#I am so upset after last night’s episode | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nicksolemnlyswears · 4 months ago

Note

hi! i just saw the ask you answered about leaving aemond out and i giggled.

if i may offer an idea, what about if reader finds out where aemond goes to find comfort (the brothel) and is upset because she thought differently of him but maybe he confesses what he actually does there (tittie suckin and therapy) and she offers aemond her own comfort. maybe reader looks more like their mother and it's exactly what aemond wants/needs. he's such a broken boy with horrible mommy issues.

this is not me at all telling you that you NEED to write a fic about this. i just had this idea jumbled around in my head and i don't know how to write it myself. 😂

thank you for your fics. they are truly wonderful. 💜

pairing: aemond targaryen x hightower!reader

word count: ~8.3k

warnings: 18+, cursing, spoilers of s2 of hotd, talks about brothels and prostitutes, fingering, p in v, lactation (milk play? i don't even know what i did), nipple play, slight mommy kink (or a lot depending how you see it), talks of infidelity, slight somno, riding

a/n: it's funny that this ask was sent cause i had something similar in mind. so this came super easily to me. i added some fire to the reader cause after ep 4 of hotd i was so angry at aemond (and still am). i can't believe he did that to aegon (he's my boy of the season) not to mention what he did to queen meleys and queen rhaenys. i'm not sure if i'd be able to forgive him. @heybank i hope this is somewhat like what you had in mind!

it came out a little longer than expect but nonetheless i hope you all enjoy! also aemond is stubborn in this fic but an equally stubborn reader and i love her for it. the reader and aegon are lowkey besties because i only want the best for him lol so don't mind that. i am ecstatic for the next episode and see the fall out of ep 4.

do you know the struggle i had to find aemond's whore's name. omg most difficult part of this oneshot.

after this fic i think i need to go to church and confess. i'm sure the priest will douse me in holy water and make me pray a hundred holy marys or something.

enjoy!!

It slipped out in the midst of their endless teasing and banter. The one secret Aemond never wished for you to find out. You're strong enough to know about the others; you recognize who he truly is at his core: an ambitious, envious man, but this one secret? This one he prayed you never knew about.

Aegon and you had been indulging in the sweet wine imported from High Garden. A delicacy that made your head fuzzy and your body loose. After finding you strolling all alone through the gardens, he insisted on drinking with you. If someone were to appease him by complaining about matters of the council, it would be you.

Those meetings drag on for hours on end on multiple occasions during the day as ravens fly in to share news of the brewing war. It robs you of your husband's attention and robs Aegon of his will to live as they tell him what to do and say, completely ignoring any input he might have—as idiotic as it may be.

You meet your distant cousin midway, complaining about how boring the meetings are and how uptight everyone is, including your husband. You offer the new King honest advice disguised as flippant comments, hoping he'll accept it even if he thinks of it as his own.

"It's not like I'm the only one who indulges in the pleasure of the street of silk. Every nobleman loves to get their cock wet by those whores," Aegon mumbles as a response to being reprimanded for his escapade late last night with his guards.

The charitable King paid for the villager's drinks and entertainment for the night. It was a prosperous night for the brothel. The 'ladies' will do just about anything to get coin. Who says the King doesn't aid his subordinates in need?

You stifle a laugh with the back of your hand and shake your head at him, "Yes, but you're the King now. It's not about laying with a commoner. It's about security. There are people who would do just about anything to gain Rhaenyra's favor, including hurting you, Aegon…"

Reasoning with Aegon is a challenge. His mind spins in ways you will never comprehend, but you try to keep your cousin safe while appeasing the council.

If Aegon values something, it's his life. If he knows there is danger out there, he will hold back, even if it's for a night or two. Her duty as his friend is to keep reminding him of all the danger lurking in the dark corners of the silk street.

"I suppose you're right, dear cousin. Guess we'll have to bring them here," he laughs as he thinks of the pandemonium it will cause. "I'll have Thalia and Margery or perhaps Dorothy. Hell, why limit myself? I'm the King! The guards can have their pick of the lot, Aemond will have his old reliable, and Lord Lannister can have the beautiful Sarah."

Aegon tips his goblet, drinking the last drops of wine to quench his dry mouth, failing to notice his slip-up.

Aemond's name sends a burning chill down your spine, and your mouth turns to cotton as it dries up. As you repeat Aegon's words, your heart promises to break out of your ribcage. Surely, you misunderstood his words.

"Aemond's old reliable?" You laugh to keep Aegon at ease. Grabbing the pitcher of wine to fill both of your cups, urging him to drink more and get his tongue looser. He won't remember your interrogation by morning.

"Ah yes, the first woman he fucked. Thanks to me, might I add. He still loves to visit her. I'd say her tits got him all enamored."

Just like the women in court, Aegon prattles on and on about everything he knows about Aemond and his whore. Including how he found him laying with her just last night—naked as the day he was born, blue sapphire glinting freely under the candlelight.

Blinding hot fury courses through your veins, lighting you up in flames from the inside out. Aegon will assume your reddening face and chest are from the wine and his vulgar words. There is no use in correcting him as you urge him to continue talking.

By night's end, you are equally as drunk as Aegon. The Guards escort you both to your respective chambers, watching amusedly how you argue with Aegon about whose dragon is strongest, Sunfyre or Dreamfyre. In reality, you were plotting which sibling would aid you in yelling dracarys in Aemond's direction.

You wish the alcohol would make you forget, but the sad truth is you will remember every single detail. The pounding headache you'll have in the morning will be a painful reminder of the secrets spilled over red wine.

For a fortnight, you sit and think about the valuable information Aegon shared with you. Anger burns ardently inside of you as it has nowhere to go. As a lady of the court, you're not allowed to train with the men, and as a Hightower, you have no dragon to channel that anger through.

If your fury were to be caused by any other reason, you'd find release in Aemond's arms. His aching cock stroking your drenched walls fervently. His sweaty skin sticking to yours. His fingers digging into your curves to find purchase. The low tone of his voice in your ear whispering words you'd never dare repeat and shamefully make you peak around him.

The thought makes you sick. How many times has he fucked her in such a way? Is it different? Does he let go and fuck her harder as he's not afraid she'll break?

Thinking is your worst enemy. As you imagine every possible scenario, your insecurities rise from their hiding spots. Does he love her? He laid bare with her; he must feel something if he allowed her to see him in such a vulnerable position.

The memory of the first time he took off his eyepatch in your presence pains you. So many conversations and stones of trust had to be set to get to that point, yet he did it with her. A common whore that dares ask for coin to please him with her presence.

You are different from the other ladies of the court who accept their husbands sleeping around with unknown women. You are jealous and territorial, something Aemond knew when you married. Under the eyes of the seven, he swore that his loyalties lay solely with you.

Alas, all men do is lie. Not even the noblest of men can be trusted. All you asked for was a good husband that would not embarrass you. How foolish of you to believe Aemond would be it.

Your fury grows and manifests as you observe Aemond and his whereabouts. It's hard to keep your anger at bay, but he's too busy plotting with Criston Cole to notice your withdrawing nature and emotional distance.

Visiting his quarters nearly every night tells you all you need to know. In that fortnight, you find him missing a multitude of times. There's no doubt he's in the brothel. Where else might he be deep into the night as the world sleeps?

When you ask about his location, the guards hesitate and stumble over their words. They try to save their necks by lying because the Prince continues to slip from their grasp time and time again. They are not as skillful at lying as your husband.

Having had enough, you wait for Aemond's return in his quarters. A goblet of wine is balanced between your fingers. The red liquid swirls along the rounded goblet, mimicking how your anger swirls around you.

You observe the map laid out on the wooden table. His plans are incredibly different from Aegon's. You pity the King as his most trusted advisor and Hand do as they please behind his back.

You've barely drank the wine. The goblet is merely a distraction from your fidgeting hands. You do not need the courage it provides; your anger fuels your intentions.

Old stone rumbles and sets behind you. Turning on your seat, you find Aemond emerging from one of Maegor's tunnels. This is how he sneaks out so damn easily.

"Wife," Aemond greets, keeping his composure, but his tense posture reveals shock. Your husband tends to wear a relaxed stance in your presence. You're the last person he expected to be waiting for him.

"Husband," you reply. The word is bitter on your tongue.

"What brings you in so late? You should be resting," Aemond speaks, taking off his cloak and approaching your seated figure.

Your eyes lazily move up to meet his. "Rest," you chuckle humorlessly. "I haven't been able to find rest in weeks."

"Does something ail you? Should I call a maester?" He asks, giving you a once over. Other than the dark circles around your eyes, there seems to be nothing out of place.

You're still you. Beautiful copper hair that easily identifies you as a Hightower flows down your back, and big brown eyes that resemble his mother's look back at him, although contempt has replaced the unconditional adoration that typically resides there.

His worry sickens you. His existence is an annoyance like a pebble in your shoe. You've harbored this anger for too long, and simple distaste can quickly transform into hate.

"Where were you?" You ask, raising an eyebrow. He's not going to get out of this. He must face the consequences of his actions. You will not live in bitterness while he runs around doing as he pleases.

"Conducting some business for the King." Aemond tilts his head, observing your posture and the set of your eyebrows. There's an electricity around you that shoots warning signs at him.

"Where. Were. You?"

"I'm afraid it is none of your business," Aemond says with a sharp exhale. He steps away to avoid your glaring gaze, unbuckling his sheath and setting it on one of the many desks that litter his room.

"I didn't realize we were keeping secrets from each other." The goblet's thud on the table is as loud as your unspoken fury. Wine splashes on the map like blood will spill in battle.

"There are always secrets. I have them. You have them," Aemond answers, leaning back on the desk.

Your hands smooth down the fabric of your dress as you stand. Finding his calculating gaze, you say, "So that's what you call your whore over at the silk street? A secret? I thought her name was Sylvi?"

Aemond freezes, and his muscles tense. You can't possibly know. He's entirely still as if the action would stop time and give him a chance to come up with an explanation, a lie. "I do not know what you speak of," the hesitancy of his voice unveils the cruel truth.

"Spare me the lies, and do not treat me like a naive maiden, Aemond. You know how much I loathe being made a fool," you snap loudly.

Aemond takes three long strides to reach you. Reacting, you take a step back but have nowhere to go. He doesn't touch you, but Aemond towers over you as he glares back. "Who told you? Was it Aegon?" He hisses.

"Please," you scoff. "The maids talk, the guards talk, husband. It was only a matter of time. Did you think I'd never find out? Are you truly that dense, Aemond?"

Your glare is sharp enough to cut him. He fell in love with that look when directed at others, but now that it's looking straight at him, he finds it's the one thing he might hate most.

All people around him have looked at him like that at some point. Aegon. Daemon. Jacaerys. Alicent. All except for his sweet sister and you, his beloved wife.

That look alone makes him regret stepping into the brothel many moons ago.

You should've never found out about Sylvi. It was meant to be a fleeting moment, but the war takes a toll on everyone, including Aemond.

Alicent's disapproving attitude towards him after Lucerys' incident led him to the whore more times than he can count as he sought the comfort Alicent never gave him and he craved.

"What is it that whore gives you that I do not?" You maintain eye contact as your chest presses against his. Your stubbornness will not let you back away from this argument. You deserve an answer.

You thought you were a good wife. Because of you, Aemond has two sons. You provided male heirs, a nobleman's dream. You warmed his bed whenever he asked and even when he didn't. You confided in him. You chose him.

"Talk, damn it. Your scheming plans won't get you out of this one," you yell, slamming your fists on his chest. Picking a fight is the only thing you have left. You want to scream at him until your voice turns raw.

"There is nothing to say. She's a quick fuck; that's all she is," Aemond seamlessly lies, grabbing your thundering fists. His thumb rubs over the back of your hands, hoping the calming gesture will tame your anger.

"A quick fuck? I could've been queen if I tolerated Aegon's quick fucks. The option was right there, and I chose you because I stupidly believed you'd make a better husband," you scream as your cheeks turn an unbelievable shade of red.

"Wife, please," Aemond pleads as you remind him.

The choice to wed you was not his to make. It was entirely yours. Each night, he prayed you'd choose to marry him. A woman of incredible smarts and hypnotizing beauty deserved to be with a man who acknowledged those attributes, not a blundering man like Aegon, who would only use her for her body.

"Do not touch me," you spit, tearing your wrists from his grasp and pushing him back with all the muster you could gather. "How dare you try to touch me after you've laid with her? After you fucked her? You repulse me."

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes as you spew your words. Aemond stands there, taking it all of your fury—he deserves it. What you hate the most is that he does nothing to defend himself, as if all of your words are the maddening truth.

"It was not my intention to hurt you," Aemond swallows as tears fall down your cheeks.

"These tears do not stem from hurt. They are from humiliation. You embarrassed me, Aemond. Do you know how many hours I've spent praising you in front of the other ladies of the court, speaking about how perfect of a husband you've been these past two years?"

Your pride might be bigger than his, and he's done the worst thing he could ever do— wound it. Such a prideful woman will only forgive him if there's a good enough reason and with lots of begging.

At his silence, you push past him and reach for the door. "I've made my duty as your wife and given you two sons. Do not expect more from me. Go to your little whore and see if she'll perform the wifely duties you asked from me." With one more glance towards your husband, you slam the door.

It is no mystery why Aemond is in a mood from that night forward. Guards stand straighter with him around, Aegon's so-called friends keep quiet, and Criston Cole bears the brunt of it all as Aemond calls him to spar. Each passing day becomes more brutal.

You have stayed true to your word and kept your distance from Aemond. You've never felt as far away from him as when you sit by him during meals. You no longer place your hand on his thigh when Aegon throws jabs at him or smile his way when he says something worth admiring.

If you must address him regarding the children, you do so but with a straight face and without awaiting his answer. The Red Keep has turned grey as you no longer pull him through the halls between duties to find a dark corner to kiss or touch him. Fleeting moments he truly cherished.

He's losing you, and he doesn't know what to do to fix it. He's sure that you will never look at him the same if he comes clean with the truth. It will burn whatever thread is left of your marriage.

"Aemond, what's the matter?" Alicent asks. They're in her quarters discussing one of the many plans to prepare for war, and yet he's not paying attention.

"Nothing," he says softly, eyeing the map in front of him. We should send our men to the east."

Alicent tilts her head and sits across from him, studying him closely. "Is this about your wife?"

The glint the young Hightower carries is missing. Her constant search for Aemond throughout the day has ceased abruptly, startling Alicent and Helaena. She rarely mentions him, only speaking about him when asked, and even then, her words have bite.

Alicen believed her son could do no wrong regarding his wife. Aemond adored you. He pinned after you from the moment it was announced that you were searching for a husband.

Alicent was hesitant at first. Marrying inside the family was a queer Targaryen custom, not a Hightower one, yet Otto insisted. Another Hightower in the Red Keep meant more power. He pushed you to marry Aegon while Aemond asked Alicent to consider him instead. She left it in your hands. It was only fair that you made the choice of who you shared your life with.

Aemond is silent momentarily, "She's upset with me." His words are short as he avoids talking about the subject.

"What did you do?" Alicent sighs disappointedly, leaning back on her chair. Why must her sons ruin all good things in their lives?

Alicent's reaction causes him to close back up just as quickly. Yes, it is his fault, but his mother's lack of faith is disheartening. Once upon a time, Aemond would've confided in his mother, but recent events have severed that trust. "My marital problems are none of your concern."

"Then how am I to help you fix this?" She asks in a knowing tone. Alicent feels the weight of her house on her shoulders. She's responsible for keeping everything together.

"I don't recall asking for your help, mother." Aemond ignores her judging eyes, moving the metal pieces around the map. He was here to make war plans, not talk about his feelings.

"Very well," Alicent clears her throat, moving farther away from her son. The gods are punishing as each one of her children drift away from her.

Unlike Aemond's mother, you take your duty as a mother quite seriously. Your children are all you have, and you cherish them equally. You refused a wet nurse when you birthed your first, and when the second followed a year after, you proceeded to do the same.

Feeding them from your breast brings a wave of emotion that is impossible to describe. The bond that forms between mother and child is strengthened by this natural action. Why do the other ladies in court not do the same? All they do is gossip and indulge in the luxuries of the keep. They have no responsibilities other than to please their husbands and care for their children.

The loud cries of your youngest filter through the door and echo throughout the halls of the keep. The babe has been incessantly crying for the past hour for no reason. Feeding and changing his nappy did nothing to ease his discomfort, leaving you overwhelmed. Nonetheless, you continue to soothe your child because if you didn't, what kind of mother would you be?

You ignore Aemond as he steps into your chambers, bouncing the eleven-month-old in your arms. He must've followed the cries. "There, there, Baelor," you coo, placing your hand on the back of his head, brushing through the thin strands of pale silver hair.

The babe continues to sniffle and release weak cries. The poor thing is exhausted yet refuses to sleep. He hangs onto his mother's dress and hair, opening and closing his chubby fist.

Aemond approaches you, extending his hands to take him from you, "May I?"

You cannot refuse him. Baelor is his son, and while he seeks the pleasure of common whores you know he adores his sons.

Baelor is fuzzy and complains when he's taken away from your warm embrace, but he immediately settles in his father's hold when he recognizes him. The smell of Aemond's leather clothes offered him the comfort he was searching for.

Baelor missed his father.

"Clearly, you're his favorite," you murmur, settling down in the chaise that faces the fireplace. You're worse for wear. It's hard to find rest when questions remain unanswered, and you've lost the person you love most.

"Only till it's time to feed," Aemond says to lighten the mood between you.

You scoff, removing your jewelry and tossing it on the cushion beside you. "Great, I'm a glorified cow, only used to feed."

Aemond falters, his hold on his son tightening as he curls closer into Aemond's neck. Baelor's soft breaths tickle his neck. "That's not what I meant, wife."

You continue to stare into the fire as tears line your eyes. "I know," you whisper. It's been a difficult day.

Had you not been betrayed by Aemond, you would've sought his attention and spilled all the thoughts running through your mind so he could tell you you were being unreasonable.

He would reassure you that you're intelligent, beautiful, a wonderful mother, cunning, captivating, and a dream come to life.

You're punishing yourself. You decided to distance yourself, and came to the horrid realization that it is much harder than you bargained. You underestimated what three years of always being together would do to you.

Aemond catches on to your apprehension and puts a sleeping Baelor on the cradle the nursemaid left by your bed. He returns to your side and kneels on the floor right by your feet.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes for the first time since that night. It's been a long, difficult four weeks without you by his side. He misses all the little things you did for him.

All the check-ups throughout the day to make sure he's broken fast or slept well. Brushing his hair at night before he takes you to bed and shows you his gratitude. Your eyes meeting his across the room, suggesting he takes you elsewhere for a stolen private moment away from everyone else.

He misses you telling him about everything Baelor and Rhaegar got up to in the day and about every new milestone they hit, suggesting they are as healthy as they can be. He misses the late nights spent tangled together, talking about what the future holds for you both, the idea of having a baby girl for Rhaegar and Baelor to protect.

"What do you apologize for now?"

"For betraying your trust. I made an oath and broke it, and for that, I apologize. It is my biggest regret in life," Aemond says, reaching for your hand. "Please, forgive me."

"Then why do you continue to lie?" You whisper as a tear rolls down your cheeks.

"That's the only truth there is," Aemond whispers breathlessly. You give him a pitiful chuckle and tug your hand away from his despite wanting to hold onto it forever.

Your nose burns as more tears spill from your eyes. Insecurity wrapping you in its arms. "Please, do not lie. Why do you want me to believe you went to the brothel for a fleeting pleasure when I have always been here? Am I not good enough for you?"

Your anger has simmered down to a smoky sadness that envelops you. Aemond is lying to you when you're the person he's supposed to trust the most. If there is a chance of rebuilding this marriage, he must tell you the truth, even if it ruins you.

"Gods, you are everything I wanted and more, my sweet wife," Aemond speaks, cupping your face to wipe away your salty tears.

He's at a loss. He's hurt you, but the pain can be remedied if he speaks the truth. How can he allow you to believe you're not enough when you're the perfect woman. His endeavors in the street of silk stem from his own damaged soul, never yours.

"I am afraid," Aemond confesses, brushing one last tear with the pad of his thumb before he retreats his hands. You stare back at him, puzzled. "It is not what you believe. I have not laid with another woman since I married you."

"Then what is it, Aemond? Because my mind has conjured up the worst of scenarios."

"You will not think of me the same," he says, ashamed, hanging his head to avoid your hurt gaze.

"Is that such a bad thing?" You ask aloud, and without awaiting his response, you continue to speak, "Until you work up the courage to tell me the truth, things will remain the same. No matter how much it hurts."

Standing, you leave Aemond kneeling on the floor to prepare for sleep. You glance over your shoulder and watch Aemond stare deep into the fire. When you step out of the privacy screen, he's gone.

It takes another week of agony for Aemond to come to a decision. He cannot bear having you so close yet so far away. He misses you and greatly underestimates how much happier you make him.

He hasn't been to the brothel since the night you confronted him. He barely spares it a thought nowadays. You are the only person wreaking havoc in his head.

He fucked up his marriage, and now he has to pay his dues, even if it means coming clean about his intentions with Sylvi. It was barely sexual, he hasn't fucked her since he married you, but he couldn't let go of the comfort she provided, and Alicent withdrew.

He's smart enough to know it's a farce. The women in the brothel will do just about anything if it means they are paid. But Aemond deluded himself into believing Sylvi cared about what he had to say and told her things he hadn't spoken to anyone else. She played the part well, giving advice freely and reassuring him with soft touches and softer words.

When the guard opens the door to Aemond's chambers, allowing you to enter, he instantly stands, approaching you to ask for your hand and kiss the back of it.

You raise an eyebrow at him but allow him nonetheless. The press of his lips to your skin sends a spark up your arm and down your spine.

"Wife," he greets, guiding you to sit.

"Aemond," you reply, not quite giving in to his sweet actions. Aemond summoned you with the promise of the truth. That is why you're here.

"How does the day find you?"

"Aemond, please," you plead. You came for the truth, and niceties won't do anything to soften the brunt of his words. Prolonging this won't help anyone.

"Very well," Aemond sighs, gesturing you to sit. His hands remain on his lap where he opens and closes them anxiously. "I met her when I was three and ten. Aegon forced me to the brothel because he thought it was time I…became a man."

You dare not speak as Aemond justifies his actions. You need to know the truth before your nerves consume you.

This is the tricky part of his story. After a brief pause, he clears his throat and continues, "She was far older than I was and offered something I lacked in the Keep. Comfort, solace, familiarity, whatever you want to call it. I continued to visit her throughout my youth, although it wasn't always to find release rather than someone to listen and give me what my mother never could."

Aemond avoids looking at you, afraid of what he might find written on your face. Perhaps disgust, shame, or disapproval.

He owed you the truth, so he spoke about all the details of this affair. How he liked the intimacy of lying naked with Sylvi, suckling at her breast. How she would hold him in her arms and touch him. The advice she would offer. The things they spoke about. How he rejects her when she makes any advances, thinking that's what he wants. He admits that he is completely vulnerable and free for those hours because she will have his side no matter what he says.

"Do you have feelings for her?" Your voice is barely above a whisper. It's terrifying to think he might harbor feelings for her. Such intimate acts easily allow feelings to infiltrate one's being. "Aemond, look at me."

Hesitantly, Aemond meets your eyes. Your face is blank, devoid of emotion that may indicate what you now think of him.

"No, and I never will," Aemond says, swallowing the lump in his throat. He chooses his words carefully, "She was an escape, someone to listen to the tragedy that was my life. She knew what I wanted and gave it unsolicited. I know it is not real, wife, but I was foolish enough to seek more."

The emotion that surfaces in your face is not directed at him; instead, it reflects the insecurities you have about yourself. "Did you not think I could give you what she did and actually mean it?"

Insecurities of his own rise up and make themselves shown, "I thought you would see me as a weaker man."

You're both so young with so much to learn, yet if there is one thing you're certain about, it's the love you share. That love would never make you see Aemond as weak; it would transform that quality he refers to as weak into something totally different and positive.

"You are not weak but a fool," you shake your head, reaching for him. It is your turn to cup his face to force him to focus only on you. "I know of those feelings you hide firmly, Aemond. I spent most of my childhood here in King's Landing. I watched while Aegon and the Strong boys teased you. I was here when you returned from Driftmark without an eye. I heard your cries of pain. You come off as this stoic man to everyone else, the fierce Aemond, but I know the real you."

"I am ashamed." Aemond is truthful. No more lies weight his beating heart.

"Do you swear to never look for her again? That you will come to me instead?"

"I swear it by the old gods and the new. I swear it by the seven. I swear it by my life," Aemond promises. "Will you return to me, wife?" He asks hopefully, placing his hands over yours, afraid your touch will leave him.

"Yes, husband," you nod, pressing your forehead against his.

Your lips find his as the last word you speak is uttered. It's been far too long, and his dragon blood is calling for you. Aemond is quick to react, moving his lips desperately against yours and pulling you to his lap.

He comes to you late at night once there are no more council calls or responsibilities to tend to. It's around that time when he has nothing to busy himself with, and the ache in his chest makes itself known.

It's a constant reminder that he is far from invincible. Pain and hurt live within him, ready to resurface at the most unexpected times.

"Husband." You greet him with a bright smile when he steps into your chambers.

"Wife," he speaks quietly, standing uncomfortably by your door. While he's agreed to come to you in his times of need, Aemond is unsure how to approach the situation.

"What is the matter?" A pout adorns your lips as you walk over to him. It's genuine concern.

Aemond stiffens when you approach him, tilting your head to assess him. You wrap your arms around his waist, searching for his gaze.

"Aemond?" You call to him softly.

"Please," he whispers with shaking hands that he places on your hips. The expensive material of your night shift is soft against his palms.

The tone of his voice and the reserved behavior tell you what he's asking for. You nod wordlessly and grab his hand, guiding him to your bed.

This is unlike those moments when passion takes over and desperate need forces you to tug and tear his clothes away. With patience and delicate fingers, you calmly help him undress.

Unbuckling the clasps of his leather doublet, you slide it down his arms and throw it to the side. The tunic that covers his chest comes off next, exposing the strong panels of his abdomen and the ropes of muscle of his arms. All a result of his extensive training.

Featherlight touches to his skin make his breath hitch as they slide down to his breeches, where you agilely untie the laces. You don't meet his eyes as you do so, giving him some resemblance of modesty, but Aemond watches intently how you treat him with such care.

You gently push him to sit on the bed, where you kneel to take off his boots and socks. Aemond allows his breeches to fall to the ground, leaving him completely naked, except for the eyepatch he wears like armor.

It protects him from the disgusted expressions people shoot him with because of the deformity he acquired as a child.

It never stops hurting.

You've never been repulsed by his missing eye. On the contrary, you're fascinated by the scar and the sapphire embedded in the empty socket.

Reaching around his head, you unclasp the leather and place the eyepatch with the rest of his clothing. You offer him a delicate smile while placing your hand on his cheek, and he leans into it.

Your touch on his raised scar eases the pain.

Withdrawing from him, you tug in the lacing of your night shift and shrug it off your shoulders to uncover your body. You had promised to offer him the same care she did in that wretched place.

The bed is covered by pillows and blankets to protect you from the cold of the incoming winter, and you mentally thank the maids for preparing the fire before they left you to rest. You lie over the furs, extending your hand towards Aemond to welcome him in.

Aemond's timidness is present, but he pushes it to the side as he climbs onto the bed and settles across your lap. Your skin is soft and warm against his, and your soft curves, molded to accommodate his children, bring him comfort.

As you brush through his hair with your fingers, you gently untie the band holding half of his hair up. You massage the silver tresses, his scalp prickling from the release of tension. He hums quietly, enjoying the feeling of your fingers on his hair.

"What troubles you, my Prince?" You finally ask.

Aemond's head rests on your shoulder, his breath hitting your collarbones. One of your hands rests upon his back, drawing figures across the expanse of it, feeling every bump and curve of his spine and muscles. The other grasps his hand, pulling it to your lips to press a reassuring kiss to the palm of it.

"That title. Prince." He murmurs sadly, taking a deep breath.

That familiar scent of oils invades his senses. It's a smell he remembers from his childhood when Alicent still cared for him. In turn, his body relaxes, and he closes his eyes momentarily.

"It is a stepping stone in the hierarchy," you reply, recognizing what he implies. Aegon does not have what it takes to rule a kingdom, while Aemond years to sit on the throne.

Aemond reaches up to grasp at a strand of copper hair. The same shade as his mothers. He twists it around his finger while shifting to make himself more comfortable. "I thought all of my achievements would be more fruitful," he ponders.

It seems that ruling a kingdom falls on the eldest male heir, even if they are not fit to rule. Aegon sits on the throne, yet the rest of the council rules on his behalf. This puts the Targaryen name to shame; the fool barely speaks High Valyrian.

"Patience is key. Aegon shows no signs of changing. He will be his own downfall," you respond thoughtfully. You hate thinking about Aegon in such a way, but it's the truth. He wants to prove himself so badly but goes about it all the wrong way.

Copper hair leads to naked skin the same shade as his mother's, and for once, he can imagine himself in his mother's embrace. It brings tears to his eyes as he curls further into you, and his nose brushes against your skin.

With the pillows propping you up and Aemond curled on your lap, you press a kiss to the crown of his head. Your touch runs all over his skin, from his face to his feet.

Aemond continues to speak his mind, and you offer the perfect responses to his dilemmas, calming him when his emotions get the best of him and tears spill from his eyes.

He should've come to you sooner. You're a high-born lady who knows much more about life in court. There were always warning signs with Sylvi. She tried to manipulate him into thinking about the common folk and their ailments more than once. She would never understand that while House Targaryen is at war, there is no space to think about the well-being of its subordinates.

When silence ensues, Aemond allows himself to look up at you. You're serene as you hold him close to your body without an ounce of impatience. The resemblance to his mother is there, but he got something much better.

He got a woman who loves him unconditionally, flaws and all.

Lacing his fingers with yours, Aemond closes his eyes and melts further into your touch. You hug him close and whisper your affections. This is how it was always meant to be.

That night, Aemond sleeps in your chambers. It would be wrong for him to leave after you've treated him with such tenderness. You are no simple whore from the street of silk. You are his wife, and as such, you are meant to be treated with utmost respect. Something he had failed to do but no more.

Breathy whines, wake him before the sun rises. Recognizing your voice, he wakes, looking at his surroundings for any danger. When you whine once more, he glances over at you.

You squirm in your sleep, seemingly uncomfortable. Something bothers you, but your exhaustion prevents you from waking. One of your hands reaches for your chest, and another whine spills from your lips.

Aemond's eye is drawn to the action. He reaches for the sheet covering your body and pulls on it to find the cause of your discomfort. His breath hitches, and his cock aches.

Your breasts are swollen and tender from being filled to their capacity, causing beads of milk to leak from the stiff peaks of your nipples.

Aemond briefly remembers you mentioning how Baelor has been fuzzy lately, and Rhaegar is getting older and doesn't seek you as often for food, yet you continue to produce copious amounts of milk. He has been blessed with a perfect wife and an excellent mother who produces enough sustenance for his children.

Aemond's pointer finger traces a path down your neck to your left breast. They are calling to him as his finger follows the curve of your breast up to your puffy areola and tip of your nipple. A slight press to the taught skin prompts more fluid to leak down your sides, and you hiss in discomfort.

Bringing his finger up to his lips, he licks the whitish liquid. Perhaps it's a mistake, as he's left wanting more. Aemond uncovers the top half of your naked body and leans over your chest. With one look towards your beautiful face, he wraps his lips around the plush flesh of your breast.A surge of liquid fills his mouth.

You have the sweetest milk he has ever had the pleasure of tasting. Aemond moans at the saccharine taste. It is so much better than the farce he had in the brothel. This milk comes from his wife, who nurtures his healthy sons.

A loud, sultry moan spills from your lips as some of the pressure is alleviated. You're now between sleep and awareness. Your hand cradling the back of Aemond's head.

Aemond's cock is painfully hard as it presses against your thigh. He's been driven into a frenzy, your milk serving as an aphrodisiac. His hand brushes against your inner thigh to answer a rising question.

Careful fingers find your wet slit, proving his theory right. He's not the only depraved person in the room. Your body is responsive to him even in altered states of consciousness.

Your cunt is absolutely drenched, making it so easy for Aemond to push a finger in. It's enough to fully wake you from your slumber. "Ah, Aemond." You throw your head back in pleasure.

It takes you a second to take in the entirety of Aemond's actions. The pleasure coursing through you, overwhelming your senses. A loud moan tears through your throat at the realization that Aemond is not simply teasing your breasts. Aemond feasts on your aching tits.

"Have your fill, my prince," you beg as that ache in your chest is pleasingly soothed.

Aemond is eager and rough. The light stubble of his jaw sends a current of electricity down to your cunt where you clench around his fingers.

"My Aemond, good boy." He responds to the praise why sliding another finger into your tight cunny. The slick sound of your arousal accompanies the suckling of his lips.

You squeeze your other breast to alleviate the tightening discomfort and drops fall on your hand. Drawn to it, Aemond switches, and you squeal as his teeth scrape the sensitive skin of your nipple.

Aemond ruts into your thigh as he quickens the pace of his fingers intruding on your cunny to part through your walls. The vibration of his quiet moans stimulates your swollen peaks.

If this is not heaven, he doesn't wish for it.

Your fingers tangle in his silver hair when you arch your back to offer yourself to him. His eye meets your hooded gaze and sets himself to give you whatever you please. His thumb circles your pearl expertly, and he curls his digits to hit your spot more firmly.

You cry in pleasure with your hips, riding his fingers until you come with a shudder and his name on your lips. Your walls clamp down on his fingers hard enough it is hard for him to retrieve them.

Aemond rises from your chest and pinches your cheeks with his fingers that remain coated with your slick, prompting your mouth to open. A stream of your milk falls from his mouth to yours as he gives you a sweet taste.

You believe another orgasm rips through your body as his lips press against yours to share a sweet tasting kiss. His tongue invades your mouth, allowing you the pleasure of tasting yourself on his tongue.

"Please," you beg for him, spreading your legs wantonly.

One to indulge his wife in all pleasures, Aemond pulls you on top of him, "Take what you desire."

His cock is fully erect and begging for attention. The tip is swollen and flushed a deep pink as it leaks pre that beads down his shaft.

Aemond acknowledges you've reached your limit when his beautiful wife, who adores worshipping his cock on her knees, grabs his length and sinks onto him without a preamble.

"Go on, my love, you can take it," Aemond hisses as you try to lower yourself to take all of him. His hands grip your hips tightly, urging you on. He swears your walls continue to contract from your previous peak.

"Aemond, husband," you moan lewdly. Your hips tentatively begin bouncing on him, and your tits follow to Aemond's delight.

He's mesmerized by them and how they continue to leak. Aemond mouths one more aggressively, teasing your nipple with his tongue, nipping at the surrounding flesh to leave his mark. His hand massages the other, allowing droplets to fall down your abdomen and onto your cunt.

"My perfect wife, such a good mother," Aemond mutters, praising you, "Pretty tits always full and her cunny always wet."

You hold onto Aemond's strong shoulders, your nails leaving marks across his back. Your hips grind on him deliciously as your clit rubs against his pelvis.

"Aemond, please," you beg, quickening your pace. You're on the verge of yet another delicious peak. "I want another." You'll have as many as he wants as long as he treats you with this much attention.

Aemond kisses up your neck and growls in your ear, "I shall give you as many as you'd like."

Swiftly, he turns you so your back is to the bed. He hikes your thighs up around his waist and snaps his hips fiercely. You first the bedsheets around you as Aemond holds bruisingly against your hips and thighs.

He's close to his own peak as well. Aemond manages to hold back because of all the attention he's giving your tits, but his cock cannot take anymore, especially with how deliciously your walls wrap around him.

Aemond admires his perfect wife. Your hair fans out on the pillows, and your facial expression morphs into one of pure ecstasy as you come once more. Your breasts are less swollen, but your stiff peaks remain puffy and flushed from his attention. Your cunt chokes his cock, knowing exactly what it takes to please him.

His rhythmic thrusting begins to falter, so with a couple more jerks of his hips and a groan, he paints your insides white. "There we go, all for you."

"Thank you," you lilt, biting your lip at the sensation of being filled.

You giggle when he leans down to kiss all over your face, a laugh of his own reaching your ears.

The door creaking open wakes you up, bringing the sheets to your chest, you sit up. Aemond lets the bedsheet fall to his lap, ready to scold whoever dares interrupt his time with his wife.

A small blonde head peaks in, and a big grin unleashes on its lips when he sees his parents. Young Rhaegar toddles into the room, and his head is barely seen as he stands on the edge of the bed. His tiny hands try to grasp the edge, but he's still too small to get himself up.

Aemond reaches over to bring him up, pressing a kiss on his head, but Rhaegar happily crawls over Aemond and falls into your waiting arms.

Aemond's exposed sapphire earns no reaction. In fact, the eyepatch tends to catch his son's attention more. Aemond ensured that when his sons came into this world, he would greet them as he truly is.

You pepper kisses all over Rhaegar's face, and he giggles, squirming on your lap. While Baelor favored his father, Rhaegar was entirely yours. "What are you doing here, little dragon?" You ask him sweetly.

The nursemaid stepping through the open door answers your question, "Prince Aemond, Lady Hightower. My apologies, he scurried away before I could-"

"It is alright. You may leave us," Aemond says, waving his hand to dismiss her. The young girl bows her head, hiding her blushing cheeks, and scurries away without saying another word, aware of the compromising position of the Prince and his wife.

"My sweetest, why are you up so early?" You coo, threading your fingers through his messy hair that sticks up in all directions.

Rhaegar hides his face on your chest, mumbling, "Missed you."

You gasp dramatically, facing the young boy with a surprised expression. "You missed me? I missed you!" Your son laughs and presses a wet kiss to your cheek.

"What about me, little dragon?" Aemond asks, tickling his belly.

Rhaegar cutely shakes his head with a mischievous smile, squealing loudly when Aemond reaches for him and takes him into his own arms to tickle him.

"Mama!" Rhaegar's childlike laugh pierces the air as he asks for your help.

"You're going to get me in trouble," Aemond grumbles, playfully glaring at his son as he continues to tickle him.

"Mama!" Rhaegar repeats, pushing Aemond's hands away and waiting for you to scold Aemond or something.

You watch the interaction with a wide smile. It's nice to see Aemond this calm. "Give me back, my little dragon, or there are no more kisses for you," you threaten Aemond with a furrow of your eyebrows and a pout. Aemond abruptly stops and loosens his hold on the toddler.

Rhaegar laughs and throws himself in your arms, hugging your neck. His giggles never cease. Aemond winks at you and pulls you to lie on his chest.

"How about we go see Vhagar later?" Aemond asks Rhaegar who calmed down to a drowsy state. It's still very early for him to have been up. He must've had a bad dream.

"Sunfyre?" Rhaegar gasps, looking up at his father. Aemond rolls his eyes and nods. He guesses he can invite Aegon so his son can see the golden dragon.

"That's your favorite, isn't it?" You ask him amusedly, although you agree. Sunfyre is a beautiful dragon and much friendlier than Vhagar.

Rhaegar nods enthusiastically as he babbles about the pretty dragon. You lay with your back to Aemond's chest as he envelops you both with his arms.

At that moment, Aemond realizes he feels fulfilled with his little family by his side.

it was not part of the plan to let this oneshot be this long. there is something about the complexity of aemond's character that doesn't let me write something brief.

nonetheless this was a super fun oneshot to write. it took me the whole week because i was so busy but i had been thinking about it nonstop. i think i overdid it with the lactation part but oh well!

if you enjoyed this oneshot please don’t forget to like or comment (i accept aemond's sapphire, rhaenyra's crown, criston cole slander, emojis, words of encouragement, a lot of praise, virtual hugs and gushing about sunfyre and aegon) and if you want more of it feel free to let me know!

-nikki 🖤

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webslingingslasher · 1 year ago

Note

imagining frat!peter trying to last longer during sex so he starts to actually watch friends and forgets he’s literally inside y/n and she notices and just goes “…peter?”

the below contains smutty content.

usually there was music playing downstairs and while it was muffled it still filled the room, making it easier for you to confidently whimper and moan like peter loves.

tonight, you had snuck in around two in the morning, (peter’s pissed you didn’t tell him until you called him and told him to open the door cause it was two fucking am and you walked alone) because you were a new kind of desperate, foaming at the mouth with urgency horny. hornier than you’ve ever been in your entire life, obviously, because it made you get out of bed and walk across campus.

“for the love of christ do not tell me you walked here,” was the first thing he told you. your response was giving a sheepish smile and looking down to your feet, your pajama pants wet around the ankles from sprinklers on the campus green.

“my pants are wet,” you pull at the fabric and blink at your boy in the doorway. he sighs, and moves to the side letting you in it’s unusually quiet, while they did whind down during the week, usually one or two people would be up, tonight everyone was in bed.

the second the front door was shut you attacked peter and wrapped your arms around his torso, clinging around his neck. bringing your knee up to tap against his hip, his hand cups under your leg and picks you up, locking your ankles around his back.

“what are you doing here?” not upset, just curious. you’ve never rushed over in the middle of the night before.

in turn you kissed him, so brash it caught him off guard but he returned it. confusion spread as you kissed around his face, thinking of the most plausible thing he makes his grip tighter, his voice soft.

“did you have a bad dream?” your blown out pupils look at his mouth, shaking your head lightly you whisper out a ‘no.’

“then what is it?” his left hand scratches softly at the back of your thigh.

“i’m really horny,” you lick your lips and look at him like, ‘okay, now do something, please?’

peter nearly chokes on his spit, you’ve never flat out asked for it. instead using other signals like licking up his neck, or taking your shirt off and bouncing your breasts at him. tonight you were aching for it, and you were his girl. and he could never leave his girl high and dry.

“and what? couldn’t solve the issue on your own?” he feels you pout into the skin of his neck after you kiss it.

“you just do it so much better, and way less work on my end.”

peter exhales through his nose as a laugh, “i think it was more work to walk all the way here,” you give him a dopey smile, “isn’t it obvious how much i like you?” there were two ways to take the sentence, to protect both parties at stake peter takes it in the ‘wildly horny’ way.

two pats on your backside and you hop down, no other words spoken, just peter extending his arm towards the staircase and gestured for you to go up.

————

it was completely silent in his room, every kiss and whimper amplifies from the walls. embarrassed to wake his brothers you have a shy smile, “do you think you can make it like… not so quiet?”

peter’s already half naked, while he pulls away and reaches for his tv remote you remove your shirt and shimmy your underwear off.

hearing the familiar ‘dun dun’ of the app you look up, one row down and one click in was his saved shows and movies. number one was friends, immediately selecting it and pressing play episode from the last time he had it on for background noise.

you chewed on your cheek as he raised the volume, your legs pulled up so your knees were tugged into your chest.

“louder?” peter spoke over his shoulder.

“a little,” he clicks it three more times, you hum, “that’s good.” he tosses the remote to his desk and turns, you spread your legs and grin at him.

he’s right where you want him, he recives the message and slithers back up the bed, his hands wrapping around your knees and hooking them behind his shoulders. peter looks over your slick and blows cold air on it, you jolt and reach out to grab a handful of his hair.

“jesus christ, you weren’t lying.”

————

third episode of friends and you can’t remember the last time you had a fulfilling breath of air.

peter’s had you withering on the bed for an hour, taking his time using every part of himself to satisfy you.

tears blister your eyes while you dig your nails into his back, your hips rising from the bed to meet his, peter’s own breath hitched as he fucked into you.

peter pulled back slowly, his teeth sunk into his bottom lip as his brows furrowed. you know that look, it’s the look that says ‘no, i’m not fucking done yet.’ but you just feel so good, it’s the ‘your pussy is fucking lethal’ look.

catching sight of the TV, he thrust just as slowly as he pulled out, you hiss and pull at the back of his thighs to bring him in closer. when peter doesn’t move you try to do it for him, grinding your hips into his, but his attention is on the tv show, not the person his dick was in.

you whine and pull at his neck, when he gives you reaction you tug lightly on his dangling necklace.

“peter,” you buck your hips up and he gives a pity thrust, it’s enough to make you hum in delight, but he gives nothing else.

“peter, i need you, please?” the last word was in beg of his attention, can’t be he see how much you need him?

“shush, this is my favorite episode,” you grunt when he thrusts as deep as you can take him, while he hums watching monica and chandler kiss for the first time.

“if we switch to doggy will you please fuck me while you watch?”

a deep sigh, “if you insist.”

twenty minutes later you’re lured into sleep while posted on peter’s chest as he drags his hand up and down your naked back, melting in further when you hear him quote along with the show under his breath.

#peter parker blurb #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter smut #tasm!peter x reader #tasm! peter parker x reader #my writing #frat!peter

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jilixthinker · 1 year ago

Text

pillow puppy

=͟͟͞♡ seungmin × fem!reader

=͟͟͞♡ domestic and kinky christmas

word count: 3.1 K

content warning: smut, explicit sexual content, established relationship, sub!seungmin, dom!fem reader, puppy kink, pet play, puppy play, pet names, dumbification, nipple play, unprotected sex (piv), they are in love your honour

a/c: i confessed to my irl friends that i feel things for soft puppy seungmin with braces and i've been told i am insane, so i'm posting this here because i know someone will understand my madness my reasons. enjoy ♡

=͟͟͞♡ please, consider reblogging if you like my works!

"Noona, I am so tired".

Seungmin is splayed on the sofa, his head pressed on his favorite puppy pillow, the one that you gave him last Christmas with soft velvet ears on it. The same pillow he pretended to be upset about because "I am not your dog under any circumstance noona", but that quickly became his support item, bringing it with him any time he had to sleep away from home. His long legs, wrapped in his comfiest sweats, are crossed under you, a fluffy duvet covering them and offering you a soft support for your head.

"Minnie, we did literally nothing all afternoon" you sigh, twisting you head a bit to catch a glimpse of him. His fingers are slowly working on your scalp, braiding lazily your hair and combing it behind your ears. He is been doing that for a few minutes now and you are starting to feel a little bit sleepy.

"I know, but we've been working like crazy lately. Just two days off are not enough to restore our energy".

Seungmin is right. You both work in the complaint deparment of a big toy store and, being now Christmas just around the corner, you have been literally living inside your own offices. Even if you technically work in the same building, you have separated work places and this results in you seeing each other just at home, late at night.

This is your first day off after two long weeks, and you decided to spend it together in the way you most enjoy, staying home and watching your favorite tv show while napping on your big couch. You baked cookies after lunch, and the smell of raisins and cinnamon is still lingering in the air. You are currently on your sixth episode of your show, two mugs of hot chocolate sitting on the tv table in front of you, still too hot for you to drink them.

"I know baby. It's been really stressful. I've been missing you a lot".

Seungmin shifts a little on the couch to sit properly, gently making you lean with your back against his chest. His arms link around your tummy in a soft hug while he rests his head on top of yours, quiet puffs of air moving your hair.

"We have two days for ourselves now. I missed you like crazy too. I hate doing stuff by myself, you know. And also eating at my desk alone. I just want to share my food with you all the time".

You coo sweetly, making him scrunch his nose.

"Minnie you know I hate that seaweed stew you make from the bottom of my heart", you tease him, snuggling more on his chest and letting your head fall against his shoulder.

"Okay, is this the reward for my love? You know I cringe so bad when I say sweet stuff like this and you still make fun of me. You are mean, noona".

He laughs and dips the tip of his nose in your hair, breathing the perfume of your shampoo mixed with the cookies scent.

It's always been like this with the two of you. you've been together for years now, but the scenario never changed. Seungmin pretends to hate romance and sweet talk, but he is always the first one initiating it, exactly like he also pretends to hate when you make fun of him, but he ends up squirming and laughing and kissing you softly as a response to your teasing.

"Oh no, my poor precious baby, don't pout. You know I love my puppy's homecooked meals".

You giggle, amused by the direction your talk is taking and you scooch with your hips until you are lying completely on your boyfriend's chest, warmth spreading heavenly on your body.

Seungmin stays quiet and squeezes you in his arms a little bit more, brushing your cheek with his forehead, without answering to your joke.

"Min?" you ask, moving yourself slightly to turn your head and look at him.

When he raises his gaze to look at you, you find him blushing furiously, cheeks as red as mature apples and shy eyes, and the realization hits you. Oh, okay, this is what we are playing.

To be completely honest, this is not the first time you joke around calling Seungmin your puppy just to see him all squirmy and flustered, far from it. But it usually ends with him blabbering nothings in a frown and you peppering kisses on his face until he smiles wide, all teeth and braces. But it's been a couple of stressful weeks, as you said. And since you had no time to spend with each other except for the hours you were sleeping together at night, you didn't consider that your boyfriend, even as serious and uptight as he might seem, could be a little pent up.

Usually the dynamics between the two of you are solidly established, and Seungmin has never been embarassed to show you his submissive side, even at the beginning of your relationship. Overtime, both of you simply fell in the roles you were more comfortable with, and you really love his sweet tendency of being pliant and malleable under you. But, even if you experimented a lot in bed, talking openly about your own preferences and possible kinks that you might have, you have never addressed pet play per se, having never crossed your mind Seungmin would ever consider it.

And now, ta-dah, just a couple of dry weeks for the two of you and, out of the blue, what you did a billion times before without any problem, suddenly becomes concrete. Seungmin is currently still red and flushed and he is pressing your body against his, helped by the position you are on and the fact that you are squished firmly agains the sofa with your warm duvet covering you.

"Minnie, baby" you starts hesitantly, twisting you head a little more and readjusting yourself to face him completely, "are you okay? Did I bother you?" you ask him slowly.

If you have to do this you have to be completely, one hundred percent sure, that you are seeing things right and he is fully on board with this. But Seungmin is gripping at your hips like his life depends on it and his breathe is now beginning to be slightly herratic while he looks at you with the glassiest eyes.

"Noona..." he hiccups, frowning a bit and hiding his face on the crook of your neck. His hands are steady and firm on the fabric of your hoodie and he pulls it a little, hugging you completely.

"Baby boy", you whisper, disentagling your arms from his tight embrace to bring them on his shoulders, slowly starting to massage the upper part of his back. "Minnie" you kiss his temple and run the fingers on the feverish skin above the hem of his shirt. "Puppy", you try again, lowering your head and nibbling the lobe of his ear, sucking it into your mouth.

He moans loudly, falling completely on your body and starting to tremble against your chest. You hum pleasantly, tracing the shell of his ear with your tongue before pulling with your fingers a few locks of his hair, distancing his face from yours. Seungmin is completely wrecked already, tears forming at the corner of his eyes and lips parted, the metal of his braces tickling the soft skin of his mouth. He is truly a vision like this, all flushed and just yours, ready to take everything that you are gonna give him and to be pleasured the way he knows you will do.

You look at him fondly, slowly caressing his face with your thumbs and dragging them to his cupid bow, pinching it and then smearing the little bit of saliva collected there.

"My angel... I've been neglecting you for so long, isn't it true? What a bad owner I am, having such a nice puppy at home and leaving him alone for the longest time".

Seungmin keens at the words, closing his eyes and pushing his hips against yours, fully sitting on your lap now.

"But now I have you all for me, mh? Now I have all the time of the world to play with my sweet puppy. I am gonna give him all the things that he wants, I will make up for the time I lost".

You take your boyfriend's chin on the palm of your hand and you close the distance between the two of you, your lips brushing lightly on his. You can hear Seungmin panting, struggling to breathe properly and you could swear you can feel the beats of his heart loudly pumping blood inside his chest.

"And now? Are you gonna greet me for coming back home to play with you, mh?"

Seungmin, completely uncapable of talking, nods quickly, swallowing the pool of saliva on his mouth and he waits for your soothing voice to tell him what to do now.

"Good puppy, my good boy. I was sure. You will listen me very well, right? You will do everything I ask you".

Seungmin moans deeply. You can feel his cock throbbing under the fabric of his sweats, painfully constricted and pressed against your clothed cunt. Your tone is sickenly sweet and it makes his head light, his body feeling sticky and warm with arousal. He finds the power to nod one more time, thrusting his hips just a little, as if he was trying to contain himself.

"That's what I was thinking. I will do all the work for you, okay? You just have to obey. Don't even have to think anymore. Just empty that cute puppy head of yours and listen to me".

Seungmin doesn't even have to agree to this, his brain so floaty already that he feels almost like passing out from the embarassment and the hot feeling spreading all over his aching body. He mewls cutely when you take his face between your hands and he looks at you as if you were the only thing anchoring him to the real world.

"Open your mouth for me, puppy".

As soon as he hears you speaking, his body immediately reacts at your commands. He parts his swollen lips and his tongue automatically lolls out. You smile, humming your approval, and you bring your thumb inside his mouth, caressing his muscle until he is cutely gagging around your digit.

"Oh no, puppy, your tongue is so wet... you are drooling all over yourself. What can we do?"

Seungmin hiccups and trembles above you, losing all the control over his lower limbs. He feels like exploding and, without even wanting, he messily grinds his hips, humping once your leg. You are quick to tsk and shake your head, gripping his hips and keeping them still, pushing your covered core up against his hardened cock instead. He is so hard that you can distinctly feel his engorged head even under the layer of his pants, all puffy and swollen and wet, a small patch decorating the front.

"Oh-please... ah-p-please".

You keep maneuvering him like a doll, until you are satisfied with the position, with him straddling one of your leg, the tip of his spongy cock all pressed against your warm cunt. Then you look at him with fake disappointment.

"My sweet angel... I thought puppies didn't speak, or do they? I think I'll have to keep your pretty mouth occupied with something else then".

You make yourself enough space to take off your hoodie and shirt together, throwing them somewhere on the floor near the couch. Seungmin's eyes lay on your breasts, covered by a filmsy old bra that you usually wear just at home, making your nipples perk out of the fabric.

"You wanna suck on them, right Minnie? Puppy's gonna keep drooling if he doesn't put his mouth at use".

You unclip your bra with one hand, and one of your tits pops out, escaping from the constraint of the cotton. Seungmin whines patetically and he circles his hips on your thigh, precum leaking out from his pants and staining your sweats as well.

When you pull off completely the indument, your hand finds Seungmin's hair, pulling him towards your breasts and letting him face them, but still keeping him from touching them.

With a long sigh you let his hair go and Seungmin looks up to you, begging you with his watery eyes to let him do something.

"Go ahead, pup, lick", you concede eventually.

Seungmin wastes no time and he frantically attaches his mouth at one of your hardened nubs, cupping the breast with both of his hands and suffocating himself on it. He starts to quickly suck on your nipple as he was trying to drink from it, moaning and drooling while the room is filled with squelching and wet sounds from all the spit he is producing.

"Mh... my sweet boy, my good boy. Sucking on me like the pup he is. Go on, baby, make a mess, I want you to soak me with your spit. Making me so wet you cannot even tell the difference between my tits and my pussy".

Seungmin cries on your breast, the sound muffled by your skin, and he keep sucking your nipple messily, hands firm and hard on your tit, massaging it and stopping just to take fat licks on the skin below, drool all over your stomach and tummy, wetting the elastic of your pants.

You feel your pussy pulsating and throbbing on your panties, slick gushing rentlessly out of it and probably covering the fabric of the sofa as well. Seungmin's cock is rock hard over you, the fat tip already pocking out of his underwear band because of his movements.

You bring your hand to the hem of his pants and you lower them even more, Seungmin's cock finally springing free from the cotton. As soon as he feels the air hitting his aching muscle, Seungmin keens and bite softly at your nipple.

"Puppy, ah- you are making a mess for real... look at you, you don't even know how to move. Too dumb and sweet to do anything".

Your words make him squirm on your chest and he starts to wetly hump your abdomen, thick cock sliding on the skin of your tummy, completely drenched from all his saliva.

"Pup, you have to stop or you're gonna cum on my chest... I can feel you dripping already".

You take your hand to his cock and you fist him steadily, slick gushing out of his slit so much that it looks like he cummed already, covering your fingers with precum and making the most obscene sound.

Seungmin's legs shake violently and he lets out the more devastated sound you ever heard coming out of his mouth, tears finally spilling from his eyes and mouth hanging open.

"AH- ah mh pleas-ah please oh god oh GOD please please p-please ah mh".

At this point every second spent in torturing him is torturing you as well, so you start to jerk him off quickly, his tip bumping on your belly button at every stroke and his whines becoming sobs when you use your other hand to cup his balls and massage them.

"Pup, you have so much cum to give me, I feel it, you are so tight. I want you to pump me full until I am dripping. Can you do it? I am so wet, puppy, you can just slide in".

You stop touching him to get rid of the rest of your clothes and Seungmin almost screams at the lack of pressure on him.

"Don't cry baby, I want you too. I want you so much, look".

You schimmy your panties and you let them fall on the floor, opening your legs in front of him and bringing two of your fingers to your entrance, spreading your lips to make him see the quantity of slick gushing out of your hole, thighs trembling a bit for the position.

"See, pup? See how wet you made me? Wanna feel how wet I am inside too? Come here, puppy. Take your fat dumb cock and fuck me open. My puppy didn't fuck me for the longest time and now I am so tight, so wet for him. Two pumps and I will be full".

Seungmin moans loudly at your words and, sniffling from pleasure, he takes his cock on his hand and brushes the head against your folds, juices covering his shaft immediately while he pushes it inside. Your pussy ingulfs the tip and he falls on you, shaking and crying.

You moan at the pleasant stretch, bringing your hands to the small of his back and pushing him against you, letting his throbbing cock all inside of you in just one thrust.

"AH, I am - mh - I-I'm not - ah - Minnie's not - ah".

Seungmin sighs on your neck, hips beginning to pound without a rythm, and you know what he is trying to say.

"I'm not gonna last either pup, you made me so close, I am going to cum already".

You grip his hips and try to keep them steady to regulate his pushes, but he is so lost in pleasure that he continues to slam himelf into you messily, pounding hard and burying himself into your tight heath.

It takes just one more minute for him to start to lose it completely. Your pussy and thighs completely wet by now and his cock bumping on your cervix at every thrust.

When he pulls out almost completely and his soggy tip squelches your clit, you come with a loud moan, your cunt all drooly and pink and leaking all of your release, squeezing his cock just right. Seungmin keeps your legs wide open and he slams into you two more times before pulling out and cumming all over your pussy with a whiny sob, painting you white with his cum and soaking you even more.

He collapses on you without even breathing, your warm and sticky bodies glued together in a tight embrace. You spend a few minutes hugged like this, not worrying about how gross you are right now, but just catching breath and kissing lazily on your lips.

"I love you" you whisper softly, pushing his sweaty hair away from his forehead.

"I love you too noona. So much" he murmurs "but..."

"But what?" you look at him, frowning.

"... but that puppy pillow is now ruined forever for me" he sighs in shame.

©️ jilixthinker, 2023. please do not copy, translate, or republish my works anywhere.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #skz imagine #skz hard thoughts #skz seungmin #kim seungmin #seungmin smut #seungmin x y/n #seungmin x you #seungmin x reader #sub skz #sub seungmin #sub stray kids #sub kim seungmin #seungmin sub #kim seungmin sub

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cassiebones · 1 month ago

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Please Chill

Please, I am begging you all to chill out. I'm speaking specifically to my wlw Agatha fans right now. Even more specifically to the ones who are angry that the last episode revolved around Teen/Billy.

He is a main fucking character. His backstory is important to the plot. We only get nine episodes in this series and the plot needs to move forward. We cannot do that without revealing who he is and what his motivations are, from a storytelling standpoint.

I studied creative writing in college. I worked really fucking hard to get into my program, too. I took classes on novel writing, mainly, but also in screenwriting and playwriting. I took classes on TV writing in the mid 2010's at a time where the trend was shifting to streaming services putting out entire fucking seasons at a time.

But I remember having to wait a week for an episode of a show I loved. I remember what happened to my favorite wlw characters. I remember being absolutely devastated by Lexa's death in The 100. I know you're scared of it happening again, but there is so much evidence on the contrary to prove that it's not going to happen here.

Firstly, I don't think for a second that some of the actresses who signed up for this would have done so if they thought they were going to pull the same shit. I don't think Jac or Kathryn or fucking Aubrey, who legit said that she signed up because it's a queer show, would do that.

But i don't know. Because the show isn't over. We have three episodes left over the next two weeks. I, like you all, am praying that they're not about to pull some bullshit, especially considering the majority of their current fanbase is comprised of queer people.

But you can't just call them lesbophobic because they focused on a canonically gay character rather than your favorite lesbian ship for one(1) episode. They have confirmed that Rio and Agatha are estranged exes. They showed us so much flirting and yearning and longing. From a storytelling standpoint, they are building that tension for a great payoff. Its's gonna happen. Please, just be patient.

I was upset, too. I did not want them to shift focus to Billy. When I saw that that was going to be the majority of the episode, I was upset. I made a couple posts about it. But I still watched and it was honestly a pretty good, important episode. And fucking funny as all hell. We truly saw the aftermath of Wanda's actions. Wanda, who wasn't trying to be malicious or harmful, but she still caused so much harm.

As much as I would have loved to see Rio, I understand why she wasn't in this episode just yet, but she'll likely be in the next one. It was probably only like 2 minutes after he threw them into the mud that Agatha crawled out. Also we see Lilia and Jen in future promos, so they'll be fine.

I predict that the next three episodes are going to be longer and more plot heavy moving forward. I really hope we see more of Agatha's delusions from the POV of Rio, because Kathryn Hahn and Aubrey are fucking hilarious and I know it's going to be just as funny as last night's Teen POV.

I want to see people theorizing about the next three episodes and what's going to happen and how they're going to rectify anything, but I'm seeing so many negative posts about why your favorite lesbians didn't kiss or fuck yet on this Disney show. Please, just be fucking patient. It's coming.

That being said, if I am wrong, I will be the first to admit it and be super salty about it. I hope I'm not, but who knows? I'm not going to make a snap decision either way. You shouldn't either.

#agatha all along #agatha all along spoilers #The “real” interrogation had me in tears #agatha harkness #billy maximoff #billy kaplan #wlw #please take a step back #think before you post #I am choosing to trust in jac schaeffer #she has done so much more for marvel and us than most other shows #patience

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pedrospatch · 2 years ago

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we need you

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: Afraid of failing the two of the people he cares about more than anything, Joel decides you and Ellie are better off without him.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. SET IN JACKSON. takes place during Kin. arguing, angst. helpful to know reader was not present when Joel and Tommy talked in the garage. NO mentions of age, reader has no physical description.

word count: 1.6k

a/n: welllllp i don't know about you guys, but i am DEAD inside after tonight so to cope i am going to write a little drabble. already put it in the warning/tags section, but once again, just to be on the safe side of things: potential spoilers, proceed with caution if you do not want the newest episode spoiled!

“Just what in the motherfucking hell was that, Joel?” You nearly growled, bursting through the door of the bedroom that he’d chosen to occupy for the night. Having heard the way he’d spoken to Ellie—not to mention, all that he had said to her even after her heartbreaking confession to him, her unspoken cry for him not to abandon her, all you could see in your mind was the color red. Sure, you and Joel had been through your fair share of bullshit over the years, disagreements that caused friction between the two of you weren’t all that uncommon seeing as the two of you shared similar personality traits to each other, stubbornness being one of them. But you could not, for the life of you, remember an occasion where you’d been this angry with him, this fucking livid. As you watched him sink down onto the bed without a word, your hands curled into fists at your sides. You knew it would only make matters worse, losing your temper, but you weren’t all too sure that you could contain it this time around.

The blood in your veins was bubbling, boiling hot underneath your skin.

“Are you going to fucking answer me or what?” You prompted, a cool edge to your tone despite the heat radiating throughout your body. “You’re really trying to hand her off to Tommy?”

Joel sighed, shaking his head. “You weren’t supposed to find out like this.”

“Find what out, Joel? That you went off and made a decision, and a really fucking dumb one at that, without even talking to me about it first?” You crossed your arms over your chest, glaring at him. Despite how incredibly furious you were, the sadness was heavy inside of your chest. Tt was as if Joel had forgotten the fact that for the last few months, Ellie had been under your care too, and you had every right to be a part of any decision that he made regarding her and her well-being. It hurt you to your very core that he’d done this without talking to you first, and it hurt you even deeper to know that Ellie had known about this and she’d kept it all to herself all evening.

She’d come home from the movies and when you offered her dinner, she refused to eat and stomped upstairs, locking herself in the bedroom. You’d chalked it up to nothing more than a typical teenaged girl simply having a mood swing. After all, it hadn’t exactly been the best day for Ellie. She’d arrived in Jackson and the first thing she noticed was how everyone in the colony looked at her, especially the children. She was different. She didn’t fit in, she stuck out like a sore thumb and you knew that had to have been hard for her. Not wanting to push her, you’d figured that she would come out of the room eventually and talk you about it when she was good and ready. But now that you knew the real reason why she had come home so upset, you couldn’t help but to feel guilty.

For hours, Ellie had been upstairs in that room knowing that Joel planned on dumping her on Tommy and you didn’t have the slightest fucking clue about what was going on until you’d overheard Joel and Ellie’s shouting match just moments ago.

“Joel.” You said his name in a tone neither of you recognized.

Low, venomous, borderline dangerous.

You were like a ticking bomb, seconds away from going off.

Joel narrowed his eyes at you. “She’s better off with Tommy, alright? And we both fuckin’ know that,” he said. “It’s the best thing to do for her. I’m doin’ it because I know damn good and well that if she stays with me, all I’m gonna do is have her fall into the wrong fuckin’ hands or killed.”

“You’re wrong!” You countered, dropping your arms away from your chest and back down to your sides. “Joel, don’t you dare fucking do this. Ellie doesn’t want Tommy, she wants you. She all but fucking said it right to your face just a minute ago!” You cried, pointing a finger towards the door of the room as if pointing to Ellie herself. “She admitted to you that she wouldn’t feel safe with anyone else, Joel. So don’t you fucking do this to her.”

He gripped the edge of the bed, his knuckles going ghost white. “She’ll be better off with Tommy,” he repeated himself. He paused for a brief moment, just long enough to avert his tortured gaze from yours as he said, “And so would you.”

Your mouth parted slightly in shock. “Fucking excuse me?”

“I can’t keep her safe. Hell, I can barely keep you safe! How many fuckin’ times have I almost lost you? ‘Cause I don’t move fast enough? ‘Cause I’ve made the wrong decisions? ‘Cause I’ve asked you to do somethin’ for me and turns out that I unknowingly sent you into the fuckin’ lion’s den?” He inhaled a sharp breath, and you could hear his voice breaking with each and every word that fell from his lips. “I’ve almost cost you your life how many fuckin’ times now?”

“Joel—”

“Tess died ‘cause of me.” He saw you open your mouth to protest and he quickly added, “You can sit there and tell me over and over that it wasn’t my fault ‘til you’re blue in the face, but let’s just fuckin’ be honest and tell it how it is, alright? I couldn’t get to her quick enough and now she’s dead. I won’t let you meet the same fate.” Joel reached up, raking a hand tiredly through his hair, mentally bracing himself for your reaction to what he was about to say next. “I think you should go with Tommy and get Ellie to where she needs to be. After that, you should—you should think about stayin’ here with him in Jackson. I probably don’t belong here, but you do.”

You let out a small, shaky breath of air.

“Who the hell are you to make that kind of decision for me?” You asked, willing yourself to keep yourself from crumbling into tears. “I’m sorry Joel, but you can’t make that kind of a choice for me. And do you want to know what else?” You didn’t even wait for him to respond. “You can’t make it for Ellie, either.”

“She’s fuckin’ fourteen years old—”

You took a step forward as you challenged him. “Do you really think that girl isn’t smart enough to know deep down inside what’s best for her? Tell me, do you really think that Ellie pulled everything she said out of her ass? Do you honestly think that she could ever trust Tommy the way that she trusts you?” You felt a warm tear slide down your cheek and quickly wiped it away before he could see it. “Ellie is young, but she’s not a baby, Joel. I get that sometimes we need to guide her through shit, but let’s be real. She is old enough to make decisions for herself. Maybe not all of them, but the decision that you’re trying to make for her right here, right now—it isn’t yours to make.” Another tear made its way down the side of your face as you whispered, “And the one you’re trying to make for me isn’t either.”

Joel hung his head, seemingly defeated. “Why can’t you see it’s for the best? Why are you makin’ this so hard?”

Willing your trembling legs to move, you slowly walked over to him and sank to your knees in front of him; although you tried to meet his eyes, he refused. “You care about Ellie. I know it, I can see it and I can feel it. For as much shit as you give her all the time, I know that she’s become so important to you.”

“‘Course she is,” he mumbled. “You’re both important to me.”

You reached for his hands, pulling them forward onto his lap. You placed your own hands on top of his, lacing your fingers together. “Then don’t fucking do this to us, Joel. Please. I’m already down on my knees and I will fucking beg and plead if that’s what it’s going to take.” You crouched down a little further, enough so that you could look up into his dark brown eyes. “Ellie wants to be with you, Joel. And I do too.”

Joel’s gaze glistened with tears that he tried, but failed, to keep from falling in front of you. “I’ll fail you, just like I’ve fuckin’ failed everybody else.”

“Joel, please listen to me. Hear what I am saying, for the love of Christ. We have come so far,” You said, firmly squeezing his hands in yours as if somehow that would snap him out of it. “Whether you choose to believe or not, we’ve only come this far because of you. You have done so much for us. It’s why we trust you, why we feel safe with you. Me and Ellie, we belong with you, Joel—not with Tommy, not with anyone else. We need you, okay? We fucking need you. Do you understand me, Joel?”

Joel exhaled the breath he’d been holding shakily, leaning down to be closer to you. Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead against yours as he tried to even out his breathing.

Rubbing the back of his hands with your thumbs in soothing circles, you lifted your head and lightly pressed your lips against his forehead.

“We’re going to finish what we started,” You murmured quietly against his skin, feeling a slight shudder rack his body as a single whimper escaped him. You squeezed his hands again. “Together, Joel.”

#joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x f!reader #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller pedro pascal

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spidernuggets · 10 months ago

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Can I request #15 from the lyric list with Jason Todd please? I think it's perfect for angst or hurt/comfort, whatever you want to write really

Jason Todd x Reader

Warning: Slightly suggestive if you squint

"You with the dark curls, you with the water colour eyes"

"Jesus Christ, how do you expect me not to get upset over something like this, Jason! You're never home anymore! We don't go on dates anymore! Your.. Your friends and family don't even know we're dating!" You yell at him, tears already cascading down your face.

Jason sighs in frustration. It was late in the afternoon when Jason woke up since he was out late on patrol last night. He knew what he was getting into when he started dating you. Dark secrets, little communication. It was selfish of him, but he couldn't help it. The selfish itch in his heart dragged him towards you, not wanting to share you with anyone else.

And together with his other ego of Red Hood, he was out late at night, coming home to you in the early hours of 5am, sleeping in until around 3pm, in which he either has to go to Wayne Manor for training, or go out with Roy for a side mission.

He promised himself not to tell you about his secret life. The less you knew, the safer. Villains wouldn't give to use you as blackmail or kidnap you or hurt you. If any of them did, he wouldn't hesitate to go against Batman's morals and put a bullet through their head, no matter how long it took him to make amends with his adoptive father.

Jason sighed in frustration, pulling his hair back with a firm grip. "They don't need to know!" He says back, slightly raising his voice in attempts to remain as calm as possible. "It's none of their business!"

"How?! Am I not someone you care about?!"

"Of course you are! But they don't need to know that!"

"Why not?!"

"Because I don't want them to!" Jason yells.

You stayed quiet after that. He doesn't want them to know about you? Why?? Was he really ashamed to be dating you? Why the fuck would he date you in the first place then?

Jason's eyes widen. He didn't mean to say it. Not like that, to say the least. He didn't want his friends or family to overwhelm you. He didn't want them to be a variable in what could happen if you'd find out about his other life. And even if you didn't, he especially didn't want the press to be involved when they found out another one of Bruce Wayne's sons has found a lover.

"Doll, I-"

You put your hand out as Jason stepped closer. You spit out a harsh, sarcastic laugh as you dried your tear-stained cheeks. "You know, I thought you wanted to keep this relationship on the down low because I know how much you hate how nosy your family is. But, you know, you could've just said that dating me was that embarrassing. I would've been out of your hair ages ago if you were that ashamed to be seen with me," you snip. You start to walk to your shared bedroom, grabbing your duffel and shoving random clothes into it.

Jason felt paralysed. He couldn't move, and his heart was beating rapidly inside his head. It hurt so much. He just wanted to protect you. He just wanted to keep you safe.

When he was finally abke to manoeuvre his limbs, he rushed towards the bedroom. His head felt like it was about to explode when he saw you zipping up your duffel and throwing it over your shoulder.

"Y/n, please! I didn't-" He tried to call out to you. He tried to reason with you.

"I'll come back for the rest of my stuff next week," you mumble as you walk right past him, refusing to make eye contact with him.

Jason's heart shattered into a million pieces. His mind stopped functioning, and he went into another one of his melancholic episodes. He caved away in your used-to-be shared bedroom for the majority of that week. He clutched your pillow ever so close to him, hoping he was delusional enough to believe it was you. But it wasn't the same. He tried to think of many ways to make it up to you, to grow a pair and try to talk things out. But he's never seen you look so upset.

He wanted to fill his own head with lead. He promised himself never to let you get hurt, and he promised that if anyone did hurt you, he'd kill them. But he was the one who hurt you. And he wanted someone to put him out of his misery.

Bruce then called Jasin near the end of the week, telling him that he had missed too many important missions already and that he needed to get back in the field. Bruce was pissed. But Jason ignored him, as usual.

So, Bruce had no choice but to bring out the big guns. He ordered Alfred to demand Jason to get back to work. Alfred didn't demand, obviously. He just gently laid out that the team couldn't afford any more rest days from Jason, so they all needed Red Hood to get his head in the game. And Jason could never say no to Alfred.

So he put the big, red helmet back on and went out for crime-fighting. Granted, his skills were lacking more than usual, but Dick held Bruce back from making a scene. Dick was the only person to know of yours and Jason's past relationship, and he knew Jason would've been more appreciative and comfortable if he didn't mention it to the others. He eventually found out early in the week that you broke up with Jason and moved out of his apartment, so he understood why he was falling behind on the current mission.

There were a bunch of men who worked for Black Mask roaming the streets. Some were easily tied up already, and some were more skilled than others as there were bullets flying left and right.

Unfortunately, during the same time, you decided it would be a good time to head back to Jason's apartment to grab the rest of your belongings and the Black Man vs. Bats' encounter just so happened to take place on the route.

You were checking your phone and foolishly had your headphones on, too. It wasn't until you were at a witness distance away from the scene and heard a gunshot being fired.

From natural reaction, you screamed. You were at quite far distance, but ome of the men heard you. He called over two other guys with him. They couldn't afford to have a civilian witness.

Just when one was about to throw a knife at you, Red Hood comes swinging in, knocking him out. He disarmed the weapons of the other two, headbutting one, leaving him unconscious, and shot the other in the leg, as if he didn't have any problem fighting two seconds ago.

Your breathing was heavy and you couldn't move from where you were standing.

Red Hood came closer to you, grasping your shoulders, looking around for any wounds or bruises.

"Are you okay??" He asked in complete worry. You knew Red Hood cared about victims and innocent civilians, but he seemed real comfortable right now, but you decided to brush it off.

"Yeah... I think I'm- Watch out!" You tried to warn. The guy who was shot in the leg was able to get up and take a swing at Red Hood's head with a stray metal pole he found near him. Luckily, Red Hood was able to kick the pole out of the man's hand and punch him until he was out cold.

"Shit," Red Hood hisses. He didn't even realise his helmet cracked open until he turned around to check up on you again.

He was about to ask if you were okay again until he realised the shocked expression on your face. The right side of his mask was busted open, showing the pale colour of his green eyes and a few stray strands of dark locks sticking out.

You know those features. You know them so well.

Suddenly, you were back in your shared apartment with Jason, watching 'The Dead Poets Society' during a Saturday afternoon. He was being cradled in your arms, his head laying on your chest, and every few minutes, he would look up at you with those beautiful eyes, smiling and telling you how much he loves you, while your hand intertwined with the curls of his hair.

Suddenly, you were back in your shared kitchen, Jason huddled in the corner, arms wrapped around his knees as his head was buried within his arms. He was having another panic attack, and you slowly approached him, whispering multiple times that it was just you. It was just you and him, and it will always just be you and him. That's when he let you hold him. Your nose was nuzzled into the crown of his head, his hair tickling your neck. And he looked at you with watering eyes, apologising for putting up with him, but you just shushed him, assuring that you're never putting up with him, and that it was just another way of showing that you adore and love him with your whole heart.

Suddenly, you were back on your shared bed with the sheets tossed on the floor. Your hands were at a firm grip, pulling and tugging on Jason's hair as he made sure to keep reminding you to maintain eye contact with him the whole time while his face was settled comfortably between your thighs.

"Jason?"

"Fuck.. You.. You weren't supposed to-" Jason got a report on his comms that the rest of Black Masks' men have been taken out and GCPD will be arriving soon.

"C'mon, let's get you home," Jason mumbles, leading you towards his bike.

"We're going back to your place, Jason," you say behind him, making him stop and turn around to face you. "We're going back to your place, and you're going to tell me everything. You owe me," it wasn't a plead or a beg. It was a demand.

And Jason knew he couldn't be selfish anymore. And he also wanted you back. Back in his apartment, making it your own, too. He wanted you back in his arms. He wanted to be back in your arms. So he nods, taking you to his bike and driving back to his apartment.

He sits you down, asking you once more if you want to know everything in which you just gave him a deadpanned look.

You knew that Jason Todd went missing in some unknown accident. But that was 'Jason Todd', not Robin. So Jason tells you that there was more to his fake death, and you nod giving him the go ahead.

And with that, Jason tells you his story. From him stealing the Batmobile's tires to becoming Robin to getting killed by the Joker to come back to life by the Lazarus Pit, up until this very moment.

You didn't know how to react. You sat there on the couch staring into his eyes. Jason looks away, not wanting to see the look on your face once you've comprehended what he had finally admitted to.

"You've been through so much. And you didn't tell me. Is this why you get those panic attacks? I could've... I could've done more," you mutter. But Jason's eyes widen as he shakes his head, getting on his knees in front of you.

"No. No, Y/n. That isn't your responsibility," he says.

You look at him, annoyed. "My responsibility is to love you, Jason! And being there for you is part of loving you. You could've.. you could've at least told me small parts of your story. You could've told me you were Red Hood, and that would be end of story. I'd still love you.."

He shakes his head once more. "If you knew, you wouldn't be safe. Your safety probably decreased right now, now that you know who I am," he says, almost in a whine. "I just wanted to protect you. Of course, I'd never be embarrassed or ashamed to be seen with you. If I had it my way, if I just lived a normal life, I'd be showing you off to anyone looking our way," he confesses, and you couldn't help but smile.

You hold Jason's face in your hands, holding it so carefully, as if his face was the most delicate thing in the world. "Jay, I know you. I know you can protect me, and your family can protect us. You're so strong. I just know that no harm can come our way," you try to reassure him. He nods in response.

You place a lingering kiss on the crown of his head. "I'll be bringing my stuff back here tomorrow. No more secrets, please, hm?"

"Mhm," he nods. He's tired. And he just wants to be back with you. And you give that to him.

Suddenly, you're back in your shared bedroom on your bed. Your limbs are tangled with Jason's. Your noses are in close proximity. Your eyes are staring back at each other. And your fingers are caressing each strand of hair on his pretty head.

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lisaslosingstreak · 3 months ago

Text

Inspired by @homicydlgoth - final episode of S3 Wednesday.

“You NEVER really were my friend, were you Wednesday? Every time I tried to get close to you, you just ran away. You sabotaged my relationships, you hated all of them, you never supported me.”

“Enid I….”

“SHUT IT ADDAMS!!! (tears start) I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOU. You couldn’t believe in me or even try and meet me in the middle at any point. thought there was a nice girl under all the psychobitch persona but wow I was so wrong. I don’t EVER want to speak to you again. I’m GLAD this is our last day. Goodbye FOREVER you fucking psycho.” (starts to storm out with bags)

“ENID DONT LEAVE PLEASE! (Enid turns round) CAN’T YOU SEE I LOVE YOU? (Starts ugly crying).”

“What?” (Walks back to Wends and grabs her hands which are covering her face as she sobs)

“(sniffs) From the first moment I saw you I was in love with you. I didn’t know it back then but after Crackstone I realised. Every waking moment I think of you, you haunt all my dreams at night. I am so totally gone for you I fear for my sanity. I once said you left an indelible mark on me, but it was more like a hot iron branding my black heart with your name. I have been driven insane by you I don’t know myself any more. I have tried to show you how I feel so many times as I was always too scared to be direct and tell you but each time I messed up and upset you. “

“I used to have dreams of becoming a happy recluse, a famous author or detective but my only dream now is to kiss you, to hold you, to grow old with you, to walk into the afterlife with you. I am such a coward. Look at me - the scary Wednesday Addams, too timid to reveal my true feelings to my best friend, the love of my life. I don’t deserve to call myself an Addams. I will do anything for you, but PLEASE don’t walk out like this.”

Enid, smiling broadly as she wipes Wends tears away “You had me at I love you Willa”

Wednesday looks up into those endless blue eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“For such a clever student you can be as dumb as anything sometimes. Just kiss me already.”

Wednesday desperately pulls Enid to her, holding the back of her neck to pull her down for their first kiss, messy and urgent. Enid kicks the door closed as they break for air before she speaks. Wednesday is kiss drunk, her bangs in disarray and pink lipstick all around her mouth. Her eyes are open wide, she is struggling to catch her breath.

“Well I guess you’re mine now huh?” Enid asks in a husky voice, also trying to catch her breath.

“Cara mia, I already was, and always will be.”

#emma myers #wenclair #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #wednesday netflix #jenna ortega #wenclair obsession #Wenclair minific #wednesday and enid

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writtnbyhan · 1 year ago

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Can I request a fic where hyunjin had a really bad day and then reader says something that’s obviously meant to be a joke, or idk buys him the wrong order of food etc but he gets really upset and takes it to heart and starts crying and reader realizes something is definitely wrong because he’s never that sensitive and she gets him to open up to her about how stressed he’s been etc and she just helps him get through the day and feel better.

hey!! I loved this request because I love hurt/comfort, even though I don't know if I'm good at writing it...? I tried my best, though! I really hope you like it and that it is what you wanted. I don't know if Hyune actually feels like this sometimes but the mere thought just made me want to fly to Korea and tell this man how much I love him. So, there's that!!! hope you like it.

word count: 1560

Fuck. fuck. fuck.

You know you fucked up, somehow. Looking at your boyfriend's sad face in front of you, you look back upon your interactions today, trying to pinpoint exactly what you did wrong.

Hyunjin had texted you around midday, a simple “coming over tonight after schedules”, to which you responded with a heart emoji and continued working. Luckily, you worked from home so you were able to clean around the house so you could wait for him at your apartment. He was usually done with schedules by 7 p.m., or maybe 8 at the latest. You were free from work by 6:30, so you took a shower and sat on the couch to watch an episode of Friends, sure that by the time it was done your boyfriend would be arriving.

Distracted by the episode, you only remembered he was apparently late when you were halfway through the third episode. Looking at your phone, you saw it was around 10 already.

“baby? you still coming over, right?” you sent, worried frown on your face. You figured he had gone to his place to get cleaned up, maybe dance practice ran late and he had to wait until 3racha showered, or something. He probably had a reasonable explanation, you figured, even when he didn’t text you back, you knew he wouldn’t stand you up.

Sure enough, about 30 minutes later your boyfriend arrived, opening the door for himself and getting inside, running away from the chilly night air that probably made him feel cold due to his wet hair. You frowned, looking at him.

“I’m so, so sorry!” he quickly apologized, taking off his shoes in a rush so as to get closer to you as fast as possible. “Everything got delayed and then Jisung took forever in the shower, I’m so sorry!” he repeated.

“And here I was thinking you stood me up and I’d be able to sleep without someone stealing all the sheets tonight.” you joked, sighing as soon as you finished saying those words as if you meant them, even though it was an obvious joke, and you figured he could tell by the blush that crept to your cheeks as soon as he stepped through the door. Even after dating for a few months, you were always blushing around him.

He froze, but you didn’t notice that because you were watching the screen in front of you to click pause on the episode. After doing so, you closed the laptop and stretched your back, only then looking at him again. You noticed he was staring at the floor and had stopped moving towards you halfway through the living room, so he was standing close to the door, just looking at the floor as if it had something interesting to tell him.

“Hyune?” you asked, worried, trying to get his attention. He hummed without looking up, letting you know you were heard. “What’s going through your head?”

“You really think I would stand you up?” he asked, and his voice broke a little near the end. Your eyes grew big, surprised he was taking that comment so seriously. Before you got a chance to say anything, he continued. “Am I… do I ever make you believe you're not loved enough?”

He looked up as he let out the last question, and you were now able to see the tears that were running silently down his face, his worried eyes fixed on you as you gasped in surprise, quickly getting up to get close to him.

“Hyunjin! No!” You were almost reprimanding him. Seeing him this sad made you feel guilty, and your heart broke a little at the sight of the tears and the hurt he was feeling.

When you were close enough, you tiptoed and put your arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly.

“Baby, I never once believed you were actually standing me up, you make me feel so loved and so sure. I knew if you weren’t coming you’d let me know, so I figured something had happened and you were running late.” you explained in whispers, still hugging him.

His arms were around your waist now, and he hugged you so tight he almost left you without air. His face was hidden in your neck, and you could feel his wet cheeks brushing against your skin. You worry, because it’s obvious that the tears are still falling and because he’s never this insecure.

“Hyune?” you ask again to get his attention, but you don’t wait for a hum this time before continuing. “What’s wrong?”

Hyunjin is silent for a few seconds, probably thinking if you really want to hear what’s burdening him. Trying to be reassuring, you move one of your hands to his hair, interlocking your hands with locks of hair, massaging his scalp. He sighs, and you know you broke through him and his walls — they’re never strong enough to keep you out, and you’re so glad for that.

“I’m just stressed, y/n…” he says, voice so tired it makes you wanna cry.

When you realize he won’t continue talking, you try to get him to open up more. “Why is that, baby? What exactly has got you this stressed? You know you’re an amazing artist so, what’s wrong?”

Hyunjin thinks. He’s picking up the reasons why he’s stressed, trying to organize his thoughts and put them into words.

“Everything is too much.” he settles for, in the end. “You know the comeback is this week, right?” You nod, and he must feel it against his head because he continues. “Well, we have everything ready and only practice the choreographies and film interviews and that’s the thing. I feel like I should be doing more, I feel like people think I should be doing more. Also! The whole ambassador thing… it makes me so happy, but I feel like I’m also not good enough for it, not worthy of such an honor… I should be doing more to actually earn it.” he says, almost rushing through his words as more things come to mind. You’re still hugging, so he can’t see how you close your eyes in a pained expression as you hear him speak. It hurts you that he thinks this way of himself.

“Hyunjin…” Your voice breaks, betraying you. “You are doing so good, I’ve seen you practice the choreographies and I see your work with Versace and… baby, believe me, you’re doing enough. You are enough. Even if you weren’t doing anything, you deserve this so much because you’re you! They want you because you have the charisma, and the look, not because of what you do to promote. The enterprise and the kids, they love you because you’re you, and you do an amazing work. If they wanted you to do more, they would ask for it. If they don’t tell you explicitly, that means you’re doing enough — and knowing you, you’re probably doing even more than you should. Do you think your fancams have the amount of views they have just because you’re pretty? I mean, you are, I won’t deny that, but you’re also mesmerizing on stage, even when you don’t try that hard. Now, I can tell that you’re trying because you look… more than thrice as good. It’s actually unbelievable. I know Stay is proud of you, and I am too. No one thinks you should do more than what you do or you should try harder, we think you’re enough, and we thank you for doing what you do already.”

Your voice is firm, even if it breaks sometimes, betraying that tears are running down your face too. It makes you ache that the person you love so much is doubting himself.

“Baby…” Hyunjin says, and his voice is barely audible. He’s sobbing now against your neck, and you don’t blame him because you can only imagine how long he’s kept this hidden and how badly he needed to hear what you just told him.

You shush him and go back to massaging his scalp.

“Let’s go to bed, okay? You need to rest, and you need cuddles and kisses. I’m going to kiss you until you forget every doubt you have about yourself, okay?” You whisper, trying to lighten the mood. He chuckles and nods, untangling himself from you but taking your hand, guiding you to your room. You notice he doesn’t want you to see him while he cries because he turns around quickly. You smile, shaking your head slowly. You’re so in love with that man, you doubt there’s anything he could do to scare you away.

You squeeze his hand three times, the universal signal for “I love you”. He squeezes back, and when you arrive in the bedroom you cuddle with him and make good on your promise to kiss him until he forgets.

The next day, you start by reminding him how proud you are of him, and promising him that the kids are also proud, and so is Stay. You take it one day at a time, checking in on him and letting him tell you every doubt he has, something just to get them off his chest and sometimes so you can free him of said doubts. One day at a time, slowly, until he realizes how much he’s worth.

#✿ . . cami writes #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz imagines #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x you #hyunjin x y/n #hwang hyunjin x reader #skz scenarios

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maybege · 7 months ago

Text

What If - Part 3

Summary: The more you get to know Paz Vizsla, the more you fall for him.

Pairing: alpha!Paz Vizsla x omega!fem!Reader

Wordcount: 5.8k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, explicit sexual content, size kink (Paz is big-big), semi-public sex, thigh riding, cockwarming, dirty talk, idiots in love

Whoop whoop! Another weekend, another part! This is, technically, part 2.2 with some more smut, some fluff, some idiots in love and a very special adorable guest star that could not miss if we want to talk about Paz in S3. Thank you so much to everyone who wrote a comment or reblogged the story so far, I really appreciate it and I hope that you enjoy this part too. The next (and last) part will be out either next week or the week after, just because I need to channel all the angst lol

Again: Just a little reminder, that this is not strictly adhering to canon and I am just roughly imagining what actually happened during these episodes.

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

You woke up alone the next morning, the sun already high in the sky. It was later than usual but you felt so blissed out, you could not really bring yourself to care. Your entire body felt deliciously exhausted and as you stretched your arms over your head, letting out a big yawn, you realized that you had slept better in this stranger’s (though could still call Paz Vizsla a stranger now?) bed than in the last few years in your own cot.

There was a fresh bowl of fruit on the desk and this time you did not hesitate to devour the tasty berries which you knew he had meant for you. The sheer fact alone that Paz Vizsla had organized breakfast for you made your heart race.

The sun was out in full force by the time you left the ship. You could see people milling about, carrying crates this and that way and for a moment you felt bad that you had slept the day away instead of helping.

But then you thought about how your job for these few days was to be a calmer. And if your alpha (yours) was calm and happy and made your heart skip a beat, then you had done your job by keeping the peace and prolonging Axe Wove’s life for yet another day.

Rounding the ship to get to the inventory, you passed by another ramp, this one almost completely abandoned except for a small figure that huddled at the entrance. When you came close enough, you realised it was a child. Still helmeted with the same blue as Paz’s clan, but certainly a child if the frail shoulders and little hands were anything to go by.

For a moment, you hesitated. You didn’t know what it was like in their clan but in yours, it was rare to see a foundling on their own and even rarer to leave them on their own if they were upset. So you approached him.

“Hi,” you greeted the child sitting, “You okay?”

You could hear sniffles under his helmet and your heart broke. Clearly, they were not okay.

“Yeah,” the boy mumbled, turning away from you, “Go away.”

Forgotten were the happy activities of last night and the way Paz Vizsla could make you smile even in his absence. “Were – do you maybe want to talk to one of the elders of your tribe?”

He shook his head fervently.

“Sometimes it helps me to speak about it with a friend,” you suggested lightly, “Do you have a friend you want to talk to? I could get them if you like?”

“I don’t need your help,” he spat suddenly and you recognized the hurt in his voice, your mouth grimacing at the pain he must feel. And you were not about to abandon a hurt child, no matter how angry they might be.

True to your feelings, it did not take long before he spoke up. His voice was much softer than before.

“They said I could not be a good Mandalorian because –“ he shook his head again, folding his arms over his knees.

“Because?” you asked carefully, debating whether any of the clans might be offended if you consoled this child. But in the end, you decided, you all just valued the foundlings’ happiness.

“Because I have never been to Mandalore.”

You hummed in acknowledgement.

“Most of the people here have never been to Mandalore,” you explained gently, “I haven’t been either and you don’t see me being treated like I’m no Mandalorian, right?”

He tilted his head, musing over your words. You could see how he was debating your helmetless existence and not for the first time did you wonder what it was like to grow up in one of the more stricter tribes. Whether their foundlings grew up knowing that there were other ways – many ways, actually – to the same goal.

“My dad has been to Mandalore,” he said suddenly with the pride only a child could have.

“Really?” you asked, “And he never told you that you need to have been on Mandalore to be a true Mandalorian?”

He shook his head eagerly. “No, he said I am a true Mandalorian no matter where I was or not. The important thing is to honour the way of the warriors,” he quoted his father with a deeper voice and you smiled at his antics.

“Your father sounds like a very wise man,” you nodded, “And don’t you think he would know a bit more about being Mandalorian than your fellow foundlings?”

That seemed to give him pause. “Yes, my buir is very smart,” he said thoughtfully, “And I don’t think that Loren and Say’na have been to Mandalore either, actually.”

“See?” you nudged him playfully, “They don’t know what they’re talking about either. We are all just on our journey to become Mandalorian.”

The boy nodded, clearly in a cheerier mood than before. Then he turned to you fully. “I am Ragnar,” he inclined his head, “This is the way.”

Recognizing it as his greeting, you repeated your name and the phrase,

“What do you think Mandalore will look like?” he asked eagerly, “Have you dreamt about it? I have. I think it is going to be full of the highest mountains and no caves in sight, I don’t like caves. And waterfalls too! Buir said he saw a waterfall as a child and he promised one day he would show me.”

Grinning at his excited chatter, you listened carefully to the pictures he painted with his words. Of snow-capped mountains and rain forests so full of rain, there would never be any deserts in sight. (Turns out Ragnar did not like deserts nor the creatures that lived in them.)

“What do you think Mandalore will look like?” he asked again after a while and despite the blacked-out visor on his face, you could picture his eyes twinkling in delight.

“I think it will be full of grassy hills and lakes,” you revealed, “When I was little, I always dreamed that I could wake up to the sound of waves and take a swim whenever I wanted. Has your buir told you what Mandalore is like?”

“Buir does not like to talk about it,” he shrugged, “But I am sure if you would ask him nicely, he would tell you! He always says I'm too small for that stuff but you are big! Though my buir is bigger, he is the best warrior in our tribe and one day, I am just going to be like –“

“Who do we have here?”

“Buir!” the boy called excitedly and you watched with utter surprise and fascination as he jumped up straight into the arms of the warrior who had kept you company the last few nights.

“You are – He is – What –“

“Getting all speechless again, ‘mega?” the large man joked, “Seems I have that kind of effect on you, huh?”

You were so flustered you did not know what to say. Instead, you just snapped your mouth shut as your brain worked overtime. Paz had a son. Ragnar was Paz’s son. Paz was Ragnar’s father.

Now that you saw them together, their helmets the same colour as the night sky, you wondered how you had not realized it earlier. But Paz had never mentioned a child. And as you watched Paz set Ragnar down again, a heavy hand on his shoulder, you wondered whether Ragnar might have a mother somewhere that still played a role in Paz’s life.

The thought made you feel strangely queasy.

“Buir, she has never seen Mandalore before either,” Ragnar announced, looking up at his father, “Maybe I can be a good Mandalorian after all.”

“How many times have I told you your value as a warrior quality is not dependent on whether you have been to Mandalore,” he chided his son gently in a way that parents often did when their children finally had a revelation after years of them telling them the exact same thing.

“Sometimes it helps to hear it from someone else,” you said quietly. Paz’s gaze snapped to you and you swallowed.

“I suppose that is right,” he said and as Ragnar decided to jog back to his now-again friends to play, Paz came to stand in front of you in all his glory, covering the sun from your face.

“Ragnar is very sweet,” you started shyly, “I didn’t know he – or that you – He … he is very proud to be Mandalorian.”

“That he is,” your alpha replied, “Some clans don’t see him as my son ever since I found him all alone but to me and mine he is my son in all the ways that matter.”

“Our clan has the concept of foundlings, too, you know?” you smiled, your heart bursting in your chest at how protective he was over his son, “He is very proud of his father.”

“And I am very proud of my son,” he replied, “He, uh, he only recently had his helmet ceremony. And it got interrupted in a – he – let’s just say there is nothing I would not do for him. A world without him is no world for me.”

“And that is all that matters,” you reassured him, your heart skipping a beat while your head tortured you with images of what he would be like as a father of your children.

“Did you sleep well?”

You shook your head slightly, shaking off the question of whether he would mind being the father of your future children, “I did, though I am a bit sore.”

His hands immediately appeared at your side, gently helping you up as if soreness rendered you incapable of carrying your weight on your legs. You snorted, feverishly trying not to think about how the heat of his body seeped through your clothes, “Alpha, it is not that bad.”

“I like it when you call me alpha,” he rumbled, not seeming the least bit worried about his concern for you, pulling you closer so he could wrap his arms around you properly, “You did it last night … maybe you can do it tonight too.”

Your core felt molten at the thought of being in his arms for the rest of the day and you were sure he could see how your chest was heaving in excitement. Though as much as you wanted to, there was a tiny voice in the back of your head that made you hesitant.

“I am not sure if I can leave again,” you spoke out loud, “It … Would you truly be okay with me joining your clan quarters for the night again?”

“I don’t think it will come to that conversation at all,” Paz said, his hand sweeping over your back, “The council has decided,” he announced quietly, “We will make our way to Mandalore by nightfall. And if you are comfortable with the thought, I'd like to share my cot with you.”

The ship offered no privacy.

While Paz did have his private room – the one you had spent the previous night in – getting all clans onto one or two ships, meant having to share and rethink the limited space available. As a sign of respect to the clan leader, Paz Vizsla offered Sluice his room and she accepted.

This meant that Paz, along with his fellow warriors, was assigned one of the bunk beds. And one of them meant one of 64 in a large narrow room with too high ceilings and four bunks stacked on top of each other.

The worry in his voice was clear, even through the helmet, when you helped him carry his personal belongings (including a very soft blanket you distinctly remembered cuddling into), assuring you that you could change your mind. But the thought of leaving Paz had not occurred to you once and when you pointed out that several calmers had joined their alphas in the large room and none of them seemed to mind, his shoulders had visibly relaxed.

“We will find privacy in other corners of the ship,” he had promised you, his voice low and deep and sending shivers down your spine.

Only you had not expected him to find privacy so soon.

You were walking down one of the abandoned hallways of the ship, trying to get a feel for the layout so you would not get lost on your way to the cantina again. The negotiations had been postponed once more and with Paz in his polished armour, bent over a strategy table, you decided to flee the cockpit so Chants could not see just how needy you were for your alpha.

Your alpha.

You smiled, the warm feeling in your chest expanding until your entire body felt warm and cosy, thrumming at the thought of him. Could it be that Paz Vizsla really was your alpha? You had never expected to find what some of the elders had called true mates: a person – an alpha – that was just perfect for you and for whom you were perfect. And while you were not sure if you were truly someone that he would want forever, you were getting surer and surer that he was that someone for you.

You were just about to turn a corner when a hand closed around your upper arm and drew you back. Instincts kicked on and you squeaked, flinging your leg back to try and kick back into your attacker but they turned you around so quickly, you had no chance. Within moments, your back was pressed into the cool metal wall behind you, with no option of escape. And a blue helmet entered your vision. “Paz,” you gasped just before his hand came down on your throat. He was not wearing his gloves, which meant he must have planned it all beforehand. You wondered when. And how. And if he spent more time thinking about you than you thought (an idea that filled you with an immense sense of hope) but all thought evaporated when his thumb brushed over your scent gland.

Fuck, you were needy for him.

“Is that okay?” he checked in, his voice rough. His helmet came down against your forehead and you could sense him looking at you so intensely you felt like you could never hide from him. “Wanted to surprise you.”

You nodded, pressing your thighs together when his fingers twitched on your throat. He was so in control of you, of the situation, it felt like you could flood your underwear just upon his command.

“You're not wearing gloves,” you whispered.

He hummed, his thumb scenting you again, “No, I wanted to feel you.”

“O-okay,” you gasped, writhing against him. His thick thigh slipped between your legs and your toes were barely touching the floor when he angled his leg just so. He made you dangle, the only things holding you being his hand on your throat and his thigh on your pussy.

And you did not want to have it any other way.

You did not have to see him to know he had a very amused grin on his face. “You like my armour,” he stated, his legs shifting and you squirmed, “Let’s see how much.”

“Wh-What?”

“Ride my thigh, omega,” he instructed, his fingers flexing around your throat, “When I step foot onto our home I want to have my armour marked by your come.”

“Don’t – don’t you want to fill me up again?” you asked, trying to tease him even though you felt like you were in no position to tease at all. More like begging. Was it too early to beg? “Or – or have me cockwarm you?” you added as an afterthought.

“Who says I cannot do all of these?” he chuckled, bumping you on his leg so high it put pressure on the part you needed most, “After all we still have at least a dozen hours before us.”

Your hands flew to his shoulders, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep you somewhat steady. Almost immediately, you slipped your fingers to his cowl almost immediately and Paz did not stop you when your fingertips managed to find his warm skin, brushing over it until you found his scent gland.

“I don’t see you grinding yet,” he said instead, angling his knee even higher and you squeaked, “Don’t you want to be a good girl for me?”

Of course, you did. And he knew it.

With your dress hiked up over his leg, you could feel the coldness of his beskar through your underwear. And what might have been a turn-off under normal circumstances, with Paz towering over you, shifting his leg again as a reminder of his presence, you found that it turned you beyond belief.

You started moving your hips slowly, though you felt like you were failing miserably at exuding any kind of sex appeal. With your feet having no real contact with the ground and Paz fixing your head so you would not lose his gaze, you felt anything but graceful. But he did not change his stance, nor his grip on your body. While he kept one large hand on your throat, his thumb consistently brushing over your scent gland, the other wandered to the cleavage of your dress.

As soon as he started pulling the delicate neckline down, baring you to his eyes so slowly, your breath got heavier until it just got stuck in your throat. You wanted to please him, stars, how you wanted to please him. And you knew that he liked you, knew that he found you beautiful and yet, at this moment, it was only his mumbles “Stars, you’re so beautiful” that had you release your breath.

And worry about other things.

“What if someone sees?”

“Then they’ll only see my back,” he replied, his fingers playing with your tits and tracing over your pebbled nipples, “And if they tried to see anymore, they will have to deal with the consequences.”

Something in his tone, the possessive undertone, paired with his scent, caused a fresh wave of arousal in you. You could feel your panties sticking to your folds, the wetness gathering on the delicate fabric. There was something slightly humiliating about your position like this, out in the open, and yet you could feel no shame.

Not when Paz made you feel like the most beautiful omega ever to exist.

Soon, you grew more confident in your movements, grinding properly against the hard beskar plate. It was so unforgiving and Paz just kept on playing with your tits, gently plucking at your nipples like it did not make you tremble in his arms. “Could play with these all night,” he murmured, “One day I am gonna have your cock warm me all naked so I get to take my time. Just going to play with these until you’re blind from pleasure.”

You wanted to remind him that the last time he took his time, you had ended up being unable to speak and move. (Though the sleep afterwards had been fantastic.) But the words got stuck in your throat when his hand left your throat (and, regrettably, your scent gland) and pulled your panties aside.

Already, you could feel how drenched you were but could not find it in you to be embarrassed. Instead of ceasing your grinding at the thought of someone accidentally passing by, all you could do was hope that his finger might catch on your clit. They did not. Though knowing that he stared at where your folds left races of wetness on his made you even hotter. Your breaths grew heavier, the knot in your core tighter, and as you thought about cockwarming him until he filled you up again and again, you lost all inhibition.

Tightening your arms around his neck, you hoisted yourself up and closer to his chest. The proximity allowed you to pulse your hips and stars, did it feel good, the way your folds and your clit bumped over the texture of his thigh plate. You wondered how the design came to be – and although you were very sure that this particular situation hadn’t been considered when forging it, you still sent a silent thank you to whoever had made this piece. A few thrusts later, the beskar had warmed with your touch and with your increasing arousal it also became a much easier glide.

“Look at you,” Paz rumbled, clearly pleased, “Marking me for everyone to see. Grinding yourself on my armour like it is my cock.”

His words sparked a sudden idea. The kind of idea that made your heart race and your brain fuzzy but something in your chest told you that Paz would love it just as much as you.

With surprising determination, you surged forward and attached your mouth to the sliver of skin you had freed. His skin was warm and salty under your tongue as you sucked on his scent gland. His taste exploded on your tongue and you moaned, feeling your pussy clench around nothing.

Paz grunted, his body slamming you into the wall, punching the air out of your lungs.

“Fuck,” he growled, his hands gripping your hips and taking control of your movements. You could feel his bulge against your leg and knowing he was as affected by your pleasure made your heart flutter.

It did not take long for you to completely come apart in his arms. With his cock straining against his codpiece, your clit rubbing over his thigh plate your almost-but-not-quite exposure to anyone who might walk by, it had only been a matter of time.

You moaned against his neck, shaking in his arms as your walls clenched around nothing, wishing for his cock inside you.

“You're doing so good for me,” he growled, “Mark me, sweetheart. Do it.”

Your teeth just barely grazed his scent gland when you had the realization that, yes, this was what you wanted him to do. You wanted him to mark you, you wanted to mark him.

You wanted this man to be your alpha.

Another wave of pleasure rolled over you, making you whimper in the cold silence of the hallway. Your entire body just sagged into him, completely pliant for the man in front of you. And Paz was there to catch you, holding you up against him.

“Good omega,” he whispered, as he slowed your movements, gradually working you down from your high, “You are amazing.”

“Hmmm,” you hummed against his neck, brushing your nose over his scent gland, “You smell amazing.”

“Cause I smell like you,” he whispered, “C’mon, let’s get out of here before someone sees.”

“They won't though,” you slurred, your tongue still heavy in your mouth, “Cause you won't let them.”

He paused, his hands brushing from your shoulders to your hands. Slowly, his fingers intertwined with yours as if he were afraid you would run away if he were to touch you too soon. With him standing in front of you, his leg no longer between yours, gravity did its thing as your dress fell over your legs, hiding the sticky mess between your legs. Though your expression and scent probably gave it away to anyone who looked at you for more than a fleeting moment.

“Yes,” he said warmly, “I won't.”

Smiling through the haze, you rested your head against his chest and he let you. Being hugged by Paz made you feel secure in a way you had never experienced before. His arms tightened around you and he started to slowly sway from side to side, humming a melody you did not recognize.

“How are you so comfortable?” you asked in a mumble, trying to smooth your cheek against him through the cold beskar was nothing like the warmth of his skin.

He did not answer directly but you did notice a change in his scent, something that you hadn’t noticed before. You breathed in deeply, trying to decipher where this scent of woods and sweetness had come from but Paz interrupted your thoughts, “Will you let me accompany you to your bunk?”

“Will I?” you scoffed, your voice still sounding weak to your ears, “You have to, alpha, you’ve got a tendency to make my legs tremble.”

“Say stuff like this and I will make them tremble again.”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?”

“A promise, love,” he chuckled, “It’s a promise.”

You were not sure what you had expected when the entire Mandalorian population got cramped onto one ship, but it certainly had not been a board game championship.

“Hm, I could get used to that,” Paz murmured in your ear, his hand on your back, “Getting Ragnar to bed, having a nice drink to finish off the evening, sitting you on my cock and beating that annoying alpha in every single game this ship has to offer.”

You smiled against his neck, not opening your eyes. You had spent the last few hours just ... dozing. It was kind of scary to think about how quickly you had gotten used to this strange man but when you had settled for the evening, it was not even a question where you would spend the last few hours of the day.

As soon as the large alpha had sat down at one of the little play tables, so had you, straddling him with your chest against his and he had gotten an extra blanket from somewhere, muttering under his breath how he knew you got cold easily.

It made your cheeks heat up in a different way.

But now here you were, his cock nestled deep inside you and your face in the crook of his neck. Getting to touch even the tiniest sliver of skin felt like a privilege and the fact that he allowed you to do so in front of many of the other warriors made it feel even more intimate. Paz did not mind you scenting him. Quite the opposite, actually, he seemed to relish in it.

The previous night he had spent the time just like this, sitting you on his cock with a rumble in his chest. Only that time he had been able to reciprocate the scenting in kind. Whenever you had drifted awake (multiple times since some couples just could not keep quiet), his mouth had been on your neck, raining lavish kisses upon the sensitive skin until you squirmed in his lap. He had been awake every time you had drifted off and every time your eyes fluttered open beneath the blindfold. He had been still yes, quiet too, and smelled incredibly comfortable but his hands, his hips slowly working you open until you had muffled your gasps into his chest and come on his cock. And then he had traced his fingertips over your scent gland until you had fallen back asleep.

You wondered if he had not slept because he was nervous or perhaps because he just did not need to. You knew of a few warriors in your tribe who had made it a tradition not to sleep the night before a big battle or a trial, instead mulling over strategies and meditating until the time had come.

Briggs called them idiots.

But Paz was not an idiot.

Not with the way he carried himself so securely through the ship, how he participated in the training session, giving pointers to the younger warriors. And certainly not with the way he argued in the cockpit, discussing the best route to go to Mandalore and the strategy for how to reclaim it.

And definitely not with the way his hand was gently stroking your back, how his chest rumbled whenever you pressed a lazy kiss to his scent gland and how he made sure you were comfortable, checking in with you every time he shifted.

“You comfortable too, sweetheart?” he asked you, inclining his head so the side of his helmet was resting against your temple. The proximity allowed you not only to bury your face in his neck but also to hear his real voice – a fact that made your heart skip a beat, “Getting some rest?”

You hummed, too lazy to speak but chose to kiss his neck instead. The stretch made him shift inside you and you whimpered. He had come inside you once already and refused to knot you. (“The first time I knot you won't be in a room where everyone can see just how pretty you come for me,” had been his exact words and you had been too excited by the prospect of him knotting you to understand the implications of the rest of the words.) Which meant that there was a growing mess between your thighs, a mix of your juices and his seed and where other alphas might have found it uncomfortable, the reminder that he had filled you seemed to make Paz even harder than before.

“I’d be concerned if I had to ask my calmer if they are comfortable,” Axe Wove’s voice grated on your nerves and you wondered not for the first time if it was really necessary to be nice to him or if it would suffice to just keep Bo-Katan happy, “You wanna switch, sweetheart?”

You had not even registered that he was speaking to you until you felt Paz tense underneath you, his scent getting an acid note that made your nose twitch, “Say that again.”

“You heard me,” Axe Woves hissed, “Perhaps your omega would actually be satisfied if she were with me.”

You squeaked when you were simply lifted off Paz’s cock, his hands gripping your waist just a little bit too tight for comfort. He was angry, you could gather as much. But was that truly reason enough to kick you out of your favourite spot when you had just started to doze off again?

With trembling hands, you fought to close your robe as fast as possible. But when you finally looked up from fiddling with the belt, it was already too late.

The tell-tale buzzing of the vibro blade cut through the tense silence in the room and you knew shit was about to go down.

“Alpha,” you started to rush to his side but were kept on your spot by a pair of arms that were not your alpha’s.

You turned around angrily, ready to chide anyone who dared to keep you from trying to calm your alpha. Because that’s what he was. Your alpha.

“You know you cannot intervene.”

“Chants –“

“Everyone is watching,” your friend reminded you urgently. You knew he was right. That did not mean you had to like it though. Anyone going to stop a fight between two Mandalorian warriors had to be ready to fight themselves. And apart from your lack of clothing or your body still being disoriented from sitting on Paz’s cock not even five minutes ago, your lack of training did not lend itself to try and stop whatever was going on.

A roar was going through the crowd as they gathered to see what was going on. You caught glimpses of Sluice and the Armourer watching the fight unfold – Sluice looking just as displeased as Briggs, wherever he was, you were sure – and you grew restless. Paz making you fight made you nervous, the thought that there was even the slimmest chance that he could get hurt made you sick to your stomach.

However, after a few minutes of watching Paz fight, you found you did not mind seeing him throw and avoid punches. There was something very attractive about the way he strong-armed his way through the fight. Both men were capable warriors, that much was obvious, but his display of pure strength reminded you of your moment in the hallway and your raging heartbeat calmed down.

Paz could take care of this. He could take care of himself.

It was only when the silver-armoured man – Djarin, you thought – stomped into the circle, gripping Paz by the back of his neck and pulling him away the same way that Bo-Katan Kryze pulled away Axe Woves, finally putting distance between the two alphas.

You took that as your chance to intervene. Chants had no chance to stop you as you slipped out of his grasp and hurried towards Paz. His chest was heaving and his hands kept clenching by his side and you could smell his anger even from several steps away.

But it did not scare you. Because deep down you knew that no matter how big he was, no matter how angry, Paz Vizsla would never even think of hurting you.

“Alpha,” you whispered and the crowd went quiet, “I mean, uh, Paz.”

Taking a stand in front of him you hoped that he was focussing on you instead of a raging Axe Woves behind you. And your heart skipped a beat when his hands gently pulled you against him. He was aware of you, he noticed you, he did not care more about the fight than you.

“He said that I could not pleasure you,” he grunted and you moved to his side.

“I heard what he said,” you smiled, your hand gripping his while you rested your chin against his upper arm, “And it is obvious to me that he does not know what he is talking about.”

That seemed to relax him a little because you could see his shoulders drop and his fingers intertwined with yours. “No?” he asked, tugging you closer, “Are you sure, omega?”

“I am very sure,” you replied, feeling a little breathless, “No one ever made me feel like you do, alpha. Cherished and safe and wanted and … and –“ loved “– appreciated the way you do.”

“Can I let you go, Vizsla?” his friend asked, his tone neutral though you could swear you detected a hint of exasperation in it, “Or will you try to start another clan war?”

“Fuck off, Djarin,” Paz said, clearly not offended at the other man’s accusation, and shook his friend off but keeping his hold on your hand, “’m fine.”

“Yeah, sure,” the other man scoffed but left anyway, disappearing into the crowd that kept dwindling away now that nothing of interest was going on. But a few eyes remained on you and you suddenly became aware of how little you were wearing and how much you were being watched.

“Can we leave, alpha?” you asked, thumb brushing over his wrist and you loved how his head tilted to look at you. How he seemed to be so focused on you, you never need to worry he was in danger of ignoring you. “To … I don’t know to where, just … somewhere we’re alone.”

“I can take you to bed, omega,” he suggested, his hands falling to your hips, “I can … I could hold you close and scent you again. We got the curtain and the blindfold and our own little space. How does that sound?”

“That sounds like a dream,” you smiled in relief, already dragging him in the direction of the bunkroom, “Please take me to bed, alpha.”

#maybege writes #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x fem!reader #smut

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