented it, wanted to punish the girl for the sin of making him want her. At the same time though, he longed to see her smile directed at him, even if it was accompanied by her nearly constant ire.

Her answering smile was soft and for the first time in a long time, Aemond remembered how young she truly was, less than two decades his senior. Rhaenyra shifted, the black silk of her gown shimmering in the light that came in through the high windows. “If you’re lucky, that feeling never fades.” She waved her hand. “Take the girl flying.”

He made a face. “I heard her tell Helaena she does not care for the dragons.”

“To be fair, the largest animal she’s seen, other than a horse, is those wolves of the north. Dragons are fearsome, they are magic made flesh. You, my favorite brother, are a dragon.”

Aemond rolled his eye. “Aegon is your favorite.”

“No, he is simply the most like me. Which probably makes him your mother’s favorite.”

“Hateful,” he teased, the knot of worry in his chest loosening slightly. “Daemon says I should simply ask her father for her hand.”

“Please only listen to your uncle in small increments,” she sighed, dropping her own head back beside his. “Just…just go to her. Learn her. Know her. See what you find.”

The idea of knowing Wylla, of learning her, made some dark thing, hot and a little wild, curl up in his belly - a feeling that was altogether uncomfortable as he sat beside his sister, his queen, on the library floor. Aemond shifted and then stood, reaching down for Rhaenyra, who took his hand and rose to her feet. She did not reach for him, did not comfort him in the way she might Aegon, who basked under physical contact like a satisfied cat. Instead she looked at him, truly looked, and the corners of her mouth curled into a smile. “You are a dragon,” was all she said before turning and walking out of the room, leaving him alone with his desires.

—

The low torchlight was Aemond’s only companion as he traversed the tunnels, counting his steps and praying that he wasn’t about to open the wrong door. From Helaena’s rooms, Wylla’s should only be a handful of paces away, close enough that Helaena could call on her at any time should she need her.

He stood before the seam that should open into her room, directed beside the fireplace, if his rememberings were correct, and wondered if he was altogether insane for even considering this. Rhaenyra had told him to dismiss her husband’s advice, but he could think of nothing else since Daemon’s sly reminder that the little fox was prime for the taking in her own rooms, with no one around to distract them. “How could she deny you?” he’d asked. “You are far too like me to say no to.”

Aemond was not sure that was the compliment his uncle believed it to be, yet here he stood, torch in hand, his fingertips pressed to the rough stone as he imagined the girl lounging across her bed. ‘Did she sleep beneath northern furs?’ he wondered. ‘Would she taste like wine she had snuck before bed?’

Forgetting his misgivings and focusing on that dangerous tendril that snaked through him, Aemond pushed open the door, setting the torch in the iron holder beside it. He blinked when he entered the room.

Candles burned low on nearly every surface and the air smelled of cinnamon, thick and spicy, but not cloying. The bed was empty, as was the chaise at the end of it.

Water splashed to his left and his head snapped in that direction, eye widening at the sight of her in the tub.

Wylla’s gray eyes were wide, a small paring knife in her hand, clutched between her slender fingers. He saw the tray of fruit on the small table beside the metal tub.

“What in the hells are you doing?” she hissed.

He noticed that she did not shout, did not raise her voice to alert the guards, and a new sort of confidence built in him.

Aemond stalked closer to the tub, his eye darting between her face and the knife she clutched. Lower still, he found the soft round of her breasts only just covered by the still steaming water. Her hair was plaited and piled loosely at the back of her head to keep from getting wet, tendrils curling around her jaw and he wanted to lick the water droplets that raced down her neck.

“Put down the knife,” he murmured, his eye darkening at the idea of just what she might do to him with it. It was not an altogether unpleasant imagining.

But Wylla did not put down the knife. Instead, she stood, baring herself to him, teeth showing in a snarl that went straight to his cock. Her breasts were small, no more than a handful each, and her waist tapered before blooming into hips that were wider than he had expected. He could imagine exactly how her plump rear would feel in his hands. “Why exactly would I do that?” she asked. “You sneak into my room from some hole in the wall and expect what? A warm welcome?”

His gaze traveled over her body, cataloging each freckle and blemish that marked her pale skin. Surrounded by steam and wet as she was, he wondered if this is what those old gods of hers looked like: silent, though wild, beautiful and yet terrifying.

He wanted to taste her, to sink his teeth into her soft flesh, and found that he was at a loss for words. Stepping closer, never taking his eyes from her, he approached the tub. The heat was delicious as it rolled off of her, and he desired nothing more than to strip from his doublet and press close against her, close enough to imprint himself upon her. Gently, more gently than he realized he could, he reached forward, his fingers twining around her wrist. When she did not release the blade, he squeezed, reveling in the way her delicate bones felt against his palm.

The knife clattered to the ground and Wylla opened her mouth, likely to attack him with her teeth, but Aemond pulled her forward with a sharp jerk and pressed his lips to hers. Before she could shove at him, fight him off, he pulled her from the tub, pressing her wet body to his, molding her to him.

She surprised him then, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him deeply, and with a little jump, her legs wrapped around his waist. Aemond moaned and she licked into his mouth, her tongue curling behind his teeth, her fingers gripping hard at his unbound hair.

In a clumsy rush, he walked them to the bed, doing his best to avoid tripping over unfamiliar furniture. He did not dump her against the furs, instead curling his body around hers, his hands finding her waist, her ribs, her breasts. She made eager little noises beneath him, finding the ties at the front of his doublet and ripping at them impatiently. He shed the damned thing and could not help but moan when she found his bare skin.

“My father will demand your head for this,” she murmured as he licked a trail over the column of her throat.

“He can’t.” His reply was breathless as he shifted, kissing the top of her breast before wrapping his lips around her peaked nipple. Wylla whined at that, arching her back.

“No?” It was a silly pointless question.

Aemond clutched at her other breast, molding it against his palm, delighted at the way his hand engulfed her flesh. “Not if you are my wife.” He abandoned his groping to undo the ties at his waist, lowering his breeches and small clothes until finally his cock was free, so hard it bobbed, throbbing against her thigh.

Wylla stilled beneath him. “Are you…asking me to marry you?”

The insanity of the moment, of the words he’d actually uttered, slammed into him. But such had been his uncle's advice and he owned the ludicrousness of it. “I don’t believe I asked.”

“You are telling me to marry you?”

‘Please, please, please,’ his heart thrummed, though his pride would not allow the begging question to cross his lips.

He kissed her soundly and pulled her bottom lip between his teeth, biting down sharply, as if asserting his desired ownership. “Yes,” he mumbled against her wet flesh.

A fearful look chased away the ire and desire he had seen just a second ago. “I cannot. I…I am promised to Lord Bolton’s son.” She gently gathered his hair in her hand, tugging sweetly at the ends of it in a gesture that had him wanting to rub against her like a cat.

Aemond expected rage. He expected that violent creature that lived in him to raise up, to swallow him and her both. He realized that she had allowed things to go as far as they had in a bid at claiming a bit of independence, a fantasy to cling to when she was back in the cold north, wife to a savage that burnished a flayed man on his banners. But it did not. Instead, something more solid, more demanding took its place. “No,” he said simply.

“No?”

“You are mine.”

He slid a hand between them then and found the place she wanted him most, and thanked the gods that his brother had beaten him over the head with bawdy retellings of his own escapades with his wife.

Wylla’s head fell back as he teased at her entrance, a finger dipping in only to retreat a second later. He found that little shock of nerves, working at it gently until she moaned for him, the sound surprisingly husky. She bucked against his hand and he surmised that she wanted more. So he finally took mercy and pierced her with a single finger.

There was something shocking about the tightness of her, and it kept him locked in his body, unable to tear his eyes from her as she writhed. Another finger added, and this time he curled them forward, tearing a groan from her chest. Fumbling hands found his cock and she stroked at him, no real finesse to her touch, but he was so desperate for her that it mattered not at all. All he longed for was to help her find his end, for he knew he would not last once he was inside of her.

His mouth found her breast again and she was so responsive to his touch, wanton even, when he sank his teeth into her, that it spurred him on. Aemond ground the heel of his hand against that spot that made her cry out, two fingers pumping in and out of her at a speed he slowly increased. The flutters around his hand were surprising, grasping at him as if to keep him there, and Wylla lifted her hips, riding him as best she could until she fell apart, panting his name, pulling him up and demanding a kiss as she whimpered.

She glowed beneath him and he could swear that her skin shined with the light of the moon. Had she hidden it beneath her skin, like some myth of old?

The question died in his mind as he pressed inside of her, and the world narrowed to only the places where she touched him. She was hot, scaldingly so, and so tight that he could not stop his eye from rolling back. A pained whimper caught his attention and when he looked down at her, her face was pinched in discomfort. He kissed the line between her brows, stilling until she relaxed. He wanted desperately to be gentle for her, but now that he was inside of her, his ability to cling to that softness was rapidly disappearing.

“I’ll be yours,” she whispered, her fingertips finding the scar that split his face, and he wondered if she felt beautiful in the reflection she saw shining back at her in his sapphire eye.

Those three words rended away his self control and he could not help but pull back, thrusting forward, and he moaned at the delicious friction. Wylla clung to him, her nails raking over his back, and he was surprised at how she matched each roll of his hips, as if even an inch between their bodies was too much.

It was only moments, but time stretched out strange and foreign before him as he fucked her, his face buried in her neck, his teeth catching purchase against her throat.

“Please, please, please.”

It was Wylla murmuring the words and they echoed in his mind, bouncing between the walls of his skull. He knew his end was near, that hot sensation gathering at the base of his spine. Aemond moved to pull back, to spill across her belly, not wanting to assume or risk getting a child on her before he had a chance to plead his case for her hand. But something instinctual in Wylla rose up, and she hooked her leg over his hip, holding him inside of her until he could hold back no longer and came with a groan of her name.

For a long moment, they simply lay there, him sprawled over her, his face against her chest. Wylla’s fingers found his hair, and she combed at the snarls she had tangled therein, the gesture shockingly comfortable for all of its intimacy.

“I warn you, my father is not the most agreeable man.” There was something hard in her voice, something full of resentment.

He looked up at her, resting his chin against his hand where it lay on her belly. “Good then, that I boast the largest and most ancient dragon in the realm.”

Wylla rolled her eyes. “Good then, that you also boast the largest ego in the realm.”

He crawled up her body and kissed her, just a soft press of his lips to hers. “Have I not earned it?”

The girl flushed crimson, a delicious sight. “I suppose,” was all she said, but he took it as confirmation and gathered her into his arms, dropping back against the pillows. A minute twisted in a few and he felt his eyes grow heavy, the fox a warm weight against his chest. Her fingers traced idle patterns over the skin of his stomach as she settled.

There was a sigh, a small shift that pressed her closer.

“Fine,” she huffed, pressing her face against him. “I’ll marry you.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x oc #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fic #aemond x wylla #aemond targaryen x original character #fyeahhotdocs #fyeahgotocs

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