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dilemmaontwolegs · 4 days

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Not A Verstappen: Away We Go {1}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: Autumn has been introduced to the world but there’s something more special for a first appearance: Monaco GP Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, angst, fluff WC: 3.7k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry || One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten NAV: Lights Out || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || 6.5 || Seven || SMAU || Eight || Nine NAV: Away We Go || One || Two

The white noise in the nursery threatened to put you to sleep too but there were still dozens of messages to get through. There had been a constant stream of well wishes to your inbox since the announcement to the world but one had been left on read for three days now and a little rage built each time you reread it.

It didn’t take long for new ‘exclusive’ information to pop up in the gossip pages, along with the photo you had taken and sent to Jos. It wasn’t a surprise at all, but it still hurt to read what he had said. Trusted sources close to Y/N say she is being monitored for Post Natal Depression and Psychosis, as it is no secret she has had trouble with mental health in the past.

“You are lucky, my love,” you whispered to your daughter who slept soundly in your arms. “Your fathers love you so much.”

You carefully stood up from the rocking chair beside her cot but the moment you started to lower her to the mattress she began to stir.

“Already a little arm princess, aren’t you?” you chuckled, settling back into the chair to start rocking again.

You didn’t mind getting these rare moments alone with her, even if you were exhausted from waking up to breastfeed her all through the night. As soon as Charles and Lando finished their Zoom Meetings with their teams they would be stealing her away for their own snuggles. It was safe to say everyone was smitten with her. And that wasn’t an exaggeration. The front door barely closed before another visitor came, and Max had taken up permanent residence on the couch when he wasn’t needed elsewhere.

“Is she sleeping?” P whispered loudly as she stuck her head in the door.

“She is, but you can come in.”

Max trailed in after her having let himself in the apartment with his spare key. Your mother was out grocery shopping again so she could do more baking for the visitors of the day. You had told her she didn’t need to but she was enjoying the company and feeding a small army.

“Have you eaten?” Max asked as he knelt down beside P who gently stroked the blanket Autumn was swaddled in.

“You’re as bad as my mother.”

“I’m just checking. Kel said everyone comes to see the baby but no one asks how the mum is doing. I want to make sure my sister is okay too.”

“Now you’ve done it,” you croaked as you started to cry. “I’m over these damn hormones. I was fine until you arrived.”

Max laughed and rocked side to side. “You’ll get over it. Should we go to the living room or do you like sitting in the dark?”

You accepted his hand and let him pull you to your feet since he had long ago mastered the art of carrying a baby one-handed. “You’re going to have your hands full when Vicki drops.”

“I have two arms. Unless you're planning on having another one right away?”

“Max, I love you, but I will punch you if you ask that again. I am still having to sit on ice pads because no one warned me about the goddamn haemorrhoids-”

“Okay, okay, fuck, stop!” he begged with a disgusted look on his screwed up face.

Satisfied he wouldn’t make the same mistake again, you went to the kitchen and grabbed two bottles of water and a juice box for Penelope.

“So Toto still hasn’t confirmed anyone for Lewis’ seat next year,” you said, passing him one bottle before taking a seat with P.

“You’ve been talking to him?”

“And others,” you admitted. A few more of the Team Principals had sent their congratulations and the ones with empty seats for 2025 expressed an interest, asking what your plans were. “As soon as my six week check up gets signed off Kristian is going to become my worst nightmare again.”

“Do your boyfriends know that’s your plan?”

You shrugged. It had been spoken about before Autumn was born but they all thought having her in your arms would change your mind about returning to racing. None of the other parents on the grid gave up their careers to grow their families, and while there were still empty seats in the teams you were going to shoot your shot until every last one was taken.

“Never let them know your next move,” you joked before sobering up and sighing. “Working mums are normal in every other business. Plus, I’m only talking about sim racing this year and if I can impress someone with the data then we can go from there.”

Max nodded along as his eyes traced over Autumn’s features, finding Charles’ dimples when her lips pursed with a soft whimper in her sleep. Penelope had finished her drink and turned all her attention to your daughter, giggling whenever Autumn sucked on her own lip.

“Can I have a baby sister?” she asked Max with bright, hopeful eyes.

“Maybe one day, P. You would make a great big sister.” She grinned at the compliment and snuggled closer until she was half on Max’s lap and holding Autumn too.

Monaco GP

“Ma fifille, tellement belle,” Charles gushed as Lando stepped out of the nursery with Autumn in his arms. She smelt sweet from the baby oil that hydrated her skin and fresh since Lando had changed her diaper before finding the prettiest dress in her closet for her first paddock entrance.

“I’m surprised he didn’t try to sneak her into McLaren gear,” you commented as you packed the baby bag with extra supplies for the day. Gone were the days of arriving at the paddock with just your phone, now there were a million things to remember since no one wanted to try to return home with the insane traffic that came with the road closures for the Monaco race.

“I hid them all,” Charles confessed with a sly smile before stealing a kiss from Lando’s pouting lips. “If she can’t wear Ferrari then she definitely isn’t wearing McLaren, mon cher.”

“One day when you are at Maranello…” Lando warned with a wink.

“You can finish this squabble later, we have a whole camera crew waiting outside.” The tone wasn’t quite as light as you hoped and it drew the attention of both of them straight to you. The joking smiles fell and Lando lay Autumn in her stroller and clipped in the buckles with a frown. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m fine.”

“You only gave birth four weeks ago, love, it’s okay if you’re not ready to go to the track yet.”

“We wouldn’t be upset if you watched from here,” Charles added.

“It’s Monaco and I am fine, just a little nervous.” Your blasé shrug didn’t fool either of them.

“Of what?”

Charles took over rocking the stroller back and forth so Lando could pull you into his arms. The warmth and security of his embrace was always enough to spill whatever was on your mind.

“The crowd, the cameras, your fans - take your pick.” You looked down at your clothes. They weren’t the designer dresses the other women would wear to the paddock but the maternity jeans and breastfeeding friendly shirt were tidy enough. You couldn’t help noticing the pouch where your belly sagged like a deflated balloon.

“Hey,” Lando murmured, catching your chin with his finger and guiding your head back up to face him. “Do we need to remind you how beautiful we think you are? I don’t mind being late. Charles?”

“I am more than happy to take a penalty.”

You chuckled at the enthusiasm but shook your head. “I would love nothing more than to drag you both back to the bedroom but save it for the six week sign off, you horny devils.”

“We can still show you how sexy we find you without fucking you,” Lando whispered in your ear and Charles’ eyes darkened at the little catch in your breathing.

“Don’t tempt me, but there’s still the problem of the camera crew outside and you’d be on your own explaining to them why we were late.”

“Mon amour, that is the man who asked Stroll if he could wank after breaking his wrists. Would you really trust him with that task?”

“I mean…I would find it funny. Zak might blow a gasket though,” you admitted with a grin. Feeling a bit more at ease after a laugh, you stepped out of Lando’s arms and took a steadying breath. “I’m going to grab a hoodie and we can go.”

Neither commented as you hid your body in an oversized Quadrant hoodie despite the summer heat but you barely made it halfway down the street before you asked Charles if you could push the stroller. There were too many people and too many screams for autographs that your heart started to beat erratically and your breath burned in your lungs.

“Are you okay?” Charles asked, ignoring the people beyond the security team that surrounded your group.

“Let her push, Charles,” Lando urged as he saw a sight he was familiar with in the mirror. It was rare for him in recent years now that he had you and Charles but he could remember the feeling of being out of control and the panic that came with it.

You grabbed the handlebar of the stroller and held on with a death grip in case someone broke through the security guards and knocked into it. Your knuckles changed colour from how tight you handled it and your legs pumped faster with the urge to get to the track and inside the walls of a team hospitality.

From the corner of your eye a shadow slipped through the bodies and your elbow flew out as your mind went straight to the worst case scenario. Was it an overzealous fan wanting a picture or a fanatic wanting to hurt your family?

“Ow, zusje, what the fuck?” Max asked as he rubbed at his ribs.

“Jesus Christ, Max, what are you doing? Don’t jump out at me like that.”

“She’s a little on edge right now,” Charles said quietly, acutely aware of all the cameras pointed their way.

“I can see that. Is it the crowd? Do you want me to call in reinforcements?”

Charles shook his head and walked quicker to catch back up to you. “We would probably be there by the time anyone came.”

Lactic acid burned your calves and reminded you just how hard you were going to have to work to get back to your pre-baby fitness but it felt good too. It brought you back to yourself in a way you had forgotten since becoming a mother and the endorphins from the exercise began to relax your body and mind.

Your pace began to slow and Lando smiled proudly like you had won a world championship. “Now can I hold your hand, love?”

You shifted your hold to the centre of the handlebar so you could still navigate the stroller and placed your hand in his. “Thank you,” you murmured as he kissed your knuckles.

“I would tell you not to worry but I don’t think it will make a difference,” he replied between waving to his fans.

“Aren’t you worried? There’s so many things that could go wrong.”

Lando stopped and turned with a serious look on his face that was only softened by the untamed curl that fell over his brow. “Of course I’m worried too, babe, this is our family and Autumn is the most precious part of it. But, I have to trust that we have done enough to protect her and you and Charles,” he said with a wave towards the security guards. “Do you remember how nervous you were before your first race? You could barely keep your food down and Pierre thought you were actually going to pass out during the Anthem.”

You rolled your eyes but a small smile leaked through. “Don’t remind me.”

“I would have caught you.”

“You were six inches shorter than me.”

Lando stood straighter and looked down at you. “That’s beside the point, I’ve more than made up for it now.”

“Yes, you have,” you said with a wink. “Much more than six inches.”

Charles interrupted the appreciative gaze you dragged over your boyfriend’s body. “Will you two please behave?”

A devilish smirk grew on Lando’s face. “Never, but I will go and sign some autographs before I get in more trouble.”

“Is it me or is he even more cocky?”

“Winning does that to a guy.”

Charles scoffed and curled an arm around your waist. “I will have to remind him what second place feels like, it’s my turn to win Monaco.”

Max laughed, reminding you that he was still there as you approached the paddock gates. “Half the grid thinks the same thing.”

“Well they have a chance with you starting P2,” you teased your brother before grinning at Charles who took pole position. “Take that chequered flag.”

You scanned your ID and the pass for Autumn too as everyone else did and clustered together on the other side again.

“Where are you going to be watching from?” Max asked as you approached his hospitality first.

“Homeboys box, but Toto wants a word so I’ll take bub there first.”

Max looked like he wanted to say something but his name was called out from his team waiting by the dark blue entrance. Instead he stepped forward and kissed your cheek before kissing Autumn’s and tickling her toes. “Tot zeins, mooi meisje.”

“She’s going to speak Dutch before me at this rate,” you complained as he walked away, still not knowing what he said to her.

“Learn quicker then.”

You threw him the middle finger that made him laugh before he disappeared and then it was your turn to say goodbye. Mercedes was the next garage followed by Ferrari then McLaren.

“We will see you before the race,” you promised as you unbuckled Autumn from her stroller and held her to your chest. The garages were tight enough as it was without trying to fit the pram inside too. “Say bye-bye daddy,” you said with a wave of Autumn’s little hand as she woke from her nap. “Love you.”

Charles and Lando both kissed her cheeks and said their goodbye before you received your own chaste kiss on the lips. “Call us if you need anything, I will keep my phone with me,” Charles promised before stepping away.

“Same, and these guys are going with you too,” Lando said with a nod to the security shadowing your sides. Your entourage joined you in Mercedes but thankfully took a wider perimeter since there was a fairly strict policy in who could enter the garages. Toto didn’t seem to mind the additions since you came bearing a pretty great gift.

“You are a beautiful time waster,” he said sweetly as he cradled Autumn to his chest. “I have work to do, little lady, yes, I do, but I’m not ready to hand you over, no, I am not.”

“I get the feeling that Jack will be getting a sibling soon enough,” you said to Lewis who swung back and forth on his chair with his headphones half on his head.

“I don’t think it’s Toto that needs convincing,” he said with a laugh. “It’s not his career that goes on hold, you know that.”

“I never would have said it before, but she’s worth it,” you admitted. “Still not sold on doing it again though, got one more championship to win.”

“I know that feeling,” he said wistfully. “Charles had better bring her to Maranello too.”

“I don’t think much work would get done if she was there,” you pointed out. “And like you said, you have a championship to win.”

Autumn suddenly decided that she was starving and started to cry as she nuzzled into Toto’s shirt and you laughed as you got up to retrieve her. “Sorry, bub, there’s no milk in those titties,” you teased as you picked her up. “Is there somewhere I can feed her?”

Toto looked around and shrugged. “Wherever you’re comfortable. There’s rooms down the hall if you want.”

“I’ve learned it’s not about my own comfort.”

“If anyone’s got a problem they are free to leave,” he said loud enough for everyone to hear and return to their work.

You took your seat again beside Lewis and unzipped the discrete opening on your shirt before unclipping the small window on your bra.

“Come on, man, she’s just trying to feed her baby. Get those cameras out of here,” Lewis said as he blocked the lens and started to herd the Netflix crew back out of the garage.

It had taken a week of trial and error before mastering the art of latching but now you had a routine and Autumn quickly fell back to sleep despite trying to keep her awake. Lando had joked he would sleep better if that was his routine too, at least you thought he was joking.

“Can you hold her please?”

Lewis didn’t need to be asked, he had been patiently waiting his turn since you walked in the garage. He even knew to draw soothing circles and pat her back to bring up her wind. “There’s those famous Uncle skills you bragged about.”

“Told you, I’m just down the road if you guys want a babysitter for date night.”

“I might take you up on that in a few weeks.” You looked over to Toto who was speaking to Bono and jutted your chin his way. “Has he mentioned anything about who’s in line for your seat?”

“Nothing set in stone, just lots of talk - or at least that’s what he told me.”

“Fair enough, you’re the enemy now,” you teased.

“Netflix is going to love this season. Did you see Nando re-signed?”

“Mhmm, I sent him a pot plant and instructions to wipe the floor with Lance. I think he’s taken it on board.” Fernando already had nearly four times as many points in the driver championship so far and you expected that to increase after the race.

“There’s rumours Lance is going to WEC next year, maybe there'll be another seat opening.”

“Fuck that,” you scoffed. “If I get a seat it’s going to be with a team that has some sense of loyalty. I’m sick of being dropped like a hot potato the second anything goes wrong. I’m desperate, but not that desperate.”

Lewis was about to be called for the driver parade and you realised just how quickly time had passed. “I should let you finish your rituals, we still have a few stops to make before the race.”

He handed Autumn back and gave you a hug. “Don’t lose that glow stressing about getting a seat, mama, enjoy your time with this little beauty. Che sarà, sarà.”

“Practising Italian already, huh?” you teased as you buckled Autumn into the stroller where she promptly fell asleep after the movement disturbed her. “I will keep your wise words in mind.”

The paddock was quieter as you made your way down the line of garages. Most guests would already be in the viewing spaces above the pit lane to watch the drivers parade so there weren’t many people for security to part.

“Ma’am,” the head guard called as he stood in front of an imposing suited figure. “He wants a word.”

You nodded your head and he moved to let the man through. “I’m kind of running late, Lawrence.”

“I just want to say congratulations,” your old boss said as he looked into the stroller and removed his sunglasses. “She’s very cute, you must be proud.”

“You could have sent a text message.”

Lawrence sighed at the frosty tone. “In hindsight things may have been handled a little callously but you should understand it was for your own good. This isn’t an office job that can be worked while pregnant, it would have been irresponsible as an employer.”

“I understand that, it was the fact you fired me without even talking to me first - I had to find out through the tabloids - and before that the way you let your son get away with treating his team is actually despicable.”

Lawrence pulled a white handkerchief from his breast pocket and cleaned his glasses as he stared off into the distance. “You’re not wrong, but we are working on his attitude and behaviour - discreetly.”

You raised an eyebrow but he wasn’t going to share anything further, instead he took one last look at Autumn and put the aviators back on his nose. Maybe there was some weight behind the rumours.

“Hopefully we’ll see you back on the grid at some point. You were one hell of a racer.”

“Am, Mr Stroll,” you corrected as you turned the brake off the pram. “I am one hell of a racer.”

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x reader

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speakergame · 2 months

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Progress Update - 3/4/24

Hello and happy March!

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? 😅 Well, I finally have some good news for you this time: I have some actual news!

I'm happy to be able to announce at last that an update is on its way! I’ve still got some assets to make and code cleanup and testing to finish, but I should finally have something to show you soon.

I’ll put a cut at the end of this and go into more detail about the what and why of what I’ve been working on during this long and unintended hiatus, but the tl;dr is that I hope to have an update out by the end of the month, and that said update will break any saves made in Chapter 4. Unfortunate, but unavoidable, since Chapter 4 had to be recoded from the beginning 😞

I just want to thank all of you once again for sticking with me through my extended silence! Especially to my patrons who’ve put up with me putting everything on pause month after month while I dealt with my real life shit, and to everyone who’s sent me kind and supportive messages to let me know Speaker hasn’t been forgotten. It really means a lot to me.

Okay, enough of that sappy shit! I’m gonna get back to work finishing this up 😁 I’ll put out another update later this month once I have a more definite release date.

Thank you all for reading! I hope you’re having a fantastic 2024 so far, and that the rest of the week treats you kindly. See y’all soon! 💙💙💙

(For those who want a more detailed breakdown on what’s been happening and what to expect, hit the readmore)

I won’t go into the personal life stuff I’ve been dealing with this past year that has slowed down my work, but as far as the actual game goes:

To put it simply, I just wasn’t happy with it. Some of it could be because of how many times I had to reread the same section while I was coding the scenes that would’ve taken place after the last update, but no matter how much I edited or rearranged it, I didn’t like how that scene turned out. There was something… formulaic that had been happening with the way I always laid out scenes, and a bit of stagnation in the story, character, and relationship development that bothered me.

So I rewrote it. And when I still didn’t like it, I rewrote it again. And I still didn’t like it. I thought about scrapping the whole thing on more than one occasion as I struggled to get out of the corner I’d written myself into.

Inspiration finally struck at the beginning of this year, thanks in part to another interactive novel I follow, and I really like the direction I’ve taken it now.

Instead of the RO split scenes happening where the last one left off, Speaker, Seer, and Gavin are gonna have a chat about Things™ to move the next story arc forward. Then Speaker will get some downtime, by themself at first and then in an extended scene split with the RO of their choosing.

All the Big Plot Things that were going to happen in Chapter 4 will be moved to Chapter 5 instead, and 4 will be a bit more of a filler episode. A deep breath before the plunge, as it were.

This split won’t just be a quick conversation/reaction from the RO, but a full on different direction for the rest of the chapter based on who you choose. Most of them will involve leaving the house; all of them will involve actual one-on-one time (or one-on-two time, as the case may be) away from the others. And though romance isn’t required, all of them will have the potential to really move the romance forward if you so choose. One or two might even have a lock-in choice (maybe. I’m not 100 percent on that, so don’t hold me to it)

These scenes won’t be in the next update, because they’re all very complex, but the update will definitely have the Seer chat and at least some of the by-yourself stuff. The update after will have the rest of the alone time stuff (including the clothes/body CC you’ve all been waiting for), and then the one after will start the RO scenes. I think.

I may actually split the RO scenes into separate updates, and let my darlings over at Patreon vote for the order they’re released. That way I can focus on one at a time instead of trying to split my attention six ways at once.

Okay, that’s enough rambling for me today. Time to get back to work! Still got a lot to get done before this is ready, but it’s so close now.

#speaker game #progress update #so happy to finally have some progress to update about XD #maybe I can finally start answering some asks again too and fully resurrect this poor blog

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sweets4dolls · 2 months

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HIII! i LOVE your writing so much it’s so good! i swear i’m like rereading all of your everyday cuz they’re so😚🤌

i was wondering if i could request a valentino x bunny reader where smt happened and now she’s a lil upset but val still has work to do at the club or smt and so he takes her with him and shes lowkey a lil drugged up(if your comfortable with that i completely understand if you’re not) on his lap from his smoke?

i feel like he’d be really condescending and only give her the bare minimum of attention and by the end of the night or after a long time she would get really pouty (*´-`)

if you don’t feel like writing it i understand 1000% cuz it is a lil much!!

pairing: valentino + fem!bunny!reader

content warnings: smut, drug intake, not proofread, dacryphilia?, kinda mean!val but he's already canonically mean sooooo, p in v

notes: hes so mean but he's just so jsdklfjlk

going to the club was just about the last thing you had wanted to do.

nonetheless, you had been dragged here by valentino, now sitting all pretty for him on his lap as a chats up some other sinner, for sex or for work, you didn't know what and you didn't care.

his hand tugs at your soft ears as he focuses in on the other persons dialect, making your face scrunch up - he'd brought you out and now he wasn't even paying attention to you?

craving some sort of attention from him, you nuzzle your face into his chest as your hips squirm unintentionally as you do, causing his hand to run from your ears to your thigh, wrapping his hand over it and pressing you into him to stop your movements.

after a few moments with your head on his chest, you tug on his shirt silently, not wanting to make a scene. successfully, you break his attention away from the other demon, but consequently receiving him blowing smoke into your lovely face, making you splutter and cough as he smiles and goes back to ignoring you, a silent warning.

but you just don't get it, now a bit hazy from inhaling the smoke, you only seem to be craving his attention more. so you nestle your body closer to his, pressing into him, and for the rest of the night wriggle on his lap trying to get closer to him.

by the end of the night, he's nearly dragging you to the car, almost lifting you up by your now probably bruised wrist. once he slams the car door shut, he looks at you with that sleek smile as he brings a hand to cup the flesh of your cheek.

"conejita, what was that?" he says all sweetly as a hand slowly rides up the plushness of your thigh. you look at him all confused, not entirely sure what you did as you respond with, "I just missed you is all," batting your lashes in a coquettish fashion as you feel him slide your panties off, "n' you wouldn't even look at me the whole night."

"aw," he coos before his grip on your face becomes tighter, "so you decide to act like a fucking brat?" he says, voice still sugary as his fingers flick over your clit and another hand moves to lift up your dress to reveal your pulsing cunt.

"m' sorry, I thought-" a small whimper leaves your mouth as valentino continues to berate you, "it doesn't matter what you thought anymore, bunny, I'm giving you attention now so you better take it."

just like that, he's sliding into your cunt, hips slamming against your rhythmically, pushing his cock as far inside you as he can. with one of his hands in that tugs at your hair, he mocks you from above to further along the pretty tears that slide down your now pretty pink complexion.

"my bratty bunny, wanting my attention to be all for her," he smirks as he watches the tears that brim and collect on your long lashes fall and trickle down your darling face, prompting them to kiss them out of existence as all you can do is babble incoherently.

you whimper and shake as he continues to make fun of and fuck you, bullying his dick into your fluttering cunt, taking in all of his abuse. your hands scrape against his skin, drawing red streaks in their wake, trying to mediate the feeling of his dick inside of you by doing something else.

soon enough, you're both cumming all over the seat of the car, undoubtedly staining it with your fluids as he pulls out of you. "that's right, you'll take what I give you like a good little conejita," he says as he presses a hot kiss to your parted lips.

"pathetic, you just needed some dick in your pussy, didn't you?"

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut #valentino x reader #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino smut

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 11 months

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Studious IV (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+

You continue reading Aemond's diary. As his true feelings for you become ever more clear, can you decipher your own feelings for him?

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: Aemond in his smut writer era (semi-public sex, p in v sex, tiddy suckin', riding, fingering, oral sex f receiving, bad sex)

Author's Note: So sorry for the delay! But this baby is 11K words, so hopefully that makes up for it! Also, I tried for a long time to format this like the others, but tumblr wouldn't let me post it if I did, so the formatting is a little different here.

Read Part I Here - Read Part II Here - Read Part III Here

My Masterlist

Taglist will be done via reblogs (there are simply too many of you to fit here)

Studious IV

You were never setting foot in the library again.

Not after what you just read. Not when you were sure that the mere memory of it would have you bursting into flames the moment you crossed the threshold.

Good gods, only a few entries ago, Aemond could hardly bring himself to write the word ‘cunt,’ and now this? What in the Seven Hells were his advisors – Grand Maester Orwyle, Lord Jasper Wylde, and Prince Aegon – teaching him?

You weren’t sure whether the odd feeling in your stomach was due to how much you ate – an entire meat pie and five tea cakes, all washed down with a pot and a half of raspberry tea – or what you had just read.

Either way, it was not enough to stop you from glancing about your bedchamber to ensure no one was watching you and then rereading the entry from the beginning.

The 16th day in the 5th moon of the year.

I have just returned from the library. Grand Maester Orwyle suggested that I consult a book on anatomy. Since there was no business of court I was required to attend today, I asked one of the librarians to help me retrieve the title after I finished my training.

I also found a few books Aegon recommended, only after I dismissed the librarian – I did not want him to know that I took those. Or that I even knew what they were. Gossip abounds in the capital, and I do not wish to be the subject of more than I already am.

By the titles alone, I am surprised Mother allows them to remain in the Keep. I likely will not read most of them. Aegon has already traumatised me quite thoroughly. I see no reason to allow him to ruin reading for me, as well. Although one title, ‘A Caution for Young Girls,’ seems innocent enough.

But the books are not why I am writing now, when my usual routine is to write immediately before I retire to bed. I just… I need to commit this to paper before it leaves me entirely.

On my way out of the library, I saw her. My wife – if I die tomorrow or in a hundred years, I shall never tire of calling her that.

She has quickly found the more private areas of the library, it seems. I would never have seen her if I had not been considering going there to read myself.

It must mean something that she did not choose just any of the countless hidden places within the maze of the library, but my favourite – a secluded alcove along the western wall. An indicator of our compatibility, perhaps. Or even a sign from the gods?

Had the books I’d been carrying not been so… unsuitable, I would have asked to join her.

No, I wouldn’t have. That would require far more courage than I can summon when I see her.

I just stared at her, watching her face as she read. From where I stood, I could not see what she was reading. But I could see her, and that was enough.

She is so expressive! I saw her both smile and frown in quick succession, and once, her entire face scrunched in displeasure as if she had just taken a bite of lemon! Gods, how can even such an unpleasant expression be so beautiful?

Perhaps I should not have watched her at all, for the longer I stood there, the further my mind drifted. And then, I heard Aegon’s voice, as clearly as if he were standing beside me.

‘Don’t limit yourself to the bedchamber brother, or even the bed! A wall or a table serves just as well. And there is a certain thrill to knowing you could be discovered…’

Damn him. Why did I ever ask for his assistance? I would have been better off enlisting the help of an actual whore! At least then, the vulgarity would not come from the future King. Damn him to the deepest of the Seven Hells.

But that stupid advice echoed in my mind over and over. And against my will and better judgement, an image began to form. A dream – a waking dream.

Though my feet remained planted on the floor, I imagined setting aside my books and joining her in that alcove. She would look up and smile upon hearing my approach, perhaps even giggle at my attempt at stealth.

I would sit beside her and ask what she was reading. I might even ask her to read to me. But I would not let her read for long.

I would kiss her while she read. Not on her lips but all over her perfect face. Her cheeks, her forehead, on the tip of her nose. All just to distract her, to make her laugh. Only when she made so much noise that I feared discovery would I kiss her lips to quiet her and finally claim my prize.

The kiss would not be like in the Sept, or in her chambers that night. Instead, she would kiss me back and open herself to me. I would kiss her, and kiss her, and kiss her. Until we were both out of breath but still wanting more.

Seeing her like that, with her lips swollen and cheeks flushed… I would not be able to wait until we returned to our chambers. I would lift her onto that very table, books be damned.

Like our wedding night, we would not undress. We would be in too much of a hurry.

But even hurried, I would be gentle. I would take the time to prepare her, as Lord Wylde said I must do every time. Doing so makes the experience more pleasurable for the woman, he says. And Orwyle added that her enjoyment makes it more likely that the coupling will be fruitful.

Gods, I hardly care about that anymore. Of course, I want an heir, or several. But I want her more. I want her to feel as much pleasure as I do. To ‘peak,’ as Wylde and Orwyle put it. Aegon uses other words, but I find them too vulgar.

And in the library, making an heir would be the last thing on my mind. Even finding my own pleasure would be secondary. I would use my fingers to prepare her – perhaps get her to peak once before I even enter her?

Aegon says women can find release much more than men can. According to him, he once made a woman peak ten times in one night. I would be more amenable to believing him if he didn’t also claim he did so five times. But maybe he is right about ‘practising’ increasing stamina. Though he has had years of practice, and I have had only two days…

But in the dream world where I have the courage to approach her at all, and the gall to bed her in the library of all places (can you call it ‘bedding’ if it is not done in an actual bed?), I also have that stamina. And the skill to indeed make her peak with just my fingers.

I do not know what sounds she would make, as she was entirely silent on our wedding night, but I would want her to make them. I would want her to make such noise that I would have no choice but to kiss her to quiet her and keep her from drawing the attention of the rest of the library.

Even when I was buried within her, I would kiss her. With one arm wrapped around her hips to hold her steady as I fucked her so hard the table would shake, and the other hand tangled in her hair so I could kiss her just as hard.

I want to kiss her so badly. When I finally go to her again, that is what I will do first.

Once we had both finished – for I would ensure she peaked again with me inside her – I would kiss her more, softly, until our breathing steadied. Then, we would simply take our seats again, and this time, I would read to her.

By all the Seven, what has become of me? To not only have such thoughts but to revel in them as I do?

You didn’t bother reading the rest of the entry again before clutching the diary to your chest and staring at the bed canopy above you as a thousand questions burned through your mind and set your heart racing.

Had he been thinking about that the day he came to you in the library?

Was it what he intended to do, had you not reacted so poorly to his words?

Were you really wishing that he had?

You turned on your side, cradling his diary as you once did a small stuffed pony, and noticed for the first time that night had fallen – you had spent nearly the entire day reading. For a moment, you considered running to Aemond’s chambers. But when you looked back at the journal, there were still more than a dozen ribbons shut in its pages.

And if you went to him just after reading what you did…

Whatever was becoming of Aemond, no doubt thanks to the men he had asked for help in better bedding you, by reading his diary and the most private thoughts and fantasies contained within, it was becoming of you too. For when your eyes drifted closed, Aemond’s dream of the library became your dream as well.

The next several days of entries were almost identical.

Aemond woke at dawn after a night of dreams filled with you. They were not always of a carnal nature. Sometimes he dreamed simply of holding or kissing you. Once, he dreamed about flying with you atop his dragon. You didn’t know whether the prospect was thrilling or terrifying. Perhaps both.

Each day, he broke his fast, trained, then ate a small meal before joining court.

Before joining you.

When he wrote in the diary after dinner and several hours of studying and ‘practising’ (you still could not determine what that meant), he still remembered every little thing you did. You had never spoken at court – it was not your place to. But he had catalogued your every movement and reaction to the business of the realm. Every raise of your brows, every repressed smile, and every curious tilt of your head.

You thought you were quite proficient at maintaining a regal mask of indifference. Your mother had you practice it on the journey to King’s Landing while she commanded your brothers to shout at you the most outrageous things they could think of (much of which she promptly scolded them for when they were done).

But Aemond saw through the mask. Not only that, but he correctly interpreted every movement you made.

He knew that the twitch of your lip when Lord Bolton made a petition was a sign of your marked distaste for the man. He knew the scrunch of your brow upon the reading of a missive from a Pentosi diplomat was you noticing a contradiction from the previous message and realising the diplomat was lying. And he knew that you stiffened every time he looked at you because you were nervous about what he would say or do.

Aemond knew you. Even then.

And yet you had so dreadfully misunderstood him.

The shame of it was enough to make you set down the diary and call for a bath – a private bath, without any of your maids present even in the adjourning rooms. You gave an excuse that you were exhausted and simply wished to remain alone.

But really?

As part of his study of the anatomy book Orwyle recommended, Aemond had drawn a diagram of what lay between a woman’s legs. And annotated it based on the advice of Lord Wylde and Prince Aegon.

You were curious to see – with the aid of a hand mirror – just how accurate the diagram and annotations were.

You awoke the following morning feeling more refreshed than you had since you came to the palace, from both the welcome break in your courtly duties and the exploration you had conducted in the privacy of your bath. Though you were fairly sure you did not reach a ‘peak,’ as Aemond described it, you felt close to the height of something several times. But each time, you panicked at the intensity of the racing feelings within you and withdrew your hand. Still, those few minutes of pleasure were incredibly relaxing.

And as it was Aemond’s notes that allowed you to discover the feeling that your own clumsy attempts had failed to bring, the prospect that you would – eventually – once more join him in his bed became thrilling beyond reason.

In truth, the only thing that stopped you from rushing across the castle the very moment you emerged from the bath was the unfortunate fact that you were still bleeding, though it was light.

More than that, while your body was more than ready to forgive Aemond, your heart and mind were still hesitant. He had hurt you. He made you cry. Reading his diary helped you understand that it had never been intentional. However, you still needed to understand everything before making a final decision on whether to forgive him and if you could, as Aemond hoped in his note, ‘learn to like’ or even to love him.

So, after breaking your fast, you again settled into the couch and turned to the next green ribbon.

The 23rd day in the 5th moon of the year

Were Aegon not my brother and the heir, I would throw him from the top of the Rookery.

‘A Caution for Young Girls’ is no such thing. It is little more than a manual in promiscuity and sin!

But… damn him. It is quite educational.

Unlike the book Grand Maester Orwyle suggested, it is not focused on the science of anatomy or conception. Rather, it is entirely concerned with the pleasure of women. After all, it is the supposedly true story of a woman’s quest for pleasure.

A Wylde woman, if it is to be believed. I may have to ask Lord Jasper about it. Is this why he’s had such success with his own wives?

But that, and indeed the sinful nature of the book itself, is unimportant. What is important is that it may actually be the key to my learning how to pleasure my wife.

It spoke at length of various methods of using one’s fingers. Crooking the fingers while within seems to be crucial, as is locating a ‘sweet spot’ where her walls feel slightly different. That spot, as well as the ‘pearl’ which lays at the top of her sex, is the epicentre of her pleasure.

And, like the others said, preparation is required. This is where the use of the fingers comes into it – as well as various other methods. For example, the book mentions kissing quite often, and not only on the lips. Or the cheeks. Or even anywhere on the face.

I admit the idea, though it is new to me, is quite appealing. The book mentioned several places where women most like to be kissed. The jaw, the throat, behind the ear, the nape of the neck, the collarbone…

There was a spot of ink, as though Aemond’s pen had been resting on the page without moving for a long moment.

…the breasts, and lower.

I do not understand why. Perhaps it is because of Aegon’s incessant comments about the breasts of every woman in the Keep, save our mother and his wife – would that he would also exclude my wife! – but I find myself thinking about her breasts with startling frequency. I did not get to see them on our wedding night after I foolishly forgot to undress her.

There is a story in the book which… well, I find myself wanting to replicate. One which would provide me ample access to her breasts. But more than that, it carries an intimacy which I crave most of all.

When Lady Coryanne was serving as a handmaid to a warlock in Qarth, she often found herself called to help him ‘relax’ after a long day. On such occasions, she would mount him while he sat at his desk and ‘ride’ him while he buried his face in her breasts.

I… it was easy to imagine my wife and me in a similar, though more loving, position. Likely not at my desk, as I don’t actually use it often. But perhaps, here. On my chair by the hearth, where I read my books and write in this diary before bed.

She would come back – for she would be living here, with me, not across the Holdfast and so far away – after a long day. Maybe she would have been in the gardens, or with Mother, Helaena and the children, or in the library for hours. I would have been stuck away from her all day in meetings, court, or training.

Even apart from her for only a day, I would miss her terribly. As I do every hour I do not see her. And she would miss me too.

When she came in, she would press herself against the door as she locked it, then turn to me with a mischievous grin. I would know what she wanted, but I would not play along. Instead, I’d mutter a greeting and turn back to my book, pretending that my blood was not racing at just the sight of her. For I want her blood to be as heated as mine.

You read the last paragraph again, the realisation finally set in that Aemond was about to narrate another of his fantasies. Fortunately, after his previous entry about the library, you decided to be more cautious and had already dismissed your servants until your afternoon meal. You had suspected that there may be more in the diary that was thoroughly unsuitable for prying eyes.

And, thanks to his diligent notetaking, you knew precisely what to do when the feelings such unsuitable words provoked began to burn through you.

You undoubtedly did not want an audience for that…

I would let her tease me, pretending none of it fazed me. When she brushed her fingers lightly across my shoulders, I would not flinch. When she leaned over me further than she would really need to see what I was reading, but wanting me to see that peek of her breasts nearly spilling out from her dress, I would barely look. And when she pressed a kiss, long and slow, to my neck – gods, would I like that too? – I might even pretend it was an inconvenience.

It would vex her that I did not give her the attention she desperately wanted. Not enough to truly anger her, but only enough to make her pout. So that when she took the book from my hands and dropped it to the floor, then sat atop me in the chair with her thighs straddling mine… I would simply have no choice but to grab her little lip as she stuck it out and push it back into place before kissing her.

I would kiss her in every place the book instructs, taking my time to worship every bit of her. I want to drive her as mad as she does me just by her mere existence.

But I know she would not simply let me tease her. She would return each kiss I gave her and more. Atop me, she would roll her hips slowly, purposefully, as if we were engaged in a dance. I would be able to feel her, hot and wet and as eager as me, but each time I rose to meet her, she would pull away.

Gods, am I really wishing for her to deny me? Perhaps practising as Aegon instructed has conditioned me to crave such delays to my satisfaction.

Either way, I think I would break before she did. She is strong-willed, and with as many brothers as she has, I believe she can be quite patient. So, I would beg. I would apologise for trying to tease her and plead for her forgiveness. And for her to…

She would, I hope, without hesitation. She would rise only long enough for her to remove her smallclothes and for me to do away with my trousers. Then, we would both sit again, together, with me gently guiding her down to mount me – Seven Hells, that makes it sound like I’m a horse.

I’ll be whatever she wants.

Again, and as always, I would give her a moment to adjust and make sure she is comfortable. Orwyle’s book said that with well-endowed partners – which, according to the measurements in the book, I am – women may always need that moment.

But I would be glad to give it to her. For it would allow me to unlace her bodice, and like the warlock from the book, I could bury my face in my beloved’s breasts.

I find it hard to imagine what it would be like, how they would feel. Soft, I think. Warm, as she is. And perhaps, if I pressed close enough, I could hear her heart beating.

When I was fully settled within her, would I hear it beat faster? Or would it slow with contentment, knowing she was safe and loved – oh so dearly loved – within my arms. Perhaps it would be like the stories, and I would hear it skip a beat.

Either way, I would be more than content to just sit there, breathe her in, and let her move at her own pace. We would not need to be fast, as we would in the library. In my own rooms – our rooms – there would be no need for hurry. We could just stay there, entwined, or we could move together.

I think I would prefer it slowly. Not even seeking our releases, really. Just… enjoying each other. Enjoying the connection of our bodies, our minds, and our souls. Knowing that we are one, that the gods have made us one, and that nothing can tear us apart.

Although… I do think her legs would get tired after a while. That is something I should perhaps be worried about. Especially if she did want to move, and fast. To seek release.

If she did, I would help her. The book did not detail how, as Lady Coryanne was a servant at the time, but… I could figure it out. I could move my hips up to meet hers, or even lift her on my own? I think doing so with my hands on her hips would give me the most leverage. Or perhaps her rear?

I am very drawn to the idea of holding her close as we reach our peaks. Of feeling her breath on my skin, being close enough to hear each little noise she makes, and the sensation of her gripping me as tight as she can as she comes. Even the thought of her nails digging into me brings a certain thrill. And if I don’t reach my peak with her – which, I think, is very unlikely – we can always continue. Or move somewhere more comfortable if her legs do get tired.

At this point, I think I am more than ready to practice. Of course, this wasn’t my intention when I started writing, but… yes, I am most definitely ready. And anything else I wanted to write about seems inconsequential now.

You dropped the diary onto your heaving chest, the image Aemond’s words had painted still burning in your mind. Seven Hells, you could practically feel his strong arms wrapped around you, holding you to his chest as you moved together, his breath hot against your neck as he whispered words of praise between desperate kisses.

With a hazy smile, you snuggled further into the couch and beneath your blanket. As exhilarating as the descriptions of his desires were, what truly warmed your heart was the way he wrote about you, the two of you together.

The connection of your souls as one? It was exactly what you’d dreamed of when first told of your betrothal. Aemond was what you dreamed of.

Why did he have to stop writing? What in the name of the Seven was he practising that was more important than that?

Frustrated and with your pleasure now truly over, you closed the diary and turned on your side, resigned to simply stewing in your own thoughts for the few hours left until your maids returned.

After a light, solitary afternoon meal, you again dismissed your maids. By this point, they were more than a little suspicious about the titleless book you were reading. But, you insisted that you simply wanted to be alone, for your moon’s blood still plagued you. It wasn’t entirely a lie. You did still have some cramping and a slight headache.

In truth, it was because you knew what would happen in just a few entries – your second night together.

It surely wouldn’t be as thrilling as some of his other fantasies. You knew that firsthand. But after learning what Aemond felt for you, you were desperate to know his side of that night.

So desperate, in fact, that you barely skimmed the following two entries in your haste to reach it. Both primarily had to do with whatever smut he had read in A Caution for Young Girls. The first was a rather exhaustive list of all the ways he wanted to kiss you – and there were far more ways than you were previously aware of.

The second caused your most intense blushing yet, for it was near treasonous! After reading another story of Coryanne Wylde ‘riding’ a man, he fantasised about you riding him while he sat on the Iron Throne. It was an intriguing idea, but it seemed a little too hazardous to tempt you.

Finally, you reached what you had been waiting for.

The 26th day in the 5th moon of the year.

I had hoped not to make an entry today – for I had every intention of spending tonight in my wife’s chambers. But she is there, and tragically, I am here.

Tonight was almost worse than our wedding night.

When I saw her watching me in the training yard today, I thought… she was almost smiling – at me! She had no obligation to be there, and yet she was! She sought me out! She wanted to see me!

I had to bite back a cry of joy and relief. I immediately abandoned the rest of my training, nearly impaling the poor squire with my sword for how hard I threw it at him, so I could rush to the ramparts and greet her.

But when I got there, she was gone. I asked a few of the other lords and ladies that were there, but no one knew where she went. Even after speaking to her, however briefly, I still do not understand why she left.

You felt your cheeks flush with shame. Aemond hadn’t grimaced at you that day – quite the opposite. He had been so excited to see you there, and as usual, you had misinterpreted his reaction.

Or, based on how frequently these misunderstandings occurred, perhaps his expressions were merely indecipherable to normal people. Or, more likely, maybe just to you.

You set his diary down, careful to use one of your discarded ribbons to mark your place, and picked up your own. By this point, you had filled several pages with your reactions to Aemond’s writing – some of it sincere, some bordering on humour.

Yet you had no words to express how sorry you were that you had so thoroughly misjudged him. So you wrote nothing and just kept reading.

When I went to her chambers to check on her, I encountered one of her maids, who told me she had retired early with a headache and would not be joining the family for dinner.

Perhaps I should have gone into her chambers then and asked what was wrong. I knew – or at least suspected – that the headache was a lie. An excuse to allow her privacy. I often do the same, citing my scar. Which, as I told her, is not always a lie.

But if I had gone to her, as I wished. I would not have known what to say. Ask her why she ran from the training yard without speaking to me? Or why she wanted to avoid me and the family? Tell her I’m sorry for the disappointment of our wedding night? Ask Beg for a second chance?

I could not do it. I was tired from training and admittedly still somewhat discombobulated from realising she had been watching me. Though I did make it to her door, I merely touched the handle for a moment before retiring to my own chambers.

Now, after yet another disastrous visit… I should have gone to her earlier. I should have trusted my instincts (as Aegon often encourages me to do) instead of allowing my mind to think itself into an inescapable hole.

As I bathed and redressed, and even while attending court and dinner, I could not stop thinking about her. Agonising over what I may have done to make her flee from me?

I never even considered that she may actually have a headache until I was again at her door after dinner. The fear that I was disturbing her, perhaps making her pain worse, was nearly enough to make me turn and flee.

But then, her voice came, soft and light and so enticing. Of course, I somehow managed to answer idiotically when she asked who it was. Though she lessened the sting of embarrassment with a small joke. She is so achingly clever!

I asked her how she was, and her answer made it evident that the headache was a ruse. I am trying not to be too proud that my deduction was correct. She is not used to lying, nor is she good at it. And it is yet another thing I admire about her.

For hours, I planned what I would say to her. It was eloquent and thoughtful – practically poetry.

The tail of the last ‘y’ extended nearly an inch, and you imagined Aemond just staring at the page, consumed by his thoughts for a moment.

But her room looked different tonight. She finally unpacked.

There is a large tapestry above her hearth depicting her home keep, the field below filled with vibrant pink flowers with bright yellow centres. The same flowers appear nearly everywhere. On framed examples of embroidery, on her curtains, pillows, and even the blanket strewn over the back of her couch.

I must find out what they are, for they are clearly very important to her.

You looked up from the diary, glancing about your room. Indeed, you had not realised how many dog roses decorated your possessions. It was no wonder he guessed they were your favourite.

‘I was quite impressed when you brought me my favourite flower,’ you wrote in your diary. ‘I thought you had somehow read my thoughts. I suppose I made it easy for you.’

She also has a large bookcase in her sitting room, which was specifically requested when her father sent word accepting the betrothal. Since the last time I was in her chambers, she has begun to fill the shelves with books and trinkets. I spotted a small silver bell, a wooden box carved with various birds, and a little glass flower. It was not the same flower that is so prevalent elsewhere in her chambers (this one was a pale purple rather than pink), but still quite pretty.

While pondering that flower, I returned to the couch to compare it to the pink flower on her blanket and saw what she had been reading – “The Last Dragonlords,” my first, and still favourite, history of my house. It is not a particularly rigorous academic work, but I prefer it for the sense of wonder it has for the story of my ancestors.

If, at that point, I remembered any of what I wanted to say to her, the sight of that book, and the knowledge that she was somehow reading my favourite… I lost all words. I fear I fell silent for an uncomfortably long time, for she spoke next.

She wanted to know the reason for my visit. I asked her directly about the ruse of her headache. She seemed nervous, so I told her I do the same and that I often experience lingering pain. I was tempted to remove my patch and show her, but… she was already quite nervous. I did not want to make her more so, or frighten her so thoroughly that she will never warm to me.

What lay beneath his eyepatch that would frighten you so? You had heard many rumours. That his lost eye was nothing more than a pit of darkness. That he had replaced it with a jewel. That an ever-burning fire, fueled by his hatred and rage, burned within.

Despite the stories, you felt a twinge of shame and hurt that, despite his love for you, he did not trust you with seeing him truly bare. He thought you could be frightened away.

Somehow, that shame far overshadowed any curiosity or fear about what lay beneath the brown leather of his eyepatch.

I could already tell it wasn’t going to go how I wanted – she would not meet my eye. So, I offered to leave. I would not impose myself on her when she did not want me to. That is not how I want to start this. Or, start it again.

But she did want me to go! At least, that is what I thought she meant. I am not so sure anymore. She said something about my right to be there as her husband. At the time, I thought it was her shy way of asking me to stay. Now… I think she may have just been repeating something her mother or a Septa taught her.

There was another small patch of angry scribbles.

I’m so stupid! And hardly better than Aegon. No – she may not have been particularly enthusiastic, but I am sure if she genuinely did not want me there, she would have said so. And I would have obeyed. After all, she was quick to ask me to stop some of the other things I tried to do.

She did not like the kissing.

When I first mentioned that I would like to lie with her – which I foolishly reasoned was out of my desire for an heir instead of my desire for her – she simply laid on the bed like on our wedding night. But that is not what I want. I do not want this to simply be a union of duty! At least, not anymore. And I so wanted to kiss her.

So, I beckoned her to me, and she obeyed. My hopes that this would be different were still relatively high. I got closer, touched her face, and asked if I could kiss her.

And she asked, ‘Why?’

I swear that one little word hurt more than any pain I’ve felt in the training yard. Almost more than… well, not quite more than that. But close.

I could not think of any reason other than that she is my wife, and I love her and want more than anything to kiss her. I only told her the former and the latter, for I think if I told her I loved her, she would have been more afraid than if she had seen me without my patch. And the gods must be good, for she said yes.

Then I kissed her. I held her close, and I kissed her.

It was the most wonderful thing! She was soft and warm. And when I laced my hand through her hair, she made the most delightful sound! I could have just kissed her forever.

But then it was over. She shouted and pushed me away. It was… it was just after I tried to use my tongue. I don’t think she liked it.

She asked me why I ‘needed’ to kiss her. She must have disliked it very much.

I had no other explanation than what I had already offered. At least, none that I could tell her without sending her running from me forever. So I stopped and told her I did not need it – the first lie I’ve ever told her.

When she moved back to the bed, I could not help myself. I could not let us be in a marriage where we lie together out of nothing more than duty, fully clothed and anxious to get it over with. It was foolish, and I probably scared her with the request, but I asked her to remove her nightgown. She had already taken off her robe – a massive thing in her house colours that practically drowns her.

You allowed a brief kernel of anger to spark within you, enough for you to pick up your pen and write him another little message in your diary.

‘That robe is dear to me, thank you very much. What is it that makes you hate it so?’

There is nothing more beautiful in the world than her. She puts even the Maiden to shame. I would have been happy to stare at her, to take in that beauty until I had my fill – if I would ever get my fill.

She got on the bed and positioned herself exactly how she was on our wedding night. Not quite how I pictured it, but considering her hesitancy, I did not want to push her.

It took all my control to stop myself from kissing her again when I undressed and joined her. But I did. I also resisted doing anything more than just looking at her breasts.

I sat between her legs and stared at her. While I was more than ready to begin, she was not. At all. Of course, I knew I would have to prepare her, but I hoped she would have had at least some desire for me already.

I started with gentle touches, drawing circles on her thighs. She shivered a bit when I began, but she didn’t ask me to stop. From where I was sitting, I could tell she enjoyed it, even if she didn’t understand it. She did ask me to explain, and my answer was probably lacking – how does one explain why he was so inadequate? – but she gave a small nod when I promised that tonight would be better.

Then I finally touched her where I really wanted to and was delighted to find her… well, not as wet as I’d hoped, but it was an improvement upon our wedding night! I ran my fingers over her entrance, hoping to coax more wetness from her before I truly began. And when I looked at her again to ensure I wasn’t hurting her, she smiled at me!

Encouraged, I kept my fingers at her entrance, not venturing inside yet, but continuing my preparations there while I began to seek her pearl. As the books said, I only had to draw a straight line upward from her entrance to find it.

And, oh, when I found it! Her eyes snapped shut, her back arched off the bed, and the most glorious whine escaped her! It was everything I had imagined and more. Gods, I think I could have peaked just from watching her as I circled her pearl again and again, faster and faster.

But then, she asked me to stop – begged me to.

I thought I must have done something wrong, but she shook her head when I asked if it hurt. And when I asked if it felt good, she would not answer. She merely requested that I get on with what I needed to do and leave, for she was tired. This wound cut even deeper than before with the kissing.

I wanted to prepare her more – I was going to use my mouth on her. To show her how dearly I wish to please her, how much I want to worship and love her, if only she’d let me.

In anticipation of that act, I have been consulting Coryanne Wylde’s various accounts and expert critiques of the act in order to form the perfect strategy.

To begin, I would undress her, as I planned to do on our wedding night, laying gentle, nearly chaste kisses on each new bit of skin I revealed. Once she was bare, I would kiss her. Deeply. To give her a taste of what is to come. Then, I would kiss my way down. Her jaw, her throat, her collarbone, her breasts, and the plane of her stomach.

Once I made it past her navel, I would take her leg in my hand and begin a new trail of kisses upwards. The book says to start at the ankle, but I am too impatient for that – I will begin at the knee instead.

Just when she thought I was finally about to give her what she craved more than anything, I would once again change course to kiss her lips one final time. Then, I would descend.

I would start slowly, experimenting with different tactics to determine what drives her deliciously mad. Once I knew, I would feast. I would devour her like her pleasure was the air I needed to breathe. Like her cries of pleasure were beautiful music, and I would die if it ever stopped.

I would bring her to peak once with my mouth on her entrance. Again on her pearl. Then again and again in whichever way made her scream the loudest.

Only when she was so drunk with pleasure that she could no longer rise to meet my mouth or grasp at my hair would I relent. I would make my way back up to her mouth and soothe her with gentle kisses until she had regained herself and was begging for me to finally fuck her.

But I didn’t get to do any of that.

She asked me to stop, so I did. I pumped myself a little to ensure the disappointment hadn’t rendered me incapable of performing my duty and entered her.

The preparation did help. Entering her was easier, and she did not wince as much as the first time. And she felt even more heavenly somehow. The feeling was so intense that I had to take a moment to remind myself that she only wanted me to finish quickly so she would not have to endure me any longer.

So, I fucked her. I did not make love to her, as is my true desire. I just fucked her, like she was just any woman and not the love of my life.

And then, a miracle! I thrust into her, something about the angle allowing me in quite deep, and she reacted. She gasped, breathless, and her hips snapped up to meet mine. I froze in surprise and elation. I found her ‘sweet spot!’

But when I smiled at her, she turned away and refused to look at me again.

I just kept going. I did not try to hit that spot again, so as to not upset her further. I finished as quickly as I could and left the bed.

It was stupid of me, but I turned back to her after dressing. Everything had gone so horribly, but I still love her. I still need her. So I could not just leave her like that.

I asked if I could kiss her again. She let me. I was quick, as promised.

Then I came back here, once again alone and no closer to earning her love than I was before.

I must meet with my advisors again tomorrow. Perhaps they can help me understand why I keep fucking this up so badly when all I want is for her to let me love her the way I want to and for her to love me in return.

Your heart ached so severely that you thought there might be bruises when you looked down at your chest. But there was just skin – skin that Aemond would have happily kissed, had you let him.

As horrible and confusing as that night had been for you, it had been so tenfold for Aemond. He had wanted a grand, romantic evening, and you had greeted him with only coldness and suspicion.

He called you ‘the love of his life.’ You ran your finger over those words so many times that they became smudged, then went to write something in your diary but halted with your pen hovering over the paper.

What could you write to match what he’d said about you? Even if you could, would it really be true? How many times could you say, ‘I’m sorry?’

Well, at least one more time. ‘I’m so sorry, Aemond,’ you wrote, ‘I didn’t know, and I was still scared. Not of you, but of what I thought my life was to be. If you had only told me… I do not blame you, I swear. I just wish the both of us had been more honest with each other.’

You were far too exhausted to continue. It was not yet midafternoon, and you had already been from the near-heights of carnal pleasure to the depths of your despair that the unfortunate state of your marriage was, in actuality, mostly your fault.

So, after setting Aemond’s diary aside, you picked up your embroidery basket and began to work while your mind wandered.

It was only when your maids arrived to bring you dinner that you realised that, somehow, the dog roses you intended to make had become a sprawling wisteria vine.

You dreamed of the castle garden in late spring when all the flowers were in bloom. As you walked down the garden path, you saw every colour imaginable amongst the vibrant greens. But there was only one flower you really wanted to see – and the man you knew would be waiting for you beneath them.

Just as the first purple tendrils came into view, the dream faded, and you woke to see the first hints of dawn still beneath the horizon.

Drawing your blankets over your head, you squeezed your eyes shut and stubbornly tried to fall back asleep and return to your dream – to no avail. You were well and truly awake. And it would be some time before your maids came to dress you for the day.

So, dragging the blanket from your bed with you, you trudged back into your solar and settled into the couch before picking up Aemond’s diary again.

The 27th day in the 5th moon of the year

I met with Lord Wylde, Grand Maester Orwyle, and Aegon this morning. They had advice, but it was not as… straightforward as I had hoped. There is no simple trick to get her to love me. Nothing I can study from a book and then implement with assured success.

I have to woo her. I have to be witty and pleasant and charming and… romantic.

I do not think this is going to work.

Especially not after my first attempt was so disastrous.

Lord Wylde asked that I tell him about her, so I did. When he learned she enjoys reading as much as I do, he suggested I try to find common ground there. So, I went to try and find her in the library.

She was exactly where she was the last time I saw her there, still reading “The Last Dragonlords.” I watched her for a moment, savouring the look of contentment on her face as she read, as well as a few quick reactions to the book. How I love it when her nose scrunches in displeasure!

‘That is quite the odd thing to fixate on,’ you wrote in your diary. It seemed a decent night’s sleep had helped recover some of your humour. ‘What is it, in particular, that you like about my scrunched nose?’

She did smile at me when I approached, but I think she thought I was a Maester, for her smile faltered when I greeted her. And she was so shy. Usually, when I struggle to find the right words, she breaks the silence. Today, she did not.

At least it gave me time to remember why I came to the library. She was still reading “The Last Dragonlords,” so I told her it was my favourite and asked if I could join her. I think she was somewhat embarrassed about reading a children’s book, but I assured her it was no matter and that I would nonetheless enjoy reading it with her, and she allowed me to sit with her.

My plan was to sit with her, discuss the histories, and perhaps, in time, hold her hand as a first step toward genuine affection. But the plan quickly went awry.

It all happened so fast that I don’t even remember exactly what I said. But somehow, I insinuated that she was not intelligent enough to understand the book. The book meant for children – young children.

She was very upset with me. Rightfully so! Still upset enough that she stormed out of the library after making several cutting remarks that proved that she is, in fact, quite intelligent.

After several minutes and a brief reprimand from one of the Maesters, I finally gathered myself enough to realise that she had left the book there. As well as several pages of notes.

Of course, the noble thing would have been to not look and ask a servant to return them to her. But in that moment, I was desperate, not noble. So, I looked.

Her notes were beautifully organised and remarkably thorough – the work of a true scholar! She even crafted a beautiful family tree all the way through Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters. Had I not fumbled our initial interaction so entirely, we would have had a wonderful discussion.

You had feared him finding the notes, but you had never considered that he would be impressed rather than arrogantly amused. It made sense now that you knew his true nature. Perhaps, once whatever was between you was resolved, you could have that discussion.

In all honesty, there were a few questions you had that you hoped he would be able to answer. Not least of which being why in more than a thousand years, Targaryens had only come up with a dozen names that they repeated over and over again. You wrote as much in your diary.

It was useless for me to sulk in the library, agonising over what I should have said, so I gathered the book and her notes and left the library.

An apology was more than necessary, so I went to Aegon’s rooms. After all, there is perhaps no one with more experience apologising to women. Even if his apologies are self-serving.

When I arrived, I found Mother had already found Aegon first, and was well into another tirade about his behaviour. Normally, I would be happy to watch Mother yelling at him, but I did not feel I had time to. And Aegon was glad that I granted him a reprieve.

Admittedly, I had not wanted to admit to Mother that my wife and I were… not as close as I wanted. But, as she always is, she was eminently understanding, and far more helpful than Aegon was. His only suggestion was to bring her something nice – jewels, silks, or the like.

On the other hand, Mother gave me sage advice on what to say when I go to her. As my words have been my primary point of failure, I was very grateful for this. She did also say that a gift would not be amiss. An ‘offering of peace,’ she called it. But she advised something personal, not luxurious. If the gift is too valuable, she says, it will seem as if I am trying to buy her forgiveness rather than earn it.

I knew immediately what I should get her. I thanked Mother (and Aegon) and left at once for the gardens.

I found them – the flowers she loves so dearly. Dog roses, they are called. Unfortunately, they do not grow well in our climate, but the Maester’s managed to coax a few to bloom with their various potions and other horticultural creations.

They are almost as beautiful as her.

The Maester I spoke to said that it would be best if I had them cut just before I brought them to her, to preserve their beauty. So that is what I will do.

I will not practice tonight. At least… not that kind of practice. Instead, I will rehearse my apology. I cannot fail tomorrow.

You winced slightly, knowing that the next day would not go as Aemond planned and feeling as though it was your fault. But there was no changing that now. And you had already apologised – often and profusely.

So, you wrote only a simple note: ‘I don’t recall seeing dog roses on our tour of the gardens. Did you pluck them all?’

Looking back at his diary, you took a deep, steadying breath. Only two ribbons left.

The 28th day in the 5th moon of the year

I am the stupidest, most idiotic man in all the seven fucking kingdoms.

All I was trying to do was apologise to her for my unkind – though unintentionally so! – words in the library, but somehow it ended with her crying and me fleeing from her chambers yet again.

You cringed at the memory, almost not wanting to read on.

Aegon gladly offered his explanation, even after I told him I did not want it. He insists that I have so thoroughly repulsed her that she cannot help but burst into tears at the sight of me.

Mother thinks that she is just missing her family and her home, as she said. That she is overwhelmed by being alone in a strange place, and the familiar sight of the flowers – dog roses, as I have learned – brought those feelings to bursting.

Perhaps Mother is right. But her parents left a fortnight ago, and she has shown no other signs of homesickness. And she is not alone! She has the other ladies of the court to talk to, and Helaena and Mother adore her. And me.

If she came to me, I would do anything to cheer her. Not that she would seek comfort from me, no matter how dearly I wish she would. She certainly won’t after today.

After the disaster in the library yesterday and the scolding I received from Grand Maester Orwyle after my training this morning, I knew beyond a doubt that I needed to apologise. I… the shame I feel for having played any part in the state Orwyle described her in is unbearable.

So, I went to the gardens and had a Maester cut the flowers for me and arrange them in a simple bouquet.

She was on her couch when I arrived in her rooms – still in her nightgown and that robe. And again, she did not look at me. She had eyes only for the flowers. I thought then that they had been the right choice.

I apologised, but she did not react. She still just stared at the bouquet. So, I went ahead with the rest of my apology.

Then she touched my hand. It startled me, and I pulled away from her on instinct, dropping the bouquet in her lap. She looked at them like I had dropped a helpless kitten rather than flowers!

And she started crying. Softly, the tears welling in her eyes for a long moment before spilling over. I do not understand what I did to upset her. I said only what I had planned last night. It was so hard to resist brushing the tears away, but she seemed nearly volatile, and I did not want to make things worse.

‘I miss home,’ she said, finally.

It did sting that she does not consider King’s Landing and her life with me her home – it still does. But she is hundreds of miles away from the family of her birth, from the people who have undoubtedly treated her better than I have. I cannot blame her.

I apologised again for upsetting her and left.

At dinner, I had planned to ask Mother and Grandsire if we could find a way to send her home, at least for a little while. So she could be happy. Perhaps I could even go with her. I might have an easier time talking to her without the pressures of my family and the capital upon me.

You smiled at the thought of Aemond at your home keep. Of him in all his black leather among the fields of dog roses. Talking with your father in the library. Him training with your brothers – you were confident he could defeat any one of them alone, but knowing your brothers, they would absolutely gang up on him.

‘One day,’ you wrote, ‘I would love to show you my home.’

I was waiting for the opportunity to ask when she arrived! After this afternoon, I did not think she would come to dinner, but she did! I could have wept for my relief.

And when I offered my hand to her, she took it. Not only that, but she squeezed it – hard. I think believe it was her way of accepting my apology.

She did not speak during dinner, nor did anyone ask her too many questions. Aegon was his typically infuriating self, silently encouraging me to do something with her. What he expects me to do when in front of the entire family, I do not know.

After the meal, I offered to escort her back to her chambers, which she accepted. And once we were alone, she thanked me for the flowers!

It was going unusually well. That is, until I decided to open my mouth. I only meant to compliment her, as she did look quite beautiful, but… I just kept talking. And then I had suddenly insulted her gown from yesterday and her robe.

She closed herself off from me then, shoving away my arm. Why could I not just shut up? I know my words are the source of so many of our misunderstandings, yet I keep talking! At this point, I am strongly considering a vow of silence.

‘Please don’t take a vow of silence!’ you wrote, scrambling for your diary as if it mattered how quickly you got the words down. ‘Your voice is far too lovely for me to never hear it again.’

Tomorrow, I am going to try a suggestion from Lord Wylde. Show her that I am not a failure in everything I do. I pray it works.

You turned the page, expecting to find the entry for the next day, but there was none. There had been a page between the entries for the 28th and the 30th, but it had been sloppily torn out. All that remained was the beginnings of the date in the upper corner.

It was entirely against what you knew of Aemond. The man who had dutifully started his journal on the first day of the year and began each entry on a new page would not do something like this.

What had upset him so? Had you said something to him?

No, of course not. The only time you had seen him that day was in the training yard, and you hadn’t spoken to each other, not after… not after he stormed off. Had he actually been hurt in his fight with the Kingsguard? Or was he just embarrassed that you had witnessed him fall?

Gods, how you wished you had gone to him that night. But perhaps you could make up for it now.

‘After you were absent for dinner,’ you wrote to him in your diary, ‘I almost came to your rooms. I was worried for you. Though I confess, that was the only reason I found myself walking toward you… I missed you, at dinner. I missed you helping me into my chair. I missed your smile. I missed the way you’d hold the plates for me. Most of all, I missed your voice, and your presence next to me.’

You sniffled slightly, staring at a lamp on your wall to dry the tears that were forming before finishing the entry, ‘I’ve missed you these past days, as well. But I’m almost done. I’ll see you soon.’

The 30th day in the 5th moon of the year

I have made my gravest sin yet. And my most foolish.

We had the perfect morning together in the gardens. Silent, mostly, but perfect. She smiled at me! She allowed me to lead her through the gardens on my arm. It was… precisely what I had hoped for.

Until I once again acted like an absolute fucking fool.

Before I had to leave for court, I asked if I could come to her rooms that night. And for one perfect moment, I really believed she was going to say yes.

But then she mentioned her moon’s blood, and I just… panicked. I am not entirely an idiot (though I become less sure of that declaration with each passing moment), I know what that means.

It means that I’ve failed her. In even more ways than I knew.

I have made her miserable. I have made her cry. I have failed in every duty of a good husband, including the most basic of tasks – I have not given her a child.

I cannot go on like this – trapped in an endless cycle of misery where I can do nothing but hurt the both of us. I must do something to free us from this.

It doesn’t matter if she doesn’t love or even like me. I just want her to be happy. If that means that I never get to see her or love her again, I will make myself accept that.

First, she needs to know why I’ve acted this way. To know my true feelings so she can decide what she wants me to do. Gods, if she wanted me to go to Essos and never return, I would.

A blot of ink covered half the page, as though he had simply set his pen down while he thought.

I know what to do. I just pray she understands.

“I understand,” you said aloud, as though Aemond were before you. But, of course, he wasn’t. He was halfway across the castle, a distance that suddenly felt like the Narrow Sea itself. Throwing down your blanket, you shouted for your maids to dress you at once, your morning meal be damned. The moment finished tying off the last lace of your gown, you ran.

You had only been shown where Aemond’s chambers were once – on your first tour of the Holdfast. Then, you did not know whether to be disappointed or thankful that they were far from yours. Now, as your nervousness flooded through every part of your body, you hated the distance more than anything.

Each step was an effort, as with every one, your legs felt heavier and heavier, as if they were made of iron. Your blood felt as though it was rushing dangerously fast, carrying with it a marked chill. Despite feeling frozen within, sweat still somehow beaded at your brow. Yet you could not wipe it away, for your hands were all but stitched to the two diaries you carried.

Was this a terrible idea? Would Aemond laugh at you for all your silly little notes? Would he be angry with you for taking days to fulfil his request? You came to a halt in the middle of the corridor, tears prickling in your eyes as you considered so many horrible possibilities.

No, you thought, the word echoed by the impact of your foot on stone as you took a heavy, sure step forward.

The Aemond you thought you knew would do those things. But that Aemond wasn’t real – and never was. He had only ever lived in your terrified imagination.

The real Aemond was the one who had been so awestruck upon first seeing you that he could not say anything other than your name. Who had fallen for you so quickly and with such intensity that he forgot how to act like a proper person and instead stumbled over his words and actions like a drunk man through a crowded alley. Who had been so desperate for you to return his affections that he swallowed his pride to seek help. And who had finally given you his diary when he could think of no other way to show you how he really felt and who he truly was.

It was the thought of finally meeting that Aemond that made you put one foot in front of the other, faster and faster, until you were sprinting down the halls, only stopping when you came to the door you had seen only once before – his door.

You did not understand how you had found it again after only seeing it only once before. Nor did you remember knocking on the smooth, dark wood.

But then you heard footsteps approaching.

Hastily, you transferred the diaries to one hand and wiped the sweat from your brow with the sleeve of the other. You wanted to straighten your hair, for it had surely come loose from its braid after running so fast. But there was no time for that.

There was the dull, metallic sound of the door being unlatched, and then there he was.

Aemond stood before you, breathing heavily himself as though he, too, had been running. His silver hair was mussed, and there were smudges of purple beneath his widened eyes – his eyes.

He was not wearing his eyepatch.

Your mouth fell open at the sight. At least one of the rumours had been true. Beneath the raised, rough skin of his scar, in place of his lost eye, was a brilliant blue sapphire. It suited him perfectly and was perhaps the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

He looked at you for a moment, the corners of his mouth lifting in a hesitant smile before realising what had caught your attention so thoroughly.

“Oh gods,” he whispered, covering the sapphire with his hands and turning away. He took a few steps into the room before speaking again. “I did not mean for you to see this. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. Please…”

You said nothing. Silently, you moved into the room and shut the door. Aemond stared at you, his good eye watering as you approached him.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again. “You should not have had to – ” He startled when you brought your free hand up to his wrist and started trying to tug his hand away from his face. “What are you…?”

When your only response was to continue tugging, he relented, allowing you to lower his hand. He swallowed thickly, fixing his good eye on the wall behind you instead of at you. Seeing his shyness, and now knowing it for what it was, almost made you smile.

But your own shyness took hold of you as you guided his hand down and wrapped it around the spines of the twin journals you held. When you looked back up at Aemond, he was staring at them and the green ribbon that now marked a page within your diary.

“I don’t understand,” he breathed, tightening his hold on the books.

With a slight smirk, you gazed up at him and dropped your hand from the diaries. “It’s your turn.”

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teratophilia · 14 days

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NPD tags are filled to the brim with people repeating the mantra of "narc abuse" not being real and while it's true, it isn't real, we've gotta focus on offering actual help to pwNPD. Destigmatizing NPD is great but let's talk about how to fucking handle it too.

With that being said, here's my contribution on how to prevent/lower the likelihood of a narc crash:

Journal or tell your closest ones about your emotions, even if they feel miniscule. Every negative emotion counts. This might seem obvious but pwNPD are very prone to ignoring our emotions in favor of getting supply. Look, I know you "can handle it" and "only weak people have emotions" but you're a person and you have fucking emotions. It's more embarrassing to handle the post-effects of your crash than to try to prevent it, trust me.

After a crash happens, reflect on what actually caused the feeling of insecurity/distress that led to it. Sometimes it's other people, unfair criticism, or both plus our inherent feeling of needing to match a social standard. Try to figure out what caused it and either distance from the trigger or find a way to limit its access to you. Maybe next time, you will be more prepared for the oncoming emotional flow.

Limit who can criticize you. I guess it's harder for those of us with public pages online but actually limit who the hell has a right to critique you. Not everyone is a good critic. Some people will tell you shit just to upset you. Sometimes people won't be obligated to give you any attention at all. It fucking sucks but limiting the number of people who have the RIGHT to affect you might help. For me, it was a rule: What I think and what my FP think matters, everyone else can disappear.

Find means of reminding yourself how great you are. Do you need to admire yourself in the mirror? Reread that sexy post you made? Look at your art again? Check the notes on your favorite aesthetic post? Do you need to reflect on how many people have admired you over lifetime or, maybe, how many compliments you heard last time you did XYZ? Be fucking vain.

Overall, narc crash isn't something that one can entirely predict or prevent, but it's how we react to it that matters. Warning your loved ones that you require attention/supply, taking care of your damn body so you don't overexert yourself for others, and being mindful of your own emotional reactions might help.

Not everyone is going to have the mental capacity to stop themselves from overreacting/communicating poorly, but as long as you learn from your past mistakes you should be fine. Good luck.

P. S. I hope you're all big boys and know I do not mean this to be some sort of universal advice. It helped me, and maybe it will help you too.

#𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐖: 📡#npd #actually npd #actually narcissistic #narcissistic personality disorder #narc safe #npd safe #npd advice

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luveline · 6 months

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I love the KBD universe 🩵🩵. It’s so soft and comforting. Idk how you always write such gentle slice of life moments that stay soft even when there’s moments of conflict.

I was rereading the series, and in one scene Steve asks reader if they wanna make out, but Avery comes in before they can. Can I request a scene where they do get to make out (nothing super spicy) and spend that time with each other? I know it’s got to be difficult with four kids.

kisses before dinner —you and Steve languish in some rare alone time. mom!reader, 1k

"Hello," you whisper.

He looks up in surprise, eyebrows lifted. That surprise quickly melds to a soft-boned happiness as you sit in his lap —he's splayed sideways on the armchair, and you have to sit sort of sideways on him to meet his eyes.

"Everybody's sleeping," you say, brushing a stray strand of hair from his eyes as the TV light paints him a blur of multicolour. "Even Wren."

He looks up. "How'd you do that?"

You told him to relax for a bit before bath time. He must've gotten distracted by the TV, which he doesn't often get to watch lately, and so you hadn't really minded. Full time childcare is exhausting. It comes to something when you're nearly happy to go to work, though coming home every night is still what you wait for, and it's thanks to him that you can drive home in excitement.

"I'm multi-talented." You nestle your way under his chin, his arms curling around you as though they have a job to do. Firm. Immediate. "Wren went down like a miracle. I only had to rub her back."

"Avery?" Steve asks.

Avery's under the weather, so you let her skip bath time and tucked her in, sending her to sleep with little more than a forehead kiss. Beth was similarly eager for bed, knocking out after half of a story, her hand insistently in yours. Dove, in contrast, took three times as long to settle, but was convinced by the pad of your pinky finger as it traced up and down the bridge of her nose.

"Tactile creatures, your girls," you murmur.

"Where do they get it from?" he asks as he begins to stroke a quarter circle into your back. "Tokyo Olympics called again. Team USA needs you on their roster."

He's declaring you impressive for such a feat as tonight's solo bed time. "The answer's still no. I don't think anyone wants to see me in a leotard."

"I do," he says, kissing the top of your head. His lips soft, his voice the same, he hugs you closer still. "I so do. You look nice in everything."

You could fall asleep like this, in his arms, his lap, your face drifting down his chest as you curl into his warmth. There's nowhere else you'd rather be (besides possibly bed, but even then you'd need it to be with him). "Thanks, Steve."

"You're welcome."

The room is quiet. The house stirs and rain lashes the darkened windows every now and then with the indecisive winds, whistling through tree branches far away. You shiver at the sound and Steve sets your goosebumps right with bigger strokes of his hand, a familiar up and down pressed into your back. Pressure to distract the senses.

"Thanks for doing bed time."

You wave it away. It's nice to be appreciated, but in the face of everything he does you don't want any thank yous tonight. "I just wanted to spend some time with you."

"Yeah?" he asks, sinking lower into the armchair, the majority of your weight following down onto his abdomen rather than his legs.

"I really…" missed isn't the right word. You missed him while you were at work, and time spent with him and the girls is just as worthy and sweet as time alone, but that doesn't mean you can't want both. "I've been thinking about you."

Steve doesn't flinch at your odd wording, the opposite. He knuckles trail loosely to the small of your back, a smugness to the curve of his lips as he smiles, and says, "I've been thinking about you."

Steve usually looks handsome. You've seen him bedraggled, dishevelled, and exhausted, of course, but he puts a majesty into nearly everything he does. He can take a plate down from one of the kitchen cabinets or hike one of your sweethearts onto his hip and you'll remark to yourself about how pretty he looks. This isn't taking into consideration how attractive you find his heart (that list is endless —compassion, dedication, loyalty, etc). The stuff you love about Steve goes on and on and on.

You curl a hand behind his head and card through his hair, not sure what to say. His eyes meet yours. "They don't have a word for how much I love you, H."

His voice rasps with a low pleasure, "I could think of a bunch for you. Only if you want. I'm smart like that."

Your lips twitch. "Please," you say, giving his scalp a playful scratch.

"Endlessly," he begins. "Eternally. Overflowingly." He leans forward to touch your noses together. "Fuck," —he laughs as he searches for another— "started so strong. Uh… infinitely. A whole fucking lot?"

"Loads."

You both laugh, the heat of the others breath like a phantom of a kiss between you.

"Loads," he agrees. "Wickedly."

"Deviously?"

"Ambitiously. A shit ton."

You kiss him gingerly, not worried he won't kiss back but wanting to stay in this moment for as long as you can. "Love you loads," you say against his lips.

With your eyes closed you can't see his expression, but you can guess at what he's doing. Steve likely has his brows sewn together, a grimace on his lips that might suggest the opposite of what he's feeling.

He acts like kissing you is the only thing that he could ever need, that this intermission is painful but absolutely necessary. "I love you," he says. He whispers your name, raising his hand to cup your cheek. His marriage finger rubs a mindless little shape into the soft skin under your eye. "I love you."

You wrap your arms around his neck and hook him closer, smiling into a second and much less ginger kiss.

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pedropascallme · 1 year

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I’ll Always Come Back

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader; no use of y/n

Summary: “The bed in the house you shared wasn’t all that large, but without Joel in it you felt completely dwarfed. It was like the mattress was swallowing you whole without Joel to anchor you to his broad shoulders and wide chest.”

Warnings: Smut (18+ MINORS DNI), dom/sub dynamics (dom!Joel x sub!Reader), fingering, oral (M & F receiving), p in v sex, praise kink, daddy kink. If I missed anything please let me know!

~~~

Summer in Jackson was a mixed bag. On the one hand, the warm weather made it much more encouraging to tend to your day-to-day activities; you could clean up around the house, sing along to the radio Joel had fixed up while you rearranged the cabin you had been gifted. You could go out and mingle without the need to put on layers and layers of clothing. And the plants—God, the plants! Things were growing, summer meant fresh greens and tending to your little plot of garden.

On the other hand, summer in Jackson meant extended patrols; the warm weather encouraged raiders to branch out further, to attempt riskier and riskier maneuvers. You never felt scared, why should stuff like that scare you after everything you had been through with Joel and Ellie? But what did get to you was the fact that Joel’s patrols were getting longer as the warm June days arrived.

Ultimately, things weren’t much different. You and Ellie and Joel still had time together and time apart, but it drove you nearly insane when you had to get into bed without him, wake up without him. The bed in the house you shared wasn’t all that large, but without Joel in it you felt completely dwarfed. It was like the mattress was swallowing you whole without Joel to anchor you to his broad shoulders and wide chest.

Today had consisted of next to nothing. Ellie had shouted at you while you were still half asleep, saying something along the lines of “Dina” and “movie night” and “back tomorrow, maybe!” You had offered a lazy “mmff” in response. And then you heard the door slam. You tried your best to spend the day doing something—anything—productive. Go for a walk, clean the kitchen, weed the garden. In the end, though, you had found yourself letting yet another day slip by completely wasted. Maybe not completely: You had found the copy of The Catcher in the Rye that you had picked up somewhere along your journey with Joel and Ellie.

You remembered how much you had loved the cover when you first read the book—you must’ve been 14 or 15, if even. The red carousel horse that looked so…messy and unhinged. That might’ve been what initially drew you to the book in the first place, not to judge a book by its cover or anything, but it just looked so promising. When you reread it, you found yourself comparing Holden Caulfield to one Joel Miller; the character’s intensity, his need to isolate himself in order to protect himself and everybody else, his crippling losses. It was all Joel. So maybe, in the back of your mind, you had really just started skimming through it today to remind yourself of the growth you had seen Joel go through in your time together. He was so closed off, so hesitant when you had first joined him and Ellie. Of course, the biggest difference between the real life and the literary was Joel’s ability to grow, to open up and remember how to feel; Holden never really got that sort of closure.

After hours and hours of reading and reminiscing, the sun had finally started to go down. You prepared yourself for another night alone in the house. You were happy Ellie had the ability to go out and spend her time with people she loved, but when Joel was out for so long, you couldn’t help but feel jealous. Jealous and lonely. But you were a big girl, and you could handle it. Even if you hated it. You changed out of your denim shorts and took off the tank top that was now fairly sweaty, opting to sleep naked. Might as well if nobody is going to see you, anyway. You curled up under the bedsheet, not bothering to sleep under the comforter, it was entirely too hot for that. You fell asleep far quicker than anticipated.

You woke with a start when you felt a hand wrap around your midriff, a voice in your ear drawling “g’night, darlin’.” Dazed, you turned yourself over to face the direction of the voice.

Joel was home.

Nothing could’ve snapped you out of your groggy state faster than the excitement of seeing him again after so long. Really, it hadn’t been long at all, but it was always such a relief having him back next to you. You clung to him, reacquainting yourself with his smell and the feel of him. Just as quickly, though, you pushed yourself up and off of him.

“You’re dirty.”

“Missed you too, sweetheart.” He pulled you back down to him, caging you in with his arms. “Don’t’cha like dirty, baby?” He laughed while you tried to wriggle yourself out of his hold.

“Like it when it’s how you’re acting, not when you’re literally caked in dirt.” You faked outrage, hitting his chest softly.

“C’mon, know you like seein’ me this way.”

And he was right, obviously. You loved seeing his hair pushed back with sweat, feeling his calloused hands against your bare back, tracing his collarbones and feeling the gravelly remnants of dirt.

“You had a good patrol, then?” You asked, finally letting yourself fall atop him, truly not caring about the dirt and sweat.

“It was alright. Uneventful. Fuckin’ hot out there, though.”

“Maybe it’s time to start wearing shorts, cowboy.”

“Yeah, that’s what everybody wants to see. My old man knees shinin’ out in the sun.”

You giggled. He traced his hands down your naked body, letting himself feel every dimple and curve.

“You got th’right idea. Nothin’ like comin’ in from the heat to see my baby stripped down for me. Should probably start doin’ the same whenever I can.” He squeezed your ass roughly, forcing a moan from your lips.

“C-can’t just walk around the commune naked, Joel. At least put some rips in your pants.”

“Mm, why walk around the commune in jeans when I could strip down with you at home, darlin’?” He delivered a smack to your ass, making you gasp. “Could just stay here all day ‘nd play with you. Make me sweat, keep me cool.” He quirked an eyebrow, tongue wetting his bottom lip before he brought your face to his with both his hands.

He tasted perfect, like the cigarettes he and Tommy swore they weren’t smoking, like whiskey, like mint, like black coffee. He licked at your bottom lip, encouraging you to open your mouth and let his tongue in. You felt him sweep the inside of your mouth, spit mingling and teeth clacking together as the kiss intensified. Without separating himself from you, Joel sat up, grabbing you by the hair and biting your bottom lip.

“Gonna be good f’me?” He still had you by the hair as he started to undo his belt. “Gonna show daddy what you missed so much while I was gone?”

“Wanna show you, please Joel.”

He pulled your hair tighter into his fist, and you let out a high pitched sound.

“You can do better than that, baby. Try again.”

“Please daddy, I wanna show you what I missed!”

“Atta girl.”

He pulled his belt from the loops on his jeans in one swift motion, undoing his button and fly just as fast. You could see the bulge that had grown in his jeans, and your mouth watered at the sight.

“You wanna be good?” Joel pulled your head back so that you were looking into his eyes. “You gotta work for what you want, baby. You know that.” He laughed when your hands flew to his crotch, shoving the denim down his hips and doing the same to the boxers he was wearing. You took his hard length in your hands; no matter how long you had been together, no matter how many times he let you have it, you were consistently amazed by how big he was. He was long, thick, heavy in your hands, and it just spurred you on further to show him how good you could be.

“Spit.” He still had a fist in your hair, and he held you above the tip of his cock. You did as you were told, letting your spit drip from his tip, down his shaft. He made you repeat the action once more before letting you move your hands.

“Good girl, jerkin’ daddy off so good.” He groaned when you dropped a hand to his balls, your other hand working his full length. His back arched slightly when you gave his balls a squeeze, moving your hand to focus on the head of his cock. He released you from his grip.

“Open your mouth, baby, give your daddy a show, huh?” You jumped at the chance, shuffling down his body and lowering your face between his hips. You kept one hand working up and down his shaft and took as much as you could in your mouth, flicking your tongue against his most sensitive spots.

“Fuck, good girl. Gonna make me cum if you keep going like that. Fuck!” You took his rambling as an opportunity to take as much of him as you could down your throat. Suddenly, his hand was back in your hair, pulling you off of him. A string of your saliva kept you connected to his cock, dripping from your puffy lips.

Joel brought your face back up to his, catching you in a heated kiss. You felt him bite your bottom lip, your own tongue tasting the inside of his mouth. He broke away for just long enough to flip you onto your back. He stood over you, pulling his jeans off completely and staring down at you hungrily.

“Y’out here sayin’ you don’t like dirty. You got such a mouth on you, baby, y’know it’s not good to go ‘round lyin’.” He pulled you towards him by your ankles, letting your legs fall over the edge of the bed before he kneeled in front of you and hiked them up on his shoulders. “See how I know you were lyin’?” He wasted no time showing you, pushing a thick finger into your cunt. “Drippin’ baby, fuckin’ soaked. S’all for daddy, isn’t it, sweetheart?” You moaned at the sudden intrusion. Just one of Joel’s fingers was enough to make you lose control completely. He twisted it inside you, pumping in and out slowly.

“Tell me it’s for daddy.”

“I—it’s all for, it’s all f—for daddy!” You gasped when you felt another one of his fingers exploring your slit, using your wet to force itself in beside his other finger.

“S’what I thought.” He curled his fingers, bringing his mouth down to your clit and sucking hard. You let out a scream of his name. He only sucked harder, letting the bundle of nerves go with a pop.

“Cum on my fingers, baby. C’mon now, give it to me.” You felt his fingers, still curled, start rubbing against the spongy spot inside of you. Your walls began to clench around his fingers, his mouth once again finding a pace on your clit. You came around his fingers with a jumbled mixture of gasps and screams, barely registering how he talked you through it.

“Good fuckin’ girl, that’s it. Yeah, show daddy what a good girl you are.” Joel placed another kiss on your clit, slowly slipping his fingers out of you. Though your mind was still foggy from the orgasm he had just given you, you whined at the sudden emptiness. When he stood above you again, you reached your arms up for him. He smiled down at you, bending over to kiss your forehead and then your lips.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, not done yet.” He straightened himself out a little, placing a knee on the bed next to you. You reached out to brush your fingers over his thigh. God, he was so muscular. You suppose, for all the walking he did, he should be, but still. Your legs were once again over his shoulders, now above you as he loomed over your naked figure. He took his cock in his hand, stroking himself as he lined himself up with your still dripping slit.

“Daddy’s gonna give you more baby, don’t worry.” You felt the tip of his cock nudge your clit before he lowered himself into your pussy. You both groaned at the contact; the squeeze of your cunt around his thick cock felt like heaven for each of you.

Once fully inside of you, Joel dropped the leg that had bed resting on the bed back to the ground, and pressed his body to yours, chest to chest. He pulled out till just his head was still resting in your pussy, before snapping his hips forward, shoving himself completely back into you, punching the air from your lungs.

“Missed this pussy,” he breathed out shakily, keeping a harsh pace, “missed feelin’ your tight fuckin’ cunt wrap around me like this.”

“Missed you so much, missed daddy’s cock—fuck!” He had your arms above your head now, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples and slowing his strokes slightly, continuing to fuck you deep. You rubbed your hips into his own, desperate for as much friction as you could get. He felt you bucking your hips, laughing at your desperation.

“Poor lil’ baby, such a needy fuckin’ pussy.”

“Dadd—y, need it!”

“Watch your mouth, darlin’, I’m givin’ it to you, ain’t I? Remember who you’re speakin’ to,” he sped up his thrusts, making your tits bounce while you lay back taking it. “Need some fuckin’ manners, baby.”

“I—fuck!—Please daddy, need to cu—m on your cock. Please!” You were begging, he had you exactly where he wanted you. Fucked out and messy, your hair sticking to your forehead and your slick dripping down his cock to your thighs. He loved when you got desperate. Fuck, he had missed you. He had been gone two, maybe three days, and all he could think about was coming home to you. One of his hands came down between your legs, fingers attaching to your clit. You arched your back, moaning, inviting him to touch you where you needed him most. He massaged your bud in tight, neat circles, his fingers moving faster than his thrusts.

He was fucking merciless.

“Can feel that pussy getting’ tighter on me. Y’gonna cum for me again, baby? Gonna cover daddy’s cock in your pretty fuckin’ juices?” His thrusts were beginning to speed up, and within a few more seconds of him fucking you senseless and talking you up (“Good girl, good girl gonna soak daddy’s big cock. That’s right, beautiful, make a fuckin’ mess on me.”) you were cumming hard around him. You grabbed at him, pulling him down onto you while he continued to push his cock deeper into you.

“That’s right, my fuckin’ girl. So good baby, tha’s it.” You scratched your nails down his back, legs shaking as you wrapped them around him. His thrusts became sloppy, nearing his high. You took it upon yourself to gain back a teeny bit of control.

“Cum, daddy, please. Want you to fill me up, want daddy’s cum.” He growled in your ear, fucking into you harder.

“Yeah? Want daddy to full this cunt with my fuckin’ load, baby?”

“Please, yes please,” you begged, still trembling from your own high.

“Gonna give it to you, sweetheart, gonna—shit, gonna fill you up so nice and deep—” He cut himself off with a deep thrust and a loud groan. You felt the warm spurts of his cum deep inside you, moaning at the sensation. He moaned, dropping himself down onto you. You stayed like that for as long as you could; his cock softening inside you, his full body weight pressing you into the springs of the old mattress, your breathing heavy. It was perfect.

“I missed you so much,” Joel panted out, still catching his breath. “M’sorry for comin’ home dirty. ‘Nd late.” He pushed himself up off of you, now mostly-soft cock sliding out of you, turning to lie on his back. You crawled up to him, lying on your side as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. You could feel his cum and yours dripping down the curve of your thigh and onto the mattress.

“You know I don’t mind. I know you’re out there keeping us all safe. You’re good at it.” You kissed his jawline. “Plus, means I get to welcome you back like this.” He smiled, letting you continue trailing kisses wherever you could reach.

“Just hate leavin’ you.”

“I know you’ll always come back home to me.”

He looked down at you, still smiling. You’ll never get used to seeing Joel Miller smile, but you’ll always love how he looked doing it. He kissed your forehead, pushing the hair out of your face before taking your chin in his hand and leaning you up to kiss him.

“I’ll always come back.”

#Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #Joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us #tlou #the last of us smut #tlou smut #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction

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cowgurrrl · 2 months

Text

Sleeping on the Blacktop

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author's note: guys we did it i wrote smut i actually like (ps this was edited but also not reread because I’ve been trying to write it for five hours so if you see any mistakes no you didn’t)

Summary: The Land of No Return [4.7k]

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION, platonic expressions of love, the mortifying ordeal of being known, sexting, we finally get to know about reader's secret tattoos, smut, Joel the Menace makes his long awaited return with that dirty fucking mouth, mutual masturbation, phone sex (??(sure)), protected sex (no Miller babies for them) p in v stuff, June being indulgent with describing Joel Miller, anxiety, I think that's it??

Music floods the kitchen as you and Andie work on making the best "last supper but with women" possible. The lamps glow orange on the walls and create funny shadows when you dance together, pulling each other in and out to old jazzy tunes. You laugh when she throws a string of spaghetti at your fridge to test if it's ready a little too hard, and it splatters water everywhere. You, honestly, might be a little delirious. You're both in your pajamas, and you've been watching movies all day. You exchange what you remember from New Year's Eve and cringe at what the other fills in. You drink cheap wine from plastic cups and snack on chips as the food cooks.

It feels like high school again, with all the girlish giggling and inside jokes you trade back and forth, except this time, instead of her going back to her house ten minutes up the road, she's going back to her apartment half the world away. No matter how long you get with her, it's never enough. Thousands of miles and different schedules will do that. Keeping long-distance friendships as an adult is just as hard, if not harder, than making new ones.

When dinner is ready, you fix your plates and sit next to each other at your messy dining room table— the IKEA one she helped you build when Henry walked out with the first one— and eat. Paint stains the wood of the table, and half-finished works are scattered around the dining room, but you barely notice them as you talk. She tells you about the things waiting for her in Vienna: work, her cat, Oslo, and piano lessons. You don't have to pretend to be envious because you are. You have to go back to school and the Real World once you drop her off at the airport in the morning. You wish you could go with her.

"Alright, c'mon. Spill it. What's going on with you and Joel?" She asks in between bites of garlic bread. You laugh and shake your head.

"There's nothing to tell."

"Bullshit. Tommy told me he saw you guys."

"Speaking of Tommy," you pivot. "What's going on there? You two seemed pretty chummy." You raise your eyebrows at her, and a big smile takes over her face. She takes another bite of food to buy herself some time, but there's no way you're letting her off the hook, especially after all her teasing about Joel.

"Nothing. We were just… talking." She finally says, and you give her a look.

"Talking?"

"Yes. People talk. You should try it sometime."

"Was it talking like we are now or talking like Joel and I talked?" You hum, and she kicks her feet as she leans forward.

"So you and Joel did talk."

"Well, we probably would've if somebody didn't come barging in."

"Goddammit, I told him to wait," she groans. "Sorry, girl."

"Yeah, me too," you say, and she laughs. You bump her knee and give her a look. "Alright, your turn. What's going on with Tommy?"

"Nothing that could actually turn into anything."

"Aw, c'mon. Don't count yourself out so early."

"It's not counting myself out. It's being realistic. I live in Vienna. He lives here. I'm not ready to come back to the States, and he seems content, so there's nothing that can happen," she shrugs. "It was a fling. A very nice fling, but a fling nevertheless." She seems a little too sad for it to have been just a fling. They exchanged numbers, and you've caught her texting him several times. She said she did kiss him on New Year's Eve (before she threw up), but they didn't go any further besides flirting the next morning. You watched them test each other at breakfast, and he seemed just as interested in her as she was in him. They'd be cute together. She sighs and pushes her pasta around in her bowl like a dejected character from a period piece.

"Tommy is very handsome." You comment, and she grabs your arm, animating all of a sudden.

"Dude, I've been dying to talk about it. What the fuck are they putting in the water here? It's insane."

"It's annoying, right?"

"So annoying." She agrees. You laugh about it together and, finally, give her the details she's been waiting so patiently for. When you finish your story, her hands are over her mouth, and her eyes are wide. "Oh, my God. You have to get him back."

"I know, I know! He's driving me up a fucking wall." You say, taking a bite of food. It will get cold if you don't stop talking, but you also don't care.

"You could surprise him with some lingerie or something." She suggests, and you groan.

"God, I don't even remember the last time I bought lingerie."

"All the more reason to buy some."

"I don't know. I feel like I could just show up naked, and he'd be happy with that."

"He sounds like a keeper then."

"Yeah, I don't know," you shrug. "I like him a lot. I just… don't know if it's sustainable."

"Why?" She asks. You almost want to gesture around your messy apartment and half-put together life as if it will answer her question.

"I mean, he's a good guy, and we're having fun, but for how long? His kid's gonna be in at least one of my classes until she graduates. Not to mention, he has another daughter who is in medical school. We both work full-time. And then there's the whole having to keep it a secret thing. It could get really old really fast." You sigh.

"What if it doesn't?"

"What?"

"What if it doesn't get old? What if it ends up working out?" She asks. You take a deep breath. "You didn't even think about that possibility. Did you?"

"I just don't wanna get hurt."

"That's a very real possibility. Things could go wrong. He could break your heart. You could lose your job. Society as we know it could come crashing down, and you know what? The sun's still gonna come up the next day. The birds will still sing, and I will still be here," she says, putting her hand over yours. You purse your lips as you process her words. "You deserve nice things, kid. Don't count yourself out so early." She echoes your earlier sentiment, and you smile.

She's right. Of course, she's right. You don't let yourself think good things could happen because you're so focused on all the bad. She's known you for so long she can read your thoughts and know your habits before you can. What a horrifying and beautiful thing it is to be known inside and out like that.

"Maybe you should've been a writer instead of a musician," you say, and she laughs. You squeeze her hand and sigh as you look at her. "I'm really gonna miss you."

"I'm really gonna miss you, too."

"I wish you could stay."

"I know," she says. "But you need an excuse to come to Vienna, and I need an excuse to come to Austin, and if I stay, we lose that."

"I guess that's true."

"Besides, if I stop making trans-Atlantic calls, I think my phone company would be concerned." She points out, making you laugh. You know she's telling you what she's told herself this whole time. She loves Vienna, but you know she gets homesick. You know she's trying really hard to convince herself to get back on that plane. You don't push her about staying again. You just indulge in her presence.

"I love you." You say softly, and she smiles.

"I love you, too." She says.

It means so much more than just "I love you." It means, "I love you, and I want us both to eat well." It means, "I love you, and I can't imagine doing this life without you." It means, "I love you, and I know you have to go." Never any buts. Always ands, because love like this knows no bounds. Not borders, not time zones, not lifestyles.

You finish the dinner you made and clean the kitchen side by side before climbing into bed and staying up as late as possible to try and get Andie back on Vienna time. In the morning, you drag yourselves out of bed and sing in the car on the way to get coffee, and when the time comes for you to get her suitcase out of your backseat and watch her disappear behind glass doors, you hug her tight and tell her you love her again. She repeats the sentiment with another squeeze and deep breath that tells you how close to tears she is. Then, she turns around and doesn't look back to prove she's strong enough to leave. She doesn't need to prove anything to you. You always knew she was strong enough to do this.

The car ride back is emotional and lonely and tinged with the bass line of Ribs by Lorde, but your phone buzzes as you pull back into your apartment complex with tears staining your cheeks.

Thanks for letting us meet Andie. She's a really sweet person. I'm sorry she has to leave today.

You don't remember telling him what day she was leaving, but she might've told Tommy, and Tommy told Joel. You smile and text him back.

Thanks for taking care of us. She only had good things to say about you and Tommy. We'll have to all hang out again the next time she's home.

And then.

Thanks for checking on me. I really appreciate it.

Of course. I'm always a wreck when I have to drop Sarah off at the airport. I'm around if you wanna talk. Ellie's hanging out with some friends, and Tommy's on-site today.

You stare at the messages and debate your options. He basically just told you he's home alone and has nothing to do for the rest of the day. And yes, he is probably being sweet and really offering to talk if you're feeling lonely, but you also know how talking usually goes for you two. You smirk as you type out a message.

Just talk?

It seems like he can't type fast enough.

What else would you wanna do?

I think you made some promises you need to follow through on, Miller.

I guess I did.

Come over and I can do just that.

Actually, I have some work to get done :( maybe next time?

You lock your phone and bound up to your apartment, conscious of the sudden lengthening of time between messages. It's fun to imagine him trying to come up with a response that respects your boundaries but also lets you know how needy he is. He may have started this little game, but you're gonna be the one to perfect it. Thus begins the days upon days of not sexting, but not not sexting.

At first, it's just messages about how you miss him and wish he was around. He tries to find an excuse to come over, but you effectively cockblock him at every turn. Your response times get a little slower the more worked up he gets, so he has to figure it out on his own. You never would've thought Joel Miller, a man with gray in his beard and wrinkles lining his face, could be such a fast texter, but you figure there's nothing more desperate than a horny man.

Messages quickly escalate to pictures. They start off innocent enough: a picture of the painting you're working on, but your bare legs give away the fact that you're not wearing pants, a picture of him stepping out of a hot shower, his bare chest slightly red and glistening from the water, a picture of you wearing the burnt orange shirt he sent you home in New Year's Day with no bra on underneath. Then, you get a little bolder. After a quick trip to the mall, you pose in front of the mirror in a short delicate white night down with pretty lace details on the top, the hem barely hitting the tops of your thighs and showing off the large tattoos hiding there. You look hot, and imagining Joel's reaction to you makes you flush and rub your thighs together to get some relief.

It's true that Joel would've been happy if you showed up to his house wearing (or not wearing) anything, but when the photo pings to his phone, he's never been more grateful for Victoria's Secret in his life. His breath hitches in his throat, and he quickly tucks his phone into his chest like someone is gonna come up behind him and see what he's looking at. He's barely glanced at the photo and he's already straining in his jeans.

Goddamn, he texts back. You're so fucking pretty, baby.

You like it?

It's a dumb question, but you really don't care.

It's perfect.

What do you like about it?

Besides the fact that you're the one wearing it? I like that it makes you look like more of an angel than you already are, and I like that I can finally see those tattoos you've been hiding from me.

Bingo, you think to yourself. He was able to catch glimpses of the large pieces hiding on your back and shoulders at the art gallery, and when he picked up on New Year's Eve, you caught him staring at them each time. You thought he was following the inky lines up your body, but you couldn't be sure. Now, he's giving himself away, and you're practically buzzing with excitement.

You turn around in the mirror and arch your back, perfectly showing off your ass and the intricate tattoo lining your spine, and snap a picture. It's one of the largest ones you have, and it's also the easiest to hide. Besides, you definitely didn't get it for your own enjoyment. You live for moments like this. You send him the picture and smile as you type.

Like this one?

Your phone rings not even two minutes after he reads the message. You giggle when he groans into the receiver instead of greeting you.

"You're gonna fuckin' kill me, baby." He says, his voice so deep you can practically feel it rumble against your ear.

"I told you I'd get you back." You say it like it's obvious, but he just hums. There's shuffling on his end, and all you can do is wait for him to say something else.

"What else have you been hidin' underneath all those little dresses, hm?" He asks. "Tattoos. The most fuckin' perfect tits I've ever seen. Anythin' else I should know bout? 'S your pussy as pretty as the rest of ya?" You didn't mean for him to hear you gasp, but he seemed pleased that he could pull such a sound from you without even being in the same room. Just like that, any doubt or reservation you had left flies out the window. You finally cave and slip your hand down your panties to glide your fingers through your folds. "Am I makin' you wet, sweetheart?"

"Fuck," you mumble. It's absurd how turned on you are by this whole thing. Your fingers slowly circle your clit, and your head gets so fuzzy you almost forget to respond to him. "Yes, Joel."

"Are you playin' with yourself?" He asks, and you nod even though he can't see you. "Poor thing. I wish I could be there to help ya. I'd have you spread open for me so I can touch you however I want. Figure out what you like and what makes you cry for me." You put him on speaker and throw your phone down so you can focus on gliding through your wetness, your middle finger pushing into you slowly.

"What... what would you do?" You ask, breathless.

"I'd start by usin' my fingers just to feel you out, and I bet you'd feel so fuckin' good. I'd play with your clit until you're beggin' me to put a finger inside you, and I'd slip two in slowly while kissin' your inner thighs and watchin' you squeeze my fingers," you moan as you listen to his raspy voice and fuck yourself to his words. You try to imagine what his fingers would feel like inside of you. How different compared to yours, how much better they'd feel. Goddammit. "Then, I'd use my mouth on you while my fingers move in and out. I'd lick you all over and feel you soakin' me when I suck on your clit." He says, and you return to rubbing said bundle of nerves, faster this time, as you become acutely aware of his labored breathing over the phone.

Is he touching himself? The idea of him holding the phone with one hand and fisting his cock with the other sends a wave of heat down your spine, and you keen into your own hand. A shaky breath and muttered curse leave his lips, and then you know for sure what he's doing. Your head spins, and you'd be embarrassed by how close you are just from his voice if you weren't entirely focused on the pleasure clouding your brain.

"Fuck, Joel-"

"I know, baby, I know," he coos sympathetically. Another lewd moan leaves you as you get closer and closer to the edge, stars threatening the corners of your vision. "Are you gonna come for me like this?" He asks, and you hum in the affirmative, not trusting yourself to form words. "Come on. Let me hear you. I wanna hear what you sound like when you fall apart." His voice is coming faster and breathier, a light growl at the end of his words. How are you to deny him that?

The speed of your fingers on your clit increases, but it's his own broken whimpers that finally do it. Your back arches as the waves wash over you, and noises you didn't even know you could make escape your lips. You can vaguely hear a broken sigh accentuated by a particularly hot whine from Joel's end. Henry was never as vocal or talkative as Joel is. None of your past partners have been. In the aftershocks of your orgasm, you have a quick passing thought that he might ruin dating for you. You might never want to see anyone else who doesn't treat you like this. You might be fucked.

"Joel," you say when you have control over your thoughts again. He takes a deep breath and clears his throat.

"Yeah?"

"Get the fuck over here now."

Joel's house is on the other side of Austin. With traffic, getting to your apartment can take anywhere from twenty to forty-five minutes, depending on how fast you're willing to go and how many red lights you can pass under. Joel gets there in fifteen. You're still in the flouncy dress you bought specifically to torture him, but by the time you open the door for him, you're much less interested in making his life any more miserable than you already have over the past week.

He doesn't hesitate to charge into your apartment, grab your face, and kiss you like his life depends on it. His tongue sweeps over your bottom lip, and you open to him, clinging to him as his hands move from your face to the backs of your thighs to pick you up. You squeal in surprise and lock your legs around his waist to bring him closer and keep yourself from falling. Even though he obviously came over the phone at the same time you did, he's hard again and pressing against your bare pussy. He hisses when you grind against him, and his jaw clenches as he pulls away like he's in pain.

"Where's your bedroom?" He asks, wide eyes searching the hallway behind you.

"First door on the left." You say as you duck your head to kiss his neck. He sighs and indulges in the feeling of your tongue against his skin before he finally finds his feet and stumbles into your bedroom. You're halfway through marking him before he lays you down and immediately rucks his hands up your thighs, spreading them apart and making you whine.

"You okay?" He asks, stopping all movement to scan over your face for any signs of discomfort. You nod and reach for the buttons of his jeans.

"Yes. Just need you." You say.

"Are you sure?"

"Joel, I just came from the sound of your voice. Yes, I'm fucking sure." You say, a little frenzied as you pull at the hem of his shirt. He laughs as he pulls it over his head and quickly unzips his jeans.

"Feisty."

"Can you blame me?" You ask, and he shakes his head. He tugs his jeans and his briefs down at the same time and unveils all of him to you in one go. He's beautiful. You knew he would be, but seeing the graying chest hairs and the pretty happy trail leading down to his hard cock in between his strong, tan thighs is an entirely different thing. You reach for him, desperate to feel the weight of him in your hands, but he stops you by slipping the tiny straps of your night gown down your arms.

He carefully pulls the fabric down your body until it's pooled next to his clothes on the floor. His eyes fall to the black lines wrapping around your shoulders, and he draws his eyes to your collarbones and sternum, his breathing stuttering at the sight of you laid out under him.

"So much prettier than I imagined." He murmurs as he ducks his head to kiss the valley between your breasts. You smile and run your hands through his curls as he mouths at your chest, leaving red marks in his wake and making you press him closer.

"How many times have you thought about this?" You ask. Has he always wanted you in the way you've wanted him? You're almost positive he has. There's no other way to explain the reverence with which he's looking at you. He's so wrapped up in you it's almost suffocating. Every time you glance at his face, he's staring at you with soft eyes and blown pupils.

"Lost count." There it is. The confirmation. You grab at his ribs to bring him closer, pulling him over you to kiss him slow and deep. Despite the heat of him against you and the ache between your thighs, you both take the time to savor it. That is until his overthinking takes over. "I didn't bring a condom. Fuck, I was in a rush. I didn't think." He says quickly, like he's waiting for you to back out or push him away. You bring your thumb up to the worried wrinkle between his eyebrows and smooth it away, kissing his jaw.

"You think I would get you all worked up to not be prepared? C'mon, baby," you turn the nickname around on him, and he leans into your hand like a cat. "Top drawer." You say. He scrambles to your bedside table and grabs the first one he can find as you move onto all fours while he's distracted. You listen for the foil ripping and the subtle sound of the latex fitting over him. You can't stop the smirk from forming when he looks up and sees the sight in front of him.

"Fuckin' Hell," he mutters. Your back is arched perfectly, your hair gathered over your shoulder, and the tattoo you got done so many years ago is on display for him. "You are so goddamn perfect." He says as he presses his chest into your back and kisses your shoulder. He plants a few more kisses across your neck and back, making you wait longer than you already have, and just when you think you're going crazy, he slowly pushes into you and punches all the air from your lungs.

He's big. Bigger than anyone you've been with before, and he seems to know that. He rolls his hips, and you moan, gripping at the sheets under you for stability as you adjust. His breathing is ragged behind you, and he groans when you involuntarily clench around him. "You okay?" He asks, his voice straining. His patience and self-control should be fucking studied.

"Yeah, I'm okay." You assure him, and he nods. He starts to move slowly at first, but when you start whining and shaking under him, he snaps. You're both impatient. Months of following the rules and caring about what other people could think or say tumble out of your heads as he sets a rough pace. You've been dreaming about this and pushing it away since he walked into your classroom that day, and now that it's happening, you can't hide how desperate you are for him. You cry his name as he fucks into you deeply, no part of your bodies not touching, but it's still not close enough.

"You're so fuckin' good for me, baby. Jesus fuck," he moans into your ear, his uneven breaths echoing into your skull. "You feel so good."

He sits back and brings you with him, changing the angle and forcing him deeper inside of you as his hand snakes around your waist and dips to play with your clit. You curse loudly and dig your nails into his forearm as bright pleasure courses through your veins. "'M gonna come if you keep doing that," you warn, your voice high and strained as he adds a little more pressure.

"C'mon, honey, come on my cock for me. Please, I want it." It could be the slight whine in his voice or the fact that he's begging you for it, or the fact that the tight circles he's rubbing into your clit are making you see stars, but you come hard. You rely on him to hold you upright as he fucks you through your high, the slick between your thighs growing as his own orgasm washes over him, and he moans directly in your ear, an unexpected but not unpleasant gift. You think you could get off again just to the sounds he makes when he's coming.

You stay like that for a second, wrapped up in each other and breathing hard with him still inside you, before he finally finds the courage to slip out of you with only a tiny pained moan. He carefully guides you onto your back, your bones jelly, and kisses your cheek before he pads off to the bathroom to throw away the used condom.

It's quiet again in the apartment, but it's not lonely anymore. He makes himself at home in your space, asking if he can get water and snacks from your kitchen and walking around naked as the day he was born. "I wanna make sure you've got enough energy for round two." He says, making you laugh.

"Are you finally gonna make good on your promise to take your time with me?"

"Fuck yeah." He says, coming back to kiss your lips one more time before walking to the kitchen. It's like if he goes a few minutes without tasting you, he can't function, or at least, that's what he makes it seem like. You're more than receptive to the attention and can only watch as he walks around. Your trust in your legs is not strong enough to get up just yet.

In the domestic silence, it would be easy for your mind to run rampant with rogue thoughts and anxieties, but when Joel returns to the bedroom with snacks, bottles of water, and those stupidly sweet eyes, they get pushed to the back burner. He gets under the covers and pulls you into him, his warm body grounding you to this moment and not letting your thoughts stray. He presses kisses to your hair and your face every so often as you talk about everything and nothing.

Somehow, it feels natural, like you've been doing this the whole time or like everything was leading up to this. Maybe it was. Still, you'll need to talk about this. You know you will.

Just... not yet.

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk @d1lf-loverrr @vee-bees-blog @moel-jiller @anoverwhelmingdin @casssiopeia @maried01

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oddheadd · 2 months

Text

Frostbite °• : ⁠｡ - Chapter III

Skinwalker/Wendigo x reader

CW: Gross things like rotting :P

SMUT!! Rough sex, voyerism, non-consentual at the end(?)

I couldn't sleep last night. The screaming kept me awake.

Screaming? It sounded animalistic, the broken voice desperately wheezing and calling for attention. I laid there helplessly, clutching my pillow and worrying about wether I locked my doors or not. I was too scared to check them, so I just kept staring at the curtains, my heart almost popping out of its place as I tried to look away from them.

I couldn't, and at about 5-6 am, when the screaming had stopped, I dozed off. I later woke up at 4 pm, and weirdly enough, I was inspired to write some more. I put my nightly terror into descriptive paragraphs and created a monster.

One with long, grey, skinny limbs and hair thin enough to see it's pure white eyes... Rotten teeth caging the slithering maggots in its hollow mouth.

I take a deep breath and close my laptop. I grab my phone and see that Nathan had texted me last night.

"Do you drink?"

I can't help but smile and instantly start typing.

"after whatever the hell happened last night, I do."

I put my phone away and make myself a quick meal. My phone buzzes.

"And what happned?"

I chuckle at his misspelling.

"I heard someone or something screaming. I couldn't sleep all night :("

He answers quickly;

"Jackals?"

And I answer just as fast.

"Kind of... It had an artificial echo to it? Don't know how to explain."

I purse my lips and put my phone down. Taking a bite out of the poor excuse of a meal.

"You could demonstrate, when I take you to a bar in the town."

Smile grows on my face as I reread his messages. I should go, what's the worst that can happen? So, we text each other the details and it's a date!

I leave the cabin and decide to look around the village this time. Ain't no way I'm going into the forest after last night.

I try my best to remember the way home as I walk past the other cabins. I admire the architecture - simple, but charming nonetheless. Then I spot a girl, no older than nine looking at me through the window. I smile and give her a wave.

She stays still and keeps staring at me. My hand falls back to my side, and so does my smile. I avoid her gaze and keep walking. I take a few pictures and maybe make a few angels in the snow, before I see an old woman, just barely walking. I approach her. - "Hello, want me to walk you home?"

I get a better look at her face. It's wrinkled, as if her skin is melting off her face. Her eyes are marble like, despite being as dark as coals. I can barely make out her lips that stretch into an uncanny line. Her hair as thin as the monster's that I made up.

She looks at me before her face scrunches up, even more, into a scowl. - "...What are you doing here?" - My mood falters.

"...I used to come here as a child... My mother passed and I decided to visit for a while." - I explain myself. She raises an eyebrow and grabs my arm for support.

"(Your mother)'s kid. You've... Changed, quite a bit."

I tilt my head. - "Do I know you?"

"You'd always steal from my brother's cherry trees. You used to be an annoying, little rascal."

I chuckle awkwardly. - "I get that a lot. So you live down the road?"

"You've become... A very appetizing person." - She says, avoiding my question. I try not to think about her weird wording.

"...Thank you?" - I say after a long pause.

"I used to be like you. Maybe my skin was healthier." - She scoffs, bits of her saliva falling out of her mouth. - "...Not fair... At all." - she sighs.

I stay quiet as she rambles, a little more comfortable now that we've approached her cabin.

"But whatever it wants, it gets." - She says. She tightens her grip. - "Count yourself lucky, being able to serve it like that."

After that I head straight to my cabin. I can't wait to drink with Nathan tonight.

Now as I stand in the snow, my ass literally freezing off, I start to feel disappointed. He promised he'd pick me up, but now I'm getting worried he got lost and mauled.

Tiny snowflakes start falling, adding onto the already layered snow that's coating the ground. I sigh and check my phone again. My frown intensifies, when I see there's no new messages.

I almost fall off the bench on the porch when I see a figure in the corner of my eye.

"Jesus, Nathan. Do you always have to scare me like that?" - I rest my palm on my chest, dramatically so.

He flashes me the Cheshire grin - "Sorry."

I get off the porch and shove my hands into my pocket, a wave of disappointment washing over me when the pockets are just as cold.

"I thought the huge deer got to you." - I tease.

He narrows his eyes. - "I'm at the top of the food chain, you don't have to worry about stuff like that." - He brags and gives me his hand. I take it with a snort, his hands as cold as mine. - "I don't think we can make it to the Bar, it's too far away. And, it's getting dark."

I pout. He chuckles. - "But I know how to make it up to you~" - He says and takes out a flask from his coat.

I raise an eyebrow. - "Charming."

I then walk back to the front door of the cabin and unlock it, going inside. - "Come on in, I'm freezing." - I complain and look at him.

He follows after me with a smile and looks around. - "It's pretty cozy in here."

I chuckle and sit him down onto the couch. - "I think we have some old wine in the attic. Try not to miss me too much."

"Don't worry, I'm patient." - he smiles softly.

I turn on the flashlight on my phone after a hard struggle against the attic door, coughing my lungs out when the dust flies around in the air. I climb up and start looking around the boxes for the wine.

I smile when I finally find it. There's two blood red bottles with no distinct label on them, so I pick them up. My smile falls as I see a... Doll? It's made out of straws, clearly resembling a human body. I pick it up and inspect further. Is this a hex? I put it back down and get up, chills running down my spine when I notice a big red symbol on the wall. I stare at it for a while before turning around and leaving with the bottles in my hands.

I have a guest right now, I'll deal with it later.

On my way, I grab go into the kitchen to get glasses.

"I only have mugs and teacups, no fancy glasses." - I say before grabbing the cups and sitting next to him. He throws his arm around my shoulder.

"I don't look like the fancy type though, do I?" - He chuckles and I shrug.

I pour us some wine and sip from my cup. - "So, why did you move here again?"

"Nature always called out to me." - He shrugs. - "And you, Y/N? What's your job and why did you come here?"

I purce my lips. - "Well, I'm a writer. I've written some stuff but nothing special, really. I wanted to write a horror book and came here to set the mood, ya know?"

"And how's that working out?" - He tilts his head.

I sigh. - "I'm having the worst writer's block I've ever had. Barely wrote a few pages."

"Let's see then." - He says, and I hesitantly agree. I grab my laptop and open the file, handing it to him.

I stand up and approach the fireplace, tending to it as he reads for a while.

"It's great." - He smiles and I look back at him.

"Is it?"

"A little complaint... You're trying too hard to explain all the details. Reading is all about letting people warp characters and places into whatever their mind makes up."

"...That makes a lot of sense, actually." - I sit back next to him. - "Can you help me?"

He eyes me and nods.

I don't know how much time passes, but we're now sitting on the floor and already have finished the second bottle of wine, now taking turns on taking a swing out of Nathan's flask. I've been taking notes, typing away furiously.

As I let out a deep breath, I look up from my laptop screen and the whole room starts spinning. I grunt and put the gadget away, placing my head in Nathan's lap. He chuckles and strokes my hair. - "Are you alright?"

"...A little tired. And dizzy." - I pout. Nathan just keeps smiling and sits me up again, making me look at him by taking my chin in-between his fingers.

I keep looking into his eyes and his smile never falters, only getting closer to my own lips. I instinctively close my eyes and part my lips a little, almost melting into Nathan's arms when they connect with his.

My heated cheeks heat up even more when he lays me down onto the soft, warm carpet and lets out a deep groan.

Then I can't even comprehend what happened, when I look to my side and see both mine and his clothes on the floor. Then I feel his erected cock, rubbing against me and realize I'm not wearing any underwear neither. I look back at him and pull him into a kiss again, moaning in delight. He then pushes it inside of me, spreading the walls to make more room for himself and and starts gently grinding it deeper out of me.

I lose track of time and what's happening again, and this time feel him mercilessly thrusting his hips against my ass, almost steaming air of heat spreading into the whole room while his rough fingers caress all the right spots. I let out moans and whimpers in-between my breaths, while he muffles his in my collarbone.

"Don't stop... Fuck, Nathan..." - I moan out his name and he looks up at me.

He then runs his fingers through my hair pulls my head back, giving me a view of the rest of the room, before he buries his face into my neck and leaves a trail of sloppy kisses.

I get closer to cumming, feeling myself spasm and squeeze around him, before I notice something in the windows. There are people outside my cabin... They're chanting something while drawing a symbol on the windows...

It's the same symbol as the one in my attic. I huff and try to stop Nathan but he can't even see my expression with his head buried into my neck. I shut my eyes and try my best not to cry... And soon enough, pass out.

#skinwalker #wendigo #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere smut #monster smut #nonbinary reader #smut #roughfuck

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cl3fairyyy · 2 months

Text

hide and seek || edward nashton / the riddler x fem reader (nsfw !) ⋆｡𖦹°‧★

summary || your sex life recently with edward has been non existent. with him being so focused on his plans for gotham, you have found your needs being neglected. you decide to take initiative and plan a fun game for edward while he's at work.

warnings || SMUT!! there is plot but this is pretty much straight up porn lol. reader and edward role-play a kidnapping scenario but everything is consensual!! slapping, restraints, degradation, light knife play, overstimulation, p in v, pussy eating, choking, hunting(?kind of?), (fake) threats of violence, mentions of stalking, the suit stays ON during sex, some weird purity/ corruption stuff in this idk i think a demon possessed me halfway through writing this. minors please do not interact!!

word count || 4k i did not mean for it to be this long oopsie!!

notes || i haven't written smut in a LONG time so i am so sorry if this is straight up garbage pls go easy on me. recently reread year one and im seriously going insane the hyperfixation is so back guys. i love writing edward so much especially when it comes to writing some nasty porn about him LOL. i srsly had no idea how to end this so its kinda bad sorry D:

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚★⋆｡˚ ⋆ ┊ ┊ ┊ ⋆ ┊ ┊ ★⋆ ┊ ◦ ★⋆ ┊ . ˚ ˚★

In recent months, you have found yourself growing increasingly frustrated. For the longest time, you haven’t had the faintest idea of what has been causing this, and that has caused it to manifest itself in various ways throughout your everyday life. You have found yourself much more easily annoyed by the most minor inconveniences, and have had repeated warnings at work to stop arguing with customers over the pettiest of matters.

One afternoon in late November, whilst attempting to share in your boyfriend’s body heat on the sofa of your freezing living room, watching the news and listening to him ramble about finally ‘revealing the truth,’ it hits you.

Edward hasn’t fucked you in months.

Even before this change, you didn’t have the most active sex life- you were both too busy holding down your day jobs whilst simultaneously investigating the corruption poorly concealed beneath Gotham’s cobbled streets. Still, you’d find the time every other week or so to take care of each other.

You love having sex with Edward; he’s so gentle with you, handling you like a precious gem that will shatter if dropped. He always makes sure your needs are met before he even thinks of himself, worshipping your body with an obsession akin to a deeply faithful Catholic’s love for Christ himself.

But sometimes... it can get boring. Not as boring as not having sex at all, but boring enough that you often find yourself lying awake at night, longing for Edward to keep up his Riddler persona for just a little while longer after he arrives home from doing whatever he does to have the coppery scent of blood soaking into the walls of your small apartment.

You know your frustration will only worsen the longer you go without having sex, so you decide to do a small experiment.

You take the next few days off work, pretending to be sick, and Edward, usually ever attentive to your every need, your Edward, who begins panicking if you all but sniffle the wrong way, barely notices. With your theory proven that his work has been turning him into someone who is evidently not your sweet Edward, you begin doing everything you can for even an ounce of attention from him. You give him shoulder massages after he returns home from a long day at work, cook him his favourite meals, run baths for him, at some point it evolves into you all but throwing yourself at him, and you have to take a step back to reevaluate your approach. Being that desperate for sex is not a good look, especially when your boyfriend is completely oblivious to how horny you are.

You decide you need to formulate a plan to force him to focus on you.

It starts with the lingerie. You scour the shopping apps on your phone for an embarrassingly long time, trying to find something perfect. You eventually come across a pretty lilac set, its sheer mesh bra framed with soft ruffles and feminine frills to accentuate your chest, and immediately order it, even begrudgingly spending a little extra for next day delivery.

The next step of your plan is to come up with a simple puzzle, something stimulating but still to the point- you're so horny that you know the next time you’re in a room with Edward while he still has that Riddler costume on, it’s going to take some real self-restraint to stop yourself from ripping it off him.

The final step of your plan is waiting for the perfect moment to put everything into action. You realise it isn’t the most complicated or glamorous scheme to ever exist, but if it manages to work and allows you to finally get some action, you won’t be complaining.

One evening, when it’s well past 5pm, and definitely well past the time Edward should have been home from the office, you get a text from your beloved.

hi honey, moved tuesday’s plans forward to today. got an opening with savage and cant miss it. will be home late- ill pick up food on my way back. love you.

we’re finally making some REAL change : )

You almost leap out of your chair with excitement, rushing around the apartment to make sure everything is in place for your little game of hide and seek.

When Edward finally returns home, the apartment is dark- it’s well past 11pm, so he figures you’re in bed. He sighs, setting down the takeaway bag on the coffee table and calling out your name, pausing when you don’t answer. You always wait up for him when he’s running his late-night ‘errands.’ When he thinks about it more, he realises you didn’t even text him back earlier this evening; you’ve been sick, too- what if you collapsed, or had complications, or worse?

Before he can begin panicking, he finally notices the lit candle on the kitchen counter. Next to it is a piece of paper, which Edward gingerly picks up with shaking hands, reading the five words scrawled across it.

‘Dear Riddler,

Come find me.’

Confusion clouds Edward’s mind for a moment before he realises that he’s reading your handwriting, and the sweet flowery scent giving him a headache is his favourite perfume of yours. He stands still for a moment, rereading the note as the familiar feeling of want begins to curl in his lower belly. You’ve never actually addressed him as the Riddler before.

He definitely likes it.

You crouch uncomfortably in your hiding space beneath the dining table, straining your ears against the silence of the apartment as you try to gauge how Edward has taken your little game based off his breathing. You hear the rustling of fabric and the sound of something zipping up, and realise he must’ve slipped his jacket and mask back on because his breaths are definitely muffled now.

He begins taking slow, deliberate steps around the apartment, his combat boots loudly thudding on the wooden floorboards as he does so. You suddenly feel very vulnerable in only your undergarments and wonder if this is how his victims must feel, a thrill tingling deliciously up your spine.

You shift a little in your spot, trying to find a way to crouch comfortably while also remaining out of sight. Your heart pounds so hard in anticipation of being spotted that you’re sure Edward can hear it, especially when his footsteps begin to head towards your hiding spot.

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to keep the sound of your breathing to an absolute minimum; the silence in your apartment is deafening and, for the first time in all the years you have known him, you begin to feel almost weary of Edward’s presence. In this moment, you’re not just Edward’s partner.

You’re his prey.

So wrapped up in your own mind, you don’t hear Edward’s footsteps behind you. You feel two strong, gloved hands grab your hips and rip you out of your thoughts. You squeal giddily as Edward throws you onto the wooden dining table, biting your lip to stifle the giggles that threaten to spill out.

Edward looms over you, his glasses glinting in the moonlight that seeps into the apartment through the cracks in the blinds. He is completely silent, save for the heavy breaths muffled by his mask. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and raspy, and the sound of it sends tiny shivers of excitement up your arms.

“I’ve been watching you for so long. Every move you make, I’ve followed from the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to snatch you up. Do you know how hard it’s been? Hearing your pathetic whimpers while you fuck yourself every night, and having to wait until it’s me making you unravel? But now I have you here, all to myself, and no one is around to save you.”

The sight of him like this, so indescribably large compared to you, looking down on you like a lion that has captured its prey and is about to rip it to shreds- it sends sparks of arousal through you that pool in your sheer underwear. You look up at Edward through your eyelashes, smiling innocently.

“Looks like you caught me.”

With that, he drags you up, throwing you over his shoulder as he heads towards your bedroom. Your face burns, unsure of when or how he got so strong, and the anticipation of what he is about to do to you sends tingles of delight down your spine.

Edward throws you carelessly onto the bed before straddling you. He wordlessly grasps your wrists in one gloved hand, holding them above your head while he rips off a piece of duct tape from the roll that dangles from his belt, and binds them together securely. He subtly tilts his head to the side, and you can read him so well at this point that you know he’s asking if your restraints are too tight. You shake your head, and he immediately melts back into character, sweeping his gaze down your exposed body predatorily.

His gloved hands reach forward, roughly groping your breasts, pinching and rolling your clothed nipples between his fingers. You squeak, writhing beneath him, deciding to put on a bit of a show with it.

“P... please, don’t...” you whimper pathetically, bucking your hips into his. You hear him groan under his breath above you, removing one hand from your chest to grip your chin harshly, squishing your cheeks together. “Shut up.” His voice is low and dangerous when he speaks, a complete contrast to the sweet voice Edward usually addresses you with. “You’re trapped here, and no one is coming for you. You can scream as loud as you want, it won’t make a difference.”

“You’re so pitiful, dressed up like one of those whores on the street just to get my attention.” He breathes out slowly, slipping a gloved finger beneath your bra to massage your nipple. “I can’t say it hasn’t worked, but a whore is still a whore. You need to be cleansed, like the rest of the filth in this city, and the only person willing to do that is me. That’s why,” he pauses, the hand gripping your chin roughly yanking your mouth open as he leans over you, pulling up his mask slightly and spitting in your mouth, “you will take everything I give to you like a grateful little bitch.”

He slaps your face, hard enough to sting but not enough to bruise, and you swallow the mixture of your saliva and his. You can’t stop the moan that slips out from between your parted lips, and he locks eyes with you, his pupils blown so wide with arousal that his eyes appear completely black in the low light. He leans forward again, pulling up his mask, and harshly kisses you, pushing his tongue into your mouth as his knee forces your legs apart. You whimper when you feel his erection brush against your thigh and he bites down on your bottom lip, hard. He moves his focus to your neck and collarbones, attacking the sensitive skin with kisses and bites, marking every inch of you that’s visible.

“This is so,” he murmurs breathlessly between fervent kisses to your skin- and, Christ, is he smelling you?- “everyone knows you were fucked by the Riddler. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? For everyone to know that you’re such a whore that getting fucked by a serial killer gets that pathetic cunt of yours completely soaked.” You moan at his words, arching your back to press your chest against his as you grind against his knee.

“Such a needy little thing. One touch from me and you’re already at my complete disposal.” He leans back on his heels to look over you, your hair a complete mess, your lips swollen and as red as the flush on your skin. The strap of your bra has slipped down your shoulder and Edward’s breaths become haggard as he reaches for the knife on his belt; he cuts away the fabric hiding your breasts from him, much to your dismay (that lingerie set was pretty fucking expensive), and immediately takes one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud before biting down lightly. You moan louder, squirming against your restraints and trying to pull away from him.

He slaps you again, harder this time, running the flat side of his knife against the mark that begins blooming on your cheek. “If you don’t shut up and take it like a good girl, I'll have to hurt you.” He presses a chaste kiss to your parted lips. “I wouldn’t want to ruin a face as pretty as yours.”

You whimper, rubbing your clothed core against Edward’s thigh, feeling the arousal in your lower belly build from the stimulation. Edward certainly doesn’t miss this, his eyes widening slightly as he peels your underwear away from your pussy. A string of your own slick connects you to the mesh fabric, and you can hear the amusement in Edward’s voice when he says, “oh, I’m going to ruin you.”

He cuts your underwear away, dragging his knife down your body painfully slowly. You shiver from the cool metal, whining from frustration when Edward’s gloved fingers spread your glistening folds, pointedly ignoring your throbbing clit.

“You pathetic girl... so wet for me. No one else could get you to react like this from their words alone, could they?” You shake your head rapidly, wiggling your hips in an attempt to get closer to Edward’s fingers. “Say it, then.” He begins lazily rubbing circles into your clit, causing you to cry out with relief at him finally touching you. He runs the blunt end of his knife across your neck, twisting it in his hand so the tip presses into your skin, not quite breaching your flesh. “Nice and clear for me. Tell me that you’re my bitch.”

You moan when he begins speeding up his movements on your clit, stumbling over your words. “I.. I’m your- your b-” He cuts you off with another slap to your cheek, and the action sends a sharp jolt of pleasure right to your clit, causing you to choke out a moan. “Not quite, pretty girl. Try again. Whose bitch are you?” Your eyes narrow with confusion for a second before you realise what he wants you to say.

“I’m th- the Riddler’s bitch.”

He nods, satisfied, pushing two gloved fingers inside of you while the other continues rubbing your clit. You can feel your orgasm approaching embarrassingly fast, whimpering and giving Edward a pleading look.

He nods wordlessly and you unravel, your orgasm enveloping your body in a blissful warmth as your pussy clenches hard around Edward’s fingers. He breathes out through his nose, hard, as he watches you cum, his cock throbbing at the feeling of your pussy spasming around his fingers.

Edward pulls his fingers out of you when your body finally finishes shaking, inspecting your wetness on them in the low light of your bedroom for several moments, before pushing them under his mask and sucking them clean. He moans at the taste of you, and you feel his dick twitching against your leg as he closes his eyes, savouring you. He sighs, opening his eyes.

“I need more.”

Before you can react, he’s gripping your waist with strong hands, dragging your body up against him, holding you up almost completely off the bed, and hooking your legs over his shoulders. Edward gazes at your drenched cunt with a hunger in your eyes that you've never seen displayed by him, his breaths deep and shaky as he smells the arousal leaking out of you. You squeak, thighs still quivering from your previous orgasm.

“W-wait, Ed- Riddler, I... I’m still t-too sensitive for...” You cut yourself out with a cry of pained pleasure as he latches his mouth onto your pussy, pushing his tongue into your sensitive hole. You sob as he sucks on your clit, shocks of overstimulation wracking through you as you weakly kick your legs against him, your body growing limp. The sounds Edward makes as he devours your pussy are obscene, the room filling with echoes of your cries and Edward’s moans as he sucks and licks crudely at your sex.

He pulls away occasionally, praising and degrading you in barely coherent pussydrunk babbles: “such a perfect girl for me,” “stupid bitch, such a needy whore for your savior,” “so pretty with mascara running down your face,” “any louder and I'll give you a real reason to cry,” “taste so good, i need all of you.” And it’s all so much, his tongue writhing so deep inside you, the grip of his hands on your ass, the cool leather biting into your flesh, the way he moans and ruts into the bed from the taste of you, and before you can even breathe you’re cumming again, and you’re cumming so hard your back lifts off the bed entirely, the strength of your orgasm rocking you all the way to your core. Your mind goes blank as a chain of choked moans and sobs spill from between your lips, all you can focus on being the way Edward continues to fuck you with his tongue all the way through your orgasm. You can feel your slick sliding down your thighs, and when Edward pulls away you can see it dripping down his chin, and you don’t miss the proud grin on his face as he pulls down his mask.

He drops you back onto the bed, straddling you once more and wiping your slick from his chin with his finger, motioning for you to open your mouth. You obey him and he pushes the digit inside, motioning for you to suck it clean. When he pulls his finger from your mouth, his eyes darken, and you can practically feel the smug smile in his words. “Such a good little girl for me, aren’t you? No one can make you cum like I can... and I can still smell how horny you are for me. You’re so needy, yet you’re never satisfied.”

He tilts his head, and the dim light from the lamp behind him illuminates him similarly to a halo, and you almost find yourself beginning to create a religion in your head just to worship him.

“I don’t think you’re being very grateful.”

You begin crying out words of thanks, rubbing your legs together to lessen the ache of overstimulation. Edward's knees cage you in, and he grips one of your thighs with his hands.

“Quit your grovelling and stop fucking moving when I’m talking to you.” His hand travels to your face, cupping your cheek with a surprising tenderness as he sighs. “You’re still so filthy... look what this city has done to you. I suppose I’m your last hope.”

He unbuckles his belt and unzips his trousers, finally freeing his cock from its confines. The tip is an angry red and leaks with precum, and Edward lets out a breathy moan as he strokes it. He spreads your legs, lining himself up with your sex and pushing into you slowly. He gazes down at you, a complete mess beneath him, and groans. “You’re so lucky... being fucked by Gotham’s salvation...”

You can barely think, let alone speak, and when Edward begins moving his hips, his thumb finding your clit and massaging it, you sob, tears streaming down your cheeks. He moves in and out of your agonisingly slowly, and when you look up at him, you can make out that his eyes are closed as he savours the feeling of you.

“Your virgin pussy is so... so fucking tight. Oh... h-how does it feel to be fucked by your saviour? Your God?”

You sniffle beneath him, choking on your sobs as he speeds up to a punishing pace, his cock bruising your insides. He grabs at every inch of you, his hands finding refuge around your throat.

“Oh, you’re so good. You were so filthy, but I will cleanse you. I will purify you; I will plant the seed of hope within you, and you will be saved.”

He babbles on as he fucks you, squeezing his fingers around your throat, verging on crushing your windpipe but never quite gripping hard enough. You cry out for him, so cockdrunk and lightheaded from your sudden lack of oxygen that you find yourself looping your bound wrists around his neck, pulling him forward and crashing your lips to the rough leather of his mask. He makes a noise of surprise before his fingers once again find your clit, rubbing at it desperately as his hips begin to stutter against your own.

Edward, ever the gentlemen, wants you to cum before him; you feel your cheeks grow warm at the thought, and pull away to look at him. You can barely keep your focus on him, your vision going hazy, and he begins assaulting your clit with more fervor.

“Be a good little angel and cum for your savior.”

Your vision goes white as the orgasm rips through you, your entire body spasming as your pussy clenches down hard on Edward’s cock. He has to stop moving to prevent himself from cumming as he guides you through your own orgasm, his fingers weaving through your hair as he coos at you.

“Yes, that’s it. Such a perfect girl. So pretty cumming on my cock.”

He begins speeding up again, his hips slapping against yours with a clumsy rhythm, his breathy moans growing louder and more desperate with each thrust. You lay, exhausted, whimpering incoherent words of encouragement to him as he chases after his own climax.

You feel him begin to pull out and you weakly wrap your legs around his hips. “W-want you inside. Need... need you to cleanse me from the inside.”

Your words are what tip Edward over the edge, and he whimpers loudly as his cum spills inside you, his hips grinding into yours as he relishes in the aftershocks of his orgasm.

Thank God you're on birth control.

Edward slowly pulls out of you and cuts the duct tape that binds you, gently pressing kisses to the insides of your wrists. He pulls off his fogged up glasses and his mask, placing a gentle kiss to your lips as he smiles at you worriedly.

“I didn’t go too far, did I?”

There's your lovely Eddie.

You shake your head, laughing weakly and he smiles, pushing his glasses back up his nose as he helps you to your feet and guides you to the bathroom, letting you use his body for support. Edward sits you on the lip of the bath and dampens a towel, gentle cleaning you up and placing loving kisses to every bare patch of skin he can reach. He reluctantly leaves you alone to freshen up as he straightens up the bed, changing into his pajamas and finding your favourite t shirt of his to sleep in.

When you re-enter the bedroom, with a slight limp that Edward definitely notices but refuses to comment on, he dresses you and tucks you into bed before lying next to you, brushing your hair out of your eyes.

“Sorry I’ve been so... distant lately.”

When you go to answer him, he rubs his thumb soothingly on your cheek and you get the message that he hasn’t finished talking.

“We have big things planned, we both know that, but... it wasn’t right of me to not look after you when, now that I look back at it, you really made it obvious that you needed me to. I hope you can forgive me.”

You smile, pressing a shy kiss to Edward’s lips.

“Don’t apologise, Eddie. There’s nothing to be sorry for. You can apologise tomorrow when I can’t feel my legs or sit down properly for a week.”

He laughs and buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent.

“I really love you, you silly girl. A-and..."

He pulls away from you but continues to avert his gaze, his cheeks pink and a lopsided grin tugging at his lips.

"The, um, th-the lingerie was very pretty, you looked really lovely. I'm, ah, sorry about..."

He doesn't meet your eyes and you snort, bringing a hand to rest on his cheek with a fond smile.

"Yeah. That I'm not so quick to forgive. You have no idea how expensive nice underwear is when you're a woman."

Edward laughs shyly, delicately holding your wrist and pressing tender kisses to your palm that leave you melting. The heat in his eyes, however, is undeniable.

"I absolutely will not complain if you decide to spend all my money on pretty lingerie and then decide to model said lingerie for me."

"You're unbelievable."

You both laugh as Edward continues peppering soft kisses up your arm, then your bruising neck before finally meeting your lips in a tender kiss. He pulls away, and the way he looks at you with such love and adoration almost makes you tear up.

Edward twirls a strand of hair around his finger, pulling you closer to his chest. His fingers reach up and he begins combing them through your hair properly, whispering sweet praise to you as you find yourself dozing off.

#dano riddler #dano riddler x reader #edward nashton #edward nashton x reader #paul dano #riddler 2022 #riddler x you #batman 2022 #edward nashton x you #riddler x reader #danocel #danonation #dano!riddler #the riddler #the riddler x reader #the riddler x you

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vintagexherry · 8 months

Text

Child's Play [5]

Part 4 here

YandereBully!Miguel O'Hara x Reader

//Bullying, Degradation, Forced Intimacy, Forced kissing, Threating, Forced into a room, Ooc Miguel,

A/N: I'm not rlly proud of this chapter but enjoy

Previously

"See? Isn't that easy? I knew you had a brain in there somewhere. Well, see you soon Y/N" With that he ruffled your hair, and then he placed your notebook by your side and left you sitting there.

Dreading on what's to come.

You're in your room stressing over the lessons you reread time and time again.

"Well, uh- how bout this mate, I try to question you, and you'll answer with what you know, yea?" Steven suggested while he helped you review, You had declined at first but, He had just finished reviewing his own lesson stating that "I got it all in a ma head luv, don't you worry". You relented, feeling nothing but gratitude for his help.

Time passed, and you were feeling confident with what you learned, thanks to Steven. You and Steven decided to take food from outside. You volunteered to take the order but as soon you pick up the phone, you see a newly sent message from none other than Miguel.

You were about to ignore it but remembered the last time you did during high school, Miguel saw you in the hallway and took your phone from your grasp and smashed it on the floor.

Thus, a new phone and a new number.

You shivered from the memory, remembering how his gaze seemed darker, angrier than usual.

Steven saw your distracted gaze

"Mate,you know what? It's really been a day for you, I'll take the order and you rest up your tired brain. " Steven suggested with a smile, and you nodded, taking this chance to see whatever Miguel sent.

As Steven names his and your order on his phone, you, on the other hand, try to come up with a reply to type.

Miguel:

7:00pm, a day after exams, don't forget

You keep staring at it for a few seconds and decided to just send a like emoji but before you could, another message appeared.

Miguel:

Before I forget, don't bring that pathetic excuse of a friend you got and wear smth cute.

You wish you could kill yourself at that moment, You did plan to ask Steven if he can go to you to the party hoping to have a companion you could trust. But of course somebody has to ruin everything.

You decided to just sent a like emoji as a reply but as soon as you sent it, he sends another message.

Miguel:

Bitch, reply properly.

You sighed.

You:

yea yea i got it Miguel.

Miguel seemed to be satisfied since he didn't reply back anymore.

You focus again on eating till Steven breaks the silence.

"So uh- so after exams, there's p-prom right?" Steven asked

You looked at him questionably until you nodded.

"So uh-yea right...Yea about prom...would...Would you like to go with me?" Steven's voice faltered the more he speaked but you didn't care for that.

Maybe there is hope in this world, with Steven asking you to prom maybe there is hope...

You didn't realize how long you been staring at Steven with shock since he started stammering.

"We-well you don't have to agree of course! I just thought-well I just thought that m-maybe yo-"

"YES!" You happily exclaimed

"R-Really?! Ar-are you sure? I don't wanna force you mate" Steven stared at you with disbelief and you chuckled at his reaction.

"It's all good, Steven. I would gladly go with you at prom." You gently reassured him, and he couldn't feel anything but happiness.

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

Taking the test was easier than you thought. Thanks to your and Steven's study session, you were confident about your awnsers. And remembering last night prom request of Steven, you can't help but smile a little.

You don't even care about the glances Miguel sends your way until you are putting things in your locker, and all of a sudden, a hand slammed it closed.

"Miguel," you groaned, your happy mood ruined. "What is it now? If it's about the party then don't worry I won't bring anyone and won't be late." You fought to roll your eyes.

"Glad you remember that, but that isn't what I wanna point out."

"Wha-"

"You keep grinning like some idiot, beautiful but just gross. You finally fucked Steven's small dick?"

You sighed not really in the mood to deal with him especially since he ruined it.

You decided to walk away and look for Steven so you can both head to the cafeteria.

Miguel was about to stop you till a girl came in, wrapped an arm around his, and started talking as if they knew each other for years, when really he just met her couple weeks ago wanting someone to sleep with someone it seemed that escalated for her.

He watches you walk away to the direction of the history class down the hall, and once he couldn't see you anymore from the sea of people, he turned his attention to the girl.

She was talking about something in her class, the professor, he guessed.

Miguel couldn't care less what she wanted to talk about. Right now, he's frustrated with your attitude he just decided to take it out on the girl front of him.

"You know what, how bout you visit me later at my house, have some bonding time yea?" He flashed a smirk and changed his tone suggestively, something that works everytime.

And work it did.

The girl seemed nothing but happy to accept, and with that, he has another to warm his bed, which sadly isn't you.

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

A day has passed, and soon you have to go out and get a taxi to Miguel's house.

You were dreading all day long about the party, and when Steven asked if you were alright and simply nodded.

You really don't want to drag him in this mess.

You dressed casually and put your phone, keys and other necessities in your purse. You check the time and it was six-twenty five o'clock, perfect just enough time to go to his house and hopefully not get beaten up for.

Miguel seemed to know that, too, since you went outside and noticed his car was parked in front of you, shining against the setting sun.

Oh please...Not this again, not another car ride...

Miguel rolled down his windows.

"Finally, you were taking forever, thought I had to go up there myself and drag you out. Hurry up and get in."

You sighed, and you thought you might as well get over it.

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

Car ride was silent as usual and silent even when you arrived.

As Miguel enters his own house, you are greeted with music blasting from speakers and people drinking god knows what in plastic cups.

As people greeted Miguel, he greeted back, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as he led you deeper into his house, and you couldn't help but feel unease settling you. You really wished you had Steven with you right now.

"Miguel, who is she?" You both stop in your tracks and turn around to see the girl who Miguel hangs out with a lot, probably slept with already.

"None your business." Miguel said monotonously.

"Miguel, are you being serious right now? We have only been dating for a week, and you're already chea-" The girl started stating angrily and your starting to sweat from the tension between you two, thank god that you three are a bit farway now from the crowd, hoping they wouldn't hear what's happening.

"Dating? tch, that's on you and your delusional head. Now go away. We're busy." Miguel stated, not waiting for her reply as he led you away even further from the crowd and front of a door to what seemed like a storage area for cleaning supplies.

"Miguel wh-"

"Now, before you say anything hermosa, I'm gonna go straight to the point." Miguel held you firmly by the shoulders.

"I like you, love you even." Miguel said with adoration in his voice and admiration in his eyes.

But you froze

Your head empty one second and filled with questions the next.

What?

Just what??

Is this another of his pranks and his jokes?

Maybe it is

And you didn't notice you were chuckling till he pointed it out.

"What's so funny, hermosa?" Miguel asked with confusion clearly written on his face.

And you stopped laughing.

"Wa-wait....Your serious?" You asked him while looking around for any hidden cameras or anyone secretly filming you the two of you, maybe it still a prank?

Miguel went quiet for a bit, looking at you for awhile and then chuckled letting go of your shoulders.

"I get it, I get it. It is hard to believe that, huh? But trust me on this, what I just said, I meant it Y/N." Miguel said seriously, and you're surprised he called you by your name this time.

"Um...Miguel I-"

"You know, this party? wasn't supposed to be held at first, but I've known you since high school, and since you don't want to be alone with me I decided to host this stupid ass party, but then, If I try doing it at school that puny ass Steven Grant of a guy comes in and destroys everything" He said, and you notice he grows more frustrated the more he talks.

"Miguel, listen, I-" You tried to stop him, but he interrupted you

"Shut up" Miguel snarled at you and you can't help but obey, fearing his temper would combust at any minute.

"Just...Shut. Up...That day in the cafe? Was probably the only time I could have fixed everything, even explained to you why I treated you in that way, but you just had to open you mouth and nothing but attitude comes out of it."

You're scared.

His words are too much and you can't handle everything, one second his bullying and now he confessed to you.

"I tried inviting you to prom with me to atleast make up for everything, I did but you're stocked up attitude doesn't help one bit Y/N. But you know what? I still found myself liking you given our history together, But you also know what your ass decided to do? act like a child."

One of his hand come up and suddenly grabbed your forearm tightly and you panic, is he gonna beat you to death? Did he finally snap? You tried pushing his arm off but his hold is too firm.

While he grabbed your arm, the other hand opened the door to the storage area and before you could scream for help he pushed you inside.

He immedietly closed the door and you heard the lock clicked.

"You wanna act like a child? Then I'll treat you like one."

"MIGUEL, LET ME OUT PLEASE." You started to bang on the door.

"You wanna go out?" Miguel taunted from the other side. "On one condition."

You stopped banging for a while, your breath coming in and out fast, and your body feels cold from the temperture.

"Say "I love you Miguel""

"What-"

"Not gonna say it? Alright, enjoy being locked there." Then you heard his footsteps gradually fade away.

"NO NO MIGUEL PLEASE." You panic once again banging on the door and pleading him but it was fruitless due to the banging music.

You tried looking for your purse but you notice it gone...Miguel must have took it when you got pushed into the room.

You started hypervalating, tears streaming down, and you tried banging on the door again hoping anyone just anyone to come and save you from the musty and cold enviroment of the storage area.

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

You didn't notice you fell asleep, until you hear heavy footsteps approaching.

Your tired body groggily sat up and the door opened to reveal Miguel.

You don't hear any loud music anymore, was the party over? how long did you sleep?

"Hello there mi amor, ready to say it?" Miguel greeted you gently, his tone foreign to you.

Miguel didn't mind your silence and crouched down to your kneeling form and held your face in his large palm. Then you remember the condition.

"Come on mi sol...Say it" He asked gently.

"I....I love you....Miguel" You stuttered out weakly, your body still cold and tired.

"There, and now give me a kiss"

Your too tired to fight back so you but still hesitsted, in the end you decided to peck his cheek.

But that wasn't enough for Miguel.

Since he grabbed the back of your head and kissed you on your lips with vigor.

Your eyes widened and you tried pushing him away but all he did was deepen the kiss even further and moaned into it.

Finally he let go with a satisfied smile.

"Mm...Always wanted to do that, felt like a dream come true hm Y/N?"

He stared into your tired state and into your tear glossed eyes.

"Seems like you deserve to rest properly"

With that he carried you bridal style to what seemed like his bedroom, took your shoes off and layed you down.

Your body couldn't resist the soft mattress and finally your eyes drifted to sleep.

"Goodnight mi vida." He said as he kissed your forehead.

Oh how much you wished you brought Steven with you...

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel x you #spiderman 2099 #tw yandere #tw bullying #tw yancore #tw force intimacy #yandere miguel o'hara #bully

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aegoniiwifey · 5 months

Note

Anon who requested the chubbydaddy!aegon and his daughter <3 you did my request justice and way more I'm obsessed- I literally reread it like ten times I love it. Also another chubbydaddy!aegon request: Aegon getting requests to court/ wed his precious girl, and he ignores them all, ignores what the Small Council wants, etc and goes to her after a long day, letting her ride his belly, then breeding, then cumplay, and whatever your genius mind comes up with <3

Wanna Be Yours

PAIRING: King!Aegon ii Targaryen x daughter!fem!Reader

WORDS: 1,944.

WARNINGS: incest, swearing, angst, breeding kink, praise kink, stomach riding, cum play, titty sucking, p in v sexual intercourse. indented parts are previous scenes.

A/N - I am so so sorry for responding so late, I took a little hiatus with tumblr and am starting to find my rhythm again. I absolutely adore this trope and your ideas. so happy you enjoyed the first piece, it was an absolute privilege to write! hope this is just what you imagined also xx

Apologies I have not reread this as I finished work and my eyes are about to shut! will proof read tomorrow ♥️

credit to my beloved BOOBIE @bnb-atnite for making this godly image of my man CHUBBY! ilysm!

"Your Grace, it is highly frowned upon by the Seven that you wed your daughter! We have given many exceptions to your ancestors for upholding their queer customs, but this- This arrangement we do not condone!"

Aegon's deep exhale as his eyes darkly snapped towards the elderly maester, was enough to silence the room with his palpable vehemence. He was beyond tired and irritated by the constant nagging of his esteemed Council, of their blatant disapproval of their King's intentions to wed his beloved... His only surviving blood, his daughter.

Throughout the war, Aegon had grown insatiably protective of you: in addition to having a special place in his heart as his eldest born, you remained the last remaining figure in his previous life, despite his mother and himself. As your grandmother silently fell into madness, in the privacy of her chambers, where she preferred to seclude herself, Aegon had no other person he soulfully cherished than you. And as he was to you, the feelings had become reciprocated. Your father loved you dearly: since becoming of age, a young, matured woman, his advances had grown more intimate and lubricious. You owed him your life, and wished nothing more than to devote yourself to him. No man could have done what he did for you...

"It is done, Maester Orwyle... I will wed my daughter in the ancient traditions of our House, if it be the last damned thing I do. I am the fucking King!" Aegon loudly asserted, slamming his pudgy hand against the solid, wooden tabletop, as his words simmered the Council into a fright.

Aegon was known for his temper, although it took a great deal for him to raise his voice: he was a stubborn man at that, also...

"My dearest, what is it? What have they done now that troubles you so, hmm?"

Aegon defeatedly relinquishes in the wooden rocking chair by the stoking fire: it’s orange-red tinged flames being the only source of light emitting in the room.

You walk up behind your father, his face stern and unmoving besides his closed eyes as his hand rubbed at his temples. Your hands find their way to his broad, thick shoulders, giving them a gentle massage as you knead the tension.

“So-So tense, my beloved. Tell me what is wrong, so that I may be of some help. Let me ease your mind, Daddy.”

Aegon’s shrugging shoulders said plentiful, as he opened his eyes once more, head turning slightly to its side so that you were in his peripheral vision.

“There is nothing to be sorted, my love. I am to wed you, and as their rightful King, it is my final word above all else. Those elderly cunts can yap all they want. I will have you.”

With his final word, a yearning flare brews between your thighs, aching for one particular thing. Your father always had a way with words, especially with you.

“Is that so?” You teasingly utter, as you straddle yourself comfortably on his lap. Your arms grip the overarching wooden frame of the chair as you swiftly lift yourself up, before plopping back down, although this time elevated by your father’s overgrown, rotund belly.

Your earliest, core memories of your father had always been admiring him at feasts and family dinners. He never denied himself a hearty meal, and his grand appetite never ceased during the war. Inevitably, as the years went by and his youth disappeared the weight remained and latched on with each mouthful. The intimate moments your attention would linger onto him, as he savoured each bite, the way he'd unashamedly lick the grease and crumbs off his chubby fingers, even off the rings that had fit him a time before... Now that he had sized up immensely, most treasures and clothes that he had worn, he had rapidly outgrown. None of his rings could go beyond the tips of his fingers, and he was in great denial about it, refusing to resize until you had convinced him otherwise. The way he had often rubbed his aching, bloated belly: swollen beneath the restricting fabric, a somewhat elevated and satisfied look strewed across his handsome, fat face as he would pat himself proudly.

"But I want Daddy all to myself. I want Daddy to fight the whole realm for me, if he has to. Can Daddy do that for me?" You utter closely into his hear, your hot breath dense against his earlobe: after hastily hiking your skirt up [wearing nothing below, as you instinctively anticipated this precise moment], you unbuttoned his top garment, only to expose his rotund, plush belly. The handful of rolls engulfing his sides, the grip-able hips that accentuated his width, streaked with raw, red stretch marks all across his love handles and lower belly. His tits were double your size, nipples sensitive under your gentle touch, even a flick of his nipple was enough to make him moan. It made you flustered, the sheer sight in evidence of your father's blatant growth... And he had no shame in admitting it.

"Of course, baby. Anything for my sweet, little princess. Daddy would burn the entire realm if he has to for you... I'll repopulate the world with my princess, if needs be."

With each of his longing words, you pressed yourself down deeper, sinking your bare cunt further against his naked belly, causing him to whimper. His pudgy hands found their way beneath your layered gown, each palm rested atop your cheeks, firmly cupping and squeezing at your flesh.

"My princess knows just what to do, to make her Daddy happy, huh? My only joy in life, is you."

Your grinding rhythmic, the pace begins to quicken with excitement, as your throbbing cunt becomes moist, the wetness stirring and oozing beneath, against the warm friction. As your cum coats his smooth fat, slowly it becomes more tolerable.

"I-I just wanna make m-my Daddy proud- D-Daddy can s-say whatever, a-and I'll do as I'm t-told-"

"Is that so?" His mimicking voice, a deep growl wretched from his throat, as his hands find their strength, shoving you deeper against his swallowing frame. He always admired how tiny you appeared in comparison to him, how fragile it made you look. He rejoiced it was a symbol of how he could protect you, that he was your shelter.

"Daddy wants to fuck Princess senseless, all night long. Fill my Princess up with my hot, hot seed until I'm certain she takes. Daddy wants Princess to swell with his child, and show her off to the realm. That the babe kicking in her belly, is all his undoing, hmm."

"A-Anything for Daddy- Just f-fuck me, Aeg-"

Although it drove Aegon wild to hear you mindlessly moan and whisper Daddy, something in particular, whenever you called him by his name, would often trigger something more insatiable in him. He could devour you in the spot, like some afternoon tea honey cake, whenever you spoke of his true name.

"Undo my pants-" Immediately without sparing a thought more, you obeyed. As Aegon's plump belly expanded over his thick, wide lap, his portly fat pad beneath had somewhat engulfed his cock. It made it difficult for him to even try to locate or masturbate himself. For now, you had both learnt tricks to overcome the obstacle, having your father lean in a certain angle, as you put in the effort to locate his fat, hard cock, plunging it deep between your walls.

As he tried to reposition himself with great difficulty, in the faint space left remaining in the seat with you atop: breathless by the end of all the moving, you managed to pluck out his cock. The sheer sight and tension beneath your gentle stroking grip, its reddened, blush tip oozing with a sheer-white, translucent reside, palpating with excitement.

"Don't keep Daddy waiting, Princess. I need to feel your walls take my cock. Make you so fucking full of me, I'll make you a human waterfall."

The raw feeling of his cock between your inner walls, clenching to adjust to its girthy, solid size: although it could no longer delve as deep as it used to, the friction of his fat pad against your clit, and the pressure of his mass against your lower stomach, made it invigorating nonetheless.

"Th-That's it, Princess. S-So tight for me. All fucking mine, and the w-whole world will know it-"

"Y-Yes, Daddy-"

"If I need to fuck you with the eyes of the Court watching, I will."

As means to muffle your moans and loud pleas for Aegon, bashfully mindful of the servants and Kingsguard stationed beyond the inches of the door outside, your mouth latched onto Aegon's porky tits.

Suckling at his tender flesh, as your tongue licked at his nipple, causing him to wince and growl in eager approval, one hand left your ass cheek, gripping close your bucking hips, and found its way snaking behind your back, before pulling at your loose hair.

Tightly tugging at the free strands, mottling between his pudgy fingers, he once more, gave gentle encouragement, shoving your face down deeper against his tubby chest.

"F-Fuck Y/N. S-So impressed by Daddy, huh, Princess? You keep going at this rate, I'll be making my own damn milk for you and the babes."

Noticing the glistening residue of your cum spilled across his rolls and paunchy stomach, his other hand cleaned the mess up over with his bare hand. Before hungrily licking off your wetness with his tongue, licking his hand clean free.

"Delicious."

With his heavy, dense weight keeping him pinned down against the chair, he made no effort to thrust himself inside as he once jovially could. Alternatively, the chair swayed with his potent motions, as he would subtly buck his ample hips forward into your frame.

"My sweet, beautiful girl is gonna cum already. I can feel you swallow my cock whole, your walls suffocating my cock. Take me, princess, take it all-"

With the finish of his words, signalling his epitome, Aegon shot his hot, fresh seed into you: warmly coating your inner walls, as your own wetness gushed over his eager, hard cock. Catching a minute to regain your breaths and thoughtless mind, you lifted yourself off, and instantly the mess began to pool across your inner thighs.

Almost on cue or from impressive instinct, Aegon began to scoop at your inner thighs, sensitive from his touch, its abrupt presence startled you.

"Did I not teach you about letting things go to waste, baby? Never let this out. This is as precious as Valyrian steel. I ought to keep you plugged up with my cock..."

The tips of his fat fingers tease at the entrance of your folds, softly tracing over your stained, painful walls: impressed with your sudden shiver and moan, his deep chuckle left you feeling reminiscent of your first time. How nervous you felt, inexperienced against your father's wit.

"I-I want this to take. I want to have as many babes as the Gods see fit with you, Aeg... I want to swell healthily with child, and give you the heir you want... As many as you desire-"

As one fo your hands remained nestled against his chest, tracing soft, random lines against the crevices of his rolls: the other travelled its way to his face, pushing aside a random strand of hair, away from his handsome, fuller face.

"I want our sons to be the spitting image of their father, and our daughter's kind like their grandmother... Will Daddy fuck me day and night, to make my wish come true, hmm?"

"Of course..."

credit for dividers - @/valeskafics

#aegon ii targaryen #fat!aegon ii #chubby!aegon ii #aegon ii x fem!reader #aegon ii x daughter!reader #aegon ii targaryen imagines #aegon ii targaryen imagine #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen angst #aegon ii targaryen smut #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #hotd imagines #hotd imagine

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i-literally-cant-with-this · 3 months

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A/N ♕ This is gaudy as shit and I don't care. Idk. There may be inconsistencies with the story, so, sorry. I've been working on this all day. 8 pages on Google Docs so you're in for a read. Good stuff starts at page 3 (mind you, this is from Google Docs perspective.) I read, reread, rereread, rerereread, rererereread .... until I couldn't. This is a little headcanon-y and a little fic-y. It's just what I was feeling. I know you know what to do if there's anything horribly wrong. For real, though. This is so fucking long I never want to see my laptop again.

C/W ♕ Unprotected P->V, F->M & M->F Oral, M->eating his cum (sorta) from F, kinda rough sex but they like it. I'm so brain dead right now that I can't remember everything. Soft broken Hanma eventually. I like you, no shit? I like you too. Kiss kiss. Snooze snooze. Happy happy.

Funsies ♕ A link of the playlist I made while I was writing this in case anyone wants to check it out. I don't think the read will exhaust the playlist so pick any song you want and it should, theoretically work at any point?

WC ♕ 3,915 (ISH - I change things once I get it here on Tumblr, but it's around that.

♕ You'll never forget the first time you rode on the back of Hanma's bike with him.

♕ He wasn't really keen on the idea of taking you home. You weren't even his responsibility.

♕ But it was a favor for one of his captains.

♕ Hanma put his helmet on you, tightening the strap under your chin carefully so he wouldn't pinch your delicate skin.

♕ He was so pissed when he noticed how pretty your eyes were, staring so intently back into his. He had to shake himself out of the distraction.

♕ "You're not wearing a helmet, Shuji?" You asked.

♕ "This's the only one I have, obviously. And you're going to wear it, got it?" He was so adamant about that.

♕ He got you settled in the helmet and threw his leg over his bike. Looking at you impatiently, waiting for you to get on, he put his hand out and you took it.

♕ You hopped on behind him and wrapped your arms around his straight waistline. And you're not sure if your heart skipped a beat because you were so nervous about being on the back of a motorcycle with him for the first time or if it was how you felt with your cheek pressed to his back

♕ He also noticed how nice your arms felt wrapped around him. He turned his head before he took off and told you you'd better hold on tighter, he doesn't drive like a 30 year old.

♕ Hanma thought he turned his head enough from your line of vision before he smiled. But you saw it.

♕ So you did what he asked and squeezed him tighter, pressing your chest harder against his back.

♕ He started the engine and the vibrations sent shockwaves throughout your cunt body like you've never experienced.

♕ Both you and Hanma thought it wasn't possible for you to get any closer to him, but you both somehow managed to impress the other.

♕ He was at a stoplight about 3 blocks from your house and he reached back to give your thigh a little pat.

♕ "Hold on to me, hana. I'm gonna go like hell when I see that light turn green."

♕ His hand stayed on your thigh even after he took off. Stayed there for so long, actually, that you were getting concerned about the upcoming turn in the road. But he pulled his hand forward just in time to take it with ease.

♕ The wind against your face that carried his scent - which you could NOT place, (Sandlewood? Cedar? It was DELICIOUS to say the least) was starting to make you feel drunk.

♕ You could just barely hear the music playing through the small (but strangely loud) speakers --- Be Quiet and Drive (Far Away), Deftones. You had heard the song before and liked it but now it held a certain heaviness over you. Everything about this moment felt right. The night was warm. The stars were out.

♕ How the fuck had you not realized this before?

♕ Hanma is ... he's fucking sexy.

♕ He pulled up to your place and he stopped the bike, letting it idle while sitting in your driveway.

♕ "Ok, you have arrived at your destination. You're welcome, for the ride of your life." He seemed a little more lighthearted now than when he first was roped into taking you home.

♕ "Yeah. Yeah, thanks. Um, thanks. Do you - maybe ... want some ..." you just couldn't fucking talk. He looked so handsome in the soft yellow lights that lined the street.

♕ "You got some food? I could eat, yeah." He kicked the bike stand out and turned it off and reached up to remove his helmet from your head.

♕ If he missed the blush that washed over your face he'd have to be a blind man. But you noticed a faint smile on him, too. So you think he caught it.

♕ "What do you feel like? I just went shopping and I'm fully stocked." You stood with your back to him, he was in the living room looking around at the shit you had all over your walls. Weird art that made him feel things. Stuff he's never thought himself capable of feeling - not bad things, either. But new things.

♕ And you felt comfortable with all of this. Knowing he was in another room than you. Except, he wasn't in the living room anymore. He was right fucking behind you. You stopped to look up into the cupboard you stood in front of to see what was there, if it was easy and quick to fix up.

♕ He reached out and traced the curve of your waist and leaned in, putting his face to the back of your head. "You going to feed me, y/n?"

♕ Your first thought was who's going to perform CPR on your right now because you're about to die. His breath was so hot on the back of your neck you were able to document the time that your heart actually stopped beating for a second.

♕ Hanma put his hands on your shoulders and ran them down your arms. When he got to your wrists, he pulled them behind your back more roughly than you've ever been touched by any man before.

♕ And he's so much taller than you, so he has to bend over so he can talk right into your ear.

♕ "I'm sure it's ready for me to eat right now. Not much prep is going to be required. I guess, in a way, you could almost call it fast food?" He yanked you so you were standing up straight and your back was flush with his front.

♕ You didn't know what to do with your hands so you just left them where he placed them. He had his free hand back on your waist, squeezing and exploring.

♕ "I don't think I've ever wanted something so bad as I do right now, hana." He said, letting his fingers dip lower and lower. You threw your head back and it fit into the dip between his neck and shoulder.

♕ You couldn't help but think he was such a fucking gentleman, waiting for your permission before he took anything. You leaned back against his chest and turned your head to kiss him. "Then take ... take it. Take what you want, Shuji. Take it all."

♕ Hanma's hand went back up to your throat and squeezed just enough to make you gasp.

♕ He leaned around and pressed his mouth to the corners of your lips, teasing you into giving yourself fully over to the kiss and sliding his tongue down your jawline to your neck. Ending up at your ear once more.

♕ "Good girl, hana. You're so wet for me right now, I can fucking smell it. Tell me what you want me to take. Hm? You want me to take you? You're going to be so good for me. Or maybe not? Maybe you're just going to be a nasty ... little ... bitch. I think I'd like to see that. This sweet girl act you put on. I've seen you walking around like you're just the best thing around here. Well? You going to prove that to me, hana? Huh?" He said, his voice dropping an octave as he ran his hand down your stomach and dipped his fingers into your panties.

♕ He moaned into your ear, "Oh fuck, hana. You're dripping for me. I'm going to fucking ruin you."

♕ He turned you around more roughly than he had to and hoisted you onto the counter, yanking your pants down and kneeling down before you, inhaling your scent. Deeply.

♕ Hanma looked up at you with such fire in his eyes, you couldn't help but feel a little intimidated. He traced his finger over your pussy, feeling your wetness before leaning forward and dragging his tongue over the same invisible line his finger forged on your trembling skin.

♕ You arched your back and gasped as he brushed his lips against your thighs. You could feel how heavy his breathing had gotten. He pushed one finger passed your folds, then two, and you could feel yourself tightening around him.

♕ "Shu, f-fuck. Please, I need ... I need ..."

♕ He looked up at you with his eyebrows raised. "What do you need, hana. Use your words."

♕ You reached down and grabbed him by the ears, pulling him up to your face. "I ... fuck me, Shuji." You kissed him, tasting yourself on him.

♕ Hanma didn't waste a second. He pulled you off the counter and dragged you into your bedroom. You turned around and yanked at his belt buckle, pulling it from the loops all at once and threw it across the room, unzipping his pants and pulling them down.

♕ He leaned you over the bed, spreading your legs and reaching up to squeeze your ass. You looked back at him, wanting him to fill you up.

♕ Hanma rubbed his tip up and down your slit, teasing you. "Shuji just ... just fuck me."

♕ You were so whiny and needy. It was making him so hard. He wanted to fuck you right then and there. To give you what you were so desperately and metaphorically, on your knees for.

♕ But the sadist in him, found it hard to acknowledge your pleas so soon. He didn't want you to work for this, per se. But he wanted to make good and damn sure you wanted him as much as he wanted you. So what if he had to deny himself instant gratification. The look on your sweet, flushed face was already worth having to drag this out.

♕ "You've been so good for me, hana. I'm going to give you exactly what you need. But I don't want you to come too soon." He said, smirking as he pulled you back to your feet and turned you around, pressing his hands into your shoulders until you were on your knees.

♕ Hanma reached down and pulled his cock out of his boxers and he patted your chin a few times. Urging your mouth to open so he could slap it on your tongue before pushing his tip into your mouth. You let him guide you as you took him down your throat. He kept his eyes on you, watching as you struggled to take him all the way in.

♕ "Fuck, y/n. Look at you. Taking me like a good little slut. I knew you were going to act like a little bitch in heat. Choking down my cock like that." He praised you through gritted teeth. Despite sounding so volatile, it made you feel so good to be used by him this way.

♕ He pulled out of your mouth and pushed you back onto the bed, flipping you over onto your stomach. He pulled your hips up and guided his tip into you, slowly pushing himself in until he was all the way inside you.

♕ Hanma held himself there for a minute, feeling you tighten around him. He started moving again, in and out of you.

♕ You felt like you were on the edge of an orgasm with every thrust. The disgusting way he used you for his own pleasure and the way he spoke to you was driving you mad.

♕ "Shuji, fuck ... I'm gonna cum."

♕ He pulled out and turned you onto your back. He spread your legs apart and leaned over you, pushing himself back inside you and pressing his lips to yours.

♕ "Yeah? How close? How close are you?" He dragged his teeth over your ear and on down to your visibly beating pulse point and left a purple mark in his wake. You clenched up around his cock so hard when he did this that he had to stop moving and pull himself together. "Fuck! Hana! Keep that shit up and this is over. I'm fucking finished."

♕ He thrust into you harder, his balls slapping against your ass wasn't helping you hold off cumming all over him. You felt your orgasm building up inside you. You reached down to rub your clit, but he saw where your fingers were aiming and he brushed your hand aside and started rubbing soft circles on it for you. It made you moan - the most whorish, slutty sound you have ever let out.

♕ It was out of your control at this point. His dick pounding inside of you, hitting all the right spots at all the right times was making you more cock-drunk than you have ever felt. If you could even consider yourself aware of anything other than his golden eyes burning holes into yours and the rise and fall of his hips against your spread legs.

♕ Your cunt swallowed his cock so perfectly. The thought crossed your mind that you were made for each other. But that's ridiculous. Hanma hates you. Right? He didn't even want to take you home. So why, then, is he balls deep inside of you right now. Don't fucking ask, you thought to yourself. Doing any and every little thing you could to stave off your imminent crash.

♕ He could see your eyes start to roll back and he knew what was happening. He pressed his thumb harder against your clit and started circling it faster.

♕ "Cum for me, hana. Show me how much you wanted this, how much you wanted my cock inside of you." He sucked on your nipple as he fucked you. Balancing over you on his left hand, his right hand still trifling with your pulsing clit. You tried to buck up against him for any extra stimulation but he only pulled back. "Aht! I make you cum. You ... you let me. Understand, hana? I ... make ... you ... cum." He growled through his clenched jaw directly into your ear. Punctuating each word with driving his hips harder and harder against you.

♕ You couldn't hold it in anymore. You came so hard and you didn't even care that he was watching you so closely. You let your body relax and gave in to the moment. You'd pretty much checked out mentally, but whatever connection remained between your brain and your body was otherworldly. You felt his cock sliding in and out of your soaked cunt. It was so thick and long. Nothing like you imagined it would be by just looking at his tall, thin frame. (But aren't those guys always the wildcard?) It was all you could focus on.

♕ Hanma was ready to cum, too. He pulled out of you and turned you over onto your stomach again. He slapped his wet cock against your ass before pushing back into your pussy, making you moan into the sheets.

♕ You were still twitching against him. As close as he was to blowing his sticky load of cum inside of you, as hard as his cock was twitching, he was so transfixed by how you felt around him. So fucking hot. So fucking soft. So fucking beautiful. Like a goddamn flower. Your pussy made him think of the most beautiful flower and nothing would ever change his mind about that. (And he would never figure out why - but he wondered if it had to do with the weird art in your living room).

♕ "Fuck, hana. Fuck!Fuck!Fuck! You want me to cum inside this pussy? Want me to cum in my pussy, huh? Yeah? Fuck, cumming so fuck- hard, holy shit. Fuck!" Hanma came with such force, you could feel his cum pouring into you. And soon after, seeping out of you from around his cock still inside of your stretched hole. He collapsed on top of you, both of you breathing heavily. He didn't want to move, not yet.

♕ And he felt like it should bother him that he was still here with you. Still, physically, a part of you, as much as you were a part of him. But he couldn't think of a single reason why he should leave. Let alone why he'd want to leave.

♕ "Shu, you ... I ... well," you tried to speak but couldn't form a coherent thought just yet. "Um," it was useless. You couldn't think. So you just laid there underneath him. Feeling more and more empty with each passing second as the sadness of this being over filled you instead feeling full from Hanma. It was not a good placeholder for him. It was not feeling nearly as good as he did. And you felt like crying.

♕ Whether because it was just too much for you or it was just nothing to him. What if it were both? Shit. You're starting to cry.

♕ He felt you tremble underneath him and he rolled off of you, turning you over to face him.

♕ "Hey, what's wrong? Hana? Look at me, now. Did I hurt you? Did I do something?" He looked more concerned that irritated. And that's probably what surprised you the most. You tried to hide your face, but he grabbed your chin and pulled you back.

♕ "No, it's ... it's nothing. I just ... it was too much. You were too good." You said, laughing hard through the tears, wholly embarrassed by your generous assessment.

♕ "Oh, what now?" Hanma smiled and kissed you on the forehead. He reached down and grabbed your hand, bringing it to his mouth and kissing it. "You say I was too good? Were you even here? I mean ... I guess it's impossible for you to feel yourself. But, I guess ... I guess I'm only as good as who I'm with? And, hana," he cupped your face in his rough, slightly grease stained and scarred hand, "you were good, too."

♕ You laughed again, shaking your head. "Don't ... don't be nice to me. I can't handle it. And that's not even ... you don't have to say that to me. I know you don't like me. You can't fucking stand me. I knew all of this when I asked your captain to make you give me a ride. How embarrassing is that. I fucking am so pathetic sometimes." You rubbed your eyes with the heel of your palm. "God. You can go. You don't have to stay. It's alright. I'm ... I'll be ... fine. I always am."

♕ Hanma sat up on his elbow, looking down at you with his brow furrowed. "Hana. I can't believe you're this stupid." He rubbed the back of his neck and looked out into the hallway.

♕ "Shuji! Who the fuck is Hana? And why do you keep calling me that? My name is-" great, now you look sad and insane.

♕ "Chill, crazy. Hana means blossom. And I think, ffffuck. Ithinkyou'reprettylikeaflowerplusyourpussyispretty." His words ran together but you heard every single separate syllable. You're pretty sure you fell in love with him a little bit, too. The fucker.

♕ He leaned over you again, pressing his lips to yours. You moaned against his mouth and reached to grab his cock, but he stopped you. "No. I wanna make you feel good. It's your turn." He kissed your neck and made his way down to your pussy, licking up his own cum that had dripped out of you. You bucked your hips up into his face, reaching down to grab a fistful of his hair.

♕ He looked up at you with wide eyes, smirking. "Hold on, hana. I got you." He sucked your clit between his lips, pressing his tongue against it and making you cry out in pleasure. He pushed two fingers into your pussy and started pumping them in and out of you, hitting your g-spot while he circled your clit with the tip of his tongue.

♕ "Fuck, Shu! Fuck me!" You screamed.

♕ He looked up at you with his eyelids still heavy. "That's what I'm trying to do, baby." He said, chuckling. "Just this time, it's with my mouth. Ok? So sit back and enjoy the ride." He leaned back down and continued sucking and licking and pumping you until you couldn't hold on anymore. You came for him, all over his face. And he didn't seem to mind one bit.

♕ He crawled up to you and laid beside you again. You looked over at him and smiled. "You're such an asshole. But I kind of like you."

♕ He leaned over and kissed you, letting you taste yourself on him. Again. "No shit? I've liked you for a while. But I ... hell, I don't know. I guess I thought you were too good for me or something." He put his head against your chest, subconsciously counting the heartbeats coming from your body. "That's usually what people tell me. The guys and stuff. They always give me shit about anyone I like. Except ... except for you. They respect you."

♕ You nodded slowly, spacing out on the chunk of blond hair above his forehead. "Yeah, it helps having a cousin who's a captain. But Shuji, I do. I really do like you. I just wanted you to know that."

♕ Hanma looked up at you with a softness in his eyes you had never seen before. "I know, hana. I know." He kissed you again, pulling the sheet over both of you. He didn't want you to see him get worked up. Not over you. Not emotionally. Not just yet. But he was pretty sure he was starting to fall in love with you. And that was just something he wasn't prepared for. Though he'd have to face up to it. Sooner, rather than later, he thought.

♕ He turned over onto his back and let you snuggle up next to him, throwing your arm over his chest. He closed his eyes, thinking about how much he'd like to do this again. Just like this. Just you.

♕ You reached over and turned off the lamp, laying your head against his chest and simply being in the darkened room with him. It was so easy, you thought. And you hoped it would always be that way, though you knew better than to believe that. Because Hanma was a very complicated man on the outside and inside. And you wanted to be the one who could be there to understand him. The one who could get to know him. The one who could make him laugh and cry and feel any and everything he ever wanted to feel. You wanted to be the one who'd be there to listen to anything he had to say. Softly spoken or screamed out.

♕ And that's all you wanted. To be there for him. And with him. And with him.

♕ "Good night, little hana." He said, pulling you tighter against him.

♕ "Good night, beautiful Shuji." You smiled in the darkness and drifted off to sleep.

♕ And you didn't care how much you'd regret saying it or how much you'd try to deny it. It was true. You were in love with him. And you knew it would be some time before he could admit he felt the same way. But you would give him whatever amount of time he needed.

♕ He hoped he would be worth it. Hanma wasn't necessarily a good man. He has never been called a good man. Never has he ever really felt like one.

♕ But he heard you talking to him in the morning before you got out of bed to fix the coffee. Telling him how you'd be there for him as best you could. No matter what.

♕ He thought to himself that he hoped he'd never disappoint you. No matter what.

Taglist ::: @katkitkats @darkstarlight82 @arlerts-angel @viburnt @kazutora-kurokawa

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palioom · 1 year

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say my name (javier peña x f!reader)

summary: after along day and many setbacks at work, you invite an exhausted javier over to a drink at your place. but you both have more than just a drink on your mind. pairing: javier peña x f!reader word count: 7.6k warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n (but a lot of nicknames); smoking & drinking, swearing (lots of swearing), rough sex, some choking, biting, some spanking, dirty talk, unprotected p in v, teasing because javier is an asshole

• masterlist •

It was late at the DEA headquarters, the clock almost striking midnight, and yet, some few offices were still lit brightly, the fluorescent lights buzzing above the occupants. In one such office, two people were still buried in heaps upon heaps of paperwork, the air stale from the copious amounts of cigarettes smoked as they worked, the ashtray about to overflow.

They were all Javier’s, the stress of the day having him smoking one after the other, as if his life depended on it.

At this point, it might as well.

She sat at a table not too far away from his, head in her hands as she looked over photos and transcripts, trying to find something.

Something that would help Peña and Murphy to catch another narco. Another sicario.

Maybe even Escobar himself.

She was tired, so damn tired, a good gallon of coffee or two pumping through her veins. Coffee, just because she wasn’t about to get fired for drinking on the job.

Though, with the amount of trips people took to the file rooms or bathrooms, the not-so-secret turns of bodies into a corner before their head flew back, a little silver glint here and there. Yeah, she wouldn’t even stand out trying to cope with this job through alcohol.

All while this wasn’t even her job.

Not truly, at least.

She was here to assist the two agents in their hunt, having been delegated to desk duty after she had been injured and declared unfit for field work years back.

But that didn’t mean she was expected to stay here for more than half a day, killing her eyes and her sleep along with her personal life and, god knows what else, while looking at these damn papers and chugging coffee as if it was the elixir of life.

To some, it probably was.

The words didn’t even make fucking sense anymore and she wondered how long she had been rereading the same paragraph for.

Hell, how long had she tried to make sense of the first three words of this damn sentence already?

No, this was a personal thing for Peña. Having started off rocky, his cocky and flirtatious attitude colliding with her loud, easily irritable mouth, they had formed some form of friendship over their time together here.

That had taken some time and effort, though.

He kept her sane with his no-nonsense mouth, so far away from her family back in the States that she wasn’t allowed to talk about anything with.

And she kept him out of trouble as much as she could.

Which sometimes meant she took the blame for some of his blunders. Or those of Murphy.

They weren’t exactly just a few blunders.

God, she hated them sometimes.

Looking over at Javier, he didn’t seem to fare much different from her; cigarette in one hand as the other one rubbed his temple. He looked fucking exhausted, worse so than her, probably. Which was no wonder, given he had been out there hunting Escobar today, he had been out there and had him slip right through his hands.

In a way, it was her fault as well, not finding the clues to his whereabouts and plans quickly enough and then puzzling them together wrong, infecting everyone with her falsely constructed theory.

Escobar had escaped by mere minutes.

The talking-to she got from Messina had been fucking awful. Not even Peña had tried to argue.

She had been beating herself up all day over this, trying to do better on a new pile of intel, trying to recall all the mistakes that could have led to her fucking this up so hard and finding a way to avoid them. It probably was part of the reason she had stayed even after Murphy had thrown in the towel, citing Connie as to why.

That, and because she wanted to help Javier out, somehow. Maybe even look after him.

God knows he needed someone to do so.

“You good, Peña?” She asked, squinting at him. These horrible lights had her eyes hurting, bringing a small headache with them.

He looked up at her, eyes tired and taking a drag of his cigarette. “I’m fine, hermosa. You?”

She still hated these flirtatious nicknames.

“Don’t lie to me, Peña.” She responded, rubbing a hand over her face as she leaned back in her chair, stretching her legs. The rhythmic ticking of the clock had her glance over at it for a moment before looking back at him. “You look fucking awful. Think about calling it a day yet?”

Javier shook his head, brows furrowed as he exhaled the smoke. “There’s gotta be something we missed.” His brown eyes darted back down to the paper in front of him, flying over the small, black letters.

She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest with an annoyed glare. That was the one thing she hated about him, still, besides his attitude.

That tendency to work himself into the grave if need be.

“Javi.” His name only earned a small hum as he kept looking over the paper, so she repeated it again. She only really used this version of his name when she was serious. “Javi. Look at me.”

He did, eyes finding her face again with raised brows.

“What?”

There wasn’t even an attempt to hide the annoyance in his voice.

“You’ll work yourself into the ground if you keep this up.” The sternness in her voice was underlined with a hint of concern. When he tried to protest, she didn’t even acknowledge it. “Wanna give these fuckers out there a reason to celebrate? You need a fucking rest.”

A moment of silence.

“I know you can’t even fucking comprehend the words in front of you anymore.”

He sighed. A hint of defeat.

Arguing with Javier Peña wasn’t exactly easy. The agent always had a response to everything, needing to have the last word.

Stubbing out his cigarette in the overflowing ashtray, he let his head fall into his hands, rubbing both of his temples with a groan. “We’ll never get him if we stop now, hermosa.” He said, voice rough. It wasn’t hard to overhear just how exhausted he was, it took an idiot not to notice.

“We won’t get him either if we drop dead from exhaustion, Javier.” There was a harshness to what she said, the words coming out rougher than she had intended them to. It was the only thing he ever really heard, though. “I’m asking you to stop for tonight, not to blow all of this off indefinitely.”

Javier didn’t respond, still rubbing his temples. With the way his hands were positioned she couldn’t see his face, so she wasn’t sure if he was thinking about her words or just ignoring her.

There would be hell if he ignored her now. “I’m worried about you, Javi.”

Maybe the caring approach would help, she knew he reserved a soft spot for her deep under those way too tight shirts of his. Even if he didn’t want to admit it. “Let’s call it a day, it’s almost midnight. Join me for a drink at my place, then go home. Or stay. I don’t care.” Another moment of silence.

“You only wanna hitch a ride.” He said, a smirk evident in his tone even if she couldn’t see it.

It made her chuckle, “Yeah, maybe.”

He sighed deeply, lifting his head and looking at her with the smirk he had been hiding, his eyes twinkling a little as he lifted an eyebrow briefly. “Alright, let’s pack up.”

Thank God it worked, she sighed internally, still smiling as she packed her few belongings and put them in her purse. In quick movements she had gotten up and grabbed her leather jacket off the back of her chair, happy to get out of the stale air of the office.

“You can be quite convincing, sweetheart.” He chuckled, fishing another smoke out of the box in his shirt pocket. If the narcos didn’t kill him, it sure as fuck would be those things. “Gotta admit that. Too bad you’re not doin’ field work anymore.”

She rolled her eyes, walking down the long corridor alongside him, trying to keep up with his long strides. A million times she had told him to lay off the flirty names at work, else someone could get the wrong impression.

It wasn’t difficult not to, with his reputation.

It didn’t help that she was attracted to him, brushing off his attempts over and over again because she didn’t want to be another girl under his belt. Not that she’d ever tell him that, instead just feigning a lack of interest, which he always responded to with a stupid comment of his.

“Peña.” She warned, raising a brow as she looked over at him. “Stop calling me sweetheart, Javier. Someone’s gonna get the wrong impression, I told you.”

Javier chuckled again, putting away his lighter. “Why not, sweetheart?” A smirk stretched the dark mustache wide over his lips, looking down at her in forged innocence, a playful glimmer in his eyes. “What wrong impression could they get, baby?”

A long groan escaped her, grinding her teeth together as her jaw flexed.

He’d be the death of her.

“No ‘baby’, either. Fucking Christ, Javier.” Rubbing a hand over her face, she sighed in annoyance, eyeing the exit just a few feet away from her. “Because people will think that we’re fucking. There’s enough gossip as is.”

The thought of calling him something as equally as embarrassing had crossed her mind many times, names ranging from ‘hot stuff’ to ‘goober’ to ‘lover boy’. But something told her he’d just find it amusing as hell.

“Alright, alright. Don’t wanna taint your reputation, princess.” Javier conceded, the smirk on his face growing wider as he saw her face go red, eyes narrowing as she let out another annoyed groan. It was so easy to get under her skin.

“You motherfucker.” She grumbled, giving him a playful shove as his arm wrapped around her shoulders for a moment, pulling her against him with a laugh.

The car ride to her apartment went by mostly in silence, some slow Latin songs playing on the radio, the streets empty. She looked at him as he drove, one hand on the steering wheel and the other hanging out the window, eyes fixed on the road. It was a wonder he could still drive, as tired as he looked, bags under his eyes, hair disheveled.

He looked so different when he didn’t think he was being watched, still his stern self but he was more relaxed, looked more open. It was what she often recognized in herself, that need to overplay how he really felt, deep inside.

It didn’t make him less attractive, though. Especially in the flickering lights passing by them. Highlighting the way his forearms flexed as he turned the wheel, the prominent veins on the back of his hand.

His lovely, big nose, thick mustache and those fucking plush lips.

What they’d feel like on hers?

Javier caught her staring, looking over at her with a smirk, thumb of his free hand swiping along his bottom lip. “Like what you see?”

She groaned, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest. “Fuck off.”

“Gotta have a reason for starin’.” He added, dark eyes moving back to the road but finding great joy in her reaction. “Thinking about more than just a drink?”

“Lord help me.” She sighed, a hand running through her hair, seeing him round the corner to pull into the parking lot of her apartment complex. “No, I was thinking about asking you to stay the night.”

Seeing his smirk widen in the corner of her eye, she realized that she had only given him another thing to jump on, quickly adding, “You’re tired, I know it won’t be just one drink and I can’t let you drive any more in this state, fucking hell.”

Parking his Jeep and turning off the engine, he looked over at her, squeezing her knee briefly.

Why was he always so goddamn touchy?

His warm hand made her heart skip a beat.

An amused twinkle laid in his eyes. “If you say so.”

“I hate you.”

Her eyes narrowed, unbuckling her seatbelt.

“You don’t.” Unbuckling as well, he opened the door. “C’mon, princess, let’s get inside.”

“Thin. Fucking. Ice.” She growled, exiting the car and walking off.

Inside, she threw her purse and jacket on a kitchen chair, opening the top buttons of her dark blouse while Javier made a beeline straight to the kitchen cabinet he knew housed her alcohol.

She had been itching to open this damn collar all day, the Colombian heat doing her in, but she was worried about the leering stares of other agents. So, she had sweat and suffered in silence, fanning herself with anything in her reach, glancing at Javier who could just walk around with practically his entire shirt undone, not worrying about a damn thing.

The display had made things a little more bearable, at least.

Fuck, she really wasn’t better than any of the men, was she?

“What d’you want?” He asked, taking her out of her thoughts. As if he didn’t already know the answer. “Wine? Or whiskey?”

“Bold of you to offer me the contents of my cabinet, Peña.” She laughed, leaning on the counter top of the small kitchen island. “I need a whiskey.”

Closing the cabinet doors, he twisted the cap off the Jim Beam, pouring each of them a drink. She watched him, his back turned to her, seeing his muscles move under the tight, tan shirt.

In a way she was grateful not to do any field work anymore, she probably would have problems concentrating if this was her view all day, his short sleeved shirt half undone, sweat glistening on his neck and chest as he handled his gun.

It made her feel hot in more ways than one.

Damn, she needed that drink badly.

Turning around, he handed one glass to her. Holding his own into the air, he said, “To catching these bastards.”

She raised her own, cheersing him. “To catching these bastards.” She echoed, downing the dark liquid in one gulp, grimacing as the burn traveled down the back of her throat. A warmth settled in her stomach, spreading through her body almost instantly and letting her relax a little.

If only there wasn’t another familiar heat, settling deep in her abdomen as she watched him take a sip.

“C’mon.” She said, rounding him to grab the bottle of bourbon, walking into the direction of the living room. “Let’s sit on the sofa a little.”

Javier stared after her, taking one more sip as he shook his head before he followed, watching her flop down into the soft cushions with a content sigh, kicking off her shoes.

“My type of woman.” He chuckled, finishing his glass and sitting down next to her, taking off his shoes as well. There was a small distance between them, not big enough for another person to fit, but to leave each of them a bit of space. “I’m actually quite surprised you can finish a glass of whiskey that quickly, hermosa.”

He set his glass down on the small coffee table in front of them, throwing his pack of smokes down next to it after he fished them out of his shirt pocket. “I wouldn’t be able to say the same about most girls I know.”

“Whoa, totally not sexist at all, Peña.” She laughed, pouring them both the second round of whiskey before leaning back into the cushions with a shake of her head. “It’s all practice, drink enough of this stuff and anything is possible, you should know.”

“Practice.” He scoffed, raising a brow and leaning back as well, his drink untouched. “This isn’t practice. You’re a special one, sweetheart.”

She shrugged her shoulders, looking at him with a smirk as she brought her glass to her lips.

“A woman who can handle her liquor,” Javier mused, looking right at her, “I wonder what else you can handle.”

The whiskey burned as she choked on it, coughing hard as some of it shot up her nose.

Fucking hell, he couldn’t be serious about that.

She wiped away the liquid that had spilled down her chin with the back of her hand, still sputtering. “What are you implying?”

There was a playful twinkle in his eyes, watching with amusement as she tried to regain her composure, her cheeks flushing red. It was adorable in a way, different from how she quipped when surrounded by people at the headquaters.

“I mean liquor, guns, maybe...” He laughed, an arm coming to rest on the back of the sofa as he leaned back against the arm rest, legs opening slightly. There was a brief moment where he caught her stare traveling down, right to the middle of his tight jeans. “What else would I be implying?”

Of course he caught her staring.

“Knowing you, it could be anything.”

God, he was teasing her relentlessly today, unsure if the alcohol made her cheeks flush crimson or the way he looked at her, that stupid smirk of his always on his handsome face. Him spreading his legs like that must’ve been on purpose, too.

One of his stupid flirting attempts. He couldn’t even stop when he was on the brink of collapse.

Leaned back on her sofa like this, alcohol in his system, he seemed to come alive a bit. Features still tired but some energy in his brown eyes now.

He chuckled, grabbing his glass and this time he was the one to knock it back all at once, grimacing only the faintest bit at the burn, a low hiss leaving him. “My mind’s still on you downing that glass. It’s hot, cariño.”

Javier leaned forward now, definitely intruding in her space. Eyes flickering down to her open collar, they lingered for just a little too long, trying to make out what she was wearing underneath.

He’d be damned if she was fucking naked under this.

That thought made him strain against his pants, shifting his hips.

He subconsciously licked his lips as he looked back up into her dark eyes.

They were pretty, he thought, looking back at him with a mix of uncertainty and something that he would describe as lust. The blush on her cheeks was clearly visible now, a broad hand coming up to brush his knuckles over one of them before moving to put some strands of hair behind her ear. Then, it landed on her thigh, squeezing it.

“You know what else is hot?”

He could feel the shiver running through her, the breath hitching in her throat at the question. At the touch of his hand.

She was a goner.

Despite that, she just looked at him with raised eyebrows, trying to play it cool, hoping he couldn’t see her heart beat in her throat.

Why the fuck did she opt for the whiskey? The way he looked at her made her feel way too hot, that heat in her abdomen spreading through her veins into every part of her body.

She could feel the wetness between her thighs.

“No, what is?”

She hoped she sounded as calm and collected as she wanted to sound.

In reality, she didn’t. Javier picked up on it immediately.

“You, hermosa. You know that, right?”

His eyes were fixed on hers, the hand on her thigh coming up to her face again, brushing along her lower lip now.

He had noticed her stares in recent times, glued to him when she thought he hadn’t noticed. The way she practically ate him up, undressed him, her dark eyes roaming over his exposed chest and arms. How she had looked at his hands, even if he was only twirling a pen in it.

How they flitted away when she felt caught, almost managing to look collected and innocent.

Almost.

Javier had been right to assume her excuses of no interest had been bullshit. She was just playing hard to get, much to his frustration.

He’d had an eye on her ever since they met, and as much as he tried to tell himself that she was just pretty, just a loud mouth he would like to shut up, as he fucked someone else, his mind always came back to her.

Even when they got closer, he couldn’t shake the thoughts of what she’d sound like moaning his name as he pounded into her.

Often he had felt guilty about that.

Now, he was sure she had done the same with him.

And if she wasn’t interested in him? If she was just reacting to him the way she did right now because she was exhausted and the alcohol addled her mind? Then this was just a fun, little flirt.

Something she would groan at him for now, curse at him for later, but it didn’t hurt to try.

“Getting quite red, cariño.” Javier chuckled when she stayed silent, leaning even closer. “Where’s that mouth of yours?”

She really didn’t know how to respond, mind blank save for the thoughts about how inviting his lips seemed.

Looking down at her drink for a moment before looking back up at him, she sighed.

Fuck it.

Turning her face away just briefly enough to knock back the glass of whiskey, she set it down on the table with a loud bang before surging forward and kissing him hard, hands cradling his face.

His hands fell to her hips and he pulled her closer, kissing her back hungrily, drawing a moan out of her when he bit her bottom lip. Moving away from her mouth, he kissed down her jaw to her neck, biting her pulse point.

“Not interested, huh?”

“Shut the fuck up and kiss me, Peña.”

Pulling him back to her mouth, she heatedly pressed her lips to his again, feeling his fingers dig harder into her hips as she did so.

All the gossip that had floated through the headquarters was true.

Javier Peña definitely knew what he was doing, she thought when his tongue slipped into her mouth.

It sent a jolt of electricity right through her, heat pooling in her abdomen.

She pushed him back firmly to lay down on the sofa, climbing on top of him as he watched with an amused smile, his eyes blown dark. Determination and hunger resided in hers, straddling him and bending down to find his lips again.

Returning to their place on her hips, his hands pulled her down. When her middle ground just lightly into the sizable tent in his tight jeans, she moaned.

He quite enjoyed that noise.

“Is my princess a little angry?” Javier cooed with a cocky smirk between kisses. Using a moment of distraction, he placed a kiss on her forehead.

All to get more of a rise out of her.

“I like this side of you, so dominating. Who could’ve known, hermosa.”

“Don’t fucking ‘princess’ me, you dick.” She growled, breathing hard, lips now moving over his jaw, the slight stubble there scratching her. Finding that sensitive spot just below his ear, she bit into it, smirking when a low groan bubbled in his throat. “Don’t fucking baby me, either.”

Thank fuck for the liquor giving her a confidence boost, as well as bringing back the energy to spar with him.

“Someone’s feisty.” He commented, mouth close to her ear and biting into the lobe. Hot breath fanned over it with every word of his. “Why the change of attitude now?”

“Cause of your cocky ass.” She replied, sitting up to unbutton some more buttons of her shirt before pulling it over her head, revealing a black, lacy bra.

A smug smile creeped onto her lips as she stared down at him, seeing Javier take in her form, his fingers inching just a little higher, the rough pads digging into the bare, warm skin of her hips.

For the slightest moment, his smirk fell, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. Finding her eyes, though, it sprung back, a lopsided smirk stretching his mustache wide again.

“You and your fucking mouth, your cocky fucking attitude.” Leaning back down to him, she continued, becoming quieter, but her voice didn’t lose any of its fire. “Your goddamn fucking looks, Peña.”

Mouths back on one another, fighting for dominance, his hands roamed down. Splaying wide over her ass, Javier took a handful and squeezed, really grinding her down against his middle so she could feel him, dragging another moan out of her lungs.

He was fucking hard.

She could feel the self-satisfied smirk against her lips, his mustache tickling her.

Javier truly was gonna be the death of her.

One hand came up to her jaw, gripping it firmly. Not enough to hurt, only to make her feel the strength of it before he pulled her away from him, just far enough to take in her face. “I’m cocky, huh?”

She groaned, struggling against his grip just a little before deciding to give up. Still, she stared right into his eyes, narrowing her own just slightly.

“Yeah, you’re fucking cocky.” It was barely a whisper, but the words still had a bite to them. “You cocky hijo de puta.”

Javier watched her eyes twinkle as she said it, clearly gunning for a reaction from him as a wicked grin stretched her pretty lips wide.

If she thought he’d give it to her this easily, she was sorely mistaken.

“I am, but you love it, cariño.” Pulling her closer to him, his mouth was over her ear again, speaking low. “Admit it.”

His voice sent a shiver down her spine and he watched as her eyes transformed, a fire lighting inside them.

She did like it, feeling how wet she got the more he talked. But she would never admit it.

It would please him too much.

“Jódete.”

A breathy chuckle escaped him.

“Say that again for me.” Javier whispered. “I like the sound of it when you say it like that. It's fucking hot.”

There was no denying that it turned him on, the way she swore and challenged him. His hips shifted slightly underneath her, dick twitching in his jeans.

The tight denim became uncomfortable at this point.

“Jódete.” Every syllable was punctuated firmly, grin still on her face. “You’re such a cocky motherfucker, Peña.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “You sure know how to use that mouth of yours.”

His free hand roamed over her back, toying with the clasps of her bra. It was obvious that he didn’t plan on opening it just yet, just trying to rile her up a little more.

Even though he really wanted to see those pretty tits without their confinements.

“I really like that about you, hermosa.”

“You haven’t even seen me use it yet.” She whispered against his lips, fighting against his hand to kiss him hard.

Moving her hands to the small buttons of his shirt, a groan of frustration slipped out of her mouth and into his as she fumbled with them. The more agitated she got, the harder it seemed to grab a hold of them.

Javier enjoyed feeling her struggle, only aiding her when she nearly ripped the buttons off the garment, placing his broad hands over hers. “Need help?”

She wanted to wipe the smugness off his face. That stupid, flashy grin of his.

“Fuck you.” She whispered, lips trailing over his jaw to his neck, leaving marks with her teeth. The small hum rising in his throat was more felt than heard by her, traveling further down to the newly exposed skin, nipping at it. “Fucking bastard.”

Her hands slid out underneath his, exploring his tan chest, feeling the muscles as she moved them down his sides.

Fuck, the glimpse of chest he showed at work really only was an appetizer.

The way his muscles danced under her fingertips as she moved them over his ribs, then down to his stomach excited her, only feeling hotter when she reached the trail of hair vanishing under the band of his jeans.

Javier wasn’t jacked, she already knew that, loving when his stomach popped out over his pants just a little. But feeling the relative softness of it just made her love it more.

“Strange way of saying thank you.” Watching her for a moment, he closed his eyes and craned his neck with a grunt as she sucked a bruise into his chest, placing a firm bite just a few inches away after.

A slap, followed by a sharp gasp echoed in the room, his hands colliding with her ass, a retaliation for the bite.

That definitely turned her on, more heat pooling in her stomach. And he probably felt the involuntarily roll of her hips as well.

She wouldn’t let him know, though.

The daggers she shot at him through her eyes did nothing to diminish the gleeful expression on his face as she sat up straight. That really lit a fire in her, her hands reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra, feeling too confined by the black lace.

“You wanna stay here?” She breathed, sliding the bra off of her shoulders and throwing it across the room. The corners of her mouth curled up as she watched his eyes widen just marginally, tongue flicking out again and his jaw setting. “Or you wanna move it to my bed?”

A beat of silence.

Just briefly, for a tiny, tiny moment, she thought she had shut him up for good. She should have known better than to expect a pair of breasts to silence Javier Peña.

“Your call, princess.” There was that teasing asshole again, one hand wandering up and groping at one breast, chuckling at the weak roll of her hips. The rough pad of his thumb brushed over the hardened peak and he wanted to frame the sight of her as she threw her head back, neck exposed and hair falling over her shoulders. “I’m down for whatever, so lead the way. Take command, show me what you’re all about.”

He also wanted to frame the sight of her as her head rolled forward again, piercing right through him with the determination and heat in her eyes.

That fucking nickname really spurred her on.

This was a challenge now.

“Fuck. You.” She breathed heavily, moving so she could reach his belt. Opening the metal buckle, she worked on the button of his jeans next. “What I’m all about? I’ll show you what I’m all about, Peña.”

Wrenching the fabric open, she let her hand glide in, wrapping her fingers around his cock, finding him hard and leaking as his hips jerked up into her touch. “You’ll say my name like a fucking prayer when I’m done with you, asshole.”

He swallowed hard, his jaw set. The feeling of her fingers was incredible, and he had to restrain himself from fucking into her fist when she moved her hand. If she wanted a challenge, she would get one.

“Yeah? You gonna make me say your name?” Javier breathed, hands moving to unbutton her pants. “Pretty sure it’s the other way around, sweetheart.”

He pulled on the denim, movements rough. He was aided by her as she took her hands away from his cock and shifted so he could yank them down her legs before throwing them to the side, followed by her black panties.

When she went to remove his jeans, however, one of his hands twisted into her hair, yanking her down and against his lips, tearing a surprised moan from her which he used to slip his tongue into her mouth.

In any other scenario, she would have loved to simply give in to him, letting him manhandle her and fuck her into the couch. But right now, she was much too proud, much too determined to shut his cocky mouth up than to give him control.

She’d show him who was the boss here.

His free hand slid between them, a finger gliding through the lips of her cunt, finding her soaked. Her hips stuttered, moaning again when he ghosted over her swollen clit.

“Yeah, you’ll show me?” He mocked, applying just the faintest bit of pressure and watching as her eyes rolled into the back of her head. What a fucking sight. “With a pussy this wet for me already?”

There wasn’t a chance in the world she would get him to submit, hearing her moan after barely being touched. Maybe he should let her try, it would be fun to see her exhaust herself at the attempt.

He bet she would crumble not long from now, even if he enjoyed this back and forth massively.

“Fucking show me, then.” Letting go of her with a push, he leaned back, putting his hands behind his head and looking up at her expectantly. “Go on, hermosa.”

She sat up, breathing hard. Seeing him like this, laid back and relaxed as if this didn’t even faze him at all - as if he was on fucking holiday at some beach and enjoying the sun - it only made her angry, determined to get him to break.

“You smug motherfucker.” She whispered.

Moving off of him, she pulled down his jeans hastily, underwear coming off with it, suppressing a groan when she straddled him again, feeling his cock slide through her folds. She braced herself on his chest, breasts pushed forward and rolling her hips so she slid over him, just teasing him with a smile.

It seemed to do more for her than it did for him, though. He didn’t even take his eyes off her face, even though she knew he really wanted to watch her pussy get his cock soaked.

Javier barely fucking reacted at all.

His stubbornness was admirable, she had to give him that.

As much as she wanted to continue to tease him, trying to draw him out somehow, she was also reminded of her own need for him, clenching around nothing when the head of his cock nudged against her clit.

Biting her lip, she reached down, positioning herself so he was lined up with her and slowly sank down on him, watching his reaction.

A tiny crack showed in his self control, his teeth grinding together as he felt how tight she was around him, brown eyes flicking down to where she was sinking down on him.

The sight of him spearing her open was mesmerizing.

“Mierda.” It was so quiet she almost overheard it, her mind dizzy from how fucking good he stretched her open, clenching around him when he was buried all the way to the hilt.

“Fuck, you’re huge.” It slipped out of her in a breathless whisper, mentally scolding herself for saying it out loud and hoping he hadn’t heard.

No need to stroke his ego more.

But he had heard, his eyes moving back up to hers, mustache stretched wide over his lips once more.

Fuck.

“I am, huh, baby?” Javier grinned, arms still behind his head, biceps tensing. “A nice, huge cock to stretch that tight pussy of yours open. You like that, hm?”

Of course she fucking liked it. Growling in frustration as she grit her teeth, she threw her head back, looking at the ceiling. His words only made her cunt pulse around him, hating that he would feel it, too.

Slowly, she lifted herself up, biting her lip to stifle a moan when she had almost moved off of him before sinking all the way back down.

She would not give him the satisfaction of hearing her, too.

“C’mon, baby, where’s that mouth of yours?” He nodded at her, brows furrowed in mock concern. Feeling her pulse around him amused him, but he really needed to hear her fight back.

So, he put himself into the game, one hand gripping her hair again to bend her down to him, lips almost touching while the other grabbed her hip so hard it would leave bruises.

Oh, she liked that, too.

“Tell me you like it, baby.”

“Fuck you.”

His grip tightened, hips thrusting up into her. It took her by surprise, jolting forward with a loud moan, and Javier pushed her hips down onto him again, giving her no way to escape.

“That really all you can come up with?” He set a harsh pace, meeting every thrust of hers, pushing himself all the way in.

“Shut your fucking mouth, cabrón.” She could feel him twitch inside her, smiling breathlessly when she realized that he seemed to enjoy the bit of Spanish she had picked up from working here. “Don’t wanna hear your fucking voice unless you start chanting my name.”

He couldn’t help the laugh that left him. “Your pussy’s telling me somethin’ different.”

His hand left her hair, moving to her hips as well as he accentuated his words with a harsh snap of his hips, pressing her down into his lap when their lips met again and he swallowed her sounds.

He controlled the roll of her hips with his hands, feeling her struggling against his grip. Right now, he just wanted to break down her resolve, make her call out for him.

A sharp slap on her ass almost got him what he wanted.

“Ja-” She cut herself off before his name fully slipped out, head dropping to the crook of his neck and stifling the moan bubbling in her throat as she sank her teeth into the skin there which only earned her another slap.

Shit, she was close. At this point, she wasn’t sure if she had bit off more than she could chew.

He seemed absolutely solid, so in control of himself while she struggled, hard.

“C’mon, princess,” he grunted, punctuating the nickname with a snap of his hips, “that’s it, pretty girl, you almost had it. Just say it.”

The mocking strengthened her determination as much as it made that coil inside her tighten, close to the edge.

Her lips moved along his neck, teeth nipping at his skin in an attempt to drag him closer to the edge as well, her hips grinding down on him harder.

It was working, but he wouldn’t show that so easily.

When one of his hands moved in between them, finding her sensitive clit, aching for friction, a whine slipped past her lips, pussy squeezing him so tightly that a groan rumbled in his chest.

“You’re fucking unfair.” She groaned against his neck, a hand grabbing at his forearm to try and pull him away. It was incredibly hot to her how his muscles and tendons moved below the skin and against her fingers.

“How am I being unfair, baby?” He asked, breath heavy as he bit into her earlobe. The way she gripped his cock was making him break slowly but surely, but he’d never let her win this.

“You’re playing dirty, you bastard.”

Javier chuckled, moving his hand away from her clit to wrap the arm around her middle instead, pinning her against him. Angling his hips, he drove into her harder, the slight change in position making him reach deeper, taking note of how she suppressed a noise.

“Say my name, sweetheart, c’mon.”

She shook her head, a hand coming up to grip his hair. Moving his head to allow herself more access, she sucked more purple marks into his skin.

“Never. Not in a million years.”

She could feel him get closer too, now; his breath labored, grunts and moans catching in his throat. Yet his hips still drove up into her at the same brutal pace.

“You know what I like about you?” He grit out, arm tightening around her. “Your pride’s bigger than mine.”

The hand on her hip gave her ass another smack.

“But I’ll fucking break yours.”

Fucking hell. His words shot straight to her pussy, clenching around him.

“You won’t.” She groaned, feeling emboldened to beat him. “I’ll make you sing my name and if it’s the last thing I do.”

His mouth found her neck, mirroring what she had been doing to him, feeling her pulse quicken as her hips stuttered. He was at the brink of an orgasm himself, surprised by how long she managed to resist him, fighting hard for control.

It only turned him on more, that fierceness of hers, the will to make him break and give in.

Because if she wasn’t the one to give in first and doing so, soon, he was the one to lose this fight, and he really couldn’t let that happen.

His fucking ego wouldn’t allow him to.

So he let go of her middle, and as expected, she sat up just a little, bracing herself on the armrest behind him as she changed the angle, bouncing on his cock. Her tits jumped with every movement, right into his face as her back arched and he couldn’t resist the urge to take one hardened nipple into his mouth, groping the other with his free hand.

She ground into him harder, losing her rhythm as his teeth grazed over the bud, tongue soothing the bite and he grunted, feeling her squeeze him.

“Just say it, you asshole.” She whined desperately, teetering right at the edge but willing herself not to fall over it. It was so damn difficult, his cock hitting all the right spots, his mouth on her breast only bringing her closer.

An idea came to her, one hand wrapping around the base of his throat, pushing him away from her chest and back into the armrest. Sweat dripped down his temples, his jaw set again as she looked down on him with lidded eyes.

He looked so fucking good like this, lust clearly on his features now and that fucking cocky smile gone. Eyes slightly widened at her grip around his throat, only applying light pressure on the sides.

He liked this.

“I wanna cum on your fucking cock, Peña.”

She was right there with him.

“Yeah?” He breathed. “Let me feel that pretty pussy, hermosa.”

His hand left her breast to find her clit again, rubbing tight circles into it with his thumb.

That was all she needed to fall over the edge, screaming his name as she did.

“Yes, Javier!” Her hips stuttered, body shaking as she contracted around him, her orgasm hitting her so hard she saw stars dance behind her eyes when she screwed them shut. “Javi, fuck! Yes!”

Her arm gave out, collapsing against his chest and burying her face in the crook of his neck as the waves kept washing through her.

It was all he needed, too.

Grunting her name, his hips pressed up into her as her pussy gripped him tight, pulling his cock in deep before he stilled, his thumb working her through her waves and his.

The sound she wrangled from him made it sound like he was in severe pain, biting into her shoulder so hard it would definitely leave a distinct mark.

She cried out again, his bite hurting her and his thumb on her clit driving her into overstimulation, grabbing at his forearm. He understood, letting go when she left crescent marks in his skin and wrapped his arm around her middle to pull her close.

Silence filled the room, save for their labored breathing, trying to come down from the intense high. His hand traced mindless circles into her skin.

After a moment, he tapped her hip and she shifted, feeling him pull out with a low grunt. She could feel his cum leak out of her, the feeling so vulgar but intoxicating, already missing the feeling of him inside her.

Moving so she was laying half on top of him, no longer straddling him as their legs entangled, she rested her head on his chest and watched him reaching out for the pack of smokes on the table, fishing one out and lighting it.

He took a long drag, expelling the white mist with a long sigh.

“I won.” He chuckled.

She groaned. For a moment she had completely forgotten about the challenge, enjoying the silence between them.

He really couldn’t stop this cocky attitude for even just a moment.

But did she really care, though? The orgasm had been so great, she almost didn’t give a fuck that she lost to him.

Almost.

“Nice try, though, hermosa.” Javier added and she couldn’t help but smile at the comment.

“Know what, Javi?” She said, pushing herself up so she could look him in the face. A hand came up to brush the damp hair off his forehead, carding her fingers through his dark locks. The fire in her eyes had diminished, replaced with tenderness.

They still held that sparkle, though.

“You fucked me so well I honestly don’t give a fuck you won.”

It was meant to dampen his victory just a little, even if it stroked his ego.

“But you should stay the night more often.” She added with a grin.

Her hand came to rest on his cheek, thumb stroking over his cheekbone.

“Good, cause I’m not sure I can just let this little pussy of yours go.”

He pulled her down into a kiss by her chin, more tender now.

Maybe Javier Peña being a cocky asshole wasn’t that horrible.

Certainly not when he fucked her the way he did.

#javier peña #javier peña x you #javier peña x reader #pedro pascal #narcos #javier peña imagine #javier peña smut #pedro pascal characters #fic #my writing #totally not terrified to share this #not at all nooo #pls be nice lmao

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