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fallingintoyourlilaceyes · 7 months

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Playtime´s over (Viserys I Targaryen x servant!reader)

synopsis: King Viserys calls you into his chambers for a favor.

warnings: DUB CON (power imbalance), age gap, very little plot, smut, oral (m recieving), p in v sex, unprotected sex

word count: 1.4k

A/N: This is technically my first smut in a while so please be nice. Also this can be read as a stand alone or as a prologue to my mini-series I could protect you

You are sitting on a blanket with Aemond, a book on one thigh and the six year old Prince on the other. Enjoying the warmth of the late summer sun high in the sky from within the gardens, as you read the Prince a story of old Valyria. It was his favorite place in the entire keep, he had frequently told you, to which you let out a chuckle. Alicent had just recently scolded you for reading those cruel stories to a six year old, but Aemond would not stop pouting and huffing until he saw you pull out the book he wanted. In all fairness you think she is just overprotective of him. It is magnificent how such a ´well-behaved´ child could be so insistent and headstrong at the same time. You shake the thought with a smile. Even in his young age it is clear that Aemond has not many friends as it seems and you are happy to lend him some company whenever he asks. He is such a smart and kind child. You often feel sorry that he and his siblings each seem to share a deep interest with their father, yet the man could not be more uninterest in them. Your voice is quiet as to not interrupt the peace around the two of you, barely heard over the singing birds in the trees and bushes around as a maid approaches you. Interrupting you mid-sentence.

“My apologies, Aemond. It seems like playtime is over for now.” You set the boy down so you can stand up.

“The king demands to see you.” The woman simply says. Her eyes are trained on you with a look of pity in them.

You thank her with a nod. Immediately you can feel the perspiration on your palms and close your eyes to take a deep breath, in the hopes it would make the wish to chew down your fingernails again.

“Are you in trouble?” You hear Aemonds calm but concerned voice behind you. He looked so serious for a child.

“No, of course not. What would possibly make you think that, little dragon?” You put on a smile for the boy again. He doesn´t need to see the nervousness in you at what comes next.

“Whenever my siblings or I talk to my father we get yelled at.” The statement makes you click your tongue in disapproval of the treatment these children experienced.

“Don´t worry, Aemond. I have to leave now, but if you wish to, we can continue our reading in the evening. Hm?” you pick up your tone in the hopes to cheer the young Prince up again. Even if only a bit.

“I would like that.” He gives you a smile back.

“Perfect. I will see you later then.” You make your way towards the Maegor´s holdfast as quickly as possible, without running. Wondering what it would be that he would ask of you today.

Knocking quietly on the King´s chamber doors quietly you get called in in a matter of seconds. Viserys is sitting by his model, giving you some hope that today he had called you for something more innocent. You could not have been more wrong. Unknowing what his intentions for this meeting are, you stand by the closed door, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. You are sure you are not much older than the current queen, when rumors of her visits made their rounds through the castle´s staff.

“Your majesty called for me?” You bow your head in greeting.

“Yes. Come here.” The instruction comes in a calm tone and he doesn´t look up from his model.

“As you wish, your grace.” You go to kneel between his legs without any more words.

His leg muscles tense instantly under your touch as you let your hands rub over his thighs. Every stroke getting them closer to the hardness underneath the soft material of the clothing. Once your fingertips feel his manhood twitch, they waste no time to open the zipper to free his cock from its confines.

The two of you had done this countless times before. It never really got any easier, but you were always sure to find a present along with your moon tea. So, you start placing gentle kisses across his length, from the stones to the leaking tip. Which you grace with little kitten licks.

Viserys groans above you. One of his hands threading into your hair, tugging on it, at the roots. The action pulls a moan from your lips. You let his hand guide you. Your lips close around his shaft, taking him in as deep as possible without choking, hollowing out your cheeks to earn another groan. Viserys´ hand is not gentle as it guides your head up and down on his cock in a steady rhythm. He never had been. You don´t know why you still think it would change. His length twitches inside of your mouth. So you take him deeper, fastening the speed in which you bob your head up and down. It becomes harder to breath and you can feel your jaw starting to hurt slowly but surely. Then you here that moan and feel him twitch again. The telltale sign he is close to finishing. You pray for your knees that he comes quickly and start to play with his sac with the hand that isn´t wrapped around the base of his length.

Suddenly Viserys tugs at your hair again. Pulling you off him. You raise an eyebrow at him, but stay quiet.

“On the bed.” Comes his breathless instruction.

You follow it suit. Slipping the fine dress he had gifted you not too long ago over your head and rid yourself of your small clothes, before laying on your back in the middle of the mattress. Legs spread for him to see your cunny.

The corners of his parted lips go upwards with a huffed chuckle and you see the dilated pupils of those beautiful Targaryen typical lilac eyes travel downwards. Then with a deep inhale from both of your lungs he buries himself deep inside your tight heat. His breath fans over you face as he begins to move, but the way he ruts into your core is anything but romantic. It´s a cold way of satisfying his own needs without any regard for yours. A way to get rid of any stresses.

You make sure to hold on to his shoulders, gazing deeply into his eyes, that are focused on where he disappears inside of you. Soft and breathy whimpers fall from your mouth. Along with his huffs and hisses they are the only sounds in the room. The pace he sets at first is slow. Almost painfully so, with the lack of preparation, but when your hand finds its way between your legs to rub circles into the bundle of nerves sat atop of your cunt it gets easier. The motion sends sparks of pleasure through your body, the velvety walls fluttering around his cock. As a result Viserys picks up the pace with which he drives into you. The lewd sound of skin slapping on skin grows louder.

I doesn´t take long until you bring yourself to finish. Your walls tighten around him and in time with your shaking legs, you hear that telling groan from above you once more.

“Beg for me. Beg for my seed.” The kings breathless voice rings from over you and of course you oblige instantly.

“Please, my king. Spill yourself inside of me. Please give me your seed.” Your voice is high pitched and you look at him with the most needy look as your eyes meet.

With a few more rolls of his hips and a few more honey voiced pleas from your mouth, his forehead rests against your shoulder. You feel his finish paint your insides white, taking a few more breaths to calm down.

He is quick to pull his softening cock out of you and sit up at the edge of the bed, tugging himself into his pants to make himself presentable again. You do the same. Standing up to put your dress back on, with his seed dribbling down your thigh.

“Your majesty.” You curtsy once more when you are done. Closing the heavy door on your way out. Making your way through the corridors, to clean yourself up, before you returned to your proper tasks around the castle.

#king viserys #king viserys targaryen #viserys i targaryen #viserys targaryen x reader #viserys i targaryen x reader #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fic #house of the dragon oneshot

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your-turn-to-role · 1 year

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also. i absolutely adored what lovm did with the pass through fire quote

but then it makes me emotional about the original context, so i have to share that too (minor plot spoilers ahead)

because it wasn't originally to do with the ashari at all. it was from patrick rothfuss' guest character, a blacksmith named kerrek, who helped vox machina fight against the dragon in westruun, and helped keyleth personally through some difficult stuff (he may yet appear on lovm, but given the context of the quote now i doubt we'll get all of it)

and a little after kerrek's episode, patrick rothfuss actually made a legit letter from kerrek to keyleth, with a present inside, and left it with matt until whatever point in the plot she was able to recieve it

which by coincidence was one of the hardest moments in the whole campaign for her

and this letter had marisha legit crying in the episode, because it's just. so beautiful, and so needed. and it goes:

Keyleth,

I write to let you and your companions know that the repair of Westruun is proceeding well. I will not bore you with the details. Suffice to say that our children are well-fed and safe, our elderly and infirm are cared for and comfortable. Without the help of you and yours, this would not be the case.

The folk in charge argue constantly, but that is to be expected, and it is no bad thing. They all want the same good things in different ways. I listen, mostly, and do what I can to make sure that they listen to each other. Without listening, nothing good can happen.

The town... when I say the repair is going well, it is a hard thing for me to talk about. I am not a particularly clever man, and much of this is new to me. When you make a mistake with metal, you can melt things down and start afresh. It is irritating, and it costs in time and soot and sweat, but it can be done. There is a comfort in iron, knowing that a fresh start is always possible. But a city is not a sword. It is a living thing, and living things defy simple fixing. Roots cannot be reforged. They scar, and broken branches must be cut and sealed with tar, and this makes me angry, as it always has, and my anger has no place to go.

It was easier when I was young. I could use my anger like a hammer against the world. I was so sure of myself and my friends and my rightness. I would hammer at the world, and breaking felt like making to me, and I was good at it. And while I was not wrong, neither was I entirely right. Nothing is simple.

I do not work in wood. I am not brave enough for that. There is a comfort in iron, a promise of safety, a second chance if mistakes are made. But a city is more a forest than a sword. No, it needs more tending than that.

Perhaps a city is like a garden, then. So these days, it seems I have become a gardener. I dig foundations in the earth. I sow rows of houses. I plan and plant. I watch the skies for rain and ruin. I cannot help but think that you would be better at this, but circumstance has put both of us in our own odd place. You are forced to be a hammer in the world, and my ungentle hands are learning how to tend a plot of land. We must do what we can do.

Did you know that there are some seeds that cannot sprout unless they are first burned? A friend once told me that. She was... she was a bookish sort. I think of gardening constantly these days. I wear your gift, and I think of you, and I think it is interesting that there are some living things that need to pass through fire before they flourish.

I ramble. You have the heart of a gardener, and because of this, you think of consequence, and your current path pains you. I am not wise, and I do not give advice, but I have come to know a few things: sometimes breaking is making. Even iron can start again. And there are many things that move through fire and find themselves much better for it afterward.

I have enclosed a gift. Once it was a sword, but it has changed. It is a small thing, and silly. Please forgive an old man for his foolishness. Still, I hope it brings you some small comfort.

Kindly, Kerr.

and the present inside the envelope? a ring, engraved with the phrase "I have passed through fire."

#hi i saw a gifset of marisha getting the ring and im emotional again so have the full letter #god patrick rothfuss i know you're a professional writer but how are you so good at this #cr1 #the legend of vox machina #keyleth #kerrek #cr thoughts

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dizzy-after-dark · 4 months

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Cauterized | Steve Rogers

BOOM MIC DROP: SMUT FOR THE END OF THE YEAR! Y'all didn't think I would not post once this year, did you. Well, here it is. I TRIED! Mwah; see you in 2024!

Tags: Angst (not really but yeah), SMUT, fluff

Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x F!Reader (Third Person)

Notes: UHHHHH 18+ BUCKOS; this is a continuation of Ignorant, which is the first part and angsty as FUCK but a personal fave of mine if I do say so myself; been really thinking about finishing my requests from over a year ago for Dinner At Dizzy's on my other account, @dizzydancingdreamer (masterlist linked if you're feeling peckish)

Warnings (what to expect, ig): oral (f recieving), fingering, sex (???), uhhhm lack of descriptive writing from a rusty author, sappiness, swearing, bad metaphors, shower sex, alcohol consumption (BARELY), size kink, over-use of the word "Stevie"

Word Count: 4.6k

She pushes the door closed, turning the shower on lazily. Her muscles ache as she twists the knob all the way to the left. Somewhere, sometime she was told about cauterization. You can seal wounds closed with fire— forcibly fuse the skin back together. She has no cuts. Nothing to fuse. And only hot water. However, maybe stepping into the scalding stream might fix the part of her brain that keeps replaying it all, over and over.

Baby I—

If anything, it might numb her. She would take that too right now. Hence the bottle on the counter, partially drunk and already open. She takes the first swig, the liquid like fuel to the inferno raging in her stomach, burning the rest of her in the process. The taste is acrid— she’s never been much of a drinker. She just wants to forget it all. Setting it down with a clunk, she strips out of grimey shirt, letting it puddle at her feet.

Looking at the material, which at one point was a stark white but will now forever be a dingy gray, she laughs. Not really but, yeah, kind of— one of those half amused huffs, anyway. A pity laugh, for the state of her life. That shirt is practically trash. Even if she had the time, energy, or resources to wash it, there’s no way it’ll ever be the same.

She should just throw it out.

Is she even talking about the shirt anymore?

She kicks it into the corner, hands falling to the button of her jeans, swollen knuckles screaming as she fails a few times to push the little metal circle through the loop.

“Goddamnit,” she mutters to herself, and to the ghosts, and the spider she saw in the corner when she came in but didn’t have the heart to make the latter as well.

She’s already made too many ghosts.

“I, uh, I can help?”

None of those ghosts have ever answered before, though.

Whirling around, fists balling in front of her face, she readies herself in less than a breaths time to send said ghost straight back to the grave—

“Woah, easy there, baby—”

Only to find Steve, his baby blues wide and a tad panicked but his hand nevertheless peeking through the crack of the door, reaching for her. Mind glazing over with confusion and, well, a fair bit of something russian and label-less, she blinks up at him and the damn door. She closed that— she remembers closing it… right?

Her eyes flick down and the fire in her belly kindles a little more.

“Are you kidding me?” She groans, the exhaustion an unwelcome guest in the cavern of her chest.

His boot, right there in the doorway, holding the measly wooden traitor open. She never heard the damn click. Didn’t even bother to listen for it. Rookie mistake, honestly. She can’t even be mad, really.

“Please just let me help.” Steve pushes past the door, both arms now extended towards her, but he doesn’t touch her yet.

He’s waiting. She stays silent. Partly because she has no idea what to say— or what she wants— and partly because he hates it. He absolutely, agonizingly hates when she gives him the silent treatment. She watches his jaw tick, lips pressing together until they go white, and there’s a sick part of her that relishes in the cool satisfaction rushing down her spine.

You made me like this.

But there’s also a part of her that mourns with him when he clears his throat, crystal eyes flooding over, liquid and glassy, and lowers his arms slightly. Not all the way. He’s hopeful, maybe. America’s sweetheart is always hopeful, that’s one of the things she fell in love with him for.

That’s still Steve— her Steve.

“I know—” Steve swallows, “I messed up. I just— you’re hurt, baby. Lemme’ help.”

She huffs— why is it so fucking complicated? Why can’t they just be normal?

She is hurt. Nothing needs cauterizing but there’s no denying her mottled skin, blue-ish under the crappy motel bathroom lights. Her hands throb, joints screaming at her— when she turns to the mirror, she almost gags at the slight bald patch behind her right ear— fuck, that one had really stung. Absolutely ridiculous the way some people fight these days.

Her silence is deafening.

She wants to sob. It’s right there, in the hollow of her throat— she wants to scream. Maybe not at him but in general. She used to live in a penthouse, with all her friends, and the love of her life. Now what? She used to get hurt like this back then too but now it feels purposeless— what are they even doing this for if they have nothing. Have no one. It made sense when she still had him.

Meeting his gaze in the mirror— disappearing a bit into fogged up glass but there regardless— she still has him. Kind of. But she still doesn’t say anything when she turns back to face him. The frown carved into her face feels vile— deep and disgusting and entirely real— but she can’t make it go away. She can’t stop the sniffle, either. Why can’t she just tell him she misses him?

“Fuck.”

It’s mumbled under his breath. The Captain America, standing in some rundown wreck of a place off some lonely highway, is swearing. Because of her. Is this hell? It feels like hell.

But, no, it can’t be, because his hands are so, so gentle as they cup her cheeks, thumbs softly dancing over the bruises, half assessing, half trying. Trying to do what, she doesn’t know. Wipe them away? Commit them to memory? She leans into his touch regardless, conceding ever so slightly. She won’t say it, but he can help. There isn’t a universe in which she would truly deny him.

The first tear that falls isn’t hers, but his, landing on her forehead right before he buries his face in her hair, wrapping those supersoldier arms around her, trying and, well, failing not to crush her in the process. The tenderness in her broken body is worth it, though, because he smells like home, even if tinged with gunpowder and war.

“I am so sorry—” he whispers, heartbeat erratic under her ear, chest heaving for breath— “I am so sorry I brought this on you. You’re hurt and it’s my fault.”

Complicated. She fists his t-shirt as hard as she can— fists in until her hands go numb. It’s not fair how complicated it has to be for them.

Steve didn’t throw her into the fight, didn’t slam his fist into her eye, or rip her hair out by the handful. Steve didn’t even make her come with him when he left; that was entirely her choice. But he did lose his mind a little bit. Power tripped a little too hard. Focused so much on keeping them all safe that he missed the part where he was just supposed to hug her— and that’s what sucked most— but he is now, right?

That has to count for something?

He pulls back and her fingers tighten, steeling, tensing. He can’t go, even if she isn’t sure what they are anymore.

The agony in his eyes when he draws the line from her balled fists holding on for dear fucking life to her own, misty gaze is indescribable. “Baby I don’t know how to fix this. I want to, I—” he clears his throat again and her frown carves even further into her skin, eyebrows drawing together— “I want to so fucking bad.”

He plants his forehead against hers and it aches, the warmth of his skin. “I don’t want to make it worse. I need you to tell me how to help.”

There’s a stinging in her throat where the words simply don’t manifest. What the fuck is she supposed to say? Nothing, at all, really, because she doesn’t even know how to fix her and she’s not mad so there’s nothing to fix… but isn’t there? Isn’t there something between them that desperately needs mending? Isn’t she mad?

Is it anger?

Or is it something much more primal.

No, there are no words she can tell him. She could show him, though. Maybe that will work.

Letting his shirt go, she watches the breath catch in his chest, stuck and frantic. She knows that feeling well— that icy desperation to keep holding on no matter what. But she’s only grabbing his hands, not leaving him, and he’ll see that soon so she continues to drag him towards the stupid, little button that her useless fingers couldn’t seem to undo. In hindsight, maybe they were just waiting for him.

Realizing, his forehead is off hers quickly, eyes seeking hers. “What? I don’t—” She flattens his palms against her stomach, engulfing the button, and he breathes the last word out— “understand.”

Her brows raise, cheeks still on fire but now also burning— yes you do.

“Are you sure?” He asks but there’s a little click— the same one she hadn’t heard earlier— as his boot clad foot kicks the door properly shut, and she’s pretty sure he knows just how sure she is.

All it takes is her thumbs on his, prodding them towards her arch nemesis— damn you, Levi jeans— and the soldier is moving, not rough in his quick actions, but determined. The button is no match for Steve Rogers on a regular day, but today? Now that he has a goal? A starting place? The button may as well have disintegrated under his fingers.

Her own hands fly to his shoulders, clinging to him as he tugs the blasted jeans off her legs, trying the best she can not to topple over with the sheer force of him. Material pooling at her feet, his palms smooth so slowly back up her now bare legs, rising goosebumps in their wake. She hasn’t been touched in ages— she feels kind of like an animal waking up from hibernation, disorientated and hungry.

Grabbing at her hips suddenly, her ass is on the cool countertop before she even has the chance to get dizzy. Spreading her thighs with his own, he works on her bra next— this faded, hole ridden thing that if she wasn’t so engulfed in searing, licking desire, she’d probably be embarrassed about. But it’s gone so soon that she doesn’t have a chance and replaced instead with two, bulky hands that entirely engulf her breasts.

They squeeze her skillfully— with purpose. Thumbs swiping delicious circles around her nipples, flicking this way and that, exactly how he knows she likes it— exactly the way that should have her as a mewling heap in his hold. But she’s not— she’s contained, even as her very skin thrums alive with anticipation. Is this revenge or is it just fucking complicated?

She can’t decide so instead she bites the moan clawing at her throat into small enough pieces to swallow, all the while tuning into something dark that sparks in his ever watchful gaze.

She’s caught— he gets it now.

“Really, baby?” He muses, palming her, squeezing just hard enough to give the touch a slight bite. His tone has her feeling like a deer in his headlights— like a freight train is barrelling directly at her and there’s nowhere to go— and she squeezes her thighs around him, welcoming the collision. “You think I won’t work for it?”

She only blinks at him. Once… twice…

Her panties are dropped somewhere into the abyss, long forgotten with the rest of her clothes, and his knees thud heavily against the tiled floor. Replacing his body, his head now hovers right in front of a different button, golden hair tickling her sensitive skin as he pulls her legs over his thick shoulders. His skin is warm but not as much as his balmy breath which hits her clit, teasing her into a mess, hands curling around the edge of the counter.

Come on, Steve.

But, no, he doesn’t give in to her just yet. First, he turns to her inner thigh, sucking her skin into his mouth with bruising pressure before letting it go with a pop. He peers up— nothing. Moving to the other one, he whispers quick kisses over her sex but never lingers, only biting into her flesh once more once across her mound, teeth almost teasing a whimper from her this time but no, she’s not budging.

That doesn’t mean he isn’t driving her crazy. Inside, she screams— she craves. C’mon baby just give it to me. Outwardly, her hands drunkenly find his hair, tugging at his soft locks. Now, now, now she chants furiously.

He unseals his lips from her thigh, peering up, less dangerous and back to being her ever hopeful boyfriend— is her her boyf— He kisses her folds, spongy lips lingering a moment, rendering her blank and feverish. Angelic— he’s angelic. From under his long lashes he all but begs her, his dark eyes starving and wanting, but his hands are so soft on her hips, massaging deep into her. It’s this mixture of puppy dog pleading and a knowing of sorts— he knows she’s going to cave eventually.

How does he do that?

“Words? Please?”

She only pouts and, again, the switch flips. “Fine.”

The word is punctuated with the warm, wet stripe he licks up her center, flicking his tongue languidly over her clit. For as rushed as he’d started this mission, he’s truly never been one to speed through his meals, preferring instead to devour her slowly— expertly— tasting her thoroughly like he has all the time in the world. Meanwhile her body pulses, teetering dangerously already on the knife-sharp edge of too much and too little as he masterfully carves her out.

Her hands, which had moments ago tried to pull him closer, now use his hair as handles to keep herself from toppling off the counter when he slides her closer to him, burying his face fully into her heat. Heels digging into his back, she watches the spot where his shirt rides up intently, consumed not only by the harsh sucking on her clit but also the tanned, muscled skin peeking out and then disappearing below his own jeans, taunting her. Why hadn’t she taken it off him first?

She doesn’t have time to think much more about it though because he’s ravenous and she may as well be ice cream, sweet and sticky, melting all over him, dripping down the sides of his face and fingers as they begin prodding against her. They tease, pushing into her but not quite far enough— hard enough.

His gaze on her is overpowering— it’s deliberate.

“Y’know,” he speaks against her, the vibrations making her tense, “you can just tell me what you want ‘and I'll do it.”

Her mouth is like sandpaper— her brain, uncooperative. This push and pull is becoming lethal, the next few pokes of his tongue honey slow and spine jolting. Please— she wants to beg. She’s so empty. So, so, achingly empty. Would his fingers even be enough? At this point, it’s as though he would need to crawl into her very chest to fill her up the way she needs to be. How could her words even convey something so needy?

“Anything, baby. Whatever you want.”

They can’t, so they don’t, but for the sounds she refuses to make, he doubles in his own, moaning his frustrations right against her. If he can’t make her say anything, he damn sure is going to make her do something. That’s probably why he finally caves, pushing his fingers in to the hilt, and she was stupid to think they couldn’t fill her, the slight burn of them not at all foreign but definitely intense.

As they bury themselves in her over and over and over again, she bucks against his hand, chasing the start of a little ball of electricity growing in the pit of her stomach, getting higher and higher with every twist of his fingers. Combined with the incessant flick of his tongue— she’s a goner. Stifling the moan, her teeth find home in her lip, biting so hard her mouth gains a slight tang that excites her even more. What’s she even doing?

Wouldn’t it be more fun if she just let loose? Isn’t that what’s been missing the whole time? The fun?

When she sees the glint in his piercing stare— impish despite everything they’ve been through— she gets it. It’s hopeless— she is and they are but they’re together and the fun isn’t gone— she’s done. He earned it.

“Stevie—” she finally cries, animalistic; it doesn’t sound like his name but he must know it is because, even with the intense throbbing consuming her entire body, she can feel his shoulders soften under her thighs— “please don’t stop, I’m so close!”

“That’s it baby,” he coos against her clit, voice raw, compliant as he continues to pump his fingers in time to her squirming, “that’s my girl. I missed that pretty voice of yours.”

At what point the first orgasm turns into a second, she isn’t sure. It’s all one big blur of her whiny moans, wanton and liquid body, and his hushed prayers against her flushed skin, tongue lapping relentlessly against her. More baby; I know you can give me more. She doesn’t so much hear them as she does become them, absorbing them into her skin. That’s it angel— so good, so good for me.

She can feel him drinking in her mumbled, jagged noises, some words but others mere syllables, coaxed out of her by tongue and fingers all the same. Steve— honey— mmph, fuck, right there— oh my— the words pour out now, dam broken beyond repair, and for some reason, or maybe a lack thereof, it spurs her on even more, a freed woman if ever there was one—

“Oh my god, Stevie!”

It’s maddening— he’s maddening.

He’s relentless.

It isn’t until she yanks his still-eager mouth away from her, stomach iron-tense from way too much overstimulation, does he slowly draw his hand reluctantly back from her shuddering body. His other arm unwinds from where it’s been snaked around her knee, anchoring her to him throughout the duration of his worship. Now pushing him upright, holding him just near enough to where she can hear his labored breaths but not feel them, she shivers, cold as ice without his heat.

He stares down at her, unmoving, and her heart jumps in her chest. She doesn’t understand— he’s just standing there while she shudders, breathless. His shirt is stretched, no doubt from her pulling at it, and in noticing the damage she remembers how she’s completely naked and he’s completely not. Exposed doesn’t even begin to touch how she feels.

She wraps her arms around her chest, knees drawing up to tuck under her chin. “Steve?”

She’d forgotten what it felt like to constantly have him next to her— to have his furnace like warmth melting into her skin almost every minute. Now that she’s had her first real taste of him again, she’s de-acclimated to being alone. She needs him.

“C’mere,” she begs, shaking and a bit confused, why isn’t he touching her still, “please, Stevie, come back.”

When her fingers finally swipe against his shirt, barely snagging it, he flinches, coming back to her. “Sorry baby, I didn’t mean—”

She flings herself at him, heart off kilter and erratic in her chest as her lips press against his, swallowing his apologies and hoping beyond anything else that he just catches her, like he always does. He does, kissing her back fervently— reverently. His tongue, tinted with her essence, scoops into her mouth the same way he had been between her thighs. She welcomes the way he takes charge, knowing he holds her against him with every ounce of strength he has.

“—’m sorry,” he pants into her mouth, clearly not satisfied with the success of her attack, “so, so sorry baby.”

He repeats the words deliriously. Presses them into her hair and against her temple, on her chin and both her cheeks. He especially feeds them to her, word for word, against her lips, soft at first and then rough, frenzied. He’s not talking about right now. He’s still back in that apartment; the fallen angel amongst the rubble, wings too broken to just leave it.

It’s not complicated. And it’s not revenge, because she could never make him feel worse than he already does, nor would she want to. So, in between kisses and apologies, she answers.

“I know, Stevie.”

“It’s ok— we’re ok, Stevie.”

“Steve, stop— I love you!”

He stops. He sets her down, bare feet planting unsteady against the ground. He steps back. What?

“Stevie?” She questions, already moving forward, but his arms, sweeping over his head, towing his shirt up and off, halt her in her tracks.

Oh.

This time, when she says his name it's only a breathy moan, fingers searching for his belt loops and hooking him towards her. In the time it takes for her hands to find the button— this one, thankfully, popping open immediately— there must be a god somewhere who didn’t abandon them in the rubble— he’s back on her, one hand carefully threading through her hair, dragging her mouth back to his, while the other pushes the rest of his clothes to the ground.

“I love you, I love— ah, fuck,” he hisses as her hand wraps around him, thumb brushing over his velvety tip.

For the first time, she smiles against his mouth, calm. “Language, Rogers.”

He pulls back, one neat eyebrow flicked up, but there’s humor in his eyes— no more tension. No more worry. Just fun. He leans down, nuzzling his chin down the side of her face, breath fanning her ear. Her hand stutters as it tugs on him, dragging up and down. He’s so hard— it’s been so damn long.

“Thought I was Stevie, baby?” It’s an absent minded tease, blush lips parted even after the fact, glued to the way she touches him.

In turn she watches his face, crowned in a mussed up halo of gold, some of which sticks to his forehead but most falling at every which angle, a product of her thighs sealing themselves around him. She can’t say that she’s never seen him this disheveled but she’ll never get used to it. He’s perfect— she makes him so messy.

Clearly, she hadn’t been the only one enjoying herself, though, if the heaviness of him between her fingers, rutting into her palm is anything to go by. She squeezes harder, testing something, and he groans something almost inhuman against her neck. Guttural. He’s so close already. It fuels her like nothing else, tickling the part of her that just wants to please. She’s making reparations, too. Speeding up, she works him faster. Come on, honey.

“Stevie—” she echoes and the next thing she knows, he’s pulling her off him, pushing her towards the steam which billows out from behind the curtain.

From the moment her feet touch the warm, wet surface of the shower floor, everything is a blur. The water sprays over her harshly, but only for a moment, before he overpowers it with his own, massive body, just as searing against her skin. She registers the slick splat of her back against the wall, a grunt— missed this, baby, and her own feral howl as he slams into her. There’s no waiting, no tiptoeing, only his cock sealing them together furiously once more.

One of her legs is hiked up impossibly far, hinging near his hip where his hand crushes her to him. The other leg holds her up— barely— heel raised, toes splaying for grip as she reaches higher. He’s just so big— so tall and so thick. So impossible to adequately open herself to without him fully lifting her but she wants to try so she does her best to meet his brutal pace, clinging around his neck desperately.

If his fingers had filled her entirely, his cock is almost unbearable. She relishes it, though, the way she can almost feel him in her damn throat with each and every drag. It’s mesmerizing, the way there’s no need for adjustment— for remembering. He knows her body like it’s his own and it makes her drool with pleasure.

The slapping of their skin together proves to be louder than the rush of the water, but not more so than Steve whose mouth is working over time, ladeling praises directly into her ear, soaked, stubbly chin grating deliciously against her temple.

“You look so pretty baby,” he hums, staring mesmerized at their bodies to where he slips in and out of her, “ look at you taking me so well.”

And she does.

It’s a lewd notion, the way she can see exactly where he is inside her by the way her belly ripples with his plunges, but one that makes her gasp nonetheless, spasming around him which is also visible to both of them. Loosening one of her hands from its vice grip on his shoulder, he places it on the exact spot, urging her to feel just how big he is. With every sloppy push and pull, she does feel it, and it sends her reeling.

“See that?” He rasps, and she can only nod, mouth agape enough for some of the water falling off his hair to drip into it.

She swallows it, tongue somehow so, so dry despite everything. Her nerves are on fire, everything so much slower than it should be.

The agonizing pull of his hand on hers, dragging her own fingers under his to toy with her clit.

The little circles that take hours to complete but nurture the current running through her veins regardless.

The fucking torturous in and out of his cock— taunting her, languidly pounding her for what feels like an eternity— she can’t think. She’s in the water but she feels under it, too, foggy and pent up. She just wants to cum—

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna—”

“—Stevie!”

She breaks through the sluggish pleasure into electric and all consuming waves, head falling against the wall as his hips stutter against hers, pumping once, then twice, before falling still. Each time, she clenches harder, babbling something gritty and foul and incomprehensible. Something along the lines of holy fucking shit baby but its blurred with searing, pulsing pleasure.

There’s stars behind her eyes and steam in her nose as he falls against her chest, sopping hair tickling her hypersensitive skin. Him pulling feels like what two exposed wires touching must— all sparky and hot. It’s too much.

“Mmm, careful baby,” she mumbles and he chuckles.

“Of course.”

The rest is truly a lull. Steve doesn’t bother gathering their clothes, only her, carrying her limp body to the bed and carefully setting her under the covers, dripping and all, before joining her. If she weren’t so sleepy, she would have scolded him. But she is and her eyes are refusing to stay open, let alone give him that look. It’s all she can do = to seek his warm skin once more, slithering against his body and rooting herself there.

Cauterized, or something like it.

#Steve Rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #marvel smut #MCU smut #Avengers smut #dizzy is BACK #did you miss me?

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adventuringblind · 7 months

Text

Drive With You Forever

Chapter 12.5: Max and His Stamina

Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc x Lando Norris x Reader x Oscar Piastri

Chapter summary: Lando is a pain and Max takes everyone apart because of it

Warnings: sexual things ahead, very little description os said sexual things because y'all can use your imagination, definate Dom/sub things going on, rope, a lot of rope,

Notes: I wrote this with the intention of shamless smut, and then I ended up with this. I actually really enjoyed just writing the interactions between all five of them.

Previous <-

Masterlist

"This is you're fault Lando."

"Is not!"

"It definitely is."

"Pretty sure we wouldn't be here if you didn't antagonize Max."

"Is Max normally like this?"

"Only with Lando. We're innocent bystanders."

Having one person tied to each bed post is not how they envisioned ending their day. Max is nowhere is sight, and they've been waiting for him in nothing but undergarments for at least twenty minutes.

Three of them had no clue what they'd done wrong. Sure, Max had won another rave, but he'd very clearly said 'punishment' in his text after the race.

Lando had done a stupid thing a whispered in Max's ear while walking past one of his interviews. He'd yet to fess up what he'd said.

Charles is sitting with only one hand tied to the post because he'd done the other three. The other hand still has his phone to communicate with Max.

Consent is still important even if he's not in the room. And he was mildly worried that the female was going to panic that she'd done something wrong.

Oscar had only watched them do things like this and joined in a couple of times when he felt like he understood what was going on. One thing he learned early on is that Lando doesn't do what he's told unless he's in the mood to comply, and Max has less patience for that.

Charles is incredibly patient and can handle Lando. It's always shocking when Oscar sees him piss off the Dutch instead.

Oscar doesn't know where he falls yet. He's been going with the flow of things, and despite being the youngest, he quite likes telling people what to do.

"Os, Max wants me to go over rules with you while me wait." Says the Monegasque who is sitting comfortably with his knees bent.

Oscar shifts his gaze from the Brit to him. This looks much nicer than the one Lando had been receiving. "Didn't we already do this?"

"Yes, but he's being cautious."

"It's because of the Daniel incident." Says the female with no hesitation. She'd told him about it on their way to meet up at Max's hotel room a while back. They'd invited him in on something intimate for the first time, and she thought it best he knew.

They'd had discussions about everything prior. A few times, at least. But when he actually joined the first time, Max was incredibly hesitant. But he understood why and didn't take it as an insult.

"Safe words?" Charles quizzes him.

"Green for good. Yellow for slow. Red for stop." It's simple and universal for all of them. "No choking unless it's light for Charles and Lando. Don't put Y/N on her knees. Also, keep ties loose unless it's Lando. Make sure Lando communicates because otherwise, he'll let himself get hurt..." he thinks for a moment if he's missing anything.

"Anything you want to add to the list for yourself?" Asks the female.

"I've learned I don't like being hit or choked or things like that." He confesses. He's watched Charles and Lando get hit a couple of times and spanking is fun to give less fun to recieve.

"I'll add it to the list and make sure Max know as well."

They communicate so well like this. There is no shame and no secrets here.

"Lando, what did you whisper to Max to put him in a mood?" He asks. Both out of curiosity and for future reference.

"Possibly something about him not being able to take all four of us." Lando gives Oscar a cheeky smile. The other three collectively role their eyes.

"So we're here because Max has a point to prove." Charles shakes his head.

"You're not even completely tied up!" Complains the Brit.

"Max will do the other hand when he gets here, relax."

The girl pulls her knees to her chest. Her look is a bit distant, but not in an incredibly concerning way. “Max is on his way up.”

“Why do you look scared, chéri?”

She shrugs at the question. “Don’t want him to be mad.”

“Luckily for you, I think he’s only frustrated with Lando. He’s doing this as his podium celebration.” Explains Charles. She nods her head in understanding and relaxes a bit.

They hear the door unlock and Max leans in the opening of the of the room. He can perfectly see all four of them. “Everyone alright?”

Despite three saying yes, Charles begins to list off everything they’d talked about. “Os has the rules memorized now, Lando is still being petty, I couldn’t get my other hand done and needed to text you anyway, and y/n thinks you might be mad at her so reassurance is in order.”

Max makes his way over to them and gently takes Charles’ other hand. He uses the leftover rope to secure his once free hand. When he’s done he plants a kiss on Charlie’s head. “Thank you.”

Charles looks at Lando and eyes him smugly.

“So here’s what I’m thinking.” Max crosses his arms and stands at the foot of the bed. “I’m going to start with one of you, then add another, then a third, then Lando.”

“Why am I last?!”

Max shoots a glare at the Brit causing him to shut his mouth. “Because you started this. I could not let you off the rope at all.” Lando casts his eyes downward. Being last is better then nothing.

Max steps next to the female and unties Charles’ knots. He gently tugs them away from then kisses her wrists. “You’re not in trouble and I’m not mad at you.” Max pulls her into him and runs his finger across the bare spots on her body.

She sighs in content. Her body leans into him more just from the contact. Max could spend hours just memorizing her body, but he won’t torcher her. She’s done nothing wrong so there’s no need for it.

He’s got her finishing with just his tongue. The other three boys are now squirming.

Shockingly, Max goes for Oscar next. He unties his wrists and kisses them.

“Maxy, did I do something wrong?” Charles asks. It’s not whining, just confusion lacing his voice.

“Not at all, I just want things to be even, and you have been tied as long.” Max winks at him, and Charles nods in understanding.

"Perfectly honest, I have no idea what we're doing." Oscar trying to look confident but failing miserably. It doesn't help that Max is both tall and broad.

"Letting me take care of you."

Oscar hates it when his knees get weak. But he loves it when Max and Y/N are pulling him apart. Even more so as he gets to reciprocate.

To say that Charles and Lando are struggling would be an understatment. There is much more squirming then there was before.

Soon, Max is repeating his actions. Albeit more sweaty this time.

Charles had done his time and now is having his ropes untied and wrists kissed.

Charles definitely knows what he's doing as he's all over Max the second his hands are free. Charles is much more exploitative with his tongue than the rest. An advantage he uses over the other four.

It's not long until Max is picking him apart as well.

When four are heavily panting and all of them are shocked that Max is going to go another round. He eyes Lando with a cheeky smile. "Have you learned your lesson?"

Lando looks like he might cry if he doesn't have any physical contact in the next thirty seconds. He's begging Max to let him go.

When Max feels satisfied, he repeats his actions a fourth and final time. His kisses the Brit's wrists where he had been rubbing them against the rope.

Max takes his sweet time undoing Lando. His patience is immense. He's showing him just how good he takes all for them. It's meticulous, really.

Max almost collapses after everything. He didn't even know he could go for so long.

Charles disappears from the main room and comes back with towels for everyone. He passes them around and then helps Max move into something more comfortable. Practically putting on clothes for him, them covering him with a blanket. It takes thirty seconds until they can hear him snoring.

Charles sighs and shakes his head. "I hope you're proud of yourself, Lan."

Lando is still on the floor, catching his breath. He gives a thumbs up to show that he is, in fact, very proud.

Charles knows the routine and makes sure his three younger counterparts are taken care of. The female doing the same for him after she's done in the bathroom.

She hates it, but they'd learned their lesson after her first UTI.

Oscar and Lando are curled up next to Max. They leave no room on the bed for the other two.

"Max should start booking his own hotel rooms." She whispers over to Charles. "Maybe then we'll have a bigger bed."

Charles just laughs and drags her to the couch. It's not ideal, but it works.

Soon, the five are asleep. Much to the displeasure of a certain tall Australian who'd been trying to get a hold of any of them.

Next ->

Tags: @styles-sunflower @purplephantomwolf @boiohboii @reblog-princess-blog @jayda12 @faithm120601 @eugene-emt-roe @lpab @yaaadii @80sloverry @spongebeck3101 @eviethetheatrefreak @chanshintien @vellicora @hollie911 @pretty-little-bunny382728

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harryspet · 2 years

Text

butterfly kisses | p.parker

[Warnings] dark!grey!peter parker x reader, innocent!little!reader, daddy!caregiver!peter, dominant x submissive, blackwidow!reader, avengers compound/young avengers au, ddlg, age regression, oral sex (female recieving), dubcon!! sex, mental manipulation, reader has ptsd, grooming?, unprotected sex, little editing

A/N: [model in banner is @/enchanted_noir, gif credit to @/defendingwarrior]

In which Peter finds out your little secret and takes advantage.

word count: 5.3k

taglist: @cherienymphe @lovelynerdytraveler @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @what-is-your-wish @brattypeony @hermayonegg-blog @buckysugar @mischiefmanaged011 @visintaes @watercoolerpaint @disaster-rose @slutforsebstan @doozywoozy @oneoftheprettynerds @xoxonotme @winterbuckystan1917 @simpformarvelmenandwoman @hallecarey1

main masterlist

Yelena was practically unstoppable, giving both Bucky and Sam a run for their money. She was faster than them, leaving them spinning whenever she rushed past them. They thought they had her at one point, Bucky’s vibranium arm wrapping around her neck. She was quick to bring her elbow back into his chest and then her fist to his groin. Bucky doubled over but Sam quickly approached with fists raised. She seemed to land all her punches but also take each one that Sam landed with the most grace you’d ever witnessed.

She tried to trip him, kicking her legs behind his own, but he brought her down with him. They rolled together before he had her pinned beneath him. She thrusted her lower body up, weakening his stance, before grabbing his own arm, pushing it against his chest and pushing him into the mat. As Sam’s head hit the ground hard, he’d clearly accepted defeat.

“The groin shots are cheap, Belova!” Bucky was still reeling in pain. She eyed you, a tired smirk on her face, as she took in her victory.

“It’s only fair. You’ve got a hundred pounds on me and I’ve got the ability to kick you in the balls,” You smiled at her words, watching as Yelena helped Sam off the ground.

You heard footsteps beside you and soon you were looking to your left as Peter Parker claimed the space beside you, “Did you see that?” The question became rhetorical as you noticed his wide eyes and the way he was staring at Yelena, “That was just the third round. So far Yelena’s in the lead.”

“Damn,” Peter cursed though it wasn’t very intimidating on his lips. You only really saw him as the kind, sweet guy who charitably helped you and Yelena adjust after moving to the new compound, “Are you gonna go next?”

You instantly shook your head although you realized your answer might seem strange considering the sports bra and leggings you were wearing. You’d put on workout clothes but hadn’t quite gotten the courage up to train yet, “Yelena is way better hand to hand than me,” It wasn’t a lie but you’d spent your entire life training hand to hand. You grew up in The Red Rom just like she had and were trained by the exact same people. You’d gone toe to toe with Yelena as well and you used to be able to hold your own with her.

The look on Peter’s face was curious, like he wanted to know more, but he didn’t press the specific topic, “I was gonna box and I’m in need of a sparring partner if you’d like to help me out,” That didn’t give you much room to turn him down so you nodded hesitantly.

You hadn’t told anyone, only Yelena vaguely knew how much you were frightened of the training room. This place wasn’t at all like the Red Room, you weren’t being beaten or mind controlled into submission. Despite all that, you were afraid of going into survival mode and never being able to escape it again.

“It’ll be low pressure, I’m way less intense than those guys,” Peter continued, placing a hand on your shoulder, as if he sensed your unease, “Plus, I need way more practice fighting without the webs. I get so used to being in the air sometimes that I forget how to manage on my feet.”

You followed him to the wall on the far right that held all the equipment. You eyed a set of white, 12 ounce fighting gloves but Peter stopped you before you could grab them, “First, jump rope,” He held two sets of jump rope in his hand. One set black and the other green, “What color?”

“I like green,” You admitted and that seemed to amuse him.

“Y/N!” You heard your name shouted across the room. You turned to see Yelena wrapping a towel around her neck, water bottle in hand, “I’m gonna go pass out but movie night later with Kate?”

You raised your thumb, “Enjoy your nap, I’ll see you later!”

“Enjoy Peter, I’ll see you later,” She winked very badly before she turned on her heel.

You turned back to Peter, your face warm with embarrassment, “She’s funny,” Peter commented.

“When she’s not being annoying,” You responded, taking both handles of the rope and stretching it out before you, “Annoyingly clever and annoyingly good at everything.”

Peter narrowed his eyes, “I heard Miss Nat recommended you both for positions in the new Avengers initiative.”

You shrugged, “So?”

“So, that means you’re probably annoyingly clever and good at everything too. You just haven’t shown everyone yet.”

“Maybe so,” Those words were all you’d give up to him. He probably had a point but this environment didn’t really allow for deep thinking for you. You thought you might turn around at any moment and see rows and rows of brainwashed agents behind you.

You followed his lead and his pace as he began to skip the rope. You weren’t in your best shape, you could feel it already, but you were keeping up. At first, you regretted choosing to stand directly in front of him but the eye contact slowly became less awkward, “This is kinda easy, Peter” You admitted.

“How. Are you. Speaking. So Easily?” Peter spoke through gasping breaths. Soon, you were increasing your pace as you felt you could go faster. You ended up going way faster than Peter, spinning in circles, as you tried cool tricks.

Peter was trying to keep up with your pace but eventually he had to stop, holding on to his knees as he tried to catch his breath. You slowed down soon after, not wanting to be any more of a show off, “So I was right,” He decided, “You’re good at that.”

You hated the work you used to do but you were reminded of how much you liked the adrenaline rush that came with being physically active. You were far from how you used to be but perhaps the world didn’t need another trained killer, just someone trying her best.

After your warm up, you and Peter went on to actual boxing. You went back and forth with one person holding the punching mitts while the other practiced combinations. This exercise reminded you of the time you lost to one of the other widows in a sparring match. You were taught the importance of being fast on your feet so your opponents blows can’t land effective blows as well as how to land an effective blow despite having a short reach. She made you chase her around the mat, exhausting you, so she could overtake you.

The punishment for the loser was always for every other widow to form a line and one by one land a punch to the loser’s stomach. You remembered the different colors of bruises that your stomach turned and how your mouth tasted like blood for days. The times when you were forced to hurt someone else were even more imprinted in your mind.

Peter realized you weren’t giving it your all, your mind clearly having gone elsewhere, “Hey, hey,” He put down his hands, closing the gap between you. As he came closer, and despite the kind look on his face, your anxiety went through your roof, “What’s wrong? That was good!”

You nodded, “Yeah, I-I just got distracted . . . sorry.”

“That’s okay. You wanna take a break?” You were already taking off your gloves.

“I think that’s enough for me today,” You spoke curtly, stepping away from him. You knew you’d start hyperventilating soon and you didn’t want anyone to see the person you turned into when you were stressed, “Thanks for this, P-Peter!”

His concerned eyes were on you as you walked, a little too fast, away from him.

“Yelena! I told you I didn’t want to watch this!” You pushed her shoulder as she maniacally giggled. After a jumpscare, you’d completely spilled your bowl of pretzels and M&M’s which Kate was now on the floor cleaning up.

“What? That wasn’t even scary!”

You didn’t understand how a movie about a party clown killing a bunch of school aged children wasn’t nightmare material. Kate clearly didn’t like the movie either but she wasn’t nearly as skittish as you, “I’m picking next time,” Kate announced, “Something we would all actually like.”

“No fun,” Yelena pouted, rolling herself off of your bed. You all rotated who would host movie nights and tonight it took place in your room. You were always an accommodating host, having crochet each of the girls their own special blankets, and lined your dresser with bowls of their favorite snacks. Fairly lights flicker above your bed but the cozy nature of your room served as a sharp contrast to the movie you watched on the screen mounted across the room.

“I want something romantic,” You argued, “Maybe a rom com or a historical romance like Pride and Prejudice.”

Yelena rolled her eyes.

“How about a romantic thriller?” Kate asked you, ignoring the blonde assassin’s usual behavior. You nodded eagerly, “Okay, cool. I’ll do some research!”

“I think it’s time for me to turn in,” Yelena faked a yawn.

Kate grabbed her arm, dragging her towards the door, “C’mon grumpy. Night, Y/N!”

You waved her goodbye, hearing Yelena shout as she was dragged out of the room, suddenly chipper again, “Night, Y/N!”

You enjoyed spending time with your friends especially now that you and Yelena had become so close to Kate. When they were gone, you missed their company but you knew you needed your nights to yourself. You began your nightly routine, switching the TV from the credits of a horror movie to the Disney logo.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Lock bedroom door, please,” After hearing the click of the lock, you released a deep breath, “And run a bath, please.”

You cleaned up any remnants of your friends, folding up their blankets and placing them inside the ottoman near your couch. You kept all the tools for your regression in a secret compartment of your closet. You knew it was unlikely that someone would go rummaging through your personal belongings but you liked the security of F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s system.

Picking out pajamas for yourself, you chose a pink, care bear onesie and pink socks. You laid it out on your bed before getting undressed. When you finally got to sink into the bath, you felt the stresses of the day melt away. It was a bubble bath, of course, and you loved the mindless task of constructing figures with them and giving yourself mustaches and crowns.

You were already slipping into your headspace. You’d desperately wanted to be here especially after training with Peter.

After your bath, you were now trying to practice your skin care in front of the mirror. For years, you barely looked at yourself in the mirror, thinking it would be easier to live with yourself if you dehumanized yourself as much as possible. It was rare that you’d let your eyes wander to your lower stomach where you could see the straight incision scar that traveled from beneath your belly button to your public area. Your own exposure therapy didn’t seem to be working as tears sprung in your eyes everytime.

You left the bathroom, deciding that you’d braid your hair into a protective style without a mirror. You dressed in your pajamas, grabbing your favorite stuffed animal, a green frog, and burrowing yourself into your sheets. Tinkerbell was playing on the television and at the end of the movie, when Tinkerbell helps bring spring to the mainland, almost always helped sink you into your headspace even deeper.

It was the middle of the night and you should’ve been sleeping but you had a craving for ice cream. You’d set a rule that you’d always stay in your room when you were in little space but little you often had a mind of her own. You padded to the door, softly asking Friday to open the door, before you checked if the coast was clear. In your pink socks, you tiptoed to the kitchen, holding Prince Naveen close to your chest.

The compound was quiet and you assumed each of the other Avengers were either fast asleep or keeping to themselves. You never knew Tony Stark but you were quite grateful for his technology … and his money. You weren’t sure what kind of life you’d be able to make for yourself if you didn’t have this opportunity.

You rummaged through the freezer, finding a half-eaten container of sherbert ice cream. The color was pink like your onesie so it was a no brainer that you’d choose this to dig into. You shut the freezer before finding a big spoon in one of the drawers. You climbed onto the kitchen counter, making yourself comfortable, as you began to dig in.

“Y/N?” You perked up to see a brown eyed boy staring at you from across the kitchen. He was dressed in a compression shirt and sweatpants, the former highlighting an extremely muscular chest and arms. His figure was even more exaggerated as he crossed his arms. He grinned at you, taking in your appearance, “Is this something Yelena made you wear?”

You frowned, confused, “I’m Love-a-lot Bear.”

Peter looked even more confused than you, “Oh . . . and who’s this guy?” He came closer and you felt a bit annoyed that he was interrupting your ice cream eating. You scooped a bite into your mouth, kicking your legs in happiness as you tasted the deliciousness.

You looked down at the frog stuffie sitting beside you, “Prince Naveen. He got turned into a frog but I’m taking care of him.”

“Like in that movie …” He raised an eyebrow.

You nodded, “Princess and the Frog. Have you seen it?”

“Once, I think.”

“I’ve seen it about …” You calculated it in your mind, “Fifty-four times. I can quote it word by word. Do you want to hear? The Evening Star is shining bright, so make a wish and hold on tight, there's magic in the air tonight-” You began to sing but Peter shushed you as your voice got louder.

“You’re gonna wake everyone up,” He whispered and you looked down, cross eyed at the finger that was now pressed against your lips. You nodded and he slowly removed it.

“Oops,” You whispered, “Why is everyone sleeping when there’s ice cream to eat?”

“Y/N … did something happen to you?”

You shrugged, other more pressing things occupying your thoughts, “I don’t think so … I just wanted ice cream. I better get going because I left all my other stuffies and they can get into trouble when I’m not watching them. Plus, I’m watching all the Tinker Bell movies.”

You hopped off the counter, “Do you want to come?” You felt like you could trust him and that’s why you wrapped one of your hands in his. He didn’t answer with words but he followed you, grabbing your frog that you almost left behind, as you led him to your room, “What’s your name?”

“You don’t remember?” You looked at him with innocent eyes, “Peter, my name’s Peter.”

“Like Peter Pan?” You smiled.

“Yeah, like Peter Pan.”

Peter paid close attention as you introduced him to each one of your stuffed animals. Each one had a name and a short backstory. You told him how you liked to get a new one every time you were in the city. Before he saw your room, Peter never would’ve guessed you’d like any of this stuff. You were quieter and more humble than Yelena but Peter knew you were just as strong. He wasn’t sure why you were acting this way but he wouldn’t deny a chance to get closer to you.

You also explained the entire Tinker Bell franchise to him, introducing him to every character and the politics of Pixie Hollow, “Did you grow up watching these movies?”

You shook your head, yawning, before you rested your head on his shoulder. The two of you sat closely on the couch, your legs sprawled over Peter’s lap, “I didn’t get to be smaller… for a long time. I like being like this, Peter.” Of course you weren’t watching Disney movies growing up as a little girl in the Red Room, Peter suddenly realized. Peter’s mind was reeling, not truly understanding how you seemed to be a completely different person.

You fell asleep soon and Peter knew he couldn’t spend the night here. He couldn’t risk someone seeing him coming out of your room and he certainly didn’t want the other version of you waking up with him in the bed. This version of you didn’t seem to recognize him so would you even remember he was here?

Peter carried you to your bed, tucking you in, and placing your favorite frog in your arms. He held your cheek in his hands, feeling the soft skin there, and admired the features on your face. He liked you before he’d known just how innocent you could be. He imagined your hand in his again, he could still feel the softness of your hands and the warmness in his heart.

Peter wanted to grow to love you.

The next morning, Peter was working in the lab with Bruce. He’d skipped breakfast, not sure if he was ready to face you after what happened last night. You’d gone from sparring partners to cuddle buddies so quickly that Peter was worried he’d imagined the entire thing last night, “Mr. Banner, sir?”

The man looked up from his laptop, “Yeah, Peter?”

“What do you know about trauma responses?”

“I’m not a psychologist, Peter,” He folded his arms, his eyebrows scrunched on his forehead.

“But you’re a genius, right?”

Bruce gave him an amused look, “Why are you thinking about trauma responses?”

“Well … would it make sense for someone who went through a traumatic event … or had a traumatic life, for them to sort of revert back to a younger age.”

“Age regression?” Peter nodded as Bruce caught on, “I’d consider it a coping mechanism maybe for illnesses like PTSD. I’ve seen it used as a therapy technique. It allows the person to go back to an earlier state that may have been less traumatizing for them. I imagine this could be voluntary or involuntary depending on the case.”

Peter sat with his words for a moment, “And how do you think someone could . . . help another person that’s age regressing.”

“If it’s a good coping mechanism that’s working for them, I imagine any kind of support would be good. Being there for that person, however they need. Hopefully they get outside support from a mental health specialist for whatever is causing the regression,” Peter nodded, “You’ve met someone like this.”

“Uhm . . . yeah,” Peter answered, “Someone I met in the city while playing Spiderman. It’s not a big deal. I’m just curious.”

Bruce didn’t push the subject further.

Your work was interrupted by Kate knocking on the glass door that led into the room. Both you and Yelena were standing behind her and you seemed to be laughing and talking together, “Pete, we’re going to the city! You coming?” Kate shouted through the glass.

“You all have got a big mission tomorrow,” Bruce warned, not looking up from his laptop.

“We’ll probably be back before late,” Peter stood from his seat, a mischievous look on his face, “No worries.”

Bruce hummed as if he wasn’t sure that he believed the young Avenger.

“I’m sorry I ran out of training so fast,” Peter was shocked to hear you say. You were sitting beside each other on the train, an awkward situation that Yelena and Kate had arranged themselves, “I get overwhelmed sometimes.”

“Right,” Peter nodded nervously, “It’s okay. I get overwhelmed sometimes too, you know.”

“Really?”

It really seemed that you hadn’t remembered him being with you last night. Peter half expected to see you in a onesie again, chatting away about Disney movies and desserts again. Instead, you were dressed like a normal, twenty-something who was going to the city with her friends.

“Yeah, sometimes I’ll see something or hear something that reminds me of my Aunt … or Mr. Stark, and it doesn’t matter what I’m doing, I just feel like I’m gonna hyperventilate. Like I can’t get air properly into my lungs and I start sweating … and I just get irritable and not fun to be around. And when it’s over, I just feel embarrassed.”

Something flickered in your eyes, something like understanding, “I get embarrassed too. I suppose it’s just a chemical thing. Fight or flight, I mean. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“You’re probably right,” Peter’s smile was weak, “It’s just hard losing people.”

You nodded in agreement, “It’s hard not having anyone to lose.”

Peter wondered if you remembered the family that you were taken from. Peter even wondered if you considered looking for them, “Friends are just as important as family sometimes. It’s good that you have Yelena and Kate.”

“That’s true. Maybe we should be better friends, Peter,” Peter’s eyes turned to you quickly, a bit of wonderment on his face, “If you want, I mean.”

“Hell yeah,” Peter spoke a little quickly but he was encouraged by the warm smile that grew on your face, “I have places around Queens I want to show you guys.”

Peter showed you all where he grew up and the four of you enjoyed sandwiches from Delmar’s for lunch. Next, Peter wanted to show you guys his favorite part of Queens. The museums. Initially, Yelena took a hard stance that going to museums would be boring but even she was entertained by the cool exhibits at the science museum Peter showed you around.

You and Peter talked so much. Much more than either of you expected. You were practically glued to his lip just the same way Kate was always glued to Yelena.

You went to an art museum next, joining an already established tour group in the middle of their own tour. Peter watched you walking around the gift shop in wonderment at all the handmade knick knacks that were for sale in order to support the museum. Peter approached you, a gift bag in hand, “I got you something.”

“What?” You blurted out, confusion evident in your features, “You don’t need to-”

“Just look,” Peter pulled out the miniature figurine he’d just purchased. It was of a small green frog sitting underneath a red mushroom for shade.

Your eyes widened, “Oh, Peter!” You took the figurine carefully in your hands, your voice going up several octaves as excitement filled you, “It’s so beautiful! Look at the little mushroom! How did you know I loved frogs?”

Peter lied, “I just thought you’d like it.”

“You really didn’t have to. I don’t deserve-”

“You do,” Peter assured you, “Keep it, please. It’s for you.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck as you hugged him, “Thank you,” The way his hand pressed into your back sent shivers through you.

“Are you gonna take good care of it?” Peter knew his words came out slightly patronizing and he could tell he might’ve embarrassed you slightly but you nodded shyly in response.

“I will, I promise.”

When Peter knocked on your door a few nights later, the compound was quiet. All that he could see in the dark hallway were sparkling lights shining beneath your doorway. When the door opened, he was glad to see Smaller you, “Peter Pan,” You greeted him, your voice soft and sleepy, “Hi.”

“Hello, little one,” You looked pleased with the nickname, “Or should I call you princess?”

Peter closed the door behind him, taking in the fact that you were only in a white t-shirt, pale blue panties and fuzzy socks, “Both,” You angled your head at him, “But I’d like to be a fairy princess.”

“I should’ve known.” There was something so alluring about being with you in this state. It was like being with you at your most vulnerable state and Peter liked being the only one who knew about Smaller you, “What have you been doing up so late?”

There was no Disney movie playing tonight but F.R.I.D.A.Y. was playing a soft melody of classical music. Peter wondered why you’d made that choice. You grabbed his hand, bringing him over to your own desk to show him what you’d been working on, “Drawing,” You answered, showing him the array of papers, pushing the scatter crayons out of the way, “Look at these, Petey. Look.”

Two of the photos were quite familiar. One was a drawing of a small frog sitting beneath a mushroom and the other was two people standing together near what he assumed was an art exhibit. The girl was wearing a plaid shirt just like she had the other day and the boy was wearing a black jacket.

“It’s me and you,” Peter said.

“It is?” Your doe eyes looking up at him threatened to make him melt there on the spot, “Will you take me there?”

“Of course,” Peter agreed, “We’d look so cute together.”

“Yeah,” You beamed, “But I’d wear a pretty dress.”

“And I’d look like a frog in comparison. It would be perfect.”

“Don’t say that, Petey,” You squeezed his hand, “You look like . . . can I tell you a secret?”

Peter nodded and you motioned for him to lean down so you could whisper in his ear, “I think you like a handsome Prince.”

Peter chuckled at that, “Do you?” You nodded and Peter whispered into your ear next, “I won’t tell anyone your secret.”

You looked away shyly. You showed him the rest of the pictures and Peter encouraged you to put all the crayons back in the proper spot back in the carton.

“Are you ready for bed yet?” Peter asked you, “It’s getting really late.”

You frowned, “I don’t like sleep. Can we stay up? Maybe we can play pretend?”

“Why don’t you like to sleep?”

You just shook your head, letting go of Peter’s hand, so you could rummage through your closet and find something else to do, “We could play a card game!”

Peter faked a yawn, walking over to your bed, “I’m really tired, Y/N. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Or a board game!”

“I’ll just sleep and you can play a game. I have some special sleepy dust I got from a fairy friend of mine. It’s gonna help me sleep,” Peter climbed into the fluffy white sheets of your bed, knowing your words had definitely caught your attention, “I guess you won’t need any, princess.”

Peter heard your feet pad over to the bed, “You have a fairy friend?”

“Yeah. I went to outer space once and I met one,” Peter shrugged, “On their planet, lots of princesses and princes have trouble sleeping because they have nightmares.”

“Oh,” The look on your face was doleful, “I get bad dreams like all the time. Would it work on me?”

“C’mere and I’ll show you,” Peter patted the spot next to you. You were hesitant as you climbed in the bed with him, “Lay down on your back for me.”

You did as he said, laying on your back with your head resting against a pillow, “And close your eyes for me, little one.”

“But I’m scared-” Peter pressed his hand to your waist, looking up and down your body. Being so close to you with so little clothing … Peter’s idea turned darker than he originally intended it to be. He was helping you, that meant he could help himself a little too.

“I’m here, don’t worry,” As you slowly close your eyes, Peter took the opportunity to let his hands wander even further, “I’m going to sprinkle the dust over you now. Keep your eyes closed.”

Peter could feel you growing slightly impatient, “Petey, I don’t feel anything yet-”

“Of course you can’t feel anything yet, silly. I haven’t activated it yet,” Peter parted your legs, climbing over your body and settling between your legs, “I want you to call me something, okay? To help the fairy dust work.”

“What is it?”

“Call me Daddy.”

“But you’re not-”

“I am, I’m taking care of you, right?” You nodded, “Then that’s what you have to call me. Especially for the dust to work. Understand?”

“Okay … okay, Daddy,” The word couldn’t have sounded any better on your lips. Peter’s hard-on was already pressing against the fabric of his boxers. His fingers travel beneath your panties, softly feeling your folds. Before you could say another word, Peter’s lips were pressed to yours, swallowing your concerns and then eventually your whimpers.

Peter made his way down to your breasts, pulling your shirt up so they were exposed. He attacked the sensitive buds with his tongue, which seemed to bring you even more pleasure than the gentle fingering of your clit. He could feel you growing wetter, leading him to his fingers traveling to your sensitive hole.

“You’re so beautiful, princess,” Peter said as he kissed over your stomach, including the scar that brought you so much anguish, “Daddy’s gonna take care of you. Make you real sleepy.”

When Peter first slid your panties to the side and pressed his mouth to your hole, your eyes shot open, “Stay still, little one,” Peter spoke with his mouthful. You tried your best not to squirm as the touch brought you an overwhelming new feeling of pleasure.

You wanted to smile, to laugh, and to scream all the same time. It was his softness and wetness pressed against your own softness and wetness. He kissed you down there in a way that was difficult to describe but you could feel a slow build starting in your toes till it all completely rushed to your head. Your body was experiencing waves of pleasure and you were glad when he removed his mouth so you weren’t tortured further.

Peter watched you ride at the orgasm. He pulled down his sweatpants and boxers with urgencies before grabbing your arms and pinning them above your head. He pressed his tip against your interest, his eyes looking darkly into yours as he slowly pushed inside, “Daddy,” You winced, “P-Peter – Daddy, it hurts!”

“I know, princess,” Peter grunted, “You can take it all, I know you can.”

Peter was right, you somehow stretched around him and that feeling of tearing soon subsided. Now, all you felt was completely full and completely at his mercy. You were trapped beneath him which meant he could set the pace for how fast he wanted to go. You started to only think of him inside you, of that primal pleasure that he was unlocking and the complete warmness that filled your skin.

“Oh, you feel fucking amazing,” Peter pressed his forehead to yours so he was as close to your as possible. You felt his own eyelashes fluttering against yours, “You feel so good. Tell Daddy you love it.”

“I–” A hard thrust, “Love it, Daddy. I-I love it.”

You were so tight. Impossibly tight. He had to remind himself to not spill over to fast and he slowed his pace but fucked you even harder. When he felt you tightening around him, he felt safe in releasing inside of you.

Your eyes closed as you tried to catch your breath. Peter fell beside you, and just like he’d promised, you felt like you could sleep for the next few days. Peter pulled the comforter over your body, pressing himself into your tired figure. He admired you closely, his nose rubbing against yours as his lips hovered above your own.

“I sleepy … Daddy …”

“Goodnight, little one.”

Peter laid there until dawn and all he could think about was how pretty you looked when you came.

#Dark Fic #dark fics #dark peter parker #dark!peter parker x reader #peter parker x black!reader #black!reader #little space #yelena belova #kate bishop #peter parker #dark!spiderman #mcu smut #peter parker smut #avengers smut

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valentiyne · 7 months

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𝗅𝗂𝖺𝗋 ❀ 𝗅𝗎𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗆𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌

Luke Hemmings x Fem!Reader Summary: Requested! Luke goes M.I.A for the second leg of their world tour, sparking a one sided tear in his relationship Warnings: Sappy Luke & happy ending I promise :-) Word Count: 1.3k (not proofread) Copyright © 2023 Valentiyne. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

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Luke Hemmings had a secret.

Not a small one-He didn't eat the last of my leftovers, nor did he use my expensive face wash in the shower. His secret was something his heart couldn't keep any longer. He'd been away on tour for 3 months now, and every night the only updatesI'd recieve about him through the boys.

"Mikey, you gotta tell me what's going on with him", I plead into the phone, biting nervously at my nails.

'Y/n, I have no idea.. I'm sorry." Im met with yet another click and I groan in frustration

I had begged each of them to tell me what's going on, all of them shrugging their shoulders or brushing off my question. I was one phone call away from hopping on the next international flight available and causing a scene at soundcheck.

"Hello?", I crammed my phone into the nook of my neck and shoulder as I heard shuffling on the other line. I stood in front of the coffee table, cleaning up the mess from the cheese and crackers I scarfed down while watching their newest interview. Luke seemed so out of focus- the boys having to nudge him to snap out of it and answer questions thrown his way.

"-oh you know what I mean", I heard a woman giggle from the other side of the phone as well as Luke's wholesome laugh. Pulling my phone away quickly, I scan the screen at the Caller ID to confirm that it indeed was my Luke calling me.

"Luke? Hello?", I try again, ultimately putting the phone on speaker to hear better. I was trying to ignore the uneasiness in my stomach forming, placing the crumby plate back down on the table before I sat down on the couch to steady myself.

"I mean she really has no idea about any of this", he says cooly, his voice speaking a little louder. I heard the woman with him laugh once more before speaking,

"Does she even know you've been in town for a couple weeks now?"

My heart drops, putting the phone on the coffee table in front of me, I bounce my legs up and down before slamming my finger down to end the call. It was one thing for him to be lying to me- but to cheat?

I cross my legs on the couch, ignoring the numerous calls from Luke that started to pour in. I couldn't stop laughing to myself- laughing about the fact I was stupid to think he'd casually be gone three months without contacting me once.

My eyes wander over to the display of rewards that littered the shelves, each one I can name the exact date and album they were granted for. I stood by his side since the release of their very first EP, recorded in his childhood bedroom. I stared at the photographs, a moment in time that was perfectly capturing our happiness. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the walls, not even when the front door swung open and a sweaty Luke stood in the doorway.

"Baby?", his tone is soft and sincere, nothing like the Luke that I overheard on the phone. I don't bat an eye towards him, my jaw clenched as he dropped his bag and moved closer.

"Baby please, look at me?", he steps in front of me now, crouching down to meet my dark eyes. He gives a sheepish smile before putting his large hand against my cheek,

"How much did you hear", sighing as he now pulls his hand to his hair now, waiting for any kind of response from me.

"When did you get back?"

He stares at me for a moment, trying to put on a shocked expression on his face. I stare at him now, my eyes meeting his baby blue ones.

"I got back on the 1st." He replies slowly, almost as if he's catching himself in a lie. Today was now the 13th- of February.

"Were you going to miss Valentine's Day too?", my voice is shaky, mentally beating myself up as I told myself I wasn't going to cry.

He pulls me into a tight hug, inhaling my scent for a moment before hoisting me up and carrying me towards our shared bedroom. The furniture we picked out together, stopping into four different stores before we found the exact materials to make it our home.

"No. Baby listen to me. Im going to make this up to you okay? Tomorrow morning I want you to dress up pretty like you always do and meet me at that resturant you love- the one on 21st street okay?" He whispers into my ear, placing me down on the bed slowly.

"Who is the girl?", I look towards the floor, watching him rub his eyes tiredly with a sigh.

"It'll all make sense tomorrow, okay?"

I give a mere nod before turning away from him and pulling the blankets closer to myself.

The resturant appeared closed on the outside, the February air littering my thighs with goosebumps as I look around for any indication that Luke was already here. I spotted what I thought was Michael's Tesla in an alleyway, but I brushed it off thinking it was someone else's. We didn't talk all morning, his side of the bed was empty when I woke and I didn't put up a fight about it this time. He held me all night, not loosing his grip no matter how many times I tried to push him away.

"Are you inside?" My fingers move slowly, having the push harder on the screen to get my cold tips to be detected.

He reads the text, not bothering to respond. I let out a large sigh and push past the revolving doors, spinning around until I'm met with the hostess. She gave me a nervous smile before leading me towards the back of the empty resturant, turning behind her to look me in the eyes numerous times.

The sound of plates clattering and people talking caught my attention, my eyes averting their gaze to the long dinner table. There, sat the boys, their companies and close family friends. I stood in confusion before Michael smacked Luke's arm quickly, causing him to turn around and face me.

"Y/n", He was breathless, staring down at me with a goofy smile on his face before he finally put one foot in front of the other. Reaching down, he grasped my small hand and dragged me to the front of the dinner table, his hands sweaty and body shaking.

"Luke what's going o-"

"Shh, please don't talk or Im going to forget everything I memorized and start crying" He laughs softly and I peer behind him, taking note of the numerous phones pointed towards me. I give his a confused look, my eyebrows raising as he takes my hand again.

"You have the core of my heart beating for you, a love beyond what a metaphor can express. I love you with every fiber of my being", he starts, clearing his throat before fumbling with his pants pocket.

Oh god.

He slowly falls to one knee, keeping one hand in mine as he speaks. I couldn't tear my eyes away from his, it felt like we were the only two people on the entire planet.

"You are my rock, my constant source of strength, and my guiding light. I'm sorry for lying to you for so long, I just wanted it all to be perfect just like you. I needed to make sure the ring fit you perfectly and the sales lady was so excited for us. I want nothing more than to spend every day with you for eternity... Y/n", His eyes meet mine, a shaking hand reaching up holding a small box with a diamond ring in it. I gasp almost immediately, hitting his shoulder softly.

'Luke oh my god! Yes", I laugh and shove him again.

He wipes a tear with the back of his sleeve, smiling up at me with glistening eyes "I didn't even get to ask properly yet! Y/n, will you marry me- please?"

#5sos #5 seconds of summer #5sos fanfic #calum 5sos #ashton 5sos #luke hemmings #calum hood #michael clifford #luke hemmings x y/n #luke hemming imagines #luke hemmings x reader #luke 5sos #luke x reader #5 secs of summer #5 second of summer imagines #5sos edit #5sos fanfiction #5sos fic

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sadhours · 1 year

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Wicked Sensation

part six // billy hargrove x f!reader

word count: 5.1k

warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, oral (f recieving), slapping, dirty talk, billy being agressive, steve being too good of a guy, angst, underage drinking

“You can take me,” you tell Steve before he has a chance to say hello.

You’d lied awake for hours after Billy had left last night, thinking about how while at first the idea of going to the dance with Steve as a game to Billy you’ve come to realize that’s exactly what it was, a game to Billy. It hurt that he would use the opportunity to have yet another leg up on Steve in this dumb feud they had going on. And it wasn’t even like Steve would know, it was like Billy wanted to hurt him and play mind games Steve wouldn’t even realize Billy was behind. You thought about calling off the whole plan but decided you deserved to actually have some fun and Steve was very much that. Conversations between you two were as easy as they come. Steve made you laugh and you liked the contrast between his easy going attitude and Billy’s intensity.

“Really?” Steve chirped, “Awesome, so uh, cool, cool, yeah.”

“I’ll pick a red dress,” you interpret his stuttering, hand on his chest because you see Billy out of the corner of your eye and maybe you can play the game to your advantage. “Pick me up at 5 for dinner.”

You wave goodbye, eyes darting back to see Billy with amused wide eyes which he has to mask quickly when Tommy walks up to him. You wonder who Billy’s going to go to the dance with, the idea making your stomach twist in jealousy. Which only worsens when you get to class and hear other girls talking about it. Since he hadn’t been making moved on anyone and was seemingly single they figured it was open season.

“You think he’s going to ask someone? Would it be totally weird to ask him?” you overhear Peggy’s voice and roll your eyes. Of course she’s still pining over him. Then you fall down a rabbit hole of thinking about Billy having sex with these girls. Did he touch them the way he touched you? The sensations were extremely hard to forget, not that you really tried to. Was what you two shared special and saved just for you or did he make all these other women crumble under his touch as well? You’re thinking about it for the rest of the school day, flashes of Billy sweating over top the list of women you know he’s been with.

“Why are you so quiet?” he asks on the ride home. Max has headphones on so you’re tempted to admit the reason you haven’t said a single word to him but it just doesn’t feel like the right moment. The two of you never talked about feelings when the sun was still out.

“Just a weird day,” you explain which isn’t exactly a lie.

“Is it about winter formal? Listen, I’d like to take you but…” He starts.

You interrupt, “It’ll ruin what we have.” You’ve heard him say it a couple times. You’ve told him you understand every time. “That’s not what I’m upset about.”

Billy squeezes your thigh and you picture him doing it to every bitch that’s been in his car so you jerk away. “I’m fine,” you insist and look out the window.

He backs off with a sigh, turning the dial up on his stereo to drown out the bad mood. You don’t say bye when he parks in front of his house, storming in your house and slamming the door behind you. Since the house is empty you scream out, closing your eyes tight when you do so and not giving a shit if Billy could hear it. However, you don’t expect to see your dad and little brother running into the living room.

“Oh,” your cheeks flush, “I thought I was alone.”

Your dad looks even more worried than before, “You okay?”

“I got asked to Winter Formal,” you tell him, tossing your backpack on the ground. “What are you two doing home?”

“Your brother is ‘sick’,” your dad says with air quotes, “Had to leave work early to get him. The neighbor boy ask you?”

“No, Billy didn’t ask me. One of the most popular boys asked me,” you vent to him.

He takes the opportunity, you usually never complained about your love life to him. He grabs a beer from the fridge and offers it to you, “Why didn’t Billy ask you if he’s been sneaking into your room for months?”

“His dad wouldn’t like me,” you admit, opening the beer and guzzling it down. You half expect your dad to scold you but he doesn’t.

“Ya know, I had to work on his dads car the other week… he’s a real dick,” your dad levels with you.

“So I’ve heard.”

“Did you say yes?” he asks, grabbing a beer for himself.

“I… Billy told me to and I do want to go so yes, I said yes. But I don’t want to hurt this guy because I like him but… I like him like I like Eddie,” you spew out.

Your dad sighs, joining you at the kitchen table. “It’s not good to lead people on. I think you oughta tell this fella you just want to be friends.”

You think about your light flirting with Steve earlier that day. It felt good to flirt with him but it’s not like you wanted to break things off with Billy to pursue Steve. “I know,” you sigh, “I just wish things could be different with Billy.”

“Compromise is important. I learned that with your mom. I wished things were different with her but when I look back, I wished I was more patient and compassionate,” your dad reveals and it breaks your heart a bit. You missed your mom but you thought your dad was a good guy and if she couldn’t even bother to check in every once in a while then maybe she was the bad actor.

You have no idea how to talk to your dad about your mom leaving so you just nod, “You’re right…” you sigh and stand up, “I’m gonna go out front for a bit.”

Your dad grins with a nod, “Do what feels right, pumpkin.”

When you’re outside you see Billy taking out the trash, watching as you light your smoke and you raise your beer to him. He shakes his head but he’s smiling before he blows you a kiss. You feel your heart skip a bit, swooning for him easily before he’s back inside. You couldn’t tell your dad about the intimate reasons you were upset. You didn’t bother Eddie with sexual details or problems so that left the problem to talk to it about. Which you weren’t looking forward to but for your sanity you had to ask him.

You’re waiting for Billy to call since you’d kind of given him the cold shoulder you expected him to give you space. You glance to your alarm clock and see it’s nearing midnight. If he was gonna call it would have been by now. You sigh and get up, standing in your mirror while you undress. You watch yourself and wonder if anything was different between you and Peggy, underneath it all. Peggy probably wears nighties, you think and without much of a second thought, you’re digging in your closet for the one you own, a Christmas present from your grandma. You hold the hanger in front of you, a simple white slip with a delicate lace along the décolletage. She’d probably wear something like this, you think as you pull it over your naked body.

Knock, knock. Your head snaps towards the window to see Billy looking back at you with a surprised grin on his face. You walk over, unlocking the window before sliding it open.

“I’ve never seen that before,” he says, his mouth hanging open when he’s finished.

“You’re gonna drool,” you shut is jaw with a gentle hand before helping him inside.

Billy shuts the blinds behind him and wraps his arms around your waist, “You expecting me?”

“Oh, god, you would like this,” you roll your eyes and pull away.

Billy grabs your wrist and tilts his head, quizzically, “Am I not supposed to?”

“No!” You exclaim, “It’s not me! You’re not supposed to like it!”

His smile falters and his eyebrows knit together in confusion, “What’s going on?”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you suddenly feel exposed and ashamed. Billy’s fingers dance under your elbow and arms. He steps closer, eyes expectant while he waits for you to answer. You’re afraid you’ll start to cry if you open your mouth, looking up at him fearful.

“Baby…” he mutters, “Talk to me.”

His voice is quiet but his eyes on you make the room seem smaller and smaller with each second.

“Am… am I different?”

“Incredibly,” he whispers, “Weirdest person I’ve met.” The smirk on his face isn’t soothing in any way.

“No… like,” you let out a shaky breath. “Do you touch other girls like you touch me?”

Confusion and anger cover his expressions, “What? I haven’t touch-“

“When you did, before me, after we did, I mean have you fucked them like me or is it different?” you interrupt him, finally relieved to get this off your chest.

Billy pauses, unsure of how to answer that question or what exactly it implied. He couldn’t help if he knew how to make women come undone for him. “What are you talking about?”

“Peggy wants to ask you to the dance. You fucked her forever ago and she’s still thinking about you. I can’t fathom the thought of you… I don’t know, Billy.”

“Hey, hey,” he sits you down the bed and gets on his knees between your legs, “it is so different for you and I.”

“You made them feel how you make me feel,” you mutter out, the tears spilling out finally.

“But I’m here with you, I stopped sleeping with other girls, babe. For you. You make me feel better than they ever could,” he says and you can’t believe the words coming from him or how easy it is for him to comfort you. “I don’t care if they still want me, you shouldn’t either. They can’t have me, but you do.”

“But Billy… they still talk about you,” you blubber, palms smearing your tears away as they coat your flushed cheeks.

He sighs then, sitting on his heels. He’s quiet for a second and then he’s taking his dagger earring off and putting it on your ear. You hadn’t even realized he took it back from you. “Have this. Wear it everyday. I know it’s not me screaming from the rooftops that we’re together but it’s what I can do for now,” he’s saying, eyes trained on hours.

The gesture is sweet and calms you down slightly. He laces his fingers in yours and squeezes, “You’re different in the best way. I promise you, it’s different. I actually like you.”

You smile, “You mean it?”

“Lemme show you,” Billy’s bunching your night gown up and his mouth is between your legs. You watch him, licking between your folds and the sensation sends shivers up your spine. Say what they will, they didn’t have Billy like you did.

His fingers snake up your nightgown and graze against your nipple, tongue focused at your opening, sliding into you. Falling onto your back, your fingers grip his curls and pull him closer.

“Billy… feels so good…” you praise, lifting your feet to the edge of the mattress.

“Tastes even better,” he pulls away to mumble and the compliment floors you, pushing his face back.

His tongue broadly licks up your slit, shaking his head to aid when the tip of his tongue is pressed at your clit. Every concern slipping away from his deliberate actions. He’s entering you with two fingers and you feel the pressure building efficiently, tearing you apart expertly.

“I’m.. I’m gonna cum,” you stutter out, thighs clenching around his face and your back arched.

Billy quickens his pace, nodding his head up and down while his fingers twist and curl inside you. When you start to pant, he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks which pushes you over the edge. “Billy!” you gasp, pulling at his hair and thrashing against his face.

“You’re mine,” he says when your faces meet again, tearing the nightie off of you.

“Mine..” you mumble out lazily, your body still on cloud nine.

“Yours,” Billy’s mouthing against your ear, peeling his shirt from his torso. You help him with his shoes and pants even though you’re suddenly exhausted. You want him to have you.

“Say it again,” you whimper, feeling his tip press against your entrance.

“I’m yours,” he says through gritted teeth as he inches inside of you.

“All mine,” you say, drunk on the passion as you wrap your legs around his waist and tug him closer.

Billy bites your bottom lip then, pushing the rest of the way and you feel him fill you up. You moan into his mouth when his fingers curl around your hip, everything falling apart around the two of you. He falters a bit, chuckling softly when he stills.

“Jesus,” he exhales, “I’m already close… give me a minute.”

It’s the highest compliment he could’ve paid you and you giggle back, “Thank you.”

“Oh, shut up,” he seethes but he’s smiling.

“You last long with them?” you tease, fingers grazing his chest and then curling around the necklace he’s always wearing. You think it’s the Virgin Mary, definitely something catholic.

Billy gently flicks your nose, looking pointedly at you, “This doesn’t typically happen, no.”

You shudder underneath him, tightening your legs around his waist. The stimulation takes his breath from his lungs and he’s pushing you down by your chest, “Give me a minute for fucks sake.”

“What if I want you to cum?” you challenge, rolling your hips against him.

“Then I will,” he keeps his palm pressed hard on your sternum. He starts moving again, pounding hard into you. Hard enough that it startles you and actually kind of hurt. You gasp and he grabs your chin roughly, tilting your head back but his eyes fierce. “But you’re gonna look at me while I do it. You look away and I won’t be happy.”

You’re curious so you tear your eyes away from his face, down to his chest. Billy’s quick to slap you, grabbing onto your jaw again and scolding you, “I fucking mean it.”

“Yes, Sir…” you pant, the carnal assault bringing a flood of arousal from you, only making the sound of his pumping into your wetness louder.

“Good girl,” he spits and it doesn’t sound like praise but like he expects this from you.

“You like when I’m a good girl?” you say through pouted lips.

Billy grits his teeth, thumb digging into your cheek. “Good girls don’t ask dumb questions,” he fumes, his hips relentless against you.

“I’m only bad for you,” you counter, your confidence in speaking is a show of how close you are to a second orgasm.

“I want you to be good right now,” he pants, holding his gaze into your eyes. You wonder if your banter is helping postpone or hastening his own climax.

“Make me be good,” you challenge and Billy’s pulling out to flip you over onto your stomach, grabbing your wrists in his hands and pinning them behind against the small of your back as he penetrates you hard.

“You little slut,” he slanders, driving his hips back and forth at a harsh pace. He’s successful shutting you up, the ferocious onslaught pushing the air from your lungs. He spanks your ass as he unloads inside of you, your own orgasm erupting in sync with him.

“Billy!” you cry out, shaking beneath him.

You both come down, breathing like you’d been holding it in for hours.

“I assure you, it was never anything like that,” he pants, eyes tightly closed.

Dress shopping was not fun. You’d dragged Eddie along for moral support but he wasn’t help at all, laughing at most ensembles you’d tried on. “You look like a cake topper.”

“That’s it,” you say, staring back at a foreign reflection. “I’m not going.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “Oh, come on.”

Like some saving grace, you see Billy walking into the store. You lift an eyebrow in surprise, asking what he’s doing there. Then Max walks in behind him, looking out of place just like you.

“I need a dress,” she mutters and you smile, happy that someone had asked her to the Snowball Dance.

“It’s slim Pickens,” you inform her.

“Why not this?” Billy holds up a sleek, red gown. There’s no frills to it at all and you wonder why you couldn’t find it.

“Huh, more my style than Max’s,” you counter and Billy guffaws.

“Gee, I wonder why,” he shoves the hanger in your hand.

You slip away to try the dress on and realize just what a saving grace Billy was. It was like he knew your body better than you did. The god damn thing fit you like a glove, even if it had an absurd amount of cleavage spilling out. You’d never felt sexier, staring back at the mirror. You decide to make Billy wait, changing out of the dress but holding it to your chest.

“Please tell me it’s a winner?” Eddie begs, a hopeful glint in his eye. You’d promised to visit the comic store after this.

“Billy’s omnipresent or something,” you mutter, not wanting to admit he’d picked the perfect dress for you within seconds of arriving.

Billy smirks, “Ya gonna make me wait to see it, huh?”

“Max! Let me help you find something,” you usher the redhead off, not wanting to give Billy the satisfaction.

When you glance back to see him and Eddie getting along, your heart skips a beat thinking of what could be if only he didn’t have to keep you hidden. You shove it down, watching at what Max pulls from the racks. She doesn’t seem to like anything so you counter, “I went to the Snowball dance both years in junior high. You don’t really have to wear a dress.”

“My mom wants me to pick a dress out,” she counters and you nod.

“Let’s try to find something simple, then. I’m not much of a dress girl either, but our dance has a strict dress code,” you say. After a moment of thumbing through the racks, you pull one out, just a simple green dress. “How about this?”

Max looks at it intrigued, fingertips ghosting the velvet. “I guess this could work,” she decides, grabbing it from you and heading towards Billy. She hands it to him and says, “Here.”

Billy looks over to you appreciatively, “Well that was painless.” But he snakes to snatch the dress in your hand, taking it to the counter. You protest but it’s fruitless. Billy’s paying for your dress and handing the bag to you. “I’ll see you around.”

Eddie scoffs as Billy and Max walk out of the boutique, “That guy is something else.”

“I’ll say,” you sigh, grabbing Eddie’s hand and pulling him towards the comic store.

With knuckles against your door, Steve feels anxious. You were hard to understand, pushing and pulling away from him. He couldn’t read you at all and that was part of what kept him interested. As he’s waiting outside, he catches Billy and his little step sister walking to his Camaro.

“King Steve,” he hears behind him, having turned away. Billy’s standing there, wearing a suit, hair meticulously styled and a simple stud in his ear.

“Can I help you?” Steve challenges, his hair is always perfectly sculpted, he spent an hour on it.

“No,” Billy shrugs, but before he can continue your dad opens the door.

“Hi, Dale,” Billy beams, confusing your dad, seeing two men standing in almost matching suits, the only difference in bow ties. Steve’s red to match your dress and Billy’s is a hot pink.

“Hello, Billy,” your dad greets, turning to your date and saying, “You must be Steve.”

“Billy! Let’s go!” Max calls out and Billy stifles his anger.

“Have a goodnight, Harrington,” he spits before walking back to his Camaro.

Steve extends his hand to your dad, “Nice to meet you.”

Your dad invites Steve inside, who then excuses himself in the bathroom before you walk out into the kitchen.

“Your boyfriend intimated your date,” your dad lets you know, looking amused.

“Oh, God,” you sigh, grimacing at the thought but thankfully you don’t have time to stew on it as Steve’s exiting the bathroom.

“You look amazing,” he says, out of breath as if he doesn’t see your dad standing next to you.

“So do you,” you tell him, smiling wide. Steve does look good, he usually looks pretty prim and proper but something about him in a tuxedo has you thinking about him in ways you never have.

“I’m right here,” your dad speaks up, chuckling as he does so.

Steve’s eyes widen, “Yeah! Oh, I’m sorry! It’s… sorry, I,” he grabs the corsage he’d left on the counter and presents it to you. You extend your wrist towards him with a flutter of your eyelashes, watching as he adorns the gorgeous rose.

“It’s pretty,” you note, a satisfied smile plastered on your face.

“Just like you,” Steve points out.

Your dad extends his hand to Steve, your date taking it in a firm handshake, “Take care of her.”

Steve nods, then moves towards the door. Your dad hugs you, whispering “Now that’s how a man should treat you.” before pulling away.

“Thank you,” you look into his eyes, you think he’s right but that Billy would… if he could.

The restaurant Steve takes you to is the nicest place you’ve been. It isn’t a diner at the edge of town. There’s many other kids from school here. You don’t see Billy and his date, thankfully. He never told you who he was going with but you weren’t sure if you’d hoped it was someone he hasn’t slept with or some poor sap he’d already fooled around with. You scold yourself for thinking about him in this moment. Right now was about you and your date. You were determined to have a good time. You order a glass of wine and Steve widens his eyes, perhaps impressed by your boldness. You supply your fake ID to the waiter and it’s accepted so he in turn offers Steve a glass. He accepts and you’re pleased to impress the man across from you.

“You’re something else,” Steve smiles, leaning across the table to take his hand in yours.

“I’ve heard that before,” you quip with a cocky smirk.

The food is good and the company even better. Steve is funny and charming, it would’ve been so easy for him to get in your pants if you weren’t spoken for. He’s handsome as hell too but equipped with a boyish charm that works so well. And God, you think, it would be easy to fall into something steady with him. Due to the three glasses of wine, you wonder what Steve’s like between the sheets. You imagine a slew of praises and what kind of noises he’d make with his dick in your mouth. Never in the past three years would you imagine you’d be here with the King of Hawkins High. The alcohol mixed with the the attention has you pressing Steve against his car in the parking lot, kissing him intensely and adoring the way it takes him by surprise.

“Wines the secret ingredient I needed, eh?” He mumbles when you pull away.

“You look good in a suit,” you shrug before trailing to the other side of his BMW. “Let’s go dance the night way, pretty boy.”

“No need to pull my arm,” he quips.

The high school gym looks like a sad car with a new paint job, the streamers doing little to distract you from the fact that you’re at Hawkin’s High. You immediately catch Billy’s eyes, he’s seeing you in the dress he’d bought for the first time. He’d seen it on the rack next to your mirror but he’d longed for the moment he got to see it draping to your curves. You hold Steve’s hand in yours, noticing as heads turn towards the two of you. You thought you looked so good in the dress no one was calling you a freak. But the looks were definitely because Steve brought a freak to Winter Formal and that freak looked hot.

“Jesus Christ,” Tommy mutters to Billy who is also staring at you. He’s about to mirror Tommy’s thirst but catches himself.

“Whatever,” Billy mutters, slinging an arm over Molly’s shoulder.

Cutting Crew’s “(I Just) Died In Your Arms” starts playing and you grab Steve’s hand, pulling him to the punch bowl. When you get your drink, you feel the alcohol burn your throat. Thank God it’s been spiked. This would be a long night without it.

Billy’s watching across the gym, a little taken aback but the jealousy he feels in the pit of his stomach. But it’s your fault, right? He told you to go with Steve but he didn’t tell you to enjoy it. He seethes, watching after you both down a glass of punch before strutting to the dance floor. He hates how romantic this song is, seeing you drape arms around Steve as you sway together. He’d give anything to hear what you two were whispering back and forth. He’d really love to go up and sock Steve right in the face, but that’d be to obvious. No, he’d have to play dirty. Molly’s blabbering in his ear and he regretted the entire game, seeing how carefree and fun you seemed around his arch nemesis. He grabs Molly’s clutch, digging through it for the flask he’d stashed inside, though the whiskey inside isn’t much help.

When Sweet Dreams bubbles out of the speakers, he’s dragging Molly to the dance floor making sure he’s in your eyesight. He turns her around, hands on her hips and he grinds against her bottom with his eyes trained on you. Steve’s blissfully unaware of the competition at hand, gasping in your ear when you mimic Billy and Molly. You swing your hand up to lace through the bottom of Steve’s mullet. You think about kissing Steve but it’s too early. You’d fuck with Billy later, this is what he wanted after all.

After a few songs, you excuse yourself from Steve, explaining you need a cigarette badly. You let him think it’s from arousal but truly, you need a breath of air. It’s also an invitation for Billy that he takes, stalking out after you.

“Having fun?” he sneers as he catches you lighting your smoke.

You guffaw, hearing as the song before bleeds into Don’t Dream It’s Over by Crowded House. “I’m at a school dance watching the man I love grind against some whore,” your voice is venomous.

“I’m having the time of my life too,” Billy’s heart skips when you inadvertently admit you love him but hey, time and place. “It’s not fun watching heart eyes and grabby hands.”

“You told me to go with him, motherfucker,” you seethe, but internally feigning over the jealousy he exudes.

Billy scoffs, taking a deep drag from his own smoke.

“And Molly?” you laugh, “I should’ve guessed. Oh, Billy is just so cute! He’s just so kissable. Fucking gag me with a spoon.”

Billy greets his teeth, “I have something else I’d rather gag you with.”

You laugh harshly, the alcohol really showing itself when you comeback with, “Oh please Billy! I want nothing else than for you to get off in my throat where no one can see! Our little secret.”

“Cut the sarcasm, bitch,” Billy spits, pushing you against the wall.

“The fuck is wrong with you? You have to get drunk to spend the night with Harrington?”

“Had to get drunk to deal with you tonight. Steve’s a breeze to be around,” you quip and Billy’s got his hand on your throat as a reaction.

“You like getting a rise out of me,” he reasons, frowning around the words, “You’re not a filthy slut but you sure like acting like one to get my attention.”

You look him dead in the eye, “Let go of me or I’ll scream.”

Billy gives a laugh full of discredit, pushing you further.

“Oh my god, what are you doing? Billy, stop! You’re hurting me!” You claim and when you open wide to scream his hand is forcing your mouth shut.

“I don’t like the game you’re playing,” he says, eyes wary.

You bite his hand and he pulls away.

“Tell me you love me,” you appeal, eyes trained on his. “Tell me you love me and fucking mean it, Billy.”

He closes his eyes and blows air out of his nose, like he’s dejected. “You’re such a bitch,” he mutters, eyes fluttering open again but you’re serious.

“Tell me,” you shrill, “Tell me or I’m done. I’ll go home with Ste-“

“I love you, okay!” he drops his hand from his hands from your shoulders.

You pull him close, feeling his breath against your lips, “Again.”

“I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you too, Billy Hargrove,” you say breathlessly before pulling him into a bruising kiss.

You could feel he meant it, especially with the way he kisses you back. You leave in two days for Florida and you really couldn’t leave without the admission. You melt into him and the two of you share a beautiful moment but it’s cut short by a girl neither of you know, storming out in tears. You both retract, as if you weren’t just sharing the most important stage of your relationship.

“You should get back to Steve,” Billy says dejectedly.

“One more time,” you plead.

“I love you,” he indulges, a quick kiss.

“I love you too,” you mutter, pulling back to stumble back into the dance. Everything seems different. You don’t want to go back to Steve, you want to follow Billy to his Camaro and get a motel somewhere far.

Take my breath away you hear through the fogginess of the smoke machines, seeing Steve fiddling with his fingers at a table. This isn’t fair, you think as you collapse into the chair next to him. Steve saw Billy follow you and the flush on your face but he doesn’t tell you.

“You want me to take you home?” he asks and you nod.

“Please…”

#billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove x f!reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction

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safely-in-vhagars-belly · 3 months

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Snow falls (Dark Aemond x OC/Reader) chapter 27: Bath and belts ((Aemonds pov)

🔷Summary: You are Aemond's wife from the North that he claimed and your relationship is quite complicated.

Wordcount:6069

🔷Author's note: Really dark aemond i am not messing around with tags.

🔷Warnings: Smut, p in v, bdsm, dom/sub themes, spankings, whippings, degrading (oc recieving) fingering (f recieving) anal sex, oral sex, bathtub sex and violent sex (but its consensual)

This is not the new chapter haha this was a old one i forgot to publish. I didnt forget i was terrified to post it

Aemonds pov.

Big innocent eyes stare at me. A face of innocence that is desecrated with stains of cum. And all of that belongs to the wicked little fox who has managed to find a way into my heart. She gulps when she sees the belt hanging by my side as I stride over to her. Her big Northen eyes are filled with fear and confusion and a hint of curiosity. I grab my fox without ceremony by her hips and lay her over my legs, her ass up.

She does not know yet. She suspects but as always her innocent good mind will paint a prettier picture than her world truly is. So, I tell her what will be done with her. "My little fox needs a good belting." I make my voice a soft husky whisper.

"Aemond, please dont-" She begs desperately. I don't take well to those kind of words. Please don't. Please don't be mean to your siblings, Aemond. Please don't hate your brothers for having a dragon. Please don't harm your sister please don't kill me..."please, my master. I am frightend." She confesses as tears shimmer in her beautiful eyes.

I don't listen to her pleas. If I did, she would still be maiden. I bend her over my knees, exposing her for all she is. She gasps and cries silently when I softly let my belt caress her back, giving her time to feel it before it will hurt her. "Please, husband." She begs another time. "I don't want to be whipped."

I smack my lips in thought, conflicted. My fox is frightened for good reasons. But I want to see my mark on her body. In more way than one. And I am her husband. She is my lady. She will do as I tell her to do. "No one does, little fox. No one does." I coo in her ear when she cries out helplessly. I pet her back and give her several sloppy kisses. She accepts them all.

Willa's naked body is beyond ready for me. I force my fingers around her nippels, feeling if they have hardened yet. I groan when they poke against my own thumbs. "As hard as sapphires. Such a good girl for me." I comment, causing Willa to blush. She does so easily. I chuckle in her ear.

My thumbs leave her breasts before sinking to her triangle between her legs. I need to push her against me so she won't tense up and explore her cunt. When I am done, my fingers are soaked and wet with her pleasure. I grin. "You enjoy your time on my lap, hm? You enjoy being helpless." I grit out to her. She nods as more tears fall. Tears of shame, fear, and self hatred.

I almost feel pity for her. Almost. My fox is a complicated young thing, still uneducated in so many ways. "It is good, that you enjoy yourself. You would hate being my wife if you did not. See it as a gift of the gods, that you have found a way to love this almost as much as I do." I tell her my voice gentle yet full of mockery.

Willa lifts her dark haired head to glance at me her eyes full of hope as she briefly licks her dry lips. "I will suck if you don't hurt me."

That makes me chuckle. My little fox has figured that one out so fast. She is a devious little fox for trying to bribe me. For that, she will be whipped one extra time. As much as amusing it is to see Willa finally understand the fastest way to earn a reward from me, I promised her before I won't give into her begs and her pleads.

It is not how I want my wife to be. Our marriage is not one out of love, yet my sweet fox hopes it one day can be. That can only happen if she accepts the cold truth: That I know best. Always. Especially when it comes to her needs.

I force my voice to become cold as ice when speaking to my wife, scolding her. "Your duties are to me. And right now, that means that I will whip you, little fox. I will make you writhe and cry so loud that your Northen gods can hear you." Willa wordlessly wails and I feel my cock harden.

I pat her head to mock and humiliate her further."We can discuss your need to suck me later, when you have had your belting, my sweet." I tell her when she whimpers loudly. I kiss her tear stained cheeks.

I push my reward on her belly and grab a pillow for her face to rest on. I make sure her head is resting comfortably. "Your pillow is your reward." I tell her. "If you even dare to hide your cries, I will take it away. Is that understood?"

She gives a soft, terrified nod. "Y-yes." She manages to mutter out loud.

I become more aroused as Willa almost hides herself into the matress. I feel my power over her grow as she makes peace with this for her terrifying reality. "Yes who?" I demand, harshly kneading her ass cheeks.

"Yes, my Prince." My wife obediently mutters as another tear falls.

I smirk, as I lift the belt. Willa whimpers before I even slashed her. She is such a timid little thing. So breakable. So precious.

And all mine.

Driven by that thought, I bring the belt to her behind cruelly bringing it down on her behind. Willas delightful screams of pure terror make my cock jump.

She becomes frightend as her sigil and tries to escape me. I won't let her. Not until her belting is properly done.

She will learn soon enough. I slash her behind cruelly with the belt, listening to my fox cry out and watch her buckle on my lap as a wild cat. It turns me on quicker than she knows. Especially when her tears start falling as little precious snowflakes as I increase the blows dealt to her behind. She gasps and moans as she whimpers. I rub her back and give her what she has earned. I am her tormenter.

Her left hand isn't doing anything so I force it around my cock. "Rub me off as well." I tell her almost groaning to her. She nods as her fingers gently stroke my cock when I give her the one after the other merciless slash.

Willa's whimpers only become louder and I smoothly enter one of my fingers inside of her cunt to make her happy. She is even wetter than before. She is aroused by this, the little naughty fox. Good. So am I. I can't help but mock her. "I could have my brothers entire army, all 80 thousand men fuck you and you wouldn't be statisified, would you Willa?" I growl.

As a answer she whimpers, ashamed and worried."I am so sorry." She just wants the slashing to end. "Whatever reason I've given you for this, I am so sorry, Aemond. I don't understand... We were doing so well." We.

I feel fear rise in my chest as I quickly scoff. "You went to a whore. You went to see Aurelia. And you were ungrateful when I killed her for you." Willa screams as I let the belt touch her behind once more.

"All for you, Aemond." So she keeps saying. I don't believe her. No one does things for me. No one. Not my mother, not my brother, not my grandsire, not even my own damn father did things for me. I do things for me. I don't exist for the rest of the world. Not truly.

Willa understands finally that I am her master and that she is my pet. Her eyes lower obediently, and she settles on my legs. I still hold her down. But once she sighs and lowers her head, I know my fox has finally surrendered.

She will obey my rules. She will listen to my command. And no one, no one else is going to give her what she wants. Only I. She can accept the pleasure I hand her, or she will go without any.

She confuses me greatly. I want to keep her from harm, which is not an easy task. The girl is curious and too stubborn for her own good. My lessons will only help her so much; I fear most of Willa's wild spirit comes from her roots.

There is no cure for that, unfortunately.

But I want to hear her scream nonetheless. I want to hurt her, but I don't want her to be harmed. I want her to be mine and mine alone. She is a possession I can't share.

I rub her entrance. I enter with two of my fingers as Willa appreciates very well. My fox is a needy one, and most girls prefer three fingers as it becomes closest to being filled. Willa, however, enjoys two the most. It's because she knows there is another one coming soon. She takes my fingers so well and eagerly that I often need to discipline her to remind her who of us holds the power. So eager she becomes.

I hush her quietly when rubbing her as she cries in my arms. "That was your punishment." I tell her when gently patting her cunt. That makes her cry out even louder. "Now we can talk about your pleasure." I whisper, coating her easily with her excitement. She nods bravely. My little fox is many things but not a craven.

Willa is excited and happy to be free of the pain. She endured the worst of it.

Or so she thinks. I wait smirking a little bit when my fox happily and naively turns her back to me. Only for me to belt her a final time and a hard one at that.

"Ow!" Her cries go straight to my cock; who hardens beneath Willa's body. She briefly tries to buck and flee when glaring at me through her tears. I smirk at her.

She is such a beautiful thing. And she is all mine. "Now you are fully done. Time you have your cunny fucked." I tell her. "On your knees." I gleefully order her.

She obeys, still crying when getting on her hands and feet glaring at me.

My smirk vanishes. "Soften your face little fox, or I will help you with another whipping." I warn her. Willa nods wordlessly and tears up losing her glare. Much better. The desperation in her eyes makes me nearly come in front of her.

"Follow me." I tell her when making my way back to the bathroom.

She once was a maiden when I took her into bed the first time. I showed her her true purpose as wife. I fucked her on the bed, on the table in her ancestor's war room and I also made my claim with her when we were traveling. I laid her down and fucked Willa as an animal in the middle of the open roads for anyone to see.

I wonder if Willa is telling me the full truth of it. Was she trying to be a good sweet loyal wife, and trying to appease to my pleasure when she hired that whore? Or does my fox need a little more spice and dirty when I handle her in the bedroom?

I think I know what she'll like next. Willa loves to be powerless and to be in pain. She is a complicated young woman who often fights these dark desires she has, but I for one welcome her to be as she wants to be. I won't judge her for wanting to be beaten. I don't judge her for wanting to lose.

Because I only want to win from her. And I only want to win hard.

Willa follows on her feet. I stare at her in shock because of her audacity. "Little fox. I believe I told you to crawl." I cross my arms ready to belt her another time.

But I briefly recall my orders. I told her to kneel, and I told her to follow. Perhaps Willa simply didn't understand she was supposed to crawl behind me as my little dirty pet. Judging by her big northen eyes full of confusion, no she wouldn't have guessed I would humiliate and toy with her as that.

She gulps but does talk back to me, surprising me and arousing me at once. "That would have taken me much longer." She tells me and that is true, I won't deny that. She knows I am a man of reason. A man with a mind.

But I am furious she dares to disobey my command. She dares to question me. I know what is best for her. I am her husband. "I don't care it would have taken you longer. You will return to the bedroom and crawl back here. Do you understand?" I bark at her. She flinches and for a moment I see fear...and also a tiny hint of arousal.

But she turns back to the bedroom and disappears. I groan when stepping back into the water of the bath. I fucked Willa briefly on the stones here, but I have plans that will cause my fox to cry and to make her understand perfectly why no one else is better suited for her. She is my wife.

My cock wants me to barge in the bedroom and grab Willa and fuck her standing. Just to fully own and control that what belongs to me. To fill her delicious walls capture me and for her cries to be directed to me and my body. She deserves it.

I groan. Willa is taking her sweet time with her sweet tight bum and cunt, so once again I have some time off. I think of her sweet little cries when she happily fucks me, begging and in tears when she fucks my cock. Its stained with her blood and she begs me for more. She is spend and clearly tired but my poor good and well mannered fox knows her husband's desires are her task. No one else can statisify me and without satisfaction my fox is not allowed to rest.

She caters to my every wish and demand when I handle her as a doll existing solely for my pleasure and my wicked mind. I strip and belt her first, throwing her on my writing desk when ripping her corset open revealing her hardened nippels and her jiggling breasts.

As an animal I squeeze her breasts tightly as Willa is forced against my hard thick shaft. The once so innocent doe eyed maiden is confronted with my dark desires.

And As a monster, I let my sharp nails go over the nippels before hissing in her ear and force her to look me in the eyes for what comes next.

I flip her the way one would flip a dead corpse before raiding its pockets. I flip her on the table and pin her down with my weight leaving dozens of kisses of lies on her shoulders and her throat. Kisses that lie that I will be gentle and sweet. Lies she believes so easily simply because she wants to believe them.

And she does. She believes me. Until my cock enters her pristine and tight well kept cunny and I sink into her hot warm pure delight. Willa would not be Willa if she was not a little bit wet for me. She is always a little wet when we start, slightly so I can ease my cock in.

I take Willa as I would take any woman. She is not special when she is under me. She is as any other female and she had met her conquer and match in me. I dominate the poor girl with through posessive and rough pounds at her cunny that begins to create more wetness as the fucking continues.

It's confusing and breaking her to be handled as this. She loves it partly. She loves the pleasure. But she hates that she loves the pain as well. She is ashamed and still a scared girl of pain not knowing fully how wonderful pain can be.

Her weeping becomes louder as I gently fuck her on the table and I show her some compassion for her bravery by kissing her cheeks. "You are so good for your husband..." I tell her. Willa is as sensitive to words as she is to touch. I simply look at my beautiful conquest before leaning in. "You are a good girl for me, taking my cock so well." Willa pants softly as a anwser heavily blushing, happy that I let my approval be known.

She is so beautiful. So damn tight. So fucking wet. So terrifyingly haunting. And yet so terriblely insecure. My fox needs my approval. Willa needs to hear praise often that she is doing the right thing. She often searches for my praise with her big eyes.

I dive back inside her and I am met with a wave of wetness of the fox. I fuck my cock wet on her and I bet if I were to make her suck it she would taste only herself on it. Willa is so wonderfully tight and wet for me that I must handle her with both my hands. And finally...

Fuck.

In reality that little spawn has finally found her way into the bathroom. She takes notice of me back in the steaming water and my fingers wrapped around my cock. She blinks a few times as if processing this moment. As if she wants to remember it forever.

She clears her throat to announce herself, wanting me to scurry away with my fingers. She wants me to be embarrassed about touching myself. Of rubbing myself when thinking of her image. Instead of cowering or hiding I rub one extra time so she can see it properly and pretend to get up from the bath.

Willa flinches and loses our little power play as she backs against the wall. I feel my lips grow into a smirk as I calmly lean against the back of the tub, staring at my wife. She eyes my cock and I notice that briefly the tip of her tongue glides over her lips. It is very briefly. Barely a moment.

"Uhm.." I feel my lips smirk at her insecure greeting. "I-i am here, Aemond. Or did you uhm prefer a title?" She thinks I make her call me master because it's arousing to me.

It is not. My own name, that is too arousing. She becomes too powerful when she wields that, and I must not grant her anymore power. She has too much already.

I focus on my fox. My sweet fox. "Get up little fox." Willa obeys, getting up from the ground with blushing cheeks. She is used to being a pawn and a chess piece but to be owned as a whore? I will show her.

We have had sex, yes many times. Willa has been spanked, yes, many times. Willa has had rough sex and Willa has come all over my cock many many many times.

This time will be different. I have something planned for my fox. And I am not sure she'll like it. But that does not matter. I am her husband. I'll make her like it.

That will change today, I have decided. It is past time that my little fox fully became my wife. She will be obeying my wishes tonight. All of them will be catered to and for every bit of rebellion I will hurt the girl.

Willa plays with her dark locks as she waits for further instructions. She is such a good wife to me. She is more than my fox and my pet. It's just a shame that I must protect her from the rest of the world. And her own foolishness.

Willa sees a colourful rainbow when looking outside when I see the world for what it is. Without my protection and my name she would be helpless dead and alone. I must protect her at any cost and any means.

Still that does not matter now. Willa won't run. No one will take her from me. Not even my useless cunt of a brother.

A husband's duty is to provide for his wife. And to take care of her needs. Willa seems needy in my opinion. So, I invite her to join me. "You can use a bath too. Why don't you join me, little fox?" I ask sweetly setting up my trap.

She seems surprised by my offer but nods. "If you wish me to, I will join you." I tell myself it would be easier to fuck her if she is within my grasp.

But this voice that I thought I had lost long ago reminds me I have another motive. I don't want my fox near me out of sexual pleasures. Not alone.

I want her near me for me. I want to feel her heartbeat and not just because I like it when it speeds up. I want to be near her for her.

I force myself to scowl and study her body. "I don't wish anything little fox; I demand." I remind her with a strict elite tone.

Willa knows how to respond to that very well and lowers her eyes out of obedience and pure submission. "Yes, husband." Her voice is gentle and timid.

I hope she does join me, and I don't think I ever bathed with another lady before. "Come, Willa. This bath was your idea, and you filled it. You should at least enjoy it." I tell her, inviting her by offering my right hand.

Willa becomes closer but her laugh betrays that she is not agreeing with my compliments. "A wife's duty is to take care of he husband. Filling a bath is not so difficult. I swore -" I hush her. She does so much for me. And yet she talks herself down.

The truth is I would not know how to fill a bath nor do I care to know. I have servants who do it for me. I watched Willa as she prepared mine with great interest and worry. Such a tiny breakable thing...

Targaryens are said to love fire. I do. I just don't love it when Willa is near flames and can hurt herself. I watched her as a hawk.

"Don't talk yourself down. Only I may do so." I warn her when cupping her chin. Willa breaths out as my hands caress her chin. Gently I kiss her lips. She hums against my lips.

I force her left feet in. Her right foot next. I am still laying and I can reach just her cunny with my mouth since she still stands up. Willa looks a little lost so I help her settle in.

She nods, her face still dirty of my cum. She can lean on me if she wishes to and I won't let her go. Finally Willa sits down opposite from me.

Her cheeks are red with heat and shame as well as arousal. The water might be a tiny bit too hot for her, but I hope that if it's hurting her that she will be brave enough to speak up about it.

I watch her for a moment, as her eyes go over the bathroom walls and over the floors looking for something. She does not know what to do.

She tries to get herself together. She is still hurt from my whipping and the dead servants that I killed. I sigh before briefly coming closer to her and give her a soft kiss on her lips. She kisses me back and moans weakly when I leave the kiss first. I bend my finger and command her over to me.

I force her on my long legs. She is sitting comfortable but so close to my cock. Willa seems to enjoy herself and leans in to my body, fully embracing this moment. I kiss her neck, leaving a traill on her collarbone before moving to her shoulders.

I bend her slightly and force her hands on the edge of the tub so she has some hold on. My cock hardens. I am in control. Willa is delightfully naive and chuckles nervously. "Aemond? What is happening?" Oh my sweet innocent fox.

I line myself up to fuck her cunt. "You'll see." I tell her instead of explaining. Show, don't tell. That's what they say.

I sniff her scent before slamming myself inside her. I am met with the most delicious little noise in this world. "Nhn! Husband!" It is closely followed by two grunts of her pain and a soft very timid; "Ah..." just hearing her accept makes me happy. It feels good to fuck what belongs to me.

I decided to talk her through it. "You are so tight, little fox. Unfortunately, you fell for my trap." I boast but Willa has no desire to speak against me or to rebel. She wants this. She wants to be taken advantage of. She has become such a good wife to me. Altered perfectly to all my needs and desires.

I hear a sound. A delicate and soft, almost offended whimper from my wife's mouth who can't believe I trapped her in my bath. Or perhaps she can't believe that something so dark can feel so good. "Nhn!" Willa moans.

Gods I'll never tire of that sound. She feels wonderfully wet and tight when I slide inside her claiming her deeply. Willa exhales when I take her roughly in the bathtub, not caring about the water that ends up on the floor.

Willa's cries of pleasure and pain fill the room as well as my grunts and groans as I fuck Willa in the warm water. I grab her by her shoulders as I cruelly invade her body by fucking its entrance. I do have one thing left for her. One final present."Do you trust me Willa?' I moan in her ear when riding her. She can only grunt and groan when I fuck her so I stop for a brief moment to give her some well deserved rest.

She nods. "Yes Aemond. I trust you." I force our faces together before grinning. Willa closes her eyes wants me to kiss her.

"Stupid girl." I tell her. "You are far too trusting. You have learned nothing." I say but I do give her a soft kiss on her lips. She enjoys it. I can tell she does.

She hisses in pain before accepting that this is happening to her. She feels tight. She feels good. I am convinced I died and have entered heaven. I force her hips to join as well, eager for her to show how much she wants this.

Willa joins me and finally my little fox slams back into me, forcing my cock all the way inside of her with a soft delicate moan. I grin when taking her as my conquest and my spoils. She keeps moaning and grunting as I savagely pound at her pussy until she cries of pleasure.

I wait a moment before dealing the final blow to her. "Little fox. It is time for your final punishment. You will never seek out anyone else after this. You will only be mine. Fully. And you will be loyal to me. Fully." I tell her strictly.

She nods so very fast. Everything for her pleasure, I suppose. Poor girl does not know what I have planned for her.

I lift her by her hair, and place her out of the warm water with her ass to my cock. Willa tries to say something but I don't let her. Her ass calls to me the way it did for months now. And finally, when Willa is fully unaware and defenseless I claim my wife's final maidenhead.

A grunt escapes her as she realises I am inside her ass. "Oof! Aemond, what is happening?" She whispers terrified. I don't tell her. I make her understand what is happening.

In the reflection of the mirror I see her eyes go wide and her cheeks burn with shame and horror as I take her final innocent maidenhead and rip it from her body soiling her.

My cock enters her ass and Willa's first reaction is to resist me. Luckily I already counted on this and simply pin her down on thee edge of the tub when massaging her spend little wet cunny. I chuckle when a single tear rolls down her cheeks. "I warned you. One day it would be mine." I tell her. "Now is that day. And Willa, you don't disappoint, my love. Your little ass is almost as good as your cunny and your mouth. I am pleased I wived you. I can't imagine being balls deep inside someone else.' I finish my sentence with a cruel chuckle and a rough pound.

It is not loving. It is too hard. I am using her as my personal slave and my toy. Willas moans fill the room together with my grunts as I take her perfectly tight untouched hole. My Willa is so tight for me. So perfect and so untouched. "Aemond...." She moans my name helplessly. I know my fox too well. She would love to finish and to reach her pleasure.

I don't think so. Not yet anyway. I want to have more fun before she does. "Almost, my fox. Almost. I ask for a bit of patience."

She hisses in pain and cries out when I pound away at her perfect ass grabbing her by both her cheeks to control her. I smack my palms on her ass causing her to cry out and to buck, trying to escape me. I don't let her and keep fucking her ass until my cock finally reaches its hight. I hear Willa's sobs and finally I am able to come inside of my wife's final hole. Her ass.

I fill her up properly as if she may carry my child that way. "You promised it would be a while." Willa speaks her voice hoarse of the crying. I pat her back and give her a kiss on her sweaty black hairs when muttering in high Valyrian. I praise her for being good.

I did not promise her anything. I scoff. "I didn't promise anything." I see her frown, and I know we are close to another argument. So instead, I take control. "Let me see your cunny."

Willa obeys, showing off her red cunt. "O, yes. So wet and needy for me." I grin. "Are you going to be difficult? I like it when my fox hides and fights. That is because a good conquest makes fucking you even sweeter. Did you know that?" I whisper in her ear. She shakes her head.

I am turned on by her coldness and intend to punish her greatly for it. She is still unaware of the monster she had unleashed. I top her once more this time I fuck her cunt.

The first few times, my fox bucks and fights almost admirably. Yet so foolish. Willa does not want me to stop, however. She wants me to change the location. "Aemond, this hurts. Take me to bed. I beg you, husband. You may have me, but the bath hurts so bad..." and especially since I had her ass a moment ago, my fox is in great pain.

Finally, Willa has enough. She stops resisting and I use the opportunity to pin her on the edge of the tub and to ride her pussy. It stretches out when I enter and I feel Willa's walls tightly wrap me as she softly grunts in pain or pleasure. I softly let her know that I am inside her by fucking her gently but fully. She gasps and twists under me. I force her to relax. And I fuck that poor woman in the tub until the water is dirty with sweat cum and blood. Willas cries arouse me deeply.

I want her to scream. I want my fox to lose control and to lose her properness.

"I'm going to make you scream." I tell her when pounding away at her cunny. Willa takes me well. She does her best to make it for the both of us, trying to keep up with my stamina by fucking me back. But my little fox has never been quite active and soon she'll run out of breath.

My name sounds wonderful when it shatters from her lips, burns in her throat and finally is screamed from deep within her soul. I buck away at the spend girl when Willa falls down harshly. I hold her so she can have her orgasm when in the bath. I take in every moment of my hard reward as she moans coming right in front of me. I buck three times and relive how she came undone and come as well properly stuffing my wife up as if she's a disgusting pig.

Willa moans weakly in the water as I stand up to leave. I let her be in the bath, in the disgusting water with the cum and the blood. I first dry off, ignoring my reward. She keeps her eyes on me following every movement where my towel goes.

I chuckle. "Such a castle kept little fox." I murmer in her ear causing her to shiver. I turn her around and cloak her in a towel when using another one to dry off her legs. I kneel in front of Willa and dry off her beautiful tighs before moving to her deliciously but so poorly treated cunny. Willa briefly squeaks when I touch it, so I lean in with my mouth and I give it a soft delicate kiss.

She nearly melts. I smirk continuing drying her off without further protests. I also grab a new fresh nightgown for her and put it on her body for her. Once she is fully dressed I bring her to my bed as my conquest.

I look at the window. I don't know how late it has gotten but the sun is taunting the night with its arrival. Soon it will become light. My wife lies on my usual side, the right side. I shoot her a glance.

Willa smiles innocently. I shake my head moving her to the other side when taking my rightful place beside her in bed. Before I can lay my head down, Willa switches our pillows. "Is this one more to your liking?" I wonder.

She blushes. "That one smells like you." I nod. That makes sense. She must not like that very much. I train a lot and when I try to bath every day two times, my body smell must have creeped into the linen. I can't imagine that's a nice smell.

Willa smiles sheepishly at me. "Ah. I understand. I'll have the maids clean it." I tell her when rubbing her back for her.

Willa is quick to jump up forgetting her pains and injuries. "No don't. I mean, I actually like your smell. It's...comforting." She tells me her voice soft. "I like it. It's as if you are always guarding me and keeping me from harm." I nod as my chaotic dragon blood is considering fucking this innocent fox again. I lean in closer to her and gently kiss her lips. She appreciates it.

After she is lying down, I force my arms around her belly, keeping her safe and close to my body. Willa leans on my chest with her head before falling asleep on top of me. I give her two soft kisses and try to get some sleep as well. Willa gently snores and I mutter that I will keep her safe. At all costs. With any means necessary. Sleep comes soon after that. And for the first time since I lost my eye...

I am not tormented by nightmares or negative thoughts. Only thoughts of my fox and my precious Willa.

this the description of the archive of our own thing ''smut part 2.'' It made me laugh lol

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dantenyhpmir · 4 months

Text

Reunion Part 2

A sequel to Reunion (Not required reading)

Pairing; Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Plot; Simon has just tracked you down and you invite him back to your place to remain inconspicuous.

Warnings; CNC, Oral M!recieving, Choking, unprotected sex, "Slow burn"

Word Count; 4847

Dante Nyhpmir Masterlist

You hadn't had many visitors in your new place and you never expected one of them to be Ghost. You lead him into the kitchen and start the kettle while grabbing some mugs.

"Y' don't need to make anything y/n" he says

"You're gonna turn down a tea?" You smile while reaching up to the top shelf. It's a bit too high for you. You don't have tea very often so you keep it on the highest shelf.

His thoughts were racing. He hadn't seen you in so long. He missed walking behind you in the field, watching your hips sway. It hit differently in your civilian look. Your jeans hugged a lot nicer. Even just you taking off your coat when you entered your apartment hit him like a train. The stretch of your waist as you try to grab the tea. It took him a minute to stop looking, to realize he should help.

He walked up behind you. His looming sent a shiver all the way to your toes as you can feel his chest behind you. You don't turn around yet, knowing your face feels flushed as his arm reaches past you to grab the tea box.

"Yorkshire gold?" He says reading the label.

His favourite. You hadn't forgotten.

His arm wraps in front of you, gesturing for you to take it, still standing behind you. You manage to bring yourself to turn around trapped between his arms and the counter. His eyes glazed, staring at you. Your doe eyes to match, then to where his lips are hiding under his COVID mask and back up to his eyes again. Your mouth practically watering.

"I’ll make it when I’m missing you” you tell him

"You miss me?"

You turn to put the tea bags in the cup, grabbing the creamer and sugar. Breaking his trap around the counter. He takes a step back to lean against it instead. Noticing you remembering exactly how he took his tea.

"Do you doubt that?" You ask

"It was on a shelf you couldn’t exactly reach" he says

Beat.

“Missing you is difficult,” You say with a frog in your throat. You don’t turn to look at him. Just continuing to prepare the tea. The kettle screams and you take it off the burner. A cat comes into the kitchen to see what the noise is from.

"When did you get this lil guy?" He asks

"I got her a couple months ago"

Simon leans down to pet her. She's very open to him. He lets her smell him before delicately petting under her chin.

You always wanted a cat but never had one growing up. Your parents grew up on farms and didn't see the value in an animal that would live in the home. As you got older and entered the military, you couldn't keep one at any base. You could've had a home in other cities but you'd be away from them, which you always felt was unfair to a living creature you agreed to take off.

Ghost knew all this. You told him all about it when you'd be falling asleep in his arms back at the base. He always wanted to know how you grew up. He wanted to know everything about you. Nothing was too mundane. Part of him was happy you could finally have the little company you wanted but he also knew what that meant.

You weren't coming back.

You hand him his tea. You can only hold eye contact for so long before you take a sip to break it, burning your mouth. He doesn't though. It's hard not to look at you. Thinking to himself how stubborn you are, forcing yourself to drink it too soon. Resisting the urge to tease you about it. It wasn’t worth the time, he just wanted to look at you. After he had been missing you every night. Been looking for so long.

"You can't stay here, if they find out you found me I'll have to move again. Not that I don't want your company but, I have grown fond of this place"

"How much time would you give me?"

You pause. It's dangerous for him to stay more than even an hour but, you can't just have an hour. You sip your tea contemplating.

"How long before you get reprimanded?" You ask

"We're long past that Love"

It was already past 10pm, the day had gone by so quickly. You wish it would've slowed down, to spend as much time with him as possible.

"Midnight" you say, "be out by midnight"

"Okay" he says, pulling his mask down to finally have a sip.

God you missed his jaw line. His hands. Everything. Absolutely everything.

"I want to know what happened” he says

"Simon, no"

"Let me-"

"No, Simon. I mean it. You don't want to know what happened to me."

"I know it'll make me react but- "

"To say the least. I don't want you to know."

"You think I wouldn't go after them?"

"No I know that you will and it won't change anything"

"They'd be dead"

"And what? That's supposed to make me feel better?!"

"They couldn't hurt you again. You could come back to work"

The little feline friend rubs up against your legs

"Simon, I'm not coming back."

"But if I get rid of them, you can"

"You and I both know that's not how this works, you can't undo what happened to me"

"I can do SOMETHING?!" he yells

The cat gets freaked out and runs into the living room.

Beat.

You set down the tea cup and go to wrap your arms around him.

"I don't wanna spend this time fighting and I really don't want to spend it telling you what happened. I can't relive it and I can't handle how angry I know you'll get."

He wraps his arms around you, squeezes you tightly.

“I'm sorry” he says quietly

He forgets how worked up he gets, part of you is flattered. Happy to see your guard dog again but that's not the side of him you'd take if you only have a few hours.

Your head feels at home against his chest. Your arms wrapped around him until his body isn't as tense, for his anger to wash away to be turned into relief. To finally see you, be close enough to smell your shampoo and embrace your body. His arms wrap around you, squeezing so tightly. As though if he latches on he could stay well past midnight. Stay in this moment forever.

Beat.

You turn your head to look up at him. He can't turn away from your pretty eyes.

“What new stories do you have from base?” You ask

“Do you care about that right now?”

“I'd ask you anything to be honest, it's just nice hearing your voice again.”

“I wanna know about you.”

Always. Always found new ways to be curious about you. You were his favourite podcast.

“What would you like to know?”

“That you're happy. In this new life.”

“I think so.” You say sheepishly.

“You THINK?”

“It's a bigger adjustment than I expected. I should like freedom, but I find it to be exhausting”

“What do you mean?”

“I just got so used to my days being the same. My plans were laid out. My clothes were chosen, my food was chosen, my mission was chosen. I could just focus on doing my job well…. And you.” You tease with a look.

“You never had much focus” he chirps back

“I get decision fatigue in this kind of life. I'm oddly tired and wish I could turn off my brain.”

His eyes softened as his hands rolled down your sides. His palm just lightly touches the sides of your waist. His thumbs press into the front of your stomach, slowly.

“You miss me bossing you around uh?” His voice is more smokey now. A switch has turned. It was always so easy to flip. He would never turn down any advancement you might make.

“Everyday” you say while your hands skim down his stomach, a finger just slightly trailing the line of his jeans. Your fingerprint runs along the inside of his waistband.You watch your own hands trace the inseam. Your bottom lip, unable to fully shut. Just remembering how much you loved to taste him. As if it didn't plague your thoughts at night. As if it didn't come to mind the second you smell his cologne.

His hand grabs the side of your face, his thumb holding your chin as he moves your head up to face him. Making sure you make eye contact with him with a slight squeeze. God you forgot how big his hands were.

“You need to turn that brain off?” He asks his half shut lids, staring at your lips as they hang open. You nod, practically salivating already. His grip tightens for just a moment before he lets go.

“Knees” he commands.

Beat.

Your hands lower to his belt buckle as you go to undo it but he doesn’t stand for that yet.

“What did I say?”

You pause

“Knees”

“So you can hear”

You pause as you slide down onto the floor, holding onto his belt and looking back up at him for your next command.

“Can I?” You ask, in bated breath

He nods

You can see his chest breathing slowly, almost feel it as you undo the buckle.

“Slower”

You look up at him, as if apologies in your eyes before taking the time to undo the button. Carefully placing your finger tips on the zipper and pulling it down. Finally digging your fingers into the waist band of his boxers and jeans. You shift your weight up so you can look up at him while you pull them both down with your whole body, clearly wanting him. Doing so as slow as possible.

You could listen.

You knew he wasn’t going to just let you play with him right away. He never would. Teasing you was too fun but god how much you missed his cock.

“Use your words” He says

“Can I taste you?” You ask

His hand shifts down to your face, holding it so sweetly in his palm as you stare up at him. It’s just a cute ruse before he gives you a slap. It isn’t painful, but enough of a shock to your system.

“You forget your manners in civilian life too?”

You bite your lip, too excited at what that does to your body. Knowing he was just giving a tester.

“Sometimes” You say looking up at him, no doe eyes. Just fuck me eyes. Just absolutely fuck me up eyes before he gives the side of your face another taste of his palm, harder this time. Enough to sting.

“Let’s try that again” he says sternly

“Can I taste you, please” you whine as the grip around your face tightens. His nose exhales a bit of breath, not enough for a laugh but enough to notice.

“Open your mouth”

You keep eye contact with him, licking your lips slowly before your mouth opens.

“Stick out your tongue”

Finally following orders.

His hand slowly moves over your head and behind your scalp, grabbing a fist full of your hair. He pushes your head just slightly closer.

“Please” you ask

He takes a hold of his cock by the base and flicks it over your tongue.

“Not yet”

He hits it again, harder this time.

“Ask again, I wanna hear your pretty whines.”

“Please” You ask

“Please what?”

“Can I please taste you, Ghost” you breath

He nods and your eyes light up.

Your mouth is practically drooling as you lick both of your palms and grab a hold of the shaft. Your tongue hangs open as it slowly licks from the base of the shaft before your hands and down his cock to the tip. Rolling your tongue around the ends as your hands run along, turning and twisting.

Your head glides back and forth, matching the rhythm of your hands letting as much spit drain from your mouth. Lapping up every drop of pre cum that you can. You want his cock soaked with your saliva as your hands spread every bit of spit around it. You try to contain yourself but your excitement oozes just as much as his cock’s pre cum.

His hand stays in your hair but it doesn’t tighten. He’s relaxing, you can feel it and hear it in his breath as his head tips up and moans. He’s missed you. No one can do this like you can.

Your head’s motion speeds up just a little, as you start to take his cock in your mouth. Not just licking, your tongue hangs out gliding along as you start to take it farther and farther. Your hands help you along in your rhythmic strokes. Your eyes smile up at him, he can’t help but close his. The moans he makes when you’re so close to swallowing him practically have you dripping.

Your eyes focus back on your task. Getting your mouth closer and closer to the base. Saliva practically hanging out of your mouth now, getting into the bottom of your hair. His grip tightens now. He’s back down to earth. This always means he’s too close. Has to catch himself before he cums. Before he makes a mess of your mouth. He hadn’t even begun to fuck you yet and he’d be damned if you had him finish before you.

“Eyes up” he commands as his hand opens up over the back of your head to regrip your hair. Your eyes look at him, they can’t look away as you keep rolling your mouth and hands all over his cock. Your whines exhaling when you can catch your breath.

“Choke on it” He says

Your eyes light up in a bit of a panic as you hear this but by the time your brain processes what he said he’s already pushed your head forward all the way over his cock. Your hands let go as the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. Your hands grab his sides to brace taking all of it as you gag, looking at his treasure trail in front of you before closing your eyes.

He slaps the side of your face again, upping the intensity from before. His palm makes the smack as your eyes light up at his command.

“Eyes. Up” He says slower as you look at him with a bit of fear and shock in your eyes as they water. Your mascara running down your cheeks as he smudges some of it with his thumb.

“You can take it” He says as he lets up, your head following forward just slightly. Enough to catch your breath before he plunges back in. If there was anything that drove him more crazy than your whines it was your gagging. You try to pull your head back a bit but he keeps your head in place as your eyelids fall and the mascara runs thicker.

Beat.

“Good girl” he says as he grabs on tight to your hair and throws you off his cock. Your arms catch you as you kneel over. Coughing and catching your breath.

“What do you say?” He commands as he strokes himself, slowly.

“Thank you” you whisper, still finding your breath.

“What was that?” He asks, looming over you.

“Thank you Ghost” You say with more energy. The bits of it you can find between catching your breath.

His hand glides over your face, gently. Lifting your chin.

“Simon” His thumb running along the bottom of your chin. “You know what I wanna hear Sweetheart.”

He always preferred Simon when you two were intimate. Especially without his mask on. Just his face looking down at you. His eyes trained on you.

“Thank you Simon” You say with a lull. Your eyes tired and smiling through everything. Your hair being a giant knot and the bottoms coated in salvia that drooled from your mouth. Your cheeks stained from your make up. You were an absolute mess and he couldn’t be more excited to wear you out.

His hands feel so good holding your face. It’s tender.

For now.

“I haven’t seen the rest of your place” He says

“You trying to see the bedroom” You laugh through the sweat, biting your lip.

“Show me”

You go to stand up but his grip around your jaw tightens. You look up at him. He keeps you on the floor.

“Crawl”

“My knees are going to be so sore” You say, almost teasing yourself. Still catching your breath.

“Don’t worry, you’ll spend most of the night on your back.” He says as he takes a step forward over you still holding your jaw. Your body falls between his legs as he pushes you back and lets go.

You find yourself sitting on the floor, placed between his legs as he stands over you like a dog. You look up and he holds your jaw line with both hands before saying “GO.”

You crawl out of the kitchen and down the hallway. He doesn’t begin to follow until you turn the corner. Your body is so exhausted already from what he’s put you through. You’ll look over your shoulder to see if he’s following but he hadn’t really moved. Only ushering you to keep going.

As you crawl down the hallway he turns the corner. Watching as your shoulders fall with every step. Your exhaustion drives him wild as he follows you into your bedroom. Finally pulling up next to the bed. You sit down just in front of it. Like a dog as he appears in the doorway. He just stares at you. Patiently waiting for him.

“Simon”

He likes to watch you beg before he walks over, his massive hands wrapping around your waist as he grabs on tight to pick you up. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist and arms hang off his neck as he rushes in to kiss you on your open mouth. You still can’t manage to close it as his mouth presses into your tongue hard while he throws you onto the bed.

You always forget how much bigger he is than you. He only lets his body weight press on you fully for a moment but that’s all it really takes. A good reminder that he can truly have you whenever he wants as though you were in any position anymore to put up a fight. His arms stretch out beside you as he holds himself up. He takes off his shirt from the neck line, pulling it over. It’s hard for you to tear your eyes away but you know he wants you to do the same as you manage to take yours off.

He wastes no time going for your belt and undoing the buckle.

“What happened to going slowly” You tease

He stops. Immediately.

He grabs a hold of your face again, making eye contact for just a moment. He’s not impressed and gives your pretty face another slap just as intense as the last.

“Wanna try that again” he says while grabbing on and shaking your face.

“I’m sorry Simon”

“Say thank you”

“Thank you” You manage to breathe out as he squeezes tighter on your face before throwing it back onto the bed and continuing to undo your belt. His hands grab onto your pants and pull them off as quickly as he can. They teased him long enough before with how they hugged your ass, he wanted to watch his own hands grip you now.

His hand wrap around your neck. His fore arms look so beautiful pinning you down. You can’t help but trace along the veins as they lead to his biceps. How is he possibly so handsome? He puts a bit more pressure on your neck as his other hands trace along the seam of your panties.

“A little pay back” he jokes but you’re already a mess. He knows it. It doesn’t take hardly anything as his fingers trace along the inside of your legs. Just the very tip of his fingers skin along the pelvis. The crevice that connects your thighs to your pelvis was always the most sensitive. He liked watching your chest as your breathes got more intense as he got closer. Only moving slower as he would trace along the crevice next to your cunt. Still not taking off your panties. He wouldn’t. Not until he could see the pre cum stain soak through them. His thumb ran along the side of your labia, just so close to your clit but not close enough.

“Please” You whine

“For me to finally play with your clit?” He says with a squeeze of your neck

“For me to dig my fingers inside you?” His hand tightens again

“Or for me to bury my cock into your cunt?” He says as he presses you harder into the bed

You can’t answer, you can’t really breathe that well before he lets go.

“All of it. All of it. All of it. All of it.” You whine, you’re stuck in a loop, begging.

He smirks listening to you as his thumb runs up your clit over the panties. As if they couldn’t be anymore soaked through, he pulls them off to the side and glides his fingers over you. His thumb just slowly stroking your clit as his index fingers tease your entrance. You rithe around, your hips moving in rythme, excited to finally have his fingers close to you. Smering yourself all over his fingers.

“Jesus you’re wet”

“I can’t help it” You whine “I missed you”

This just sends him over the edge. He doesn’t wait, doesn’t tease you any longer. Just pushes his fingers into you and watches you rithe around. His thumb rolls in delicate circles but it feels like nothing to him. He barely needs to do anything as you bounce around on his fingers.

He stops for a minute, pulling his fingers back and spreading them to see your pre cum stretch across his fingers like thick webbing.

“Look at all that,” he says, playing with it. His hand comes down to your face as the other holds yours in place. “Clean it up.” He says as you lap up and suck on his fingers. This time he doesn't have to tell you to look at him. You don't break eye contact, his eyes in a daze as he watches you. How feral you are. How greedy you are.

“Beg me”

“For what?” You tease

He gives you a harder slap before bringing his hand back to your throat

“Beg. Me.” he says sternly. No more explaining. Just fucking whine. Anything.

Anything.

“Please. Please Simon. Please. Please.”

“Beg me to take you.”

“Please take me, Simon. Please. Take me. I need you. I need you inside me. Please”

“Louder. I want your neighbors to know who you belong to.”

You absolutely wail, pushing out “Please take me Simon, I need you” with bated breath over and over and over and over again before he plunges himself into you. As he thrusts in, he pulls your neck closer as well, tightly. He holds you there, letting yourself adjust to his size as you moan and finally catch your breath. You don’t think anything could make you any wetter but his moans as he pushes into you certainly help as your arms wrap around his back and claw into it. As excited and prepared as your body was for him, it still needs to adjust ot his size.

“Fuck you’re tight” He breathes into your ear, “missed stretchin’ ya out”

He releases his grip a bit, letting your head rest back on the bed as his pelvis goes back. Only to thrust in again and pull your body in by your throat. Again.

And again.

Faster and faster.

“I missed you so much” you say through the tears, it feels so good. You can barely contain yourself.

He holds off on how intense he’s getting. Lifts himself over you, his eyes looking down at you. Always looking down at you before he goes in and kisses your lips as hard as he can. His mouth finally lets go of yours but his head stays close. “Missed you everyday love” he says as if he’s breathing right into your mouth. His forehead touches yours before he starts up again.

“Missed kissing those pretty lips” he says thrusting into you again,

“Missed watching your eyes water” thrusting again

“Missed waking up to you on my chest” Again

“Missed your scratches on my back” Again, faster

“Missed watching your tits bounce everytime I thrust into you” Again, faster and faster

“Missed this cunt the so fucking much” Now just absolutely losing himself, fucking you as hard as he possibly can. You don’t know how long you can actually take this though. You’re so over stimulated as you whine out

“Simon, simon, easy. I don’t know how long I’ll last. I’m already twitching”

“That’s not up to you” He says

“Simon, I am so over-stimulated. Please”

“You don’t cum until I tell you” He says looking into your eyes

“Please, please. For the love of god, PLEASE SIMON”

He won’t stop. Just fucking you as hard as he possibly can. He could go for so long. It was one of your favourite benefits of being with someone so in shape though in this moment it felt painful. The perfect kind of painful.

“You can in 5.” He says

Your eyes cry out, watering again.

“5”

“Simon, this-”

“No no sweetheart. You just hold on”

You whine

“4. You’re doing so well for me. You’re almost there”

Your breathing only gets heavier.

“3. You can let yourself go soon. I promise, you just have to be a good girl a little bit longer.”

“Simon” You whine

“2. You’re almost there. Not yet. Not yet Sweetheart” He says, reminding you of his hand around your throat and pounding into you.

Beat.

“Simon, don’t do this to me!” You cry

“Ask. Nicely.”

“Please, let me cum. Please. Simon. Please”

Beat.

He grins as you whine before whispering into your ear as he thrusts as hard as he possibly can. Going as deep as he could.

“1. Let yourself go baby. Cum for me. Right. Now”

Your body feels like it’s exploding from every angle. Your forgot how intense he could make you cum. Like every single molecule of your body was lit up at once as you cry out. Your fingers taring into his back, leaving marks that should remain for days. No bit of air could find it’s way between you two as you press into his body. Over stimulated as can be, quaking as your latch onto him. Not sure when your body will finally calm down.

Your face when you cum always made him lose his mind, watching you shiver, too. You had already cum but he wasn’t stopping. He wanted to watch you for as long as he could. Until you had begged for enough.

“Simon, SImon, okay. Please. I can’t take more. I can’t take anymore” You whine out as he pushes himself into you one last final time. Hearing you cry about being absolutely wrecked was just enough to tip him over the edge. His body stiffened as he moaned out the deepest breath, pushing himself into you and holding himself there for a moment longer. His weight, all on you now. Catching his own breath before pushing himself up.

You look at eachother for just a moment. He holds himself over you. Starring.

You looked so beautiful.

You looked like an absolute fucking mess.

His beautiful fucking mess.

He leans down to kiss you. Much more gentle this time.

“I missed you so fucking much Love.”

You hold his face.

“I missed you everyday.”

He rolls over. You're both just on your sides staring at each other before he puts his arm around you. You curl up on his chest and his other hand runs along your back. He just watches you. Not saying anything. Not wanting to leave. Hoping you won’t ask him too. It’s well past midnight. He knows it. You know it.

“How long have you been looking for me?”

“An embarrassing amount of time” he says

“Tell me, the last few days? A month? A couple?” you say, your hands holding the side of his face. Your fingertips feel his stubble.

“A week after you were relocated” He says not able to look at you.

You had been gone for over a year at this point.

“You spent that long trying to find me?” You say as you tilt his head to look back at you. His eyes match yours.

He nods.

“I’m always gonna take care of you.”

Dante Nyhpmir Masterlist

#cod mw19 #simon ghost riley #ghost #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley art #storytime #cod mw2

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