#ladies please tell me if im reaching

[spaceycowboys]

starry eyes sparking up my darkest night

pairing: aemond targaryen x female!tyrell!reader

summary: aemond has only wanted two things in his life. a dragon and to marry the pretty tyrell girl, now he has both. 

warnings: smut, literally almost all smut very little plot, virginity loss, oral sex (female receiving), fingering (female receiving), creampie, breeding kink, light innocence kink, light size kink, use of pet names, blood is mentioned two (2) times, aemond has a huge cock i don’t make the rules, and breeder balls, eye patch gets taken OFF when aemond fucks his lady wife, implied jealousy, implied voyeurism (? just incase?), out of character aemond (?), i think thats all?

notes: i am a whore for a villain. aemond is so hot i love him. this is a side blog, i just didnt want to post on my main blog, im fairly rusty at writing smut, so any and all feedback will be greatly appreciated!! please interact if you see this because i think tumblr hates me:((!! title credits: call it what you want by taylor swift

word count: 5.3k

The wedding had been lovely, truly, but you think everyone could tell your heart wasn’t really in it. Few smiles reached your eyes, and you couldn’t lie that a part of you had felt slightly devasted you were being married in the Dragon Pit in the sight of the Seven, and not the Godswood in Winterfell that you’d come to love during your time in Cregan Stark’s presence many years ago.

You’d thought it was a grand wedding, perhaps too grand for the marriage of a second son, but Aemond is a Prince, so what did you know, besides that and the feeling that the Hand and Queen were trying to sway your father’s loyalty to them when King Viserys joins his late wife, perhaps even go as far as to hope for the favor of your lady mother’s family.

An extravagant weeklong event. Tourneys and hunts and beautiful dinners with lots of dancing. Many lords and ladies had come, many of your friends from childhood present and even your eldest brother. It made the evening feel less lonely for you to be in the presence of people you know so well.

You had been surprised, however, to see the Princess Rhaenyra present with her husband (uncle?) and their children. You heard often of the animosity between the two families, and you were sure she wouldn’t have come. You’d been even more surprised when she had approached you at, a smile on her pretty face.

“Lady Tyrell, you make a most beautiful bride,” She smiles fondly at you.

Aemond tensed next to you, so did the Queen when her next words left her mouth before you could even let out a proper thank you for her compliment, “Though, I must say I am disappointed that your father had not chosen my own son to be your husband. We were heavily in discussion regarding it.”

Your eyebrows furrow as your head turned over in the direction of your father who was seated to your left, “I must say, Princess, I did not know I had many suitors.”

“Why would she want to marry your Strong son, dear sister, when she had better offers?” Aemond spit the words out hatefully at the same time you try to answer her, glaring over her shoulder at the son in question. Jacaerys.

You’d met him on a few occasions, and he was a kind boy. A little closer to your age than your now husband. You didn’t think you knew him well enough to warrant any sort of affections from him, but you suppose that doesn’t matter, since you’d only met Aemond once as children before your father received the letter of the marriage offer from the Hand of the King.

“Aemond,” Alicent had hissed through gritted teeth, “this is a joyous occasion, one you had wanted so desperately. So, please, do not.”

Your now husband huffed out a bitter laugh before grabbing his cup and drowning the rest of his drink. You furrow your eyebrows at her words and look to Aemond slightly confused. He wanted to desperately marry you?

Rhaenyra ignored his comment and stayed looking at you, eyebrows having a slight furrow at your words, “You are a beautiful young woman and you come from one of the great houses, I can promise you that your father was drowning in marriage offers. But I do hope you will be happy here, with my dear brother.”

She walks away before you could say anything, tensing to stop a flinch when Aemond slammed his cup down harshly.

“That fucking cunt. How dare she come over here and say all those things. As if we did not just get married. As if your husband is not sitting right fucking next to you.” He was seething, and it honestly shocked you. You have barely even spoken to him; you really didn’t think he even liked you much.

“Aemond, you will watch your mouth in front of your wife,” Alicent spoke out, slightly baffled that he would say such things in front of you, in front of your family.

Your father is tense next to you, and you place your hand on his own and squeeze. This can’t be that bad. You can endure it.

As you look at Aemond, you can’t help but wonder if he will even be so bad. As if he can hear your thoughts, his hand moves to rest tenderly on your own.

The rest of the evening blurs together until Aegon stumbled his way over to where you were seated, “I believe we should be approaching the bedding ceremony soon, dear brother?”

And though his words had been directed at your husband, you felt his lust and drunk eyes on you. The mention of the bedding ceremony had you tense, and Aegon’s eyes don’t do anything to soothe your nerves.

“There will be no bedding ceremony.” Aemond spoke without a waver in his voice. What?

Aegon’s head snapped towards his brother, “And why the fuck not? It’s tradition.”

Aemond hummed, unamused, “I will not make a spectacle of my lady wife.” His words make your heart soften slightly

“She will not be your lady wife for long if there is no proof.” Aegon tried not to sound as desperate as he felt.

“There will be blood on my sheets come morning and a babe in her belly,” Aemond spoke as he stood up, towering over his older brother before he moved his face close enough to where no one, except you- much to your embarrassment, “though I do suppose if you are that concerned, you may stand outside my quarters and listen for the confirmation that my marriage has been consummated.”

Aemond takes your hand and pulls you from the room after that, moving quickly as if attempting not to be noticed.

“Why are we not doing the bedding ceremony? Is it not tradition? Will we not get in trouble?” Your voice is slightly panicked at the idea of getting in trouble for not doing what you are supposed to do, causing him to stop outside the door of his chambers and look at you.

“I would not feel like a very good husband if there were a bunch of old men with greedy eyes seeing your bare body before I got to see it,” He looks serious, and he sounds it as well. Though his voice lowers slightly into a possessive tone when the next words come out, “I also would not like anyone to see it after I do.”

                                                        εїз

Large hands take the many pins out of your hair before gently starting to unknot and remove the many intricate braids the servant girls spent hours doing not long ago. It feels like a waste, makes you feel as if you are a spectacle for viewing and gawking at only.

Which you suppose you are- if you were being honest with yourself. You’d been lucky to inherit not only your mother’s beauty, but as well as the charm that all the women from your lord fathers house seem to have.

You wonder why he insisted that the handmaiden leave, from what your mother told you it was typical of them to prepare you for the upcoming moments.

Your hair is abandoned for the strings at the back of your dress once Aemond has removed all the braids. The air is cold on your back and your hands are shaking when his own move to touch your bare skin in a way that no one else has. One hand is on the nape rubbing in an almost affectionate way as the other moves to pull the extravagant gown from your body.

You didn’t think you could get anymore tense than you already were, until your wedding dress dropped from your body unceremoniously onto the cold ground.

Goosebumps cover your body as you’re fully exposed to the cold air, despite the fire going in the fireplace. His hands move to map your body, starting at your shoulders and slowly moving down to your hips.

His lips on your neck causes you to gasp in surprise, your belly warming at the feeling of not only his lips on you but his hands on your hips, squeezing softly at the skin and biting back a grown when the reach your ass.

His mouth moves from your neck to your shoulders, leaving wet, open mouthed kisses on your skin as he makes his way down your back. You close your eyes at the unfamiliar feeling stirring inside you, a surprised gasp escaping you when a dull bite lands on your hip.

You feel his smile against your skin as he does the same to your other hip before he stands up to make his way around your body.

He stands in front of you, fully clothed still despite having taken off all of your clothing, leaving you bare for him to feast upon with his eye.

Aemond’s hands are calloused and rough, you assume from years of sword training and dragon riding, as they caress your face. His bright eye locked on yours, watching for any reactions. Thumbs trace under your eyes, over your nose, and your lips.

“Have you ever been touched this way?” His voice is quiet as his hands move down your neck towards your collarbones.

“No, my Prince,” Your voice pitches up at the end when his mouth finds your neck again, his teeth piercing your skin again.

“Not even your own hands?” His tone is serious but the smirk you feel against your skin lets you know he’s teasing.

You feel your face heat up at his implication. “No. Never.”

Aemond lets out a pleased hum at your words, soft voice stirring something primal in him.

His mouth is on yours before you can think of something else to say. His lips are a little dry, something you didn’t notice when he kissed you earlier at the wedding. One hand grips your hip as the other tangles into your hair, tugging lightly causing you to gasp. He takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

It’s an unfamiliar feeling, all of it is, though. You’re overwhelmed and throbbing at your core.

Can he hear your heartbeat as well as you can? It’s pounding in your ears along with a rush of heat that takes over your whole body.

His tongue coaxes yours to move against it, and you wonder if this is how it’s supposed to feel. If you’re supposed to feel this good. Are you even allowed to feel this good? Your handmaiden had told you on many occasions      that men only cared for their own pleasure, and you would be feeling a lot of pain. This didn’t feel like anything she described.

Aemond pulls his mouth from yours and looks at you with a hooded eye, pupil so blown you can’t see the blue of it. There’s a light flush on his cheeks as he looks at your swollen lips.

“You are quite beautiful, my lady.” It’s said so quietly, you wonder if it was supposed to be a secret. You’d like to know all his secrets, you think.

When you don’t respond, his mouth attaches itself to your neck. A sharp pain if him biting is followed by a light sucking as if to soothe it.

You aren’t sure where to put your hands, they’ve stayed at your side due to your shyness and uncertainty.

“Have you been with many women?” The question leaves your mouth before your mind even processes that you’ve asked it.

His mouth stops moving against your skin as your blood runs cold, shaking, and wide eyed when he pulls away to look at you.

Sharpe eye studies your features, like a lion about to eat a lamb. Or, perhaps, a dragon ready to burn a rose.

He steps back, taking your hand as he sighs and looks away from you in, shame?

“When I was thirteen, Aegon took me to a brothel. Told me it was time to get it wet,”

You grimace at his word choice, but when you see how he’s looking at you, you squeeze his hand.

“To put it lightly, my dear lady, it was not a very nice experience. I have been with very few women since,”

Shame fills you at his words, and before he can continue you speak quickly, “I am so sorry, I did not mean to push you into speaking about an event you-“

His hands are back on your face, holding your cheeks, “You are my wife.” It’s a statement, and his words come out slightly harsh, “You are entitled to every piece of me. I will tell you everything you wish to know about me,”

His kiss is full of fire this time, claiming your lips with such an intensity. His body is pressed full against yours; you can feel his toned chest through his shirt. The fabric is soft against your chest, and as if they have a mind of their own, your hands start grasping at them hem of it desperately.

“Aemond,” It’s the first time you’ve spoken his name that way, he likes the way it sounds. Desperate, needy. Maybe he just likes that it comes from you.

Aemond was nine the first time he saw you, still had both eyes back then. You’d been visiting the Keep with your father. The King wanted updates about something, Aemond didn’t know or care what it was. All he knew was that you were the prettiest girl he’d ever seen.

You had such grace and were so kind. Helaena didn’t have many friends at court due to her fascination with insects. But you held all the creepy crawlers she held out to you, spent the day reading to her so she didn’t have to pull herself away from the bugs.

You were younger than him, but he didn’t care. He liked the way your voice sounded as you read to Helaena, how you laughed when she would whisper out name ideas for her bugs and then look to you to see if the name suited the bug, how you smiled at him when you would catch him sitting just far enough to not be seen but to hear.

You left with your father, and then a year later he heard a servant that you’d been taken to Winterfell to see how you’d pair with Cregan Stark.

After he lost his eye, he told his mother it was a fair trade, and that he’d gotten Vhagar in return, so it didn’t matter. But after he heard Rhaenyra speak of you to Daemon, of her hopes to marry you to Jace, he back tracked.

When they returned to King’s Landing from Driftmark, he told his mother he felt like he deserved to choose his future bride- and that he would want you in return for his lost eye. Truly the rest was history; she brought the request to Viserys stating that it was the least he could be given after what was taken from him.

Viserys allowed it but stated that it would have to be on your father’s terms on when and how if he agreed. It was no surprise that he did agree, though. Lord Tyrell is a proud man and agreed after a few years of discussion and persuasion.

“My lady,” Your thighs involuntarily press together at the way he says it, like he owns you; and he does.

He smirks at the way your body reacts to him just speaking, “May I touch you?”

You moan and breathe out a whine, “If you’d like,”

He pulls away from you just enough to remove the shirt from his body, and then he grabs your hands and places them on his chest.

“I’d like it if you would touch me as well,” His request comes out confident, almost like a demand. Almost everything he says causes more and more heat to flood your body and your lower stomach.

Your shy hands trace over the whole expanse of his chest, rubbing, squeezing, light scratching. Your eyes stay on his face, drinking in every reaction. The way he opens his mouth and lets out a breathy gasp, how his eye closes, and head goes back when you scratch lightly over his pectoral muscles.

With a sudden surge of confidence, you slowly move closer and place a light kiss on his neck. A quiet groan leaves his mouth in response, and you take it as encouragement to continue. A hand moves to your head, lightly holding the back of your neck in place as you suck and bite as he did to you.

You don’t register that he’s been moving you backwards until your knees hit the bed, causing you to gasp and pull away.

Both his hands are back on your face as he slowly lowers you so you’re lying flat, you go to question him when he doesn’t join you, but to your confusion he moves to his knees between your legs.

“What are you-“ The question dies on your tongue when you feel his hands move up your thighs and close to your core.

This is definitely not normal. You’ve never heard of this being part of any bedding. In a panic your hands rush to his face as it gets closer to your core, “What are you doing?”

His eye finds yours and studies your face before smirking, “Just lay back and let me make you feel good, wife.”

Before you can respond you feel his tongue on you, no- in you.

“Oh, gods.”

It’s really unlike anything you’ve ever felt, it’s nearly overwhelming. All you can feel is him. His hands on your inner thighs holding you open for him, his fingers gripping so hard they’re surely leaving bruises, his tongue, gods his tongue.

A finger lightly traces at your entrance, teasingly. The finger makes its way inside you as he sucks on your clit.

“Aemond,” He pulls away at his name leaving your mouth, eye finding you with your head back and hands clutching the bedding at your sides so tightly your knuckles are turning white.

His free hand reaches for one of your own, intertwining your fingers, eye not leaving your face as he adds another inside you, scissoring the two of them lightly while his thumb rubs circles on your clit.

“Do you feel good?” His tone is slightly cocky, but when your eyes look at his face, you see he looks slightly shy.

Before you can respond, his fingers curl inside you and you’re eyes are squeezing shut as a sharp whine leaves your mouth. He hums thoughtfully at your reaction before doing the same thing again, again, again until.

“Oh, please, please, please,” Your nails are digging into his skin, so hard it may be drawing blood, and your thighs begin shaking by his head when his mouth finds your clit again. His fingers don’t falter inside you until your voice pitches up due to the overstimulation.

You finally open your eyes and watch as he sticks the two fingers that had just been inside you into his mouth before looking at you with a smirk as he leans his head back down to lick from the bottom of your cunt back up to your clit.

Wheezing, your thighs move to close themselves as both your hands reach for his head to push him away from you.

Aemond lets out a laugh as he pulls away from your cunt and crawls up your body. Big arms cage you in as he looks at you with something akin to adoration.

“You taste so good,” He says it in such an attractive manner, you’ve never though any words like that would sound so good coming from someone’s mouth. “Would you like to try it?”

You flush at his words, embarrassment filling you before you nod shyly. His smirk deepens as he presses his mouth to yours.

You moan at the feeling of his mouth back on your own, gasping when his hands places itself on your breasts and tweaks with your nipples, and Aemond takes the opportunity to shove his tongue in your mouth when you do.

The taste is slightly sweet, slightly bitter. Tangy, would be a better word, maybe like a Dornish wine or an orange. His cock is straining in his pants as he presses himself up against your cunt, the size takes you by surprise. It feels large, much bigger than his fingers and much too big to fit inside you, but between the feeling of his hands on your breasts, the heat coming off of his bare chest where your hands dig into his shoulders, and the taste of yourself on his mouth as his tongue maps out the inside of your mouth.

A surge of boldness fills you and you remove a hand from one of his shoulders and reach between the two of you, grabbing lightly and unsurely at his cock. The action causes him to pull away from you as a surprised moan leaves his mouth.

There’s a fire in his eye as he looks at you, watching you as you look up with him with uncertain yet shining eyes at everything you’re feeling for the very first time. At his hands no less.

A smirk crawls it’s way back on it’s face, “Do you want to make me feel good, little wife?”

“Yes,” Your answer causes him to let out a pleased hum, but to your confusion he pulls your hand away from his cock.

“Next time I’ll teach you how to please me the way I did you. I don’t want to overwhelm you this time,” His eye holds tenderness as he says the sweet words that light your body on fire.

“This is not how I expected tonight to go,” Your shy words cause a sympathetic smile to show on his features.

“Many husbands don’t care for their wife’s pleasure,” His hands are untying the laces on his pants as he moves up from the bed to strip himself of them. Pride fills him when your eyes widen at the site of his cock.

It’s long and thick, it sits hard and proud up against his stomach, almost hitting his naval. It’s as pale as the rest of him, slightly red at the tip. A bead of precum drips from the tip and down his shaft, your eyes follow it to his balls. There also big, no surprise. The hair so pale that if there is any, you can’t see it. They look heavy, almost uncomfortable.

“Does it hurt?” The question spills out of your mouth, and Aemond wants to laugh until he sees how serious you are.

“No, it’s just uncomfortable,” You’re wide eyes find his face again, another question that almost makes him laugh.

“Will it fit inside me?” You really don’t think it will, or if it does, it’ll be in your stomach. The though makes you nervous.

“We’ll go slow, if you’d like,” He crawls back on top of you, hands finding your thighs so he can fit his body in between them.

His cock is hot against the skin of your thigh, the tip lightly brushes your folds causing you to shiver. His hand grabs at the base of his cock, guiding the tip from your clit to your hole, then back up. Little gasps leave you every time it bumps against your clit or catches on your tight hole.

Aemond holds a lot of restraint, but he can only hold so much, “I’m going to put it in now,”

He looks to you for you to consent, but tenses when your hands shyly reach up at the leather straps of the patch covering his eye.

“Can you take this off?” Your eyes hold no fear, just slight uncertainty.

His face doesn’t change at all, “I’d rather not scare you-“

“I am bare before you, as your wife. You could be bare for me as my husband, as well.” You’re voice doesn’t shake at all, for the first time all evening, he notes.

With a sigh, he takes his hand from your thigh and closes his eye as he takes the patch off. He doesn’t want to see your inevitable reaction of fear or disgust before you turn over and have him take you from behind.

Aemond flinches when he feels your hand tracing his scar, from his forehead, over the sapphire in place of where his eye should be, down to where it ends.

He hears you take in a shaky breath before your mouth is diving up towards his, and for the first time all evening you’ve taken control of something. He enjoys it, the way your tongue forces its way into his mouth.

He kisses you back with the same amount of energy, sucking on your tongue and nipping at your lips until you pull away. His eye studies you, the lust filled look in your eyes and flush covering you with swollen, wet lips.

“You may take me now, Aemond,” The words are but a whisper, but he hears you clearly.

His cock is, now, painfully hard as he nods and tightens his grip so he can carefully guide himself inside you.

He hisses though his teeth at the feeling of your cunt, slick and warm and tight, enveloping his cock. You’re the tightest thing he’s ever felt.

An animalistic feeling nearly overcomes him. He feels a primal need to shove his cock all the way inside you, rip through your maidenhead and fuck you full of him. He want to see your blood on his cock as he thrust inside you, fill you full of him, fuck you so hard there’s no questioning if his seed took tonight.

The feeling is slightly different for you. The stretch is uncomfortable, and it stings slightly, it causes you to feel so full you may burst or overfill. He goes slow, like he promised, but you can feel his body shaking above you as he restrains himself from taking you like an animal.

When he reaches the barrier of your maidenhead, he halts, “I have to push a little harder, here,”

A flash of fear flashes through your eyes for a brief moment before you nod for him to continue.

With a shaky exhale, he pulls back slightly and then pushes forward sharply, a little too sharply. Because the next thing he knows you’ve got tears streaming down your face and his pelvis is flush with yours. It’s hot and so, so tight. It, you, feel so fucking good.

His mouth is hanging open slightly as he breathes heavily, trying to gain control over himself. When he looks down at you, he feels guilt coarse through him.

“Oh, fuck, I’m so sorry,” You take not that while his voice doesn’t sound sorry, his eye shows that he is. Hands reach for your cheeks so he can wipe the tears that have been falling from your eyes away.

You remove an arm from around his shoulder and move your hand to grip at a wrist that is by your face, “It’s okay-“

His voice is strained, “Oh, fuck, it’s not. I told you we would go slow,”

His eye holds guilt, but you can’t help but notice how beautiful he looks above you. No eye patch covering his features, his hair, though still pulled back, slightly messy, sharp facial features gleaming in the moonlight and the light from the fire.

He thinks you look unreal. Hair, still slightly curled, sits around you beautifully, eyes are gleaming with stars in the despite the tears from the pain still lingering, lips bruised and swollen from his own mouth.

“You can move now,” He looks unsure at your words and goes to speak his protests, but you interrupt. “Take me, husband.”

He obliges to your demand, pulling his hips back before pushing them forward. He goes slow at first, in and out at a steady rhythm, relishing in the moans and gasps and whines that leave your mouth, the chants of his name Aemond, Aemond, Aemond.

He dips his head to kiss your cheeks, down your jaw and latches onto your neck, sucking bruises into your skin as he starts thrusting deeper, harder. His pelvis grinds against your clit, and between that sensation, the pace of his thrusts when his cock hits the same spot his fingers found earlier and up to your cervix, his mouth on your neck, it doesn’t take long for your cunt to start clenching on his cock harder.

A deep groan leaves him at the way your cunt grips his cock, sucking him in and trying to keep him there forever. He would gladly stay inside you forever.

He pulls away from your neck to look at you, wanting to look at your face as you cum around his cock, as you feel his cum inside you.

Your eyes are rolled back so far he can only see the whites of them, bruises litter your collarbones and neck, marks of him all over you. Your nipples are hard and brush against his chest as your back arches while you lose yourself in the pleasure.

His balls tighten up more the longer he looks at you, and he moves his thumb to your clit, pushing you over the edge after one, two, three circles over it.

“Aemond!” Your voice sounds heavenly when you moan his name. His hips don’t falter their pace nor does his thumb stop rubbing until your cunt has loosened its vice grip on his cock. He fucks you through your orgasm and through the aftershocks before he grabs one of your legs.

You’re still shaking from your orgasm when you feel him lift your leg up and over his arm and onto his shoulder before he’s leaning over you. Your eyes shoot open at the newer, deeper angle.

“I don’t think-“

Before the sentence can leave your mouth, his hips pick up a pace very unlike the one you had just grown accustomed to. Your eyes cross as your hands shot up to his shoulders, trying to push him away and stop the overstimulation.

His head is thrown back in deep pleasure, groans and low moans of your name leaving his mouth as he listens to the wet slap, slap, slap of his body meeting yours. His pace picks up and becomes less rhythmic as his orgasm hits him.

You cry out his name with tears running down your face as your cunt clenches down for a third time, squeezing him so tightly that all he can do is push all the way in and let his cum flood you. His hips lightly move back and forth, fucking himself and you through your orgasms as you feel his cum fill you so much it starts slipping out around his cock and down your ass.              

He stays inside you as your shake in the aftermath, feeling sweaty and sticky as he presses his cheek against your own, breathing you in and just feeling you for a while before he finally pull back just enough to look at you. Bodies still pressed together, cunt still plugged with his cock to hold his cum in, to make sure it takes. To make sure his son is filling you.

His eye is holding yours in a stare, and a soft smile takes over his face as you smile up at him tiredly. He feels something warm ignite in his chest as you look at him, the glow of the orgasm, the smile on your face, a sparkle in your eyes that looks like stars.

Aemond presses his mouth to yours before you can say anything. He wonders to himself if he can light your world up the way you’re already doing his.

#aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #hotd x y/n #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon x y/n #aemond imagine #aemond smut #house of the dragon smut #hotd smut #aemond x reader smut

[kpopnstarwars]

NO NEED FOR ME TO HIDE🙏🏾🙏🏾

Bestie, are you going to continue Atonement universe?🥺 I am very curious on how their interactions could look like in the future, now that they have an accurate understanding of their intents

A/N: U ASKED JUST THE RIGHT QUESTION MY FAVOURITE BUNNY, but bc im evil i've made this into a bunch of feyd headcanons even tho no one asked

tw: 18+, smut headcanons (switch feyd ladies and gents), cannibalism (by the harpies), i dropkick everyone with feyd's trauma, therefore mentions of sa and pedophilia (fuck you vladimir), 'who did this to you' because man if that's not one of the yummiest things ever, nightmares, children and pregnancy, also infertility, swearing somewhere probably,

wc: 2.3k

part 1 (this can be read as a stand alone, it's just feyd headcanons)

feyd does everything he can to make up for how he treated you in the first months of your marriage

you assure him that it's fine, that he doesn't have to beat himself up over what he has done, but you still notice the pain in his eyes when he looks at you

he hovers close to you at all times, keeping a hand at the small of your back or pulling you close into his side

it's a strange process, only getting to know your husband in the fourth month of your marriage, but it's a process that you treasure

you'll ask him silly things from his favourite food to his opinions on the carvings on the table over there whenever the questions occur to you

it's late at night, while he's gently cleaning you up after sex or holding you tightly in his arms, your head tucked under his chin, when he tells you the deeper, more painful things

the grief in his voice is so raw as he describes to you how his uncle pitted him and rabban against each other from a young age, how his childhood was stolen from him - you ache for him, for the things that were taken from him before he could even fight for them

you find out about his nightmares soon after that - not because he tells you, but because one happens

you suspect there was something he wasn't quite ready to tell you, but you didn't press; no hands have handled feyd's heart the way he lets you, and you're determined to honour that privilege

a storm howls outside, and you think that the rumbles of thunder were what woke you

you turn over and realise it's feyd, his features contorted with fear even in his sleep, eyes rolling under the lids as he trembles, broken pleas leaving his lips

all you catch is a 'don't' and a 'please, uncle'

something cold slithers down your spine

touching his face, you grab his shoulder, shaking him, whispering his name, trying to wake him gently

a tear leaks down his cheek, and a meek sound leaves him, ripping your heart in two - you need to wake him up, free him from this dream

'feyd.'

his eyes snap open, and in them, you clearly see the expression of a trapped, cornered animal

you say his name again, and he looks at you sharply, unseeing

he's awake and yet somehow he's still trapped in the nightmare; he wraps his hands around your throat, and you gasp, nails digging into his forearms in an effort to wake him up

with precious air, you rasp out his name again, and he blinks, slowly gaining consciousness

his face crumples when he finds his hands around your neck

distress limns his features as he backs away from you, shaking his head, horrified by his own doing

your head spins with lack of air but you reach out to him, refusing to let him slip away - you snare him in your arms, hold him tightly, kiss his face

he doesn't move, afraid to hurt you

you pull back to stare him in the eyes

'i'm okay. i am okay. you hear me, feyd? i'm fine. i'm not hurt.'

he buries his face in your shoulder and when you feel hot tears on your skin, rage simmers and seethes, wrathful in your chest

'who did this to you?'

your voice is dripping with fury; he shakes with a sob, and you run your hands up and down his back, trying to soothe him and the anger inside you

eventually, he calms, and you tilt his face up, gently wiping the tears off his cheeks, waiting

he holds out his arms again, and you oblige him, letting him hide his face in your shoulder as he tells you the substances of his nightmares - memories of the baron, eyes rabid, hands reaching, and it makes you tremble with rage

you crush feyd in your grip, and he clings onto you, his eyes wet, letting you anchor his drowning spirit

the two of you fall asleep twined together, feyd cradled in your embrace

in the morning, you cup his face in your hands and tell him that you will protect him, fight for him, love him until your blood stills in your veins

one of the first thing feyd does is dismiss his harpies from their duties

originally, he was going to get rid of them permanently, but you convinced him not to, telling him you wanted to meet them

to be honest, feyd didn't really understand (he thought you wanted to 'use' them for a bit and was kind of taken aback until you reassured him you just wanted to talk to them)

he stayed in the room anyways, knowing that his harpies could be jealous, but he had nothing to fear

all you do is chat to them, and in the same way you charmed him, you charm them

feyd marvels at the way you reach out to them and connect with them with so much ease, laughing and joking with them, complimenting their pretty eyes and tattoos as if they are your long time friends

from then on, they are no longer feyd's harpies, but yours

they accompany you around the palace and sometimes to court

the latter causes quite a stir; none of the nobles can make sense of why the na-baron's feral cannibal troupe are now dressed in fine clothing and following the na-baronness around

you enjoy their company - they brighten your day considerably, and are not afraid to make remarks a little too loudly in front of nobles

you have to hide your laughter when one of them comments on the scruffy facial hair of the duke addressing feyd, even more so when he stares at them wide eyed, a little fearful of them

in a way, they protect you and you protect them

if a noble approaches you with disrespect, they'll joke loudly among themselves about the taste of his flesh

in the same way, if someone makes a snide remark of their presence, you're quick to challenge it

the perplexed look on feyd's face amuses you to no end when he realises they prefer you now

feyd and the harpies teach you about harkonnen culture

feyd especially tells you stories about how he hunted on forests long cut down when he was a boy, and you love to listen to him, watching his face and drinking in the softer, nostalgic tone in his voice

he shows himself to you in little ways

feyd complains to you about the nobles in the court, how he hates their decorum and their entitlement

he talks to you for hours about different fighting forms, occasionally getting up to demonstrate them to you, and you marvel at the accuracy and fluidity of his movements

he takes you to his favourite parts of giedi prime, shows you the volcanoes and the less polluted parts of the capital city

he tells you the story of every scar on his body, and you find yourself captivated by the look in his eyes as he recalls a good fight

he whispers on your skin promises - promises of love, sweet on his tongue but never cloying, always true

in turn he asks you about your old life, about your home planet and your family

you answer happily, loving the way his eyes follow you, their blue tone becoming your favourite colour

you tell him about the time you visited to see him fight, how you saw the fire within him even then, and he chuckles, enthralled by the idea that even when the two of you were too young to really comprehend what your arranged marriage meant, you were still drawn to each other

he tells you how when he raised his knife, victorious, he spotted you in the crowd - a small girl, her back ram rod straight - and thought you were the sweetest thing he'd ever laid his eyes on

not that you seemed breakable to him; no, he thought you were formidable, too, not even bothering to hide your frown in an arena of cheering, happy faces

it felt right that he would marry a woman who wasn't afraid of him

feyd teaches you how to fight

he delights in the way you grow so bold with him, delivering snarky remarks if he teases you, rising to meet everything he throws at you

you're a good fighter - unpredictable in your moves - and he's immeasurably proud that he was the one who taught you

sometimes, once you're good enough to duel, you'll end up staggering to the nearest somewhat secluded area to fuck

now that you know you're not alone, you're so confident of yourself, confident in the electrifying look in your eyes and confident in the way you make him beg

feyd never thought he'd like to give up control, but with you it's addicting

he trusts you

he lets you ravage him, lets you use him until he's spent, panting, thighs shaking, knowing that you would let him do the same - knowing that you do let him do the same

there's something so raw about letting himself go in your touch

his head spins when you tie him up, your deft fingers checking the knots and tightening the bindings across his torso, making art with his skin as the canvas

feyd is addicted to you in every aspect

he can't get enough of your pussy; he'd spend hours between your legs, pulling sounds out of you that you didn't know you could make

he thinks that the closest he's ever come to heaven is when he's buried balls deep in your cunt while you beg him harder, faster

A/N: i couldn't choose between these two scenarios so have both

EITHER after almost a year, you begin to wonder why you haven't pregnant

especially with the way feyd fucks you

so you seek the help of a doctor - the test results come back a week after, accusatory, damning

you're sterile

your first reaction is to tell feyd, but once you find yourself face to face with him, his gaze concerned as he holds your waist, you can't tell him

you just fall into his arms, staying your tears, doubts crawling into your skull and gnawing at the edges of your mind

you can't give him an heir

there's no way around it

what if he takes a concubine? what if he realises you serve no purpose to him? what if he stops loving you?

feyd doesn't pry about the tests results until the next day when he finds you in the shower, hands trembling and head bowed

he tips your chin up so he can look you in the eye

'tell me what troubles you, my love.'

so you do, with his fingers curled around your waist, the shower water running over your skin

he kisses you once you finish, and it tears at his heart the way you're looking up at him, trying to hide the worry in your eyes as you wait for his reply

feyd doesn't mince his words when he tells you that he doesn't care if you cannot give him an heir, that all he asks of you is to let him love you - it's then that the tears fall, and he kisses them away, holding you close to him

you grieve for the children you can never have, but feyd remains by you, almost supernatural with the way he senses your pain

your gaze might fall upon one of the servant's children, causing an ache in your heart, and within a few seconds his fingers will twine with yours and he'll tuck you into his side, kissing your hair

OR you have twins: one girl, one boy

the girl is three minutes older than the boy

feyd is obssessed with your pregnant body; he always has his hands on you in some way

he gets more protective, if that's possible

sometimes he lies between your thighs, his palms spread over your stomach as he talks to the two of them, and the softness and wonder in his eyes brings a warmth to your chest

feyd is with you when you feel the first contraction and promptly carries you to the midwives

he lets you crush his hand in your grip as you give birth to the lives you've made together, wiping the sweat off your forehead and quietly encouraging you

the first time you hand them to him to hold, he's hesitant, hands fluttering over you as he figures out what to do, but he's a fast learner

there's a fierce protective glint in his eyes when he cradles them in his arms, one that you glimpse when he looks at you too, and within it there's a deep, pure joy

he teaches them how to fight, and yet he's still so gentle with them, laughing as they giggle and cling to him, one latched onto each leg

the girl is how you'd imagine feyd was as a boy: half feral, yet charming when she wants to be, while the boy is a little calmer, more unflappable, and happy to entertain his sister's mischievous endeavours

both love the harpies, and there have been multiple times when you walk in on the twins gaping wide eyed at the harpies as they regale them with old tales

sometimes, feyd will scoop them up, one in each arm, so they can reach up and give you a little kiss on the cheek before he pecks your lips

you think it's beautiful, the family that you've made with him

feyd loves the way you look at him, with that mischief in your eyes, as if you're sharing a secret with him

he loves your sweet laughter, the softness in your hands when you touch him and how you don't shy away from protecting him, defiant even in his uncle's presence

he knows he would kill for you, die for you - he'd do anything for you

you would do the same: it makes feyd's head fuzzy, when you get so fiercely protective over him, placing your hand on his shoulder as you glare at the baron, lacing your words with venom when you address him

you'd stop at nothing, just to protect his honour

when you're after something, nothing stands in your way, and yet you can handle him with such soft, gentle hands, banishing his nightmares with the light tracing of your fingertips on his back

feyd heals in your presence, and you grow in his

your love is eternal

#bald freak supremacy #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #austin butler #dune #dune two #dune part two #dune 2 #dune part 2 #dune ii #dune part ii #feyd rautha fic #feyd rautha fanfiction #feyd-rautha #dune fanfiction #dune smut #atreides #house harkonnen #feyd rautha x reader #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha x you #dune x you #feyd oneshot #feyd x y/n #dune x y/n #feyd angst #feyd fluff

[ravengards-rogue]

WHAT SET YOU FREE, BROUGHT YOU TO ME BABY.

rdr2 men + short blurbs about their favorite sex positions.

ft. arthur morgan, john marston, javier escuella, and charles smith.

✧ tags : SPOILER HEAVY, fem + afab!reader, unprotected sex, light angst (in the horny post is crazy im sorry fdkjjkds), very gendered language, javier says one thing in spanish (thank u @nanamimizz), a little sprinkle of plot with each (and some canon divergency), john co-parents w abigail, otherwise just horny. 18+

✧ wc : about 1.4-8k each (6.3k total)

✧ a/n : sorry for making a multi character post for the cowboy game its cooking me to death. my john bias is showing rip. title is from rebel yell by billy idol but i listen to the bvb cover

sorry about charles and javiers but if i edit this anymore im going to level an entire city using hollow purple technique. please rb if you enjoyed i worked kind of hard on whatever this is.

sorry for . the THIRD repost of this i promise i wont after this. its just really bugging me. PLEASE

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ ARTHUR MORGAN + PRONE BONE ; 

It’s an odd feelin’ for Arthur. 

Wanting something, he means. Wanting anything as much as he wants you. He’s lived a less than quiet life up until now. And he ain’t the brightest, certainly, but living this kind of life teaches you many lessons. One of them being, it’s better not to covet anything. Coveting something you’re not entitled to, well—it’ll lead you places you wouldn’t want to go with a gun. 

Arthur has made the mistake of coveting love before, dreamed of a future so completely out of his reach he almost convinced himself it was possible. Dreamed of it so foolishly he’d even go visit a woman he very well ought to forget. It’s his problem, his burden to bear - always desiring outcomes unsuited to him. 

He’s just that sort of man he reckons. But he learned his lesson. He tries (tried?) to stay away from it after that. Tried not to pine too much for normalcy when such hopes had failed him twice. The loss of his child completely on his account and the loss of his love at the same fate. 

So, wanting you - well, he feels like the world's dullest fool. Really. How is it that Arthur had fallen in love with someone again? It had all just happened so quickly. You were another woman he’d saved from the O’Driscolls, though it wasn’t like you were no damsel. A lot of those men were dead by the time they arrived. That sort of perseverance would stick with you while you traveled together. Much like Sadie, you didn’t take well to housework - you liked to earn your keep. Though you’re not nearly so trigger happy. 

You’re quiet, thoughtful, well-read. Plus you’re good at making money. That’s why Dutch don't complain about you joining them, he figures. 

(Arthur tries not to pry into it too much at first, but he eventually learns that you’re gambling. Which is how you’re able to make such a fast turn around. A prim little lady like you makes for a fine poker player, and you love to play men out of their money. He thinks it’s one of the funniest and most interesting things about you. He can’t help but love you a little more for it. )

When the feelings in him start to stir, Arthur tries to overlook it. Arthur convinces himself, time and time again - that there’s no way he’ll grow more tender about you. Eventually, it’ll die down. You’re a decent woman is all, a kind one - who’s easy for him to love and even easier for him to confide in. In your time together, you often come to Arthur and you always seem to have some profound wisdom he is so sorely lacking. Someone easy to love, who does not expect much from Arthur at all. It’s only natural a lonely, covetous man like him would start to dream about you. He tells himself, it will pass eventually. Should he simply let it run by him, it will pass. But Arthurs a fool, you’ll remember. 

 Of course, by the time he understood all that - he already loved you enough that he couldn’t bear it. It was already too late and it wasn’t going to change any time soon. Especially not while everything changed around him. 

So, Arthur is undoubtedly a fool, but he’s lucky. He felt divinely blessed when you’d returned his feelings for him so politely. A coy little smile on your face, a laugh like you thought he was silly for being doubtful. Arthur tried to explain himself but you wouldn’t hear a word of it. Maybe that’s another thing he loves so much about you. There’s nothing he ever needs to explain. 

In any case, all Arthur seems to do lately is want you. Wants you when it’s inconvenient. Wants you before he wants liquor or a cigarette or some other vice. Any time anything goes wrong, you’re the first thing his mind can conjure up for relief. That pretty smile and that self-assured way of living. It’s hard to get time alone in camp. And Arthur is a man in love, so any touch could be enough to set him on fire. Last week you hugged his waist a little before giving him a kiss goodbye and he had to listen to you laugh yourself into a fit as he waited for…little Arthur to settle down. 

He don’t get many chances to be with you. Lay with you in that way that grown folk in love do. Though, if the two of you book it somewhere for a few days - the camp knows better not to ask where you’ve been. But it’s not often you get to really be together, where it’s peaceful to do that. Someone’s always hounding one of you to do something. 

Arthur is a lucky man though, like he said. Today he had time. Today he’s alone with you in a beat up little saloon and today he gets to do as he likes. He gets to be greedy. And it’s an odd feeling for him, really, to want something so bad he disregards everything else in the world for a little while. 

Feeling you, though - absolves the guilt for wanting. He’d be stupid to want you any less desperately. 

Arthur’s favorite way to have you is on your stomach. Laid flat, just barely pushed up against him as he fucks you deep. You’ll fuck like rabbits for a little while and Arthur will wear you out just like this, maneuvering you until you’re pinned all underneath his weight. You lose any fight you might have, too exhausted to worry yourself with pleasing him - and when you’re like that, you let Arthur take care of you. 

(He really ain’t talented at much, but he’s good with his hands. Being dexterous is part of being a talented shot. When Arthur has the time to spread you sweet in his lap and make you cum all over his fingers, he does so for as long as he can. At least until you beg him so sweetly otherwise. The same hands, soiled with gunsmoke, look so good so deep in you. At least in his eyes.)

Wet and pliable and helpless. Arthur loves you like that. He knows, he knows you’re anything but - but he’d be damned to pretend this don’t feel best. Tight, wet cunt so welcoming from all the pleasure he’s ripped out of you. Your bodies pressed together, your heartbeat pulsing through your skin. All sticky, honeyed need and animal desire as Arthur lets all of him sink on top of you. His heavy, lumbering form crushing you in - trapping you somewhere you can’t run from him. The curve of your spine pushed against his chest, ticklish. 

Every inch of his body that so wholly wants for you, Arthur aches to make you feel. Burn it in you lest anything happens that risks your forgetting. 

He can feel his hips meet your ass, backside squished against him - desperate for deeper friction. Whining. You’re whining to him so pretty, a pillow pushed underneath you to give friction to needy clit. 

Arthur can feel how much you want more. Maybe Arthur is greedy, but he likes that look much better on you. Your pussy is sucking him in so tight, silken walls pulsing with every shallow little measured thrust. Arthur lets his arm wrap around your neck, your face pressing into his bicep. You moan again and he laughs. 

“Arthur,” Your words come out in a messy slur. He lets his scruffy face press against your neck, a kiss behind your ear. He wants to kiss you all over. There’s not enough hours in the day. “Oh, god, Arthur,” 

“Still feels good, then, I’m guessin’,” 

“Shut up,” You huff and press your cheek into his arm. He doesn’t bother stifling his laugh. “Still feels…big. Stretchin’ me out—hicc—so much,” 

You really don’t try to rile him up - but you do a damn good job of it anyway. He groans, grunts as he pulls back and pistons himself in you. A gesture half-way between a kiss and the warning shot of a gun. The sound of skin hitting skin echoes, noisy and vulgar. Arthur don’t pay it much mind. He laughs against your shoulder.

“One of these days, that moutha’ yours is gonna get me in real trouble.” 

You giggle back at him 

“What kinda trouble is that now?” 

Even from your side glance, you’ve got that lovely little smile on you. Fuckdrunk and ingratiating, like you know he’s wrapped so tight around your fingers. And he is, like nothing else in the world could have him. A wave of possession curls up over Arthur, makes him press more of himself into you. Onto you. Another deep push of his cock, sliding against the tenderest parts of you. Staking some silent desire in you. He wants and wants and wants, and hopes that whatevers above him can forgive him for making the same mistake thrice. 

“Dunno,” Arthur comments, teeth grazing your shoulder and kissing the indentations “Got our whole lives together to find out, I reckon.” 

“I’ll hold you to it, Mister.” 

Arthur laughs. “Hope you do, Miss.” 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ JOHN MARSTON + COWGIRL ;

John doesn’t say that he loves you lightly. 

Hardly a thing he says can be said that way. Could never afford too. In an alternate universe where nothing goes wrong in his life, maybe - but he has a hard time picturing what the hell that’d look like. A version of himself so untainted, without all of the violence and blood and gunsmoke? Foreign. John can’t picture it worth a damn. 

Who John is without a deadbeat father and a dead Ma is somewhere far beyond his reach. Ain’t nothing about his life, at any point, lighthearted. 

On top of all that mess, he’s got a boy at age four with a woman he ain’t married too. And that relationship is always on rocky waters, even though John’s decided to do right by his own flesh and blood sometime ago. Most things in the world he should feel good about he doesn’t, and most things he should understand render him clueless. He’s a mess on multiple accounts, and he still doesn’t know how exactly he’s meant to approach this life of his. He knows what he should do, but nothing about how to do it. 

John doesn’t come to love you easily ‘cause he wouldn’t know easy love if it hit him in his face. Quickly and painfully, but not easily. 

Your return to the gang was an odd one. You were an old presence and your disappearance was an even older story. John thought he’d never gonna see you again for sure. You’d been a part of the gang back long before all of the nonsense that took place in Blackwater and you left about the time Arthur’s boy died. John don’t remember why you left exactly. He thinks it was a fight with Hosea, of all things.

 Dutch weren't too happy about it neither, but Dutch back then didn’t make a show. 

So you left, and John buried every feeling he ever harbored. You found all them again up in Colter, where you’d been living out your days lately. According to you, in the middle of riding, you thought you’d heard Arthur. So, somewhat recklessly, you went chasing him. Didn’t matter if he was just something your mind conjured. According to you, if it was him, it was at least worth checking to make sure. You’d reunited with Arthur and after some tears, he rode with you back to camp. 

Upon your return, the gang welcomed you with open arms. 

You’d done a lot in your time alone.You spent most of that time just like that, a ghost wanderin’ the planes. You weren’t gonna stay with ‘em, but Arthur insisted and Hosea did too. That wasn’t enough to compel, so John was last to chip in. You should stay, at least until Valentine. 

(Silently he thought, you should stay so John can trace memories of you. It was so long ago, he should’ve forgotten all of it. You were a year older than John and always on his ass but easy for him to talk to. Didn’t fuss over his failures. You just barely grew into your womanhood when you set your sights on running away. You wanted more than this life, and John never really forgave you for it. His first heartbreak, maybe - but it’s all too blurry for that. 

You understood him though better than anyone, and one day you were gone. Nothing’s really the same.) 

You changed tremendously and not at all. He missed you. God, did he ever. Missed you a long time. Didn’t realize how much until you came back and everything in him felt right again. Your return stirred up old feelings and everyone noticed. He wasn’t trying to keep it a secret, but he really wasn’t trying to fall back into anything with you. Not how he did. 

Just like you did back then, you read John like an open book. And just like he did back then, he loved you all too helplessly for it.  It was just all too easy again, to be with you. 

You stayed out of the way at first, for the sake of his family. 

But, John ain’t a half-decent man even when he’s trying to be. So he set himself on being with you. It wasn’t easy - most things with him aren’t as you’ll see.  Having you around again straightened what was left of his common sense, at least. He told Abigail before telling you. He figured you wouldn’t even reply unless that was all out of the way. That turned out as well as you’d expect.

 It was settled between the two of you thereafter. He’s lucky she didn’t toss him into the street. 

Everything works out in a way. As best they can between broken people. You make peace with each other. His boy loves you like a third parent (you’re better with him than John is). Abigail commends you for straightening out such a worthless man though she’s a little melancholy.  John just tries to stay out of the way. You’ll be together in the end. There’s a plan with the five of you. 

But until it all falls apart, he doesn’t get all that much time with you. 

There’s moments like tonight, though. Rare ones. Together out robbin’, cooped out some place in the woods where no one is around. A place so shaded by nightfall that John can absolve himself of every sin he’s ever committed in his life and pray at the altar between your hips. John is convinced he might find worship like he’s always hearing about there whenever he touches you, the marred skin of his hands and knuckles reading the scripture of your body with careful precision. 

You might turn him into a literate man yet. 

John glances up at you. Only the light of the fire and the moonlight there to accompany as he watches you over him. You’re beautiful. John couldn’t picture a single thing more perfect in his life. 

Your hands against his bare chest, nails digging into the flesh as you lean forward. Your palm dug into the dirt, John finds his own hands rested at your hips. John looks at you awe-struck, cock twitching at the mere sight. His heart settles in his throat, but he’s calm all at the same time. With you, he forgets. All of it. The worst of himself. 

Bare naked and so close, he watches your face as you strain. You feel soft. Every inch of you in comparison to him is. A bead of sweat slides down the valley of your breasts. John cranes his neck up to catch it with his tongue, licking a stripe up to your neck - letting his teeth sink into the space between your jaw and neck. You want to make it last and John doesn’t blame you. It’s so rare you get to have each other so unrestrained. John can feel all the ways you want him, can see it in your face - all pinched with need. You’re holding yourself back, trying to get it to last as long as the night will allow. It’s cute in a way.

It’s different than how he’s used to seein’ you, all cocky or otherwise. You’re needy like this. Just needy. His stomach turns with lust, jolting through him like a strike of lightning. His cock twitches against your folds, sliding against them. Pure admiration watching the sticky mess of his pre-cum and your own arousal mix together and smear on your mound. You make a soft noise in the back of your throat, faint and tender as you fall forward just a little. John laughs against your neck. 

“Darlin’,” He says with a huff. Not malice. Something akin to bliss, where he can rarely afford it “Have I done something to piss you off today?” 

You pick yourself up and look down at him and frown. John kisses the corner of your mouth, resisting some crude desire to fuck up into you. 

“Just,” You grunt as the tip of his cock passes over your throbbing clit, your whole body wracking to a shiver. John looks awed. “Pent up. Goddamn it,” 

John figures it out quickly after that. It’s this part of it he likes. The proximity. The closeness. Feeling the tremble in your hands as they struggle to keep up right, muscles strained in your forearms. Being able to hold you, to keep the pace or let you take the lead. The clear view of your face as pleasure travels up through your spine and melts into you. He grabs your hips, the fat dimpling underneath his fingers as he moves you along. He can’t wait. You don’t bother to protest seeing John can’t seem to bear it anymore. You collapse into his chest, your tits pushed flat against his pecs.

His cock throbs near painfully, sliding against your soft cunt before finding himself lined with you. He thinks to himself that it’s this he was looking for, as he tucks your face against his neck and lets his tip stretch you out slowly. Such a vice like grip, stretching - resisting him like your whole body can’t anticipate the sensation of fullness. You gasp against his throat. 

“John,”  

What a sweet sound from your mouth, even sweeter as he bucks himself up. Keeps you steady and lets his cock stretch you full, feel you deep. “That’s right, my angel. Didn’t think you’d remember my name when you’re all worked up like this.” 

“You’re,” You gasp and John thrusts, thrusts hard until he’s buried to the hilt. You shudder, walls pulsing around him as he bottoms out and John laughs like the terrible man he is. He fucks you again, over and over - a wicked little smile watching “Awful. Just awful, John Marston,” 

“Ain’t that the truth,” He hums against your mouth as his hand snakes between your bodies, thumb rubbing against your clit. “Wonder what kinda woman that makes you,” 

“A foolish one,” 

John laughs. 

“I sure do love you for it,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆JAVIER ESCUELLA + SIDEWAYS ;

Javier hasn’t thought about much other than surviving. 

It’s been like that. Been like that for a while, probably much longer than he cares to admit. He’s sure any sane man would suffer the same plight if they lead the same life. Anything but survival is little more than a pipe-dream, so Javier tries not to go for anything too strongly. In that aspect he’s like many of the members of the gang he’s in, perhaps that’s why he sticks to them. There’s that phrase Hosea’s always saying - that misery loves company. Javier will take any decent company he can get.  He’s desperate for it just like he’s desperate for most things - inwardly, silently. 

Some of that desperation may be symptomatic of who he is. After he killed a man in a crime of passion for a woman he loved and ran from a government who would sooner exile him than change, Javier decided to not dream anymore. Every revolutionary who dreams too hopefully pays the price in blood.

(Javier thinks there’s probably nothing in the world as true as this. A form of gospel. He remembers the first dream he ever had after his uncle passed. Not a nightmare but a dream. He remembers the exact feeling of waking up, cold and confused. What is a dream, except a memento of survivor's guilt that loyal people cling onto fruitlessly. When hope starts to feel like a debt he’s going to waste his life paying back, Javier loses sight of everything. The beginning of the end in some way.) 

His mind doesn’t occupy itself with anything bigger than that. Since Dutch found him starving, there was never a desire to try and live off aspirations. He pays his penance with loyalty and honor. Practices some form of humility and tries, not too desperately, to carve a place for him to fit. All without drawing too much attention or caring too much. If you ignore the bleeding in his fingers, his penchant for knives over guns, and his refusal to talk too long about the place he comes from - it’s nearly believable that none of it matters. 

Except loyalty. All Javier honors is that. It’s the only thing he has some part in choosing, so he choses it every time. Living like that didn’t make any difference to him. He was surrounded by mostly decent people. He didn’t hate the life he was living. 

It wasn’t important. It didn’t matter. His directionless-ness, his floating. Hadn’t since he joined the gang. At least not to anyone but him. He didn’t know what he’s meant to do or if he was meant to proceed with this forever. He was (is)  loyal to Dutch. To the gang. 

He hadn’t thought much about what comes after. 

And it didn’t matter until he met you

He’d sworn off love after seeing where it got him, at least until he could love more dispassionately. When the women bring you back from their outing from Valentine and beg Dutch to let you stay, Javier doesn’t think much of it all. He thinks you’re pretty, if it counts for anything. But he doesn’t let himself linger on you too long. 

But that’s the sequence with you two, really. The whole time.  He doesn’t linger until he does. It doesn't matter until it does. He doesn’t think about you until it’s all he can think about. 

You go for him first. And it’s in little, unimportant ways that might not mean shit to you but mean a whole lot to him. You have some kind of tenderness about you that you wear deep, runs through your blood like love ran through his once long ago. Some softness he can’t really measure with his own. It’s not that that gets him. It’s that sometimes you look at Javier like he's … someone you want to see. He forgot what that was like all together. It felt foreign to him the first time it happened. Seeing how you light up when Javier is around. 

You wanted to see him. You noticed that he’s gone. If he sang by the campfire - you’d sit by him and listen.  If he was out in the trees keeping guard, he’d hear the soft call of your voice to Grimshaw ask Where’s Javier? And sometimes the girls will make fun of you - but you wouldn’t deny anything they said. It’s so small and ordinary. He would’ve never considered himself simple before meeting you. Nothing is simple. Nothing. 

(But then, Javier thinks of the kinds of songs he sings and the way he takes care of himself and the clothes he wears and maybe Javier has some kind of affinity for preciousness that explains all of it.) 

When Javier confesses his feelings for you - he finds the affair to be like most things between you. Ordinary love, not really between outlaws but people. It’s up against a tree while you share a drink and he’s looking at the curve of your mouth and the plum color Karen’s so kindly put on you. And his head fills with kissing you so he does. A breathless confession between alcohol stains and the feeling of your hands curled in the lapels of his suit. 

From there, Javier is your lover. He’s not interested in the business of secrets, but he tries not to let it show too much. Not that he doesn’t want to. He wants to show you off more than anything - at least some part of him does. But the other part wants to keep you away from prying eyes, keep his love for you only where the both of you can see. If he could keep that pretty lovestruck face you make all to himself forever he would. 

When he gets a chance to whisk you away from everything, Javier jumps at the chance. Not often, but Javier makes time for you. Makes time to indulge in love he thought he’d  never find again. 

That’s why he’s here with you in the middle of nowhere, a ghost town where no one knows you.. A reserved room with a bed and lowlights all to yourselves. 

Javier can’t keep his hands to himself and he doubts you expect him too. 

For Javier, this sense of proximity is what intoxicates him most. The warmth of your bare skin in the slivers of yourself exposed. Javier is fond of finding you like this after a long day of horse riding. Of sneaking touches to your waist as you push back against him to sleep, only to find his desire for you - laid clearly. He likes hearing you whimper feeling his length poke against your back, the embarrassment when it dawns on you that he wants you after all. Always surprised, even though Javier tells you it so often. Whispers it along your neck and shoulders whenever you’re at camp together.

You like the feeling of his hands so Javier always starts with them. He squeezes your hips. Planes his palms over your chest before squeezing your chest, pushing the fat between his fingers. You like the way  they look when they grope you, his chin resting against your shoulder as you spoon. In the lowlights of a cheap hotel - Javier gets the perfect view of your silhouette. Your body is sensitive over the fabric of your gown, heat prickling through you. 

Javier who is always so gentle with you, rouses so deep listening to your whining as he explores your body. The suffocating closeness of a single bed intoxicates him. 

“Javier,” Your voice is sweet and thin. Plays in Javier’s head like music and makes his mouth curl up into a catlike grin as you push back on him.  You look slightly over your shoulder, lips pushed into a pout. “Please,” 

He tugs at the fabric of your nightgown. The top half pulls haphazard underneath your tits, nipples perky and sensitive to touch while the skirt pools at your waist. What gets Javier like this is the desperation. Wanting so much but not being able to look too long. A way for you to mirror him, it’s a matter of possession. In some stupid way. Bunching your clothes up, pushing the fabric of your panties to one side, letting his arm wrap around your waist to touch and tease.  All of these are imprints of his longing, tucked faithful into your side as he whispers sweet nothings into your skin.

His cock twitches as it pushes past your folds with finality, your hands curling up at your sides.  You whimper softly, let your cheek rest against the sheets as Javier takes you on your side. Terribly close, you fuss as you feel him slide every inch into you slow, your hands reaching back for purchase. It’s the fit of you against him so perfect, the silent strokes of intimacy, the hush-hush giggles between the sheets that Javier loves most about fucking you like this. Too enamored with you to look too closely, he lets his eyes flutter closed. He could get drunk just being in your space. 

He carves out space for himself inside of you, feels your cunt accommodate for him like it loves him. A feverishness breaks out as his forehead rests on the space between your shoulders, an uncharacteristic whiny quality in his words. 

“Ser mío,” Javier says - as a reflection of what he really wants, to belong only to you. “Belong to me.” 

Darling as you always are, you nod softly. 

“All yours, Javier,” You whimper, finding his hand. “Forever,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ CHARLES SMITH + MATING PRESS ; 

Wandering. 

He’s been doing it his whole life. Not something he’s proud of. Or ashamed of either, really. Just how things have gone for him until now. Charles doesn’t think his life has been any better or any worse than anyone else's. At least not when he weighs it with the same kind of pragmatism he does most things. It’s been a hard life, and a miserable one in so many ways. Still, it’s not something Charles is too keen to dwell on. 

There’s just something thematic about loss in Charles' life in a way he finds completely unpleasant. It’s more constant than anything. Loss of his home, loss of his mother, loss of his father in an attempt to find what’s best for him. It’s some overarching message that hangs over his head like a shadow. Everywhere he goes, trying to rectify his own solitude seems to come back to him. It doesn’t help that it’s an unfair world to start with, and would’ve been if he had just been black or just been native. But Charles is both, and has lived a life that reflects that specific injustice thoroughly. 

There’s not really anything Charles can do about it, at its baseline. When he left his father, the name of the game had simply been survival. He was well-equipped enough for that at least. But after survival comes trying to live and trying to live isn’t something so simple. Jumping in and out of gangs who thought they could get away with slighting him or generally being surrounded by unpleasant people. Trying to find something in pages of book and scripture, or in the way water ripples when it rains. 

He’s never felt any one way towards the gang. Even when he joined them all the way back in the Grizzlies. Lost in the cold, they’d crossed paths as Charles was out hunting. A lot of it feels like a blur. Of all the folks he’s met in his travels though, Dutch treats him fair and the rest of them (or most of them) are decent, honest folk. Charles stays in the Van Der Linde gang for such simple reasons as trying to stay alive and be somewhere that isn’t actively hostile towards him. He’s a good gunman, and a better fighter. The inner workings of gang politics and forging connection isn’t at the forefront of his mind, with the exception of the kindest few. 

The Van Der Linde gang is just a place where he can figure out what his purpose is meant to be, even if he doesn’t find it there. He’s never expecting anything to come out from his loyalties to it. 

Of all the things Charles expects of his life in the Van Der Linde gang, love is at the very bottom of the list. 

Maybe it’s about time he stops being surprised by these things happening to him one or way another.

 You were a member of the gang far before him, and someone Charles took to quickly. You’d joined the gang not too long after John from what Arthur tells him. Though the brunette speaks about you more fondly than he does his brother. A problem child at the start, according to Arthur - always getting into all sorts of trouble. Something you seemingly feel embarrassed about now and refuse to bring up. Charles has a hard time picturing it having only known you as you are. 

The woman you’ve grown into is someone else completely, and Charles sees that in you all the time. Compassionate like Hosea but charismatic like Dutch, and clever. And you’re beautiful, too, though Charles feels a little shallow admitting that’s part of what drew you into him. 

It wasn’t Charles that approached you first. You were the one who spoke to him, as often as you thought necessary but never in a way he found invasive. He doesn’t know what it is exactly about you that charms him near instantly. You’re enigmatic to a fault. It’s like you always know exactly what to say and exactly when to say it. Even more than that, you’re a terribly pleasant person to be around. Subtly warm and free of assumptions. When Charles talks to you about anything, you listen without making him feel like it’s any sort of burden to you. You don’t pry, don’t make missteps. Treat him fair, and then some. 

It’s unbearably simple, just how quickly and how easily he comes to adore you.  And, in some ways, Charles knows better than to believe that his purpose is loving someone. There’s more to it than that, surely - after everything. 

But then, he’ll watch you do something. Watch you do some kind of menial work that he could do for you instead. Thinks of skinning animals for new clothes and chopping wood and rubbing the soap off of you and all of a sudden it makes him feel anchored. Everything he could do for you. You anchor Charles easily, with a wispy smile. Make him want to find purpose in life with you. He never wants to be somewhere you’re not. 

He confesses it to you just like that, and like you do with most things - you accept and reciprocate without making too much of a fuss. 

For Charles, making love is an extension of wanting to ground himself in you. A distant siren song - the intersection of lust and bone deep adoration. Like most things, you’re the one to approach first every time. A soft hand on his forearm, a whisper that you want him. It’s with ease that he draws you away. Drags from you camp during nightfall with his horse and blankets and picks a spot with the perfect view of the stars. 

Charles watches you under the glow of moonlight, his vision adjusting to you easily. Naked underneath him, laid on your back with your legs folded at your knees - heaving deep breaths. He can see the sweat beading down your skin, your chest rising and falling - and the perfect view of your pussy. His hands and mouth are wet as you breathe out. He finds himself smiling at you, his own erection pressed against your thigh, pre-cum leaking out in a mesmerized haze. 

You lift your hands up and he leans down, surprised as you wrap them around his neck and pull him closer to you. Your mouths meet like that, and Charles laughs against your lips as you kiss him so eagerly. You blink at him, pretty. You’re always prettier than he remembers you being the last time he looks. 

“Charles,” You frown at him. “It’s impolite to keep a lady waiting,” 

He kisses the corner of your mouth. “Sorry, my love. I don’t want to hurt you,” 

“Well, I’m fine with it,” You repeat, almost petulant. Charles frowns. “‘Sides, it ain’t my first time taking you, you know?” 

“Well, I’m not fine with it.” 

You pout, looking at him all endeared. Charles couldn’t help but love you even if he tried. “You ain’t gonna hurt me. C’mon. Please?” 

“Please, what?” 

You look at him aghast before breaking out into a faux-scandalized giggle. “Now you—please fuck me. Pretty, please.” 

Charles feels something tickling against his spine hearing you say it. He couldn’t imagine getting sick of you in his whole life.  “Yeah, that’s good to hear.” 

You make an indignant noise but it’s silenced quickly as Charles positions himself against your entrance. He has plenty of discipline when it comes to matters like these, but right now - he feels like he’s going to lose his mind. Not nearly enough patience to wait. He lets his hands go up underneath your knees just to have something to hold onto. 

You make a little gasp as the tip of his cock pushes into you. Your walls are so soft, likely after all the orgasms he’d given you prior. You stop him in a shocked gasp, and Charles immediately readies himself to pull out. As if sensing his hesitance, you shake your head. 

“Charles,” You gasp, the words caught in your throat and hoarse “Deep. Want it deep,” 

His abdomen tightens, cocking twitching hard at your words. He agrees silently to your desires. 

When it comes to sex, there’s very little Charles dislikes.

But this is his favorite. He’s simple but no other position lets him see you so close. He likes the way your eyes widen as he pushes up underneath your knees and folds you underneath his weight. How you look pinned down under him, the perfect view of your eyes rolling back into your head and the proximity from your face to his. He lets his cock stretch you out slowly, throbbing each time your nails dig desperately into arms trying to keep your composure. Fuck you feel so tight like that. Soft pussy, dripping and sticky. You suck him in relentlessly, and Charles groans as he bottoms out. You take every inch of him so well. So perfect like the rest of you. 

Your eyes flutter open as he stays there, buried in you in complete bliss. You’re dazed. 

“Kiss?” 

Surprise followed by adoration, he abides by your request easily. Overwhelmed with it as he presses a chaste peck to your mouth, he laughs. “As many as you want.”

Anything you want, Charles thinks, he would give to you. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

#arthur morgan x reader #john marston x reader #javier escuella x reader #charles smith x reader #rdr2 x reader #rogues love letters #red dead redemption 2 x reader #THIS IS THE LAST TIME. THE LAST FUCKING TIME !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[writingstoraes]

hey there!! i love your stories!! can i please have a social media au where it’s a redbull driver reader soft launching her relationship with charles? okay love u! thank u!

grid love 🏎

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!redbull!reader

type: instagram imagine, social media au

notes: sorry this took so long, anon! hope you like this hehehe 🤍 also lets pls pretend the faceclaim does drive for redbull, okay? okay. love u 2 anon (also this is purely ig posts hehe)

about: the last thing anyone expects is a redbull driver dating another from ferrari. a series of soft launches from you didn't help either!

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen, charles_leclerc, pierregasly, and 1,223,882 others

yourusername weekend shenanigans 🏁

redbullfan NOT HER CASUALLY SOFT LAUNCHING SOMEONE

ferrarigirl crying someone bagged the baddest bitch in f1

leclercluv That shadow looks an awful lot like Charles 😂😂😂😂

sainzzz55 reaching? we cant even see his face

leclercluv Charles was literally spotted at an Italian restaurant of the same setting today but okay 😂

maxverstappen Interesting

yourusername what's interesting about this? 🤨

maxverstappen Cause if I'm right, carlossainz55 and pierregasly owes me $50 🤣

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen, charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, and 1,223,122 others

yourusername french and princess treatment kind of night 🥂

dr3sainz ANOTHER SOFT LAUNCH?????

f1thusiast cryinggg shes got everyone and their mamas speculating on who her mystery man is 😭

carlossainz55 Max is so gonna owe me $50

maxverstappen No???

hamilt0n literal millionaires betting on $50 i have seen it all

leclercluv French?? Yeah it's Charles lol

redbullracing ❤️🤍

sainz55lec WHAT DO U KNOWWW RBR ADMIN

redbullracing Not much, as long as our golden girl is happy ❤️🤍

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, yukitsunoda0511, maxverstappen, and 1,220,345 others

yourusername 16 times happier than i've ever been ❤️🤍

midnightleclercs not charles liking this 1 minute after it was posted 😭

pierrestsunoda he got her notifs on thats why

leclercluv Game over ladies that's literally Charles' car 😭

lecssainz isn't his car a ferrari pista?

leclercluv He was seen driving it around Barcelona today, apparently it's a new one 🤷‍♀️

maxverstappen 🫣🫣🫣

gaslysfilm literally why use 16 when you can use another number 😭 the y/n-charles soft launch theory may really be real lol

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen, charles_leclerc, arthurleclerc, and 1,992,221 others

yourusername drove this baby around today

leclercluv CHARLES' PISTA 😭

lecshamilton this fr the hardest soft launch anyone has ever done in history im afraid

redbullfan Yeah this shit confirmed this is all we needed lmao

pierregasly maxverstappen 💸 Pay up

charles_leclerc

liked by redbullracing, scuderiaferrari, yourusername, and 2,103,334 others

charles_leclerc My rival on track is my heart keeper off track ❤️

tagged: yourusername

pierregasly This is about the cheesiest thing you have ever done

scuderiaferrari Feeling all the feels right now ❤️

redbullracing This serves as our truce, off track?

lewishamilton WOAH.

carlossainz55 I told you, maxverstappen! Pierre and I win 😄

yourusername what is this bet anyway

maxverstappen Which one of you will hard launch first, you really failed me, Y/N 😔

yourusername if i beat you in canada next week you have to buy me a lifetime supply of my favorite foods 😋

charles_leclerc Bring it on, bull

yourusername not a fan of the nickname, red

f1fan HOTTEST COUPLE EVERRRR

charlossainz this is the ferrari and redbull crossover i did NOT expect

-----------

tagging: @slytherheign

notes: didnt know im still capable of doing a post of just ig pictures lmaooaoa ive been so used to adding twitter posts and let me tell u it takes SO MUCH time 😭

anyway i hope u like this, anon! thank you for reading 🤍

#writtenbyrae #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc insta au #charles leclerc instagram imagine #charles leclerc social media au #formula 1 #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula 1 insta au #formula 1 social media au #formula 1 instagram imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x oc #f1 x you

[thevirgincherry]

STAY SOFT, GET EATEN !

ft. leon s. kennedy x gn!reader

tags. p in v, incest, dub-con that is basically non-con idk

note. unedited cuz i got lazy omg. umm ignore typos :3 sorry my writing is so jolty lately im finding it hard to write so it’s all coming off very clunky but :3 rbs n feedback appreciated !! this is like not actually that smutty I’m sorry 💔 if u see me reusing bits from other old fics pretend it’s new

tumblr has started to remove fics that use tw non-con, tw incest and any nsfw tags in general from the tags. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags so i can have the same reach as other authors, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.

Your dad is hot, an indisputable fact. He’s a total babe, kinda looks like he should’ve been in Baywatch during his prime, got a rack that rivals C. J. Parker’s. Ever since you hit twelve, and the girls in your class suddenly got all boy crazy, you’ve been hearing nonstop about how cute dad is.

Sleepovers were held at yours so they could get a glimpse of him, and your dad might be friendly, but he’s clumsy with conversation, not much of a talker, so he made himself scarce. Then came the slew of questions, you think it was Ashley Graham, the one that didn’t know how to quit it. Airheaded with eyes like chipped peridot.

Hey, where’s your mom? Is she still around, I’ve never heard about her? What kinda girl does your dad like?

My dad doesn’t like kids, freak.

He might, and I’m not a kid! I mean, I turn thirteen in January. I bought a bra at PINK the other day, I even got measured, the lady said I’m an A cup.

Even my dad's are bigger than that, loser.

I’m, like, so not a loser! My mom said I could get a boob job when I turn sixteen, and by then your dad will be, like, what? Thirty?

He’ll be forty-three, dumbass.

Yeah, forty-three, that’s perfect. We can date then as long as you don’t have a mom. I did see a picture on your desk, but that’s your sister right? ‘Cause if that’s your mom, she never picks you up from school, so she’s either dead or they broke up or she hates you, right? I’m so right, aren’t I?

You’re wrong, stupid. My mom just works a lot.

Boo, I totally thought she was dead, well, whatever, if they break up by the time I hit sixteen, I’ll totally be your new step-mom.

For a lack of better words, you wanted that bitch dead. She meant well, you’ve just never met someone so out of touch, the type of girl that hands out Chanel handbags at the food bank.

A few years later, when you turned eighteen, it was Ada Wong, you had this co-dependent, whirlwind friendship that had you by the throat. She was cool, a few years older, and everyone thought she was hot. You were lame, and wanted everyone to think you were hot. What you don’t understand is how on earth it ended with her hand down the front of your dad’s pants at your graduation party. He was totally out of it too, she took advantage of a poor, drunk old man, and the worst part about it? That wasn’t what made you mad. Not that she touched him when he was slurring, tripping over his own feet, you were mad ‘cause she got to touch him in the first place.

When you tell your counsellor, I have a crush on my dad, she falters. She’s this older lady that reminds you of your Auntie Claire, they have the same button nose, and that makes it harder to talk to her. She presents herself professionally, and takes herself a little too seriously, also in the way Auntie Claire does at times. Bitch thinks she’s a psychologist. She has an office tucked right into the corner of your university’s humanities department.

“Well, is your dad absent?” She starts, chews on the lid of her ballpoint pen, the type you get in a pack of two hundred. See, if she were a real psychologist, she’d have a fancy one, with runny ink, and a metallic barrel.

“No, my dad raised me.” Your lips twitch upwards, wanting to scowl at her. ‘Cause this is your thirteenth session, and she knows how close you are to dad.

“Well, then, has your dad ever hit you?” She blinks real slow like it hurts to blink.

“What? No, never.” You’ve asked me these questions before, you stuck-up cow.

“Well, then,” Her eye twitches, you think she might report you to the authorities for being a freak, “Has he ever behaved inappropriately with you?”

The worst your dad has done is ask if you’re on birth control, only once, and he was rightfully worried. “Never, he would never do that.” I don’t know if you’ve been listening, I’m the one that wants to sit on his dick.

She taps her nail on the oak desk, popping open a button on her blouse. Some counsellor she is, mouth drying up ‘cause you have a crush on your dad. “Listen, if it’s not me overstepping boundaries, or being impolite, I’d like to refer you to a therapist.”

No fucking way. Jackpot. You’ve been waiting three months for this, all it took for her to cut the crap was an incestual confession? Although, you really do need to get that fixed, there’s this part of your brain, the cerebellum you believe, that’s been cut out and replaced by a hunk of meat that resembles your father. Whoever did it made a shoddy malpractical mess that you’re left to clean up with scarce supplies and medical knowledge.

“I'd really appreciate that.” You tell her, mustering your toothiest of grins as you pack up your shit and pass through the doorway, never to turn back to advice that consists solely of ‘talk it out’ and ‘use daily affirmations’ and other baseline shit they cover in Cosmopolitan articles you could read for free.

Therapy turns out to be no help. Not ‘cause of the content of the session, this is your first one actually, more ‘cause your therapist resembles dad. A little more on the polished side than your father, with salt and pepper hair that would look so good on him. Leon refuses though, to grow old, that is, to look anything more than thirty - he’s far past that, you think he’s looked old ever since you were born.

It’s going to be a distraction, you might leap out of your seat and fuck this man half to death if he scoots his chair any closer, if he keeps scratching his chin in the way dad does. There’s a copy of Nineteen-Eighteen-Four on the desk behind him, the one with the fabric cover to be specific, embellished by tiny labouring hands to sit pretty on the best-seller shelf in some overpriced independent bookstore. More importantly, it’s the copy that collects dust on your dad’s bedside, the one he insists to have read, but the pages still have that fresh scent to them, and not a single one is dog-eared.

There’s a ring on his ring finger, just like dad’s, and that might be a stretch, ‘cause every married man has a ring on their ring finger. Still reminds you of dad though. His is gold, and dad’s is silver ‘cause mom likes silver. You like silver ‘cause it looks pretty on dad.

He introduces himself, his way of speech is refined, and you can tell he thinks before he speaks unlike dad. Leon is clunky with words, oftentimes crude without realising. Cancellation and no-show fees, your rights, confidentiality, he runs you through all of it - the whole time you’re focused on his lips, the prominent curve of his Cupid’s bow, the double lip line that makes them appear fuller from afar. Just like dad’s lips.

The receptionist frowns when you request to see another therapist, then she begins to click, click, click away at her keyboard. She stops midway to file her nails, then she pops her gum and gives a very simple shake of the head, ponytail moving with her. You doubt the slow bitch even tried, so you make your way home, a heat in your stomach that refuses to fizzle out, an ache so deep only dad could reach it. With his dick, obviously.

Dad’s keys jingle and you hear wedding bells. You check the time, he’s home early, he toes off his shoes and tucks them into the cubby hole shelf mom placed by the door. She’d be down his throat if he left them scattered for her to trip over again.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Leon smiles kindly, the same smile that’s seen you throughout your life. The one he gave you when he first held you, the one he gave you when you fell off your bike, and he brushed the crumbly gravel off your knees and kissed the tender scrapes on both. When you graduated, and he held back tears but acted all tough about it, he smiled all the same.

“Hi, dad.” The one you give in return is meek, the apples of your cheeks refusing to raise upwards into your eye-line.

“Oh,” Dad is perceptive, he throws his jacket over the bannister, keys tucked into one of it’s unzipped pocket - they dangle haphazardly, and you’re sure he’ll forget about them and toss that jacket in the washing machine, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You shrug Leon’s hand off of your shoulder when he takes the seat adjacent to you. It’s cruel, the expression on his face sours, your heart lurches. Making him upset is your farthest intention, you just don’t know how much skin to skin contact you can handle with him.

Nonetheless, it was the wrong move, ‘cause he shuffles closer, “Hey now, don’t push me out, what’s wrong?”

“Dad, I promise, nothing's up.” You aim to soothe him with your words, but his agitation grows, your discomfort is palpable - he tastes it on his tongue, it’s the blood in the back of his throat. There’s no getting past him. “Therapy was bad.” No harm in telling a lie or two.

“Therapy,” Leon waves his hand through a nonexistent cloud of smoke, “You don’t need that.”

Here we go. All you need is a hug from dad! A kiss from dad. And you’ll be all better, sweetheart.

“I do, dad.” You glare at him, he smooths his thumb over your wrinkled brow and your heart drops to your ass. Dad needs to stop touching you before you touch him back, that’s a silent threat, your fingers twitch to grab him, mould his soft flesh into the shape of your fingertips.

“I did a good job with you,” Leon states, “My dad—“

My dad hit me, my dad threw me through a glass table once, busted my ass and made me crawl through the shattered glass and then he set wild dogs on me - your grandma just watched - I been through all that and I don’t need to go to therapy. He says something along those lines, albeit less cinematically thrilling.

“You did a very good job with me,” You nod, reassure him in a maternal tone almost ‘cause all dads are children that need to be praised, “It’s not your fault, dad, I love you lots.” Well, it is, for raising you so well, maybe he raised you too well. Or maybe you’re just a bit sick in the head, or maybe it’s his fault for looking how he looks.

“Then you don’t need therapy,” He sinks back into his dent in the leather couch, “You just need a hug, bring it in, kid.”

No, no, no. You do your best to fend him off, all for his own sake, but he draws you close to his chest, smothers you by pushing your face right into the dip. He smells good, cologne gradually having worn off as the day progressed, the slightly tangy undertone of his sweat coming through.

“And a kiss.” He coos at you, pinches your cheek, clicks his tongue in an attempt to coax you.

God, no. Don’t kiss me. Don’t do that— Mwah! Smack bang on your forehead as he tips your chin upwards, blinking down at you with sticky toffee lashes. And you, stupidly, in your lovestruck haze, pull him in to place the most disgusting, sloppy kiss on his lips - one that does little to hide your ardour for dad.

Leon’s neck almost snaps with how fast he pulls back, then he stares at you open-mouthed, and you hate to say it, but you’d kiss his lips swollen again. A man of his age, especially your father, should not be pretty or doll-lipped, but he is and you hate it. He’s your hamartia of sorts.

“Sweetheart…” Dad shambles aimlessly through his words, umming and ahing.

“Oh, god, you totally think I’m a freak, right?” You take your hands off of his chest, where they had been firmly planted, giving him a real good squeeze without even realising. “Dad, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, it just came out, you were just really close to me and I got nervous.” Now you sound like him, a lack of conversational tact is exactly what you got from dad.

“No, it’s alright, it’s okay, sweetheart, just give dad a minute.” He pats your shoulder, then he stands up, about to march on forward to grab his keys and leave. You know your dad, so you take his wrist in your hand, beg him to face you.

“Dad… I’m sorry, can you look at me?” You add a ‘please’ in the most desperate tone you can manage, brows slanting downwards as your bottom lip trembles.

Leon struggles to do so, his arm flexes when he tenses, stiffening in your grip. He sits back down when you begin to sniffle, too lamb-hearted to sit through your fit of tears. “Oh, sweetheart, it’s okay.” Dad rubs your back, but he avoids moving his face close like he usually would, this is his cue to kiss the tears from your cheeks, but he doesn’t.

“It’s not, dad,” You hiccup, choking on an ugly sob that manifests into an even uglier yelp, “I didn’t mean to do that, I’m just really lonely.”

“Baby,” Leon’s voice is sweet like a glacé cherry, “I didn’t know you were feeling like that, I didn’t know you were lonely.”

You are, but that’s not why you kissed dad. You kissed dad out of your own free will, ‘cause you’re in love with him. “I am really lonely, dad, I don’t know what to do.” The snot and tears don’t bother him, he wipes it away with the back of his hand. You’re his baby, you know that. So if he can do that, why can’t he fuck you? It’s ugly in the same way, he’ll wipe his load off your stomach instead, or your ass if he wants to take you from the back.

“Hey, it’s okay, we can— we can fix that, I promise.” The only thing you need him to fix is the leak you’ve sprung, plug it up or whatever. “There’s no use cryin’ about it, alright? Dad doesn’t like seeing you cry.”

His guard drops, and you’re kissing him again, harder, till he’s breathless and confused and yet unable to push you off. ‘Cause dad is so weak-willed when it comes to you. If only you’d had the guts to get to him sooner. “I won’t cry… I won’t cry if you kiss me, dad, I promise.” It’s a shitty tactic, threats, making dad’s heart jump like that - gonna send him into cardiac arrest.

Leon hesitates, softens like butter when your hands come to fist the fabric of his shirt, “Okay, just, just a kiss, alright? And mom can’t find out ‘bout this.” He stammers, cupping your face in his big hands, his fingers trembling. “And… And just one, yeah?” His flimsy assertion of dominance has your lips curving into the slightest of smiles, dad’s cute.

“Just one.” You agree, his spiky lashes cast shadows on his face, he shuts his eyes tight as your lips ghost over his for a moment, then you take his face in your hands and press them together. Lip to lip. Heart to heart. You swing a leg over his, situating yourself in his lap. Leon’s eyes open, no longer bracing as he glances down at your spread thighs, then up at your face.

“What’s up?” Leon tries, it’s hard to miss the apprehensive edge to his tone, how he burrows backwards into the couch pillows, shoulders shrinking to get away from you. His kid.

He’s not moving. Not pushing you off, which he could easily do, not calling mom and telling her you need to be checked into a ward of some kind - with others akin to you. Would be like a slumber party really, getting to indulge in fantasies that haven’t left the confines of your sick little head. Dad is looking on ahead, glassy-eyed and sad. And you kind of get it now, what you’ve heard about dad being easy back when he was younger. Not easy, but soft. Pliant against his own will, even when he has the capacity to say no, you’ve given him plenty of chances to say no.

“Dad, I’m sorry, I’ll be quick.” That’s a promise, you’re worked up from therapy with the cleaner version of dad. “And I’m sorry, we don’t have to do this ever again.” Unless you want too is left unsaid. You hope the implications are clear enough, that he’s picking up what you’re putting down, but dad is slow in that sense. He’s a hands-on type of guy.

You give him a minute, dad blinks, and there’s no explicit refusal, so you lift up to wriggle out of your jeans. Dad’s come undone a little easier, he raises his hips when you ask him to do so, and he flinches when you unzip them - fingers coming into contact with the softness of his cock through the fabric of his boxers. Leon’s not hard. It’s a blow to your already crippled ego, then again you’ve heard mom talk about Viagra to him before - so maybe it’s not a ‘my kid is groping my dick’ issue, but more of an old age issue.

The tip is velvety on your skin when you tuck your fingers beneath the waistband to tug them down, with the way he’s reclined back in his seat, his dick flops onto his stomach. Heavy and stagnant, much like dad himself. Doesn’t spring up and whack you in the face like dicks tend to do in porn, doesn’t have a mind of its own, it just sits there awkwardly.

Leon closes his eyes, you notice how ragged his breathing is and wonder if he’s getting any enjoyment out of this, or if he’s two minutes away from flatlining. To comfort him, you stroke a hand over his cheek, fingers curling beneath his square jaw as your other hand curls around his flaccid cock. He flinches, and for the first time in your life, you see dad cry. And it turns you on. The last time was when you were born, you don’t remember it, for obvious reasons, but he reiterates it every birthday.

“Oh, dad,” Your brows knit together, “I didn’t… Please don’t cry, I really didn’t mean to upset you, dad. Gosh, I’m just, I just needed to do this dad— Can you speak to me, please? I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Leon’s voice wavers, his body is wracked with shivers, chills prickling his spine, “I want to make you happy.” You’re all he's got, you and mom are the only speck of normalcy in dad’s life and you’ve gone and ruined it. For reasons even your counsellor couldn’t process, reasons that are unfathomable to you. A prion disease so severe that even your therapist likely fears there’s no chance. “I’m sorry.” He says finally, and your stomach hurts.

“Dad, don’t say sorry, that’s stupid.” You lift your hips once more, spitting on your palm and smearing it over his dick has done little for lube, but he’s not all that big - and you’re dripping down your thighs, it’ll be an easy fit, ‘cause dad made you. Half of you is him, and that means he’ll be just right. “It’s not your fault.” You tell him, but you doubt it lifts the guilt from his shoulders, it weighs down his tender heart instead.

Dad doesn’t think that way. He blames everything on himself. Leon’s the one that raised you, he's the one that went wrong. You don’t know how else to tell him there’s something sick inside your head, and it’s infected every single part of you.

It’s hard to guide him into your hole, the tip bumps over your twitching clit a couple of times, up and down your slippery folds as you try to line him up. Leon’s face twists when you take him in, walls breached by the tip alone, you wonder if he’s relieved to find out you’re a virgin. You’ve been saving it for dad, didn’t know the opportunity would come so soon. Your cunt squelches when you take him to the hilt, squeezing around his shaft till he hardens inside of you. There we go, so dad does like you after all? Or is this a natural response? Or is he thinking of someone else, his eyes have been closed for an awfully long time.

“Dad, will you look at me, please?” That’s the second time you’ve asked so nicely and he obeys all the same, cracking open his eyes, foggy like stained glass, just as bright too.

Two hands come to rest on your torso, Leon’s keeping you at arms length. You want dad to let you in. The rocking off your hips elicits the slightest groan from his parted lips, you grind yourself into his lap, fat head leaking and jabbing at that spongy spot deep inside. See? Dad’s made for you. Dad knows you.

“Dad,” You whimper, clammy forehead sticking to his, the tip of your nose bumping his broad one, it’s romantic you think. In the same way A View from the Bridge is romantic - to you and you only. “I love you… I love you so much.” His hips jolt upwards, dad’s sensitive you suppose, he didn’t mean to do it ‘cause his face contorts with pure, unadulterated disgust.

Shakily, you take his bigger hand in yours, he’s limp in your grip. You jam his hand between your sweaty bodies, force him to rub them against your thrumming clit. Dad does it. ‘Cause he loves you, if you didn’t get that by now. His thumb rubs figure eights into your bud, the nimble touch, along with dad’s dick right where you want it, lodged deep inside your pussy - it tips you right over the edge.

Your thighs tremble, snapping shut around his hand, and his cock slips out. He’s only got a semi, or maybe he came earlier, but you don’t know much about dick specifics so you curl into his chest, and dad holds you tight even after you totally violated the poor guy.

“Should clean up ‘fore mom gets home.” Leon’s voice is unsteady, lilting up and down, all over the place. God, did you make dad cry again, you stupid bitch?

“Yeah,” You agree, scratching the back of your head ‘cause what do you even say after fucking your dad? Couldn’t even ask google that. “Dad, do you still like me?”

“I love you,” He answers instinctively, “I’ll love you no matter what you do to me, kid.”

#leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

[yanderecrazysie]

Twisted Zoo Chapter Eight

This is based on the stories of a keeper reader with the octotrio by @ashensgrotto and @merakiui .

Also @twistedcece @cenatour @ursinaw @xiaopleasecomehome @bearshideout @koebishrimpuwu @vash-yuu @help-whatdoimakemyusername @secret-potion @magmdnv @sunshine-for-serotonin @mel-star636 @silkkorchid @thatpersonuouknow @the-ace-reader @pamv11 @coffee-or-hot-cocoa @hrhqueenfox @goseew @luxthestrange @juno-of-wonderland @who-mst @despairingy-obsessed @lanxianschoenheit @ceramic-raven @sirenetheblogger @a13x15a5133p @abcdontbotherme @m0063576 @kimdourden @rammylog @starshiningsirius @im-here-for-the-fun-of-it @the-monochrome-jester @leleunderscore06 @tinymonke @lonelybluesworld @owodi @girl-nahh-two @obeythehuman @berry-efoy @ivorette @the-broken-truth and @thisisafish123 wanted to be tagged! Let me know if anyone else wants to be tagged for future chapters. If you no longer want to be tagged, please tell me! (Some of the tags might not have worked, and I’m sorry if so!)

Summary: You’re a brand new zookeeper at The Halfling Zoo- a place where half-animals live in captivity. Your job is simple- feed them and study them. Your main worry is that one of the more dangerous halflings might kill you. 

Unfortunately, that may become the least of your worries.

Next Chapter: Chapter Nine

WARNINGS: none

Note: All characters are aged up, since there will be mature themes in future parts.

Also, I can’t promise I’ll finish this. I suck at finishing stories.

—-------------------------------------------------------

“Hey, (Y/n)! What have you got there?” Ace was quick to greet you when you walked into the bird exhibit, balancing a box of donuts in one hand as you closed the door behind you.

“I brought donuts!” you said with a wide smile. Ace’s face lit up, “Oh sweet! Is there a cherry flavored one?”

“Huh?” you were surprised by the request, “I’m not entirely sure that exists… either way, I’m afraid I don’t have that flavor. I have strawberry frosted ones though.”

“I’ll take it,” Ace said, reaching greedily for the box in your hand. You walked closer to him and popped the lid open.

“There are so many flavors!” Ace gasped at the sight of the box’s contents, “Say what you want about humans, but they’re real masters at making food.”

“Yup, we’re pretty good at food,” you laughed.

Ace took a donut with pink frosting and sprinkles out of the box and studied it, “Looks kinda girly.”

“Doesn’t matter what it looks like,” you snorted, “The taste is the only thing that matters.”

Ace took a bite and chewed for a moment, savoring the flavor, before his eyes lit up with excitement, “Delicious!” He ate the rest of the donut in two bites.

“So you like cherry?” you asked.

“Cherry pie, at least,” Ace said, “In the rainforest, I lived near a village, and a kind old lady used to give cherry pies to all the halflings.”

“That’s really nice of her,” you said with a fond smile, “Was she sad to see you leave?”

“She died,” Ace said, looking away, “She was long gone by the time I left the rainforest.”

“I’m so sorry,” you said, but Ace merely shrugged.

You reached out and took one of Ace’s hands in your own, “I’ll try to bring you a cherry pie one of these days, when I get better at cooking, okay?”

Ace smiled at you, “I’d like that.” He cleared his throat, eyes looking a little watery as he suddenly spread his colorful wings and flew into his birdhouse.

You turned to Deuce’s cage and found him already watching you. 

“Want a donut?” you asked.

He gave you a reproachful look but dipped his hand into the box you offered to him anyways. He chose a simple glazed donut and put it aside for later. You had the feeling he might not be one for sweets.

Still, he looked up at you with a soft smile, a light blush, and a “thank you”. You smiled and told him, “No problem, Deuce.”

You decided to go to Trey next, even though he creeped you out a little with the way he looked at you, as though he knew everything about you with one glance. 

You found him waiting patiently for you to approach him, despite him being an owl in the middle of the day. “I’m surprised you’re not sleeping,” you told him.

“I could never sleep through your visit,” Trey said softly.

“That’s surprisingly sweet,” you replied with a smile.

“Surprisingly?” Trey asked, “Am I not allowed to be sweet?”

“No, it’s just…” you pushed aside your misgivings- it was probably rude of you to be so creeped out by a halfling that did nothing wrong. Owls always had a severe kind of look to them, that’s probably why he scared you, “Nevermind. Would you like a donut?”

Trey took one from your box and smiled at you, “Long time since sweets.”

“When was the last time you had one?” you asked.

“Used to cook. Made tarts,” he explained.

“You made tarts?” you asked, surprised, “I didn’t know halflings could cook!”

“I could,” Trey said, a proud smile sliding across his face.

“That’s amazing!” your earlier misgivings were forgotten. Your heart melted from how soft his smile was. He looked so innocently happy, thinking back to when he made tarts.

He turned his bright smile on you as he took a small bite from the donut he had selected, “I wish I could make tart for you.” 

“I’m not sure how that would work, but maybe someday we could find a way. I would really love to try one of your tarts, Trey.”

His smile widened, “There is a way.”

Suddenly, you felt as though his smile was wrong somehow, as though there was something darker behind his words. Even so, you asked, “What way is that?”

Trey lifted a finger to his lips, corners of his mouth curling upwards, “Secret.”

“Alright then,” you sighed, “Well, I’ve got to give donuts to the others. Bye Trey.”

“Goodbye, (Y/n),” he replied, watching as you walked over to the flamingo’s cage.

You stepped onto the marshland and lifted the box high, “Hey, Riddle, Cater, I have donuts!”

Cater ran forward with a loud “oooh”, but you were more surprised with Riddle’s reaction. The red-haired halfling picked up a strawberry frosted donut with all the care in the world, as though it were a precious, fragile object. He stared at it for a while, even as Cater chowed down on his chocolate donut.

“You brought these… for us?” Riddle asked, “Why?”

“I brought some for the lions, hyenas, and wolves, so I thought it would only be fair,” you said with a shrug.

Riddle continued to stare at his donut in awe until Cater teasingly wrapped an arm around his shoulders, “Riddle, you are going to eat it, right?”

Riddle’s face turned red immediately and he stuffed the donut into his mouth, tearing a large bite out of it in embarrassment. You held back a giggle and reached out a hand to pat his red hair, “It’s okay, I’m really glad you like it.”

Riddle looked up, face red as a tomato, and met your gaze. His blue eyes widened and he ducked his head, somehow turning even redder. He hurried away, still holding tightly onto his strawberry frosted donut. Cater chuckled and turned back to you.

“Thank you for the donuts. Riddle likes sweets,” he said, “Very much.”

“I didn’t know that about him,” you said, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Bring him a strawberry tart,” Cater said in a stage whisper.

“Trey said he makes tarts,” you said.

Cater’s eyes widened, “Yes, I know. Riddle and Trey were childhood friends.”

“That’s so cool!” you took a glance at Trey’s cage and was glad to see it was close enough to the flamingo’s cage that they could talk to each other.

“Yes, well,” Cater looked suddenly uncomfortable, “Riddle’s childhood was not… Well, that’s up to him to share.”

“Oh…” you frowned, looking after the retreating male with sympathy, “I’ll definitely bring him a strawberry tart soon.”

“Thank you,” Cater said, swooping over and landing a kiss on your cheek. You gasped in surprise and placed your fingers over the spot he had kissed. Cater chuckled and waved, running after Riddle and leaving you behind, standing there dumbstruck.

Finally, you managed to pull yourself together and shook your head with a laugh. All of the halflings were so different, and Cater certainly was a character.

You left the flamingo cage and headed for the peacock cage. Vil gave you a disdainful look as you approached them, but Epel and Rook drew closer with interest. 

“Hey, I’ve got donuts!” you sang out. None of them looked particularly thrilled, but they still all took one from your box.

“I’d like to get to know you all better,” you said with a friendly smile, “Is there anything I could bring you guys as a gift?”

“Moisturizer,” Vil said, turning his head as though he couldn’t stand to look at you. It kind of ticked you off, if you were being honest.

“I actually have some in my locker. I can go grab it if you want. I have lotion too.”

Vil and Rook stared at you as though you had hung the stars in the sky. Epel didn’t seem to care as much, merely munching away on his donut. You smiled at him, “You’re looking handsome as ever today, Epel.”

He choked on the donut, blush rising on his cheeks and a hesitant smile gracing his lips as he looked at you fondly, “you remembered.”

“Of course I did!” you said with a smile. Epel blushed and looked away, his feathers puffing out in embarrassment.

“Now, I’ll go get that moisturizer and lotion for you, Vil,” you said, “Do you want anything, Rook?”

“Your kindness is astounding, mademoiselle,” Rook said, fluttering his eyelids as a smile swept across his face, “But I will be happy with moisturizer as well.”

Less than ten minutes later, you were sitting with Rook and Vil, all of your skin care products spread between you all. Vil looked like Christmas had come early.

“Thank you,” he said, genuine to the core. It was the first time you had truly seen him smile- he was truly beautiful with one.

Rook looked on happily, pleased to see the both of you happy. It was a peaceful scene.

If only it could stay that way forever.

#twisted wonderland

[sentofight]

"Well you did offer this to me. You hadn't considered I would really follow through?" There is a playfulness to his tone to mirror her owns. The beauty of being out in the open plains and meadows was that it appealed to Mark's desire to simply let his mind wander. Doubly so in good company as his head rested nicely on Lyn's lap. "Much as I enjoy traveling into the bustle of cities. Can't say they scratch that enjoyment as much as just being out here. What can I say? I am a relatively simple man to please." He shrugged as his eyes wander off to the landscape before them as the wind blew a pleasant breeze throughout. His eyes then wandered back to Lyn. "Don't think I should be the one saying that you should slow down and take in the scenary, nature girl." A light enough jab, but nevertheless Mark was one person that wanted to make sure Lyn was ever present in the moment for where such memories shined strong. (From Mark!)

Ws left and right | @astralwiings

“A wonderful weather we have today. A blessing from Mother Earth and Father Sky,” a gentle breeze passed to sway her green hair softly before she places a hand to hold it down. The Sacaen lady turned around to take notice of her partner seemingly tired of their little hike. Heh, well, she can’t blame him since it is something she was brought up to do every day while he prefers a more slow lifestyle. Still, he agrees to humor her once in a while on her trips around the plains.

Quickly glancing around, she found a good place to sit down and take in the view. Sitting down, she gestured for the tactician to come and sit beside her. “Mark, let us take a break.” eyes wandering at the other face to examine his features. Lyn looked ahead thinking about what she can do for her tired tactician. Sighing inwardly, she looked down at her hands...hm? Oh!

A gentle tap to his shoulder to get his attention, “Mark,” patting her lap, she smiled at him. “You can rest your head for a bit. You look unwell. I told you to not push yourself hard *sigh* Come now, don’t be shy.” tapping her lap again. “Unless ... you don’t like it ... “ a small pout visible on her features though the soft smirk was soon to replace that pout because she knows very well that it is not the case. He had used her shoulder for his naps more than she can count now. He had this cute habit of exhausting himself that he just naps against anything he can find for a couple of minutes--cat naps, heh. It became kind of a hobby of her to find him in order to lend him a shoulder to sleep on. The first time she did it was out of concern to the tactician’s well-being and his reaction was priceless; waking up in surprise thinking he had offended her but she was both confused and unsure as to why he would think that when she is the one who offered it. Heh, he was well, adorable. Thinking back on it, she did things he was unsure how to register them. Guess she defied the norm of how a ‘lady’ was supposed to act. Not that he did not show her a thing or two that most men she met were too rigid to admit or confess to doing or saying. He was and still nothing but a bundle of surprises to her. The same goes for her in his eyes.

Without further ado, the tactician had already made himself comfortable against her lap which made her let out a low giggle. “Well, I thought you might decline because you want to remain a bit humble and gentleman,” she teased back. Her arms drawn back to her side to let him rest well but soon and out of habit now, one hand reached to gently caress his face. He ought to know that sleeping on her lap means she gets to play with his beard. It is the rule and he should know it.

“I told you previously, the plains is your home whenever you feel tired of the city life. You should rein yourself from exhausting your body like that. One life is not enough to seek all the knowledge on this earth.” came a soft sigh as she playfully run her fingers through his hair.

“--Wh-- ... It’s....sigh ... I am taking care of myself, thank you very much.” a flick to his forehead. “I will be fine because unlike someone, I eat, sleep, and rest well.” her index poking at Mark’s cheek. “I exercise daily, too.” her index traces down to his stomach, poking at it. “Do you, O wise tactician~?” she leans to press a kiss to his forehead. “Don’t change, Mark ...”  

#IN CHARACTER.| L Y N #astralwiings (mark.) #astralwiings #[god...your honor they are married and they are living their peaceful and happy life #[[look at them judge and jury please look at them and tell me they are not the best couples in elibe????? #[was scaean in elibe i dont know i will replay the game some eon soon lmao #[it was not wait it was in ca...ca...somewhere...listen. i have very selective memory and im suffering #[anyway SHUT UP AND LOOK AT THESE DUMBOS FLIRTING LIKE NO ONE IS AROUND #[THERE ARE NO OEN AROUND BUT ANYWAY LOOK AT THEM SO...............DAIABETES............................................. #[KUPPPPPPPOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MABUFU!!!! #[every time u send something im just ..oh god....my brain melting of how can i induce this with good vibes and not angst aha #[lays on the ground.....mark my dude... #[i will hunt your ass down if you made her sad #[you know who will hunt you down? sain XDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD #[kent too #[hector and eliwood will be knocking to 'politely' tell you to perish #[listen. everyone will do anything for lady lyndis and you should know how terrifying it is to defy these people #[florena will drop you from the highest place she can reach let me remind you of this #[anyway my ted talk is over. hope you know the responsibility on your shoulders old man.

[spaceyaemonds]

starry eyes sparking up my darkest night

pairing: aemond targaryen x female!tyrell!reader

summary: aemond has only wanted two things in his life. a dragon and to marry the pretty tyrell girl, now he has both. 

warnings: smut, literally almost all smut very little plot, virginity loss, oral sex (female receiving), fingering (female receiving), creampie, breeding kink, light innocence kink, light size kink, use of pet names, blood is mentioned two (2) times, aemond has a huge cock i don’t make the rules, and breeder balls, eye patch gets taken OFF when aemond fucks his lady wife, implied jealousy, implied voyeurism (? just incase?), out of character aemond (?), i think thats all?

notes: REPOST FROM MY OLD BLOG. i am a whore for a villain. aemond is so hot i love him. this is a side blog, i just didnt want to post on my main blog, im fairly rusty at writing smut, so any and all feedback will be greatly appreciated!! please interact if you see this because i think tumblr hates me:((!! title credits: call it what you want by taylor swift

word count: 5.3k

The wedding had been lovely, truly, but you think everyone could tell your heart wasn’t really in it. Few smiles reached your eyes, and you couldn’t lie that a part of you had felt slightly devasted you were being married in the Dragon Pit in the sight of the Seven, and not the Godswood in Winterfell that you’d come to love during your time in Cregan Stark’s presence many years ago.

You’d thought it was a grand wedding, perhaps too grand for the marriage of a second son, but Aemond is a Prince, so what did you know, besides that and the feeling that the Hand and Queen were trying to sway your father’s loyalty to them when King Viserys joins his late wife, perhaps even go as far as to hope for the favor of your lady mother’s family.

An extravagant weeklong event. Tourneys and hunts and beautiful dinners with lots of dancing. Many lords and ladies had come, many of your friends from childhood present and even your eldest brother. It made the evening feel less lonely for you to be in the presence of people you know so well.

You had been surprised, however, to see the Princess Rhaenyra present with her husband (uncle?) and their children. You heard often of the animosity between the two families, and you were sure she wouldn’t have come. You’d been even more surprised when she had approached you at, a smile on her pretty face.

“Lady Tyrell, you make a most beautiful bride,” She smiles fondly at you.

Aemond tensed next to you, so did the Queen when her next words left her mouth before you could even let out a proper thank you for her compliment, “Though, I must say I am disappointed that your father had not chosen my own son to be your husband. We were heavily in discussion regarding it.”

Your eyebrows furrow as your head turned over in the direction of your father who was seated to your left, “I must say, Princess, I did not know I had many suitors.”

“Why would she want to marry your Strong son, dear sister, when she had better offers?” Aemond spit the words out hatefully at the same time you try to answer her, glaring over her shoulder at the son in question. Jacaerys.

You’d met him on a few occasions, and he was a kind boy. A little closer to your age than your now husband. You didn’t think you knew him well enough to warrant any sort of affections from him, but you suppose that doesn’t matter, since you’d only met Aemond once as children before your father received the letter of the marriage offer from the Hand of the King.

“Aemond,” Alicent had hissed through gritted teeth, “this is a joyous occasion, one you had wanted so desperately. So, please, do not.”

Your now husband huffed out a bitter laugh before grabbing his cup and drowning the rest of his drink. You furrow your eyebrows at her words and look to Aemond slightly confused. He wanted to desperately marry you?

Rhaenyra ignored his comment and stayed looking at you, eyebrows having a slight furrow at your words, “You are a beautiful young woman and you come from one of the great houses, I can promise you that your father was drowning in marriage offers. But I do hope you will be happy here, with my dear brother.”

She walks away before you could say anything, tensing to stop a flinch when Aemond slammed his cup down harshly.

“That fucking cunt. How dare she come over here and say all those things. As if we did not just get married. As if your husband is not sitting right fucking next to you.” He was seething, and it honestly shocked you. You have barely even spoken to him; you really didn’t think he even liked you much.

“Aemond, you will watch your mouth in front of your wife,” Alicent spoke out, slightly baffled that he would say such things in front of you, in front of your family.

Your father is tense next to you, and you place your hand on his own and squeeze. This can’t be that bad. You can endure it.

As you look at Aemond, you can’t help but wonder if he will even be so bad. As if he can hear your thoughts, his hand moves to rest tenderly on your own.

The rest of the evening blurs together until Aegon stumbled his way over to where you were seated, “I believe we should be approaching the bedding ceremony soon, dear brother?”

And though his words had been directed at your husband, you felt his lust and drunk eyes on you. The mention of the bedding ceremony had you tense, and Aegon’s eyes don’t do anything to soothe your nerves.

“There will be no bedding ceremony.” Aemond spoke without a waver in his voice. What?

Aegon’s head snapped towards his brother, “And why the fuck not? It’s tradition.”

Aemond hummed, unamused, “I will not make a spectacle of my lady wife.” His words make your heart soften slightly

“She will not be your lady wife for long if there is no proof.” Aegon tried not to sound as desperate as he felt.

“There will be blood on my sheets come morning and a babe in her belly,” Aemond spoke as he stood up, towering over his older brother before he moved his face close enough to where no one, except you- much to your embarrassment, “though I do suppose if you are that concerned, you may stand outside my quarters and listen for the confirmation that my marriage has been consummated.”

Aemond takes your hand and pulls you from the room after that, moving quickly as if attempting not to be noticed.

“Why are we not doing the bedding ceremony? Is it not tradition? Will we not get in trouble?” Your voice is slightly panicked at the idea of getting in trouble for not doing what you are supposed to do, causing him to stop outside the door of his chambers and look at you.

“I would not feel like a very good husband if there were a bunch of old men with greedy eyes seeing your bare body before I got to see it,” He looks serious, and he sounds it as well. Though his voice lowers slightly into a possessive tone when the next words come out, “I also would not like anyone to see it after I do.”

                                                        εїз

Large hands take the many pins out of your hair before gently starting to unknot and remove the many intricate braids the servant girls spent hours doing not long ago. It feels like a waste, makes you feel as if you are a spectacle for viewing and gawking at only.

Which you suppose you are- if you were being honest with yourself. You’d been lucky to inherit not only your mother’s beauty, but as well as the charm that all the women from your lord fathers house seem to have.

You wonder why he insisted that the handmaiden leave, from what your mother told you it was typical of them to prepare you for the upcoming moments.

Your hair is abandoned for the strings at the back of your dress once Aemond has removed all the braids. The air is cold on your back and your hands are shaking when his own move to touch your bare skin in a way that no one else has. One hand is on the nape rubbing in an almost affectionate way as the other moves to pull the extravagant gown from your body.

You didn’t think you could get anymore tense than you already were, until your wedding dress dropped from your body unceremoniously onto the cold ground.

Goosebumps cover your body as you’re fully exposed to the cold air, despite the fire going in the fireplace. His hands move to map your body, starting at your shoulders and slowly moving down to your hips.

His lips on your neck causes you to gasp in surprise, your belly warming at the feeling of not only his lips on you but his hands on your hips, squeezing softly at the skin and biting back a grown when the reach your ass.

His mouth moves from your neck to your shoulders, leaving wet, open mouthed kisses on your skin as he makes his way down your back. You close your eyes at the unfamiliar feeling stirring inside you, a surprised gasp escaping you when a dull bite lands on your hip.

You feel his smile against your skin as he does the same to your other hip before he stands up to make his way around your body.

He stands in front of you, fully clothed still despite having taken off all of your clothing, leaving you bare for him to feast upon with his eye.

Aemond’s hands are calloused and rough, you assume from years of sword training and dragon riding, as they caress your face. His bright eye locked on yours, watching for any reactions. Thumbs trace under your eyes, over your nose, and your lips.

“Have you ever been touched this way?” His voice is quiet as his hands move down your neck towards your collarbones.

“No, my Prince,” Your voice pitches up at the end when his mouth finds your neck again, his teeth piercing your skin again.

“Not even your own hands?” His tone is serious but the smirk you feel against your skin lets you know he’s teasing.

You feel your face heat up at his implication. “No. Never.”

Aemond lets out a pleased hum at your words, soft voice stirring something primal in him.

His mouth is on yours before you can think of something else to say. His lips are a little dry, something you didn’t notice when he kissed you earlier at the wedding. One hand grips your hip as the other tangles into your hair, tugging lightly causing you to gasp. He takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

It’s an unfamiliar feeling, all of it is, though. You’re overwhelmed and throbbing at your core.

Can he hear your heartbeat as well as you can? It’s pounding in your ears along with a rush of heat that takes over your whole body.

His tongue coaxes yours to move against it, and you wonder if this is how it’s supposed to feel. If you’re supposed to feel this good. Are you even allowed to feel this good? Your handmaiden had told you on many occasions      that men only cared for their own pleasure, and you would be feeling a lot of pain. This didn’t feel like anything she described.

Aemond pulls his mouth from yours and looks at you with a hooded eye, pupil so blown you can’t see the blue of it. There’s a light flush on his cheeks as he looks at your swollen lips.

“You are quite beautiful, my lady.” It’s said so quietly, you wonder if it was supposed to be a secret. You’d like to know all his secrets, you think.

When you don’t respond, his mouth attaches itself to your neck. A sharp pain if him biting is followed by a light sucking as if to soothe it.

You aren’t sure where to put your hands, they’ve stayed at your side due to your shyness and uncertainty.

“Have you been with many women?” The question leaves your mouth before your mind even processes that you’ve asked it.

His mouth stops moving against your skin as your blood runs cold, shaking, and wide eyed when he pulls away to look at you.

Sharpe eye studies your features, like a lion about to eat a lamb. Or, perhaps, a dragon ready to burn a rose.

He steps back, taking your hand as he sighs and looks away from you in, shame?

“When I was thirteen, Aegon took me to a brothel. Told me it was time to get it wet,”

You grimace at his word choice, but when you see how he’s looking at you, you squeeze his hand.

“To put it lightly, my dear lady, it was not a very nice experience. I have been with very few women since,”

Shame fills you at his words, and before he can continue you speak quickly, “I am so sorry, I did not mean to push you into speaking about an event you-“

His hands are back on your face, holding your cheeks, “You are my wife.” It’s a statement, and his words come out slightly harsh, “You are entitled to every piece of me. I will tell you everything you wish to know about me,”

His kiss is full of fire this time, claiming your lips with such an intensity. His body is pressed full against yours; you can feel his toned chest through his shirt. The fabric is soft against your chest, and as if they have a mind of their own, your hands start grasping at them hem of it desperately.

“Aemond,” It’s the first time you’ve spoken his name that way, he likes the way it sounds. Desperate, needy. Maybe he just likes that it comes from you.

Aemond was nine the first time he saw you, still had both eyes back then. You’d been visiting the Keep with your father. The King wanted updates about something, Aemond didn’t know or care what it was. All he knew was that you were the prettiest girl he’d ever seen.

You had such grace and were so kind. Helaena didn’t have many friends at court due to her fascination with insects. But you held all the creepy crawlers she held out to you, spent the day reading to her so she didn’t have to pull herself away from the bugs.

You were younger than him, but he didn’t care. He liked the way your voice sounded as you read to Helaena, how you laughed when she would whisper out name ideas for her bugs and then look to you to see if the name suited the bug, how you smiled at him when you would catch him sitting just far enough to not be seen but to hear.

You left with your father, and then a year later he heard a servant that you’d been taken to Winterfell to see how you’d pair with Cregan Stark.

After he lost his eye, he told his mother it was a fair trade, and that he’d gotten Vhagar in return, so it didn’t matter. But after he heard Rhaenyra speak of you to Daemon, of her hopes to marry you to Jace, he back tracked.

When they returned to King’s Landing from Driftmark, he told his mother he felt like he deserved to choose his future bride- and that he would want you in return for his lost eye. Truly the rest was history; she brought the request to Viserys stating that it was the least he could be given after what was taken from him.

Viserys allowed it but stated that it would have to be on your father’s terms on when and how if he agreed. It was no surprise that he did agree, though. Lord Tyrell is a proud man and agreed after a few years of discussion and persuasion.

“My lady,” Your thighs involuntarily press together at the way he says it, like he owns you; and he does.

He smirks at the way your body reacts to him just speaking, “May I touch you?”

You moan and breathe out a whine, “If you’d like,”

He pulls away from you just enough to remove the shirt from his body, and then he grabs your hands and places them on his chest.

“I’d like it if you would touch me as well,” His request comes out confident, almost like a demand. Almost everything he says causes more and more heat to flood your body and your lower stomach.

Your shy hands trace over the whole expanse of his chest, rubbing, squeezing, light scratching. Your eyes stay on his face, drinking in every reaction. The way he opens his mouth and lets out a breathy gasp, how his eye closes, and head goes back when you scratch lightly over his pectoral muscles.

With a sudden surge of confidence, you slowly move closer and place a light kiss on his neck. A quiet groan leaves his mouth in response, and you take it as encouragement to continue. A hand moves to your head, lightly holding the back of your neck in place as you suck and bite as he did to you.

You don’t register that he’s been moving you backwards until your knees hit the bed, causing you to gasp and pull away.

Both his hands are back on your face as he slowly lowers you so you’re lying flat, you go to question him when he doesn’t join you, but to your confusion he moves to his knees between your legs.

“What are you-“ The question dies on your tongue when you feel his hands move up your thighs and close to your core.

This is definitely not normal. You’ve never heard of this being part of any bedding. In a panic your hands rush to his face as it gets closer to your core, “What are you doing?”

His eye finds yours and studies your face before smirking, “Just lay back and let me make you feel good, wife.”

Before you can respond you feel his tongue on you, no- in you.

“Oh, gods.”

It’s really unlike anything you’ve ever felt, it’s nearly overwhelming. All you can feel is him. His hands on your inner thighs holding you open for him, his fingers gripping so hard they’re surely leaving bruises, his tongue, gods his tongue.

A finger lightly traces at your entrance, teasingly. The finger makes its way inside you as he sucks on your clit.

“Aemond,” He pulls away at his name leaving your mouth, eye finding you with your head back and hands clutching the bedding at your sides so tightly your knuckles are turning white.

His free hand reaches for one of your own, intertwining your fingers, eye not leaving your face as he adds another inside you, scissoring the two of them lightly while his thumb rubs circles on your clit.

“Do you feel good?” His tone is slightly cocky, but when your eyes look at his face, you see he looks slightly shy.

Before you can respond, his fingers curl inside you and you’re eyes are squeezing shut as a sharp whine leaves your mouth. He hums thoughtfully at your reaction before doing the same thing again, again, again until.

“Oh, please, please, please,” Your nails are digging into his skin, so hard it may be drawing blood, and your thighs begin shaking by his head when his mouth finds your clit again. His fingers don’t falter inside you until your voice pitches up due to the overstimulation.

You finally open your eyes and watch as he sticks the two fingers that had just been inside you into his mouth before looking at you with a smirk as he leans his head back down to lick from the bottom of your cunt back up to your clit.

Wheezing, your thighs move to close themselves as both your hands reach for his head to push him away from you.

Aemond lets out a laugh as he pulls away from your cunt and crawls up your body. Big arms cage you in as he looks at you with something akin to adoration.

“You taste so good,” He says it in such an attractive manner, you’ve never though any words like that would sound so good coming from someone’s mouth. “Would you like to try it?”

You flush at his words, embarrassment filling you before you nod shyly. His smirk deepens as he presses his mouth to yours.

You moan at the feeling of his mouth back on your own, gasping when his hands places itself on your breasts and tweaks with your nipples, and Aemond takes the opportunity to shove his tongue in your mouth when you do.

The taste is slightly sweet, slightly bitter. Tangy, would be a better word, maybe like a Dornish wine or an orange. His cock is straining in his pants as he presses himself up against your cunt, the size takes you by surprise. It feels large, much bigger than his fingers and much too big to fit inside you, but between the feeling of his hands on your breasts, the heat coming off of his bare chest where your hands dig into his shoulders, and the taste of yourself on his mouth as his tongue maps out the inside of your mouth.

A surge of boldness fills you and you remove a hand from one of his shoulders and reach between the two of you, grabbing lightly and unsurely at his cock. The action causes him to pull away from you as a surprised moan leaves his mouth.

There’s a fire in his eye as he looks at you, watching you as you look up with him with uncertain yet shining eyes at everything you’re feeling for the very first time. At his hands no less.

A smirk crawls it’s way back on it’s face, “Do you want to make me feel good, little wife?”

“Yes,” Your answer causes him to let out a pleased hum, but to your confusion he pulls your hand away from his cock.

“Next time I’ll teach you how to please me the way I did you. I don’t want to overwhelm you this time,” His eye holds tenderness as he says the sweet words that light your body on fire.

“This is not how I expected tonight to go,” Your shy words cause a sympathetic smile to show on his features.

“Many husbands don’t care for their wife’s pleasure,” His hands are untying the laces on his pants as he moves up from the bed to strip himself of them. Pride fills him when your eyes widen at the site of his cock.

It’s long and thick, it sits hard and proud up against his stomach, almost hitting his naval. It’s as pale as the rest of him, slightly red at the tip. A bead of precum drips from the tip and down his shaft, your eyes follow it to his balls. There also big, no surprise. The hair so pale that if there is any, you can’t see it. They look heavy, almost uncomfortable.

“Does it hurt?” The question spills out of your mouth, and Aemond wants to laugh until he sees how serious you are.

“No, it’s just uncomfortable,” You’re wide eyes find his face again, another question that almost makes him laugh.

“Will it fit inside me?” You really don’t think it will, or if it does, it’ll be in your stomach. The though makes you nervous.

“We’ll go slow, if you’d like,” He crawls back on top of you, hands finding your thighs so he can fit his body in between them.

His cock is hot against the skin of your thigh, the tip lightly brushes your folds causing you to shiver. His hand grabs at the base of his cock, guiding the tip from your clit to your hole, then back up. Little gasps leave you every time it bumps against your clit or catches on your tight hole.

Aemond holds a lot of restraint, but he can only hold so much, “I’m going to put it in now,”

He looks to you for you to consent, but tenses when your hands shyly reach up at the leather straps of the patch covering his eye.

“Can you take this off?” Your eyes hold no fear, just slight uncertainty.

His face doesn’t change at all, “I’d rather not scare you-“

“I am bare before you, as your wife. You could be bare for me as my husband, as well.” You’re voice doesn’t shake at all, for the first time all evening, he notes.

With a sigh, he takes his hand from your thigh and closes his eye as he takes the patch off. He doesn’t want to see your inevitable reaction of fear or disgust before you turn over and have him take you from behind.

Aemond flinches when he feels your hand tracing his scar, from his forehead, over the sapphire in place of where his eye should be, down to where it ends.

He hears you take in a shaky breath before your mouth is diving up towards his, and for the first time all evening you’ve taken control of something. He enjoys it, the way your tongue forces its way into his mouth.

He kisses you back with the same amount of energy, sucking on your tongue and nipping at your lips until you pull away. His eye studies you, the lust filled look in your eyes and flush covering you with swollen, wet lips.

“You may take me now, Aemond,” The words are but a whisper, but he hears you clearly.

His cock is, now, painfully hard as he nods and tightens his grip so he can carefully guide himself inside you.

He hisses though his teeth at the feeling of your cunt, slick and warm and tight, enveloping his cock. You’re the tightest thing he’s ever felt.

An animalistic feeling nearly overcomes him. He feels a primal need to shove his cock all the way inside you, rip through your maidenhead and fuck you full of him. He want to see your blood on his cock as he thrust inside you, fill you full of him, fuck you so hard there’s no questioning if his seed took tonight.

The feeling is slightly different for you. The stretch is uncomfortable, and it stings slightly, it causes you to feel so full you may burst or overfill. He goes slow, like he promised, but you can feel his body shaking above you as he restrains himself from taking you like an animal.

When he reaches the barrier of your maidenhead, he halts, “I have to push a little harder, here,”

A flash of fear flashes through your eyes for a brief moment before you nod for him to continue.

With a shaky exhale, he pulls back slightly and then pushes forward sharply, a little too sharply. Because the next thing he knows you’ve got tears streaming down your face and his pelvis is flush with yours. It’s hot and so, so tight. It, you, feel so fucking good.

His mouth is hanging open slightly as he breathes heavily, trying to gain control over himself. When he looks down at you, he feels guilt coarse through him.

“Oh, fuck, I’m so sorry,” You take not that while his voice doesn’t sound sorry, his eye shows that he is. Hands reach for your cheeks so he can wipe the tears that have been falling from your eyes away.

You remove an arm from around his shoulder and move your hand to grip at a wrist that is by your face, “It’s okay-“

His voice is strained, “Oh, fuck, it’s not. I told you we would go slow,”

His eye holds guilt, but you can’t help but notice how beautiful he looks above you. No eye patch covering his features, his hair, though still pulled back, slightly messy, sharp facial features gleaming in the moonlight and the light from the fire.

He thinks you look unreal. Hair, still slightly curled, sits around you beautifully, eyes are gleaming with stars in the despite the tears from the pain still lingering, lips bruised and swollen from his own mouth.

“You can move now,” He looks unsure at your words and goes to speak his protests, but you interrupt. “Take me, husband.”

He obliges to your demand, pulling his hips back before pushing them forward. He goes slow at first, in and out at a steady rhythm, relishing in the moans and gasps and whines that leave your mouth, the chants of his name Aemond, Aemond, Aemond.

He dips his head to kiss your cheeks, down your jaw and latches onto your neck, sucking bruises into your skin as he starts thrusting deeper, harder. His pelvis grinds against your clit, and between that sensation, the pace of his thrusts when his cock hits the same spot his fingers found earlier and up to your cervix, his mouth on your neck, it doesn’t take long for your cunt to start clenching on his cock harder.

A deep groan leaves him at the way your cunt grips his cock, sucking him in and trying to keep him there forever. He would gladly stay inside you forever.

He pulls away from your neck to look at you, wanting to look at your face as you cum around his cock, as you feel his cum inside you.

Your eyes are rolled back so far he can only see the whites of them, bruises litter your collarbones and neck, marks of him all over you. Your nipples are hard and brush against his chest as your back arches while you lose yourself in the pleasure.

His balls tighten up more the longer he looks at you, and he moves his thumb to your clit, pushing you over the edge after one, two, three circles over it.

“Aemond!” Your voice sounds heavenly when you moan his name. His hips don’t falter their pace nor does his thumb stop rubbing until your cunt has loosened its vice grip on his cock. He fucks you through your orgasm and through the aftershocks before he grabs one of your legs.

You’re still shaking from your orgasm when you feel him lift your leg up and over his arm and onto his shoulder before he’s leaning over you. Your eyes shoot open at the newer, deeper angle.

“I don’t think-“

Before the sentence can leave your mouth, his hips pick up a pace very unlike the one you had just grown accustomed to. Your eyes cross as your hands shot up to his shoulders, trying to push him away and stop the overstimulation.

His head is thrown back in deep pleasure, groans and low moans of your name leaving his mouth as he listens to the wet slap, slap, slap of his body meeting yours. His pace picks up and becomes less rhythmic as his orgasm hits him.

You cry out his name with tears running down your face as your cunt clenches down for a third time, squeezing him so tightly that all he can do is push all the way in and let his cum flood you. His hips lightly move back and forth, fucking himself and you through your orgasms as you feel his cum fill you so much it starts slipping out around his cock and down your ass.              

He stays inside you as your shake in the aftermath, feeling sweaty and sticky as he presses his cheek against your own, breathing you in and just feeling you for a while before he finally pull back just enough to look at you. Bodies still pressed together, cunt still plugged with his cock to hold his cum in, to make sure it takes. To make sure his son is filling you.

His eye is holding yours in a stare, and a soft smile takes over his face as you smile up at him tiredly. He feels something warm ignite in his chest as you look at him, the glow of the orgasm, the smile on your face, a sparkle in your eyes that looks like stars.

Aemond presses his mouth to yours before you can say anything. He wonders to himself if he can light your world up the way you’re already doing his.

#aemond smut #aemond imagine #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd smut #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #house of the dragon smut #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon x reader

[eccentricwritingbaby]

baby, incoming!

carlos sainz x fem!singer!reader

summary - you and carlos have been married for over a year now and you’ve gone MIA. what could be the reason? new music or a new beginning? maybe both?

fc - emrata

masterlist

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Liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, yourusername and 345,765 others

scuderiaferrari our boys are ready, tifosi! are you? #MexicoGP

username they are so attractive its crazy

username lets all pray ladies and gents that there will be a ferrari double podium

username now that is a reach but im right there with you

carlossainz55 ready as always!

username do we think yourusername will actually be there… she hasnt been to the last like 4 gp’s 

username idk but im hoping mothers absence is bc of a new album drop

username omggg pleaseee ive been needing her music

charles_leclerc <3

“and you’re sure you’ll be alright while i’m gone, mi amor?” carlos asks you for what feels like the hundredth time as he is packing up his suitcase. you sigh, walking out of your shared closet and placing another one of his clean ferrari polos into the suitcase and then heading to take a seat on the bed next to his luggage.

“quierdo, soy perfecto. i am pregnant, not dying. now please stop worrying about me while your parents as well as mine stay down the street. i am not alone, mi amor, and you are my first call if anything happens,” carlos listens carefully as he forgets about packing momentarily to come stand between your legs that were dangling off the bed, you reach out as he moves closer to hold both of his hands in yours in order for him to receive the message fully, “porfa, i will be fine just like i have been before,”

carlos gives a quick squeeze to your hands and a brief kiss on your forehead as he soaks in the words he was just told, “yo sé, cariño. i just hate missing everything and leaving you while you need me,” the guilty, solemn look on his face is enough for you to quickly stand, remove his hands from yours and wrap your arms tight around him.

he reciprocates the hug quickly with his hands finding your waist with a firm grip, “mi amor you've been there for me constantly and will be there for our baby once they come; besides me being stuck at home will finally give me an excuse to finish out my album so you have no reason to feel guilty,” you slowly loosen your grip in order to look into his warm, inviting eyes yet his hands never leave your waist.

he gives you a short kiss and then begins to speak up once more, “i just wish we could announce you’re pregnant already so that i could be with you, i hate being apart already and this just makes it harder,” he leans his forehead on yours as his hands disappear from your waist in order to lightly begin caressing your small yet prominent bump, “i know, my love, but my manager would kill me if she could not find a way to make one short announcement work in my albums favor, even if it means capitalizing on my baby,” you say with a short laugh.

carlos just smiles on with you by saying, “welcome to hollywood,” there is then a small kiss, a finished packing job, a sad goodbye and then a long plane ride for carlos as he arrives for the mexico grand prix. 

carlossainz_fanpage looks like carlos is riding solo again, now for the mexican gp … trouble in paradise? new music? baby bump? who knows but i miss our mother

username it looks like hes still wearing his ring in the pictures of him arriving and all the ones ive seen

username oh thank god bc i cannot handle being a child of divorce rn

username me neither i rlly hope its the complete opposite and us children are gaining a brother or sister

username omgggg i hope she is pregnant she’d just be the cutest

username pleaseeee i need an album from her its been like two years now i cant take it

username RIGHT?! she got married and abandoned us :/

you had already received a text from carlos telling you that he landed and was heading to his hotel and then the paddock and he would call you later.

something about his words earlier had been sticking with you all day in the back of your head, ‘i hate being apart already and this just makes it harder’.

you and carlos had known each other before the fame with your parents being friends and the both of you have dated throughout it. you rarely were apart as you would go to almost all his races and travel with him and in turn during his breaks you would tour and he would tag right along. it had always worked beautifully since the flexibility of your job allowed you to work from ultimately anywhere, therefore why not spend it following and being with the love of your life? the distance from carlos was difficult, not even remotely from distrust or anything negative, just the simplicity of missing out.

you made a fast but firm decision and began to pack a bag. you gave a quick call to your mother in law informing her of your plan and letting her know you’d be by soon to drop off the dogs and then she began to insist she even drive you to the airport.

she has always loved you like a daughter for as long as you and carlos have been together claiming ‘she is just so good for him, no sé’.

then there is a quick flight, a large hoodie thrown on, and a pregnant y/n waiting right outside carlos’ hotel door.

your hand is brought up and with a sharp knock you stand still simply waiting. carlos takes a minute to open the door and as he does his eyes immediately light up, “y/n!” he makes haste to pull you into his room and into his arms immediately, “qué haces aquí?”

“ay! you’re asking me what i’m doing here instead of a long i love you my beautiful wife thank you for coming,” you mock and joke as he continues to rock you back and forth in his hold.

“lo siento, amor, gracias para coming all this way,” he leans back to look into your eyes while one of his hands finds its way to your bump,

“i was just confused because everyone is going to see, no?” he continues. you nod and begin to laugh while saying, “to be completely honest, carlos, i dont give a fuck. my fans will either buy my album or won't, it doesn't depend on our child. and i for sure am not going to miss out on seeing you race or rob you from any papi/baby time just for a stupid album,” he listens to you speak while his eyes begin to glisten over with happiness, “y/n, i’m so happy porfa can we post now so that i can take you out to a nice dinner and we can actually be people again,” he finishes off his sentence with a laugh.

you just simply smile, nod and give him his answer in a long-awaited passionate kiss. “gracias dios,” he whispers against your lips with a small sigh as you just let out a giggle.

you were a bit nervous before but now after being with carlos and seeing his relief you know you made the right decision. 

yourusername and carlossainz55 baby sainz coming soon <3

comments on this post have been disabled.

y/ncarlos_updates PREGGERS Y/N ARRIVING IN THE PADDOCK TODAY!

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username MOTHER IS AN ACTUAL MOTHER

username and our daddy is about to be an actual daddy!!

username they are going to be the most attractive parents ever

username stop im so happy for them this is so cute

username their entire childhood bff to lovers trope and now they’re having a baby like dream come true

username no fr its like watching them grow up before our eyes its so cute

username shes still got such good style even when pregnant i am green with envy rn

username that makes two of us

username u just know the gc is blowing up rn with which driver is going to be godfather

username we all know that if it is a driver itll be landonorris

landonorris damn right

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#carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x y/n #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #carlos sainz social media au #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz jr imagine #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz jr x you #carlos sainz jr smut #carlos sainz jr fanfic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #lando norris #cs55 #cs55 x reader #cs55 imagine #cl16 #scuderia ferrari #ln4 #lando norris x reader #f1 social media au

[captjprice]

Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Medic!Reader

He doesn't trust anyone else.

mentions : fluff, slight hurt/comfort, cute, simons adorable, fem reader

The noise and chaos of Medical has become background noise with how long you've worked here, and despite being able to hear everyone talking, it fades out in your ears.

You're working on a patient with a minor injury, having a new doctor shadow you as you explain the basics of wound cleaning and bandaging. You falter when you hear a familiar voice.

"I already told you, I don't want you doin' it."

You stay still for a moment, listening in on the conversation until the doctor that was shadowing you clears their throat. "Oh, right. Just a moment." You mumble with a half-smile. You make your way to where the commotion is coming from, finding Simon on one of the medical beds clutching his side. He looks pissed. "This needs fixing, it-" The nurse infront of him stammers, confused why he won't just let her treat him. "No. I want her to do it." Simon grunts, gesturing to you. "Why the hell has she been doing it this whole time, and now she can't?" He grumbles. You let out a little breath. "Simon. I'm busy with a patient. Let her treat you." You reason, gesturing to the wound on his stomach. "That needs to be treated. Quick." You place your hands on your hips, shifting slightly.

"Get her to do the patient. I want you to do this." He says, unmoving and keeping his eyes locked on you. You rub your temple in slight annoyance, even though you can't bring yourself to get upset with him. He's never been keen on touch, you know that. With the things he's been through you can't fault him for it. "Christ, fine. Tara, please take over for me. I have a doctor shadowing." You explain to the nurse who was originally trying to help Simon. With a wave of your hand she shuffles off and closes the curtains.

Simon's shoulders untense as you begin to lay out supplies to tend to him, and he stares at you. He's not judging. You've learned that Simon just likes looking at you, watching the way you do certain little things. "You can't do this every time." You mutter, undoing his gear and pushing his shirt up. For a moment you think Simon didn't hear you, but he looks away. "I can. And I will. You know I don't trust the others." He says, holding his shirt up. "That's okay, but it isn't what I meant. If i'm not on the battlefield with you and something happens, someone else will have to patch you up." You say softly, just the thought of it makes you uneasy. Simon, dying. He stays silent, only making a small noise as you clean the wound on his abdomen. You can practically feel his gaze boring into you, though. You know he thinks you're a beautiful lady, he's let it slip once or twice, covering it up every time by saying 'everyone is beautiful' type of bullshit. "How'd the mission go?" You chirp, hoping to break the weird silence. "Bloody awful. As you can tell. Target got away." He says, his hand balling into a fist at the sting of the alcohol. Simon huffs.

"You'll get 'im next time," You say softly, glancing up and giving a small smile. You can't really tell, but he gives the smallest smile back and nods. There was often this weird unspoken thing between the two of you, which caused Simon to feel so safe in your presence. He'd ask for you when he was hurt, always. You guessed it was just your gentleness that had him so trusting of you. He rarely let others touch him because it caused so many bad memories, but with you they didn't seem to resurface.

"Thank you for making time for me, love." He spoke, a little softer than usual. You knew how much it meant to him. You slowly reach around him to tie the bandage around his waist, glancing up at him as you tie it. Simon tilts his head and his eyes narrow, like he's smiling. It makes you nervous, and your cheeks tint a little red when you move back. "Oh, you gettin' nervous? Why's that?" He asks, and you're positive he's grinning. Simon reaches out to grab your arm, and pulls you that little bit closer. You're not really sure what to say, you never really are with him..

You stare at him, not even bothering to move away again. He's always managing to have you close.

"You were looking at me." You mumble, then gazing towards the side table. "So?" Simon asks, moving to sit a little more comfortable and thrusting his hips slightly to scoot forward. The action has you a little distracted, so you clear your throat. "Don't.. do that." You say, and he lets out a low chuckle. "'S too bad," Simon muses. "You got a pretty face." He's still watching you, searching for a reaction he'll definitely get. You shift slightly. "So you've said." You say, beginning to clean the supplies. "It's true. But you know that ain't the reason why you're the only one treating me." He states, and you hum in response.

Simon doesn't seem satisfied with your response and leans forward, grabbing your waist and tugging you back to him. You let out a small noise of protest, but he keeps you firm against his chest. He lowers his head so it's right next to yours and speaks, "You know how much you mean to me, love?" In response, you nod with wide eyes. "Good. Don't forget it." He says lowly. You're a bit frozen in place when he pulls up the lower half of his mask to reveal his mouth. Simon's lips hover above yours, and in a quick movement you press your lips against his, assuming it's what he wanted.

And you were right. He groans into your mouth, his hands rubbing from your waist to your back, squeezing you closer. You sloppily kiss him, pulling back to catch your breath. "Mindful of your wound." You blabber, mind a bit too hazed. Simon chuckles and tilts his head. "Can't you just enjoy yourself for a moment?" He teases, leaning in to kiss you again. His hands move down to your thighs, trying to get you onto the medical bed. You clumsily climb onto his lap while kissing him, almost sliding off but his firm grip on your ass keeps you seated. Simon pulls back with a grin, lightly tugging your hair. You whine in response, suddenly being shot back to the reality of your situation. "Simon, maybe not here-.." You whisper, grabbing onto his arms.

He seems to mull it over for a moment, before giving a curt nod and letting you slide back onto the ground "After your shift, then. My quarters." He says lowly, trying to conceal the hard-on in his pants as he gets off the bed. You stifle a laugh and give him some painkillers, shoving him towards the door.

You'd regret that stifled laugh later.

#cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #call of duty #call of duty x reader #cod mwii #cod x reader #ghost cod #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #mw2 #ghost mw2 #x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost #fluff #cute

[delimeats-000]

Just the Editor

summary: chris teasing the podcast editor takes a little turn

warnings: language, make outs, dry humping

requested.

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im editing a podcast for THE sturniolo triplets. this is big, like huuge. these guys got me through senior year of hs, and now im their editor, like wtf.

on the set beyond the wall that divides us i can hear the guys laughing with one another.

they’ve been recording for about 2 and a half hours. they should be done soon and come check the final product of the last pod i edited.

soon enough they finish their current recording and come to the editors office.

“Hey y/n/n.” nick says.

“Hey nick.” i get out of my chair to hug him and greet the other boys. “Im pretty much done if you guys wanna take a peek on the last episode.”

“Oh i have a meeting with madi and laura that matts gonna drive me to.” nick hesitates. “If chris is up for it he can stay and watch.”

“Yeah i can come pick him up after the meeting.” matt chimes in.

“Ok sounds good.”

no it doesn’t, two of three triplets gone leaving me with the third that i just so happen to be absolutely smitten over.

matt interrupts my thoughts, “Alright cool. We’ll be back.”

“Be good Chris.” nick laughs before heading out the door and closing it behind him.

i turn to face chris. i hope to god he doesn’t see how nervous i am.

“Ok so you ready?”

“Uhh yeah, you got pepsi?”

“Yeah there should be some in the fridge downstairs.”

“You wanna lead me over there? Please?”

“Of course.” i stand up and quickly walk to the foor opening it for him.

“No no, ladies first.” he winks.

fuck.

“Thanks.” wtf, THANKS, dumbass.

he laughs tho, ok cool, play it cool.

we walk down the stairs and into the kitchen in silence.

“Do you want one or two?” i say bent over in the fridge reaching for his pepsi. he steps close behind me, resting his hand on my lower back.

“Lemme get two, just in case.”

“ok.” i feel weak, his hand feels so firm and strong.

compared to the cold room i was in his hand is hot and the temperature change makes me shiver.

“Are you ok?” he asks as i stand up.

“Yeah just cold.”

“Here take my sweatshirt.”

before i can decline the offer he’s already taking it off revealing a wife beater that lifts halfway up his torso as the sweatshirt comes off. my eyes go wide and i dont get the chance to fix my expression before he notices the blush on my face.

he laughs softly, “Here goof, put it on.”

i take the sweater and put it on.

“You look good.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem, lets go watch the pod.”

“Yeah.”

my face is most definitely flushed, im hot, genuinely burning up and the sweater is making this worse now, but it smells so good. i cant take it off, not yet.

“Ok here you go.” i pass him my laptop and headphones so he can watch the pod on the loveseat in the office.

“Yo, you’re not gonna watch with me?”

“Uh, i guess i can.”

he scoots over and hands me the other headphone. he presses play. i cant even focus on the video in front of me, all i can think about is the fine ass man right next to me. shoulder to shoulder i swear i can feel his heart beat. there’s no way in hell im playing this cool. i just know im shaking. please god dont let him notice.

but he does anyways.

he pauses the video, “Is everything ok.”

i dont want to look him in the eyes, im gonna give it up. “Mhm, yeah.”

“Look at me.” he says quiet and gentle. but i dont look.

he grabs my face turning me towards him.

“I said look at me.”

he’s serious this time, his tone still quiet but now firm.

“Sorry.” i mumble.

“Shh, don’t apologize.” a smile grows on his face. “Whats on your mind?”

i shrug, struggling to make eye contact.

“Tell me, baby.”

im sure he could see the shock on my face because his subtle smirk turned into a soft chuckle.

“you’re pretty, chris.”

“You think so?”

i nod my head quickly.

“You’re beautiful, y/n.” he leans closer. “Can i kiss you?”

i nod once more before his lips land on mine.

he starts slow speeding up the kiss getting more rough. his tongue now caressing mine. he slowly runs his hand down to my neck and lets the other rest on my hip.

his sloppy kisses lead down my neck and i feel him leaving his mark. i let out a moan from the sharp pain, as i reach to grab his hair.

he bites harder making me let out another moan before he lets go, breathing hard he says, “Keep moaning for me, baby.”

“Yes sir.” i say as he goes back to making out with me.

i straddle his waist taking control grinding on his dick feeling the bulge grow larger.

“Fuck. Ke-keep going.”

now kissing down his neck and grinding against his hard cock, ive got him moaning for me.

then.

there’s a knock.

“Heeeyy.”

its nick. he opens the door to me struggling to get off chris. chris is completely unfazed as im absolutely embarrassed.

“Chris.”, matt laughs. “You didn’t.”

Nicks jaw completely dropped he turns around and walks out of the room.

Matt daps up chris before leaving too.

Chris stands up walking towards me, “Call me ok?”

i nod and he kisses my cheek before heading out the door.

i fall back onto the loveseat in utter disbelief.

“He forgot his sweatshirt.”

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dialogue key: nick - matt - chris - y/n

hope you like it, love you 🫶

EDIT: Pt 2 Out Now

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #new writers on tumblr #reader insert #requests are open #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #fanfics #sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo

[cryonme]

𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐀𝐭 𝐔𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏

—graham dunne x fem!reader

—summary: the story of you and graham dunne was never simple, but his love for you never faltered.

— word count: 2.7k

—tw: addiction, implied drugging, alcohol, cursing, reader says she "doesn't wanna be here anymore", very obvious signs of mental illness, the works...

—a/n: so... I did not intend for this fic to be this long or this sad, but here we are. I'm breaking it into two parts so its easier to read, part two is coming shortly!! I apologize for how sad this is lol but I promise its a happy ending story! also, sorry for how I wrote daisy! she's my girl and I love her, it was just for the plot I swear! this is the first fic I've posted in about 6 months so im rusty, please be kind! and please, don't read if anything listed in the triggers is going to upset you, I want you all happy and comfortable! XO

(flashbacks in italics)

Nothing was ever Daisy’s fault, was it?

At least, that’s what Graham Dunne thought when he got a call from Karen saying his girl was wasted at a party with Daisy attached to your hip.

She should have known what you were struggling with, she should have known that you couldn’t handle a party, she should have known this wasn’t what you needed. Daisy Jones should’ve fucking known.

To be completely fair, they really all should’ve known. You’d been around since day 1. Everyone knew better, Daisy just happened to be the red corvette.

-

“You can’t keep doing this, my love.” Camilla whispered oh so gently, holding your hair back from your face, pressing a cold rag to your neck.

It was a small gig, at some shitty bar called Tony’s in Pittsburgh. The band always had a couple beers and maybe a shot or two before a show but you had begun to need more. You snuck vodka into your water bottles and begged the bartenders to sneak you a couple free extras by pulling your top down and leaning over the bar, using your forearms to push your tits up. 

It worked every time. Pigs.

“Can do whatever I want.” You slurred, cheek pressed to the toilet seat.

But damnit, you knew she was right.

Tony’s wasn’t the first time.

There was Rod’s, and The Ladie’s Room, and The Shiner Saloon, and some girl named Lisa’s 18th birthday party. It was becoming a pattern, everyone could tell.

You always went back to your house after a show. Your parents had been completely absent since you were 15, you never knew where they were. And after every show, their cars were never once in the driveway.

A safespace.

Billy would sit outside of the bathroom, head leaning against the door while Graham waited in the living room, arms crossed and head down, not wanting to listen to your cries and shakes of pain.

Eddie would retreat to the guest room, but he usually wouldn’t be able to fall asleep til he heard the click of your door next to his.

Warren would be passed out on the couch as soon as you all walked through the door, not that he didn’t care about you immensely, but the poor kid could just not stay awake if he was tired.

“I wanna go to bed.” You said.

Camilla sighed, “Are you sure you’re ready?”

You nodded and so did Camilla. She got up to get Billy like she always did, and he’d come and pick you up off of the bathroom floor, as he always did, and carry you to your room and lay you on the bed, letting Camilla make sure you’re comfortable, like she always did.

Graham would come in and ask how you’re doing, like he always did, and he’d make himself comfortable on your floor with throw pillows and spare blankets, like he always did.

But that night, after Tony’s, things changed.

“I can’t do this anymore, Graham.” You whimpered.

Fuck.

This was early days, Graham was still awkward as hell and didn’t know how to go about things like this.

“Do what?” He croaked, mustering up the courage to be there for you.

“This. I can’t live like this. I’m afraid I’m gonna kill myself.”

Graham was up in an instant, reaching for the doorknob. “Do you want me to get Camilla?”

You shook your head, “No, please. Just-” You wiped a tear from your cheek, “Will you just lay with me?”

“Anything.” Graham breathed as he settled into bed next to you. You immediately wrapped your arms around him, being too drunk to care about any awkwardness and Graham was thankful.

“We’ll get you out of this, promise.”

-

That was the last time anybody saw you drink anything besides a beer or two, following that was shirley temples and cherry cokes.

Nobody really knew the heaviness of addiction then, but they knew that you were happier, and that’s all that really mattered to them. You were even laughing at Warren’s jokes and Billy and Eddie’s lame bickering, everything felt okay.

“You don’t drink?” Karen had asked, the first time you properly met in California, while she was digging through the fridge searching for a beer. You shook your head, hoping you weren’t going to get some crazy reaction like you were a zoo animal in a cage like you got from most people.

She just nodded, a small smile playing at her lips as she pulled two coca cola bottles from the fridge, popping them open with her ring and handing you one.

“Cheers to that.”

You were sober enough to realize you were in love with Graham, and confident enough to tell him. And man, he could’ve exploded.

There was a celebration, at the house in Laurel Canyon, just the 7 of you.

Warren recalls later that Graham looked like he’d been dipped in sunshine and rainbows.

“Like he’d just smoked sunshine and been fucked by a rainbow. It was crazy, man.”

Well, almost.

You’d been around the band multiple times while they drank and it was never a problem. You’d have the first round of beers with them then tap out, but you always stayed and had fun, smoked a couple joints and cigarettes, never without a mocktail or coca cola in your hand. Sometimes, usually Karen or Camilla, someone would join you on the sober night, and that always felt really nice.

That night had felt different, you were scared.

-

“I’m gonna fuck him up Warren…” You said as you laid on the floor with the drummer as Down By The Seaside by Led Zeppelin played from the record player, Warren laughed.

“Yeah you are.” He said, his tone suggestive as he bumped his elbow with yours.

You rolled your eyes, fighting the heat creeping into your cheeks. “You know what I mean, man. I’m gonna ruin him.”

Warren had known you long enough and listened to enough of the songs you wrote to where he’d like to think he knew you pretty well.

And you never opened up out of the blue unless you were drunk.

“Have you been drinking?” He asked, not looking up from the ceiling. You scoffed.

“I still have a beer here and there, Warren.”

“You know what I mean, man.” He repeated your words back to you and you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“I’m going to bed.” You said and stood up, trying your hardest not to stumble or slur.

“Honey…” Warren started, pushing himself off of the floor to try to stop you.

“NO!” You whipped around, flipping your hair so forcefully it stung your face but you were quick to pull it back.

“Don’t fucking- don’t fucking do that, man!” You started, holding a hand up. “My own friends don’t even fucking trust me i’m just constantly babied! Do you know how that feels?”

At that point, Karen, Eddie and Billy had tuned in, being in the kitchen. Camilla and Graham must have been elsewhere, he had always confided in her like a sister.

“Hey–” Billy tried to interject with a hand on your wrist but you were quick to pull away.

“Huh?! Do any of you know how that feels?!” You were borderline screaming now, and everyone was speaking to you so softly, hands slowly trying to grasp you and it made you want to scream even louder.

“How dare you ‘ccuse me of something like that asshole?” You were beginning to slur your words, the tequila you’d snuck from Warren’s room starting to hit pretty heavily, making your eyes droop and words slur.

“Baby, please-” Karen started, making the move to grasp your arm but you turned and lost your balance, nearly falling but Eddie was quick to catch you, he held on tight and didn’t dare let go until you calmed down or Graham came back. Billy had left minutes ago to find him and Camilla, who had taken a walk so he could freely gush about his new girl without the chances of anyone else hearing.

“Need you to calm down, babe.” Eddie whispered, running a hand up and down your arm for comfort.

“None of you even care!”

Warren shook his head alongside Karen, both of them had squatted in front of you, doing their best to provide what you needed.

“That’s not true.”

“I fucking hate you all!” 

“You don’t mean that.”

“I don’t wanna be here anymore!”

And then he said your name.

You froze.

He was gonna leave you, you were so sure of it. You worked so hard to be better for him and it didn’t work.

“No…” You whimpered and you swore you saw Graham break in front of your eyes.

“You can’t- you can’t see this.”

But he didn’t care. He knelt in front of you and Eddie and gathered you into his own arms, completely silent as he carried you to his room and you wanted to disappear into him so badly.

“‘M so sorry…” You slurred, and still he was quiet. You let him undress you and replace your pretty top and flared jeans with his own tee shirt and boxer shorts.

You watched as he changed into a similar outfit as you picked at your nails. “Graham, I-”

He sighed and placed his hands on either sides of your cheeks, placing a firm kiss on your forehead that only made you cry harder. You brought your hands up to grip his wrists, not willing to let go of the feeling of his lips on your skin.

“I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I?”

Graham was silent again as he pulled you into his bed with him, covering you both with the large duvet.

“Not in the slightest.”

-

That night was really the last night anybody had seen you get drunk like that.

Then, Daisy Jones came along.

And you learned how to keep bad habits a secret.

Tequila and mints in the bathroom, water and cherry cokes with the band. A shot of jameson to fall asleep. Champagne to wake up, brush your teeth. A beer in the shower after lunch, leave the evidence in Warren’s room since there were hundreds of empty ones anyway.

It’s not like Daisy was teaching you one on one, you just started watching her, and you liked the way she got away with it.

No one told Daisy about your issue either, you could hold your own and you had asked them not to, so lips were sealed.

But it took everything in Graham and Billy not to tell her to tread lightly every time they saw the two of you sneak off on your own.

And now here was Graham Dunne, sitting in the driver's seat of the van outside of God knows who’s house, with Camilla in the passenger’s seat and Billy in the back. Moral support. 

“Want us to come with you?”

Graham shook his head. “I need to do this alone.”

Billy scoffed, “I’m not gonna let you go in there with our two hot headed alcoholic rage sisters. Cam, you stay here.”

“Nope, you go I go. You two get our girl, I’ll handle Daisy.”

The three bickered a moment but finally settled on their plan. Graham and Camilla would take you, while Karen and Billy took Daisy, since the blonde girl drove.

“Fucking finally.” Karen exasperated as she saw her friends walk into the backyard of the party while trying her hardest to hold you upright.

“Where is Daisy?” Billy spat immediately, making eyes around the party. You had always been like a sister to him, in the way Camilla was to Graham, and he could’ve killed the redheaded girl in that moment.

“Beats me.” Karen said, passing off your deadweight into Graham, who was quickly supported by Billy. Your head lulled onto your boyfriend's shoulder, recognizing him as a source of comfort even in your inebriated state.

It made his soul ache.

“Is Simone here?” Camilla asked.

Karen shook her head, “Was. Split as soon as she and Daisy got into a fight. Offered to take this one” she nodded her head at you “home with her but I figured it’d be best if you guys came.”

Graham shook his head, “You made the right call, thank you.”

“Yeah, well uh, I sure as hell can’t drive. Got drunk as hell before even stepping foot in the backyard, soon as I saw (Y/n) I stepped in and called you guys immediately.”

“Do we need to get Daisy?”

“That’s a fight you sure as hell don’t wanna have. Yelled at me just for taking ‘her best friend’ away from her to get her some water.”

Billy rolled his eyes.

Graham and Billy began making their way out of the party with you slung around their shoulders, and Camilla walking arm in arm with a very drunk Karen who kept tripping over feet.

And suddenly red hair and sparkling eyes were in front of them.

“Ohhh no, what happened to my girl?” She tried to touch your face but Billy pulled you away, ready to say something before Graham spoke up, surprising everyone.

“Your girl, Daisy?!” His voice boomed, no doubt you’d be embarrassed if you were in any way conscious. “This is my girl, our girl.” He gestured to the rest of the group. “And I’d say it’s in your best interest to leave her the hell alone from now on.”

-

Graham was a mess when he got you home.

Daisy ended up at the house not too long after the rest, explaining she didn’t know the situation, apologizing profusely, informing them all you had been drinking for months. She told them in a sullen voice that you hadn’t been this bad last time she saw her, that she thinks someone must have done it to you.

Graham understood, he did. But he couldn’t look at Daisy. How could she let you out of her sight, to allow someone to do this to you? It made his stomach turn. Billy was next to his brother this time, in the living room, a hand resting on his shoulder, squeezing from time to time, and instead of standing Graham sat with his head in his hands, creating knots in his hair as he ran his fingers through it. Cam and Karen had you in the bathroom, after seeing the panic in Graham’s eyes they decided to take over that part, knowing it wouldn’t be easy for him to see. Warren stayed up, and Eddie didn’t retreat to his room, Daisy paced back and forth outside of the bathroom, biting her nails. Graham could hear it, it was driving him nuts.

“Would it kill you to be quiet for two seconds, Daisy?!” He groaned, running a hand over his red splotchy face.

Everyone knew that Graham was just upset and taking it out on Daisy, the red corvette, which wasn’t exactly fair, but they also knew better than to argue with Graham at that point.

“You know what, Graham?!” Daisy stomped into the living room, planting herself in front of the Dunne brothers with her arms crossed.

Graham didn’t look up.

“Hey, I’m talkin’ to you!” Daisy used her thumb and pointer finger to grip his chin and pull his face up to look at her and she immediately felt guilty at his tear stained cheeks and glassy eyes.

She sighed, and crouched before him.

“I know it’s hard, and I’m so, so sorry this is happening to her. But she makes her own decisions, Graham. No one could’ve stopped her.”

Graham nodded, but still wouldn’t look in her direction. “Will you go check on her, please?”

Daisy would later tell the story with a frown on her face, and she’d recall never being that scared for another person before, despite the smile she put on for Graham.

“I didn’t-” She took a breath, “I’d never seen it that bad before, at least not while I was sober. I thought she was going to die.”

Daisy retreated to yours and Graham’s shared room shortly after discovering she couldn’t stomach staying in that bathroom, deciding to make herself useful by getting the bed ready, fluffing the pillows and retrieving some fresh clothes for you to wear to bed, making sure she grabbed ones that smelled like your boyfriend. She dropped the clothes off in the bathroom, and passed along the message to Graham from Karen and Camilla that it was time to take you to bed.

This had been Billy’s job, since before The Six was even The Six, that’s how it went. But things had changed, Graham had grown, and it was his turn.

part two coming soon!

#graham dunne x reader #graham dunne imagine #graham dunne #daisy jones and the six #daisy jones and the six fanfic #warren rojas #eddie roundtree #billy dunne #daisy jones #karen sirko #karen karen #warren rojas x reader #eddie roundtree x reader #billy dunne x reader #simone jackson

[saiidahyunie]

loyalty, royalty, and death by exile

im nayeon x reader || fluff, smut, angst

synopsis: your brother's lover nayeon had already fallen for you behind his back, until she couldn't be yours to love anymore.

wc: 5.2k

warnings: smut, cursing, pining

a/n: school started again for me (naurrrrrr), but be aware for the lack of uploads. :0

—

“haven’t you heard the news?” your fellow guardmate changbin shoves your shoulder, snapping you out of your daydreaming, slapping the middle of his chest plate that makes him falter back from the surprise contact. 

“no, what did i miss?” 

“apparently your brother is in a relationship with the crown jewel of the im dynasty.” 

changbin taps your back, nicking his head for you to follow in the corridors of the castle, following along as the noises of a common area in one of the bigger rooms—the exchange of laughs and cheers once you two reach the room. hanni, one of the other guards, opens the door for you two to enter briskly without anyone noticing. 

“where were you guys?” hanni asks, signaling you to straighten your shoulder pads as changbin scrunches his nose at you, hiding a snicker as the door behind you three shuts behind. 

“apparently y/n needed some fresh air for a bit, she’s been complaining about the armor being uncomfortable.” 

“another yap from either of you two, and i’ll challenge both of you to a swordfight in the training quarters.” 

you finally move around to the edge of the room, your brother felix now in your line of sight, with his brand new love interest right beside him. you’ve only heard from word of mouth, specifically from felix himself since he asked you about relationship advice. 

despite bursting out laughing while shaking your head, your brother’s ears flaring red like there was steam coming out of them, you gave him the typical advice of charming his crush and not to do anything stupid. 

to your surprise, after one gathering at a nightly party outside in the garden, he was able to get past that hurdle with ease, his new girlfriend getting more and more interested as time went on. 

“y/n!” 

you hear felix call out to you while on your way to the horse’s barracks, his girlfriend right behind with her hand in his, a beaming smile across her face once they finally reach you. 

“you need something felix?” you ask, wiping your helmet with a finger.

“nothing, i just figured that i should thank you for your help. in return, i’d like you to meet princess im nayeon.”

“my lady, please tell me my brother here didn’t approach you with his charming deep voice.” 

nayeon laughs, clearly elated to see that you were a very easy person with a sense of humor.

“he did, but don’t worry he did a lot more work to impress me.” nayeon replies, hand clasping hers in a firm handshake, meeting eye to eye of the pretty princess that your brother had managed to rope in. 

“i hope i wasn’t interrupting something between you two, was i felix?” you ask, standing across from them with your helmet in your arm now.

“not at all, i was just taking her out to the lake just now, but we just caught you on the way.” he replies, rubbing his shoulder to ease the awkward aura. 

nayeon looks towards you, eyes trailing at your features on your face, the little strands of hair peering over your forehead, eyes steel cold but piercing with life, how meticulously structured and molded like felix’s face—nothing short in terms of visuals in your family. it was easy to say that nayeon was interested in you from the start. 

“well i don’t want to be holding up you two for too long so i’ll see you guys at dinner.” you say, a soft smile on your lips as you excused yourself from the couple. 

a quick back and forth of goodbyes and you three start to walk away to your respected activities, little did felix know was that you and nayeon would look back at each other as the distance between you two grew larger. 

—

in the several months that nayeon had walked into your life, courtesy of your brother, you found yourself indulging with nayeon more and more with the gatherings that you were assigned to oversee. 

“you don’t have to be in guard mode all the time y/n. you need to let loose sometimes like the rest of us.”

“with all due respect princess, it’s my duty to ensure the protection for you and everyone’s safety at these events.”

nayeon tsks with her mouth, leaning over to you purposefully, spilling her drink over your shoe, making you gasp out loudly over the crowds noise. 

“princes- nayeon what the fuck?!”

she laughs, hysterically.

“it’s always nice for you to have this so called responsibility to protect me, but you’re no fun if you’re just gonna stand there all tainted clad in armor. you want to drink and indulge with the rest of us don’t ya?”

“i’d give you an earful for staining my armor, but i'll save that for another time the next time i see you.”

nayeon grabs you by the hand, leading you away from your post in the garden, to a gate that leads to one of the outer concourses of the castle, an area that would be secluded for you two to get away at.

“if you want to have fun, let me get to know you more.” nayeon says, opening the gate that shows a visible trail—-away from the crowd with the woman that you’ve been interacted with that’s your brothers love interest. 

“i’ll follow you along, princess.” you say happily, extending out your hand to hers, holding her dress as you two walk down the path together. 

—

those meetings with her happen so and so often, it was basically bound to be a regular thing regardless the second you guys are in close proximity to each other. felix would be puzzled because of how you two would return together before he would see nayeon off into the night. he would ask you every now and then but most of the time you assured him that nothing bad was happening with her. 

on winter one night just like the other nights before, you’ve grown to like nayeon. you stand there idly, while the gentle specks of snow sprinkle over your guard uniform, eyes fixed on the sight of her walking down the grand staircase, arm in arm with your brother, her fiance, face radiant with a bright glow that nearly causes you to double over in gazing. 

beautiful, you wonder. she’s always been so beautiful. a small part in your mind knew it was wrong to pine after the potential connection to the nation’s throne like this, especially since you had some sort of status but the title of a disgraced member of the bloodline, who should be blessed to be in the graces of her presence. 

nayeon was different. there was no denying that. you saw the way her brow furrowed in question when both of your fathers and your brother preached that the war was the only way to achieve peace, or the way she’d beg you to accompany her as she snuck out to get away from the talks of politics. 

“we could get caught by doing this.” you whisper, helping nayeon get on the horse. 

“isn’t this supposed to be fun to you? to live with a little danger once in a while?” nayeon reoplies, wrapping her arms around your waist as you ride straight to the horizon. 

you would feel nayeon’s eyes searching for you every meeting, the way her face would be mirroring different expressions of your parents speaking to each other, causing you to snort out loud leading to getting scolded by everyone in the room. 

there was no denying your jealousy for your brother, felix, it was only natural that he would be the one to court her into a marriage while you just stood back and watched the whole thing unfold. you were fond of nayeon when you first met her, she was sweet, very open, and pretty. 

you thought about the possibility of them extending the family in the future once marriage talks were all done and set, promises of a life that you could never give her. 

on one evening, it took every bone in your body to hold back watching various people argue over nayeon’s hand, and worried that she will agree to one. a selfish call was decided when you asked her to come with you quickly, blabbering that you needed to show her something that was important to you. 

“everything okay?” nayeon asked, as you led her up the steps to a closed off balcony in the castle. 

“yeah, i just wanted to show you something.” you answer, trying to hide the jealousy running through your veins. 

fumbling around the pockets and grabbing the key that you stole from the fellow gatekeeper who was a very nice person, you opened the door to the balcony that your parents had forbidden anyone from stepping foot on or seeing. 

nayeon gasped in amazement, face glowing by the moonlight and speechless to find the words that could describe the surprise you just unveiled to her. 

she then notices the vine riddled with roses near the edge, tending to the impressive collection as you followed her, plucking one out and placing it in her arms. 

“a gift for you, princess.” 

“thank you, my guard.” 

you two would spend hours on the balcony, looking down at the various plants and talk about old memories about people they knew. nayeon then turns your body to face you, the silence filling the air with the faint sound of crickets as she looks at you fiddling with a rose in your hands. 

“y/n, is there something that you wanted to tell me?” she asks, voice peeping through a slight hope. 

“uhh.” you begin. yes, i wanted to pull you away from the meeting to tell you that i am deeply and insanely in love with you. i want to take you away from this boring hell hole of a castle and give you a world at your heart’s desires, even if it were to kill me. “nothing, just the secret balcony that no one is allowed to come up to.” you boringly say. 

“ah, okay.” is all that nayeon says, and you walk her back down, head pounding with regret. 

you remember the different nights spent together before your brother proposed to nayeon, the night at the local bar, watching the group of people dance with the mixture of many instrumental tunes. it was all so goofy to think about, making silly expressions, spinning around mindlessly to the banjo and drums playing. you noticed how nayeon’s eyes were glowing with bliss. she hardly smiles like that, you think to yourself. 

“i’m jealous of you y/n.” she says to you one night, as you two quickly walk up the hill, the rain being merciless in pouring. 

“why? what makes you say that?” you enquire, noticing an empty shed outside the castle, dragging her inside. 

you notice her shoulders shivering, her silky brown hair sticking to her face, and her cheeks hinted with red from the cold. she had a scarf wrapped around her dress that wasn’t a viable layer to keep her warm and without a second thought, you slipped off your guard jacket and draped it around her shoulders. 

nayeon looks at you with fluttering lashes, eyes full of something that you just didn’t know or notice. 

“about your question from earlier.” she starts, tightening your jacket around her body. “i’ve always been jealous of how you could just live for yourself, not being forced to follow the ridiculous rules that are expected for a royal member.” 

you pause, unsure of what to say after. 

“you have the right to live for yourself.” you say, after a brief moment of silence. nayeon’s laugh fills your ears, before taking a step closer to you.

“you’re funny, you know that?” nayeon whispers to you, leaving you confused. “maybe i could live for myself, refuse the royal livelihood and marry whoever i want.” eyes flickering to you as she says the last couple of words. 

the last sentence stabs your heart, like losing a joust without the armor. you knew that your time was ticking with her, and she’d eventually marry your brother felix. you and her would still see each other, but the heavenly restriction would only just keep you two apart. it wasn’t over just yet, but you wanted this to last a little bit longer. 

nayeon tiptoes a bit, glancing at your eyes before trailing down to your soft lips. you catch yourself leaning in closer, feeling the strong urge to meet them, to show how badly you loved her, and how you may just be part of the royal guard, but you would kill to be with her, and run away to some place where she could be truly happy. 

reality comes calling and you stop, pulling away to point at the window next to you two,

“the rain stopped.” you say, heart beating rapidly but also melting away with regret, again. 

“oh.” is all that’s heard from nayeon’s mouth, and they walk back to the castle in silence, neither of you willing to address the thick fog of confusion and tension hanging within the air.

you drag yourself back to the present with a few blinks as you stood there, on guard, waiting to hear to what the major announcement was. 

“my fellow subjects!” you hear your father exclaim out, everyone in the hall came to a standstill including nayeon and her family, and you suddenly realize that the marriage wasn’t announced to the public yet. 

“in a momentous celebration to commemorate our victory in the war, my prince will marry the lovely princess nayeon of the im dynasty!” 

a white screech pierces your ears, drowning out the cheers as the whole world around you just crumbled. heart heavy and your legs turn into jelly. this has to be a trick right? your eyes try to meet with nayeon’s but she was frozen with the reminder, still as a painting, and your head spins. 

the people were cheering and hugging each other, as you keep the order in the hall, your father’s words still pounding in your ears. 

—

later that night, you stand outside nayeon’s door, questioning yourself if this was the right move to see her or not. your mind had a protocol to follow, but all of that was in the back of your mind since you only knew one thing—you had to see her. 

so you knock twice, before you hear the gentle voice on the other side of the door prompting you to come in, and you enter, walking straight to sit on the edge of her bed. right beside her, as always. 

“princess nayeon.” you say, sitting next to her like a dog with its owner, eyes locked on her and only her. 

“just nayeon y/n, i have to keep reminding you every day.” she jokes, tapping your shoulder, making you tense but you gather your thoughts. 

“we already knew, but this pretty much makes this official doesn’t it, marrying my brother felix?” you ask, voice slightly breaking from an emotion that you still couldn’t fathom to understand. 

“i don’t have a choice. but if this is their step towards celebrating peace, then i can’t do much about it.” nayeon mumbles, leaning forward on the bed, face crestfallen. 

she looks so sad, you think to yourself, and your heart was breaking for her. the guard role and title didn’t matter to you since you genuinely wanted to comfort her, taking nayeon into your arms, promising her that she would always be safe with you, saying that you’ll love her for lifetimes and many different universes. 

you open your mouth, like a grunt escaping your lips, causing nayeon to look up at you. you clear your throat soon after, and you catch yourself staring at her for a few minutes. it was all so usual for you to do, and you stand up to walk to the window, still having no words. 

“what is it y/n?” nayeon asks, face beet red.

“nayeon.” you whisper, kneeling in front of her at the bed again, placing your arms on both sides of her legs. “i know this is wrong for me to say this, but you have every right to punish me for the words i’m about to say to you, but princess, i am madly and deeply in love with you.” 

nayeon’s mouth drops, and you look away, excusing yourself to leave, the regret from your words no longer there but this was against everything you took an oath for as her in the name of the elite guard. nayeon places a hand on your arm, causing you to kneel in front of her again. 

“what do you mean by that? for how long?” nayeon asks, unable to decide which question was more pressing to you. 

“since i met you for the first time and laid eyes on you. i feel like we’ve been in this situation before in another time that i can’t explain.” you try to explain, knowing that the words probably wouldn’t make sense but you had to give your reason in your love for her. “i’m so happy that it’s you that i love. the world feels a little lighter whenever we look at each other, calming my nerves that’s turning inside me, and i don’t want anything more for us to hide away from the world and be in love together, alone.” 

nayeon tilts your head up with her long, soft fingers, and notices the way you still refuse to make eye contact with her. 

“y/n.” she whispers, leaning her face closer, causing your forehead to touch with hers, “look at me.” 

always astute to follow orders, and you look at her, nayeon leans in, placing a soft kiss on your lips. this broke the drawbridge within you, wrapping your arms around her, shifting the position so that you were above, the kiss becoming more and more desperate by the second since the both of you knew that time was running out. 

your lips move down to her neck, placing small pecks all over the area, your warm breath lingering over her collarbones. you reach to her chest, and the vein in your neck twitches from a simple look at her breasts, causing your body to overcome with oozing lust.

holding yourself back, you sit up, lips swollen and red, trying to collect your breath as you look down at nayeon’s messy hair, lips like yours, desire pulling you in for more. 

placing your hands between her face, “i love you so much.” you mumble in between the kiss, causing nayeon to giggle against you.

“i have too, you idiot. i’ve been waiting for you to notice for so long.” she says, and you could legitimately die from that moment she said that to you. 

“let me rephrase, i’ve wanted you for so long.” you whisper, lips grazing her chest.

“why don’t you show me how much you’ve always wanted me.” 

nayeon’s fingers laced with yours, taking extra care as you showered every part of her body with soft, loving kisses as soft moans are falling out of nayeon’s mouth. 

“i have,” you mutter between kisses again, “never done this before.” you say breathlessly, nayeon scratching your hair out of affection.

“this is also my first.” she laughs out, and tugs at your collar. “get this off, now.” 

the next few minutes are filled with stripping, and you guide nayeon to lay on her back again, the soft moonlight breaking through the curtains illuminating her nude body. you gasp in rapture, unable to control yourself any longer. 

you gently slide nayeon’s legs open, tracing patterns with your lips on her inner thighs, eyes locked on ther face, the want to give her nothing but pleasure, the only objective in your mind right now.

tracing your finger along her wet folds, she gasps when you insert a finger inside of her, causing nayeon to moan and throw her head back against the pillow. you slow your pace with another finger, rubbing her clit in between the motion, eyes filled with a loving haze. your cunt was throbbing at the sound of her moans filling up the room, you just wanted to make her feel good. 

“i need-” nayeon says suddenly, “your mouth, please.” 

you happily oblige, latching your lips to her pussy, causing her to groan out louder as she grasps the back of your head. humming into her leaking core, you insert your fingers inside of her, legs twitching at the new stimulus clouding her mind as she’s lost in the pleasurable contact from you. 

“you’re mine only.” you whisper out before diving back into her pussy, tongue slicing through the center as you feel nayeon’s back arching off from the mattress. she was going to cum sooner thatn you think, the rhythm of your mouth doubling back in pace. you shoot yourself off from her pussy, kissing her cheek as you continue to pump your fingers inside of her. 

“to think that you’d marry my brother, he won’t love you the way that i do.” 

you mutter those hot words into her mouth, pinching her clit as well as pressing past her g-spot causing nayeon to finally come undone, holding her for dear life soon after she’s recovered, almost worried that they’ll be ripped away from each other, mumbling declarations of love over and over again in the ungodly hours of the night. 

—

the next few weeks that passed were exchanges of stolen kisses and escapes to the outer field and courtyards, much like teenagers with the way they expressed their newly blossomed love. 

you and nayeon weren’t complete fools though, and neither of you wanted to address the preparing marriage. nayeon just pretended that it didn’t exist in her mind, whereas the thought of it crossing your head drew out a sense of jealousy for your brother. 

on one night, after another round of love, nayeon sucking the core out of you, her head is found on your chest, twiddling her fingers across your breasts and the bud of your exposed nipple, quietly listening to your beating heart. 

your fingers were laced in her hair, ears filled by the gentle breaths breezing through your nostrils. 

“you should run away with me.” you propose suddenly, sitting up with nayeon’s hand with yours. “i may not offer much, but i promise to give you everything that you want and need.” 

“i don’t need anything but you, and i’m fine exactly right where i am.” nayeon mumbles, making your throw a dumb smile across your lips. 

—

you pace around your living quarters with a surge of excitement. in just a few hours, you’ll leave this godforsaken place, hand in hand with nayeon as you embark on a new life of freedom over the chained life of royalty. 

as you walked to her bedroom in your family’s castle, hands tightly holdling a small box in your pocket, you hear your name being called that makes you stop in your tracks, turning around to see your father and brother walking towards you, face wearing an unusual smile. 

“y/n.” your father says, opening a door that was a few steps down from nayeon’s. “we need to have a talk about something important, come.” 

you nod, following orders without bearing a question past your lips. 

the door closes and your brother takes his place next to your seated father, you standing across from them—a confrontation that could only spell disaster. 

“felix here has been telling me that you’ve been fooling around with his fiance.” he starts off saying, face looking cross with a harsh tone welded to the words. 

“with all due respect sir,” your father knew that he hated the formality that you put up whenever talking to him, “i wasn’t fooling around. i love nayeon, sincerely.” 

“not for long you are.” your father scoffs out, your brother looking down with a bleak smirk on his face. 

“what is the meaning of this?” you ask, standing your ground, fists loaded. 

“it’s quite simple for you isn’t it y/n?” felix says, almost mocking your attitude. “you love nayeon so much that you’d do anything for her?” 

“without question.” 

“then we order you to do something for us.” your father says again, leaning closer. “you tell nayeon that you don’t love her, and she gets married to your brother. she’ll be able to live a life of wealth and grandeur, and you’ll be cut off from the family entirely.” 

“and if i refuse?” 

“she’ll die on the degree of treason. not you though, since the judgment for you would be living the reset of your life knowing that your actions led to the demise of the person you loved dearly. remember, i have eyes and ears spread across this kingdom. you and nayeon will never live in peace.” 

you wanted to scream, defy against your father and brother, bolt to nayeon’s room and get out of the place you despised so much. but you were smart about this, how else did you get into the family’s elite guard in the first place. your father would be able to find you both and you couldn’t do anything to get nayeon hurt because of you.

“okay.” you finally say, surrendering to your dad’s power. “i’ll accept your terms.” 

“good, felix take y/n on your way out will ya?” your father replies, satisfied with the decision. as felix grabs you by the shoulders, ushering your way out and down the steps. 

you and felix stayed silent as the both of you made your way to the dining commons, fighting back tears from the events that just happened about twenty minutes ago still fresh in your mind. 

“you know, nayeon asked me for my permission about you.” felix says out of nowhere, making you stop in your tracks, facing him at the surprise confession. 

"what?"

“i’ve seen the way she looks at you, her and i have known each other since we were little. but when she saw you that day, her eyes looked so different compared to when she’s with me.” 

you fight back tears that were about to spill from your eyes, biting your inner cheek, knowing that this was all too late to salvage anything from this point. 

“i was never in the right position for her anyway.” you say, “we both know that i was never fit to be royal material, that’s why i joined the elite guard.” 

“i’m sorry y/n. i really am.” felix replies, “maybe if things were different with how everything is, all of this wouldn’t have happened.”

“felix, it’s fine.” 

“i just wish we had a different scenario for the both of us.” he says to you, placing a hand on your shoulder, not willing to meet his eyes. “you’ll find someone like you, eventually.” 

you clench your jaw at the last sentence, frothing internally from the comment your brother just uttered, fist ready to break the nearby pillar next to you. 

—

a day later after the confrontation with your father, you walk towards nayeon’s room once again, mind numb as the words rang in your head. the only way to protect nayeon was to destroy her, and you let out a bitter laugh at the cruel joke your mind just constructed upon yourself. 

“y/n!” nayeon gasps, rushing towards you and engulfing you in a tight hug. you look down at the princess who had a blissful face. were things supposed to end like this? to rip her heart to shreds? the one you fought so hard to win? 

you stood still, like a stone, face stern with a mixture of emotions swimming underneath. nayeon notices this unusual behavior, and places a hand on your chest.

“my love, are you okay?” she asks you, and you take a sigh before taking a step back, waving her hand off your chest, confusing her. 

“i think, i have to confess something to you.” you state, trying not to meet eyes with hers. 

“what are you talking about?” 

“all of this,” you say, waving your finger between you two, “everything that i said and did, it was never meaningful or real.” you almost choke on the words you forced yourself to utter out. 

“so you’re saying is–” nayeon cuts herself off, voice breaking before even finishing the sentence. 

“fuck, i’m trying to say that i never loved you, okay?! this wasn’t all supposed to happen in the first place. all of it.” you regret the words as soon as they leave your lips.

nayeon’s eyes widened, biting her lip, fighting the urge to cry in front of the people she didn’t trust. you clasp your arm, doing everything in your willpower to not comfort her. 

“of course, that’s how it is then is it?” she laughs out bitterly, sitting on the edge of her bed, face full of hurt. “all of this was just to mess with the esteemed princess and ruin everything good that’s happened in her life for the past weeks. this just proves everything that i feared about you.” 

you stood there, not letting the resolve break you in front of nayeon. 

“nay-” 

“get the fuck out.” nayeon yells urgently, and you turn away in a flash, door slamming behind you as you stumble on the steps once alone. 

—

weddings, they’re the worst. 

you stand there at the beginning of the ceremony besides the bridesmaids, the only girl there wearing a suit, hands clasped together as you watch nayeon walk down the aisle, hugging her father before facing your brother, her new husband to be. 

she looked so ethereal to look at, and you were fighting your inner conscience, wishing that you were in felix’s place instead, hearing the exchange of vows—the agreement of a lifetime of love and security with her. instead, here you are, on the sidelines, nothing but a mere member of the audience, trading your love for the promise of keeping her safe. 

you wanted to object, defy the presentation and speak your truth, taking nayeon down the aisle and away from everything that you spoke in your bedside talk with her. now, you just watched as felix and nayeon share a kiss, and they both walk down—arm in arm with her new husband and she offers a fake smile to everyone, you always knew that her eyes would always light up when she was smiling with genuine intent, and avoids looking at you. 

the reception was at the nearby hall next to the chapel, holding the box in your hands in a secluded corner away from the crowd. your father calls you over, seeing your mother and felix stand beside him, pressing your lips knowing the gravity of the situation from this point on. 

you move past the three across from you, your father signaling the guards waiting at the doors to be shut  once you were outside, closing you off from the family and nayeon from your life forever. 

#saiiidahyunee #twice x reader #kpop x reader #im nayeon #twice nayeon #nayeon x reader #twice fluff #twice angst #nayeon smut #twice smut #twice imagines #nayeon fluff #nayeon angst

[fuxuannie]

╭₊˚ ๑︰babysitting sigwinne :)

:★: relationship : wriothesley x g-neutral reader

:★: warnings : none! fluff

:★: a/n : saw a pretty mf and took my chances 🦕 disclaimer : i'll be going with the popular hc that hes nearsighted / blind but if what i write is incorrect or innacurate, please let me know & i'll immediately change what i've written! i'm always welcome to constructive criticism especially in areas im unfamiliar with. i talked with a partially blind friend to help me with this huhu.

You really didn't know what to expect when your boyfriend WRIOTHESLEY tells you that he's coming over.

He could be happy, angry, sad, it's just really hard to tell his mood over paper.

But when you hear that doorbell, you walk over to the door and see him standing there but.. there's a child holding his hand? "Hi!" The little bunny girl waved, smiling brightly however when your eyes shift back to your dearest lover - he seems exhausted, almost the verge of passing out.

"Hello!" You reply with a smile, watching Wriothesley let go of her hand, trudge past you and on his way to your very comfortable couch. "What's your name?" You inquired to the little lady. "I'm Sigwinnie, but I know all about you (name)! Mr. Wriothesley talks about you very fondly."

You couldn't help but feel your heart squeeze at the idea of him talking about you so sweetly, you move away from the door to let Sigwinne in and look at her surroundings - familiarizing herself with the home. "So, do you mind telling me why you're here? Since my boyfriend seems just about dead on my couch."

"I can hear you."

"Great! You can answer."

Picking Sigwinne up into one of your arms, you approach the couch and stand infront of him with your free hand on your hip. "So?"

"Tired."

"I'll kick you out. Explain."

You can hear a defeated groan into the couch cushions. "I have to take care of her, but work came up.. I'm really exhausted but I really didn't want to disturb you like this." He mumbles softly, a hand through his hair while sighing.

Already knowing how much your boyfriend works, you were happy to do this for him and Sigwinne seemed to be a very behaved child at heart. "Alright, rest well." You murmur, bowing down to kiss his forehead softly.

. . . . 💐 . . . .

A few hours pass, Wriothesley is awoken by the sounds of giggling in the distance. His eyes take a moment to adjust, rubbing them softly as he yawns. He looks over to the table to what seems to be a bunch of markers and papers, all depicting what seems to be a happy family.

"Shhh! You're gonna wake him up!"

His head turns to what he can remember to be the general location of the kitchen, hearing hushed giggles followed by the sound of cups clanking.

Of course, it doesn't sound like anything that could cause trouble, but he may aswell check what's happening. Due to the fact he has your home layout memorized, he really has no struggle navigating through the furniture and towards the kitchen.

At first the sight is a blur, what seems to be Sigwinne in your arms reaching up for something in your pantry until a little 'Oop!-' escapes your lips when you realize you've been caught.

Wriothesley takes a moment to adjust his eyes, taking a few steps closer until your smile comes into clear view. "Good morning!" You giggled, the girl in your arms waving enthusiastically as a greeting.

Maybe he's yet to properly process anything, but the sight of you and Sigwinne getting along makes his heart melt. It's adorable to see the light peeking from the windows into the scenery of the kitchen and almost illuminating you in his vision.

"Ah- well- um.. Good morning." He murmurs, turning his head away as he feels that oh so familiar warmth on his cheeks. "Are you blushing???"

To shift the topic, "What were both of you doing?" He asks, remembering the giggles and whispering he had heard. "Oh! We wanted to make you tea."

He then feels a tug on his sleeve, looking down at the Sigwinne who had the sweetest smile on her face. "Tea!"

He hovers his hand over the cup and chuckles.

"I prefer my tea hot, this is ice cold. This is one of your drinks, isn't it?"

"Huuuh?! Not fair! How does he always know.." Sigwinne pouted, her ears flopping downwards in defeat.

You ruffle her hair with a smile. "Oh well, we tried."

"You were apart of this?"

"Noooooo..?"

Wriothesley pulled you by the waist and buried his face into your neck, his laughter echoed into your as his breath tickled your neck. "You really are a handful.."

"Are you guys gonna kiss?"

#♡ — 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact #gi x reader #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader

[blackest-soul]

A Short Girl’s Guide to Working at the BAU

I. Dealing with Morgan

Derek: How short are you?

Y/N: you mean how tall?

Derek: no, how short??? You can barely reach my shoulders!

Y/N, in a soft voice: not my fault i got the southeast asian genes and you are very aware that im only 4’9 so shut up ok.

Derek: fine fine fine. So, just out of curiosity…hmm can i, well, can i use you as a hand rest coz u are the perfect height!!!

Y/N: do that and you will die

II. Emily and her unwanted maternal instinct

*Y/N, walking around the bullpen without her ID, in a backpack*

Concerned Agent: hey, hey kid. Are you lost? Where’s your guardian? You cant just go walking around here…

Y/N, spotting Emily and pointing at her: Don’t worry, Agent. There’s my mom. I’ll just go and talk to her.

Concerned Agent: huh, didn’t know she has a child. Wait let me call her for you. SSA Prentiss!! Your daughter is here!!!!

Emily: WTF ARE YOU ON ABOUT?

Emily, seeing Y/N: STOP CALLING ME YOUR MOTHER YOU ARE 25 ffs!!!! WE DONT EVEN LOOK SIMILAR!!!

Y/N: not my fault he can’t remember me.

Y/N: so mom, what’s for lunch?

Emily: i packed you an extra sandwich. You should eat more.

Also, Emily: why the fuck am i mothering you!?? I can’t even take care of myself

III. A tired singlefather!Hotch

Hotch, reprimanding Y/N for all her choices in life: … and lastly, stop eating expired and dirty food! I saw you eating your sandwich after you dropped on the floor for lunch!!!! Am i not giving you enough allowance?

Y/N: the food barely touched the floor!!! Besides germs wait for the five second rule so i am going to be fine. And what allowance???!!!??

Hotch: you are giving me a migraine. Shut up and let me process the words that just came out of your mouth

Y/N: really???? maybe you should start eating dropped sandwiches more coz i do not get migraines

Hotch: one more sound and you will be grounded

Y/N: as if!!! What are you gonna do?

Hotch: no phone

Y/N: we need phones for work

Hotch: no internet for a week

Y/N: try again, I work with Penny.

*Reid, walking by to get another coffee*

Hotch: No Reid

Y/N: NO REEIIDD!!!!

Hotch: YES! NO REIDD

Y/N: you cant just do that!!!

Hotch: YES I CAN!!! NO REID TIL COLLEGE, YOUNG WOMAN!!

Y/N: TIL COLLEGE!!!!!!!! Rossi will hear about this

A few moments later

Reid, to Hotch: hey Hotch, can Y/N and I hang out later? I wanna invite her to watch a movie with me.

Hotch: No.

Reid: what do you mean NO.

Hotch: She’s grounded. NO REID TIL COLLEGE.

Reid: she has two PhDs already.

Hotch, unblinking: NO. REID. TIL COLLEGE.

IV. Rossi and the granddaughter he never asked for but clearly loves

Rossi: so tell me what ails you, bambino.

Y/N, pouting and whining: Hotch *hiccups* grounded *hiccups* me. He said *hiccups* I cannot see Reid. Til college *wails, while dramatically throwing herself to the sofa*

Rossi: don’t you cry now, cara. I will talk to your father about this. Here’s $100. Go buy yourself something nice for your date with Reid.

Y/N: it is not a date, nonno. Just a movie.

Rossi: Regardless, take it. I will talk to, Hotch.

V. Reid and his never ending explanations of “yes she is my girlfriend. no i am not a pedophile, we met when she’s 25. yes i am sure she is 25. And no i am not dating a high schooler”

*Reid and Y/N, finally on their movie date.*

Bouncer: hey young lady. Do you know this man?

Y/N: oh yes, sir. He is my boyfriend. If you will excuse us, we need to catch a movie.

Bouncer, suspiciously looking at Reid

Reid: SHE IS 25!!!!

Bouncer, suspicious stare intensifies

Reid: she is just short please we are adults

Bouncer:

Reid:

Y/N:

Y/N: here is my ID, sir. We work for the FBI. I am Asian and just really short.

Bouncer: oh okay. Sorry. You can never be sure these days.

Reid: thank you for looking out for other people, though

Bouncer, suspicious stare:

Reid, whispers: wtf

#criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer x reader #incorrect quotes #criminal minds fanfic #i am a 26 years old teenage girl #i can pass for an hs student

[catsfor2]

out west (ellie x reader)

warnings: guns/firearms

a/n: howdy guys. not sure if this is what everyone was picturing but this was SO MUCH FUN to write ☺️😋☺️. i definitely do not think they used the word “daddy” in the wild west but i wanted to use it soooo😩😩😩😩also here are the random bits of western slang i used (taradiddles - lies, rumours. sage hen - woman, lady. ‘at sea’ - scared/confused. bellyache - worry. flannel mouth - shithead politician basically) im sorry if i effed this up 0_0 -j

His oversized poncho was black. So was the bandanna covering his mouth, and the large hat hiding his eyes. His revolver, resting like a small child in his gloved hand, stares you down mercilessly.

The figure looked of a ghost. A silent, lifeless bundle of fabrics, rippling in the wind. No face. No skin. No humanity.

And he matched the description of the poster exactly.

“No—no, please, my—my Daddy, he’s the sheriff! It’s more trouble than I’m worth, I’m tellin’ you, please!” You beg, eyes beginning to water and voice already panicked.

He says nothing, boot-clad feet pounding the wood floor carelessly as he walks towards you.

“If you do this he’ll find you! He won’t stop until he finds you! Please don’t!”

It was like talking to a pile of bricks.

The outlaw continues to charge ahead, wordlessly, and you find yourself desperately trying to see where his eyes would land under his hat. He approaches, big and brooding, until you’re face to face with that soulless bandana and downright trembling.

“I—I’d make a real good wife, really, I’ve learned all the—the sewin’, the cookin’ and—and ranchin’! I know it all I promise! It’d be a waste!” You plea, knowing it’s a last resort, knowing this man does not care.

In an instant, his hands clutch your shoulders and forcibly shove you to the side and out of his way, sending you stumbling. His attention lands and focuses on the wall that was behind you.

The poster?

Suddenly, his arm thrusts out and snatches it, like the crack of a whip, before frantically tearing the paper into tiny little pieces.

You watch as they all float down to the floor, feathery and weightless.

You see the brim of his hat turn to you first, and then his head, slowly, like he’s noticing your presence for the first time.

The hand not holding his revolver rises calmly, loosening the edges of his bandanna just a touch. He clears his throat.

“Girl like you knows how to ranch?”

Your eyes almost pop out of your head.

“You’re—”

“Sorry, these damn posters—always…writin’ up taradiddles. Got people thinkin’ I’m some madman, when really,” a finger flicks the rim of the hat, flipping it off of his head and into his grasp. “I’m no man at all.”

You feel yourself reeling, barely able to understand his words, or, her words. The hat had covered up her blue eyes, almost oceanic in color. The bandanna, hiding her soft thin lips. Basically criminal, all the fabric denying you sight of her face.

She went against almost everything Daddy had taught you. It was as terrifying as it was alluring.

“Well you look a bit at sea, darlin’. Why so scared?” She asks, placing her revolver in its holster and walking a bit closer to you.

“I—I don’t get how,”

“How? How what? How a sage hen can shoot? I can tell you right now I cut a cleaner whistle than your Daddy.” She grins, palm now itching closer to her weapon.

“No I—I believe you, it’s alright. Please don’t bring that back out.” You rush, the fear starting to sink back into you.

“Oh, honey, I don’t hunt the good ones. You’ve nothin’ to be scared of,” She assures you, her hand reaching out and feeling some of your hair. “now that sheriff Daddy of yours? Can’t say the same for him.”

You pause, hands balling into fists.

“You know what? My Daddy told me all about you and what you’ve done. I wouldn’t be speakin' so kindly of yourself.” You bite, slightly catching the gunslinger off guard with your tone.

“Oh, did he? Well your Daddy clearly don’t know me too well,” she rebukes, gesturing to the torn pieces of poster under her boots. “do you always believe everythin’ Daddy says?”

“Of course not—”

“I bet Daddy told you that storks bring the babies, right? Did he tell you that?”

“When I was young, but—”

“I bet he also told you about marriage then? One man and one woman?”

You stop talking.

What was wrong about that? Isn’t that how marriage is?

“Most of all, I bet he done told you all about the perfect husband you’re gonna get. Some flannel mouth he works with. Daddy’s girl only gets the best, right? That what he say?”

“I—” You turn your head, a little defeated. “I ain’t marryin’ no flannel mouth,”

“Oh yeah? That’s what’ll happen if you keep listenin’ to Daddy.”

“You don’t know jack. Just a crazy woman with a shootin’ iron. You won’t ever find a husband, I know it.” You spit, not even really believing your own words.

She laughs, rather abruptly, hands rested in the loops of her gun holster.

“Got no bellyaches about that, darlin’. I promise you.” She says knowingly, eyes unwilling to break their gaze from you.

You don’t quite understand what she means by it, especially the way she’s grinning, so you say nothing. Her eyes watch you darkly, following your movements and sending messages you can't translate.

Before she can speak, you remember.

“Oh—my Daddy’s gonna be back soon. I don’t want you to be here when he does.” You tell her, glancing at the doorway behind the both of you.

“I won’t be.”

“Alright—will…will I see you again?”

“Oh sweetheart, you want to?” She questions, starting to re-tie the black bandanna around her mouth.

You blush, sweetly, and the outlaw basks in it. She takes her hat back off, kisses it gently, and places it in your hands.

Her head moves to your neck, barely getting close enough to your ear and whispering faintly.

“Tell Daddy it’s from a suitor, yeah?”

Your cheeks heat, sheerly from how close she is, but also at her words, which feel so much dirtier than they should be to you.

Following that, her leather-covered hands grab your face, and she places a warm kiss on your cheek through the bandanna.

Only lightly could you feel the outline of her lips in the fabric, and it sets you on fire nonetheless.

“Thank you,” you murmur, unsure of how to respond and dizzy with excitement.

“Don’t thank me yet,” she warns, voice a bit muffled. She pulls down the bandanna one last time, and with a wink, tells you,

“I’ll be back for my hat.”

#ellie fic #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie tlou #lesbian #ellie williams #tlou part 2 #ellie williams fic #tlou fic #tlou #catsfor2