#The wolf of wall street x reader

[gorgeys]

Hi! Could you a Naomi x female reader, where her older brother works for Jordan and she meets Naomi at the party and gets a lil jealous when Jordan tries to hit on the reader? Thanks!

FRIENDS? ★ naomi lapaglia

Naomi Lapaglia (Wolf of Wall Street) x fem!reader

You quickly catch Jordan's eye at a party, but Naomi wants you all to herself...

Warnings: mentions of sex, flirting, corruption kink??, mentions of cheating

Word Count: 3110

Note: ayee i'm obsessed with naomi so i loved writing this request! there's also another naomi request that will be coming out shortly and that will def be a long one! i believe in margot robbie supremacy

b/n = brother's name

You stared in awe as you approached the mansion.  It was by far the largest house you had ever seen.  You looked to your brother and he only smiled.  It seems he was adjusting to the shift in your lives much faster than you.

He had only begun working for Jordan a couple months ago when rent was tight and there was barely any food in the fridge.  You had just moved in with him to help cut costs for the both of you as you sunk deeper into student loans and edged barely closer to your degree.  If things couldn’t get any worse, your brother was laid off from his job out of nowhere. He began interviews for practically every job on Wall Street when your luck changed tremendously.  He landed a job at Stratton Oakmont.

He climbed the ranks quickly.  You and your brother had quite a unique charisma, one that allowed you to manipulate many social situations in your favor and it was no different at Stratton.  With his charm and hard-working attitude, your brother was one of the few to have a personal connection with the founders of the company and he could feel that promotion coming.  But it was just out of reach.  So he quickly enlisted you to give him a little push.

There was an obvious shift in your lifestyle as soon as your brother got the job.  He was able to provide for the both of you plus decorate the apartment and take you out to lavish dinners.  Life just seemed so much brighter for the both of you.  So you would do anything to keep your lives like this.  Even if it meant playing this part.

It was the first time you’d be attending one of Stratton’s famous parties.  Your brother let you hang off his arm, dolled up in a completely brand new designer outfit, just how Jordan liked it.  Your dress was as short as it could be without being socially unacceptable and your neckline plunged so deep that your tits were nearly popping out.  Your heels were custom made and reeled in your flashy dress to make it a classy look.  Your make-up was done to a tee, emphasizing the soft features of your face, and your hair was curled into perfect waves.  Even your brother, who had teased you all your childhood, agreed you were a sight for sore eyes.  There was no way you wouldn’t catch Jordan’s attention.

Everything seemed to fall into place as you entered.  Eyes were on you from the moment you stepped inside, men in suits turning their heads to gape while their wives and girlfriends knocked them on the back of the head for looking.  You smiled just as you had rehearsed in the mirror and strutted as elegantly as you could muster even if you had to relearn to walk in those tall heels.

Most of the men you passed patted your brother on the shoulder in greeting, eyeing you up in the process.  Your brother had to reiterate several times that you were his sister, hoping he’d be able to avoid any risque comments about the two of you for the night.

You hid your excitement at the expensive environment, causally downing a champagne flute from a server, while you soaked up the extravagance of the house and the people.

It wasn’t long before your brother elbowed you in the side.

“Look, right over there,” he said, nodding his head to the left.  “That’s Jordan.”

When you looked, he was already staring back at you.  He leaned against the giant glass windows of the living room, a mystery drink in his hand.  He was wearing a suit but several of the buttons of his button up were undone, exposing his chest.  His hair was messy and his eyes were bloodshot.  While he was a little sleazier than you expected, you shouldn’t have been surprised considering the insane stories your brother had told you about his addictions to sex and drugs.

He was surrounded by a group of men who you could only assume were the founding members of the company.  They had noticed you from a mile away and you could faintly hear them talking about you and how badly they wanted to fuck you.  One even said he’d fuck you even if you were his sister.  You pretended not to notice as they shoved Jordan playfully, egging him on to approach you.  For the Wolfie to handle you, as they put it.

He confidently half-smiled at you before shifting his shoulders, fixing his suit jacket.  He sloppily ran his hand through his hair before he began walking toward you.  He sauntered arrogantly, as if he already had you in the palm of his hand, and his eyes ran all over you though he tried his best to hide it.

“B/N!  Good to see you,” Jordan exclaimed, stretching his hand out to give your brother a firm handshake.

“Hi, Jordan, great party,” your brother said with a smile.

“Yeah,” he dismisses your brother, his eyes quickly turning onto you.  “Now don’t be rude and introduce me to this lovely lady you’ve got here,” he said, nodding toward you, a smile stretching across his lips.

“This is my sister, Y/N.”

“Aah,” he sighs, his face lighting up with excitement.  “Sister,” he repeats, grinning widely.

“I just wanted to bring her along and show her what a Stratton party’s all about.”

“Nice to meet you, Jordan” you say, in a honey-sweet voice, showing your pearly whites.  You can tell he’s already hypnotized as you look up at him through your fluttering eyelashes with doe eyes.  You extend your hand toward him with the graceful flick of your wrist and he holds it so delicately.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he says, lifting your hand to his lips and leaving a gentle kiss on the back of your hand.  Your smile widens accordingly as he refuses to let go of your soft skin.

“You know, you’ve got a really great place here.  I don’t think I’ve ever been in a house this big before,” you say, your eyes flicking up to the enormous glass chandelier above you that would certainly kill everyone in the room if it ever came crashing down.  You ignored that thought and looked back into his star-struck eyes with an excited gaze.

“Oh, really?�� He raised his eyebrows, enjoying himself too much.

“Yeah,” you say, nodding along.

You wouldn’t have called him unattractive but he wasn’t really your type.  Either way you’d let him have one freaky night with your body in return for a large check deposited in your brother’s bank account.  You hoped he was a good lay but your instincts were telling you otherwise.

He shooed your brother away to go talk to some of the other guys while he entertained you, talking himself up and offering you several compliments.  It was when he stepped closer to you that his wife noticed the two of you from across the room.  She was sipping on her champagne and gossiping in a huddle of powerful wives when you caught her eye, your hand holding her husband’s for way too long.

She was no fool, she saw the way he looked at you, like he wanted to devour you.  She remembered that dangerous glint in his eyes from when she had first met him at a party like this one.  And we all know how that went.

She was ready to cause a scene, to impulsively confront him in the large crowd and beat him senseless with a glass bottle for even looking at another woman.  But something distracted her.

She had the perfect view of you from the side as you moved your free hand across your lower back.  Then your hand moved lower, lower, lower, gliding across your ass, smoothing out the fabric of your tight dress.  Naomi’s eyes were fixed.  Finally your fingers pulled lightly on the hem of your dress, trying to bring it down as it had rode up a little too high, showing off most of your bare thighs.

That’s when she stopped herself and decided to give you a closer look.  And that’s also when she realized she was no better than her husband.

You weren’t like any of the other women Jordan flirted with.  No, you were flawless.  Her eyes examined your figure and noticed how every curve of your body was carved so smoothly, so perfectly that she couldn’t look away.  She could only imagine the way your skin would feel beneath her fingers; she assumed it was soft and pliable. She imagined how each arch of your body would fit perfectly into her hands like you were molded just for that reason.  She wanted to admire you for the rest of the night. And it felt like you were enticing her, like you were asking for her touch in that low-cut dress.  It wasn’t hiding much but still, Naomi wished she could see more.

She realized that she could barely blame her husband for his reaction.  Your beauty was baffling and undeniable.  What could she expect from Jordan, a man who couldn’t hide his desires nearly as well as she could hide hers.

For a moment your eyes strayed away from his and you glanced in Naomi’s direction.  Your hand carelessly brushed your hair back and Naomi was slightly mesmerized.  She sucked her lips into her mouth, imprinting the features of your face into her mind, forgetting which reality she was in.

Her stomach churned, her body telling her brain that her need for you was innate.  The way your lips curved into a pure smile and your eyes were full of light made her want to ruin you.   She wanted to whisk you off to some far away place to have you only for herself.  She wanted to melt away that pretty facade and see what lurked beneath your shiny surface.

It was impossible for her to restrain her own thoughts as just a single look at you brought up such deep, impure desires.  She was no better than a man but you made her like that.

Her chest burns as Jordan leans impossibly closer to you, whispering something in your ear.  You giggle delightfully, comfortably holding on to his shoulder.  He takes that as a sign to wrap his arm around your waist, practically engulfing you with his body while his lips stay uncomfortably close to your ear.

Naomi couldn’t believe the audacity of her husband to throw himself onto you in public.  No, you deserved much better than to be smothered in sweat and cologne in front of all these important people.  You deserved someone who would treat you right and then, behind closed doors, someone who would treat you so wrong.  She knew her husband couldn’t do any of that for you.  You didn’t deserve him.

By then she had placed her glass onto a table with a little too much force and allowed her feet to carry her across the room.  She straightens up the neckline of her dress and clicks her heels into the ground with a purpose.  You deserved her.

“Jordan!” a thick Brooklyn accent cuts through the air.

It surprises you slightly but it seems to shock Jordan into action as he abruptly pulls away from you.  You’re left awkwardly standing alone as he steps back from you.  Your hands clutch onto the sides of your thighs for comfort.

“Naomi!  Baby!” he exclaims, outstretching his arms to the blonde thundering toward you.  He puts on a large smile and leans back comfortably as if he wasn’t just all over you.

She doesn’t accept his embrace but swats his hands away from her.  She moves to stand at his side.

“You gonna introduce me to your little friend here?” she says, motioning toward you with one of her hands.  Her voice is laced with an attitude that scares you.  You’re not quite sure if it's venomous but it’s definitely strong.  She turns to face you and plants her hands firmly on her hips.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” he stutters, looking nervously between the two of you.  “This is Y/N.  And Y/N-”

“I’m Naomi, Jordan’s wife,” she cuts him off.

You had heard stories about Naomi, about how her beauty transcended time, but you sure as hell weren’t expecting the masterpiece that stood before you.  You were rendered speechless for a moment, staring stupidly at her, your lips slightly parted.

Long blonde hair trailed down her shoulders, barely covering her thick gold hoop earrings.  Her face looked like it was sculpted by the gods, with a jawline sharper than a knife and pink lips that pursed curiously at you.  Her tight baby blue dress with a perfect cleavage cutout matched her blue eyes lined with thick eyeliner.

You couldn’t fathom how Jordan could cheat on her.  She was probably the most perfect human you had seen in your entire life.  And here you were trying to seduce her husband.

Her eyes aggressively ran up and down your body, soaking up every last drop of you.  They held some dark emotion behind them.  Using the context of the situation you assumed it was jealousy but she knew it was lust.  It was the first time that night you felt so small and so flustered, your confident facade fading away.

You hoped it wasn’t showing on your face but from the way her lips quirked upward as she extended her hand, you could tell she was enjoying your agitated state.

“Hi, Naomi,” you said, speaking a little quieter than you had with Jordan before.  You accepted her hand, expecting a tense shake, but her grip was even gentler than her husband’s.  In fact, her hands were the softest you had ever held.

She copied Jordan’s movements, just more delicately.  She brought your hand to her lips, leaning slightly forward to give the back of your hand a chaste kiss.  Her eyes didn’t leave yours the entire time, making your stomach bubble in forbidden arousal.  The gesture felt so intimate, as if no one else was watching.

If you weren’t in awe before, you were hypnotized now.  Her beauty was ethereal and from the way she handled you, you began to question her intentions with you.  Your perception of her as the jealous wife was slowly fading into the background.

If Jordan wasn’t your type, his wife surely was.

He looked between the two of you, completely unsure of what to say.  It seemed he was in quite a pickle as it seemed his wife’s unpredictable behavior would soon get in the way of his endeavors with you.

“You know, you’re a cute one, doll,” she said, her tongue slightly poking through her teasing smile.  Her strong accent only made every word out of her mouth even sexier, especially that pet name.  Doll.  You’d love to be her doll.

You felt your face heat up and your eyes ever so slightly widen.  You attempted to ignore the arousal you felt beneath your dress as your nails dug anxiously into the fabric of your dress.  You momentarily wondered whether you should thank her for the compliment before deciding against it.  Each reaction out of you only pushed her to continue, to test your limits.

“I almost don’t blame my husband for looking at you the way he does,” she said, her eyes momentarily shifting to your cleavage before focusing on the small twitches of your face again.

You took a sharp breath and opened your mouth wider like you wanted to respond and apologize but Jordan beat you to it.

“Come on, baby.  You know I only have eyes for you,” he whines and pouts like a child, leaning closer to her and wrapping an arm around her waist.  She instantly pushes him off of her, disgusted by his touch, without sparing him a glance.

All you want to do is walk away and distance yourself from this married couple’s petty quarrel but your feet seem too heavy to move.  You can’t help but love the way Naomi looks at you.

“But I can assure you he’s no fun,” she says, ignoring her husband’s pleading looks.   “Very vanilla, you know?  And he comes too fast.”  She whispers that last part like he’s not even there although he can clearly hear her.

Both you and Jordan share the same state of shock.  You can’t help but feel like you’re learning too much information about the couple you met a few minutes ago.  But the way Naomi speaks to you it feels like you’ve known her much longer.

“Uh, I-I’m sorry-” you begin but are quickly interrupted.

“Myself on the other hand,” she says, trailing off for a few moments.  She presses her lips together as if she’s looking through you, her thoughts taking her to far away places.  The glint in her eye is mischievous and you want her to take you with her.  “We can have lots of fun together.”

Your insides are screaming the moment the words leave her lips, her devilish smile only making the feeling worse.  You can only dream about what she’s implying and your imagination runs wild. You’re already putty in her hands, you both can feel it.

“What’d you say, you wanna be friends?” she says, her tone seemingly innocent.  But one look in those blue eyes would say otherwise.

“Friends?” you ask breathlessly.  You let your head hang low and your bottom lip push out toward her, silently questioning the meaning of the word.

“Yeah,” she says, smiling brightly.  But there’s a coy element about it.  “You wanna be my friend?”  Her eyes check you out once more just for emphasis.

There’s your answer.

The initial goal of seducing Jordan is long forgotten.  Quick cash seems irrelevant compared to the duchess before you, especially now that she seems within reach.  If you didn’t accept her offer you were sure you’d regret it.

You nod cautiously.

“Yeah, I’ll be your friend.”

She instantly beams at you with a conniving grin while internally congratulating herself for a mission accomplished.  You feel your lips reciprocate in a stunned smile.

“Good.  Let’s get you another drink, doll” she says, reaching out and grabbing your hand.  She tugs you behind her as she heads toward the home bar.  She gives you a raunchy look over her shoulder while you let her control your every movement.  “Then I can show you around.”

Your smile grows while Jordan is left standing stupidly by himself.  He curses under his breath, wondering how he fumbled so badly.

i'm screaming

[bradpittwh0re]

faceclaim: margot robbie

pairings: brad pitt x actress!reader

warning:fluff

y/ndaily

liked by y/nupdates, y/nstan03, pittfan07 and 34,254 others

y/ndaily popcrave posted via twitter

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y/nfan73 omg I cant believe it came out 9 years ago

bradstan31 i wish i could do coke on y/n tits

y/nfan42 stoooop but same

y/nfan67 One of the best movies ever made!

y/nfan92 I love that they fell in love on set

bradpfan43 if you watch bts videos of filming , you can see how madly in love they are

y/nstan87 Brad and Y/N carried

y/nfan27 she made history i fear...

yourinstagram added to their story

celebexposed

liked by teapage, deuxmoi and 52,254 others

celebexposed Y/N L/N and Brad Pitt spotted having a private dinner

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y/nfan73 you guys are so weird , leave them alone

deuxmoi love this content

y/nfan92 of course you do

pittfan59 this is so embarrassing for them

bradstan04 “private dinner”

y/nstan72 like is it so hard not to stalk people

yourinstagram

liked by bradpitt , y/nstan01 and 3,423,134 others

yourinstagram thank you so much @vogue and @vanityfair for choosing me for your cover

view all 1,746,032 comments

y/nstan29 the swiftness that brad liked this

user37 the power she has

y/nfan26 really she on two of the biggest magazines at the same

y/nfan22 her hair is so beautiful especially in the vogue cover

pittfan92 her outfit is everything in vanityfair issue

yourbestfriend you really devoured that

yourinstagram 😘

y/nupdates

liked by y/ndaily, bradpfanpage  and 10,439 others

y/nupdates clips from the barbie trailer played before Babylon in limited cinemas

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babylon

liked by y/nfan10, harryfan12 and 2,830,510 others

babylon  Introducing Y/N L/N as Nellie LaRoy and Brad Pitt as Jack Conrad starring in BABYLON - from Academy winner Damien Chazelle.

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pittfan64 i cant wait from this movie

y/nfan64 I already bought tickets from the trailer

y/nstan08 barbie and thisss , they are so powerful

bradfan32  automatic hit from Damien Chazelle

bradpittupdates

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harryupdates Y/N and Brad at Babylon premiere with friends and family 

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y/nfan11 y/n fits during this era is so peak

y/nfan82 it is so cute that she went with her mom

bradpfan77 HE LOOKS emoji

y/nstan62 brad and george look so good in the last picture

bradpittfan31 i wish i could find pics of them together from the night

y/nstan93 same it so hard to find

---------

author note - k bye for now

[monster-disaster]

[wolf-shifter] Rome

wolf-shifter!Rome x human!Reader Good to know: somnophilia, non-con, breeding, rut Summary: Your best friend can't keep himself away from you anymore.

"Did I wake you up?" Your words are slurred when you break the silence of the quiet flat. The only sound is the traffic from the streets, filtering inside through the closed windows. A few cars pass by every now and again. Their engine rumbles through the air, echoing off the buildings.

Your back is against the wall next to the entrance door as your best friend kneels in front of you, trying to take off your shoes with a slight frown between his brows. His thick fingers can barely handle the delicate clasps.

"It's fine," he hums, pushing the shoes aside. "I told you to call me if you need me."

"Thank you," you reply, tilting your head back when he stands up and towers above you. Your makeup is a bit smudged around your eyes as you blink up at him sleepily. "You are a good friend, Rome. I love you."

The man just smirks at your words, tucking you against his side to lead you into his room. He knows the drill by now. You go out with your co-workers, drink more than you can handle, and call him to take you home. He helps you, of course, while listening to you repeat how much you love him until you fall asleep.

"I love you too, sweetheart," he replies, opening the door of his room and leading you inside until you sit on the edge of his bed. Your posture is relaxed and tired. You don't even move a muscle when you feel him starting to take off your clothes.

"Arms up," he says, and when you do, he pulls up your top until it's on a chair nearby. It smells like your perfume, smoke, and alcohol.

"Do you want a shower?" Rome asks even though he already knows your answer.

"'m tired," you hum, letting your eyes close while you are still in a sitting position.

"Of course," the man chuckles.

While he searches for a shirt you can sleep in, he can't help but let his eyes wander on your almost bare body. Your tits fill the bra into a nice cleavage, and your panties match.

"Hold up your arms for a second, sweetheart," he says quietly, feeling a bit annoyed when the thin fabric hides your body from his dark gaze.

"You can lay down now," he adds, helping you onto his bed and tucking you in. By the time he straightens up, you are already asleep.

Rome has known you since he moved into the city. You met at a coffee shop where you worked after college. He knew you were the one him after a glance and a sniff in the air heavy with the scent of coffee and you. It was love at first sight, except you put him into a friend zone, and Rome never figured out how to get out of it without ruining your friendship. So he stayed in that damn zone, hoping that one day you will confess his love for him or he will grow some balls to tell you the truth. Pathetic really.

After making sure the lock of his entrance door is closed and putting a big glass of water next to you on the nightstand, he climbs onto the bed, trying to focus on anything else but your closeness. You are bundled up in the blanket so much he can barely see the top of your head, and your light snores are muffled by the thick fabric.

His brothers would laugh at him for sure. Their little brother can't get the girl, so he has to wake up next to her with blue balls. How funny. They would never let this go. Idiots. All of them.

He glances at you one last time. He is, too.

Sleep takes him after a while, but his dreams are heavy and troubled. When he wakes up, it's almost morning. The sun is still hiding behind the horizon, but it's there. He turns on his back and groans. His gums ache and burns, his mouth open to lift the pressure off his teeth. Sweat glistens on his heated body. His fingers dig into the mattress under him, feeling his claws wanting to grow out. And his cock. He closes his eyes tightly to keep a pained moan in his chest. It's hard and heavy between his thighs. His erection pulses with each breath he takes, and his underwear is already ruined by the precum soaking the black fabric.

"Fuck," he grunts, sitting up on the edge of the bed. He has a hard time making his tense muscles move. The wooden ground feels cold under him. His skin feels too tight and too itchy.

Rome circles his broad shoulders backward a few times before standing up to get to the kitchen for some water. And maybe he should go out for a run. Yes. Some fresh air would definitely do some good.

The man is almost at the door of his room when you turn on your back on the bed, still sleeping. His eyes rake over your body under the covers. He almost forgot you were there. He was so busy with his wolf wanting to come out he didn't even notice you until now. But now, he can't tear his gaze away from you. You are so peaceful and pretty. Your hair is a mess, and your makeup is smeared around your closed eyes even more than last night.

"Fuck," Rome groans again. You shouldn't be here. Not when his rut is approaching and the wolf in him claws on the inside of his mind to get out.

He should force himself to walk away and call an Uber for you. He should wake you up and make you leave. Or at least, he should force himself out of the room. You shouldn't be here so beautiful and soft while his cock throbs with the need to fill you up.

Images of you pliant and warm in his arms flood his mind. How would you feel under his hands? Under his tongue? Around his...

Rome stares at your chest for long seconds, watching you breathe. You are deep asleep. You always black out when you drink too much.

He steps closer.

His large hands curl into fists.

Another step to the bed.

He shouldn't.

"Fuck."

The change of his body comes naturally and quickly. His skeleton transforms into something more primal, with firm muscles and dark fur all over his skin. He grows taller and stronger. The ache in his body lessens, but his cock between his legs still bobs angrily with each step he takes to the bed to get closer to your sleeping form. His claws grip the blanket, pulling it down from the bed slowly and carefully. He drops it to the ground, keeping his eyes on your bare legs. His t-shirt barely hides your panties, and he can see your nipples harden at the sudden change of temperature.

For a second, his attention wanders up to your face. Your eyes are still closed, and your breath is even. The man climbs up on the bed. The mattress dips under his weight. He hovers above your sleeping form, almost frozen. You can wake up at any minute, and there is no way he can explain the situation without you freaking out.

But it's too little and too late.

Taking a deep breath, his hand moves to his aching cock, his long fingers curling around the thick shaft. A groan escapes his open mouth, his long tongue lick over his upper teeth. His eyes wander down on your body, pausing at your soft tits and hard nipples before falling to your covered mound. His grip tightens on his erection, precum leaking from the dark pink tip. He throbs in his own hand, urging him to do something.

He saw you like this several times since you know each other. You are comfortable showing some skin even though it drives him crazy under the surface. The memories almost make him angry. So many times, he imagined you under him, moaning and crying for him while you were totally unaware of his desires and demons.

Releasing his cock, he reaches out for you. His touch is gentle and warm on your knees, gliding up on the soft flesh of your thigh. When you open your legs, he almost jumps back and out of the bed. Rome snaps his eyes up to your face again. You are still asleep.

It's so wrong on so many levels.

Now, that your legs are open, he can see the slit of your pussy through the thin fabric. Drool drips down from his mouth at the plump sight.

Maybe it's enough, he tries to convince himself. Just jerking off on the view of your cunt is enough until you wake up and go home. You won't know anything about it, and life can go on as usual. It's a lie, and the beast in him knows it.

His hand is on you again, caressing your thigh before sliding up to your panties. It's soft under his touch but does nothing but annoy him. His thumb moves between your legs, feeling the heat of your pussy on his own skin. His heart beats in his throat as he watches. Your clit is under his thumb, drawing small circles on the bud.

Rome doesn't have to wait long to feel your arousal in the air. It's thick and heavy, making him and his cock drool some more.

"Fuck!" He groans. His snout fidgets as he takes deep breaths from your scent. "You smell so good."

He moves closer, slowly, tentatively. He lifts his weight onto his arms at the sides of your body. His eyes are on your face again, watching you sleep while his nose almost bumps against your mound. A low groan rumbles in his chest. You are so close. So delicious. His tongue rolls out of his mouth, licking through your center over the fabric covering it. You are wet. He licks over your slit until your panties are soaked with your juices and his saliva. It sticks to your plump pussy.

"Let's take it down," he hums, hooking his long fingers on the side of your panties to pull it down and reveal your most intimate part. Your cunt glistens under the street lights that filter into his bedroom through the window.

The wolf-shifter's world spins around him once, twice, three times as he leans closer again. His snout rubs against your clit, taking deep breaths of your heavy smell. He lost control over his own body a long time ago.

"So pretty," he murmurs. Saliva drips down onto your wet center as he hovers above you. The sight fills him with satisfaction. You will smell like him. You will be marked by him. "You have such a pretty pussy, sweetheart."

Almost bursting with anticipation, he slides his tongue between your folds, lapping up your juices. When he flicks your clit, you moan into the dark room, making him freeze for long seconds. The sound escaping your mouth is hoarse and oh, so delicious. Your smell gets stronger in the air, but you don't move.

"Just a little bit more," he whispers, almost begging. He slurps on your pussy hurriedly, trying to suffocate himself in your cunt. His tongue finds your entrance, pushing inside your hot channel. He can feel you fluttering around his tongue, sucking him in for more. His whole body trembles as his muscles tense. Every nerve in his body is focused on you. Your smell and taste drive him deeper and deeper to the point he can't back away.

His cock hangs heavy between his thighs, leaking. His balls feel too tight, and his hips start to rock back and forth every now and again to find some friction. The knot at the base of his shaft grows with each second he spends between your thighs, munching on your cunt.

Biting off his own claw, he turns his attention back to your empty hole. His tongue slides into you easily. You are pulsing and fluttering until he adds his finger to stretch you out some more. For a second, you tense up, moaning again before continuing to sleep. He almost laughs. He could fuck you. You wouldn't wake up.

He almost cums when you clench around him. He scoops up your nectar with his tongue, gulping to burn the memory of your taste in his mind. Your breathing gets heavier, and a small, barely noticeable tremble runs through your body as you reach your climax. With his free hand, Rome has to squeeze his cock to stop him from shooting his seed all over you and the bed.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he groans, keeping his fingers in you, feeling your still squeezing walls. "Can you do that again? Could you cum on my cock, hm? Are you ready for it?"

It's madness.

He climbs above you, pushing your legs apart to have enough space for his slim waist between your thighs. His erection rubs against your folds, mixing his pre-cum and your juices together.

"God," he groans. "Fuck! So good, sweetheart. Your cunt is so warm. She wants me, love. She wants my cock inside. You know it, too."

Grabbing his erection, he adjusts the bulbous tip to your entrance before starting to push inside. He growls at the feeling of you enveloping him. You are warm and wet and perfect. His balls jerk and his knot pulses.

"That's it," he groans. "You are doing so good, sweetheart."

"Rome?" Your voice feels like cold water. His name on your lips is thick with sleep and confusion. "What? What are you doing?" Your question ends in a moan when he doesn't stop. He pushes his cock inside you entirely, stretching you out and filling you up.

"Shh, sweetheart," he grunts, panting. "It's okay."

"Rome?" Panic laces your voice. "Rome! Stop!"

"I can't," Rome replies, shaking his head, licking up on the side of your neck. Your palms seem small on his broad chest as you try to push him away while he still rocking back and forth inside you.

"Enough! Rome!"

"Shh," he tries to calm you again. His mind is dizzy with the feeling of you around him. Tight and warm, clenching with every movement you make. Your trashing under him almost breaks his cock off, but damn his whole life if he stops. "It's okay, love. Your pussy wants it."

"What? No! It's wrong!"

"No!" He growls. "It's not! I should have made you mine a long time ago!"

Despite your panic and anger, a moan escapes your lips when he thrusts inside you. Your pussy clenches around his shaft, soaking his erection. Rome reaches every sweet spot in you, driving you higher and higher.

"So good, sweetheart," he coos. His words fan over the side of your neck. "You feel it too, right? My cock stretches your tiny pussy. You squeeze on me so tight, I can barely move."

"Rome!" You moan his name, your fingers dig into the hard muscles of his shoulder. Your legs curl around his waist to keep him close. Pleasure flares through your body even though you know it's wrong.

"And you taste so good, love," he grunst into your neck. Your skin is wet from his drooling. "I ate your pussy while you slept," he admits. "I drank up your juices. You got wet so easily. Your pussy knew it was me."

They shouldn't, but his words fuel you more. Your hips move under him, meeting his thrust as your back arches from the bed.

"Rome! Please! Fuck!"

Seeing you so responsive wakes up something primal inside him. You want him, he thinks, shocked. You want his cock, his warm cum. His mark. He almost shouts with pain when he forces himself to kneel up and leave your warm channel.

"Turn around," he says but doesn't wait for your reaction. Grabbing your hips, he turns you on your stomach, tugging you into a kneeling position. Your ass rubs against his cock while he hovers above you and pushes your head down on the bed.

"Present yourself for me, sweetheart," he groans, rutting against your bottom. "Show me how much you want my cock like a good bitch."

"Rome," you cry his name, screaming when he enters into your pussy again. His hold is firm and hard on your hips as he keeps you in place against his pounding. He fucks your pussy with newfound vigor. Your juices flow down on your thighs, dripping onto the bed.

"Fuck!" Rome groans. "Your pussy is so good to me, sweetheart. She knows what she wants, and it's my cock. She wants me to fill her up and soak her with my seed."

His words clear your mind for a second. Your fingers grip onto the blanket under you. "Wait! Rome! Don't! I don't…!"

"It's okay, love," Rome groans, still fucking you. "You don't have to worry. I will take care of you and our pup. I will fuck your cunt until you are round with my child. I want to see your tits grow with milk and your stomach with our pup. Maybe I will always keep you pregnant and ripe."

Tears run down your cheek from pleasure and fear. Your body and your mind tell different things, and you can do nothing because of the spinning world around you. Your walls flutter around his cock, your stomach tightens into a burning coil.

"Take my knot, love," he demands. "Let me fuck my mate pregnant. Let me have this, love. Just open up your pussy for me, and I will do the rest."

There is no way you can fight against him. His hold on you is too strong and tight, while your limbs feel like jelly. He bullies your cock, filling you up to the brim.

Rome's whole world narrows down on your sweet hole as he forces his knot inside your wet pussy. Every nerve in his body bursts with pleasure when he is inside you fully, and he can't move without tugging and pushing you with the rhythm of his hips pounding your hole.

His growl shakes the walls as he cums inside you. He shoots into your hole several times until, even through the barrier of his knot, some still escapes your pussy.

"Ohgod!" You cry, shaking and jerking. Your eyes roll back into your skull as you reach your climax. You suck Rome for every drop of his cum he can give you. Your pussy aches and burns so deliciously that you can do nothing, but rock back against him for more. His chuckle is hoarse next to your ears when he notices what you are doing.

"It's 'kay, love," he hums, still keeping his weight on his arms. "My rut will keep me going for a while longer before I'm done with you."

"What?" You gasp, breathless. "We are not done?"

"Didn't you hear me?" He hums, pushing inside you more if it's even possible. "I won't stop until you are with my pup."

- Masterlist Meriad Masterlist Patreon

[heathermason6060]

Daryl Dixion x f!Reader Nsfw: Fingers in your Mouth

Warnings/Mentions: Oral, Daryl gets you off with his boot, gagging, throat fucking, he forces your mouth open

Summary: Your attitude and snarky remarks earns you a red face and watery eyes after Daryl accepts your challenge.

Notes: I love rough Daryl I love rough Daryl

Your attitude was going to get you killed, or worse. Or better. 

Yeah, this was a lot better. 

You weren't really a ��brat’ per se, but there were times when people were acting so dramatic and over the top that it drove you to catching an attitude. 

Like back at the farm where Shane, Lori and Rick were having their melodramatic soap opera. You called them out on it, and got a lot of shitty looks. 

Or when Daryl would get overly grumpy and start pulling away from everyone. You called him out on that too. What you didn't know was that he was looking for a reason to go off, and you calling him a cliche lone wolf that needed to get laid was the perfect reason. 

“Need to get laid, huh? S'that what you think?” He laughed in your face, throwing his hands up for emphasis. 

You mocked him, tossing your arm like you were throwing a basketball in a hoop. “Nah, I know it. I know your type. Sleezy redneck who'd fuck any bitch that would give him the honor. Shit ain't so easy out here, and that's why you're treating me like a goddamn mosquito buzzin’ all up in your face.”

He watched you, his eyes following your hands as if he expected you to pull out a gun and start waving it around. He hung his crossbow over his shoulder and folded his arms as you spoke, nodding like he was actually paying attention.

“Ya' done?”

You laughed and rolled your eyes. “Go get your dick sucked. Better yet, go fuck that redhead that lives across the street.” You referred to the Alexandrian resident, the one who had been drooling over Rick, Daryl, and Abraham the day you all arrived. 

“I got a better idea.” 

He snickered at that, and started unbuckling his belt.

You narrowed your eyes and tilted your head, your hands immediately going to rest on your hips. “What? Gonna go on a week-long hunting trip and come back even more of an asshole? Speak to the trees?”

Your eyes widened. 

“Woah, dude.” The laugh that came from your mouth was dry and anxious. You held your hands in front of you, palms out in surrender. “Wasn't serious.”

“Nah, I think you were.” He slipped the leather through the buckle, and began walking towards you. “Melissa's at home. Don't feel like walkin’ all that much for a shitty blow job from that dumb bitch.”

“So you'll walk three feet for a shitty blow job from a not dumb bitch?” You swallowed hard, glancing over your shoulder at the outer walls behind you.

Maybe you shouldn't have followed Daryl out of Alexandria to bitch at him for leaving the shower a muddy mess. 

Now he was in front of you, working on the button of his jeans. 

You didn't want to seem like some desperate whore, but fuck, it had been a real long time for you too. Last time you saw a dick was when you caught Merle pissing on the side of the prison while you were on watchtower duty. That was... what, seven months ago? You had no fucking idea. 

“C'mon then. Make me feel better.” His voice was low then, the same tone he'd use when challenging someone. Daring someone. 

You shifted your feet, watching as he didn't go any further than unzipping his jeans. 

Oh.

Your heart sped up when you came to the realization that he was fucking with you, he didn't actually expect you to suck his dick. He was trying to make you uncomfortable, get you off his back so he could go back to brooding in the woods. 

Your lips spread into a smile, and you took one last glance over your shoulder before bending your knees and kneeling in front of him. 

You grabbed onto the hem of his boxers and pulled them down, watching as his dick, semi hard, rolled out. 

Above you he grunted, obviously taken aback by your actions. He was stiff, almost paralyzed in shock as you grabbed onto his dick and gave him a few long strokes. 

You looked up at him, a shit eating grin on your lips. “Look at that.” His dick was already hard as a rock. All it took was a few lazy strokes. “Didn't think you'd be so easy.”

You wiped the grin from his face the second you got your tongue on him. He choked on his own breath, grabbing your hair as he fought to keep standing. 

Finally he reacted, his eyebrows raising and a grin of disbelief on his face. You knew what he was thinking. ‘Says you’. Says the one about to suck his dick five seconds after he jokingly told you to. 

When you started taking his dick in your mouth, he lost the fight. He pulled away and walked a few steps backwards until he bumped into a tree, and only then did he finally slump towards the ground. 

He raised a shaky hand and beckoned you forward with a curled finger. 

Your heart leapt up into your throat and you had to force yourself to walk forward calmly, and not trip over the numerous branches and twigs littering the forest floor. 

It was hard to act calm seeing Daryl slumped against the base of a tree with his cock out. And he had this look on his face, rather, his eyes. Slightly narrowed with his head tilted back, watching you through his lashes as you approached him. 

They were the sexiest bedroom eyes you'd seen in your entire life. 

You crouched in front of him between his spread knees and reached out to grab his cock again. All the confidence you had a few moments earlier was completely gone, drained from your body the second he looked at you with that darkened expression. 

His knee jerked ever so slightly when you hunched over to take him in your mouth. It was cute, the way he was so responsive to you. If you weren't so turned on (and intimidated) you'd find it endearing. 

You did your best to make him squirm and moan, sucking the tip of his dick with as much pressure as you could manage, swirling your tongue around the head, using your other hand to massage his balls, and it worked.

Confidence was slowly building back up inside you the more you heard him sigh and gasp. That was until you saw his right leg slide up, and felt the tip of his boot between your thighs. 

You gasped through your nose, your jaw quivering around him. 

“Easy, hmm?” He breathed, a hand reaching down to push your hair from his face. The boot thing was unintentional, just an accident. But now that he'd seen you react to it, it was his top priority before cumming down your throat. 

Making you squirm and moan.

You tried to clench your thighs shut, maybe slide down onto your stomach, but that was foolish. A stupid idea. He was wearing steel toed boots and he simply nudged your knees apart, the tip once again sliding against your jean covered cunt. 

The moan that vibrated around his length was filthy, you couldn't help it. You also couldn't help pushing your hips down, and the second moan that came after the feeling of pressure against your clit. 

Suddenly, his boot applied a little too much pressure. You gasped through your nose again, and without even meaning to, grazed your teeth along the head of his dick. 

He cursed, his body jerking up and his hands balling up fistfuls of your hair. 

You popped your mouth off of him, shooting him a glare. “I didn't mean to. You were being too rough.”

“Don't, don't fuckin’ do that.” He hissed, using the grip he had on your hair to give you a rough yank. His version of punishment. 

His eyebrows raised, and his thumb gathered the bit of drool you had on your bottom lip. “You never stop bitchin’, even with a dick in your mouth.”

You scoffed, and did something you shouldn't have. 

You lowered your head back down, and grazed your teeth along his shaft, pulling your lips back in a playful sneer.

He didn't like that, and he sat up straighter. 

His thumb went from your bottom lip to your mouth, shoving all the way back to your molars. He shifted it sideways and slanted, forcing your mouth to stay open, and slipped his dick back in your mouth. 

With his other hand he tightened his grip on your hair and began moving your entire head up and down his length.

You wanted to pull off of him, call him a fucking asshole and tell him to jerk himself off, but his boot was rubbing against you again and much more gently than before. 

The grip he had on your hair wasn't something you could get out of, even if you really wanted to. 

He was considerate at first, moving your head slow and not too low. Just enough to tease the back of your tongue. You'd gotten used to it, finding ways to make it more comfortable, even with his fingers prying your mouth open. 

Just as you'd worked up a routine, he snatched it away from you with a thrust of his pelvis. His tip hit the back of your throat and you gagged, your hands flying up to grab onto his hips to steady yourself. 

He allowed you a moment to breathe, and accept your fate, make any adjustments you might need to before he carried on.

“Like the sound of that.” He grunted, thrusting up and down your throat again. Spit dribbled out the sides of your mouth, bubbles bursting and tears forming in your eyes. “Lot better than your goddamn yappin'.”

You gagged again, feeling his dick slip dangerously deep down your throat. You inhaled deeply through your nose, trying to steady yourself, but his thrusts were relentless. 

“Wha’? Got nothin' to say? Not gonna bite me again? Go on, make my day.”

You weren't sure where this persona came from. It was extremely uncharacteristic of him, but truthfully, you didn't really know Daryl. And no one knew what he was like in bed. No one besides you, now. 

Maybe he was just on edge with all the drama happening in Alexandria. All the deaths and constant fighting. Maybe you were right and he did need his dick sucked, and maybe he already knew that. 

As if he thought you'd actually try to bite him again, he crammed in his index finger, sliding it beside his thumb to force your mouth open even wider. Your jaw ached, and so did your tongue, but there wasn't much you could do. You made your bed. 

The gagging got worse and more frequent the longer it went on. His grip on your hair was brutal, holding your head up in the air, hovering over his pelvis so he could fuck up into your mouth like it was his own fist, and not an actual human. The thought had your stomach flipping, and a muffled moan vibrated around his dick again. 

He groaned long and deep at the feeling. His boot snapped back to life, rubbing up and down against your jeans until your hips took over, grinding down on him to the point he didn't have to move it anymore. 

You were embarrassingly close already. It was mostly due to the fact that you were getting off on Daryl's fucking shoe, but also due to how rough and filthy he was being. 

You'd always thought he'd be the shy stoic kind of man when it came to sex, the same way he was normally. Not whatever sinful monster he was now. 

When you came, you gripped the belt loops of his pants and held on for dear life. Your orgasm was brutal, bulldozing out of your core and sending shockwaves up your torso, buzzing down to your sore clit. You groaned around his dick, grinding your hips down like an animal in heat, not even noticing the way Daryl had stopped moving completely. 

You took a moment to gasp, nearly choking on your spot, and once your shivers stopped, Daryl pulled your head back down, cramming his entire dick down your throat. 

You gagged around him, your throat spasming and clenching when you felt his cum dribble down it. You were both thankful you'd missed lunch, because that exact moment would've had the contents of your stomach on display all over his pants. 

The noises that came from his mouth made up for it. Good lord, they were beautiful. Breathy moans on the way up, and then a drawn out whine that caught in his throat, and he had to swallow hard, panting heavily before letting out that last trembling whimper. 

He drug his fingers out from between your teeth, leaving a thick drizzle of spit slapping against your chin and falling onto the crotch of his jeans. You practically yanked your head away from him, gasping for air and whimpering at the exhaustion shaking through your body. You were fucking shivering from the constant gagging, your abdomen having spasms of their own from fighting the urge to vomit bile. 

You'd never forget the sound of that. 

He looked almost guilty, looking at your poor face. Wet swollen lips, tears running down your red cheeks, your hair a complete mess and your mouth turned into an unintentional frown. 

“Shit.” He breathed, stuffing his dick back in his pants before taking a handkerchief from the pocket of his shirt to wipe your tears, and then the drool. “M'sorry, christ.”

“No, s’okay.” You slurred, your lips twitching into a lazy and satisfied grin. “Was hot. Really hot.”

“Yeah?” He raised his brows, his eyes narrowed in cautious hesitance. 

“Yeah.” You nodded, turning your head to the side as he wiped your jawline. 

He was silent as he took care of you, fixing your hair and offering you water. You could tell he still felt bad, which tugged at your heart. He'd done a complete one eighty after coming, it was sort of sweet. 

Your suggestion worked, that was for sure. 

You glanced down the end of the hall before looking at her, fighting away a smirk. You raised your hand, made a circle with your fingers and moved it towards your mouth in the unmistakable ‘blowjob’ movement. 

He didn't sulk so much the next few days. He actually had dinner with you and the others, which wasn't unusual, but the way he contributed to small talk was. He stayed in Alexandria for a week straight, not even going out to hunt. He was satisfied sticking around and helping out within the walls. 

“What'd you do?” Maggie whispered, her hand still on your wrist from pulling you aside after seeing Daryl laugh. Like, a genuine Daryl laugh. 

Her eyes widened and a laugh burst from her lips. Then her smile faded. “You're serious?”

“Yes.”

The two of you erupted into giggles, and she punched your shoulder playfully. You had to pretend that it didn't hurt. Heavy handed farmer's daughter. 

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @my1fx @iloverocks @jinx-nanami

[baelarys]

𝐈'𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫...𝐈'𝐦 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

Aemond targaryen X reader targaryen

Word recount: 1316

Warning: violence and bad word

Pt2

The headache was relentless, and your thoughts turned into a constant torment. You avoided any kind of conversation, even with your own husband. Since that fateful night when your little prince lost his life, it was as if a part of you had died with him.

The court continued its daily routine, but you felt detached from everything. In times of war, there was no room for mourning, as you overheard one of the ladies of the court whisper. The coldness of those words only deepened your isolation.

The sept was dark, as always, barely illuminated by the dim light of the candles. Alicent had insisted that you accompany her and Helaena to pray. You agreed, not because you believed the gods could offer you solace, but because you had no other choice. However, you didn't even bother to light a candle in honor of the gods. You had lost faith in them, convinced that no merciful god would allow the murder of a child.

You walked back and forth, scratching your arm. The sensation of your nails on the already reddened skin provided a momentary distraction from the headache that plagued you. The murmurs of prayers echoed in your ears, but they couldn't penetrate the barrier of your suffering.

A guard hurried in, informing them that they had to leave the sept immediately. Upon exiting, they found themselves surrounded by an enraged crowd. The citizens' frustration was understandable: they lacked food and were forbidden to leave the city. The inhabitants of King's Landing began throwing trash, and the white cloaks used their shields and bodies to protect the royal family from the people's fury. Amid the chaos, you found yourself separated from Alicent and Helaena. The shouts of "Long live Queen Rhaenyra!" echoed among the crowd, adding another layer of tension.

Aegon, the self-proclaimed king, was not present to face his people, nor was the prince regent. You watched as a man grabbed Queen Alicent by the arm, refusing to let her go.

A bold idea crossed your mind. You knew it could cost you dearly, but you were determined. "Long live Queen Rhaenyra!" you shouted forcefully, and to your surprise, the crowd echoed the cry. Before you could say anything more, you felt one of the guards take you by the arm, urgently leading you back to the carriage.

You were thrown into the carriage, falling to your knees as you entered. Alicent and Helaena were already there. You sat down and shook your aching knees.

Alicent looked at you with a reproachful expression, but you didn't look away. You held her gaze until she turned away, feeling an unexpected sense of liberation. You didn't feel guilty; on the contrary, you felt a bit freer. This war had started because of them, and the death of your son was a burden you attributed to their decisions.

The carriage lurched forward through the tumultuous streets. Although the danger wasn't entirely over, once you returned to the castle, the stares began to fix on you, but you truly didn't care in the slightest.

A few minutes after you set foot in the room, Aemond burst in, furious, searching for you with his gaze. He lunged at you like a wolf toward a wounded prey, his hand entwining around your neck with brutal pressure. It surprised you, but somehow you had expected it.

"Are you insane? Shouting the name of that traitor!" he yelled, pressing your body against the wall.

Despite the pain and lack of air, you found the strength to face him. "Traitor?" you spat the words. "The only betrayal here is from your family. This whole war started because of their unbridled ambition.”

"You don't know what you're talking about!" he retorted, his face inches from yours, his breath hot and furious. "What you did today has put our lives, the stability of the realm, in danger.”

"Stability?" you scoffed, feeling his hand tremble slightly. "What stability? Our son is dead, Aemond. Dead! And it's all because of your family and their lust for power.”

"Do you think I don't know that?" His grip loosened, but he still kept his hand firmly around your neck.

"I wish it had been you instead of him," you spat, each word drenched in hate and venom.

Aemond recoiled, his face paling momentarily from the shock of your words. But the fury soon reignited in his eyes. "How dare you..." he murmured hoarsely, his fingers finally releasing your neck, though they still held a latent threat.

"Because it's the truth!" you shouted, taking advantage of the distance he had created. "All of this, all this chaos and suffering, started with your brother, with your mother. And you're not innocent! You killed Luke, you murdered him, and now we have to live with the consequences of your actions.”

Aemond took a step back, his face a mask of conflict and rage. "Luke..." he repeated in a whisper, as if the name were a ghost haunting him. "It was an accident. I didn't mean to kill him.”

"Accident? And does that justify everything that has happened? Does it justify the death of our son?" Tears streamed down your face, but your voice remained firm, laden with bitterness. "Everything we touch turns to death and destruction. And you still have the audacity to talk to me about stability?”

The tension in the room was palpable. Aemond looked at you with a mix of desperation and fury. Without another word, he turned toward the door, trying to escape the pain you had unleashed.

"You're afraid, aren't you?" you hurled, your voice sharp as a knife. "Afraid to face the truth, to face what you've done.”

In an instant, Aemond turned and slapped you with such force that you felt the blood trickle from the corner of your lower lip. "You're lucky I don't ask for your head for this!" he roared, his voice trembling with fury and desperation. "Afraid? You know nothing of the fear I carry inside.”

The room fell silent, both of you breathing heavily. Aemond looked at you for a moment longer, his gaze filled with a mixture of pain, rage, and something you couldn't identify. Without another word, he left the room, slamming the door behind him.

You remained on the floor, the echo of his words reverberating in your mind. The confrontation had been brutal, and the physical pain from the slap paled in comparison to the open wound in your soul. If only you could fly on your dragon's back and burn them all, raze every stone of King's Landing until nothing but ashes remained.

Slowly, you got up, staggering to a nearby chair. The room was in darkness, a perfect reflection of your inner state. You looked out the window; the dark, cloud-laden sky seemed to mirror your mood. There was no peace or solace on the horizon. The desire to escape was overwhelming. You imagined the freedom your dragon would give you, soaring above the chaos and death that surrounded you. You envisioned the heat of the fire, the purification that would come from destroying everything that had caused you so much pain.

As you lost yourself in your thoughts, a deeper reflection began to take shape. Rhaenyra was not so different from you. She had also lost her children in this senseless war, and her suffering must have been as intense as yours. The war had scarred everyone, turning them into shadows of what they once were.

Neither you nor Rhaenyra were monsters. You were mothers who had seen their children snatched away by a conflict that seemed endless. Hatred and revenge would not bring your son back, but somehow, thinking about revenge soothed the pain of the loss.

[fushic0re]

❝FROM THE START❞

Toji Fushiguro x MamaGuro!Reader

𝑺𝒀𝑵𝑶𝑷𝑺𝑰𝑺 ╮the five times toji realized he loved you; in which you take in the black sheep of the zenin clan.

𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝑶𝑵𝑳𝒀 ╮familial abuse (this is the zenin clan after all). hardship. trauma. a very wounded toji. pregnancy.

TOJI WAS NOT SURE IF HE EVER HAD A LIFE TO BEGIN WITH. 

But if he had to say when he thought it ended, his answer would be at six. Toji’s parents were said to have struck gold. His father was next in line to be the clan head with two strong and healthy sons by his side. His elder brother Jinichi did not possess the Ten Shadows, but he was talented enough to outlive any scrutiny from the family–besides, he was a son and not a daughter. On the eve of the new year, Toji welcomed the Zenin clan compound with his screams. All eyes were now on the newest Zenin, seedlings of possibilities planting themselves in the very soil the little one’s feet touched. Seedlings that would never grow. 

On the eve of another new year and Toji’s fifth birthday, one that was meant to be celebrated greatly, there were no signs of cursed energy manifestations. Winter gave way to spring, which then gave way to summer until summer faded into fall, and fall into winter. As the seasons changed, Toji did not. By his sixth birthday, the clan elders officially declared that Toji had zero cursed energy–a Heavenly Pact, they called it. A first in jujutsu history. At six years old, Toji Zenin became the shit stain of the Zenin clan. At twelve, they started throwing him into the disciplinary pit to fight curse after curse with nothing but his bare fists. His parents never blinked an eye. He was sure they were hoping not so secretly that one day, he would never come out. 

At 20 years old, he left. Like a thief in the night with nothing but the clothes on his back and a knapsack of food he managed to store away, he left the gates of the Zenin compound. Not a single trace of him was left–not that anyone cared. Time meant nothing to him. For what could have been months or years, Toji lived like a wild animal. He slept on the streets when he was not serving as a bedwarmer for women who were too soft-hearted or too desperate. They fed him, but when the currency his hulking physique and rugged looks provided him ran dry, he ate scraps. He rarely bought food with the money pitiful strangers tossed at him, but one cold day led him to a hole-in-the-wall ramen shop. 

It was a small little place that hardly sat ten. The kitchen was cramped, but the aromas it produced were heavenly. With his meager earnings, the lone wolf bought himself a steaming bowl of ramen that he devoured at a speed that he would find embarrassing had he maintained his dignity. No one acknowledged him. For once, he was just another face in the crowd. Toji’s emerald eyes rested on the empty porcelain bowl in front of him, mocking him unforgivably. With a bitter expression, he glared at the bowl. He wondered how far down he had spiraled into the abyss of nothingness that was his life to end up in these circumstances–a simple household item reminding him of everything he was not. Since day one, his bowl had run empty with no one to fill it. 

Until you. 

Toji’s train of thought is interrupted when one of the owners, an elderly woman with a withered face and silvery wisps for hair, places another bowl of steaming tonkatsu ramen in front of him. His hard eyes meet hers.

“I didn’t order this.” He states gruffly. 

Despite his harsh expression and soulless delivery, the elderly woman’s features melt into a warm expression. 

“That girl at the end bought it for you.” She says giddily, discreetly pointing a bony finger in the direction of his benefactor. “A real sweetie. She’s a regular.”

He tracks the elderly woman’s finger. His eyes narrow as soon as they land on you. He did not appreciate pity in the slightest. Just as he is about to open his mouth and tell you off, his stomach rumbles. The sound prevails over the clanking of utensils, garnering the mystery woman’s attention. Not expecting to be caught, she gives Toji a sheepish smile before snapping her head back around to bury her nose in her book. Toji finds himself at a crossroads. If he ate the bowl, he owed her. If he did not, he would be wasting the rarity of free food. Once again, his thoughts are interrupted by another elder–the old woman’s husband. His fists knock on the table just as he appears before Toji, and a kind smile is on his face. 

“Son, just eat.” He jests before disappearing. 

Toji scoffs with a roll of his eyes. Old people could never mind their goddamn business, it seemed. But as he stared at the bowl of ramen for the umpteenth time since it had been placed in front of him, an unfamiliar feeling stirred within him. He gave you an unsuspecting glance from the corner of his eye, taking in every feature from the slope of your nose to the shoes on your feet. His eyes could not remove themselves from the warmth in your eyes. With that, he picked up the soup spoon and took one big gulp of creamy broth. He let the heat of the soup envelop his body the same way your eyes did.

For the first time, his bowl was filled. 

THE STORM HAD KNOCKED THE POWER OUT.

You did not know what woke you first–the severe gust of wind that sent branches flying against your window in a repetitive fashion or the bone-chilling drop in temperature the second your heater shut off.  You tried your best to ignore it, curling up under your covers as you pathetically warmed yourself with your breath. It was when your shivers escalated into violent shivers in a matter of minutes that you knew something had to be done. Tearing yourself out of the safety of your blanket cocoon, you scurried to your kitchen as quietly as you could in search of emergency candles. Maybe if you lit enough, they could act as some semblance of a fireplace. To your detriment, the clattering of your teeth was enough to wake the slumbering wolf in your humble living room. Your eyes widen the second you hear the familiar creak of the cushion springs, whipping around to face your impromptu roommate. 

“S-Sorry. It’s really cold, s-so I thought I could light some–” You frantically gesture to the cabinet of candles you had opened, the cold freezing your brain in its poignant state of desperation. “You know. To help maybe.” 

Toji lets out a quiet huff. From where you are standing with one candle lighting the space, you can barely point out the smirk on his face, 

“Don’t be sorry. It’s your apartment.” He mutters, his voice gravely from sleep as he rubs his tired eyes. 

Thanks to his heightened senses, he could see you perfectly. You were in your usual pajamas, ones that worked against you in this weather. With your bare feet on the cold tile, as you shivered, you looked endearingly pathetic. He scoffs. 

“C’mere.” 

You shake your head, wrapping your arms around yourself. 

“I’m o-okay. You should sleep.” 

Toji lets out a deep sigh, sitting upright on your futon. 

“Come here.” He repeats, this time more firmly. “You’re freezing, your pajamas are thin as shit, and the power is out until god knows when which means we have no heater.” 

You’re going to get sick is what he means to say. I can’t bear the sight of you in any state of suffering. 

When you hesitate again, loudly sighs again, patting his lap audibly. 

“I won’t be able to sleep with all the fuckin’ teeth chattering, sweetheart. Stop being stubborn.” He grumbles. 

And with that, he stands up and strides towards you to grab you with the stealth and agility of a panther. You could not help the squeal that escaped from your mouth the second he effortlessly scooped you up and swooped you right under the covers. He was right. The second Toji curled his brawny body around yours, your shivers began to decrescendo. His heat melted your stiff muscles until you fully surrendered, intertwining your body with his. 

“Shit. You’re freezing.” 

“Sorry.” You squeak, snuggling closer to him.

“Stop apologizing.” He mutters, flinching ever so slightly as your cold feet brush up against his calf.

The gesture wills you with embarrassment. 

“Sorry.” You squeak again.

“Christ, woman. I told you to stop apologizing.” 

“....sorry.” 

Toji dignifies your antics with a chuff that carries a hardly noticeable laugh. Closing his eyes, he nuzzles his nose against the top of your head, flooding his senses with the smell of your signature shampoo. He is not used to this–affection. Holding someone. Someone holding him. He finds himself having to squeeze your frame impossibly closer to his to convince himself that this experience is real.

“Stop it.” He murmurs against your head, his voice the softest you have ever heard.

Closing your eyes, you rest your head in the crook of his neck. You fit right in there like a missing puzzle piece. 

“Okay.” You whisper, conceding to sleep. 

“TOJI?” 

It is some ungodly hour when he abruptly sits up in bed, his body coated in a layer of cold sweat. His eyes are enlarged as he scans the room, his orbs frantically darting in every which direction. His heart pounds rapidly against his ribs, his bare chest rising and falling at a quick pace. He is numb, unable to feel a single thing as his brain transports him back to that place. That god-forsaken place. Since the two of you began sleeping in the same bed, his night terrors diminished into nightmares until they ceased altogether. For once, just once, Toji thought he could outrun his past. But just like the scars on his body, darkness was ingrained in every fiber of his being. It ran through his bloodstream, pumping into his heart and fueling every move he made. He was stupid to think he could live a life like this with you. People like him simply did not belong in the realm people like you existed in, so good and so pure. 

“Hey,” You whisper, rolling onto your side to face him. “Did you have another nightmare?” 

Your voice feels like the sun. Not in the way it gets in your face and makes your eyes sting to the point where all you want to do is get away from it. No, he could not run from you. No matter how far he got in his head, he simply could not. 

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart. You got work in a few hours.” He rasps.

He pulls you into his arms, resting his cheek on the top of your head. Like clockwork, he grounds himself with your touch–skin against skin, your heartbeats creating a rhythmic cadence until ultimately his own slows down and thumps in tandem with yours. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“It’s nothing. Sleep.” 

You cannot help but frown. It was hard whenever he got this way. You did not mind, of course, that was not the problem. It was watching him wrestle with himself in his head until he was numb again. It was the vacant look in his eyes. Whenever Toji broke, a part of you did too. If there was a way to physically pour love into him until he was bursting at the seams, you would–anything to never see that lifeless expression again. Sitting up, you reach for his face, cradling his jaw in your palm. 

“Don’t say that. It’s not nothing.” You say gently yet sternly. “The things that hurt you aren’t nothing.” 

Just like that, Toji feels like that seventeen-year-old kid again who desperately craved approval and a sense of belonging in a system that actively worked against him just because he needed to feel something. You disarm him not in a way that makes him feel scared and defenseless, but in a way that assures him that he is no longer in a state of survival. Unless it is for you, his days of fighting are over. Even then, he was very capable that you could hold your own as a Grade One. Yet still, if he had to bloody his first for anyone, it would be for you. 

“I was back there again.” He says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Your eyes soften. 

“You’re not there anymore.” You assure, running the pad of your thumb across his cheekbone. “You’re here–” 

“You don’t get it.” He snaps “I can’t change shit. No matter where I look, I’m back there in that fuckin’ hole.” “You. Are here. With me.” You state firmly, cupping his face with both hands now and forcing him to meet your gaze. “You escaped. And now you get to forge a new path for yourself. It’s not going to be easy. You’re going to have a lot more nights like this, but the difference is you’ll have me. No matter how much you try to push me away because you think I don’t get it just because I grew up in some ‘cushy’ sorcerer family, you can’t push me away. I’m not going anywhere.” 

Toji clenches his jaw. A part of him hated when you were like this, blindly believing every conviction that came out of your mouth. It was downright painful. In these moments, he could not bring himself to believe you. 

“This is just the way it is.” He mutters defiantly, turning his face away from you as he clenches his fists at his sides. 

Your heart feels like a stake has been driven through it when your touch makes him flinch. But now is not the time to lead with her feelings. He needed you. you meant every word she said. 

“I am promising you that. My cold, dead body is gonna have to be pried away from you to get me to leave you.” You shakily whisper, trying your best to keep your emotions at bay as his pain causes your body to react viscerally. 

He does not answer you, continuing to avoid your gaze. The only sign that he had not gone catatonic was the way his chest began to heave. He was losing it. 

“Toji…look at me.” 

He remains frozen in place. A tense silence builds between the two of you, threatening to force the two of you apart until you are too far gone to be retrieved. For the first time since you naively welcomed the then-homeless stranger into your home, you felt scared of him. The grave distance is closed when he finally meets your gaze, a wild and terror-filled expression in his eyes–the same one he wore the day you met him. 

“You and me. When shit gets tough, we’ll fight through it. If you don’t want to fight, I’ll fight for both of us. No matter what, we’re doing life together.” You breathe, swallowing the lump in your throat. 

Toji remains silent, simply staring at you with an unreadable expression. Finally, his hands stop shaking and he unclenches his fists, resting them on your cheeks. The warmth of his palms makes your eyes involuntarily flutter shut. 

“You’re gonna get sick of me.” 

Your response is a mere shake of the head. 

“I’ll get sick of you not wiping down the counter after you brush your teeth or wash your face. Or when you don’t put the dishes away right when I ask you to.” You laugh softly. “But sick of loving you? Never.” 

That earns a throaty chuckle from him. Leaning forward, he presses his forehead against yours. 

“I’ll give your bossy ass something to complain about.” 

Before you can retort, his lips are pressed against yours. This kiss is a far cry from the passionate, sensual, all-consuming kisses you both usually share. No words need to be said this time. His lips imprint unspoken locutions of ardor and besottedness into yours. I love you. I’m sorry I’m a fuck up. I don’t always have the right words to say. Please. 

That night, Toji surrenders. 

HIS NAME WAS MEGUMI. THEIR BLESSING.

Regardless of his gender, that is what he was to Toji–his saving grace.

The two of you hadn’t exactly planned on having a baby so soon. It was about a year after you and Toji’s small intimate wedding that you found yourself feeling…off. Fatigue was the first symptom to make itself apparent. No matter how early you slept, your body still fought against you whenever you were awake. Then it was the hunger, which amused your newlywed husband. Funnily enough, Toji decided to take up cooking to mitigate your sudden appetite increase. Your condition was obvious from that point on. Nine days before Toji’s birthday and the new year, Megumi was born. Just like his daddy when the two of you were wed, Megumi took your last name–Fushiguro. Just like that, the three of you were a little family. As Toji held his newborn son in his arms, he realized that he had done it. He forged a life of his own from the darkness you pulled him from. 

And it’s moments like this in which the first thing he sees is his son’s big green eyes staring up at him in the middle of the night that he realizes how much of a test fatherhood was. He runs a hand over his tired face, rubbing his eyes before he places a finger over his lips as he agilely slides out of bed. He glances over his shoulder to check if you are still asleep before effortlessly scooping Megumi up into his arms and quietly exiting the bedroom. 

“What’s the matter?” He murmurs, his sonorous voice raspy from sleep. 

Megumi is quiet for a moment, the five year old rubbing his eyes with his small fists. He hangs his head low. 

“I keep seeing them.” He says quietly. “Can’t sleep.” 

Toji frowns, his large hand smoothing over the back of his son’s head. 

Not too long ago, Megumi began to see curses. The two of you were prepared for the dreaded day he would, you could feel your son’s cursed energy develop little by little until it was suddenly surrounding him like a forcefield. Your reaction to the matter was much different than the Zenin clan’s–you were scared, terrified even. Megumi’s cursed energy manifesting meant the possibility of him becoming a jujutsu sorcerer was officially established. With that came the painful realization that you could lose your child at any moment. It was a refreshing experience for Toji to witness; healthy parenting, the love of a mother. He could not even bring himself to be surprised that you were such an amazing mother. After all, you had amazed him in all aspects of life. 

“Do you want to go back in there?” Toji asks nudging his head towards Megumi’s room.

The toddler ponders for a moment before shaking his head, his eyes apprehensive. Toji does not question him, simply nodding and making his way to the kitchen. A quiet silence makes itself home between father and son as Toji prepares a warm cup of milk for his mini-me. Once the drink is ready, he gently places Megumi on the counter and hands him the cup. 

“Careful.” He says, his eyes swimming with concern as they take in Megumi’s appearance thoughtfully. “Talk to me.” 

Megumi takes a cautious sip, testing the temperature of the creamy beverage before drinking it more freely. His lips press together, and a million feelings that he cannot describe run through his head. 

“You and mama see them too right? The…curses.” He whispers. “When did you stop being scared of them?” 

For a five year old, Megumi was quite insightful. His perception skills were exceptional yet amusing when paired with his childish and innocent wonder. Hearing such a small voice ask questions beyond the scope of a child still gave Toji a whiplash. 

Toji lets out a noise that is akin to a laugh and a huff, shaking his head ever so slightly as he does so. 

“Who says we’re not?” He answers much to Megumi’s–whose eyes are now wide with shock–surprise.

Toji struggles to find the right words to say. This was usually your thing; he was never one to console with the power of words. No, to this day, he still finds it easier to fight his way through conflict. But then there is Megumi staring up at him with his eyes, fear and trepidation tainting the usual sparkle in his eyes in a way that reminds him of himself when he was this age. His son had everything he wanted for the majority of his life–the very gift that could have saved him a world of hurt–and was still being subject to the ugliness of sorcery. 

That is all it takes for Toji, who is now a father and not a fighter. 

He washes the violence away with a warm sip of milk from a sippy cup that is so small in his hands that it is borderline ridiculous and uses his once bloodied hands to cradle the small, precious being that carries his heart against his chest. He shields this boy with all his life the way he himself should have been, carrying him to the couch for a cuddle. 

“Remember how mama and I showed you how to summon your dogs?” He whispers, wrapping an arm around Megumi as he settles at his side. 

Taking his tiny hand, he situates it into the correct signage. Megumi looks up at him for assurance before his Divine Dogs are loyally at his side, their cold snouts nudging him happily. The toddler giggles, wiggling around with the excited canines. Once they have settled down, curling around him protectively as they snooze, Toji smiles down at him and presses a tender kiss to his forehead. 

“Whenever you’re scared, your pups are here for you. You understand?” Megumi nods, now content. Toji is silent for a moment, at a loss for words yet again but for a different reason this time. He’s overwhelmed by emotions, ones that he cannot even name. He blinks his eyes, abruptly pulling the toddler on top of him so he could wrap his arms around him tightly. 

His child. The one you gave him.

All you have ever done is give, and give, and give until you gave him the greatest gift of all.

“Can’t breathe.” Megumi murmurs against his dad’s chest. 

“You’re fine.” Toji whispers, swallowing the lump in his throat. “You’re fine.”

It was fine. Everything was…fine. 

Finally. 

“WAIT, FUSHIGURO IS YOUR LAST NAME, SENSEI?”

You have to press your lips together to hold back your laughter as Yuuji and Nobara stare at you with shocked and bewildered expressions, Megumi unphased yet exhausted by the antics of his friends. Toji barks out a loud laugh from behind you, resting his hands on your shoulders. 

“She makes the money around here. Might as well.” 

“I think you’re doing great, Mr. Fushiguro! Feminism!” Yuji cheers exuberantly, turning to Megumi and Nobara for approval only to be met with perturbed expressions. 

“Then get a job.” Megumi grumbles. 

Toji simply kisses his teeth, removing one hand from your shoulder to ruffle Megumi’s hair. The teen hurls out a string of disciplinary phrases, only amusing his father who smiles smugly in return. 

“Your mom doesn’t want me to work. She thinks I’ll cheat on her. So possessive.” 

The gasp that immediately leaves your body is dramatic enough to land you a role in a soap opera. Your husband only directs his smug smile to you now, gazing down at you with the familiar playful yet fond expression he has maintained for a decade now. And just like it did exactly a decade ago, it irritates you to no end. 

“You’re easily bought. I know that firsthand.” You quip. 

“You were eager to buy this hu–” 

“Please not this again.” Megumi laments. 

Nobara and Yuji stare at Megumi with expectant expressions. If they had tails, they would definitely be wagging expeditiously. Toji claps Megumi on the back unnecessarily hard, making him glare at him for the umpteenth time in an hour. 

“Oh come on. You didn’t tell them how your mama and I met?”

“Why would I tell them that?” 

The two young sorcerers respond with a clash of loud pleas and declarations of camaraderie, how dare Fushiguro withhold this part of his upbringing for them, haven’t they gone through enough together? 

Toji’s hands knead your shoulders. He bows his head, nosing the top of your head. His eyes flutter shut, a satisfied hum rumbling from his chest. 

“Let’s just say I loved her from the start.” 

[artinvain]

guys my smut has typos in it bc I write them when I’m really horny! and I’m always really horny!

masterlist under the cut (men minors and ageless/blank blogs blocked INSTANTLY)

men & minors dni. this is a lesbian safe blog.

abby anderson

abby breeding... again oops

pervy!roommate! abby

scissoring more scissoring

sub!top abby!!

vibrating, squirting strap + breeding kink w abby!!!

you see abby at a family and friends gathering after a long time

abby breeding kink brrr

fuck abby's breeding u again

abby talking you through it

abby talking you though it 2 (sorry)

abby talking you through it again 😭

toxic!bff!abby denying she’s in love with you (pt.1) (pt.2)

needy!reader x service top!abby pt 2

needy!reader x service top!abby

(very) mean toxic!bfff!abby

dealer!abby hc

gentle sex w abby

abby as a succubus

scissoring

breeding kink!

short abby pwop

abby punishes you

rough!abby spoiling you

toxic!abby

abby being obsessed with your ass

breeding kink! 2

fire fighter abby

abby degrading you

abby grinding on your ass

sub!top abby slapping ur pussy

service top abby drabble

sevika

sev takes care of you

scissoring drabble

sev's squirting strap

sevika fucking your face

scissoring w sev

face-fucking... again

scissoring w sev... again lmfao

sevika comes home to you

vampire!sevika (might be a series)

wolf of wall street (modern au)

alpha!sevika drabble

alpha!sevika again lolol

stone butch sevika 1

stone butch sevika 2

chef!sevika

stone butch sevika 3

subtop sevika

overstimulating sevika

scissoring w sev drabble

ellie williams

ellie ties you up

strapless strap

pwop ellie's strap game

fucking in the club

ellie drabble (smut)

[sluttysnowangel666]

The Wolf & The Wildling

Part 2 to The Woman Beyond the Wall, last part.

masterlist

Summary: One year after Cregan’s near death experience with the wildling woman he met, he returns beyond the wall to find and recruit her in hopes of fighting alongside him for Rhaenyra Targaryen at the start of the Dance of Dragons.

cw; smut af come on you know me, really rough cregan, overstimulation, bit of angst but a happy ending :3, talks of SA, childbirth, no use of Y/N but an x reader,

stop not me getting emotional at my own story bc i imagined the end of scott street by PB playing at the ending😭am i a cornball?? anyways, thank you to the anons in my asks for the inspo, i wasn’t even really sure how to continue this story, although i knew i wanted more for cregan and his wildling, you guys gave me the inspiration i needed to give them their ending! tag list: @rebeccawinters

Every day Cregan hadn’t gone back out there felt like another day wasted.

He struggled to do his duties, struggled to sleep, fight, listen, do anything that required attention from him.

And yet despite their rather harsh separation, Cregan still thought of her with every free moment he had. It didn’t help many lords were also insisting the Warden of the North marry a noble daughter. He knew he had to do his duty, but couldn’t find the strength to do it.

It had been so long since he’d seen her that he’d begun to forget his favorite parts about her. It felt as if her strange laugh no longer echoed in his mind, as if he could no longer envision her scarred yet still smoothed skin.

He had the dagger with him always. It was like keeping a piece of her with him. He remembered the pain so vividly, could still feel the throb in his shoulder if he thought about it too hard.

Yet, the ache was nothing compared to the painful thought that always seemed to stay in his mind.

Would he ever see her again?

He couldn’t help but wonder if the Gods had greater plans for them. He prayed that they did.

“My Lord.” A voice interrupted Cregan from his thoughts. He stood, turning to face the person. “A raven has arrived from Dragonstone.”

Cregan took the scroll from the maester, quickly opening it to reveal its contents. It was a letter from Rhaenyra Targaryen. She was sending her son in hopes of gaining the support of the North, and requested Cregan have an audience with her heir, Jacaerys.

He would have to return to the Wall.

He hadn’t returned, much to the dismay of the Nights Watch, since he had nearly died from his wildling’s arrows. Even the thought of going near the Wall made his heart skip a beat. She would be so close, yet so far. He knew he could no longer avoid the wall. His duty to the men there was dire, and he had let his own fears get in the way of that.

As for his lover, he wasn’t even sure she still wanted him. As far as he knew, she hated him; she wanted to put an arrow through his eye, his dagger through his chest. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to see her again. No lady had ever compared to her. He had found his other half, and now felt empty without her.

If he did find her, what would he even do? They were bonded by love, yet separated by more than a Wall.

The separation would soon not matter anymore.

Winter is coming.

———

A fortnight later

Castle Black

Cregan had welcomed the prince to Winterfell, then accompanied him to the Wall.

The young men walked, discussing terms of Cregan’s service.

“In winter, my duty to the Wall is even more dire than the one I owe to King’s Landing. I need my men here.” Cregan says to his prince.

“Whilst your men guard against wildlings and weather,” Cregan twitched at the word wildling. “the Hightowers plan to usurp the throne. If my mother is to defend her claim to hold the realm united, she needs an army. War is coming, to the whole of the realm my lord. We cannot wage it without the support of the North.”

Jacaerys trails off, standing against the guard that overlooked the entire outside of the Wall.

“My father brought King Jahaerys and Queen Alyssane to see the wall. His Grace stood at this very outlook and watched as their dragons, the greatest power in the world, refused to cross… Do you think my ancestors built a 700 foot wall of ice to keep out snow and savages?”

“What does it keep out?” Jacaerys asks.

Cregan finally looks beyond the Wall for the first time in a year, his mind thinking of her for a brief moment, and then the darkness that lies beyond it. “Death.”

“I have thousands of graybeards who have already seen too many winters. They are… wellhoned. I can ready them to march at once.”

“If your graybeards can fight, the queen will have them.”

“They’ll fight hard.” Cregan says, his mind once again thinking of his love as he says his next words. “Like Northerners.”

Jacaerys senses something; more words that the Warden of the North wished to speak.

“Is there something else you can offer us, My Lord?” Jacaerys asks.

Cregan hesitates. “There is a woman…” He looks. beyond the wall again. “She is fierce, deadly with a bow. If I can find her… I can ask her to lead the graybeards into war.”

“Should she accept, my mother will be more than pleased to have her.” Jacaerys asks.

“My Lord!” Cregan turns, “A raven has arrived… Urgent news from Dragstone.”

Cregan looks at the man holding the scroll, who holds a sight of worry on his face. Cregan quickly opens the scroll, reading its contents.

Cregan looks at the prince, and Jacaerys tries reading the man’s stoic features.

All Cregan can do is hand Jacaerys the scroll, and let him read for himself.

———

Another fortnight passed following the news of the death of Prince Lucerys Velaryon. Jacaerys had left the Wall at once to return to Dragonstone, whilst Cregan began to prepare his graybeards to march.

“My Lord, why must you go back beyond the Wall? The graybeards do not need a leader. I do not think it wise to let them be lead by a woman beyond the Wall, let alone the one who killed the Lord Commander of the Nights Watch.” His maester tells him, worried of how the people of Winterfell and the men on the Wall will react.

“They will not know she’s a wildling. Tis’ not important information. All they need to know is she will lead them well into battle. I trust you’ll keep this information I’ve shared with you private, Maester Windell.”

“Of course, My Lord. You can count on my discretion, always, but I fear wonder if this journey is for more than a leader.”

Cregan stops his packing, not wanting to share more information than he already has with his maester. “No, maester. I only am going to help the Queen. I will be back shortly, with or without the wildling. Winter is coming, and I will not get lost beyond the Wall.”

The maester didn’t argue, so Cregan made his fortnight journey back to the Wall, and then beyond it.

He felt fear when his horse took its first steps onto the icy tundra outside the Wall’s gate. He feared he would not find her, feared she may have died, feared she would kill him before he got to kiss her one last time.

The late summer snow was not too harsh yet, but Cregan knew he did not have long to find her before Winter came.

He searched for days for her.

He returned to the spot where he first set up camp, finding the bark where he had carved a dire wolf had been completely torn and shredded by a knife.

When he returned to the cave it was dark, and no trace of her had been left behind. It made it feel like the moments they shared in there never happened.

He felt lost. He set up his camp in the cave, but she had not snuck to it during the night like last time. If she had, she truly left no trace. But, he knew he hadn’t felt her yet. She wasn’t there.

2 weeks into the journey, he had dreamt of her.

He dreamt he was a wolf, hunting, when he finally saw her.

She was sleeping, ever so soundly, beneath a bright red weirwood. He growled at her, and she awoke quickly, immediately grabbing and aiming her bow at him.

She gasped quickly, catching her breath as adrenaline coursed through her veins.

She released the arrow into his eye, and he awoke.

He was sweating despite the cold, and the burning feeling in his eye was lingering.

He rubbed it softly, but then directed his attention back to her in the dream. It was really her. She looked different. She looked stronger somehow, and her hair had grown greatly. She had it in a long, thick braid. There were bags under her eyes, like she had been exhausted from something.

He stood and exited the cave. The sun was slowly rising, but there was a blue hue that made the snow on the ground glisten. He closed his eyes, stretched, and yawned when he heard a sound.

It was a familiar sound… the sound of a bow string being pulled tightly.

He lowered his arms from his stretch, and opened his eyes.

There she was.

There she was.

She knelt on one knee, aiming her arrow at his eye. Her eyes burnt with a fire that he’d never seen, her breathing was quick and angry, her lips turned in a sad scowl, she was fueled with adrenaline.

He smiled, laughing softly. He couldn’t believe she was here. She pulled the string tighter at his sweet smile, her heart breaking at seeing him truly here.

He took a hesitant step towards her, but stopped.

A soft whining sound came from her back.

His smile faded.

She lowered her bow slowly, eventually dropping it completely. She had a fabric diagonal across her body. She moved it underneath her arm, and then twisted it around her body.

Her hands gently found and cradled the babe.

Cregan gasped. He couldn’t believe it.

She softly hushed the babe, tracing her fingers over its face. She whispered soft, comforting words to it. The babe made gentle little noises.

“Is that…” His voice was barely above a whisper. She looked at him solemnly. His hand covered his mouth.

“This is your son, Cregan.” She finally spoke. Her voice was smooth and melodic, different from how he heard her last time. He stepped towards her, falling to his knees. His whole body was shaking, and not from the cold.

“Does he have a name?” He asks, holding his arms out, hoping she’d trust him enough to hold his son.

She nervously hands him his child, fearful he might take her little babe, her only piece of Cregan, and never return again.

“No.” She says. “I only birthed him a moon ago.”

Cregan can’t hold it in anymore, and begins sobbing. All of his emotions pent up from the last year pour out. He holds the babe close to his chest, sobbing relentlessly.

He’d missed her so greatly this past year and now seeing her here, alone with this little babe, he’d realized how badly he erred. He wasn’t there to comfort her, hold her, help her. She had suffered it all alone.

“I’m so sorry.” He sobs.

She stares at him, her face unwavering. She was so angry. She wanted to kill him so bad, to take back her babe and cut his throat.

But, she couldn’t.

He’d broken her heart in such an unimaginable way. She’d cried over him for weeks, and when her blood hadn’t came she knew the worst had happened. But now he was here, holding their babe and sobbing like a child. She didn’t even know Cregan was capable of such emotions. She didn’t truly know him, and he didn’t truly know her.

Her hand found its way to his broad shoulder to try to comfort him. Her other hand moved to cradle his cheek. He rested his face into her hand, spilling wet tears on her.

“Oh, Cregan.” She whispered, wiping the never ending tears from his cheek. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his, hushing him like she did their babe. She wrapped her other arm around him, bringing her warm body against his while still being careful of their infant.

“I’m so sorry.” He repeats. “I should not have left you. I should have killed those men and brought you home-“

“Sh, sh, Cregan.” She whispers again. “I’m yours, as you are mine.”

Her words send him back into tears. She presses soft kisses to the tears on his cheek, weaving her fingers in his curls that she desperately missed.

“Where have you been?” He asks, minutes after calming down. “I’ve searched these whole damn woods for you.”

She smiles softly, “You think I don’t know that?” He smiles. “Why did you come back here, Cregan?”

He looks down at their sleeping babe, then back at her. “I’ve wanted to come back every day since I have been apart from you… But, I couldn’t find the strength. I regret it more than anything. I regret leaving you, I regret not coming sooner, I-“

She cuts him off, placing her warm lips onto his. Not breaking the kiss, her hands take the babe from him, setting him aside next to them.

“What are you-“

She slaps him across the face, with such a strong hand that he can’t help but stop and look back at her in total shock. She pulls his lips back into her, confusing him with her back and forth attitude. “If you ever leave me again, I really will put an arrow through your eye.”

He smirks, pulling her back into him with his strength. “Now we’re even.” She whispers.

“We were even when you nearly killed me last year.” He says, she growls at him, but they continue kissing. “I wear these scars with honor.”

She tears into his soft clothes, “Take him inside, and then come back out here and make me yours again.”

He pulls away with haste, grabbing his babe gently and walking back into the cave. She follows, right on his heels. He finds a safe spot for their babe, setting the sleeping child down.

He turns, grabbing her by the neck and kissing her, pushing her backwards out to the cold.

“Be gentle with me.” She whispers into his lips.

“No.” Cregan says, ripping off her furs and throwing them on the ground. She smirks, not wanting him to anyway.

He grabs her by her hair and she shrieks. He pushes her down to her knees, and she sits in the cold snow once again. He unlaces his breeches, and she quickly tugs them down with his soft clothes.

She presses her cold fingers onto his pelvis, and she places gentle kisses along his length. She looks up at him with her big, doe eyes. He pulls her head back by her hair again and she gasps. He pushes himself into her mouth, immediately groaning at her warm tongue. She moans around him, placing her hand at what she can’t fit in her mouth. He grabs both sides of her face, thrusting his hips into her mouth, not realizing his roughness. He had missed her so much, and he was so lost in the pleasure of her mouth.

She gagged repeatedly, her eyes flowing with tears. Her free hand rested on his toned stomach for balance, and she scratched her nails into him from time to time.

He pulled her head back with a pop of her lips, and looked down at the little mess before him. Her cheeks were stained with tears, drool spilling from her lips, her thighs rubbing together to relieve the tension between her legs.

He pushed her back into the snow and got on his knees, placing himself between her legs. He wrapped his hand around her throat again, rubbing his fingers at the wetness between her legs.

“You’ve missed me?” He asks.

“I’ve missed that cock.” She teases.

“Don’t worry. There won’t be much to miss soon.” He presses a harsh kiss to her lips, sliding himself into her. She gasps into his lips, trying to pull away to cry out, but he refuses to let her go. He pulls one of her legs to his chest to give him a deeper angle and she whines into his lips. He starts thrusting, fast and harsh, into her healing cunt. His hand moves from her throat to her breast, now round and large with milk than the last time he’d had her.

“Cregan!” She cries out loudly, finally breaking free from his lips. She throws her head back into ecstasy, her hair becoming wet from the snow. Cregan moans loudly, his thrusts sloppy and quick.

“I’m putting another babe in you.” He moans, forgetting why he was there to retrieve her in the first place.

“I’ll fucking kill you.” She says, slapping him across the face. He looks at her angrily, a wolf awakening inside him. He grabs her face, his fingers digging into her cheeks as he fucks her harshly and angrily.

“I’m gonna cum.” She whines, squeezing her eyes shut tight.

“Don’t.” He says. She gasps, begging and pleading for her release. He slows his thrust, leaving her in agony. She bucks her hips towards him, but he pushes them down, locking her in place with his strong arm.

“I fucking hate you.” She moans.

“Cum for me then, and we can see if that is how you feel for me after.” His thrusts go back to their fast, sloppy pace, and she moans. Her hands grab his wrist, clawing her nails into his forearm.

She hits her peak and moans his name repeatedly. Her fingers dig into the snow again, the other hand digging into his arm. He growls, not stopping and continuing to thrust.

“Stop it.” She whispers, her body shaking at the sensitivity. Cregan doesn’t listen, only maintaining his harsh pace. He lifts both of her legs to his chest, his length touching her womb. “Please, Cregan, fuck!” She whines, tears spilling from her eyes at the overstimulation.

Her fists hit his chest, and yet he continues. She slaps him across the face, over and over again, and he still continues, his face stoic, desperate for nothing more than to see her writhing beneath him.

She sobs as she cums on him again, slapping and hitting him harshly. Her body is a trembling mess, peaking with pleasure and pain. Finally satisfied, he lets his own peak wash over him, filling her to the brim with his seed again, right against her womb. He rests over her, moaning and biting her neck, despite her nails scratching and drawing blood against his neck.

“Cunt.” She moans into his shoulder, holding him tightly against her shaking body. He pulls out, gently, allowing her to rest before he carries her back into the cave, stepping into the hot spring with her in his arms.

She rests against him, and it’s as if they had never been apart. He looks over at their sleeping babe on the ground, smiling gently. He looks back down at his love, his smile fading.

“There is a war brewing in Westeros.” He finally tells her.

“What for this time?” She asks, drawing little shapes on his chest, not seeming to really care about his answer.

He decides to wait to tell her, instead wanting to enjoy the moment with her.

“I’m sorry for what I said to you… before I left.” He says. She sighs.

“Cregan… Do you wish to know why I killed the Lord Commander?”

He looks down at her, confused. He assumed her only reason was she hated crows. She looks up at him.

“Why?” He asks.

She waits before explaining. “He’d come out there before with some of his men. They often hunted wildlings for fun. They’d tell the men back at the wall it was for a hunting exhibition, but really… They were tired of the women from some place called Mole’s Town.”

Cregan was still confused.

“That was years ago, when I was in a tribe… But, the crows just kept coming back… And our tribe refused to leave, because our ancestors had settled there hundreds of years before.” She pauses, “The Lord Commander always said I was his favorite… I left eventually. Turns out I’m safer alone. That’s when I started killing crows.”

Cregan realized he was gripping her arm too tightly, and loosened his hold. What she said changed everything. Men were coming beyond the Wall to force themselves on wildling women. He wanted to be sick. Cregan’s last words to her before he left… that he would kill her for what she did.

Anger ignited inside him, but there was nothing he could do. The Lord Commander was dead, she got her revenge. But, the thought of that happening to her, the words he spoke before he left her alone. It was too much.

She noticed his tension, and placed her hand on his cheek. “My wolf.” She whispered. He closed his eyes and turned away from her touch.

“I’ve failed you… Again, and again, and again.” He says, tears spilling from his eyes.

She straddles him, forcing him to look at her. “Aye. You have.” He looks at her, not expecting brr bluntness. She wipes his tears. “But you’re still mine, Cregan Stark… and I’m not perfect either.”

He presses a soft kiss to her lips, wrapping his arms around her.

“So, what were you saying about the war?” She asks, resting her head on his shoulder.

“There is a war forming between the dragons. It is growing more and more dire.”

“Dragons?” She asked. “Like in the stories?”

“Aye, my lady. Except these are no stories. The dragons are dancing, and the North must stand ready to fight with the true Queen.”

“Queen?” She asks. “Aren’t you King in the North?”

“No, my love. Starks bent the knee over a century ago.”

She leans back to look at him. “Bend the knee to me.”

“I do every time I stick my cock in you.” She laughs, a sweet and gentle laugh, no longer the chaotic one she used to do.

“You’re different.” He says, a smile on his face.

“I am a mother now. My child has softened my witch heart.” She jests.

Mother. The mother to his child, specifically. He couldn’t ask her to lead the gray beards no longer. She needed to return to Winterfell with him to raise their son. His smile fades and she notices.

“You’re different.” She repeats his words. “Why did you come? Truly?”

“You are a warrior… and the North must stand ready.” He looks at her, his eyes worried.

“You… You want me to fight?” She asks, stepping off him and standing. The water stops at her hips, and he tries hard to keep his attention focused on her face. “Just a moon after I nearly died pushing out your fat little babe?”

“No, no, my lady. I do not want you fighting no longer.” He looks at her, taking her hands in his. “I want you to come home… with me. To Winterfell.”

“My home is the North.” She says, taking her hand away.

“No, no.” He stands, resting his hands on her arms. He looks over at their sleeping son. “He changes everything.”

His son would be considered a bastard, by all traits, but he was his son nonetheless. He would raise him as a Stark… as his heir to Winterfell.

“Home is not a place.” Cregan says. “A home is what you make it… My place may be in Winterfell, but it is not my home if you and my son are not with me.”

She sighs. “I’m no lady, Cregan.”

“I know… and I don’t care.”

“I will not watch you marry a noble while I am your whore that you force to work in your castle and fuck at night.”

“I would never ask that of you.” Cregan says, putting his hand on the back of her neck to pull her closer. “Starks are honorable men. You will be my wife, and my son will be my heir. I will kill any man who ever dares harm you again.”

She stares at him as he continues. “I needed an excuse to come back out here… If I told them I came out here to get you to lead the Northern army, then it raised less suspicion. But, I care no longer. I only care about you.”

“What if I say no? That I won’t join you?” She asks.

“Then I would accept.” He looks at his son. “All I ask is you let me bring him.”

She looks at their son. Cregan continues. “He will never know a cold night, he will learn to fight among men, he’ll have a full belly every time he goes to sleep, he’ll be respected by all those around him… and if you came, so would you.”

She looks back at Cregan. “He will join you.”

Cregan closes his eyes, her hand resting against his cheeks.

“As will I.” He opens them to look at her again.

“Truly?” She nods. He laughs, breathlessly, pulling her in for a deep hug. His fingers weave into her hair, holding her tightly against his chest.

“I will fight for you as well.” He pulled away to look at her.

“No.” He says. “No, I need you with me at Winterfell.”

“Cregan… A queen! You honor me, choosing me to lead your Northern army.”

“I don’t want you to.” He says. “What of our son? You could be gone for years… You could not return.”

She laughs, “My Lord Stark… You’d be a bloody fool to think any man could kill me.”

“This is hardly a war between men, my girl. This is a war between dragons, and none will ever be so bloody.”

“Cregan… I am of the free folk, which means I will always be free. Being free means I have the choice to fight for you… and for a Queen.”

———

Cregan returned to Winterfell a week later, carrying his babe in his arms on his horse, with a wilding woman behind him.

His maester was bewildered at the sight before him. “My Lord… Who is this babe you carry?”

“Maester, this is my son and this woman here is his mother… and my betrothed. She will be leading the graybeards in the war. Call upon wet nurses and maids to help foster our son while she is gone.”

“A-At once, My Lord.” The maester stumbled over his words, giving the wildling one last look before going to do his task.

Later that night, her and Cregan sat in his chambers. His lover couldn’t help but explore and ask questions about everything in the castle.

“What is this?”

“A pen and paper.”

“What does it do?”

“Well, you tell the maester a message and then he writes it down and gives it to a raven to send off.”

“And this?”

“A tub.”

“What does it do?”

“Bathes you.” It went on like this for hours, but he didn’t care. He was glad to share with her his way of life. Her naiveness at noble life was sweet.

When they cuddled up in his furs in their now shared bed, she laughed with giddiness. “Ask them to bring more.”

“My love, you’re under four bear pelts and the hearth is at full flame, you’re going to get hot.”

“Hot?”

“Warm, my girl. Too warm.”

“I don’t care. This is all so exquisite. You should’ve brought me here much sooner, you know.”

Cregan simply smiled, looking down at their son in his arms. “Did you have any names in mind for him?”

She hums, resting on her elbow to face them. “Cregan is quite a handsome name.”

“We can name give him a Stark name if you like mine.”

“Like what?”

“How about… Benjen Stark.”

“Benjen.” She whispered, sitting up and touching her son’s dark locks. “I love it.”

Her and Cregan locked eyes, staring at each other in silence. “You don’t have to go, my love.”

“I do.” She says, cradling Cregan’s cheek.

“I wish to marry you, make you Lady Stark of Winterfell.”

“I will be your… Lady… when I return.” She says, unsure of the proper term to use.

He laughs, “Wife. You will be my wife. I can have the maester teach you to read and write upon your return.”

“Truly?” She asks. “Like stories?”

“Stories, history, anything my betrothed wishes to read she can.”

“Betrothed?”

“It means we’re to be wed, at some point.”

She presses her forehead to Cregan’s. “I can’t believe I am here.”

“Neither can I, my love.”

He presses a gentle kiss to her lips, and they fell asleep like that, Benjen full and warm in his father’s arms.

Cregan and his love were only able to share a few nights together before it was time for her to march with the graybeards.

“You are strong, my lady. Command these men like you did me, and they’ll follow you anywhere.”

Cregan lifted her onto her horse, and she nervously settled into the saddle. He stepped onto his own, Benjen tightly secured to his chest as the babe was to his mother when Cregan stumbled back upon them.

She took her hand in his, and he pressed a gentle kiss to it. “Come back safe to me, my girl.”

She smirked, “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to kill some Southerners.”

“Goodbye, my sweet boy.” She says, touching Benjen’s hair one last time.

“Take care of our son, Cregan.” He nodded, tears welling in his eyes.

“I have a gift for you before you go.”

His master at arms came to him, handing him the freshly made dire wolf crest. He pinned it on her chest, and she looked down, tracing her fingers over the craftsman ship.

“You are a Stark… from this day, until your last day.” He said. She looked at Cregan, pride in her face.

“I’ll make you proud, my Lord Stark.”

He handed her the dagger, the very thing that brought them together. “I know you will.”

With that, she turned and slowly began to leave with her horse.

She turned to look back at them. “By the way, I killed your horse last year.”

Cregan’s smile faded, but then she laughed, and he couldn’t help but laugh too. She turned back around, and he looked down at his son, his beautiful little pup. The babe’s big gray eyes staring back at the ones he inherited from his father.

Cregan rode the opposite direction from her. He turned again to look at her one last time, and she turned to look at him too.

He smiled at her, letting the tears fall. She smiled back. He watched her ride the opposite way, and she watched him as he rode back to Winterfell until they could no longer see each other.

He would miss her greatly, but he knew she would return. This parting would not be forever, for they knew that they were bonded by love, seperated by only distance this time. No wall, no duty, no pain would ever come between them again.

He couldn’t wait for her to get back to them so they could start their life together.

Forever.

[livefastdrivefaster]

I Love You! | LN4

Pairing: Lando x Fem!Reader

Summary: The early stages of your relationship with Lando. Meeting his friends and saying "I love you" for the first time! Fluff (also a bit of suggestive language).

Word count: 1.2k words

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You had been dating Lando officially for nearly a month and a half now, and he had decided it was the right time to introduce you to his friend group. One of Lando’s friends were hosting a birthday dinner at their flat in Monaco, and he had spent a week convincing you that you needed to come. You felt uncomfortable at the thought of inserting yourself into his group, but you were new to Monaco, and would appreciate meeting more people your age there. You had met through a mutual friend, who would be at dinner tonight, but you had never gotten to know their extended circle. 

You didn’t live in the same apartment, but you lived close enough where you decided to finish getting ready at your boyfriend’s penthouse and travel to his friend’s party together. You were in Lando’s bathroom, struggling to put your earrings on when you heard him call your name from the kitchen.

“Y/N, are you almost ready to go love?” He calls.

“Yeah!” You respond enthusiastically, cautiously treading out of the bathroom, still trying to put your earring on. 

The backing finally clicks when you come into Lando’s line of sight, and you feel a blush creeping up on your cheeks as he unashamedly looks you up and down. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he says with a low voice, pulling you into him “Maybe we should just show up a little later?” He asks suggestively, placing a gentle kiss on your collarbone. You seriously didn’t mind the idea, considering how good he looked himself right now.

“I can’t let us be late to the first time I’m meeting your friends, Lando.” You laugh, wrapping your arms around his torso. 

“Why do you have to be so sensible.” He sighs into your neck.

“One of us needs to be. Come on, the Uber is outside.” You say, tentatively pulling away from him. He takes your hand in his and dramatically marches forward, guiding you out the door. 

- - - - - - - - - - -

The two of you were stood outside the address, bickering about who should knock on the door. You desperately didn’t want to, but Lando thought it would be good to build your confidence before meeting his friends. 

“Please Lando, just do it for me.” You plead, giving him a laughable attempt at puppy eyes. 

“Be a brave girl.” Lando says, lightly pushing you towards the door. You sigh loudly, raising your arm to the door.

“I am so getting payback for this.” You say threateningly, which is only met with laughter from Lando. Disappointed he saw right through your empty threat, you knock twice at the door. 

“Coming!” A voice calls from the inside, and you hear footsteps approaching the door. You take a step back, letting Lando’s arm circle around your waist. 

Suddenly, the door swings open and you are greeted with the face of the birthday girl. 

“Y/N!” she exclaims excitedly, “You are even more gorgeous in person, come on in.” She says, pulling you into a tight hug. 

“I’m here too.” Lando says sarcastically. 

“This isn’t about you.” She quips back, leading you inside the flat. Lando rolls his eyes, following the two of you into the main party area. 

Your arrival brings about cheers from the group, as about five people offer you a drink at once, desperate to get to know Lando’s new and elusive girl. Eventually, the energy of the party shifted into a low-key vibe, with people congregating on the couches discussing their favourite movies. 

“I’ve heard enough about the Wolf of Wall Street,” a girl, whose name you find out later to be Ria, exclaims, “what about your favourite movie scenes in particular?”

“Jordan Belfort’s big party in the Wolf of Wall Street.” A guy calls out jokingly. A few groans go around the room.

“That scene in ‘Perks of Being a Wallflower’ where Emma Watson hangs out of the car in the tunnel, listening to David Bowie” You cut in, followed by awkward fumbling with your drink.

A symphony of agreement rises around the room, particularly from the girls in the group. You settle back into your seat, trying to fight a proud smile from growing on your face, happy that your comment went down well. Lando squeezed your side lightly, giving you a silent congratulations. 

The conversation flowed well through the rest of the evening, and you involved yourself more, easily fitting into the lively group dynamic. Eventually, the party wrapped up, and you and Lando decided to Uber back to his, potentially to fulfil his request from earlier. 

“How did that go, do you think?” You asked him, placing your head on his shoulder. 

“They loved you.” He said simply.

“Yeah?”

“Well, I think you’re pretty great. And they trust my judgement.” You smiled softly at this, nestling your head deeper into the crook of his neck.

- - - - - - - - - - -

You and Lando had just finished celebrating your six-month anniversary at one of Monaco’s nicest restaurants, when you both climbed into his convertible McLaren to drive home. 

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence, Lando’s free hand placed on your thigh. Suddenly, Lando takes an unexpected turn, leading you away from your apartment. 

“Lando this isn’t the way back to mine.” You say, looking at him confused. His eyes remained focused on the road ahead, but his mouth widened into a cheeky grin. 

“I know, I thought we would go the scenic route tonight.” He said casually, as if it was such an obvious thing he was doing. He takes his hand off your thigh to press a button on his centre console, causing the roof above you to open, revealing the midnight blue sky above the city. 

“Let’s hope I timed this right.” Lando says to himself, and you again look at him confusedly. The song playing through the car’s sound system ends, and you hear the familiar opening notes to “Heroes” by David Bowie coming through the speakers. Your eyes flick to the road ahead of you, and you realise you’re heading towards the Monaco tunnels. 

“Lando…” Your voice trails off, touched at the thoughtfulness of his gesture.

“Save the thanks for when we get home. Hop up baby, we are nearly at the tunnel.” He smiles, patting the area of the car behind your head. 

You perch yourself on the flat top behind your seat, enjoying the cool air wrapping around your body.

“Are you sure this is okay?” You ask Lando cautiously. 

“Of course, love. There aren’t cameras through here, and you know I will drive carefully.” You feel like a rebel, testing the law a bit. As the music swells into the chorus, you raise your arms to your side, recreating the iconic scene you talked about so long ago. 

Your eyes flicker between being open and shut, wanting to take in the most of the moment, but also not daring to look away from Lando for too long. Watching his curls being tousled by the wind, you instinctively lean down to him.

“I love you!” You yell, the words leaving your mouth before you had time to stop them. Lando looks at you through the rear-view mirror, beaming a wide smile.

“I love you more!” 

[bat-mom-writer]

Impulses

Bruce Wayne(Husband) X Reader(Wife)

Summery: you can be very quick to act on your impulse, usually being done with a kind heart. But can sometimes lead to you and some others being hurt.

Note: Something tells me Bruce wouldn't go to therapy, but this isn't real so...

Rate: Loving Bruce, the very small almost of angst

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So, tell me Bruce, are you happily married?"

"Of course."

"Then why are you here?"

"Well," Bruce pauses, thinking over his words carefully, "it's not exactly that simple."

The therapist's office was quiet, the kind of silence that felt like it was holding its breath. Bruce Wayne sat in a chair that was a little too small for his broad shoulders, his eyes darting to the clock on the wall. It was a simple room, with a few plants scattered around and a faint scent of lavender in the air, but it was the last place he ever thought he'd be. He was a man who dealt with Gotham's problems from the shadows, not one who talked about his own in a well-lit space with a box of tissues within arm's reach.

"How so?" the therapist asked again, her voice gentle but firm, bringing Bruce back to the present.

He sighed. "Well, my wife… she's incredible. She's kind and she's the glue that holds our family together."

The therapist nodded, her expression neutral. "But?"

Bruce leaned back, rubbing his temples. "But she's… impulsive. She does things without considering the consequences, especially when it comes to the boys."

The therapist made a note in her pad. "Could you give me an example?"

Bruce sighed heavily, his mind racing with instances. "Once we went hiking, and she found a baby wolf, injured and alone. She insisted on bringing it back to the manor to care for it herself. Most of my sons thought it would be a great idea—until we realized it had a pack out there looking for it, and suddenly we had a bunch of very unhappy wolves on our backs."

The therapist looked up, raising an eyebrow. "I see. And how did that situation resolve?"

Bruce chuckled, a bit nervously. "Let's just say there were a lot of stitches involved. And I haven't heard anyone wanting to go camping again ever since."

The therapist's eyes widened, but she remained calm. "It seems she has a heart of gold, but maybe a bit of an overactive sense of adventure."

Bruce nodded. "Exactly. And it's not just with animals. She once tried to organize a surprise street carnival in the middle of Gotham because she thought the city needed more joy. You can imagine the chaos that ensued with all the traffic rerouting and permits she didn't bother to get."

The therapist's pen stopped mid-stroke. "Ah, so her intentions are good, but the execution could use some work."

Bruce nodded emphatically. "You have no idea. She's the love of my life, but sometimes I worry she's going to get us all into trouble. The boys look up to her, especially Dick and Damian."

The therapist leaned in slightly. "How do Dick and Damian react to her impulsive nature?"

"Dick tries to be the voice of reason, but he's young and still learning the ropes of being a responsible older brother. And Damian," Bruce sighed, "he's more like me—he's intrigued by the chaos she creates, but he's also the one who ends up getting hurt when things go awry."

The therapist nodded understandingly. "It's natural for children to look up to their parents, especially when they see the love and good intentions behind their actions. But it's also important for them to learn about boundaries and the potential consequences of impulsivity. How does your wife react when you bring this up with her?"

Bruce leaned forward, his expression a mix of affection and exasperation. "She's… well, she's stubborn. She sees the world as a place full of possibilities, and she wants to experience all of them. I get that, I do. But we can't live our lives on the edge like that, especially with the kind of enemies I've made over the years."

The therapist nodded, her gaze thoughtful. "It's a delicate balance, isn't it? Wanting to keep your family safe and also allowing them the freedom to live their lives fully. How have you been managing this?"

Bruce's smile grew a bit wistful. "Well, my wife is also the lively part of our lives. Without her, the manor would be just a fortress, not a home. She brings laughter and light to every room she enters. She's the one who convinced me to let Tim build a skateboard ramp in the garage, and even though it's a hazard to my cars, I can't help but smile when I hear them all out there, having fun."

The therapist nodded, understanding the complexity of the situation. "It sounds like you appreciate her spirit, but it's important to establish boundaries to ensure everyone's safety. Have you tried discussing the potential dangers with her?"

Bruce leaned back, his eyes drifting to the floor. "I've tried," he admitted. "But she's… she's like a tornado of love and enthusiasm. It's hard to say no to her."

The therapist nodded, her expression understanding. "It's clear you care deeply for her and the boys. Perhaps it's time to find a way to channel that enthusiasm into safer outlets."

"I know," Bruce said, running a hand through his hair. "But she's so… so alive. It's like trying to cage a butterfly."

The therapist nodded. "It's not about caging her, Bruce. It's about guiding her. Teaching her and the boys to weigh risks and rewards. To channel their energy into something positive without endangering themselves or others."

Bruce sat in silence, contemplating her words. He knew she was right, but it was easier said than done when it came to his vibrant wife. Her zest for life was both infectious and overwhelming at times. He thought back to the street carnival she had organized. The look of joy on the citizens' faces as they played games and ate cotton candy was something he hadn't seen in Gotham in a long time.

"There not all bad," he murmured, a small smile playing on his lips. "Her impulses have led to some amazing moments, too."

"Like what?" the therapist prompted, her curiosity piqued.

Bruce's smile grew as he recalled a recent incident. "Last week, she found out about a fundraising event for an underfunded children's hospital. Without asking, she decided to host a masquerade ball at the manor. She convinced Alfred to help, and together they transformed the place into a fairy tale. The kids had the time of their lives, and we ended up raising a fortune for those kids."

The therapist returned his smile. "That does sound wonderful. It seems her spontaneity has its benefits."

Bruce nodded. "It does. But it's also a double-edged sword. I want to support her, but I also need to keep everyone safe."

The therapist leaned back in her chair. "Communication is key, Bruce. It's about expressing your concerns without squashing her spirit. Have you tried talking to her about how her impulsiveness affects you?"

Bruce sighed, his eyes reflecting the weight of his words. "I've tried, but she takes it personally. She thinks I'm trying to control her."

The therapist nodded, her expression empathetic. "It's a common misconception. Setting boundaries isn't about control; it's about care and safety. Have you framed it that way?"

Bruce furrowed his brow. "I'm not sure. I've usually approached it from the perspective of the danger it could pose to the boys."

"It's important to express your feelings," the therapist said. "Tell her how her actions affect you and why you worry. It might help her understand your perspective better."

Bruce nodded slowly, considering her advice. It was true; he hadn't shared his own fears with her, only the potential risks to the boys. Perhaps that was where he was going wrong.

"Thank you, doctor," he said, rising from his chair. "I'll think about what you've said."

The therapist stood and offered a warm smile. "Remember, Bruce, it's about balance. And sometimes, that means taking a risk to find it."

Bruce nodded, her words echoing in his mind as he left the office and stepped into the Gotham night. The city was alive with the pulse of its inhabitants, a stark contrast to the calmness he'd just left behind. His thoughts were racing, trying to find a way to bridge the gap between his need for security and his wife's boundless spirit.

As he drove back to Wayne Manor, the grandeur of the estate came into view, the gothic architecture a stark contrast to the chaos of the city beyond its gates. The manor was more than just a home; it was a bastion of hope in a city that desperately needed it. The lights were on in the windows, a warm glow that promised sanctuary from the cold outside.

When he walked in, the smell of freshly baked cookies filled the air. You was in the kitchen, humming to yourself as you pulled a tray out of the oven. You turned to him, your face lighting up with a smile that never failed to melt his heart. "Hi, honey! How was your day?"

Bruce took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation he knew he had to have. "It was… interesting," he said, trying to keep his tone light. "How about yours?"

"Oh, you know," you replied with a shrug, placing the cookies on a rack to cool. "Just the usual—keeping the boys out of trouble, planning the next big surprise for them." you winked at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Bruce felt a twinge of both fondness and dread. He knew that look all too well. It was the look you got when she had another harebrained scheme up your sleeve. He walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into an embrace. "How about we talk about these surprises together from now on?"

You tilted your head back, your smile fading a bit. "What do you mean?"

Bruce took a deep breath. "I mean, I know you love surprising the boys, and I love that about you. But sometimes, your surprises have… unintended consequences. I want to be there to support you, but I also need to make sure everyone is safe."

You leaned back, looking up at him with a slightly defensive expression. "Not all of my surprises turn out bad," you said, your voice a bit softer than before.

Bruce felt his heart squeeze at the sight of you, flour smudged on your cheek and apron, looking so earnest. He gave a tight smile, trying to ease the tension. But his face was screaming, "Are you sure?"

You took a step back, "Okay, okay, maybe most of them," you conceded. "But the good ones make up for it, right?"

Bruce sighed, his arms dropping to his sides. "They do," he agreed. "But it's the potential for danger that I can't ignore. And not just for the boys, but for you too."

You rolled your eyes, brushing off the flour on your apron. "Me? I'm fine. I can handle myself."

Bruce's grip on your shoulders tightened slightly. "You know what I mean," he said, his voice serious. "How many times have you ended up in the hospital because of one of your… adventures?"

You winced, remembering the last time you had tried to rescue a cat stuck in a tree, only to end up with a broken arm and a bruised ego. "Okay, okay," you repeated, holding up your hands in surrender. "I get it. I can be a bit… much."

Bruce's expression softened, his eyes searching yours. "You're not 'much', you're amazing. I just don't want to lose you."

You took a deep breath, the weight of his words settling in. "I know," you said, your voice small. "But what about you? You're not much different, Bruce. Maybe even worse. You go out every night as Batman, risking your life."

He stepped back, his expression unreadable. "That's different," he said firmly. "That's for the city."

"Is it?" you asked, looking up at him with a hint of challenge in your eyes. "Or is it because you've convinced yourself that it's your duty? That you're the only one who can do it?"

Bruce's jaw tightened at your question. It was a fair point, one he'd wrestled with in the quiet moments of his life. He knew that his crusade as Batman was driven by his own fears and the need to keep the city that had taken his parents safe. But he also knew that the stakes were higher for him than they were for you.

"I've been trained for that," he said finally. "You… you have the biggest heart in the world, but sometimes you don't think about the risks."

You nodded, looking down at the cookies cooling on the rack. "I know," you murmured. "But it's just so hard to resist when I see something that could bring joy to people, especially the boys."

Bruce stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on your cheek. "I know your heart's in the right place," he said. "But we can't keep playing Russian roulette with our lives, not when we have so much to lose. I don't want to lose you. Or see you get hurt. I'm just asking, please, consider the risks before you act. And come to me, talk to me, let's find a way to make this work."

You searched his eyes, the gravity of his words sinking in. You knew he wasn't trying to stifle you; he was just worried. "Okay," you whispered, leaning into his touch. "I'll try."

Bruce's expression relaxed a bit, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Thank you," he said softly. "Now, how about we sit down and talk about what's been on your mind? Maybe we can come up with some ideas together."

You nodded, swiping a strand of hair from your forehead. "Alright, I'll finish up on the cookies and then we can talk. Until then, want to help? Just to make sure I don't hurt myself?"

Bruce couldn't help but chuckle at your attempt to lighten the mood. "Sure," he said, taking the spatula from your hand. "Let's do this together."

As you both worked side by side in the kitchen, the tension began to ease. You chatted about the different flavors of cookies and which ones the boys would like best, while Bruce carefully placed the finished ones on a plate. The rhythm of your conversation was soothing, and it reminded him of the first time he had met you—how your laugh had filled a room and made him feel alive again.

[callmerainman]

BREAK FROM HEAVEN | Adam x fem!angel!Reader

FIRST PART

plot. Adam, the First Man and Heaven rockstar, invited you to his concert's after-party. Soon, you find yourself making out with him in a nightclub, and the night won't stop here.

word count. 2.1k

tags. smut, Adam being Adam, rockstar!Adam, partying, nightclubs, smoking, making out, hooking up, one night stands, p in v sex, premature ejaculation, asking out, humour, soft dom!Adam

TW! SMUT AHEAD, minors DNI, 18+

a/n. one of the scenes in this fic is obviously a reference to The Wolf Of Wall Street (I love it in a "funny well made irreverent movie" way not in a "alpha sigma grindset" way)

God works in mysterious ways, they say. But nothing is more mysterious to you than the way you ended up in this situation. Making out in a nightclub with Adam, the First Man.

Straddling him on a couch, arms around his neck, lips and tongues busy in a slow dance. One of his hands is placed on your exposed waist and the other is shoved inside the back pocket of your jeans, as he gives your ass sporadic squeezes. Electronic music booms in your eardrums, so loud that you can’t even hear your own thoughts, just the wet sounds of your kisses. Suddenly, Adam pulls away from your lips. You blink a few times, then he leans in, and whispers something in your ear that only you two and hear. As if this night couldn’t get any crazier.

After attending his concert, Adam invited you to join the exclusive after party. You two chatted, discussed music and bands with Adam insisting on your taste being questionable as you made your way towards the night club. There, he proposed you to move your conversations to the dance floor, where you swayed to the beats of electronic music. What a hypocrite he is, you thought. Always blabbering about what is real music and what’s not, and then dancing and enjoying meaningless bass booms. Adam offered you and all his band mates drinks, made you company outside the club for a cigarette break, then took your hand to guide yourselves in the crowd back inside. Oh he was obviously flirting.

“Didn’t take you for a party girl” he playfully said to you.

And then, he placed his hands on your waist as you two started swinging side to side on the floor. Your cheeks caught fire. You knew that he was flirting with you. But then why did you feel your knees melt like butter under his golden irises, so penetrating even in the semi-darkness of the club?Adam is one of your superiors, you shouldn’t even think about flirting back. But oh, fuck it.

“Are you calling me a pain in the ass?” you smirked.

Adam chuckled and pulled you closer, brushing the question off and keeping on dancing. When you said you wanted to take a break, he followed you to one of the reserved tables of the club, sitting next to you. As you and the First Man kept talking, suddenly you found yourself snuggled on his side, his arm around your shoulders, one hand on your thighs and your lips dangerously close to his. And then, all of a sudden, with the audacity typical of an egocentric jerk like him, Adam asked you.

“Wanna make out?”

And, without a word, you just did. You nonchalantly shrugged, and leaned in to welcome his lips. And now here you are, sloppily making out with Adam, as if your entire lives depended on it. Adam tasted so bad, but in a good way. Cigarettes and alcohol, the typical party flavor. He couldn’t keep his hands on himself, letting them roam over your body lasciviously. You, yourself, couldn’t stay still as you found yourself occasionally grinding against his lap. Then, after stopping to catch hair, Adam’s lips got close to your ear.

“Wanna go somewhere more private, sweetie?”

—

You and Adam tumble inside his bedroom, smacking of lips reverberating through the room along with your suffocated giggles. Adam, mouth still interlocked with yours, shuts the door close with a firm kick.

“Oh shit-“ Adam stutters between kisses “you’re too-much”

You go “pff” at his statement, making sure to never miss the chance to kiss him so messily. As you and Adam make your way towards the bed, you realize that you don’t want to question your decisions anymore. You’re enjoying this, a lot. Even if he’s literally the First Man, his authority doesn’t matter to you anymore because you just prefer being carried away.

Dropping on the edge of the bed, Adam looks up at your figure standing in front of him, running his hands up and down your waist.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you’ll never have a reason to listen to The Smiths again” he says, a smirk radiating lust from a kilometer.

Oh, you’re gonna have fun. You raise an eyebrow, pretending to be confused.

“Fucking me? Who said I’ll have sex with you” you inquire.

Adam’s mouth falls open, his hands sliding down from your waist to your hips, and then his touch leaving your skin. You try your best not to burst out laughing.

“Bitch, why would I invite you to my place for? Playing chess? We’re eating each other’s faces!” he protests.

“We could just make out”

“But- what the”

There’s no way you actually managed to make Adam shut the fuck up. You literally left him with no words, his mouth opening and closing like a fish, in search of something to say.

You chuckle, leaning towards him “While I think about it, and I’ll reeeally have to, I’ll go to the bathroom. Can you wait for me?”

Adam frowns “Whatever bi-…ugh I mean yeah okay, first door to your right”

As you disappear in the corridor connecting his bedroom and the bathroom, Adam is left all alone and guessing. He, somehow, had a way with women, and if things escalated to the point where one of them was in his room, sex was always took for granted. Except when Lute crashes to his place to eat junk food and watch TV. But making out in a club with a girl, moving things all the way to his bed, and then second-guessing the idea of having sex? For Adam, the situation is new and desperate. Also considering how much he's thirsting over you, and how rock hard his dick is inside his pants. So, Adam resorts to the only thing left to do.

Praying.

In a hurry, Adam falls down on his knees and joins his hands. He looks up, his golden eyes pleading.

“Hey God, it’s me, Adam, your favorite! I know I’ve been slacking off a bit lately but I’m still your number one creation, am I right? I promise I’ll pay you a visit first chance I get, you know I’ve been pretty busy with concerts and everything. But in the meantime, I’m begging you please, let me fuck this woman!”

As soon as Adam hears the bathroom door unlocking, he frantically gets up, facing the wall. And then, the second he turns around, a wheeze accidentally escapes his mouth. He officially lost the ability to talk a second time.

Because here you are, leaning on the doorframe. Naked. Except for your high socks. A calm smile is extended on your face, as Adam can’t do nothing but stare at you completely dumbfounded. Maybe God heard, after all.

“So? Changed your mind?” you coo, teasingly.

Adam finally manages to recollect his thoughts and put himself together.

“Holy fuckin’ shit balls, no!”

In the end, of course Adam fucked your brains out.

For eleven seconds!

Plunged inside you between your thighs, Adam gives a few more convulsive thrusts, along with strangled moans of release. His wings twitch and his glowing halo flickers. Damn if he cums loudly.

“Fuck, holy fuck I’m…I” he pants, looking down at your stiffened frame with mortified eyes.

“Did you cum?” you ask, frowning in confusion of what just happened.

“Yeah…did you?”

You shake your head “No…”

How was that man put on Earth with the purpose of having sex and yet didn’t have a clue? Sighing, Adam rolls off of you, lying on his back. He looks down at you, and you reciprocate his gaze.

“I can get hard again though” Adam says.

As you give him a small, reassuring smile, Adam brings his hand under the sheets and starts stroking himself, in an attempt to pump his dick up again. Quite the mission, considering that he came a lot. But he persists, squeezing his eyes shut and scrunching his face in concentration as he emits choked groans of fatigue.

"Ngrh..."

“Adam, don’t worry there’s no need to-oh shit” you eyes widen when you look down.

Adam is getting hard again. With what seems like a biblical effort, but he’s actually managing to pull it off. And there it is, the original dick in all its glory, back again after a previous, proficient orgasm. Adam turns towards you with a smirk, and wiggles his eyebrows.

“They don’t call me dickmaster for nothing” he says, before eagerly getting on top of you again.

The urge of asking him if that nickname was self-proclaimed is high, but you don’t have time for that. You find yourself giggling as Adam attacks your neck with his lips, you feel him smirking against it. He slides back inside of you. The filling sensation causes your nails to leave trails of red marks along his back, right between the base of his golden wings. Pleasure invades every inch of your body as Adam slowly gets to the right spot, grazing it lightly at first before speeding up the pace.

“Mh, you don’t realize how fucking hot you were when you came back, all naked for me” Adam whispers, managing to keep up the pace.

You try to talk, but the moans escaping your mouth impede it. You wanna talk back to his cocky, arrogant self, but you’re too overwhelmed by your own pleasure and the sound of skin against skin reverberating through the room as Adam snaps his hips against yours.

“Adam, please don’t stop” you whine, your face scrunching in pleasure as your legs clench desperately around his lower back.

Adam chuckles, the grin on his face devilish. You don’t want to boost his already titanic ego, but it’s hard not to praise him when he’s fucking you so good. One of his hands runs up your stomach, reaching for one of your tits. He fondles it as his pace fastens, the bedsprings creaking and your moans even more desperate. The obscene sensations are evident even on Adam’s face. His shit-eating grin disappeared, replaced with an overwhelmed, flushed face. His mouth is open, gasping for air as a series of disconnected moans flow out of his lips. You didn't even realize that his hands had moved from your breasts to your own hands, interlocking them firmly over your head.

For a second, you and Adam also lock eyes. His pupils are dilated so dangerously, completely lost in the moment. But you're sure that yours are the same. Ugh, why did he have to be so fine?

As you feel your climax approaching, your wings inadvertently wrap around your naked bodies. With a flap, Adam's golden ones do the same, encapsulating your both as you get close to your climax.

"Told I would fuck-ah oh shit yes- I would fuck your bad music taste out of your body" Adam stutters, sending you a mischievous grin as his thrust become more erratic.

You smirk back "But I'm not finished yet-ohh oh holy fuck no I take it back I'm coming"

And with your withdrawn statement, you reach your orgasm, your sex clenching around his dick as it twitches inside of you.

"Aw, cumming already? Can't take the original dick? Well, I can go all night long babe, cause- oh holy shit no I'm coming again too, forget it!"

For a second time that night, Adam sloppily comes inside of you, announcing it with a twitch of his wings and flickers of his halo. He loudly groans in the crook of your neck as you try to steady your breath.

After Adam finishes, he collapses next to you.

"You um...you did cum now did you?"

"Yeah I definitely did"

"Awesomeee"

You give yourselves a couple of minutes to come down your high, pleasure still lingering on your body as you two pant out of exhaustion.

Adam runs a hand through his hair "Shit, that was good"

You felt good, that's what he was thinking. But admitting it would be too much for him. You wipe the back of your hand on your forehead, and nod.

"I think we agree on this one" you sigh.

Adam slides an arm behind your back, pulling you close to his naked chest as you lay your head on it. His heart is still trying to pump enough blood to soothe him. You close your eyes, relaxed.

"Still wanna listen to your sad Brit rock music?" he asks.

"Oh sure, wanna listen to it now to improve after sex? The Cure or-"

"Hell no!"

You chuckle, and Adam twists on his side to face you. His hand reaches your lower back and starts rubbing circles against your skin with the tip of his fingers, in the gap between your wings.

"Are you free tomorrow for dinner, sweet tits? I know a place that makes the best ribs" he says, smiling down at you intently.

Your eyes widen, surprised.

"Inviting me to dinner is not really a groupie thing, y'know?"

"Who said you're a groupie"

"You said it, last week when you invited me to the concert"

"Yeaaah, right. Maybe you are. You still can spare me some time for dinner".

Your hand extends to touch the strands of hair falling on his forehead. What an asshole, you think.

"I'm not but sure, tomorrow for dinner then"

[gorgeys]

school is starting for me rn so im def gonna be writing less but if you have requested dw I haven't forgot about you!! i have 6 sitting in my inbox rn and im working on them as much as i can in order <33

[cookiekissers]

Hi hello, could I request a malewife reader x dark cacao cookie fluff?? Your writing rocks btw 🦖🦖

[Dark Cacao Cookie x House Husband Reader]

AWWWW thanks so much!! <3

Even though the air felt calm then, snowflakes delicately danced on the frigid breeze descending from the mountains. From the tension in the air, everyone knew a harsh snowstorm was approaching. You held on to your husband's arm as you walked through the streets of the Dark Cacao Kingdom, checking in on the Cookies to ensure they were well-prepared for the coming storm. Accompanying you were Caramel Arrow Cookie and Crunchy Chip Cookie, serving as your husband's guards. Two other aides pulled a wagon filled with supplies, distributing bags of essentials to the kingdom's citizens. You gazed up at Dark Cacao's handsome, stoic face. He glanced to the hazy peaks in the distance, a line of worry etched into his dough as he gauged how much time they had before the winter storm hit.

You reached up and gently caressed his cheek with your warm hand, bringing his attention to you. With an amused smile, you brushed away some snow that had collected in his long, dark hair. Dark Cacao Cookie held your hand to his cheek, turning his head, he gave your palm a quick, reverent kiss. Snowflakes had fallen, and delicately rested on his lashes, making him even more beautiful against the stark white snow.

"Don't worry, love, we've been through worse storms. The kingdom can handle it." You said reassuringly. Dark Cacao Cookie didn't answer, but he nuzzled your hand for a moment before letting go.

"The storm is approaching. I'll have Caramel Arrow Cookie escort you back to the castle. Wait for me there," he replied. Normally, you would have insisted on staying right by your husband's side, as you were just as much a ruler of the kingdom as he was. You didn't want Dark Cacao Cookie to bear the entire burden of the kingdom alone. As his partner, you felt that the kingdom was your responsibility too, and you were determined not to let him carry it alone.

But this time, you allowed Caramel Arrow Cookie to usher you back to the castle. You turned to look behind you and saw Dark Cacao Cookie speaking with Crunchy Chip Cookie. The cream wolf captain stood to attention, and after a moment once he received his orders, hopped onto the back of his trusted wolf companion and led the cream wolf squadron to the great gates of the kingdom.

At least this gave you a chance to prepare a little surprise for your husband once he got back to the castle.

The castle servants fussed over you while preparing your surprise, insisting that you let them take care of everything for you. However, this was special, and it was something you wanted to do on your own.

You threw another cream wood log into the fireplace to ensure your shared bedchambers were toasty and warm for your husband when he returned from his duties. But you didn't stop there. You considered yourself a dedicated house husband, and for your lover, you would always go above and beyond for him. You prepped a warm meal and oven-fresh buns for the both of you, lit candles around the room, readied and pressed Dark Cacao Cookie's robes, and took care of any remaining business from the day that regarded the kingdom.

You signed and sat on the edge of the bed after finishing all your hard work. The timing was perfect as the bedroom door opened, and Dark Cacao Cookie quietly slipped inside. He removed his fur-lined cape and shook the snow off before hanging it on the wall. You stood up excitedly and scampered up to him, quickly catching him in your embrace.

"Dear, welcome home!" you said happily. Dark Cacao Cookie's dough was cold to the touch, but he seemed to melt under your warmth. His tired eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled at you. Dark Cacao held you closely in his arms, kissing your cheek affectionately.

"How did everything go?" you asked.

"All the supplies have been distributed. We'll just have to wait and see how we handle the storm when it arrives," Dark Cacao Cookie said with a weary sigh. He looked up and seemed momentarily surprised by the room before glancing back down at you.

"What's all this?" He questioned. You smirked and gave your husband a quick peck on the lips before pulling him over to the bed.

"I prepared all this for you." You said, "So you can relax with me this evening." You smiled sweetly. You picked up his robes, neatly unfolding them and handing them to Dark Cacao Cookie to put on. Your husband's brow furrowed in an all too familiar way when he was feeling guilty.

"Thank you for all this, dearest. But there's more work for-" Dark Cacao Cookie began to say but you interrupted him with a click of your tongue. You gingerly reached up, and took his crown off for him.

"Not this time. I took care of everything today, so you have no choice but to spend the evening with me." You grinned playfully. Dark Cacao Cookie smiled slightly and relaxed. His strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, and he kissed you deeply. Dark Cacao Cookie's still cold lips moved against your's sweetly, and when he pulled away, he sighed quietly against your shoulder.

"Thank you, my dearest." He said gratefully.

You helped your husband undress slowly. Kissing his body lovingly whenever his dark dough peeked out from behind the silky fabric. Slipping his warm, prepared robe over his shoulders, you tied the sash around his waist, kissing his chest tenderly once you were done. You noticed Dark Cacao Cookie watching you with admiration. He admired your every move with such tenderness and adoration you couldn't help but blush like you weren't already married.

Dark Cacao Cookie pulled you against his chest, swaying with you in his arms. He kissed the top of your head as you rested against his chest. How did he get so lucky to marry such a wonderful man like you?

A quiet knock at the door brought your attention away from each other. A servant slid the door open and bowed their head.

"Your majesties," They greeted. "I have today's report of the kingdom's resources." They said. Dark Cacao Cookie frowned slightly.

"Leave it. I will attend to it later. Now, do not disturb us for the rest of the night." He ordered.

[the-scythes-pen]

Duality (Wriothesley x Reader)

A commission for a dear friend of mine with the prompt "gentleman in the streets, feral in the sheets" ♥

Warnings: fem!reader, pet names: baby girl, good girl, etc., filthy filthy smut ending with tooth-rotting fluff, I kinda went feral myself while writing this

---------------

Wriothesley kisses the back of your hand like he worships you. Cups your cheek so gently and reverently, as if you were his queen and he, your king.

The way his eyes beheld yours made your heart flutter; the gentleness in his gaze and the smile on his lips spoke of his love for you- even as he whispered the words “I love you”, it was his expression and the way he held you while he said it that really made sure you understood he meant every word.

Truly, he was the perfect gentleman. It wasn’t uncommon for someone’s grandma or grandpa to see the two of you and remember their youth, when they were with the love of their life, and could recall that the way Wriothesley looked at you was exactly how they looked upon their own partner once upon a time. 

The question of when the two of you would get married was asked often; the old folk who would stop to comment on your fondness for eachother always wondering why it hasn’t happened yet. Of course, Wriothesley would laugh it off, immediately speaking to smoothly change the subject to draw attention away from how bright your face had gotten. 

Yes- everywhere you went, it looked like Wriothesley was the gentlest giant; so loving and sweet with you; your knight in shining armor.

Oh, if they could only see how you looked beneath Wriothesley’s large form.

The way your face scrunched up with tension and pleasure; the mewls you’d let out as his strong hips thrust into your own. 

The way Wriothesley looked at you now was nothing short of animalistic. Of ownership. 

“Gonna cum for me, pretty girl?”

You nod furiously as he continues to berate your poor pussy, feeling his breath fan over his cheek as his arms wrap around you gently.

“Then cum, sweetheart. Cum hard on my cock.”

Those dirty words send lightning to your pussy, and soon you were convulsing on his dick as he continued to rut into you; cooing about how much of a dirty slut you are for him. 

Sharp teeth would nearly pierce your flesh as the wolf growled into your neck; groaning so deeply as your tight walls clamped down hard around his member. Every movement made the bed creak; every moment you could hear the wet slaps of his body slamming so deep into you, tip spearing your cervix with every thrust.

“Gods, I…” Wriothesley’s voice was husky, breathy. “I love you so much…”

His cock twitched as he could feel his balls tighten. Every moan you had spilled for him hit him in that moment; every delicious whimper and plea you made had built him up to this- this desperate, feral beast above you. 

“‘M gonna breed you, love… Would you like that? Would you like me to breed you?”

“Wrio- please-” 

The grip he had on your hips left angry red marks on your skin; a reminder of just how much love and passion poured into his every movement.

Yes, Wriothesley fucked you like an animal. But he also fucked you like he loved you.

Every inch of his thick cock dragged against your slick walls; precum spilling from his tip as he pushed it deeper into your pussy with harsh and brutal thrusts. He smashed his lips against yours, feeling how his cock throbbed heavily within you, and he thought about how heavenly this was- like he wanted to do this every night for the rest of his life.

“Fuck, you’re so tight… just like that…”

He breathes against your lips, voice deep and rumbling as his sweat-coated forehead presses against your own. 

“Need to cum, baby- ‘M gonna cum for you, ‘kay? Gonna fill my babygirl up…”

The beast threw back his head with a guttural groan; his cock and balls twitching with release.

“P-please-!” Your desperate cry for his seed pushed his orgasm into overdrive; and suddenly every pump was spilling semen deep into your guts; pushing it farther and farther inside you with the voracity of a feral animal. He growled deeply as he filled you, hands gripping your hips so tightly that if you were lucid enough, you would be sure his hands would leave marks.

Your pussy clamped down repeatedly on his girth, milking it for every drop of essence he could spill. He lets out another low groan as he feels you tighten, your cunt made for his cock as his hips sputtered with their movements.

Oh, but he wasn’t done- not until you came too. Wriothesley was never one to leave the love of his life unsatisfied.

He grips your hips and lifts up your lower half, ensuring he can hit that spot deep inside you that made you arch your back and moan so deliciously for him- and once you were in that position, he moved one of his large hands to dexterously rub harsh, furious circles into your clit.

“Wrio-!”

You gasped sharply as your pleasure felt like it was about to burst, like you were about to burst. Wriothesley groaned again as he felt your walls flutter, and saw your face scrunch up in ecstasy.

“That's it, baby… that's it. Cum for me, cum for me, pretty girl…”

Despite his heaving chest and the way his cock ached with overstimulation, he was determined to feel you orgasm, and he picked up the pace of his thrusts once more; slamming his dick deep into you with desperation.

“I-I’m gonna- ngh-!”

You arched your back, pretty tits on display for him as he fucked you; clit swollen and pulsating with the furious beat of your heart. All while Wriothelsey coo’d at you, his voice husky and breathy as he told you how beautiful you were, how good you felt, how hot it was to watch you cum on his cock.

And soon enough, the tension inside you snapped, and a gush of fluids drowned the wolf’s dick in your release as you came. The sound of wet slapping echoed through the room as he continued to pound into you, fucking you thoroughly through your orgasm. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck-!”

And suddenly, it was all too much for your lover as well- his cock twitching violently within your tightness as he came again, his face burying into the crook of your neck as he continued to pump himself into you; his dick just barely spurting leftover cum into your guts.

All too soon, it was over- the both of you panting so, so heavily as you came down from your highs. The once noisy room was reduced to just the sounds of heavy breathing; the feeling of his sweat-slicked body pressed against your own as his arms slid around you, holding you tight against him.

“Gods- you feel so fucking good… You’re amazing…”

His lips press a sloppy kiss to your skin, and you whimper in satisfaction at the sensation. He continues to place kisses upon you, his heart swelling behind his firm, broad chest as he litters marks of love across your flesh.

“I swear… It was like you were made for me.” He groans. “I love you so much…”

His lips brush the corner of your own, and you’re quick to turn your head slightly to capture him in a loving, yet lazy kiss. It’s sweet, intimate, and you can taste the saltiness of sweat, but it doesn’t matter- nothing else matters other then the way Wriothesley holds you, the way he cherishes you and loves you unconditionally.

When the kiss breaks, he buries his face in your neck again, breathing in your scent as he holds you.

“Wanna do this every day for the rest of my life…” He murmurs. “...wanna fuck you and love you every single day…”

You can’t help the way your heart flutters beneath your breast; the way his husky voice sounds so loving and sincere- you know that in this fucked out state that he means every word he says.That the way he holds you is like the way a lover would hold their soulmate.

“...Marry me.”

He murmurs into your skin, pressing another kiss to the side of your neck.

“Let me make you the happiest woman on earth.”

“Wrio…”

Your eyelids are wide open at his words, despite how exhausted you feel; and your lover pulls away from you just enough to look down at you, and you see the sincerity in his expression.

“I’m serious.”

He takes your hands off of his neck, pinning your wrists on either side of your head to the mattress.

“Let me love you for the rest of our lives. I want to see you walk down that aisle- I want to treasure you and treat you the way you deserve.”

It’s unusually silent in the room after this, as your brain scrambles to process his words… scrambles to respond to him.

“Yes.”

Without a second thought, the word tumbles from your lips. And just like that, his lips come crashing down onto yours for a passionate, heated kiss.

Because, despite how this man fucked you like a feral beast- whether it was in the sheets or in a tucked-away alleyway, he was always a gentleman to you. Always loved you with his entire being. He always valued your words, your feelings, your love… and he was sure he would cherish you for the rest of your lives.

With your hand in his, you tamed the wolf. The savage beast of the Fortress of Meropide. The man who was undisputed in all of the underworld bent a knee only to the one he loved with all his heart. 

The kiss was broken with a soft gasp, the two of you breathing heavily once more from the intensity of your love. His touch was gentle as he brushed hair from your sweat-coated forehead, and his smile was even sweeter.

“My world, my love… my everything.”

He speaks softly, nuzzling his nose against yours as his steely eyes close in bliss, savouring your warmth and touch.

Wriothesley, the Wolf of Meropide, was a lovesick fool for you. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

-------------

Kofi

[cece693]

My Pretty Boy (Michael Myers x Male Reader)

Just something I wanted to try out cause even a murderer needs pampering from time to time :) This Michael Myers doesn't follow the movie, game, or remake (in terms of tragic backstory); he's my own take on the character. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: M/n was a killer who used his good looks as bait to draw his victims in. Yet, you know who wasn't so keen on the idea? His boyfriend, Michael Myers.

In the dimly lit alleyways of Haddonfield, a young man strode with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, his piercing [color] eyes scanning the shadows for his next prey. Unbeknownst to those who crossed his path, he was a predator disguised in the guise of a gentleman, a master manipulator who wielded his charisma like a weapon. No one had yet to discover his dark secret, for who would ever suspect an ideal member of society to be a killer?

Pretty privilege was a thing, and m/n knew how to use it to his full advantage. With chiseled features and an allure that could disarm even the most vigilant, he effortlessly manipulated those around him. And that manipulation didn't stop with unsuspecting people, it also included other killers such as the boogeyman himself, Michael Myers.

Their relationship was a rather interesting one—with both men being dominant, it was a challenge for m/n to ease the other into a more submissive role. But oh, when he did, m/n swears he was in heaven.

Michael was a kitten in wolf's clothing.

Despite the blood on his hands, responsible for the demise of countless souls, they possessed a surprising gentleness that could soothe even the deepest wounds. His muteness, a chilling characteristic to any sane person, transformed into a language of intimacy when wrapped in m/n's embrace.

Just the thought of his boyfriend brought a smile to m/n's face, however, his moment of bliss was rudely interrupted. Stopping mid-stride, m/n turned around to see a drunkard leaning against a brick wall.

"What's a handsome man like yourself doing wandering the streets at this hour?" he slurred, his words tinged with a mixture of bravado and flirtatiousness.

M/n arched an eyebrow, smile transforming into a smirk as he replied, "Just enjoying the night. But I'm not as lonely as you might think." The glint in his [color] eyes hinted at something the drunk man couldn't quite grasp.

"Well, lucky for you, I'm here to keep you company."

As the gap between them narrowed, the stranger's arm snaked around m/n's neck, the gesture a brazen display of invasive familiarity that sent a shiver of disgust down his spine. About to push the man off, m/n sighed in relief when Micheal stepped out of the shadows and did the job for him.

Watching with satisfaction as his lover immediately plunged a knife into the man's chest, not stopping until he was nothing but a puddle of mush on the street, m/n felt himself grow aroused. It always pleased him to see Michael in his element; the blood splattering on his lover's mask and suit, painting it a pretty red, never failed to send a shiver down his spine. And knowing this was all for him; that Michael's actions were fueled by jealousy and possessiveness only increased m/n's desire.

When Michael stepped away from the corpse, breathing labored, m/n wasted no time and rushed at the killer. Pushing his lover onto the brick wall, m/n looked down at Michael with dark eyes.

"Impressive as always," he purred, the raw edge of desire evident in his voice. His fingers traced the contours of Michael's mask, feeling the remnants of the stranger's blood. "Did you enjoy the show, pretty boy?"

As the words hung in the air, a subtle flicker of disapproval crossed Michael's mask—his jaw tightened imperceptibly, and a glint of jealousy flashed in his eyes. M/n, ever perceptive, caught the subtle shift in Michael's demeanor. With a teasing smirk, he leaned in, bringing their bodies closer together. "Oh, don't pout, my love. You know you're the only one I want."

Michael remained silent, his gaze locked onto m/n's, the mask concealing the complexity of emotions that roiled beneath the surface. Another thing people seemed to overlook in Michael was his insecurities: yes, he was a stone-cold killer, but he was also a person who harbored deep-rooted issues. With his sister, father, and the town as a whole disregarding him during childhood (where he took matters into his own hands by killing them), Michael didn't want m/n to abandon him either. Beneath the stoic facade that Michael presented to the world, there lay a well of loneliness and longing.

Touching the bottom of his lover's mask, m/n lifted the rubber to expose Michael's lips before kissing them. The kiss was dominating, with m/n pressing Michael further onto the wall, but within the passion, there was a mutual understanding. That each belonged to one another, and nothing could break that apart.

[cheeeeseburger]

I'm an Aston Martin

Fernando Alonso x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: English is not my first language, apologies for the mistakes. Enjoy!

Even at 25, crossing the street was scary. People were driving so damn fast these days. Most drivers didn’t stop to let go you anyway. You were getting impatient, waiting on the corner in your short dress, all dolled up for a fancy dinner. You had gotten a few wolf-whistles already, and a car even honked.

Finally, a very expensive looking car stopped for you. As you were walking, you looked to your left to wave to the nice driver as a thank you. You nearly stopped dead in your track. The driver was a fine ass man. He was handsome and he looked a lot older than you, which clearly shouldn’t have that much of an effect on you. He lowered his gaze to get a good look at you, and he gave you an appreciative nod. Maybe your had pre-drink a little too hard, because you blew him a kiss as you finally crossed the street. You smiled to yourself as you entered the restaurant. This small interaction definitely put you in a good mood.

This dinner was starting to get more and more fun. People were now leaving to go to the dancefloor, and you made your way to the bar to get a drink, just to let loose a little. You accidentally bumped into a wall, which was actually a very sturdy man.

“Oh, excuse me sir!” The man turned around. Holy shit. It was the attractive man for earlier, at the crosswalk.

“Don’t apologize, princesa.” He looked so much hotter now that he was close to you. He had to be at least 15 years older than you, which was a nice bonus.

“It’s you!” was all you managed to reply. He smiled at you. The driver from earlier had an attractive face, and his suit made him look dashing.

“It’s me? Were you expecting me?” He flashed a cocky grin. This man was handsome, and he knew it. You blushed.

“You’re the guy who let me cross the street earlier! Thank you so much for being a gentleman.” You batted your eyelashes, going full-on flirty. This man was way too fine for you to resist the temptation.

He leaned in to whisper in your ear. “I only stop for pretty girls, princesa. But when they get to close, I stop being a gentleman.” You shivered. Goddamn. This was a thousand times better than your ex’s poor attempt at foreplay.

You managed to keep your cool, even though you were starting to get hot all over. “It’s okay, gentlemen are overrated anyway.” You put your hand on his arm. He stared at your eyes for a few seconds, clearly in a fight with himself.

“How kind of you to entertain an old man like me, princesa. Let me buy you a drink as a thank you.” His words made your heart drop in your chest. Did he really think you weren’t attracted to him?

“I assure you, sir, that you’re the one doing me a favour. Being here with a man as attractive as you, talking and laughing is doing wonders for my ego.” It was you turn to whisper in his ear: “Talking with you is also great for my daddy issues. Imagine what sleeping together could do to me, huh? It would be better than therapy.” He flushed. Okay, was this a new version of yourself? Were you finally able to talk seductively to a man you found attractive and not make a fool of yourself, for once?

“Princesa, this is all very flattering, but you’re way too young for me.” You didn’t even know his name, but you were already falling for this man who clearly needed to take a good look at himself in the mirror.

“It’s funny, I think I’m perfect for you, actually.” He laughed at that, and you flashed him your best smile. A connection was definitely forming, because it seemed as if the world stopped. There was only you, him, and something else that was just starting to blossom.

“Why don’t I buy you a drink and I let you go after, huh?” Feeling bold, you put your hand on his cheek.

“Oh baby, you’re never going to want to let me go.” He chuckled and put his hand on the small of your back to lead you to the bar.

(He in fact never let you, and he even put a ring on it to make sure you stay. But you didn’t know that at the time.)

“Tell me, princesa, what’s your drink of choice?” Fernando asked you. People around you were staring at the pair you were forming. Was this guy famous or something?

“I like an Amaretto sour!” He ordered one as well as a whiskey for himself. He paid, and you kissed his cheek as a thank you, letting your lips linger to the corner of his mouth.

“Interesting choice, hermosa. You seem so sweet, not sour at all.” You took a sip of your cocktail, and his eyes did not leave your lips for a second. “Don’t worry, handsome. I can still be very sweet. I just need to balance that sweetness.” You winked at him. This time, it was your turn to stare as he drank his whiskey. He was throwing his head back a little, and it made your imagination run wild with fantasies. You wanted to lock your arms behind his strong neck, and maybe leave a few hickeys there, too.

He laughed. “I like you, princesa. It’s scary because I don’t know anything about you.” His gaze lingered on your body, trying to gather information on you. The only thing he knew for sure was that you were the most stunning woman he had ever seen. And also, the youngest woman he had flirted with in a long, long time.

You felt butterflies all over your stomach when he mentioned liking you. This man was doing something to you. You answered: “Don’t be scared, lover boy. I feel the same, and I don’t even know your name. And I need to know so I can scream it later, when you take me in your bed.” You let your hand run all over his arm.

He looked up at the ceiling and started praying quietly. “Dios mio, hermosa.” He seemed to have trouble breathing. “You were right, I don’t know how I’m going to let you go.”

“How about you start you start by telling me your name, huh?” You squeezed his hand in yours and you gave him a reassuring smile.

“Okay. My name is Fernando Alonso. What’s yours, princesa?” Even his name was sexy. Alonso? That rung a bell. Didn’t that Charli xcx song mention that name?

“Fernando. Fernando. Fernando,” you repeated, liking the way his name rolled of your tongue. Apparently, he liked it too, a little too much. His eyes were full of desire.

“Stop that. It sounds too good. Tell me yours.” His knuckles were white. It was fun to see how much power you had over this near stranger.

“I won’t tell you, Fernando, because I’m afraid you’ll stop calling me princesa. I happen to like the nickname very much, Fernando,” you replied, making sure to insist on every syllable in his name. He raised an eyebrow, and he grabbed your arm and held it tight.

“I see what you’re doing, little girl. But this isn’t a game anymore” He put his hand around your waist and pulled you close. “I understand now why you’re attracted to me. You need someone older, someone to guide you. I could help you with that.” You felt heat rise everywhere in your body, his dominant words and his touch making your toes curl in your high heels. You had never felt his lips on yours, yet you were craving them. This man was driving you crazy, and nothing not PG rated had happened… yet.

With difficulties, you replied: “Then do it, please. You can do anything you want to do to me.” It was like something switched in his brain. All the restraint he had left his body. Fernando grabbed your arm and lead you all the way to a darkened corner. You were immediately against the wall, and his lips crashed against yours. You didn’t care that this was in public, and that this man was getting stares everywhere he went. Right now, the attraction between you two was the only thing on your mind.

Your fingers were twirling his hair to get a better grip on him. He put your leg around his waist, and you arched your back against him. You felt a bulge against your thigh, and that sent heat to your core. Were you really busy making out in public with a hot older man? If this was a dream, it was a damn good one, and you didn’t want to wake up.

“I’m going to take care of you, princesa.” Your moans replaced words. “Such a good girl, responding to my touch.” You nodded, and he wiped the lipstick off your swollen lips. Your legs were already shaking. You unbuttoned the first few buttons of his dress shirt, then pulled him by the collar.

“Fernando, please. I need you so bad, that I don’t even care if you take me right here, right now.” You had never wanted anyone else so badly. There was something special between you two, because otherwise you would have never felt so strongly about someone you just met. You started to leave little love bites all over his neck and jaw, practically begging him to fuck you.

He grunted at your words. “I would love to have you in front of everyone, but I don’t like to share. But I can’t wait, either.” You shivered. You didn’t know you had a thing for exhibitionism. He started to palm your body, and it felt like your skin was on fire every time he touched it. Fernando bit the strap of your dress and pulled it aside with his teeth to suck on that spot.

Thinking was hard. Replying was even harder. “Then fuck me in your car, where it all started.” He stopped what he was doing to immediately lead you out of the room. “That’s a great idea, princesa. Such a smart girl. I’m going to be very good to you. Keep it up.” You practically glowed at his praise. You felt special, because everyone was looking at the famous driver escaping the party with a pretty girl on his arm. Your dishevel hair was a pretty good clue as to what you were doing.

“Are you famous or something?” you asked.

He walked faster. “Don’t worry about it, hermosa.” A secretive man. Umm. He grabbed his keys from the valet, not bothering to get him to bring up his car.

Fernando was practically running in the parking lot to get to his Aston Martin, and you were following him, laughing. It was a very romantic moment. Somehow, it felt natural, casual even. There was a familiarity with Fernando that you had never observed with anyone else before. Your little walk was sometimes interrupted by him stopping in his tracks to stun you with kisses.

Finally, you got to his car. “Oh god. This is it. This is where I first saw you, and where I first noticed you were hot as fuck.” He laughed and pushed you against the hood.

“Don’t worry, princesa. I noticed you too. I saw how beautiful you were. I’m glad that I stopped for you, but I’m also mad, because every other car had to stop, and they all had the time to admire you while you crossed the street. I want to keep you for myself.” Fernando kissed the spot on your shoulder where the strap had fallen.

“Are you this possessive of every woman you just met?” You felt like the siren statues on ship, except that you were on a very expensive car. Just like a mermaid, you had lured him. Just like a sailor, you were drunk, but it wasn’t the alcohol that made you lose all your senses, it was him.

He chuckled and his large hands grabbed your waist. “Just with beautiful ones.” A wave of jealousy suddenly hit you. Had he done this before?

Fernando moved his attention to your neck, on which he left a trail of kisses and hickeys all the way to your jawline. He really was a possessive man, marking you as his. You balanced yourself on the hood of the car because you weren’t sure if your legs would be able to hold you any longer.

“I hope I’m the most beautiful of them all, then.” It was your turn to get possessive, which was crazy because three hours ago, you had never seen the man in question. You wrapped one leg around his waist to pull him forward. You felt his bulge, but there was too much fabric between you two, and you desperately rubbed yourself on him to try and get some friction to ease the heat between your legs. Fernando held your chin in his hands and put his thumb on your lower lip, forcing you to look at him.

“Of course you are. No one compares to you, princesa.” Oh, his words were too good, and you started to suck on his thumb.

“You’re too nice. Let me get you a treat, in exchange. Give me your jacket.” Confused, Fernando took of his suit jacket and gave it to you. With the jacket in your hand, you switched sides so he was the one resting against the hood.

You felt the fabric between your thumbs and winced when you saw that it was high quality. “I hope it wasn’t too expensive, because it might be ruined after this.” You put the jacket on the ground, and you went down on your knees.

“Dios mio, hermosa. Are you really going to do this here, outside?” You looked up at him and smirked. “Are you shy? Afraid of moaning too loudly, of everybody hearing you screaming?” You palmed him over the fabric of his pants and unzipped them.

In response, he pulled your hair and brought your head closer to his bulge. “Careful. You asked for it.” He removed his dick from his pants, and you started to suck on it.

Goddamn. You had enough material to suck on for days. You used your hands for the base, and you took as much as you could in your mouth. Fernando gripped your hair to push you forward. He was right, you had asked for it. Tears were stinging your eyes, but you didn’t mind them at all. The only thing you were focused on were his words of praise.

“You’re doing so good, princesa.” You heard a car door closing somewhere in the parking lot. You gasped and stopped what you were doing. “Don’t worry about it, hermosa. Keep it up, you’re doing so well.” He tilted your head, and you continued sucking on his length, his praise only making you ache more to please him.

When he felt he was about to come, he pushed your head back, but you returned to your original position and swallowed every last drop, your hand going back and forth for good measure.

Still on your knees, you looked up at him and licked your lips: “Did I do good?” Fernando put his hand under your chin. “You were perfect, princesa.” He helped you get up, giving your ass a small slap when you bent to pick up his jacket. You really hoped there were no cameras in the parking lot, but you kind of wish there were at the same time. The thought of everyone seeing you sucking his dick made you feel something down there. It was the kind of video you would like to watch again and again.

“Now it’s my turn to give you something, sweet girl.” Fernando spun you so your back was once again against the hood of the Aston Martin. His lips were on yours in an instant, and his hands were busy palming up your whole body, giving special attention to your breasts. He pinched your hard nipples that were showing up underneath the fabric of your dress between two fingers. You were moaning so fucking loud; it was like you were paid to do it.

“Shhh, we don’t want to get caught,” Fernando said, placing one hand over your mouth. Your plea and your cries were muttered, but if they weren’t, the whole neighborhood would have heard you begging the hot Spaniard to please get inside of you. Even though this man was a near stranger, you two understood each other perfectly, it was like you were in synch. “Now, princesa. Do you want to do this right here, or inside the car?”

You didn’t hesitate for a second: “Here. I can’t wait. Please, please, please, Fernando. You have to get inside of me.” He grunted at your eagerness, then took both of your arms and raised them over your head to pin them on the hood, near the windshield. You were on display on the hood, a dessert for him to enjoy, a sweet treat for him to devour.

“You want this so badly, little girl. After what you did for me, it’s only fair that I give back to you.” Fernando went down to your jaw and left a trail of kisses all the way to your cleavage, where he pushed aside the fabric of your dress to give you hickeys in the valley between your breasts. You wished you were in front of a mirror to get a better view of him savouring you.

His hands were busy lifting the hem of your dress and drawing circles higher and higher each time on your thighs. When you felt his fingers through the thin fabric of your underwear, you let out a moan that was good enough for a porn movie. You were holding on to the hood for dear life when he put one finger inside of you, then two.

“Oh my god, Fernando, oh my god!” you nearly shouted, panting. You must have done something good recently because you had never experienced anything as good before.

“If you keep it up, princesa, the whole fucking parking lot will hear you. So be a good girl and keep quiet.” Anything for you, hot stranger.

“I just need to have your dick in me so bad. I saw how big it was, and I need you to fill me up.” He shut you up with a kissing frenzy that left your lips swollen and your mind fuzzy.

“Who am I to refuse anything to such an angel?” He parted your legs and removed your underwear, letting it fall on the ground. Somewhere in his pocket, he found a condom and rolled it on.

Just the tip was enough to make your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Oh god. I don’t think it’s going to fit!” He laughed, but you heard him let out pained noises. You had just given him a massive ego boost. Slowly, inches by inches, he managed to make it fit.

You wanted to scream at each thrust, but he always kept you quiet with a kiss or his hand over your mouth. In the back of your mind, you were thinking about the huge risk you were taking, fucking a stranger in a public place and all, but all you could focus about was the way he felt inside of you. You were gripping hard on his shoulders and on the car to stay standing up, because your legs were oh so very weak.

“That’s it, take it all in, princesa. You’re so perfect, all put on display for me. Thank god I let you cross the street earlier.” He caressed your hair and whispered words of praise in your ear that you would think about every time you used your vibrator for at least the next 10 years.

You were about to give in to your orgasm. He had found the perfect pace for you. In fact, everything he did was perfect for you. It was sad to think you would never feel anything this good ever again.

When you came undone, your legs started to shake uncontrollably, and you slipped of the hood. Fernando held you in place as he did a few other sloppy thrusts as he was himself finishing.

You both stood there, panting, appreciating the beauty of what you just did.

"I think I know why you're famous. You must be a pornstar, because you sure fuck like one." He chuckled and his lips lightly brushed your bare shoulder. "Don't be silly, hermosa. I'm not in this business. But I do ride for a living." Ok, that just left you more confused. Fernando softly kissed you.

“Now, princesa, do you think you could give me your name?”