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streetlamp-amber · 3 months ago

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can we just stay in bed? (18+)

bruce wayne x femwife!reader

word count: 2.8k | divider by @cafekitsune | requests are open!

CW: smut (MDNI), p in v sex, oral (fem receiving), soft sex NOTES: i usually don’t write soft smut like this so i don’t really know if i’m 100% satisfied with this or not but i still wanted to share, let me know your thoughts :)

The joyful singing of the birds in the forest surrounding Wayne Manor could be heard from miles away as the sun was rising over the treetops, marking the beginning of a new day in Gotham. A lone ray of sunshine made its way through the gap between the two curtains hung over the window of you and Bruce's bedroom, illuminating the darkness with a soft golden glow.

Today was Saturday, meaning you didn't have work waiting for you or school to drive Dick and Jason to. The only plan on the schedule this morning was to sleep in, even for Alfred.

But your husband had other plans.

Bruce woke up on his own, his body was now used to being up early to make sure the boys had completed all of their homework before dropping them off at school. He was laying on his back with your head nestled in the crook of his neck, your hot breath fanning over his skin at a gentle rhythm while your arm and leg were hooked around him, keeping your body flushed against his. A grateful, satisfied smile formed on Bruce’s lips as he hugged you closer to him and pressed a kiss on the top of your head. He loved waking up with you in his arms, it was his favourite part of the day – when all his worries about Gotham were still dormant in the back of his mind, when he could bask in the peacefulness of the morning with your steady breathing reminding him how lucky he was that you were so much of a hothead, you had him pull over on the side of the road to reprimand his reckless driving when he almost rear ended your car. He remembered that day like it was yesterday, because your anger and your indifference to his celebrity status had already caught his heart right then and there, the fact that you were breathtakingly beautiful was only a plus. Six years had passed since then and Bruce had tried his best to remain on your good side in that time, but it happened sometimes that you let out your anger on him – like when he let Dick patrol with him for the first time. He found that he was still as captivated and enamoured with you as he was when the two of you first met, you’re just so hot when you’re angry, he can’t help it.

Overcome with the love he held for you, Bruce started peppering soft, barely-there kisses on your cheek, your nose, your jaw and your neck, moving you to lay on your back as he did so for him to have better access to your skin. His gentle touches pulled you out of your slumber and you stretched out your limbs, your husband never relenting with his affections.

“Good morning, my love,” Bruce whispered in between kisses on your throat.

You giggled, the softness of his lips tickling you. “Good morning,” you replied, wrapping your arms around his neck while his held you tight under your back. You turned your head to glance at the digital clock on your bedside table, noticing the time displayed in red light. “Isn’t it too early to be awake on a Saturday morning?”

“What time is it?” Bruce asked as he comfortably laid on you, his face now resting in the crook of your neck.

“Ten past seven,” you answered, your hands finding their way to your husband’s hair. Your fingers threaded through his soft waves and you felt him hum in satisfaction against you.

“I’m not sleepy anymore,” he weakly argued, eyes closing as your scent comforted him.

“Bruce, I can literally feel your breathing slowing down like it does when you fall asleep,” you chuckled.

“Then we should do something to stay awake and enjoy these minutes of peace we have that are oh so rare,” Bruce suggested with an impish tone.

“Mhm,” you hummed in agreement, “we haven't made blueberry waffles in quite some time.”

Bruce rolled his eyes and stood up above you, trapping you under his body with his elbows resting on both sides of your head. “Can we just stay in bed?” He asked, his crooked grin on his lips as he leaned down, brushing the tip of your nose with his.

“And do what?” You feigned innocence, but your husband knew you too well – he had known you for more than six years after all, he liked to think he knew you more than he knew himself – and the mischievousness in your eyes didn't go past him.

“I have a few ideas in mind,” Bruce said before claiming your lips with his. You breathed a sigh of relief that he absorbed and he placed himself in between your legs.

He stood up after a minute for the both of you to get some air and teasingly tugged at the hem of your shirt (which really was one of his old Princeton shirts from his university days). “I think it's not fair I’m the only one who's bare chest,” he said, raising the shirt just above your bellybutton.

“I think you make a compelling argument, Mr. Wayne,” you playfully agreed then removed said shirt, throwing it on the floor.

Bruce didn’t waste any second, immediately peppering your chest with kisses the moment your skin was freed from your clothes. You relaxed into your pillow, enjoying the attention your husband was giving to every inch of your body. He took his time to savour your taste and you let him. There was no rushing this morning, only the two of you in your bubble of love where time and the outside world didn’t exist.

He nipped his teeth all over your chest, leaving soft bite marks in his trail, and sucked on your nipples, his hand massaging your boob his mouth wasn’t currently attached to.

“Bruce…” You mewled after he spent five minutes on each of your breasts, only now beginning his slow descent down your stomach. Ten minutes of working you up had you now very impatient and wanting for more.

“Patience, my love,” Bruce said against your skin, getting closer to where you needed him most. “We’re taking it slow this morning, we’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Mmm, I know of two certain boys who will be knocking at our door in less than an hour to see if you’re awake so you can watch the morning cartoons with them,” you argued, raising up your hips when he started leaving kisses on the inside of your right thigh.

“That won’t be a problem,” your husband reassured you before claiming your clit in his mouth, making you squeal in surprise. “Good thing I had the walls of our bedroom soundproofed,” he paused his sucking on your bundle of nerves to tease you with a grin on his shiny lips.

You glared at him, unamused, which made him chuckle at your cute face and he quickly kissed your thigh before going back to his previous task. He lapped the slick in between your folds like a man who had spent fourteen days in the desert and was drinking water for the first time. His tongue teased your entrance before diving in, grunting in pleasure when your hips bucked up closer to him, making his nose brush against your clit. Bruce could never get tired of you, of your taste, of the sounds you made because of him. It spurred him on and for the time being, his only purpose in life was to satisfy you.

He couldn’t even begin to explain the control you had over him, the way you guided him through this life like a lighthouse in a storm. He was putty in your hands, has been ever since the two of you met, and he knew very well how lost he would be without you. Yeah, he would be financially secured thanks to his family, but in every other aspect of his life, even as Batman, he wouldn’t be who he was today without you. And Bruce, who had never really been good at vocally expressing his feelings, would let you know how thankful he was to have you in his life the way he knew best: by pleasuring you to completion like no other person ever has before because no one has taken the time to learn every single reaction of your body like he had.

“Bruce…” you whined as your hand tugged at his hair. You needed more, you needed more than just his tongue inside of you so you pulled him up by the head, bringing him to your level, and attached your lips to his, tasting yourself on him, while your legs wound around his waist. You felt his hard cock brushing against your center through the fabric of his boxers and jolted at the slight pressure applied on your clitoris.

The two of you slowly and messily made out, Bruce’s right hand holding your cheek and his left one clutching onto your hip. Your hands had found their way to the waistband of his boxers, trying to pull them down to get what you wanted. Bruce helped you, his left hand leaving your hip to remove the only item of clothing still on, his mouth never detaching from yours as he did so.

Once fully nude, Bruce retracted from you, standing on his knees before dipping his fingers between your folds to gather some of your wetness and rub it over his dick. You watched him with anticipation, the sight before you something you could never get tired of. Your husband was straight out of a dream and, still to this day, you’d pinch yourself sometimes to make sure you were awake, that this was your life.

That somehow, Bruce Wayne fell in love with you.

But he was also so different from how he presented himself to the media, to the public, that sometimes you forgot you married the Bruce Wayne, heir to the powerful Wayne family, prince of Gotham. To you, he was just your silly husband who was incredibly hot and put everybody else before him.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Bruce brushed the tip of his cock against the lips of your pussy. “I hope I’m not too much of a bore, darling,” he said, a teasing undertone lacing his words.

“No, just admiring the view and how lucky I am that my husband is so damn hot,” you replied playfully though there were no lies to your answer.

“Clearly you haven’t looked at yourself in the mirror lately babe because I’m the lucky one,” Bruce told you, his eyes confidently holding yours to show how truthful he was. He lined himself with your entrance, his stare never leaving your face so that he could drink in your expressions when he sheathed himself to the hilt inside you.

The two of you groaned in pleasure and Bruce took a moment to bask in your warmth, his eyes roaming all over you.

“Especially when you look so goddamn gorgeous with my cock inside you,” he added onto his previous comment, making you roll your eyes at the machoness of his words.

“Shut up and start moving already,” you chuckled.

“As you wish, my darling,” he leaned down to kiss you again and started rolling his hips to a slow, steady pace.

You wrapped your legs around his waist again while your hands found their place at his nape, scratching his scalp and tugging his hair, making him moan in your mouth. Your tongues danced to the same rhythm as Bruce’s thrusts, the both of you drowning in the feeling of the other.

Sex with Bruce was usually more rapid, more frantic, more bruising, more fiery, and you loved it. You loved how he could make you forget about the gala happening right down the hallway and the handprints he’d unconsciously leave on your hips from his grip. But you also loved when sex with Bruce was languid with no hurry. When one made you forget everything, the other basked you in love and made you feel like you were in a dream.

Bruce’s mouth left yours to trail down your cheek, then your jaw, until it found its place in the crook of your neck. He deposited open mouthed kisses all over your skin, licking it and leaving small nips on it. He easily found the pulse point behind your ear and, knowing you could easily hide that spot, started sucking on it and doubled the pleasure building inside you.

It made your breath hitch and your nails dig in his back muscles, leaving small red crescents on his skin. You felt him smile against your skin, his pride always swelled up to the reactions he was able to pull out of you.

“Mph, you feel so good darling,” Bruce groaned in your ear and kissed it. “You always do.”

“And you make me feel so good baby,” you answered, squeezing your walls around him as you said so.

Bruce’s head appeared in your eyeline again, his famous grin on his lips as his eyes roamed over your face, full of love. “I love you,” he told you.

You were about to say ‘I love you’ back but he didn’t let you, claiming your mouth with his instead to drag you in another make out session. He changed the angle of his hips at the same time and the tip of his dick brushed your G-spot, making you mewl. Bruce’s left hand fell down to the back of your right thigh, gripping it tight as he held it a little higher. It allowed him to go about one more inch further, said spot now being hit with every thrust.

“Oh God, yes,” you freed your mouth from his as your head fell back, your eyes squeezing shut due to the pleasure gradually overtaking your senses.

“Look at me, darling,” Bruce asked you and you obeyed, struggling to keep your eyes open as the two of you held eye contact. “Are you close?”

He knew you were, he knew your body like the back of his hand, but he still asked you the question just to be sure.

You couldn’t answer him. Your mouth was in a permanent ‘o’ shape as breathy moans escaped your lips with every thrust and you were unable to focus for more than one second on how to speak. So you nodded your head yes.

Bruce’s hand that held your thigh let it go to instead dip between your legs, easily finding your clit and rubbing it in circles with just the right amount of pressure. He proudly watched as you unravelled beneath him, your orgasm hitting you with full force. As he helped you ride it out, he reached his own climax and fell over you, but still made sure to not put his entire weight on you, as the two of you caught your breath.

Your husband removed himself from inside you and rolled over to lay next to you on his side so he could face you. “I love you,” he said again, kissing your temple covered with a sheen of sweat.

You turned to face him, your hand reaching to hold his cheek as you replied, “I love you”. You kissed him on the lips, this time short and sweet, and Bruce laid on his back so you could snuggle up against him with your head on his chest.

“You know, we should wash up before the boys come knocking on our door,” you said after a few minutes of peace.

“Can we just stay in bed for another minute?” Bruce childishly whined, his fingers brushing up and down your bare bicep.

“You're such a big baby,” you teased him, chuckling.

“Well sorry I’m a little spent from our early morning activity,” he lightheartedly argued.

“Alright, I’ll make you a deal,” you said, rising on your elbows to look over him. “I’m going to the bathroom and I’ll bring back with me a wet cloth for you to wash yourself and then we can cuddle and maybe go back to sleep until Dick and Jason crash through the door to drag you downstairs and watch cartoons. Sounds like a deal?”

“Sounds like a really good deal to me,” Bruce answered, bringing you down to peck your lips before he rested his hands behind his head. “You should come down to the tower next time we’re looking to make a deal with another company.”

“Nah, I’m perfectly fine with leaving all that work to you,” you pecked his lips once again and stood up from the bed, not bothering to cover yourself up. “I’ll be right back,” you said behind your shoulder as you walked towards the bathroom connected to your room.

Bruce didn’t hear you, too preoccupied with staring at your ass to focus on anything else. God, I’m the luckiest man in all of Gotham, he thought to himself before you disappeared through the door frame.

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lis-likes-fics · 5 months ago

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The Kinder Beast

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader Word Count: 13.3k words Warnings: NSFW, attempted sexual assault, groping, oral (m and f!receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, technically coercion, thus dub!con, virginity loss, p in v sex, creampie... A/N: I wrote like at least half of this in one night and then stopped to sleep and ruined my streak. This was supposed to be done like three days ago but I had a bit of a menty b for like...a full day and that didn't happen. Anyway, enjoy me (finally) getting around to writing for Aemond. Thanks! <3

He was always watching you.

Your skin crawled with the feeling of his gaze burning holes into your flesh. Always on you, always watching, daring to get you alone. You could never escape him.

You feel it at dinner as you pour cups of wine, one cup far more than the others. You feel it after dinner while you help the other servants to clean the table. Sometimes it is almost as though you can feel more than one gaze.

It haunts you.

Even as you're alone in the servants’ chambers where all the servants of the royal family slept after everyone has found sleep, you feel it. It's a horrifying thing, to feel so vulnerable so often.

You keep your head down at dinner, holding a pitcher of wine steady in your grasp and hoping against all hope that he would forget you were there. But the gods seemed to laugh at you and your naïve hopes.

“Aye,” he calls, raising his cup. “Serving girl.”

You lay your eyes on Prince Aegon, moving quickly as you cover the distance between you. Every inch demolished is an ounce of your bravery pouring down a drain until you are standing right by him.

You have to be careful tipping the pitcher, lest you spill the expensive drink all over his clothes, a hundred times more expensive than the wine. Though your fingers grip it tight and your palms shake the metal, you successfully manage your task with no issue.

It's as you're fixing the pitcher from its tilt when a greedy hand gropes the cheek of your ass. Your whole body jumps and you close your eyes, pretending all is well and that you are simply imagining the whole ordeal. You breathe in, straightening up and wishing he would let you go. Again, the gods seem to defy your every hope as Prince Aegon's hand begins to discreetly rub.

“Girl.”

Your gaze shoots across the table to an icy one unlike the greed in his brother's eyes. He watches you, his eye dark and his posture so full of poise and elegance—contrasting with Prince Aegon's jaded, dulled position beside you.

Prince Aemond raises his cup toward you, inclining his head back as he sends a gentler order. “More wine, please.”

You nod, keeping your gaze to the ground as you were meant to, and you make your way to his side. Prince Aegon's hand is forced to let go of you, and a weight is lifted off your shoulders—even if the heat of his hungry gaze bore holes into the back of your head that no amount of food or wine would satiate.

Prince Aemond sets his cup down, and you fill it. And when you've finished, he nods softly. “Thank you.”

For a split moment, your eyes meet. Prince Aemond's gaze is much more considerate than his brother's, but it is no less intense. His stare is dark, dangerous. He watches you, and he doesn't stop watching. Just as Prince Aegon never halts his scrutiny, neither does his brother's—at least when you're in the room. Prince Aemond, if nothing else, is kind enough not to stare when he's not in the room.

Prince Aegon never looks away.

You feel like a bird, a bird locked in a cage to be forced to sing, to be looked at and spectated until they lose interest and snap your neck to replace it with something better, something newer and prettier than a common songbird.

Sometimes you wish they would just go on and be done with it.

“You're welcome, my prince.” Your voice is small, a whisper. Though he seems kinder, the both of them scare you to death…one considerably more than the other.

Even now, your hands tremble, the clinking of the cups on the tray you carry echoing through the hollow walls. You take a steadying breath, willing your heart to calm as you assure yourself that you'll be fine.

The door you stand before is large, imposing. The room behind it is suffocating, it's dark and full of dangers that make you want to run. The idea of crossing this threshold into a world beholding so much danger and threat leaves you shaking. But you can't leave. How you wish you could leave…

You knock carefully to announce your presence before you push open the doors and hope for the best.

You take a step inside, glancing around anxiously. “My prince?” you call out as steadily as you can. Your body grows cold at the sight of him, lounging back in a chair with a cup in his hand.

Prince Aegon smiles devilishly at you, his eyes slightly sunken into his face, marked by exhaustion and drunkenness. “Ah,” he says, gesturing toward you with a coarse hand as you continue to walk further inside, keeping your head down. “She's brought my tea.”

The sound of a second voice washes over you in a sea of relief, and you briefly thank the gods for granting such rare mercy upon you. “It's a shame it shall go to waste,” he says. When you glance his way, the sight of Prince Aemond fills your gaze. His eye watches you as he sits back, and his gaze never wavers. “You and I both know you prefer your wines and ales.”

You walk to the table separating the brothers, setting the tray down. Just as you do, Prince Aegon rises to his feet, his cup in one hand as he walks over. You're nearly shaking, staring at the floor as you struggle to find your voice the closer he gets.

You have to clear your voice in order to speak. “Is- Is there anything else you need…my prince?”

He smiles, coming to stand at your side, his face so close to your cheek. You can hear the way he smells you, his sigh blowing against your shoulder. “Yes, there may be something you can help with…” You shudder, staring at the floor and refusing to look his way.

Without turning away from you, the prince speaks. “Dear brother, would you mind giving us some privacy?”

You close your eyes, willing the tears away as you try not to appear weaker than you already do. You flinch when you feel his knuckle brush your cheek.

Prince Aemond hums, clasping his hands in his lap. “But I'm quite comfortable here,” he says matter-of-factly.

You glance up at him, a glimmer of hope in your eyes as you look upon him. He's got the smallest grin on his face, but he doesn't even look at you. He watches his brother as his annoyed glare darts his way.

Prince Aegon looks like he'll fight his brother. His hand drops from your cheek. The breath you let out is silent. “Well, there are plenty of comfortable places in this castle, Aemond. Perhaps you might find yourself there instead.”

He shrugs. “But watch how well my boots fit perfectly when I place them here.” He lifts his feet, one after the other, to rest on the table near the tea tray. Again, he grins at his brother.

“Well, boots belong on the floor.”

“A shame for my feet, really. They do so enjoy a rest every once in a while.”

Prince Aegon's frustration is clear. He rolls his eyes and looks at you, a glimmer in his eyes that frightens you. He lowers his voice to a murmur. “Then perhaps you and I can go somewhere a little more private to…speak.”

You open your mouth to say something—you don't know what, likely just incoherent stammers of little value. Prince Aemond, it seems, is your ultimate savior.

“Unfortunately,” he interrupts, “that is not possible either. You see, she is busy.”

You both look at him to elaborate. Prince Aegon glances around the messy room and shakes his head. “I don't see a job needing tending to.”

You could name a few, but you really just want to leave.

Prince Aemond is unfazed. “I do,” he counters. He looks at you. His gaze betrays no sentiment, simply focus and a bit of amusement at frustrating his brother. “Girl, you are to take His Highness’ boots over there and shine them until they are brighter than the sun.” He tilts his head. “We can't have the prince walking around with dirty boots… Do you understand?”

You nod quickly, standing a little straighter. “Yes, my prince.”

He nods. “And they are especially disgusting, you might acquire some help while you do.”

You don't know why he is helping you, but who are you to question him when he is being so kind?

“Yes, my prince.”

He turns away from you then, reaching forward to grab a cup of tea from the tray. As he stirs it, he hums. “Make haste then.”

You move quickly, nodding as you break away from Prince Aegon's presence. He huffs, rolling his eyes as he watches his brother. You snatch up the boots, stopping by the door as you leave the both of them, not daring to look either in the eye. “My prince… my prince.”

You flee, and the door closes loudly behind you as you do. Aegon turns to his brother, shaking his head as he moves to sit once more. “My boots are not disgusting.”

Aemond hums. “You haven't seen your boots.”

The sound of fire and laughter and music fills the air. It's dark out, so dark it would be hard to see without the giant bonfire raging at the center. It's the most fun you've had in a while. Queen Alicent released you and a few of the other servants from duty for the night to enjoy the festivities as gratitude for hard work.

“Come on! You're no fun when you do not join the dance!” Emalia urges, pulling lightly on your arm so you would come with her and the others.

You lean back on your heels, laughing as you shake your head and balance your cup in your hand. “No! I do not need to make a fool of myself in front of the whole dynasty by tripping over my feet and falling flat on my face, Emailia.”

She rolls her eyes. “Please! Nobody is watching you.”

You wish that had been true.

“Besides,” she smirks at you slyly. “You may attract a man's eye.”

“All the more reason not to go.” She groans, unimpressed by your insistence of remaining a total bore. You smile, letting her go. “Go dance. I am perfectly content to stand here and watch.”

She hums, giving up as she turns on her heel to leave. You laugh lightly to yourself. As you cradle your cup in your hand, you raise it to your lips for a drink.

You'd been alone for no more than a minute, watching people holding hands as they danced around the roaring flames, before you had, in fact, caught a man's eye.

“Don't you look pretty tonight?”

You fumble your cup as it falls to the ground, spilling its contents over the dirt. Chills rush down your spine, devouring every slip of comfort in your body and leaving you cold. You keep your eyes down, staring at the wine in your cup as you try to find your voice buried in your distress.

His voice comes from behind you, a dark hum haunting your being. You try to keep your voice level, but it's hard when your entire body feels like it's shaking. “Th-Thank you, my prince,” you croak, your voice as quiet as can be.

Prince Aegon stands so close, you feel his body brush yours. You try not to tremble, but it's a useless task. His eyes bore into the side of your face, and you feel the heat of his gaze devouring the rest of you.

“So pretty, I just want to…steal you away.” He steps closer, his lips right by your ear as he whispers in a low voice, “Would you like that? For me to steal you away from here?” You squeeze your eyes shut, attempting to remain calm. “We could do anything, just the two of us.”

You swallow thickly, plastering a wobbly smile on your face. “I'm sure it would be…a lovely opportunity my prince, but..” You open your eyes again and take the smallest step away, turning slowly toward him. He steps even closer, hardly a foot away now. “But, um, I have to stay here with my friends… They'll be missing me if I go.”

Foolishly hoping to the gods that they hear your plea, you're met with the sight of his dark gaze. Your breath hitches as you take a step back. He pursues, shrugging lightly as he tilts his head.

“Or I could order you,” he says. “If I say you must go, then they cannot argue. I am the prince, after all.” He smirks, lifting his hand to touch your cheek. You flinch, but it only makes him chuckle. “Would you like me to order you, pretty girl? To take that burden off your shoulders?”

The way he says it… “pretty girl”. It makes your skin crawl. You wish you'd just gone and danced, or never shown up at all.

Your mouth opens, but words are very hard to find as you struggle to speak. “I…”

You can't refuse him. You can't send him away and tell him that the thought of his hands on you makes you want to vomit. You could be punished, killed. There's no version of this where you come out safely.

His gaze burns into your skin. His hand raises to pinch your chin, and his thumb ghosts over your bottom lip. As you struggle to find an answer, to find a way out of this very dangerous situation, Aegon feels another gaze upon his own skin.

He turns his head, his eyes searching for the object of his sudden unease.

A frown overtakes his lips as his glare locks onto another. For a moment, he keeps staring. It's a silent battle of wits, a battle of will. He should be able to have whatever he wants. He's the fucking Targaryen prince, and what he wants is your bound-to-be-virgin cunt wrapped around his cock. He is owed whatever he desires.

But this icy glare is one he cannot withstand. With a huff, he drops his hand from your face. You hold your breath, glancing up carefully to see what has changed.

“But alas,” he mumbles. “It seems my mother is calling me.”

The shock is written all over your face, a mix of fear and surprise that has his desire for you growing in his belly. He smirks again, taking one last step into whatever space you had left as he takes your hand.

You purse your lips as he eyes bore into yours. Prince Aegon raises your knuckles to his face, slotting his nose over them as he inhales your sweet scent. You shudder as he presses his lips to the round bumps of your hand. You jump when he nips them.

His eyes peek up at you as he grins. “I will be seeing you.” He drops your hand.

You swallow thickly as he takes a couple steps back. Tentatively taking your skirts in your hands, you curtsy. “My prince.”

He hums, and then he's gone. You stare after him, letting out a relieved breath as you come back to your senses. You bend slowly, retrieving your cup from the ground as you try to catch your breath.

When you rise to your feet, your gaze is caught by that of the prince across the field from you. He flickers at the other side of the bonfire, his gaze just as hot and just as burning as the fire itself.

He stands there and stares at you a few seconds more. Then, just like his brother, he disappears into the night.

You're left standing there, frightened to the very base of your being.

Quite frankly, you despise the training grounds.

It's dirty and full of spectators eager to drink in the sight of sparring princes. It even rained earlier that night, so you are left to stand in the filthy mud, holding a tray of water in your hands and waiting for the imminent end of this session.

They always train so early. Sure, you would have been awake either way, but your sleepiness mixed with the anxiety of the princes (mostly Prince Aegon) is not a good mix.

He keeps looking at you.

Prince Aegon's eyes follow you when he's not on an active attack. You do your best to keep your eyes on the wine, hoping it would keep his gaze from you. But it's hard to do so when the lingering heat of his watchful eye burns you from out to in.

You can't tell if you're grateful or not for Prince Aemond's seriosity in his training. On one hand, his hard focus on his opponent means he's not watching you. But on the other…that means Prince Aegon is not too inclined to keep his eyes forward.

You feel your arms growing tired the longer you stand there. With a sigh, you turn toward a table behind you, setting the tray down to offer your arms reprieve. You linger for a moment, closing your eyes to breathe before switching out the two pitchers of water to seem busy.

When you turn again, you nearly drop the tray onto the ground. The smallest yelp erupts from your throat as you're met with Prince Aegon's dark stare.

“Forgive me, my prince,” you nearly stutter.

He hums, grinning lightly. “That's alright.”

You duck your head a little, balancing the tray in one hand and refilling his cup with the other. You pass it carefully to him.

“Many thanks.”

You give a short nod. “You're welcome, prince.”

He watches you over the top of his cup as he takes generous sips. He never looks away. It’s awful, being forced to see. You look away from his intense eyes, finding it increasingly difficult to do what he wants. But this works for him either way. He loves to see you cower…

Prince Aegon sets the cup back on the tray. Not anticipating the action, your weak grasp tilts and sends the tray askew. The cup tips off the side, and your eyes widen in panic as you watch it spill its contents all over the front of his gear.

A terrible gasp rips from your throat at the sight of it, Prince Aegon's gear drenched in water, his cup on the muddy ground, you standing there unable to figure out what to do other than grovel at his feet.

The words stumble uncontrollably from your lips, drenched in utter terror at his response. “Oh, gods! I am so sorry. That was an accident. I didn't mean to–!”

But Prince Aegon is not angry. In fact, he's amused. He chuckles to silence you. “Come now, pretty girl. No need for that.”

You stare up at him, your eyes clouded by unshed tears invoked by such sudden fear. He takes a step closer, in permanent violation of the space you have to your person. His voice is a low murmur when he speaks. “You and I can sort this out. Just the two of us… in my chambers… tonight.” He tilts his head. “What do you say?”

You freeze, staring wide-eyed at the prince as you struggle to find a way to get out of this. You can't refuse him, you can't. But he isn't going to let you go. How are you meant to shed this man from your life? He has implemented himself and ensured there was no way to escape him, not without force.

Your mouth drops open but no words come out. But, as it seems to be like clockwork, temporary salvation settles over you.

“My prince!”

You both turn your head, laying eyes on Ser Criston Cole as he holds onto Prince Aegon’s training sword. He offers it to him. “Leave the poor girl alone, and come fight your brother.”

Prince Aegon rolls his eyes, swatting a dismissive hand at his knight as he turns back to you. His smirk returns, if only for a moment. “Will I see you again?” he wonders.

“Prince Aegon!” He grunts. “Leisure is the death of men.”

“I’m coming!”

He looks back at you, setting his frustration to the side for just a moment. You’re always interrupted, there’s always something requiring attention. But not tonight. No, tonight…he would have what he wants.

He tears his gaze away to stalk back toward his knight and his brother. Ser Criston hands him his sword. Your eyes shift, and you find Prince Aemond…just as you always seem to do.

He watches you—just for a single second. A single second that always seems to last so much longer. He takes you in before blinking away, as though he’d never laid his eye on you to begin with.

You duck your head and try to forget the whole thing.

You duck your head and pray to the gods that Prince Aegon will forget the whole thing…

“Girl.”

You close your eyes as you stop walking, planting your feet in the middle of the dimly lit hall. You hold your breath as you turn, bowing your head and properly addressing the man with a curtsey, a basket of sheets in hand. “My prince.”

Prince Aegon’s eyes are nearly as dark as the night surrounding the castle. They always seem so…consuming. Consuming in a way that begs for breath in depleted lungs. Consuming in a way that cries out for an end to the constant burning of eternal fire. You stare at the floor.

He crosses the space between you before he speaks. “I didn’t see you in my chambers.” He stands right in front of you now, generous with the couple of feet he distances you with—though he does not have much of a choice with the way you hold the basket between you.

You had hoped you’d been sly with your avoidance the night before. After he was dressed for dinner, you made quick work of tidying his chambers before you went to attend with the other servants to watch over the small feast with the royals. When he returned to his rooms, there was nothing else for you to do… You had no other reason to return, so you did not.

You had hoped he’d missed it.

You clear your throat. “I’m sorry, my prince.”

“What kept you?” He steps forward, always stepping forward.

“My, um–” You struggle to come up with an answer quickly enough. “My-my errands. I was caught up with…with dinner.”

He tilts his head, not quite believing you as he continues his agonizingly slow advance. You find some solace, however, in his snail’s pace. It means every tiny little step you take away goes slightly unnoticed as you move to keep some distance between you and the prince.

“Well, dinner is over, and I require your assistance,” he insists. He raises his hands and takes the basket in his own hands. You try to keep your breath steady, but you’re hot with fear and anxiety. “I am your superior, am I not? You must obey me, and I say that you…” he takes your basket and drops it onto the ground without regard, walking farther past it, “...must come with me. We have a few wrongs we must right.”

When the cold feeling of the wall shoots up your spine, you’re frozen with fear. You nearly choke on your words, you struggle to even breathe correctly as you look around frantically for any sign of help. But it is so late, the castle is sleeping and any other servants awake at this time of night are preoccupied with their own tasks. Even if someone was awake, clouds cover every inch of the sky, and no one wishes to be bothered with the potential of rain in the open halls.

No one is going to help you.

“Forgive me, prince, but…” Your pulse is loud in your ear, you can hardly hear your words over it. You swallow thickly, speaking around your stutter, “I have… I have other duties.”

He’s getting frustrated now. He’s been denied you so many times now, too many times. You don’t expect him to display much patience anymore as he stands so close that your shoes touch and your arms are pinned to your chest. You can feel his breath on your face, thick with the permanent smell of wines and ales. His height over you is commanding, and you may just start crying before anything is done.

He speaks quietly, low. It’s a threat in the disguise of a reminder, and it hurts more than a slap to the face. “Your only duties, pretty girl, are to me.” He shakes his head gently. “I will not ask you again.”

His hands find your hips, and your whole body flinches at his touch. The smallest yelp drops from your mouth as you squeeze your eyes shut. You’re shaking. You don’t actually realize it—there’s too much happening at one time—but you’re shaking. It feeds Prince Aegon’s hunger.

You force your eyes open, force yourself to look him in the eye as you shake your head.

“I don’t want to.”

He tuts gently, shaking his head as a terrible grin takes his lips. He even chuckles, it’s the faintest sound but it’s a chuckle and it shakes your soul. “Such a pity,” he hums. He tilts his chin down and whispers. “You don’t have a choice.”

One of his hands raises to grasp your face, but you swat it away. Surprised by your protest, something flickers in his eyes, and you know you’ve made a mistake beyond hitting a prince. He tries again, faster this time, but you’re so full of adrenaline that you’re faster. You keep smacking his hands away, squirming vastly as you try to shed his hands from you. When he does not relent, for even a moment, pressing his hips into you just to pin you into the wall, you do the unspeakable.

You slap him. Your palm meets his cheek with a force that whips his head to the sound, and you pale as you watch his skin turn pink.

The most dangerous smirk crosses his lips. He finds great pleasure in your fight. It’s the first real fight you’ve put up since the beginning of his conquest. It’s exciting, it’s thrilling. His blood pumps at the prospect of a hunt.

He turns back to you slowly, watching you with eyes that have become so much darker. They’re like black tar, an oozing kind of look that melds into your skin and leaves you feeling like you’re going to die. Maybe you will.

His hands grab you so tightly that you can’t possibly move him away. You fight anyway, flailing your arms and legs and trying to call out for anyone to help. You know your sounds are echoing, you can hear your shouts bouncing off the walls and filling the night… But part of you knows that no one will come to help.

Even if they can hear you past the thick walls, no one will come to help you.

Because he’s the prince, and you are just a servant girl. What are you to keeping their lives?

Prince Aegon wrestles you to the ground and lays you on your back, despite your protests, despite your resistance. He forces you to the ground, takes your wrists in his hands, laughs when the tears spill. You argue for him to stop, to let you go, to leave you be. You hope and pray and beg for him to listen. You curse the gods for their cruelty—you curse the Mother for her lies.

He gathers your wrists to one hand, and you think you’ll be sick when his hand gropes your breast so roughly that it hurts. “I knew you would be fun, pretty girl.” He laughs, high off the thrill. “I’ve waited so long for this, it’s only fitting we make it last–”

A harsh grunt leaves his throat when your foot finds purchase at his leg. Using all the strength you have, you manage to land a kick. His hands loosen considerably, enough for you to yank yourself from his hold. Just to give yourself more time, you kick again. This time, you manage to find purchase at his side. A string of curses falls from his lips, but you don’t have time to listen to them.

As soon as you’re free, you stand to your feet and bolt down the hall. You don’t know if you’ve ever been faster, the way you speed through the corridors. Your heart thunders in your ears, your tears tickle your face, your breath scratches your throat. But you can hear him behind you.

It’s a stalking sound. That kind of sound that tells you he doesn’t waste strength trying to run after you. His pursuit is taunting, it’s haunting. It forces more sobs from you, and it makes it hard to see past the tears gathering in your eyes. You look behind yourself. It feels like he’s right there–

You run into something solid. Knocked to the ground, you grunt at the pain that blooms along your body at the fall. You open your eyes and look up to see what’s stopped your escape, and you feel a sudden wave of relief. It’s not a gaze that especially calms your nerves, but it’s enough to know that you might actually have a chance at safety.

“Prince Aemond!” you cry, moving to kneel before him as you duck your head. You stumble over your words, it’s so hard to speak past the fear, the pain in your throat, all of it. You do your best. “I-I’m sorry, you… Your brother, he’s chasing me and he-he’s trying to, to hurt me, and I–”

There’s no use in trying to speak coherently anymore. You break down into sobs, sobs full of broken rambles that are fueled by the emotions demolishing you. You look truly pathetic like this, you know you do—covered in tears, your lip wobbling, your chest heaving with desperate breaths.

Prince Aemond looks upon you, his face a mask of almost indifference. There’s a spark of something in his eyes that you can’t quite place. But, quite frankly, you don’t care. As long as he helps you. He’s been helping you all this time, surely he won’t turn his back now when you truly need him.

You don’t know what possesses you to grab his hand. You’re just glad he doesn’t seem upset when you do it. You hope he understands you when you beg, “Please don’t let him touch me, please!”

His taunting footsteps re-enter your mind as they come to a stop somewhere behind you. Your blood runs cold when you hear him.

“Brother.”

You startle, genuinely yelping when you scramble to your feet and rush to stand behind Prince Aemond, putting him between you and his brother and using him as your shield. To your sweet relief, the prince puts his hand out and holds your arm, keeping you behind him. Keeping you under his protection. You let out a shuddering sigh.

“Aegon,” he returns, his voice calm and measured. His gaze is unyielding, as it always is. You just hope that, as it always is, Prince Aegon is no match for it. “Are you tormenting this poor girl again?”

He laughs. “Tormenting? Heavens no. We’re just having a bit of fun,” his gaze shifts to you, “aren’t we?”

You press yourself more into Prince Aemond, hiding as best you can.

Prince Aegon can’t decide if he’s amused or annoyed. “And even if I was, the little thing put her hands on me.” He raises his brows. “These things can’t go unpunished.”

It’s silent for a moment as Prince Aemond contemplates something. He glances over his shoulder, not quite looking at you as he questions. “Is this true?”

You swallow thickly. You can’t lie. It’s the prince’s word against yours, and you did put your hands on him… If anyone finds out, you could—would be killed. Your voice wavers as you confess timidly. “Yes, my prince.”

Prince Aegon smiles. “You see? She admits it.” He takes a step forward. “Now, if you’ll excuse us.”

Terror grips you. “No–!”

“Step away, brother.”

He stops in his tracks, staring at his brother with a furrowed brow. Unimpressed by his jest, he gives an empty laugh. “Excuse me?”

Prince Aemond tilts his head, raising a brow. “I do not believe a stutter passed my lips.” His hand lands on the hilt of his blade, a warning. “I said step away.”

Prince Aegon’s lips curl in a sneer, but his eyes…his eyes hold a predatory gaze that make you feel like you’re already trapped in the beast’s maw. “She’s my servant girl. I can do as I please. Give her to me now.”

He remains unfazed. “I do not believe I will be doing that.”

“Get out of my fucking way, Aemond.” He advances, his eyes on you as he comes forward to take what is rightfully his. You begin to protest, scared sobs falling from your lips as you panic.

But Prince Aemond takes his own step forward, but his gaze is much harder, and his determination is much more dangerous. “Touch her and we shall both be half blind, brother.” His threat is level and true, and you feel yourself alighting with more fear at the sound of it. He tilts his head. “Now run along. I’m sure you’ve got a pillar to milk.”

Rage covers every inch of Prince Aegon’s face. He huffs as he shakes his head, moving to cover the distance. “You fucking–”

Everything seems to go completely still for a moment. The air is stagnant and all breath ceases when Prince Aemond raises his blade to his brother’s face, the sharpest end only inches from his blue eye.

But Prince Aemond remains unfazed. His gaze is piercing, his posture is strong. His voice is low and level.

“Do it.”

They stare at one another, another silent standoff. You’re still holding your breath.

Prince Aegon’s lips curl into a smirk. A chuckle slips past his lips as he takes a step back. He yields.

“Well played, brother.” He sucks on a tooth, turning his dark gaze to you as his eyes glitter with apparent amusement. You’d hoped you were turning out to be more trouble than you’re worth, but the only thing you’ve achieved tonight was sweetening the prize. “Don’t worry, pretty girl… I will be seeing you soon.”

He spares one last glance at his brother before turning on his heel and walking away. Prince Aemond relaxes a bit, letting his blade return to its holster as he sighs gently. When the other prince has fully retreated, he hums.

“Come with me.”

He turns and walks down the hall. It takes you a moment to catch up as the adrenaline begins, slowly, to fade, replacing itself with an immense amount of exhaustion. You turn and walk after him, wiping your face to try to rid yourself of the tears that had begun to dry.

You follow him down the winding corridors until you eventually end up on the familiar path of his bedchambers. When you arrive, he opens the doors without a word. It’s implied that you follow, so you do. He closes the doors behind you, and you slowly come to stand in the room, feeling so awkward here. It’s so late, surely you need to leave and try to retire for the night, put this whole thing behind you for a few hours.

Your voice is timid, your fingers hesitant as you rub at your face. “Are you sure I should be here?”

The prince walks past you, trailing to a table where a bowl of now-cold water and a cloth sit. “You can be wherever I say you can be,” he says dismissively. As he wets the cloth, he beckons you closer. You have to urge your legs to move, dragging yourself over to sit in the chair he is gesturing for you to take. You don’t look at him, anxiety still whispering in your bones.

“Are you hurt?” he asks as he tilts your chin up, beginning to carefully wipe away the tears that have covered your face.

It feels strange, but…nice. It’s nice to be taken care of. You’re too drained and too quieted to wonder why you’re being taken care of. You just want to calm down.

“No,” you mumble, sighing to calm your nerves. “Thank you.”

He continues to dab at your face. “Don’t thank me yet.”

You furrow your brows, looking up as you lock eyes. He’s…sort of pretty. You hadn’t really had the time or the mind to notice it before, but you don’t intend to make a habit of noticing. Once this night is over, you intend to forget it all.

“Beg pardon?” you wonder.

He stops what he’s doing, setting the cloth back in its bowl. Looking back at you, he tilts his head. His voice does not change. “You laid your hands on the prince.”

Just like that, the fear and anxiety return. You’re already tongue-tied as you try to defend yourself. “He was trying to hurt me–”

“It does not matter,” he says, as though it means nothing. And it does. He shrugs as he continues to watch you. “My brother has a reputation but he is the prince, and you are just a girl.” He hooks his knuckle under your chin, tilting your head to look up at him a little more. “Who do you think they will believe?”

Your breath picks up once more, a heavy thing in your chest that makes you feel like you may faint. You wet your lips, shaking your head. “It was an accident. I was scared, a-and I panicked. I–”

“It is not I who questions your words,” he hums. “It will be the public’s when they learn you tried to seduce the prince.”

Your heart pounds so heavily in your chest. You swear you can hear each thump against your ribs. “But I didn’t–” You pause at the look on his face. It is not him who questions your words. You swallow thickly, looking down at your hands clasped in your lap as you try to gather your thoughts. Your voice is so quiet when you speak again, weak with your defeat. “What am I to do?”

He seems pleased that you have begun to ask the right questions. He pulls away from you, removing his holster from around his waist to set his weapons down. “Even if he says nothing, you are still his servant, and I cannot be there at every turn to help you.” He looks at you once more, his eye unwavering. “One way or another, he will have his way with you… and no one will care when they hear your screams down the hall.”

You duck your head, fiddling with your hands as these terrible feelings eat away at you. But then he speaks again, carrying words that have you glued to his every sound. “There is a way, of course, that I can help you.”

You sigh. “I’ll do anything.”

The slightest smirk curves his lips. He walks back toward you, his steps so slow, so measured. Every step he takes fills you with a strange kind of dread. His voice is so soft, the opposite of the fear-inducing sound of Prince Aegon’s.

“My brother will care less about you if you are…” he raises his hand to the top latch of his garb, undoing it slowly, “...already sullied.”

Your eyes widen as you watch him unlatch each metal piece with a clink, clink clink. A shivering heat courses through your veins, the kind of heat that has your body covered in gooseflesh. A million thoughts rush within your mind, but you haven’t the slightest clue what any of them are saying.

Had he been any other boy from in King’s Landing—a peasant from Flea Bottom, a servant in the Red Keep, a merchant from Cobbler’s Square—you would have watched with bated breath, accepted his proposal with a shy grin, fingers shaking only with the anticipation of a night of pleasure. Had he been anyone else, you might have considered sharing the night, knowing and accepting that you’d likely have to take his hand to avoid the shallow slanders of society.

But he is not a merchant from Cobbler’s Square, or a servant in the Red Keep, and he most certainly is not a peasant from Flea Bottom. He is Prince Aemond Targaryen, the son of Queen Alicent and King Viserys I, the rider of Vaghar, the second largest dragon in the world.

You cannot do this and come out unburnt.

Your throat is dry as you try to shake your head. “I-I can’t.” You stumble over your words uselessly. “I’m— You’re— We–”

He hums. “I can just tell them that you attacked the prince.” Fear strikes your head like a chord. “Of course, you would lose a hand…if not your life.”

A tear slips down your cheek to replace the old ones. “Please, my prince–”

“There’s only one way to solve this,” he says, walking toward you once more so that you’re forced to look up at him. He’s taller than Prince Aegon, and his gaze can be just as dark. “I can give you back to the beast, who will maul until he gets what he wants…” Your eyes close, trying to force the memory from your mind. He tilts his head and waits for you to look at him again.

“Or I can ruin you for him.” His proposal sends an unwanted shiver down your spine. You audibly sigh at his suggestion. “Then he shall no longer have interest in you.”

The gods have a strange sense of humor. Every time you suppose they’ve answered your prayers, they offer an alternative that you fight to determine better or worse. No win can ever simply be a win, no salvation can ever simply be salvation. It seems even now…that you’ve traded one beast for another. Now you’re forced to choose between the lesser of two evils.

Your throat is dry. You have to clear it in order to find words to speak, timid words that find a lot of difficulty in breeching your lips. You look up at him, your eyes wet.

“He won’t want me anymore?” You wipe at your eyes, trying to dry your constant tears. “You’ll…” You clear your throat. “You’ll protect me?”

Prince Aemond watches you closely, his gaze betraying no hesitance. He raises a hand to your cheek, brushing his thumb under your eye line to rid yourself of your tears. “You have my word,” he nearly whispers.

You look down at your hands, steeling your nerves as you squeeze your eyes shut.

It’s one night. Then you shall be free from the torment of the eldest Targaryen prince. Your troubles shall be put in the past. Just one night…then all will be well.

You just pray this beast is kinder.

You slowly rise to your feet, your fingers almost lethargic in their movements as you hold your breath. He's taller than his brother, just by an inch or two. It's enough that you have to crane your neck even more to look up at him. It has a strange effect on you, one that makes you even shier than you were two moments ago.

You sheepishly raise a hand to your shoulder, pushing your apron off until your arms are free from it. Letting your breath free, you release your arm from the sleeve next. It takes forever, it feels like, to shed yourself of your clothes. But when you’re bare before him, you can’t help but to cover yourself with your arms, trying to preserve what little ounce of dignity you have left.

But there’s no use in it now. He raises hand, slowly so as not to scare you, and touches your waist. You nearly shudder at the feeling, so foreign to you. He drinks in the sight of you, feasting on your body in gentle praise. You drop your arms, allowing him to see all of you.

“My brother was right about one thing,” he hums, licking his bottom lip between his teeth. “You are a pretty girl.”

It feels so different when he says it. It shouldn’t. His actions are almost as selfish as his brother’s, though at least you gain something from your nearing fate. But those words on his lips, they caress you. They send shivers down your spine and offer the smallest salve to the raging nerves preventing you from being calm.

You struggle to find your voice, not yet able to meet his eyes.

“I…” you sigh in an attempt to steady your nerves. “I am at your…your full service, my prince.”

One of his hands continues to rest at your hip, holding you close as his palm strokes your skin. You sigh, your eyes fluttering shut. It just…it feels so nice. It’s so hard to resist a touch as nice as this one. His other hand reaches up to cup your cheek, and you’re forced to open your eyes to meet his gaze.

He brushes the apple of your cheek, staring into your eyes. His words have your blood rushing, your breath becoming thin. “Have you ever had your lips around a cock before?”

Your eyes flutter at the question as you shake your head. “N-No.”

“Someone’s mouth on your cunt?”

Your throat is so dry, you keep having to swallow. “No, my prince.”

He hums. You can’t tell if he sounds pleased or not. “I suppose you’ve done nothing.”

“Never.”

His thumb strokes your cheek again. You lean absently into his touch. “That’s alright,” he says. He lets go of you to shrug the top layer of his clothes off, leaving him in his tunic and trousers. It’s already such a forbidden sight, heat rushes to your cheeks at a glimpse of it—as though you were not already standing bare before him. “I shall teach you.”

When his lips meet yours, you gasp against his mouth as your head begins to spin. You’re so startled by the sudden movement, it takes you a moment to actually realize what’s happened, let alone for you to gather the sense to kiss him back. His hand wraps around the back of your head to bring you closer, and a whining sound comes out of you when you feel his tongue slipping into your mouth.

This whole thing is so foreign to you, so forbidden and exciting and terrifying. Your breath shudders against his lips, and he feeds off your apprehension. He steps forward into you, and you nearly stumble back in an effort to keep up. You’re forced to stop your backpedal when the hard wood of the table digs roughly into your back.

Your stomach churns with a feeling unfamiliar to you, and you lean into it because you have nowhere else to lean. Aemond’s hands hold you tightly, his lips never relent as they suckle around yours. The tingling in your body has become so strong, your legs feel like they’re trembling, like your knees will give out any moment now.

When he pulls away from you, your breaths mingle in the short amount of space between you. They’re thick with whatever it is you’re feeling, this all-consuming lust that leaves you dizzy and wanting. You’re still so close, your lips brush against one another in a silent, teasing chase.

And you know you’ve passed the point of no return when you capture his lips once again, sighing into his mouth and delving into the desire driving you. You’re losing breath and your legs are becoming less and less capable of keeping you up, but you don’t care. You just need to keep tasting him, his lips, his tongue.

You reach for his tunic, pulling the fabric from his trousers and slipping your hands underneath it to feel the strength in his belly. He’s soft, smooth, but you can feel his muscles flexing against your touch. Aemond is the one who pulls away, panting heavily as he watches you. A smirk curves his lips and leaves you weak. You watch him take a small step back, lifting his shirt over his head and discarding it carelessly on the floor. You’re drunk on the sight of him, your lashes fluttering as you drive your teeth into your bottom lip.

When he pulls at his belt, you don’t know what to do. You just stand there, watching his deft hands as they begin to unbuckle it, pulling it from its proper place with a grand sweep. It drops heavily to the floor, and his trousers soon follow.

You hold your breath, staring at the erection between his legs. He’s long and flushed pink. You don’t know what to do, how to react. As you both stand naked before one another, the only thing you can really think to do is drink the other in.

Aemond interrupts your thoughts as he grabs your face again, smashing his lips against yours. You whine again, your tentative hands grazing his sides with a hesitant appreciation. He keeps kissing you as he moves, and you’re too distracted with the way his mouth feels against yours to do much else but stumble after him.

You’re forced to part when he sits down, his hands falling to your hips as he grips them tightly. “Get on your knees for me, pretty girl.”

The words wash over you with a shudder. You know that saying that is a show of power, a flaunt. He stole you from his tyrannical brother, and now you fall apart at the sound of the same name he’d been calling you. With no choice but to obey—both from obligation and a crumbling will—you do as he says as you slowly sink down to your knees.

You stare up at him, your eyes glittering, your lips parted. Aemond takes a moment, admiring the view before him with a sigh and the shake of his head. He thinks you look simply…perfect like this, awaiting his instruction with such an innocence about you.

“I want you to lick it,” he says simply.

You flush, feeling the heat burning in your face, feeling your core pulsing with a sudden desire. Your lips open and close, trying to figure out how to respond. You don’t know how.

Aemond wraps a hand around the back of your head, his fingers weaving their way through your hair. Slowly, he pulls you in until your nose nudges his cock. You sigh, the warm breath fanning over him and making him twitch. Swallowing thickly, you steel your nerves as you timidly let your tongue slip past your lips. Closing your eyes, you do as you’re told and you lick it.

He has an interesting taste, a salty kind filled with a heady scent that invades your senses. Your mind is clouded by lust, your fingers tremble. He closes his eye as he sighs. “Good, just like that. Do it again.”

You lean into the gentle praise, becoming a little braver as you continue to lave your tongue along the underside of his cock. It’s not hard to become addicted to it, his taste, his smell. It’s like you’ve been doused in a potion, one that intoxicates you with the strong scent of him.

You let his sighs guide you as your tongue presses against the vein running up his solid cock. He’s hard, and it’s daunting that he feels so stone-like. You take the initiative as you wrap your lips around the head of his cock, suckling gently around it as you swirl your tongue along the slit.

Aemond’s lips part, and he opens his eye to look at you again. “Good,” he says. “Very good. Suck harder.”

You do, rewarded with a gentle grunt that sends shivers all throughout your body. His hand flexes in your hair, and your breath hitches slightly when he pushes you an inch further onto his cock. Adjusting your mouth, you move to take him deeper, sucking him down however you can. Then, just as he’d pushed you down, he guides you back up. Following his lead, you move on your own, moving up and down and up down until you’ve built a steady rhythm.

“Good girl,” he breathes, this kind of hum that is far more rewarding than you would have thought. You follow his sounds, bobbing your head up and down his shaft with a growing enthusiasm. “Give me your hand.” He holds out his own for yours to take, and you do, pulling off of him with a sigh.

He guides your hand to his cock, wrapping your fingers around the base of him. His hand consumes yours as he covers it, squeezing it tight until a groan falls from his lips. He moves it up and down, setting your rhythm, up and down, just like before, up and down.

His hand guides you back down and you take him back into your mouth. You hear the faintest “fuck” breach his lips, and a light feeling floods your system. You must be doing it right. Another “good girl” falls from his lips, and you melt.

You build up some speed, squeezing hard and sucking harder to give him the pleasure he needs. Your jaw and your neck aches, but you’re too caught up in the way his moans sound to care. Your throat catches on a gag when you go too deep, and you gasp on your way up, pausing for a moment to adjust before you take him again.

You feel Aemond’s hips beginning to twitch, rising off the seat a bit as he seeks the warmth of your mouth. When they buck up into you, forcing a gag to erupt out of you, your other hand shoots up to hold him still, nearly panicking when he does. “Yes,” he huffs. “You’re doing so well, pretty girl.”

A whimper leaves your throat, and his breath hitches. As your hand jerks at his cock, he grips your hair and pulls you off of him with a grunt. Your tongue lolls from your mouth, and you have to catch your breath as fresh invades your lungs. His next curse is much clearer as his chest rises and falls with his desire.

“Fuck,” he huffs. His gaze finds you, and he smirks at the sight of your wet eyes and plump lips. “Very good, my sweet thing.”

One of his hands wraps around your throat, and you gasp before his lips find yours again. You lean into it, loving the way his mouth slots so perfectly with yours. He grabs a hold of you as he wills you to stand with him. “My prince,” you sigh between kisses, drinking the lust he pushes down your throat.

You yelp when he dips down and lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he walks away with you. You hold on tightly to him, finding it so difficult to pull away from his lips. “Aemond,” he corrects you, his teeth closing around your bottom lip. You lick it, pleasantly startled by it.

The smallest scream passes your lips when Aemond suddenly drops you onto his bed. He chases after you, bending over it just to continue his attack of your lips. You cradle his face in your hands, indulging in this forbidden pleasure. He breaks from your lips, his mouth finding your neck as he kisses and licks and sucks and bites at the skin. You gasp at the feeling, your mind hazy with it.

His hands roam your skin, his dull nails grazing it with a certain longing. His lips trail down, down, down. He kisses the lowest part of your belly, lifts your leg as he moves to kiss your knee. He watches you as he does it. He doesn’t say a word, he just stares into your eyes with every peck against your flesh.

Uncontrollable shudders rush through you as his lips press against the inside of your thigh, his tongue darting to lick, his teeth nipping. He goes farther and farther, closer and closer. You don’t think you’ll be able to handle it when he reaches the prize he seeks.

Your words come out as a peep. “My prince.”

He pauses at the very center of your being, his mouth so close that his breath ghosts over you, teasing you. He lingers there, his hands gripping the underside of your thighs. “Aemond.”

His voice is low, almost dangerous. You feel too light and floaty to feel the real danger that is this man. You’re in no position to refuse as you take in a shallow breath. “Aemond,” you whisper.

Then he smirks. It’s a devilish thing that leaves you burning.

You gasp when he dives between your legs, his hot mouth meeting your hot cunt as he laps and sucks at your folds. Your back arches off the bed, and you’re overcome with this consuming feeling that leaves you wanting more, more, more. You whimper, stumbling over your incoherent words. “F-Fuck, Aemond.”

He’s hungry for you, starving as he devours you. It’s hot and heavy, and you’re left absolutely shaking in his grasp. His arms wrap around your thighs, pulling you close and keeping you down.

Your hands fly to his hair, gripping his silver locks and holding them tight to find something to ground you. You can't breathe, you can't think. It's all white noise, the sounds of wet on wet, his heavy breaths, your weak moans. It's utterly intoxicating. You don't think you'll survive.

“Oh, g-gods,” you gasp. “I c-can't. It's so… fuck, it's so good. Please don't stop!”

It’s like music to his ears. The highs of your moans, the lows of your grunts. It feeds his hunger, his pride, his desire. It writhes within him like the fire that writhes within his mighty dragon.

Aemond’s tongue licks and flicks at your clit, coaxing you closer and closer. As you tug at his hair, deep groans erupt from his throat. As your release nips at your heels, beckoning you, luring you toward that edge like a siren’s call, his name echoes off your tongue. He holds you down as you grind against his face, searching for more of him, a glutton for the pleasure he provides.

“Aemond,” you gasp, your body tensing as you get closer. “I’m so close. Please don’t stop–”

Your mouth drops open, your entire body suddenly alight with ecstasy as you reach that boiling point. White flashes behind your eyes as desperate shudders wreck you from the inside out. Your thighs tighten around his head, and his tongue never lets up as he continues to lap at your cunt. You gasp and moan and ride out your high like you’re afraid you’ll never feel it again.

He doesn't let up through your orgasm. He drinks it down, ever the starved man craving your honey. When the trembling has dulled down, and he thinks you can breathe again, Aemond sits up with a rather pleased look on his face. “You taste,” he hums, a large smirk covering his face as he licks his lip, “magnificent, pretty girl.” You melt at his praise.

When his finger teases the seam of your cunt, you look at him quickly, unsure of what you’re looking for. You whine when he presses his finger inside of you, pushing it in deep. The sensitivity matched with the slight stretch is maddening—and when he curls it, you lose your breath in your whimper.

You curse, not quite sure how to feel between your fresh release and his long finger seated so nicely within you. You cannot tell if you want to beg for more or ask him for a reprieve, if only for a moment. A moment to catch your breath, which is so frequently lost with this man.

But he’s far too happy to watch you tremble—and you do tremble. It’s hard not to when he plays your body like a player to a lyre. He thrusts his finger slowly in and out of you, content with the way you pant until he isn’t. As he adds a second finger, you clench your teeth and stifle a moan at the stretch. It’s a nice kind of stretch, it’s pleasant and warm but it drives you to madness.

He thrusts his fingers in and out of you, curling them against a spongy spot within you that arches your back in the same manner. The more he strokes you, the more you moan, and the faster he goes. His rhythm is quick and precise, and it's so blinding as it fills the air with the sounds of your moans, your squelching cunt, his eager breaths.

The pleasure swirls in your brain. It's the kind of pleasure that is just as much in your head as it is in your body, and you can hardly think past it. Bending down to meet you, his lips capture yours again. You moan into his mouth as they slide against each other. There's nothing tender about this kiss. There's never been anything tender about it. He's needy and primal, and it's the opposite of the composure this man holds as he walks about the castle with all the regality and elegance of a prince.

The way that you feel this pleasure is anything but elegant. You feel it with jerky limbs, with sharp gasps, with whining moans. You feel it with tugged hair and clasped thighs and clenched jaws. It's uncontrolled and incredibly indulgent. There's no restraint, as much as you try to keep yourself in check, he yanks these things from you and makes it impossible to be elegant.

“Such a good girl, you are,” he purrs, nipping at your earlobe. The praise goes straight to your core, straight to your pulsing clit. You're already so close, you feel the ebb and flow of a release pulling at you. “I can already imagine how perfect you'll feel around my cock.”

A whimper escapes you—a pathetic sound, really. He swallows it down like a sweet elixir, drunk on the taste, drunk on the feel. He could spend forever here, with his fingers shoved in your cunt and his mouth all over your body.

When he breaks away from your lips, he moves down your body and attacks your cunt, fingers still thrusting. You react immediately, rolling your hips against him as his tongue laps at your clit. You're so caught up in it that it takes no time at all for you to come again, this time all over his hand.

You shake as you shout, high-pitched whines and shallow breaths and blinded eyes. Your pussy clenches around his fingers, and he keeps coaxing the ends of your release from you even after you've settled.

When you go limp against the sheets of his bed, he pulls his hand out of you. You feel heavy, your eyes drooping and your chest still full of needy breath. You forget, for a moment, that you're not done. It's hard to keep up so fresh out of your virginity. You never thought you would lose it so thoroughly.

Aemond kisses your release from his fingers, humming at the taste of you with a growing appreciation. His hand wraps around his cock, and he groans. He's still so hard, and you wonder briefly if it hurts.

“Sit up, pretty girl,” he beckons, holding a hand out for you.

It takes a moment for your body to follow the order. When you do you grasp his hand as he helps you up. He wraps an arm around your waist, the other at his side as he pulls you in and kisses you with as much hunger as he began.

When he lets you go, he does so to move off the bed. You sit there, attempting to gather your thoughts. Everything is still so hazy, there's a slight confusion that is so difficult to gauge.

Aemond sits at the head of the bed, sitting back as he watches you for a moment. He seems to be giving you the moment you're needing. It doesn't last too long, though, because he reaches an arm out and wraps it around you to bring you to him, back to chest.

You can feel his cock pressing into your back as his lips brush the shell of your ear. A shudder runs down your spine.

“I am going to fuck you now,” he purrs in your ear. The smallest whimper escapes you, and his lips kick at the sound. “But before I do, I must tell you how much I've been craving you.”

You lean into him, no sense or care for the danger this situation puts you in. “I've been watching you.” A dull tingle sparks in your gut, arising in the tips of your fingers, of your ears. He was always watching you.

“You're such a lovely little thing.” He hums, “A sweet girl, a shy girl. No wonder my brother wants you so much. It's the only sensible thing he's ever done.”

He takes a deep breath in, his nose pressed into your hair as he does. With a sigh, he chuckles. “How lucky I am to have gotten to you first.” His hand flattens against your belly while the other strokes the inside of your thigh.

“You see, my brother…he would have ravished you.” The idea makes you cold, you have to force away the heat that pushes at your eyes. “But me…” you can feel his smirk against your ear as he whispers, “...I am going to ravage you.”

Your voice is a small murmur of a thing when you speak. You reach over your shoulder, your fingers finding his hair. “Please…” you whimper.

Aemond turns you around, lifting you up as he moves you to sit in his lap. His cock sits against your belly, and you lose breath just looking at him. You watch his face as his gaze covers you. His arms wrap tightly around your body, and when he kisses you, he has to move up to do it.

You cradle his head in your hands as you do, grinding your hips against him in your haste. He groans as you do, enjoying the way your pussy rubs against him. His strong hands wrap around your thighs, lifting you up again as he positions you over him.

When he eases you down, you whine into his mouth. But the intrusion doesn't stop as he presses deeper and deeper into you. Your thighs meet his lap, and you break the kiss to let out a heavy sigh at how far he sits within you.

You linger there, your mind hazy with the stretch as your body goes limp. It feels so good.

Aemond's hands flex on your thighs, and you moan when he presses you down, squishing your bodies together in an attempt to go deeper. “I can feel you clenching around me,” he huffs. “Do you want me, pretty girl? Do you want me to make you feel good?”

You roll your hips a little in his lap, your voice a permanent whine in your ear as you keep him close, your face buried in the crook of his neck. “Yes,” you gasp. “Yes, please fuck me, Aemond.”

He shifts his hands to grip your ass, and the moan that falls out of you is high and heavy. You hold him tighter, grinding down into his lap.

You fall into a steady rhythm soon enough—his hands guiding your rolling hips, your pitched moans, his strained breaths. Your thighs shake around him, it's so hard to keep it steady when you need more.

It drives you as you fuck yourself on his cock, searching even deeper for that pleasure, You're not used to the heat curling in your belly. It's white-hot, consuming. It makes you so hard to focus as it slowly begins to become all you know.

For a moment, you wonder if this is what it feels like to be a dragon. This overwhelming heat which makes a home inside of you. Hoarding, nesting, conquering. You wonder if this feeling is what makes the Targaryens what they are, rulers.

But then you remember. You remember who you are. You remember that dragons are fierce, and you could never even imagine being as fierce as even the smallest of the Targaryen beasts.

So you lose yourself in the pleasure until all you know is Aemond. His lips press against your skin as you ride him, his fingers digging into your skin as he licks and bites at your neck, your collarbone, your chest. When his lips wrap around your nipple, you're done for as you throw your head back. Pushing your chest closer to him, you bounce in his lap and indulge in this pleasure.

His moans vibrate within you. You're left gasping as his tongue digs into your nipple and sends electricity flowing through your veins. “Aemond, please,” you mewl. “Don't stop.” His tongue glides toward the valley of your breasts, and you arch your back into him when he claims your other nipple.

A sudden crack of thunder resembling a dragon's roar deafens you for a moment, and a startled gasp slips from you at the sound. You had not even realized it had been raining. If it weren't for the bliss clouding your mind, you would feel foolish for not hearing the rain sooner as it slaps against the windows of his chambers.

In your brief distraction, Aemond brings you in tight as he pushes you onto your back, and you yelp as you tighten your arms around him. His figure towers over you, and you hesitate for a moment as you stare into his eye.

He's pretty. It has an almost sobering effect on you. If you forget who and what he is, if you forget (for the moment) why you are here… you think that this is the man who you would allow to sweep you off your feet.

But he isn't, and he can't be. He is your prince and (for lack of better word) savior. You owe him a debt, which you will pay and move on.

So when his hips snap into you, you lose yourself all again to make all of this easier. Like the pouring rain outside, his sudden thrusts are quick and persistent. The sound of his cock sliding in and out of your dripping cunt matches that of the rain smacking against stone, against earth. You hold onto him, arms and legs, as he fucks you.

He holds you close, like he'll keel over if you disappear. His sounds, though deep and heavy, hold a certain desperation in them that transcends blind lust. As you moan in his ear and ramble nonsensically about how good he's making you feel, he buries his face in the crook of your neck and feasts at your throat.

Somehow, this position allows him to drive deeper within you. You're left gasping, seeing stars with every slap of his hips. One hand cradles the back of your head, tangled in your hair as you moan. The other grasps your hip and refuses to let go as he holds you still.

The rain outside carries on. It's more fitting than a silent night. The thunder rumbles and roars, just like the heat writhing within the both of you. “Do you like it, pretty girl?” he mutters in your ear, his breath thin and his voice low. “Do you like how I’m fucking you?”

You’re losing it, teetering on the edge of senseless bliss. There’s too much pleasure shooting in your body and nowhere to put it as you clench and shake and moan. “I can’t–” you stutter, wrapping your legs tighter around him. “Please, my prince, I can’t!”

“Do you want me to make you cum, pretty girl? Is that what you want?” His excitement and desperation mix in a heavy encouragement that has his hips thrusting rougher into your own. It feels so good for you to be able to think about what he’s asked. All you know is that he’s going to let you cum, and that’s all you want right now. You crave it, like the soil craves water, like your lungs crave air.

As you pull him tight within your embrace, you're driven by your need as you nod. “Yes, yes, yes, please.” You gasp at the roll of his hips. “I’ll do anything. Please give it to me.”

He loves hearing you say that. I’ll do anything. Part of him wonders just how far you would go. You’re already fucking him, the prince, in order to escape his brother, another prince. If he had his way—and it’s likely he will—you’ll find yourself in this position more than once following this encounter.

He just supposes you ought to be more careful to whom you speak those words.

“Beg for it,” he demands, his lips lazy against your skin. “Beg for me to keep fucking you. Beg for me to cum in you, to let you cum on my cock. Beg me to give you what you want, pretty girl.”

You’re too far gone to care, and your dignity has long since been shed. You’ve already sold your soul, you’ve already given up the virginity that’s meant to be reserved for a husband—were he ever to find his way to you. You have nothing left to lose but your life, and that has already been sold to the Targaryen reign.

So, as the thunder rumbles, you let the pleads fall. “Please, Aemond, let me cum,” you stutter. “Please cum inside of me. I need you.”

He’s losing control. It’s a confusing, conflicting feeling. He needs the control, he needs to feel it in his hands, especially as he takes you—something that was rightfully his when he decided you were. But you…oh, you just had to be so perfect, so obedient, so good. His control was slipping, and it was your fault, and part of him didn’t even care.

He held you still and he held you down as he fucked his cock into your squelching pussy and cricled his dept fingers over your aching clit. The sight of your tearing eyes as your foreheads pressed together was addicting.

You are the first to cum. The thunder outside of his window is loud, a terrible rumble that almost silences your desperate moans, the sobbing breaths that fall from your lips as you see white. The pleasure overcomes you like the pouring rain that drowns the ground in its consuming cover. You hold him tight, too tight perhaps. But there’s not enough sense in your mind to care.

You clench so tightly around his cock, he doesn’t understand how he was supposed to resist. With a few powerful thrusts, he spills inside of you with a low groan that sounds like a roar with the way it is drowned by the raging crack of thunder that deafens you both. Your cunt swallows his cock and his cum down, milking every last drop as he fucks it into you in deep, short thrusts.

You shake and tremble, still so caught on the ride that is the orgasm still ripping through your body. Aemond’s teeth graze the skin of your throat as his breath fans over your skin.

It takes a long time for either of you to come down. Tremors glide through your muscles as you lay on your back, your limbs very slowly loosening from around him as you lay limply on the bed. Your breaths mingle, an exchange of sobering lust which turns to solemn clarity for you and satiated hunger for him. As his gaze catches your face, he hums as he leans in and captures your lips.

As wrong as you know it is—though you know you’ve passed the point of moral obligation—you can’t help but to kiss him back. This man has consumed you, body and mind and soul. He has a claim on you now that goes even deeper, somehow, than the cum he’s shoved into your womb. You don’t know what you’re going to do, but for now…you simply give in to the intoxication of his desire.

When he pulls out of you, it's with heavy sighs and weak whimpers. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you to sit up, leaning all the way back until he’s laying against the pillows at the top of the bed with you right at his side. Despite your better judgment, you seek his warmth as you rest your head on his chest. Aemond throws one arm over you and the other behind his head.

Neither of you look at one another. It’s an unspoken agreement, while you both think over things in your mind. No gazes really need to be exchanged.

You thought, like some great metaphor, that the rain would begin to slow now that the frenzy has faded. You thought that the thunder would settle and the harsh patter of rain at the window would begin distant flicks of water on glass. But as you lay there, wrapped in Aemond’s embrace, the storm refuses to cease.

It’s a while before you find your voice. When you do, it’s still so quiet, and now hoarse with its overuse throughout this dark night.

“Will…” you lick your lip, swallowing thickly with a sigh. “Will Prince Aegon truly leave me be now?”

Aemond doesn’t respond right away. As he stares at the ceiling, you feel his thumb begin to stroke slow circles into your shoulder. It remains quiet for a long time. “My brother does not care whether you have your virtue or not.” His words would have pulled a gasp from you, were you not subconsciously expecting them from coming from his mouth. “He would have raped you all the same.”

Still, despite your suspicions, despite your inhibitions, you sit up just enough to look at his face. Despite everything, remaining oblivious seems like an easier choice than facing what you already know: he lied to you, and you let him do it because one evil is easier than the other. “What?” you whisper, apprehension in your eyes as you watch him. He stares back at you, taking in the sight of your innocence. He could not have chosen better.

“But he shall not,” he says, a firmness in his soft voice that eases your worry. “He will not cross me, and I shall have you transferred to my chambers instead of his to keep my eye on you.” He takes your chin in his grasp, pulling you close. “I promise my protection, it is yours.” His lips hardly brush against yours, it is you who closes the distance (no matter how much you convince yourself that it is him). You sink into him with a gentle sigh.

“He will not touch you. Now…” his eyes are dark when he says it, “...you belong to me.”

You always knew this was the route. You knew, whether you would ever admit it to yourself or not, that he always meant to own you. And you let him. You let him do it, despite knowing what he is.

He is a Targaryen, and all Targaryens must be beasts in the end, some more than others.

Prince Aegon is a cruel beast, a monster truly favored by none… but Aemond is no less cruel. He is a subtler beast, the kind that lies in waiting, charms with smiles and soothing promises, the kind that bargains in the dark and sways the monsters of the daylight. The difference between the princes is not the difference between good and bad. You know this. You have known this. You always will know this.

But Prince Aemond’s cruelty is kind…and you’d rather be monstrously deceived than beaten bloody and bruised.

Ice and Fire taglist: @divinearchangel @alexxavicry @katsukis1wife @kmc1989 @the-nerdy-goddess @urmomsgirlfriend1 @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo @lover-of-books-and-tea @avalyaaa Tag yourself here...

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader smut #aemond targaryen fanfiction #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #reader insert #female reader

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anantaru · 9 months ago

Note

how would anemo boys act with someone who’s generally really quiet and just doesn’t make much noise? especially in bed 😏

including. scaramouche, kazuha

synopsis. you're hiding your moans from him

cw. [ex]plicit, lots of teasing, rough syx, fingering, scara doubts himself a little we love to see it, dom kazuha, fem! reader

— ꒰ SCARAMOUCHE ꒱

"huh, why aren't you saying anything?" scaramouche asks, staring at you while playfully blending in a few grinding movements on your cunt in hopes you'd just moan his name.

you see to scaramouche, to even get one single sentence out had been really fucking hard, so how come you're having no trouble keeping yourself silent?

all night, he was very sensitive, hissing through each thrust and alternating between rough, rushed ruts and deep, precise grinds that it was slowly getting to him.

"—fuck, j-just something," he mumbles through a tensed jaw, peering down at your perfectly arched body as you teasingly avert your gaze from his, pretending as if the desperate part of him wasn't turning you on a tenfold.

your boyfriend hesitatingly brings a hand to your cheek, "say something, come on," and lets go off a moan, deepening the sealed connection on your cunt and turning his hips slower, making you dart your eyes into the back off your skull when he buries inches after inches in you.

you grin in return, hoping you could at least put up with this game a little longer.

but your cunt was struggling viciously, being so adaptable with how quick scaramouche could change his movements that it left you short on breath— it's all rigid and solid at first, later he stretches you out piercingly fast, until your pussy was twitching on repeat.

your breath gets stuck in your throat as he snaps his cock in before you feel him twitch in you, the very moment you made a slight noise of surprise, "you're not answering my question," scaramouche hisses at you, having his hand stroke your cheek while he makes you take his cock well and nicely.

but whatever, right? it doesn't matter to scaramouche if you're being loud or dead silent— although pondering about the situation at hand, he's been so patient waiting for your flowery whines to bubble from your throat, to your tongue until he listens to them, biding his time and allowing himself to fuck you like he thought you enjoyed it.

what if you didn't enjoy it? everything happened so quickly and he found himself doubting his skills, it makes him go slow and rapid all at once.

to hear you was something he didn't deserve then.

but how much he wanted to hear you say he was doing a good job was ridiculous. as much as it was desperate.

you hum affirmatively in response, your mouth softly attached to his jaw before you rock your hips upwards in a repeated sequence, an electric-bolt snapping in your heat as you moan into his lips— granted, it wasn't the loudest noise you could push out, yet it was a genuine one, to the point where your head spins when you're moaning again, only emphasizing how deeply you were feeling his length pleasure you.

that alone brought scaramouche back to reality.

slick drips from your hole and he knows by the flinch of your touch that you're close. he was breathing heftily against your glossy lips as if it's a relief to have you sing for him now, his cock throbbing hard until he's spasming.

his face silently travels from your eyes to your tits flinging up and down with his shallow thrusts racing through your velvet walls, "I love everything about this," he whispers, slightly flustered, droplets of sweat slithering down his forehead, "you love it too, hm?"

scaramouche needs to know. he lays open mouthed kisses on your cheek and jaw, smearing his saliva over the heated skin.

your moans were euphonious, bird sweet and soothing to his ears, a perfect composition indeed.

"v-very," you cup his cheeks proudly, arching your back into his body as his cock drags across your searing walls,

you go on, pulling your hips up to meet his so he could slip into you deeper, watching how his mouth parts and brows knit together,

"you're doing s-so good, always,"

— ꒰ KAZUHA ꒱

"oh? doing this on purpose, aren't you?" kazuha grunts at the clench you have around his shaft, but then he smirks after you denied his questioning on your noises, or well, the sheer lack of them.

have you gone silent? or do you not like the way he stretches your pussy anymore?

the slow pumps on your cunt had always been precise. kazuha knows you like the back of his hand, in fact, he gets turned on in accessory to displayed a sort of filthy and twisted expression on his darling face, morphing his demeanor on his weighty thrusts on your pussy, so you could see and feel what you're doing to him.

he managed to not only target the places that made your mind rewire, but kazuha would also find new spots you never knew could be stimulated in that way.

"no matter," the man gasps at the rolls through your walls, his thrusts shocking each and every nerve in his body, "i'll just have to get them out of you somehow,"

he adds before pulling his body up so he could prance one hand down the area between your breasts, smothering over the sweat-stricken skin so softly until he reaches your stomach, teasingly pressing down as he cocks a brow.

you can feel how hard he was slotted in your cunt, and when kazuha pushes down on your stomach you thought your little game would end right there. little do you realize that this wasn't his original intention and that he's planned something a whole lot delicious.

he slides a thumb to your clit, leisurely and without a hurry, his erection barely moving now but twitching ever so often as he slowly digs through the delicate skin that was protecting the pearl, rubbing your clit softly to hopefully bring your mewls and whines to the surface.

a searing warmth runs hot in your cunt as your back arches when kazuha alternates between toying with your clit and pumping you of his cock again, slowly dragging his erection against your velvety walls with all he's got.

realize this now— it's that one special way he did it, moving his shaft in a slowed motion so your body could react on how full you've been getting with each inch slotted inside.

your head was above the clouds now, serving to diminish your previous attempts to fool your boyfriend. you needed this so badly right now, you wanted kazuha to make you cum so badly that you're beginning to gasp loudly, so loud in fact that it almost overturned the fast thuds of your heart.

opening your dazed eyes, you needed kazuha to listen and watch you, watch everything he made your body do— how he's bringing his cock in you easily, how he slowly pumps in your hole and meshes his shaft with your arousal, his erection aching, hot, slowly and teasingly spreading you apart.

a whimper slips through your lips when kazuha slants forward, swirling his tongue in your mouth but keeping things slow.

your body shivers under the lewd wetness of sweaty skin on skin rubbing against each other as it provided you with strong, electrifying tremors when your legs begin to clench around his hips, your pussy full of his cock.

"told you so," he hints at his previous declaration as your body combusts in a matter of seconds, your cunt pulsing at his words when your arousal slides over his length with pre dripping from his tip.

"not fair," you whine as he laughs breathily, nibbling on your jawline, the softness of his lips painted with the vivid hues of passion.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #scaramouche x reader #kazuha x reader #scaramouche smut #kazuha smut #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #kazuha x you #scaramouche x you #genshin drabbles #genshin impact drabbles

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yzzart · 11 months ago

Text

"𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞."

pairing: peacekeeper!Coriolanus x reader.

word count: 2.411!

summary: you would never think you would be brought to a filthy place by Coriolanus.

warnings: +18!, p in v, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, biting, mention of blood, possessiveness, pet names, dirty talk, explicit words, explicit content.

Lucy Gray's enthusiastic voice, used to captivating and enchanting the attention of anyone in the surroundings, was completely muffled and a little inaudible, but impossible to be silenced; the lyrics, which told stories she lived and told, remained understandable. — They were always understandable and manifested.

So, like the citizens, workers and survivors of District 12 who were present in the environment and sang, danced and got in sync with the girl. — Some were drinking, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere, without worrying about their lives and listening to singing.

Perhaps, you would be included at some table, drinking, or not, trying to put something reasonable in your unbearable mind or letting your pride, your envy for, respectively, the winner of district 12 and sing along with her. — And then forget what happened the next day.

Well, that is if Coriolanus hadn't dragged your hand and taken you to an empty, dirty and, terribly, poorly lit corridor with such an inappropriate and filthy intention. — Dirtier than that environment.

"Look at you." — His voice mixed in the song and against its pure poison, the one you were used to delighting in, and a false softness; pretending to care about your sly whining. — "Such a dirty girl, huh?" — A question you wouldn't dare answer, you wouldn't give him that taste.

You knew, he knew, that he was right. — Coriolanus was never wrong; not even when he wanted to be. — The delightful situation you allowed yourself to commit to was indecent, unworthy; risking all the good and distinguished manners he learned at home in the Capital. — And something that, clearly, your parents would be disappointed in their naive daughter.

Coriolanus held and pressed your delicate, vulnerable body on his lap, pinning your back to the old-fashioned, rusty, unfamiliar wall and imposing your legs around his waist. — With the peculiar fact that his cock is buried and so concentrated in your pussy; warming and enveloping him insanely. — The feeling of his clothing fabric caused distress and burned your skin a little, it didn't bother you at all. — His hands grabbed your thighs with determination, forcing, in the future, marks from his fingers in the region.

The young and current peacekeeper was marking every part of your body; even those spots that were not visible and so hidden with clothes.

But who are you kidding when it's a guy you sacrificed your exquisite life for? Even with him severely violating the rules imposed in the game and knowing the risks involved, what would he, in fact, lose in his life. — A proof of love like this was not seen or witnessed in times like these. — And you did it for Coriolanus.

Your conscience was against the fallacies uttered from the melancholic and questioning lips of your parents, who did not assimilate the reason for your decision and request to be transported to where Coriolanus was destined. — They denied it, at first, but they agreed in distress and begged for you to be okay; and even bribing some captain to pay attention and protection to you. — Honestly, you didn't need a miserable captain because you knew who you could count on and who could protect you.

These were the words of Coriolanus, upon learning the story, your first report and confession upon meeting him. — God, you remember every word.

"Did a bird bite your tongue out, my dear?" — He gasped against your sweaty and nibbled neck, and that, for sure, in the next few hours marks would appear on your sensitive area and you didn't know how you were going to hide them. — "Tell me, hm?" — Coriolanus, not satisfied with the previous and present marks, left a long and intense suck and lick on the marked spot.

"Coryo…" — You moaned in a drawn out, almost silent way, running one of your hands through his rough, cut hair; you missed your beautiful and soft curls, that change was terrible and so painful for your eyes. — "Can anyone…" — Taking a deep breath, you tried to find words. — "…appear here."

And you were right, at least there was a reasonable streak of awareness in your mind. — Coriolanus didn't matter, he didn't care, and he wouldn't listen to his words; This was, incredibly, unbearable.

It was a corridor that led to some rooms and, probably, small and mediocre rooms that held drinks and small, ordinary portions of food; therefore, someone could pass by there. — A drunk, a person looking for a calmer environment, a peacemaker or even sweet Lucy Gray looking for you. — Anyone could conceptualize that moment.

"Oh, but it would be quite a spectacle, wouldn't it?" — Coriolanus deepened, even more, his body against your; causing a more sudden and surprising contact of his cock against your pussy. — You two moaned together. — "And deep down in that silly little head of yours, you'd love it." — He took a deep breath, licking the bite he left on his neck. — "I know that, my dear."

Coriolanus deeply hated the attempt to be deceived; the dishonest and undignified way people believe they could lie to him or at least hide what is truly going on in their skin. — He committed such an act, it became too ironic for his tongue. — Snow felt disgusted.

However, he found your attempt to pretend to believe in a certain concern funny; he was delightful, exciting.

Coriolanus's reddened lips, mixed with the taste of your sweat, distributed wet and quick kisses to your lips, which were nibbled and had some rather discreet marks of blood; if he weren't so busy, your lover would scold you for hurting your bold and beautiful mouth. — Before deepening a contact between your lips, Coriolanus curved a sharp smile, as evil as his true thoughts, and releasing a brief laugh that vibrated his chest.

Coriolanus had you in the palm of his hand.

Wasting no time, Coriolanus joined your lips against his, crushing and sucking them; forming such an obscene and inappropriate kiss accompanied by wet noises and whimpers. — Coriolanus's poisonous tongue moved, abruptly and rudely, through your mouth, as if he didn't know it, and fought for space, a domination that had no conditions to exist. — There were quick and anxious contacts between teeth, but nothing that could interrupt you.

Your hand remained in his coarse hair, while the other rested on his clothed shoulder. — You wanted, more than anything, to mark that arrogant man; and you wanted until the end to be able to leave at least a simple scratch.

When disconnecting his lips from yours, Coriolanus runs his teeth across your lower lip, biting and pulling, not exaggeratedly, at it. — Your mouth is shining, his too, from the mixing and distribution of saliva. — And the deep, vigorous, petulant blue eyes of Coriolanus looked at them with insatiable desire; as if he truly wanted to devour them. — As if a serpent saw its fragile and naive prey.

That man, for whom you would destroy your life for, was the very plumbing and aspect of one of the worst things that world could fear and observe. — And Coriolanus will do everything to ensure that your exquisite presence is at his side.

"When i'm done…" — Coriolanus cursed, shaking his head, moving his hips and returning to continuing the slow, silent thrusts. — "…when i'm fucking done with all this shit." — He tried to form a concrete sentence, finding words, but not using them in an appropriate and understandable way. — "I will make you the first lady of Panem."

Coriolanus groaned, so loud and noisy, and without any kind of shame; feeling your greedy and delicious pussy squeeze his cock with pleasure, even in a somewhat compromising position. — His voice sounded so vulnerable, a little miserable, and feeling corrupted by the spasms you attributed to him. — For the satisfaction you gave with this, in the future, title.

A title so promising, prestigious and respectable that it would quickly become his alone; fitting your name, as if it were created just for you. — Perfect.

"My first lady." — Another thrust, this time, deep and sudden; you felt, insanely, the veins and pulsations of Coriolanus's cock, you felt him completely. — "Just mine." — Your lover's possessiveness exclaimed in your ears, releasing whimpers and moans so needy and tremulous from your lips.

The noise of clothes clashing with little noise between the movements of Coriolanus's hips against your didn't bother either of your, just a mediocre desire to feel your flesh struggle against each other, freely. — Oh, but this wish can still be fulfilled during the late night or early morning. — Your body was so pressed, dominated by the young peacekeeper; your needy little hole was crushing against his dick.

You were accepting of him so well, you always did. — Coriolanus did not hold back or hide his groans and grunts, and your name was hummed from his lips like a snowflake at his introduction; even he couldn't contain himself and it was, ridiculously, contradictory. — He felt sensitive, completely, enchanted by you, even though he didn't believe in such beliefs.

"Coryo…" — Your lips were half-open, so red and irresistible, it seemed like they had the intention and objective of driving that young man crazy, calling out his name. — "My love…" — Your head was dizzy, a pure mess.

Normally, Snow felt a deep, burning and bitter disgust at hearing those last words coming from other people's lips; hard to disbelieve that it was worth listening to or being called that way. — So much affection, passion and destruction at the same time. — But, hearing and witnessing your genuine and admirable voice calling him that? In such an erotic, promiscuous and libertine tone. — Coriolanus mentally desired more; like always.

A trembling sensation, almost a contraction in your stomach accompanied by a somewhat bearable and pleasurable tingling began to form; and your lungs found it difficult to breathe, turning you into a panting mess. — And your eyes, completely, heavy and almost closing.

Coriolanus recognized this. — First than you.

"Coryo, i…" — You paused, trying to breathe. — "…i'm so close." — It was stupid to warn him, or guide him, about this because that damned young man knew it; and he knew your body better than you did.

Coriolanus didn't utter a word, and preferred to remain still trapped and focused on you, feeling you. — The blue eyes contemplated your image, which remained majestic even in such an impure situation; wanting to engrave it in his mind forever. — Soon, he sank your lips in a wet and captivating kiss against his, swallowing your loud moans; this time, Coriolanus kissed gently, a little gentle with a touch of fervor.

The peacekeeper pressed your body even more against the wall, squeezing your thighs tighter, as if he was looking for firmer support; Coriolanus was also close to cumming. — The thrusts became more sloppy and dedicated to releasing your orgasm and you moaned uncontrollably against the man's lips. — No one cared anymore about the fact that someone appeared in the region. — Your body burned, and it wasn't just from the unmistakable and unbearable heat.

Your walls spasmed through your body and pulsed against Coriolanus' cock, and the feeling of relief formed in your stomach; the feeling of liberation. — Your eyes closed, tightly and forcefully, along with a small crushed scream that was released through your lips; you reached your peak, cumming on Coriolanus's cock. — Giving yourself completely to him; reveling in your pleasure and passion for Snow.

You would be the death of him, and at risk, Coriolanus would never admit it out loud, never could confess; but, he was sure that you were the point of his weakness, of his instability. — Coriolanus would risk arresting, preserving you so that nothing wrong could happen to you and, above all, to him. — And when he admires your pleasure dripping down his mediocre pants, that the only thing that came out of your mouth was his name, Coriolanus feels his blood heat, somewhat ironically.

He feels like he's in a place he's never been, never had the opportunity to be; if it was paradise, then you were his. — The only one that mattered. — Coriolanus' mind begins to weaken and weigh down, feeling increasingly tired; wanting to bury himself deeper into your pussy.

Feeling your fingers on the back of his neck, you lightly run your nails over the area covered in sweat and hot, bringing a shiver to the young man's body. — Your still dazed and confused eyes watched Coriolanus swallow hard, so tense and almost collapsing. — Soon, falling apart inside you.

Your walls were filled with Coriolanus' warm seeds, such a pleasant sensation, feeling so full and yet so safe in his arms. — Making you actually forget where you were. — And you choke when you feel another movement of Coriolanus's hips, he was pushing his cum into you even more.

The young peacekeeper still felt tense, basking in you, and not wanting to leave the position he was in; still, completely, grabbed and pressed against your body. — Feeling the spasms of your body that gave him.

"Your first lady?" — You whispered, a little breathless but regaining normality in your breathing, still so tired as you ran a hand over Coriolanus's red and bright face. — He grunted, sucking his teeth and swallowing once again.

"My first lady." — He confirmed, determined, with his deep and still rough voice, trying to compose himself and pretend a completely non-existent naturalness and that at some point, during dawn, he will have to return to his filthy and reckless work.

The music continued, but the voice was unfamiliar and a little out of tune and the instrumentals were much noisier and out of control. — Lucy Gray ended her performance, it seemed, and gave entrance to another voice; perhaps, it was someone from the Covey singing in her place for a short period of time. — Sometimes they did that. — It wasn't strange, however, the house was full and so welcoming and she was a special attraction; the only.

Something wasn't right, or it was just an intrusive thought wanting to run through your heavy head. — Where had that girl gone, then?

Until, at a certain and coincidental moment, footsteps were made and echoed through the corridor, causing an unconditional and alarming noise from the shoes; which, in fact, were heels, probably worn out and so well used. — Everything indicated that the person had left, leaving the place but with witnesses of her shoes. — And this caused an acceleration in your heartbeat.

Perhaps, that would have answered your question.

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ssvnriseya · 3 months ago

Text

KEEP A SECRET (D.D.)

summary - daryl can't seem to get enough of the farmer's daughter, you.

warnings - MDNI 18+ very dark!daryl × innocent!reader, slight obsessive behavior, slight stalker behavior, manipulation, masturbation (m!), loss of virginity, unprotected p in v, baby trapping, age gap (reader is 20, daryl is mid 30's), intended lowercase.

note - OKAY, I'M SPOILING YOU ALL, THIS IS TOO MUCH SMUT?! IT TOOK ME A WEEK TO WRITE THIS, I'M SORRY! I WAS JUST SO BUSY; I COULD'VE FINISHED THIS IN TWO DAYS OR THREE IF I HADN'T BEEN BUSY. daryl's a bit of an asshole and dark at the end.

masterlist

you watched as a boy walked away from your sister, you smiled at him as he passed you.

he tried to smile back but failed immediately, the frown winning him over, he looked down the ground instead.

he walked away, shaking his head and tipping his hat off every now and then in frustration.

your face immediately converted into full worry as you glanced at your sister who seemed to be deep in thought.

you walked over to her slowly, the green grass beneath you falling as you stepped on them quite carefully.

the sky was as blue as it could get and it was a clear sunny day, and you loved it.

the trees danced with the wind softly as the birds living in them seemed to be singing along, chirping.

you smiled at maggie as you approached her. "hey." she greeted you, you beamed at her once again.

"maggie, was that glenn?" you asked in worry and wiggled your eyebrows at her, she shook her head giving you a small smile.

"just a crazy asian with a name." she responded, you nodded and continued looking for eggs at the chicken coops.

"well, i think the only thing about him crazy is about you." you replied back as you bent down to pick up an egg.

"trust me, he doesn't know what he wants, or what he is crazy about." she fought back, determined to make you know.

"i think he's old enough to know what he wants." you tried to defend the boy you hardly knew.

"you done there? how many eggs did nessie lay?" she changed the subject you looked at the chicken you and maggie, along with beth named a year before the apocalypse started.

"she's healthy... she has four babies." you said excited, you looked at maggie through your lashes and she groaned, looking away.

"no! you're not keeping one to raise as a pet!" she immediately shut your thought down even before you said them.

"just one? just one little chick?" you asked and pouted when she shook her head again.

"no." she said, her mind is settled on 'no chickens inside the house, baby or not!'

"but, it's gonna be so cute when it's hatched and grown a bit!" you exclaimed in excitement, imagining the chick running around the house.

"no..." she shook her head and said your full name making you pout, she really wasn't going to change her mind.

"i'll take care of it, feed it, and bathe it." you promised her, even holding your right hand up as a sign.

"and what will you feed it?" she raised an eyebrow at you, continuing to check the coop.

"my bread, i get two pieces every morning, i'll save one for it to eat the whole day." you planned slowly, not entirely sure.

"it's a baby." she pressed on and you nodded in agreement, you smiled at her.

"when you and glenn go on a run... w–will you get me a formula and the thing to feed it with? if you ever came across one, don't risk your life for it, okay?" you rambled to her.

"fine." she finally gave in, making you smile in delight. you beamed at her and hugged her so tight

"thank you, mags!" you kissed her cheeks and she smiled, she really loved making you happy.

"take care of it, okay? don't let it die." she reminded you sternly and you nodded.

"i see how glenn looks at you, maggie... i think he really likes you." you gave her a bright smile and handed her the basket full of eggs.

she didn't reply and checked the coops for more eggs, "no more eggs." she said.

she took the basket from you, "I'll check out the stables, you should go in." you told her sweetly.

she nodded and looked around, then she stopped her gaze before looking away after giving a nod.

you looked around but can't seem to find anyone. "was that glenn?" you asked her, your brows furrowed in confusion.

"no, take care at the stables. scream for help if anything happens." she said, care and worry evident in her voice.

"okay! i'm going to check out nervous nelly, i need to ease her nerves." you tried to joke and maggie rolled her eyes with a smile.

"careful." she warned one last time, you nodded and took a few steps back, waving at her happily.

"bye, maggie!" you shouted when she was far enough. she nodded and finally turned around and started walking to the house.

you turned around and walked to the stables slowly, humming to yourself.

you passed by a campsite rather far than the others, you stopped a bit and analyzed it.

it had squirrels hanging around a line and a tent that was beside a rock structure.

you walked forward, curiosity winning the best of you. your boots stopped outside the tent.

it was closed and you looked towards the house, which was quite far from here.

you heard grunts and moans inside suddenly making you wonder if it was one of your neighbors before the turn.

you kneeled by the soft green grass, your dress covering your knees from the rocks and dirts that may stick to your knees.

"hello?" you asked and waited for a response, then right after there was a string of curses.

then the tent opened, you stood up and took a few steps back for safety.

then a man came out, probably a lot older than you. he then scowled when he saw you.

"are you with mr. grimes?" you asked him politely and walked near him.

he didn't answer so you frowned, was he mute or deaf? you can't tell but you were sure he was very bothered with your presence.

you suddenly felt embarrassed, he was probably sleeping and you woke him up, at least you saved him from his nightmares, right?

"i'm sorry, did i wake you up?" you asked as you were the type of girl who really wants to know everything.

"doesn't matter." he grunted and you smiled, so he wasn't deaf or mute at all!

"i thought you were a walker 'cause you were groaning..." you confessed shyly.

his face turns red and looks away from you, why was he embarrassed? it isn't embarrassing to have nightmares, even you still have nightmares.

"was it nightmares? even though it isn't night anymore..." you asked him, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

he took a few seconds before hesitantly nodding, you spot a log near him and walked towards it, sitting.

"i have nightmares too, you don't have to be embarrassed about it. it's totally normal." you comforted him, squinting your eyes at him as you smiled.

"how'd ye end up here? isn't your daddy gon' come crazy lookin for ya?" he asked in a mocking manner.

"no, i told maggie that i'll be checking the stables for nelly, she's always nervous..." you said as you scratched your neck.

"the stables tha' way." he told you pointing at the stables, a bit of a distance from him.

"yeah, i know. i've lived here all my life." you told him in a matter-of-fact tone.

"so why are ye here?" he asked, you shook your head at him.

"i was just curious who stayed here, it's so far from the others. are you being bullied? do you want me to tell dadd—" you rambled.

"nah, i jus' like my space. no nosy neighbor or anythin'." he admitted.

"okay, i'll get going, i just check up on you." you smiled at him and stood up from the log.

he grunted in response, you turned around to walk to the stables but stopped.

you turned to face him again, you caught eye contact with him.

"wait! what's your name?" you asked him, eyebrows furrowed in curiousity once again.

"daryl... dixon." he told you, still hesitantly, as always.

"okay! i'll come visit you tomorrow mr. dixon!" you said cheerfully.

you waved at him, a bright smile on your face. you turned around and continued your way to your original destination.

you can feel his stare burning through your back but you ignored it, was he so angry he was burning holes into you?

"daddy? who's been shot?" you asked as you went down the stairs rubbing your eyes.

your sister, beth, woke you up and said that someone has been shot, only a graze in the head and your daddy's already fixed it.

"who told you?" maggie asked as she handed you your cup of coffee, you took it with a smile and a good morning.

"beth, she woke me up." you said and maggie nodded.

"it's daryl." maggie responded to you for your father, seeing that her dad, your dad, who is also beth's dad is busy checking the medication stock.

"the one near the barn?" you asked her as you took a sip of the coffee, taking a seat on the counter as you played with the hem of your night dress.

"i guess so." maggie replied, finishing off her bread. then you remembered something.

"hey, where's my chick?" you asked her, jumping off the counter and scanning the cupboards for the eggs, ready to take one.

"what chick?" your dad butted in, having finished with checking the stocks.

"maggie told me yes, daddy." you quickly defended, still not explaining.

"told her she could keep an egg to raise, as long as she keeps it alive." maggie said.

you beamed at your daddy, plastering on your most charming and pleading eyes.

"you know i can't say no to you." your dad chuckled and shook his head.

"i know, daddy." you hugged him as he kissed the top of your head, ruffling it.

"are you coming with beth, maggie, patricia and jim for gun training?" your dad asked as you backed away from the hug.

"i don't feel like it today, daddy... not after beth interrupted my sleep." you glanced at your younger sister, teasing her.

"alright." he said with a huff, making you pout.

"is that okay with you, daddy?" you asked him for permission, he nodded once again.

"that's alright with me." he said, you smiled at him as you got back to your coffee.

"who's the ones staying behind?" you asked your older sister as you swing your legs back and forth.

"just you and daddy." she said, glancing out the window a little longer than a second.

"okay." you shrugged.

she glanced out the window again and kept on repeating it, making you worried for her.

"are you alright, do you see any walkers?" you asked her as you went near the window to take a glance.

she tried to stop you but it was already too late, you had already seen it.

"oh." you said and smiled at her, it was glenn having breakfast with the others who were living outside their house.

"you're so whipped for him, did something happen between you?" you asked her as you took a step back.

she turned red and avoided your gaze, you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

"did he hurt you?" you immediately asked your older sister as you were worried for her.

she shook her head, placing her empty cup on the sink.

"okay. i think i'll go check up on mr. dixon." you told her as you finished the rest of your coffee, placing it down on the counter.

she nodded and waved you off, you smiled and took a few steps back, before turning around and rushing upstairs.

you scanned the first guest room and saw that there was no one, so you closed it.

you took a few steps towards the second door and knocked on it softly.

you opened the door and found the man you were looking for, you smiled at him as he glanced at you.

"how are you feeling?" you asked as you walked towards him, gently closing the door behind you.

you sat at the side of the bed as you checked him, he looked pretty bruised.

you let the back of your hand feel his temperature, he flinched but didn't say anything else.

"as shitty as i look." he responded as he gazed up the ceiling, ignoring the aching pain in his head.

"i'm sure andrea didn't mean it, she thought you were one of them so she tried to shoot you to protect everyone else in this camp." you explained to him what you see in the situation.

he grunted, "sure she didn't." you frowned and nodded then gazed around the room.

"this is my favorite room." you told him as you analyzed him, from the bandages on his head to the dirts on his face and tattoos on his muscular chest.

"you've got two rooms?" he asked rather harshly, he can't blame himself as he's grown to always share things and the girl in front of him has two rooms.

"no, silly. i like to stay here when i'm feeling sad... i love the view by that window, you should check it before you guys find sophia and leave..." you smiled at him, the smile never faltering.

"ya want us to leave already?" he asked and you turned red, embarrassed.

"n—no! i kind of love having you guys here, it's not boring as before..." you told him as you fidgeted with your fingers.

"jus' teasin' ye." he smirked at you, making you sighed out in relief.

"what's your job before all of this?" you asked him as you put the rest of your body up the bed.

you crawled over to the head of the bed and laid your back against the headboard.

"what ye doin'?" he asked as he watched your every movement, you can feel his heated gaze at your skin.

"i'm sitting..." you stated the obvious and he groaned, deciding to let it go.

"so what's your job?" you asked him as you reached out to touch his hair.

he snapped his eyes at you making you giggle and pull away from him, pretending to do something else.

"jus' everything, as long as it gives money." he stated, his voice cold making you feel guilty.

it must have been bad memories and you had the audacity to bring it up.

"sorry, i didn't know it was a sensitive topic to you." you admitted as you laid down the bed.

you still kept a fair distance between the both of you as you laid in your back.

you turned to your side, facing him as he was still facing the ceiling.

"it wasn't." he argued making you nod, not truly believing the two words coming out of his mouth.

"have you had breakfast?" you asked him as you gazed at his side profile.

"'m not hungry." he told you, you still didn't believe him. you sat up and slide down the bed, getting on your feet.

"i'll make you something to eat." you told him as you smiled, walking towards the door, opening it as you went outside and closing it.

once you went outside to make him something to eat, he immediately darted his hand at his chest, breathing heavily.

"fuck." he cursed as he can feel his jeans tightening. he tried to shift it but failed miserably.

he had to make this quick if he doesn't want you to notice when you come back, or catch him on the act.

he shifted slightly, going up the bed and sitting up, back against the headboard.

he feels guilty, he wants to stop himself as he's having forbidden thoughts about you.

he was almost caught by you yesterday when you went to his little campsite.

he was jerking off, to the thought of you. he felt an invisible string of attraction when he saw you when they first arrived.

he loved the way you smiled at each one of them even though you hardly knew them.

he loved you in your cute dresses, almost as if teasing him with the below knee length.

everything you did had a meaning to him, with you going to check up on him and laying in bed with him.

he absolutely loved the feeling of your hand on his forehead when you checked his temperature.

call him obsessed but he grabbed the part of comforter you sat on.

he brought it to his face, sniffing it and immediately relaxing to the smell of you.

to the smell of honey and candy. he hates sweet smells but when it comes to you, he's totally head over heels for it.

he slowly unbuckled his belt and took it off, shifting with the buttons of his jeans as he slipped the zipper off.

he lifted his hips slightly as he lowered his jeans just below the butt.

he grabbed his semi-hard cock as he groaned just when he touched it.

he tried thinking of other things, imagining two people having sex or the pornographic photos merle showed him.

but his mind left drifting back to you, you and your cute dresses that had no intentions of teasing him ever intentionally.

the way you bent over to pick eggs from the chicken coop, showing a little bit of your legs.

he felt like a victorian man seeing some ankles, but instead he saw your legs.

it's not much but he gets a hard on when he glances at your milky white legs.

he raised his hand up and down as he threw his head back, he imagined the way your pretty little mouth would fit his cock in.

he could tell he would have a hard time fitting it in, if ever you and him happened.

he can picture you being a moaning mess beneath him as you cried his name in pleasure.

you, begging him to go faster as your nearing, you, clenching the sheets as you come all over his cock.

the way your breasts would wiggle when he thrusts into you from above and from behind.

he can see the way your cunt hugs around his cock as he had a hard time thrusting in.

but due to the pre-cum from both of you he will start having it easy but still hard due to your tight cunt.

he kept pumping his cock on his hand as he raised his hips, he then imagined fucking you over the window as you glanced at the beautiful view outside.

he stifled a moan when he moved his hands faster, then after a few seconds his hands was covered with his warm white liquid.

he could hear a slight shuffle as he wiped his hands on the towel on the bedside table, he stuffed his cock back in his jeans, fastening it and buckling his belt back.

he wiped his hands on the comforter, if it ever had any liquid left then covered half of his body with the comforter.

then just a minute later, the door opened, revealing you carrying a tray with a bright smile.

"here, coffee and bacon..." you placed the tray beside him as you took a chair and sat next to him.

"y'want?" he asked as he chewed on the bacon, you shook your head.

"daddy is busy, he's busy with carl." you told him as you stood up from the chair, going to one of the cupboard.

"so what?" he asked as he took a sip of his coffee, still chewing on the bacon.

"i'll be your nurse today, isn't that great? i'll get to know you more, mr. dixon." you smiled at him, turning your head back as you rummaged through the things inside.

you grabbed a roll of bandage and a few ointments for him, "better." he whispered under his breath as he tried to avert his eyes from the way your dress rose every time you stood on your tippy toes to reach inside the cupboard.

"i'll change your bandages, they must be covered in your blood." you told him as you closed the cupboard, going back to sit at the chair beside him.

"you should finish that first and i'll give you pain killers." you told him as he nodded, drinking the rest of his coffee.

he set the tray aside as you popped open the organizer, giving him a pain killer.

he took it and drank it with the water you brought earlier, you started assisting him to sitting up straighter.

you slowly took off his bandage as you looked across his back, "it's beautiful." you assured him when he tried to shift away from your touch.

"no scars are beautiful." he argued, hating that you lied to him to make him feel better.

"well, yours are. it shows that you survived that stage of life. i like your tattoos too, does it hurt?" you asked him as you wiped his back.

"when ye get 'em, and fer the first few weeks." he responded with a grunt as you stopped cleaning his back.

"i don't think i'll find someone who still does tattoos." you squint your eyes as you started opening the cap of the ointment.

you applied some to his side gently as he flinched every now and then.

"trust me, ye don't wanna get one." he groaned as he flinched away from your touch.

you pulled away from him as you placed the cap back of the ointment.

you took the bandage, "okay, tell me if it's too tight." you said as you looked at him.

he looked away before he could think about anything else dirty on your sentence.

he simply nodded and raised his arms a bit as you wrapped your arms around him.

you placed the end of the bandage on his back as you circled the bandage, wrapping him.

your touch burned him but he didn't dare say anything else, he simply enjoyed the feelings of your small hands on him.

you finished wrapping his torso in bandage, you set it aside as you sealed the bandage.

"i-i... saw you earlier." you admitted, cheeks red as you stared at the bed.

"w-what?" he stuttered, hoping that you didn't catch him masturbating and moaning your name.

"you were s-saying my name... and you were touching the thing here." you pointed at his bulge as you looked at his eyes.

your blush darkened when you made eye contact with him, his eyes darkened as he looked at your flustered form.

"i... was just trying to make my pain go away." he lied as he looked away from you.

"oh... i learned that, my classmate told me they do that and release a white cream once they feel better." you told him with interest.

"yeah..." he went along as he nodded immediately, he can feel himself growing hard again so he placed a pillow on top.

"are you feeling pain again?" you asked him as your eyes filled with worry.

"y-yeah." he hesitated, she went near him as she touched his forehead.

"i'll make you feel better, daddy told me to take care of you." you sat on the heels of your feet.

"you should." he didn't know where his confidence came from but he used it.

"okay... i-i don't know how to start." you admitted, looking up at him as you fidgeted with your fingers.

"take off my jeans." he told her softly, she followed what he said and soon slipped his jeans off his legs.

"i'll make you feel better, mr. dixon... i promise." you smiled at him reassuringly.

you place two hands to wrap around his angry cock, you stare at it with amusement.

it was your first time seeing one, except for the drawings in schools that's presented in science.

"i-is all this big?" you asked as you can't even wrap a hand on him.

"no, baby." he caressed your jaw as you nodded, you copied his actions moments earlier.

you stroke his cock carefully, watching his face contort into pleasure as he closed his eyes.

"are you starting to feel better, mr. dixon?" you asked as you continued stroking his length.

"yes..." he nodded as he gripped the headboards, opening his eyes to see you looking at him with a smile.

you continued moving your hand up and down as he held back a quiet moan, in case hershel heard.

his cock twitched as you stared at it weirdly, it's veins were more prominent and his tip is red.

he was most likely ten inches long or maybe more, he was very thick.

"it feels good... baby." he moaned as he thrust his cock into your hand.

"tell me once you feel better, okay?" you asked him as you stroked him faster.

his cock twitches one more time before his cum rushes down and drips down your hand.

he moaned heavily as he panted, coming down from his high.

"i did it! i made you feel better!" you exclaimed in happiness, not really minding the white liquid covering your hand.

"yes, baby. you did." he smiled as he ruffles your hair, he had an idea as he bit his lips.

"you need to drink my white cream, you might have been infected and that white cream is like a medicine." he said without an ounce of guilt.

you stared at him weirdly once again as he nodded encouragely at you.

you nodded and bent down to face his lower abdomen, you licked his stomach and upper leg as you tried to kick every of his cum that you see.

you also looked at him as you licked your hand, you sucked one of your fingers into your mouth, pulling it out then the other one.

he groaned and almost cum again without contact, just the sight of you like that or even just with your hands on him can almost make him cum.

"it... tastes weird." you told him truthfully as you fidgeted with your fingers.

"what's that? you know that is very disrespectful?" he told you as your eyes went wide.

"i—i didn't know, i'm sorry..." you told him quickly as you shifted.

"you should be grateful for whatever i give you, 'ight?" he held your chin as he studied every inch of your face.

"y—yes." you nodded slowly, completely submitting to him, he smiled at that.

daryl patted your head as he lifted you into his lap, you shifted on top of him comfortably as you looked at his eyes.

he groaned when his tip came in contact with your clothed cunt.

"you feel good, baby?" he asked when you grind onto him for unknown reasons to you.

you nodded as he held your hips to stop you from moving any further.

you felt bliss when his tip was just touching your cunt, you have to feel more.

you want to feel more of him, you want to feel good and you also want him to feel good.

"use your words, sweetheart." he let out a low groan as his grip tightens on your hip.

you whimpered as you tried to form a proper sentence without stuttering or stumbling with your words.

"y—yes, mr. dixon." you nodded as you tried to fight his grip by moving to grind onto him.

"no, baby..." he told you, he scolded you as if you're a little girl who needs a punishment.

"you can't call me, mr... if you want me to make you feel good." he slowly talked to you, like talking to a little girl.

you nodded, "what should i call you? what will i call you?" you asked him as you try to grind onto him.

"daryl..." he teased you, moaning slightly as he said his own name.

you blushed as you took in his name, "daryl." you tried and looked at his eyes.

"it would be weird, da... daddy would be mad if he knew i called an older person by their name, he told me to always be respectful..." you told him what hershel taught you.

"well, your daddy doesn't have to know." he told you as he caressed your hips by his thumb.

"i... can't keep secrets." you told him, looking up at him. he was a lot taller than you even when he was seated with you on his lap.

"well, you have to... or else your daddy and i will be mad at you, do you want that?" he asked as he tapped his thumb onto your hips.

"no... i don't want someone mad at me." you shook your head as you looked down.

you blushed when you saw his erected cock, his tip was touching your clothed cunt.

your dress has lifted a bit when he sat you on his lap, the dress was in your hips, showing your legs and underwear.

"then let's keep this a secret, 'ight?" he leaned closer, pressing his tip into you harder.

you whimpered and nodded your head, he softened his grip on your hips as you stayed in place.

"a-are we going to do sex?" you asked him as you placed your hands on his chest. you played with his chest as you looked back and up at him.

"no, baby. we're going to make love." daryl told you, his eyes glinting with mischief.

"but we don't love each other." you told him sheepishly as you looked back at his chest. you admired his tattoos in awe as you traced them softly.

"i love you, and you will love me back after this." he told you firmly as he caressed your hair.

"o—kay..." you said, believing him. your daddy told you to always open your heart.

he leaned in and placed his lips onto yours, you blushed as you didn't know what to do.

you closed your eyes as he kissed you, he placed his grip onto your waist.

he kissed you softly as he bit your lip, you whimpered in pain as he took it as an opportunity to enter his tongue in.

you unconsciously put your arms around his neck as you started to follow his movements.

you tried to kiss him back as you moaned when he sucked on your lower lip.

you were almost embarrassed for the sounds you were making as he kissed you.

you grind your hips onto him unconsciously as you kissed, he sucked on your tongue and lower lip every now and then.

he let you grind your hips into him as you whimpered, you felt good and you want more.

"i-i'm sorry, daryl... but, i want more." you started after you pulled away from him, you tried to also catch your breath.

you were sorry because he just told you earlier how disrespectful it is to not appreciate what you were given.

he smirked and caressed your waist and hair, "you do? what do you want?"

"i feel good, but i want to feel more good..." you told him as you pouted and looked into his eyes.

"do you want daryl in your princess part?" he told you as you nodded, you didn't know what princess part is but you just nodded.

"do you know what that is?" he asked you, you shook your head shyly.

he let out a low chuckled as he let go of your hair he let his hands wander between your thighs as you whimpered.

he caressed it, "this is your princess part, baby." he told you, you didn't say anything as you whimpered, trying to grind onto his hand.

"that's my vagina..." you told him as you so desperately tried grinding onto him.

"no, it's princess part for you, 'right?" he said and slapped your princess part.

you whimpered and nodded, "it's my princess part." you told him as he grinned.

"how bad do you want it, sweetheart?" he asked as he slowly took off your panties.

"so... bad." you whined as you got off his lap and took off your own panties.

you got back on his lap, sitting directly on his cock as you moaned softly.

he teased your entrance as he slid his cock up and down your slit.

"you ready?" he asked and you nodded slowly, you were nervous, it was your first time.

you can't think about anything else, you didn't care if your daddy will get angry if he found out.

you just want daryl, you want to feel good and make love with him.

"i-i'll get pregnant..." you told him worriedly as you placed your hands on his shoulder.

he didn't respond and you gulped, he turned your positions so he was on top of you.

"so wet already?" he tapped his tip into your slit as he teased you.

you nodded, you can feel the wetness on your leg dripping down earlier.

it wasn't the first time you felt like that... you felt it whenever you catch maggie watching pornographic movies.

you felt guilty and confused why you got wet when you also watched the movie secretly.

you immediately went into your room that night and just slept it off.

daryl adjusted his cock into your entrance as he slowly slid in, you gasped in pain as you gripped onto his shoulders.

"daryl... i-i can't, it hurts." you cried as a tear slid down your face.

"it's okay, baby... it's just for a minute or so, everyone experiences this on their first time, it's normal." he told you, wiping your tears.

you nodded and sniffled, it was the truth, you heard your female classmates talking about their first time hurting.

but what isn't normal is the size of daryl's cock, it was beyond the average size.

it added to the pain you were feeling, you felt stretched out even if it was just his tip in you.

you closed your eyes in pain when he pushed a part of him in again. you took deep breaths and tried to calm your self.

"it still hurts..." you told him softly, opening your eyes and looking at him.

he felt a tug at his heart when you looked at him and when he looked at your eyes.

daryl wiped your tears again as he shush you. "it's okay, it'll hurt even more when i pull out."

you pouted but nodded, you wanted this too so you just have to suck it up.

he pushed another part of him in and you just whispered to yourself.

"why are you so big... i—is that normal?" you asked him, glaring at the ceiling.

he just chuckled, he whispered something incoherently to you before pushing the rest of his length in.

"dar—" you shouted in pain but he put his hand onto your mouth, he wiped your tears.

"it's okay..." he slowly told you as he pulled out just to go back in.

you can feel the sudden shift of emotions, you moaned in pleasure and pain the fifth time he slammed into you.

"feels good?" he asked you as he pounded into you, gently then roughly.

"daryl..." you moaned loudly as he pumped in and out, you whimpered.

"stay quiet, your daddy will hear ye'." he whispered to your ear.

you bit down on your lip to stop your loud moans, that even porn models would be jealous of.

daryl loved your moans but it was what would get the both of you caught.

he looked down where both of you meet, your cunt was better than he dreamt of.

your cunt was hugging his cock so tight that his imagination would be so ashamed.

"daryl..." you moaned lowly as he continued his pace, you kissed him as he roughly pumped into you.

"this princess part is mine, got it?" he asked as he slowed his pace.

"daryl— faster!" you bit your lip as you begged him to pick up his pace again.

"got it?" he asked and you nodded, "words, sweetheart." he whispered into your ear.

"yes... it's yours! please— daryl..." you moaned softly as he fastened his pace again.

he can feel you clench around him and he started slowing down just to go faster.

"i-i feel something weird on my tummy... daryl!" you moaned as you squirmed.

"let it out, baby... cum on my cock." he told you as you both can only hear the sound of sound slapping against each other.

you did as he told and let it out, whatever you were feeling on your stomach..

you came as daryl continued pounding onto your cunt relentlessly.

"i would make love to you from day to night if it wasn't your first time, baby..." he whispered.

you were feeling so sensitive that every time he came in contact with your princess part, you messily moaned.

"i-i feel it again..." you said quickly, it hasn't even been a minute since your last release.

daryl was so quick and rough that you came once again, you whimpered as daryl groaned and growled into your ears.

"i'm coming, baby." he muttered under his breath, "i'm cumming inside you."

"i-i'll get pregnant—" you tried to say but was interrupted by your own moan.

you tried protesting but he whispered soft things to your ear.

"i'll take care of you both..." he assured you as he fastened his pace.

"i'll keep stuffing my babies into you so you can never be taken away from me..." he told you.

you nodded, it was a promising life. it was your dream to have your own family someday.

you didn't know if your daddy would be happy with having a grandchild already.

"i'll show the boys interested to you that you're mine and you're carrying my baby..." he moaned.

"y-yes! okay..." you nodded as he thrust into you, you felt attracted to him and you thought it was enough to start a family of your own with him.

you didn't know again what your daddy would feel if you had a family of your own before your older sister, maggie.

"fuck... 'm goin' to cum inside ye'." he told you and his thrust turn sloppy as you can feel warm liquid gush into you.

you whimpered softly as he pulled out his cock. he was still hard even if you were already done.

you can feel your own cum mixed with daryl's cum trickle out of you slowly.

you tried to catch your breath as you pulled down your dress.

"i love ye'..." daryl whispered to you as he stuffed his cum back into you.

you didn't respond and closed your eyes, laying your head on the soft pillow.

you can feel a bit of guilt and regret that you let him cum inside you.

you started to doubt if it was a good idea to let him cum inside you.

you weren't even sure if you were ready to start a family as sure as you were earlier.

"i—i... don't think i want a child at this time..." you told him innocently and softly.

you can't imagine raising a child during an apocalypse where every breath you make is a risk.

"you can't do anything about it... i already came inside you, you're going to carry our child, hm?" he hugged you as he caressed your hair.

you didn't know what to do.

#daryl x reader #daryldixon #twd #twd daryl dixon #twd fanfiction #daryl twd #daryl dixon smut #ssvnriseya #irawrites

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jasminumdew · 4 months ago

Text

Bear! Price in his mating season

Warning: minors do not interact

Tags: bear shifter, p in v, knotting, breeding, hurt, comfort

Word count: 720

When there’s not much to do in the morning, you usually go on the morning walk with John. Sometimes he’ll agree to let you sit on his back and go out to the woods in his bear form. You always enjoy those days, to be able to breathe in the fresh air and see the leaves and flowers covered by the morning dew, hearing the early birds’ singing fill the area. But today you didn’t seem to pay any attention to those.

You’ve been trying your best to ignore how your cunt keeps leaking, and how his back muscle brushes through your clit lightly when he moves, making you clench on nothing. Only 15 minutes in the woods and you already want to push him down right here and ride his thick fat cock. And John knew, his nose told him all what he needed to know and he decided today’s the perfect day to breed your fertile womb. Now when you’re so ready for his seeds, actively grinding on his back, he can barely control himself.

“Get down”

His voice so stern it scares you for a sec, you climb down, cupping his face in your hands. “Is there something wrong, love?” you asked, looking down at him. But he only takes a step back and returns to his human form, eyes hungry like he wants to eat you alive, cause he’s about to, with his fully erect cock and tip already leaking out. He breathes in your sweet arousal scent while approaching you. Before you know it, your back is pressed to a tree trunk, thighs squeezing together to ease the throbbing, only for him to scoops you up, legs wrap around his thick abdomen, his cock pressed against your needy cunt, making it oozes more nectar.

“Why are you acting so shy now, love? You didn’t seem shy rubbing your sweet scent on my back just a few minutes ago”

You hide your reddish face on his neck, taking in his musky scent. “I didn’t mean to. You were moving…weird and I’m ovulating today so I..”. John bites down on your neck, making you yelp and cut out your words: “It’s fine, darling. I understand. I’ll make you feel better now”.

Immediately, he guides his cock into your warm pussy and fills you up to the brim. His mouth sucking and nibbling on your neck then moves down to suck on your sensitive bud while his hand caresses the other. The forest seems to quiet down, and John only hears the sound of you whimpering his name. When you reach down to rub your clit, his hand which was playing with your buds now pushes your hand out to flick your pearl. You cry out, the velvety wall squeezes like it wants to milk him right then and there, the fire in your lower abdomen finally burns you whole when John thrusts up to your cervix wall.

Too drunk on your pussy, he couldn’t resist the urge to put his seeds into you and make you the mother of his cubs, his bear form slips and accidentally knots your bodies together. He grunts, feeling how stretched your cunt now is, and how your nails dig deep into his arms. Then the tears in your eyes pull him back to reality. You haven’t taken his knot before, gosh it must be hurt, it hurts him too seeing tears keep pouring down your chin. He lies down carefully so his knot doesn’t hurt you more, letting you rest on his chest. “You alright, love? I’m sorry, darlin’. I wasn’t thinking clearly” he strokes your wet cheek “Does it hurt too much?”

You sniff “It’s better now. It’s fine, keep going baby”. He doesn’t reply, instead he just wipes your tears away, watching your expression until you seem relaxed, then he slides his hand down to play with your swollen clit until you grind on his knot and beg for him to move. John pulls you down to kiss your face lovingly, his thrust slower and gentler than ever, pulling another orgasm out of you before releasing inside your abused cunt.

Maybe this is another reason you enjoy your morning walk.

Note: he looks so cute I want to suck his c

#who said that??#captain price #john price #captain john price #bear price #john price x reader #john price cod

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dutiful-wildcraft · 4 months ago

Text

Restoration Worship

Nikolai x Fat F! Reader Tags: monsterfucking, gargoyles, dubcon, overstimulation, tail sex, anal play, double penetration, squirting, cunnilingus, p in v, dirty talk. I think thats about it, I think yall should know by now that every reader I write is fat, blacked out and wrote 3K words of gargoyle smut sooo… enjoy!

It had begun as a research effort, a little trip to the cemetery to hopefully procure some interesting insight into a little project she’d been working on for the museum. Eyes scanning over lichen covered graves and cracked mausoleums, words long faded in time.

She’d seen the videos before. Kind strangers brushing away years of decay with a brush and patience. Who would we be without the knowledge from our predecessors after all?

So with a passion for restoration and a need for busy hands she set to work, uncovering gracious prayers and one of the best cookie recipes she’d ever tasted set within the worn stone.

It’s months before she comes across him. He’s a big boy, covered in lichen and the webs of spiders, stone stained heavily from the elements. Sharp claws curl into the pedestal he hunkers on, broad wings curled against his back, stone teeth bared in warning.

Even like this he’s beautiful, strong features carved delicately in tarnished marble.

She’d found her next project.

A decade had passed since death had been at Nikolai’s doorstep, when he’d let the stone take him, closed himself off from the world to rest after an egregious injury. He’d watched over the lowly cemetery with weak eyes, until they too became covered. Until he’d lost himself to the void, consciousness falling into inky blackness as he waited amongst the trees.

That is, until her.

His days had shifted from the chittering of squirrels and bird song to an incessant chatter. A soft english lilt that stirred something in his hazy mind. He likes the english. Past visions of old friends flash in his mind, warm dark skin, cigars, a mask made of bone.

How could he forget?

He strains, willing his senses back to life, listens harder for the soft voice amongst the tombstones.

She talks to the dead, chattering away at graves that will never speak back to her. This graveyard is old, quiet, its occupants long passed over after they stopped burying the dead here, when their loved ones had long passed on themselves.

She asks them questions, makes up stories, tells them about her day. She’s a museum conservator and she brings things back to life all the time. Making them shiny and new, loving them through hard work and careful hands so that others may get to love them too.

And when she’s not talking she’s humming, or singing so off tune that even the birds grumble. But she’s laughing at herself, looking up songs from the years written on the graves and playing those too, a little tune the deceased might be familiar with.

Her voice bounces from grave to grave, and he realizes she’s cleaning them, scrubbing the dirt away and bidding them adieu when her task is finished.

Sweet thing, he muses, wishing he could see her, wishing she would bring him to life too.

His dream comes true on a sunny afternoon, the summer rays warming his stone, waking him just a little more.

She’s close, footsteps rustling the leaves at his feet as she circles him.

“You keep watch don’t you?” she asks him seriously, and she’s right there. So close he can smell her, like blueberries and vanilla sugar, it’d make his mouth water if he could just move.

She speaks again, but he can barely register the words as warm gentle hands clear the infinite dark from his field of view. Brushing away vines and lichen.

“There! That’s better!”

And there she is. A big soft girl, with sweet round cheeks flushed from the heat. He needs to hold her, crush her close and reward her for her kindness, but she’s gone just as quickly, promising to return to clean him properly, and his marble heart warms at the thought. He commits her form to memory, watching her soft braids sway against her back as she leaves.

A longing seeping deep into his marrow as he lets the sleep take him again.

She returns the following weekend, small spray rig and gentle cleaner in hand when she finds him again. She’s mindful, soft hands gently tugging at his limbs to test the durability before ambling her soft body onto his platform. It’s wonderful, to finally feel the heat of another against his skin, and he thinks if the sun weren’t touching him he could come to life now, tackle her into the soft grass and ravish her. He knows she’d be so sweet, whimpering and mewling under his touch.

It would wait for another time.

She works from the top down, soaking him with warm water before scrubbing him with soft bristle brushes. She’s delicate, leaning her soft body against his as she cleans, washing away years of dirt and moss. She scrubs behind his ears, in the bend of his horns, clearing the nests of insects from between his teeth. He revels in the feel of her, soft breasts and belly pressed to his skin, gentle hands stroking over the sensitive margins of his wings. Had he been mobile he’d be purring, with spread wings and stiff cock all over some gentle petting.

He mourns when she leaves, water cooling against his stone as she packs up before nightfall.

But it gives him time to practice.

It takes days, weeks, before he can move under the cover of night, limbs coming to life sluggishly, the world becoming more clear to his dulled senses.

She returns like clockwork, spending the afternoons with him, chatting and humming, leaning against his platform as she eats her lunch.

He can’t move far, just a few movements, but he gets greedy, finally willing his wings to open, letting them stretch pleasantly in the cool night air and freeze there when the sun freezes him again.

She’s a bit startled when she returns, eyeing him with confusion and the broad reptilian wings spread proudly behind his back. Come closer love, they’ve always been this way.

Nevertheless she scrubs those too, warm hands petting over the webbing, ghost along the modified fingers of his wings. He has half a mind to wallow in the night, cover himself in more dirt if only to keep her trips regular. But he knows his time is coming to an end when she dusts away the last leaves from his pedestal.

She has a final rest with him, his sweet keeper perched at his feet as she watches the sun disappear behind the trees.

And finally, finally. As the soft light of the moon kisses his skin, he greets her.

“Hello solnyshka” he purrs, voice low and gravely, amusement crinkling pupil-less eyes, as he watches her nearly jump out of her skin. Scrambling away and whirling to take a look at the massive gargoyle. He can see now, really see, and she’s lovely. Freckles dusting round cheeks, bulky denim and cotton hiding big soft curves underneath.

She’s frozen, staring at him with wide eyes. He stretches, not unlike a cat, trembling slightly with the effort as he spreads his wings, lifts his hands above his head to crack his own spine, shaking away the stiffness from his tired bones. He relaxes again, smiling at her fondly, revealing sharp fangs underneath.

“I’m grateful for your work.” he calls again, taking a slow step off of his platform, clawed feet digging into the earth below. He is truly, his new keeper being the first ray of sun to truly grace his skin in decades. Just the light he needed to wake him from his slumber. He needs to hold her, feel her softness under his claws.

She swallows, clasping trembling hands in front of her.

“I didn’t mean to be a bother, sir”

Sir.

He purrs at the honorific, but why did she think she was a bother? Had she not heard him?

“Not a bother, you’ve “restored” me” he chuckles, “quite well too” he adds looking over his limbs as he eases closer. “Call me Kolya.”

She repeats it, mimicking the accent just right, and being the polite thing she is, she gives him her name in return. It melts in his mouth like sugar, His pretty prize unaware of the hold she’s given him with just her name alone.

“Come here, let me have a look at you”

She hesitates a moment before inching towards him, and he meets her halfway with a long stride, chin to his chest as he looks her up and down. His poor thing is so nervous. Fidgeting under his gaze, pulling, pushing and twisting at the joints of her fingers, desperate to get them to pop, to alleviate some of the tension in her body.

He takes her hand in his, sliding a claw between her fingers to shake them loose, letting her soft little hand curl around his own. He dwarfs her, already half-hard with just her palm in his. He moves her carefully, flipping her hand over to trace a dark claw over the sensitive lines of her palm drawing a small shiver from her that has his cock twitching in interest.

He continues, gliding his fingers up her arm, over her shoulder, toying briefly with the denim strap of her overalls. She’s bashful, keeping her eyes averted, a hot flush to her cheeks as he looks her over.

“None of that” he chides, sliding his fingers beneath her chin, tilting her back. Her lips part, pupils blown as he smiles down at her, some of her nervousness melting away as he handles her so gently. “So pretty, daragaya” and the stars in her eyes as he praises her break what little self control he has left.

He’s quick, catching her round face in both hands and bending low, pressing a hungry kiss to her lips. She squirms briefly, hands flying up to grip his wrists in panic, he curls a tail around her calf, holding her neatly in place as he licks into her mouth, earning a soft gasp from his keeper as her lips part for him.

Good gods, she even tastes sweet.

He purrs happily into her mouth, savoring the taste of her flavored chapstick, the end of his tail flickering happily, brushing the soft curve of her ass. She’s panting now, a soft little whine bubbling from her throat at the contact. He dives low, licking a stripe across her jaw, reveling in the salt of her skin before nibbling and kissing his way down her throat, clawed fingers easily popping the cheap metal clasps of her outfit, pushing the denim away before yanking off the extra cotton shirt underneath.

Nikolai thinks it should be forbidden for such soft curves to be hidden like that. She’s a vision, an angel with the most beautiful soft curves, and when he has her back in his den he’ll dress her in the finest silks and jewelry, pretty chains to hug her waist, dangle nicely between her breasts. Highlight all his favorite parts. He might even keep her bare, just for his eyes to see.

She shivers in the cold, using her arms to cover her breasts as best as she could, eyes averted from his hungry gaze. Why did she hide from him? There should be paintings of her, statues in her image. She was perfect. So warm and soft, he kneaded at the handles at her hips, clawed fingers tracing over the soft swell of her belly, the rolls at her sides, skin hot beneath his fingers. He huffs, snagging her wrists and holding them well above her head, using the extra digits at the ends of his wings to hold her there, pulled taught and vulnerable beneath his gaze.

With a sharp claw he rips away the scrap of fabric that covered her chest, large hands palming them eagerly, nipples pebbling under the warm drag of his thumbs. He hums, pinching and pulling at her perfect little tits, hard cock nudging incessantly at her belly, leaving glistening webs of pre-cum over her skin as she whimpers and gasps.

“Kolya” she whines as he drags a hot tongue over her soft peaks, flicking his tongue over her pert skin before drawing a nipple into his mouth, nibbling and suckleing greedily. He breaks away, grinning up at her, sinking his teeth into the meat of her breast cheekily. She squirms, eyes squeezed tight and teeth dug into her plump lip as she tries halfheartedly to escape him. Though the wiggling only gives her tits a lovely jiggle that has him diving in again, nipping at her nipple just to earn himself another squeal.

He kisses over the skin in a gentle apology before sliding down her belly, pressing a trail of hot kisses there before he reaches the seam of her panties, cute little curls peaking out around the edges at her thighs. He marvels at the dark stain of her arousal, pressing his nose into the soaked fabric and breathing deep. She bucks against his face, squirming madly to get some kind friction. Not so demure now are you?

“I’ll take care of you greedy girl, patience.” he warns, tail patting her ass fondly as he drags his tongue along the sodden fabric. He rips those away too, thick tongue sliding against her folds with little preamble, the resounding moan like music to his ears. Using his tail to tug her legs further apart, he lavishes her in earnest, slurping at her cunt like a beast, using his thumbs to spready her puffy lips apart. She’s heaven, sweet and tangy on his tongue, and he would stay here for hours, drinking her down until her legs gave out and then taking more.

He sinks his tongue inside, licking into her tight heat as his nose brushes against her clit, humming wickedly as she cries and bucks. He takes control, dragging his claws up to grip her hips, guiding her into a nice and easy rhythm against his face. He loves every minute of it, reveling in the drag of her soaked folds against his tongue, the broken whines as he breaks away to suck her clit. He drags her to the edge over and over, fucking his tongue back into her wet heat and nosing at her sensitive nerves until she’s gushing against his face with a choked cry.

“So good, solnyshka” he praises, sitting back on his haunches to admire his work. He leans in, licking a hot stripe up her thigh, catching the errant rivulets of slick as they drip from her.

“So wet, I bet we can make a bigger mess can’t we?” he purrs, dragging his knuckles against the soaked seam of her sex, drawing a tired whimper from her. She sags against his hold, chest flushed, and thighs soaked. He could devour her whole like this.

He releases her, lifting her spent body into his arms, easing her down onto the clean pedestal that was once his. Pushing her legs apart he slides between them, sliding his neglected cock over her folds, using his tip to rub at her sensitive clit before sliding it along her body. He’s thick, head tapered to a near point, thick ridges rippling along underside of his shaft for a textured drag. Heavy balls kiss the seam of her sex as he rests there, tip drooling against her stomach. He needs her to see what she’s getting herself into, how much she’ll need to take for him. His soft girl looks up at him, big glassy eyes full of nervous anticipation.

“I know” he coos, grinding himself against her skin, “you can take it, my perfect girl, we just need a little more room.”

He needs her pliant, well stretched to take him fully. With his claws as they were, using his fingers wasn’t an option, but he does have another solution. Dragging a heavy palm through her slick he grabs hold of his tail, coating the tapered end thoroughly before guiding it toward her entrance, using a thumb to circle her clit as he slips inside.

The tip is easy, no thicker than a couple of her fingers as it pushes its way inside, the glide nice and easy from her previous orgasm. He fucks nice and slow, thrusting the tip in shallowly until she’s whining for more. He leans over her, rutting his cock against the crease of her thigh as he sinks his tail in further, fucks into her with more speed, using his hands wisely to play with her tits, rolling her nipples between his fingers and nibbling at her lips to distract her from the stretch. She’s holding on for dear life, hands gripping his horns for purchase.

Even as spent as she is, she clenches around him desperately, sweet pussy desperate to take as much of him as she can. He can’t wait to feel her pulsing against his cock. Wet and hot, and so so tight.

He growls, rutting into her with more fervor. She’s close, chubby thighs clenching as he curls the tip of his tail a bit, just to bully more of his length inside of her. She’s lost in it, frantically kissing at his face as her peak draws closer and closer. Sneaking a thumb against her clit she cums again, legs slamming shut against his tail as he fucks her through it, laughing as she sobs, shoving at him weakly as she gushes messily around him again, slick coating his abdomen and dribbling down the stone underneath.

“Good girl, one more for me zoloste, I know you can do it.” He yanks her thighs apart pulling his tail from her greedy cunt and dragging her further down the pedestal, her plush ass hanging off the edge. He rests her thighs against his chest, kissing her ankle soothingly as he drags himself through her slick folds, thoroughly coating himself before lining up with her entrance.

Even with the prep it’s a tight squeeze. He takes it slow, bullying his way inside her soaked heat, gummy walls squeezing him tight as he sinks in, whimpering as the ridges of his cock drag against her sore entrance. He fucks slowly, pumping in shallow thrusts before he pulls out again, teasing her tired clit and pushing in again, head thrown back with victorious groan as he finally pushes himself to the hilt.

Its a gorgeous sight, her pussy split open on the girth of him, legs spread wide and clit twitching as he fucks her with tight shallow circles. She’s a mess, cheeks streaked with tears and trembling against the stone, whimpers and little hiccups falling from her lips. He hushes her, sliding his palms against her thighs, catching her hands to curl his fingers in hers, anchoring her there as he picks up the pace.

She’s already close, cunt clenching around him with every thrust. He fucks into her with earnest, her pretty fat pussy swallowing him down to the balls as the sticky slap of it echoes through the cemetery.

“Fuck, taking me like you were made for it.” he snarls bending over her to lick into her mouth, swallowing every little cry and plea as he fucks her mercilessly, soft body jiggling with the harshness of it.

“You’ll give me anything won’t you? Let me fill up this pretty pussy.” he pants, yanking her closer, and with a sick knowing grin, his tail slides underneath her, slick tip toying with her asshole. “Let me fill this pretty ass too, wouldn’t you?”

“Anything you want, Kolya, please, please,” she begs, his perfect girl cock drunk and hazy, tears spilling down her cheeks as she rocks into him for more.

“Don’t even know what's good for you, silly girl, you’d let me tear you in two.” he chuckles, “ but I’ll give you a little taste.” His tip slides between her cheeks, already slick from her own juices. He teases her there, flickering playfully at her hole before sinking in slowly, pushing just past her tight ring of muscle to fill her up, groaning at the feel of his own cock sliding against her walls.

Her next orgasm takes her like a freight train, soft body arching and trembling as it ravages through her. He fucks her through it, pussy clenching him like a vice as he pulls his tail from her ass, sharp claws digging into the meat of her hips hard enough to draw blood as he chases his own end.

Snarling like a beast he pounds into her, sinking himself deep as he comes with a low growl, painting her insides with long spurts. Filling her completely until his spend seeps out around his cock, spilling down her thighs and into the soft earth below.

He holds them there like that, cock buried deep as he marks her from the inside out, his bulky head resting against her breasts as they both come down.

His, his, his.

His perfect soft girl, flushed and damp from sweat and slick, trembling hands carding though his dark hair. Kind and gentle despite the way he ravaged her.

And when she leans up, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips with a nervous giggle, he knows he’ll guard her for the rest of his days.

#nikolai x reader #nikolai x f!reader #gargoyle!nikolai #monster smut #nikolai cod #wildcraft writing #restoration worship #i've looked and looked so i apology for any egregious errors #plus size reader

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palioom · 1 year ago

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stuffing

summary: javier has never been able to get enough of you, but it's only gotten worse ever since you've become pregnant.

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

word count: 3.1k

warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n; unprotected p in v; oral (f receiving); fingering; established relationship; pregnancy sex/kink; squirting; cum eating; cum play; creampie; some dirty talk

• masterlist •

Life in Laredo was boring.

Boring people, boring houses, hell, even the birds singing here seemed boring.

But that’s how Javier liked it.

The biggest news here was barely worth a mention compared to what he had seen in Colombia.

He was more than fine with this boring life, no more chases, no more heavy protection tact vests. No looking over the shoulder, no suspicious staring.

Though, he still did that from time to time.

Couldn’t quite shake the habit of suspecting people planned something bad, occasionally checking his car for bombs.

He’d probably never lose these things, it was too deeply embedded into his being now, had become a part of him.

But that’s why he loved this boring life.

Coming home to the little plot of land they had purchased right next to his father’s, staying close to Chucho and helping out whenever they could.

Coming home to a warm home, decorated with silly little trinkets, pretty paintings.

Everything neatly organized but with a certain chaos to it. He didn’t like things too neat, and while their home was tidy and clean, it looked lived in.

Maybe a little wild at times.

Not bare or sparsely decorated like safehouses or his apartment back in Medellín.

He loved coming home to the smell of food wafting to the front door.

Loved coming home to her.

His lovely wife, her back turned towards him as she worked on something, hair up and out of her face.

Moving her pretty hips and ass as she hummed along to whatever song the radio was playing. Completely in her own world.

He smiled when he saw her, walking up to her and pressing himself close, hands on her hip and kissing the back of her head before pressing one against her exposed neck.

She was warm and inviting, letting out a small sigh when she felt him, leaning back while still working on whatever food she was making.

“Looks good, cariño.” He said, kissing that spot behind her ear that let her sigh even deeper before resting his chin on her shoulder to watch.

“Thank you, it’s the stuffing for the poblano peppers I wanna make at the cookout tomorrow.” She said, her skilled hands cutting vegetables into small portions. “I know I could whip it up tomorrow, but I have so many things still planned and I don’t know how I’ll feel.”

A smirk stretched his lips wide, his hands roaming to her large, round belly. Just letting his hands smooth over it for a moment, they wandered to the underside of it, gently lifting it.

The sigh of relief that spilled over her lips echoed loudly in the kitchen and he watched how she put down the knife, just leaning back into him, hands gripping the counter.

It was a heavy weight in his hands and he couldn’t imagine carrying that around every day.

But she was such a champ, despite her swearing and complaints. And she had never looked more beautiful.

“We could make a different kind of stuffing.” He suggested, tone teasing. “Together.”

A small laugh bubbled in her chest, and fuck, how he loved hearing it.

“Pretty sure there’s enough stuffing inside of me already.”

Javier had always been pretty insatiable when it came to her, whether it was for the basic need of wanting to fuck his beautiful wife or because his past was plaguing him and he needed a respite, seeking comfort in her body rather than his usual vices.

But ever since she had become pregnant, he truly couldn’t get enough of her, hands all over her round belly and swollen breasts, needing some part of himself buried inside her pussy.

Not that she minded, he always made sure to make her feel good.

“C’mon, nena.” He said, letting her belly down again gently, taking notice of how she slumped a little. “There can never be enough stuffing inside of you.”

She rolled her eyes with a groan, partially from the heavy weight returning, partially because he was ridiculous. In the best way, of course.

“Better keep that talk to a minimum tomorrow.” She warned with a grin, turning around in his arms and leaning back against the counter.

“Yes ma’am.”

His lips on hers were gentle at first, moulding languidly together, his hand roaming up and down her side. Moustache tickling her upper lip.

Letting his tongue find hers, he could taste some of the vegetables she had chopped up, smiling at that. She tasted amazing and Javier couldn’t wait to have whatever she was making tomorrow.

But first, he wanted her.

Deepening the kiss, his hands wandered down to her ass, squeezing hard which made her moan.

The most beautiful sound he knew, soft and already high-pitched, a song no one else would ever know.

“C’mon, nena” He rasped against her lips, a small groan leaving him when her hands wandered into his hair. “Let me take care of you.”

She chuckled at his words.

“Take care of me or of your dick?”

Javier had to laugh at that as well, forehead coming to rest against hers, looking into her eyes.

“Is that what you think of me?”

She shrugged her shoulders, upside down smile on her lips.

Her hands moved to his cheeks, squishing them just lightly. She really wanted him, feeling wet already at the thought of him inside her.

But she needed to finish chopping the vegetables first, knowing she wouldn’t come back here once he had her in bed. And he wouldn’t do it.

“Can I finish this first, Javi?” She placed a kiss on the bridge of his nose, right over the small scar there. “I know you won’t let me out of bed once you get me there.”

Javier sighed but nodded. Anything for his wife.

Kissing her forehead, he let his lips linger there as she hummed. “I’ll help you, cariño.”

It took them longer than expected to land in their bedroom, with Javier trying to get things done the fast way and getting reprimanded by her more than just once for how sloppily he diced the vegetables.

But, they had managed somehow, leaving the mess to get cleaned up in the morning.

She giggled when he pushed her onto the bed, gently, before kneeling before her.

Hands on her belly, lips back on hers.

“Wanna taste that pussy so bad.” He said, one hand sliding to her thigh and slowly pushing up the hem of her dress. “Wet and sweet for me.”

Kissing down her jaw to her neck, he could feel the moan vibrating in her throat, her hand at the back of his neck.

“Please, Javi.” She sighed, enjoying the way his lips felt against her skin, how tantalisingly slow he moved his calloused hand up her thigh.

Her legs spread further, allowing him to trace his fingers up the inside of her thigh before reaching the hem of her panties, already wet.

A soft gasp echoed between them when he pressed a knuckle over her clit, applying just a little bit of pressure.

Her fingers curled into his neck, eyes closed.

She was much more sensitive now, every little touch so much more intense as he languidly dragged his knuckle over the damp material.

“Feels good, huh, nena?” He asked, leaning back to look at her face, drinking in her pleasure as he pressed a little harder.

She nodded, humming, biting her lip when he brushed over her clit again.

“Take them off, Javi.”

He grinned, fingers hooking under the waistband and tugging them down her legs when she lifted her hips to help him.

Both his hands were back on her immediately, bunching up her summer dress so he could look at her soaking pussy when she leaned back on one arm. The other caressed the back of his head still.

No matter how often he saw her, he always looked mesmerised somehow, like this was his first time.

Made her feel special, the low, quiet whistle and grin on his face making her giggle.

“Pretty pussy all soaked for me.” He said, eyes still on her middle as he used his thumbs to spread her open, the air chilly against her. “You're stunning, cariño.”

She couldn’t quite see, her belly too big already, but she felt the rough pad of one thumb press into her clit, making her hips jerk forward.

“Always for you, Javi.” She smiled, nails scratching against his scalp.

His dark eyes found hers, sparkling and so loving and he leaned up towards her face, pressing a long kiss to her lips.

“Let me taste you, nena.” He said.

Just a few years back, when she had met him between his stays in Colombia, he would have just dived in without even asking, merely announcing it.

It made her happy that he had settled a little, had found enough rest to allow himself to change just a bit.

Just a little though, still falling into his old ways more often than not.

Exactly how she liked it.

“‘Course, Javi, you fucking know that.” She chuckled, kissing him again before he settled back down, grinning like he’d just won the damn lottery.

In his mind, he did.

With a woman so stunning, so perfect with her charm and wits and that round belly only making her angelic.

He felt like he had done something right for once when he put a ring on her, just them in a tiny ceremony.

Only Chucho with them.

They never liked the big celebrations, just them was enough.

“Scootch back and lay down, cariño.” He said, helping her to move back on the bed, making it easier for both of them.

That growing stomach of hers had made it just a little harder to do all this, but they found a way.

She hummed when he kissed down the insides of her thighs, occasionally biting her while his hands kept them spread for him.

Her hand in his hair tugged weakly on his dark locks, making him hum in return.

“So fucking pretty.” He murmured, right before finding her middle, tongue twisting around her clit, seeing how her back arched off the bed, her fingers curling tighter into his hair. “So fucking sensitive, cariño.”

Licking a broad stripe up her folds, he focused solely on her clit, tongue flicking over it before he sucked on it, making her moan and whimper.

“Javi, fuck, that feels good, baby.” She whined loudly, writhing on the bed already, one hand twisted in the sheets while the other still gripped his hair tightly.

She wished she could watch him, watch his face as he ate her out. He always looked so pretty when he did.

So she closed her eyes and imagined his staring up at hers, brows furrowed in concentration. The wet sounds growing louder, mingling with her moans.

Her hips bucked against his mouth and he laid one of his hands on her hip to keep her still, the other finding her wet entrance, two fingers teasing her and making her whine.

“Oh- Baby, please, fuck me with your fingers, please.” She rushed out, trying to inch closer to him but he kept teasing her, letting them glide over her aching hole but not pushing inside. “You’re a mean man, Javi.”

He hummed against her, the vibrations running up her spine and pushed his fingers in, taking her by surprise.

She clenched around him, moaning loudly and throwing her head back as he slowly started pumping in and out of her, fingers curling against that spongy sweet spot inside of her.

“That’s my girl.” He mumbled, grabbing her hip harder as he continued to lick and suck at her clit. “Sweet pussy gripping me so tight, nena.”

Her orgasm was building rapidly, feeling so sensitive as he touched all the right spots.

A different, unfamiliar sensation built alongside it, faster and faster as she writhed below him, whines growing louder.

“Baby- I’m gonna-” She choked out, unable to finish her sentence as her orgasm crashed into her so suddenly and so violently that she couldn’t even make more sounds.

Then she felt it, a warm, wet gush, her hand in his hair managing to tug him away as he kept pumping his fingers, fucking her through her orgasm as she soaked his shirt.

He just looked stunned. This was the first time this had ever happened and seeing her body tremble, legs shaking and her thighs and the sheets wet…

Could he possibly be more in love and crazy for her?

“‘M sorry, Javier.” She gasped out when he removed his fingers once she had calmed down again, breathing hard. “I don’t know-”

“Stop.” He cut her off, rising to his feet so he could crawl over her. “That was fucking hot, cariño.”

His eyes were hungry when he looked down at her, lips crashing into hers.

His moustache was wet, as was his chin and she could taste herself on him when he pushed his tongue into her mouth.

She could practically feel how excited he was, not that he ever wasn’t, but all the shame she might have felt at what she did was melting away as he kissed her so roughly and passionately, his hands moving to push down the straps of her dress.

Quickly his fingers unclasped her bra and she helped him take it off, groaning when his rough hands cupped her sensitive breasts.

“God, I love you pregnant.” He said, kissing down her neck to her chest.

She giggled, the sound broken by a gasp when his mouth closed around one nipple.

“Just ‘cause my tits get bigger?”

Javier had to laugh at that. “Exactly, and you’re fucking sexy like this.”

She rolled her eyes, moaning again when his tongue curled around her nipple, back arching into him.

“Can you finally fuck me?” She asked, hands in his hair. “Please, baby, it hurts.”

He sat up, taking off his soaked shirt and throwing it to the side, revealing his toned chest and soft stomach.

“Hurts for me, nena?” He said, brow raised as his fingers fumbled with his belt buckle. “Gonna need my dick to help you feel better?”

She nodded, biting her lip as she watched him take off his jeans, then his underwear, his hard cock springing free.

“Say it.”

Her legs wrapped around his waist, trying to coax him closer.

“Need your cock in my aching pussy, Javi. Want you to fuck me.”

His hands wandered to her dress, still bunched around her hips and pulled it off of her.

“My pretty little wife.” He chuckled, lining himself up with her, her legs draped over his hips. “You sound so sweet, you’re always so good to me.”

Slowly he pushed in, watching for her reactions as he pushed in deeper, until he was settled all the way.

She moaned, eyes closing and her hands reaching for his thighs, needing to hold onto him in some way.

“Feels good?” He asked, running his hands over her legs, then placed them over hers.

A low hum left her and she nodded. “Move, baby. Wanna feel you.”

Javier obliged almost immediately, rolling his hips slowly, pulling out before pushing himself all the way in again.

Dragging low moans from her, short gasps and pants.

Watching her face contort in pleasure when one of her hands left his leg to squeeze her own breast.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous, cariño.” He groaned, feeling her clench around him. “My dirty, little wife.”

A new orgasm built rapidly, his dick hitting all the right places inside of her, his groans and moans only helping the waves of pleasure grow.

She opened her eyes to look at him, watching his muscles flex as he slammed his hips against hers, when he lifted her legs to lay them against his shoulders, changing the angle and moving faster.

“Oh- Javi, fuck!” She gasped, feeling herself so close already as he kept fucking her. “You feel so good!”

“I know, nena.” He rasped, his eyes moving back and forth between her face and her bouncing breasts. “Be a good girl for me and let go, yeah? Wanna feel that pussy all tight, you’re so fucking gorgeous like this, cariño.”

Just a few more thrusts, looking at his face, teeth bared and brows furrowed, her second orgasm crashed into her, making her tense up and moan his name, squeezing him so tightly he had to stop for a moment.

“Just like that, nena, yes.” He breathed out, picking up his speed as he fucked her through it, rhythm faltering. “That’s my girl, fuck-”

His hips pressed into her, a guttural groan ripped from him as he came, fingers curling into her thighs.

“So fucking pretty with your belly, fuck- Gotta give you more.”

She barely understood his rambling over the blood rushing in her ears, struggling to breathe as she still felt the pleasure running through her.

But something about it was just incredibly hot.

He let her legs down gently before pulling out carefully, spreading her legs to watch his cum leak out of her.

She felt hot under his gaze and watched as he used his fingers to push it back into her, making her groan and roll her eyes.

“Javi, I am already pregnant.” She said, watching his face closely.

He hummed in response, still pushing more back into her.

“Just gotta make sure.” He said, hearing her laugh at that. “Love seeing my cum inside you, cariño, you know that.”

“Just gotta make sure…” She mumbled under her breath with a chuckle. “You’re ridiculous.”

Happy with what he’d done, he leaned forward to kiss her belly before leaning over her again, putting his fingers to her mouth.

“Open.”

She did, sucking his fingers into her mouth and humming at the salty taste, both of them together.

When he pulled them out again, he kissed her, soft and tender now, his hand smoothing over her belly.

“We do make good stuffing.” She said, trying not to laugh but feeling herself unable to when he started grinning.

He laughed too, loving her laugh and kissing her forehead.

“We do, and I’ll make sure there’s more where that came from.” He said, eyes twinkling.

“Not tomorrow.” She warned.

He kissed her cheek.

“I won’t have to mention it, everyone can already see how well I stuffed you.”

That earned him a playful swat on the arm, pushing him off of her with a laugh.

Yeah, she really loved this Javier.

And she could imagine letting him stuff her just once or twice more.

He was pretty good at this, after all.

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feilien · 11 months ago

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@draconisa said: "∗ 46﹕ sender pulls receiver out of harm’s way . (reverse!)" {♚ x 𝟏𝟎𝟎 𝑵𝑶𝑵𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑳 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺 . || Accepting x}

Their alliance was still fresh, new, and on shaky ground at best; alas, it was necessary to accomplish their one common goal: to stop his own clan’s shady dealings. The reality of it all had hit him only recently, and it had hit him hard. Hard enough to go not only behind his clan’s back, but behind his own family’s back as well. Something completely unthinkable less than a month ago. If his grandfather ever got caught wind of it, Long Zhi would get disinherited or exiled at best, or lose his own life at worst. A risk he seemed surprisingly willing to take.

He had been raised to fight, even to kill without hesitation, but the targets had always been enemies, or at the very least people who had wronged them. There had been a reason, an excuse. But this? They were innocent, helpless. And Long Zhi couldn’t just stand idly by and let it happen; not now that he knew.

And while he was careful only to sneak out when he was absolutely certain beyond doubt that no one would notice his absence, he still remained paranoid to an unreasonable degree. But it was that very paranoia that made him realize that someone was following them. They were subtle and skilled, but when Long Zhi spotted them for the third time in the corner of his eye, his hands disappeared inside of his jacket and wrapped around two of his knives — just in case.

For a while, nothing happened. But then they turned into a quiet street and the atmosphere changed all of a sudden. One moment they were hiding in a doorway, the next they jumped out with a gun in hand. It was instinct more than anything, but Long Zhi let go of one of the blades in favour of grabbing Daenerys’ sleeve and pulling her towards him. The bullet whizzed by, and just a fraction of a second later, he had pulled out his knife and returned the favour. Except… Long Zhi didn’t miss. The blade was securely lodged in the assailant’s chest. The gun cluttered to the ground and he started to stagger back, clutching the knife.

“Pull it out and you’re as good as dead,” Long Zhi growled, keeping his eyes on the other just in case they tried something else. “That’s not one of my men. Who is that? And why the fuck are they trying to shoot you in broad daylight?”

#{♚ x A bird does not sing because it has an answer. It sings because it has a song [ANSWERED] x}#{♚ x v; You lost that right to hold that crown; I built you up but you let me down. [MAIN] x}#{♚ x dyn; draconisa » tbd [MATT&DAENERYS] x}#draconisa #Why exactly are they out and about? Who the fuck knows dfjkgds

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mmogurl · 1 month ago

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Dragonseed Chapter 2 : Coveted

18+ | 3.0k | Daemon Targaryen X Female Reader | dangerous, sex-crazed, raunchy Daemon | hyper possessive behavior, ownership, objectifying, big breast reader, non con, non consensual, P in V, lots of typical Daemon cussing, rough, forceful sex, violence, threats of violence.

Daemon has been feeling a lot better now that he's found you, his Dragonseed. No longer deprived of his carnal appetites, he's been keeping you close by ever since bringing you to work at Dragonstone. You return his generosity by satisfying his every need, although not always in the way you expect to. Daemon is a rather unpredictable man after all. I came up with the idea for this after reading page 914 in Fire and Blood. In the show, they recruit Valyrian blooded bastards to ride the unclaimed dragons from King’s Landing, but in the book there is actually a fishing village at the base of the island where Dragonstone is located. The men of House Targaryen were known to seek pleasure among the commonfolk there quite often, claiming their ‘first night’ rights and sowing ‘dragonseeds.’ Sorry it came out a little late, I've been sick again the past couple of days.. T_T

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 On AO3

Daemon wet his face in the basin, his fair skin caked with dirt and sweat from a day of training in the yard. He lathered a generous amount of milk soap into his hands and began to wash his face. He’d really prefer to take a bath and clean thoroughly, but he simply didn’t have enough time if he was going to wet his cock in you before supper.

Grinning he began to think of you as he ran a wet cloth under his armpits and then down to his groin. Standing buck arse naked in his chambers, his cock is already growing rigid in his hands at the thought of you, his little bird, his dragonseed, his secret paramour, and how hard he was going to fuck you when he got his hands on you.

Just as promised, he’d proffered you a position within the castle at Dragonstone easily enough, an assistant cook in the kitchen. Given you were so young and fit, the staff didn’t mind having another set of legs to fetch and carry things to and from the pantry. And given his high status, it wasn’t as though any of them would dare deny his request either.

The arrangement has been working out perfectly well for both of them so far. And since Rhaenyra never even bothered to join him in bed as of late, it had been painless enough to bring you into his chamber whenever he wished it. And oh how he had wished for it often, enjoying every moment of breaking in his new lover, and you were always so eager to please him. The biggest challenge was keeping you quiet so that his wife would not hear your screams of pleasure from down the way; he quite often accomplished this by covering your mouth, whether it be by his own hand or a gag of cloth to silence those heated moans.

Fuck, he was already at full mast, his manhood throbbing and twitching at just recalling the image of your full bosom bouncing beneath him as he restrained the sounds coming from your pretty little lips. Oh, how he’d love to let you go and hear every beautiful tune you might sing as he plunged his cock into your depths, but he’d rather not listen to the bitching that would ensue from Rhaenyra’s cantankerous mouth as a result.

Daemon finishes the quick job of freshening up, rinsing his body with more water from the basin and drying off before he gets dressed again. He rushes as he ties up his shirt, not wanting to miss the opportunity to have you sooner, rather than later tonight. His blood is pumping even more than usual today after some exceptionally good sparring with the other knights on the island, and he feels like he has enough seed stored up to take you at least three times, maybe even four.

He wears a knowing grin as he saunters through the halls of the keep, still half hard as he makes his way towards you, his toothsome little firebird. Daemon has a half a mind to take you wherever he finds you, loving the idea of a public fuck. Let one of the servants see him staking his claim on you, for it would make the act even more tantalizing. He wonders where he might take you, that self-satisfied smirk never leaving his countenance. Perhaps in the root cellar where the potatoes and wine were stored- or the pantry, or maybe even the larder? He finds himself further enticed by the idea of fucking you beside a full leg of mutton, after all, you are his piece of meat and he cherishes you for it.

There are a series of narrow hallways in the servants quarters, smaller rooms where they sleep, where you sleep when you are not keeping his bed warm. Daemon navigates them, slipping past other house staff that seem alarmed by his presence, but don’t offer any argument to it. The corridor opens up into the massive kitchen, a long rectangular room with an open stove in the center of one wall. Opposite the fire is a massive table that takes up much of the chamber, and women are busy preparing different elements of food to be served with dinner. Freshly cooked bread is laid out as well as several biscuits all arranged neatly on a silver tiered tray.

It all looks rather delicious, but no delicacy in the castle could compare to the taste of you. And Daemon is starving for you, ravenous with hunger for the sweet cunt between your legs, seemingly unable to get enough of it. He sees you standing at the table, your back towards him and your long silvery tresses glowing from the dancing flame of the fire-pit. He’d hoped to find you somewhere a little more private, but that doesn’t mean he can’t take you to another location to have his way with you.

As Daemon takes a step into the kitchen, he stops in his tracks, pausing in place as a consternated look appears across his furled brow and crinkled nose. A man, broad of chest and dark in his features comes to stand beside you, resting his hand on your shoulder and looking down at you with far too much affection and familiarity.

How dare that piece of shit touch you. You belong to him! He’d already stolen you away from your husband and in fact had the marriage annulled. He’d realized after talking with his maester, that as the lord of Dragonstone, he has the legal authority to deny any wedding among the peasants, and so he did. But, now some upstart ruffian from the kitchen was going to try and steal you away from him? How many men would he have to dispose of before he could be at peace with his claim on you?

It wouldn’t do at all. Daemon would need to make an example of him. Show everyone what happened when they touched what was his.

He strode up proudly, his back straight as his Valyrian Steel longsword, Dark Sister, as he approached the pair and cleared his throat, his hand clenching down on the man’s shoulder viciously. The scamp let out a startled yelp as you turned to see what was happening, a look of concern flashing across your eyes as you saw Daemon standing there. He saw the tremulous fear in your periwinkle eyes as you began to grasp the situation and sneered with a wild look of abandon in his eyes.

“What do you think you’re fucking doing?” Daemon roared out, squeezing even harder into the man’s meaty shoulder.

The fellow sunk under his grip, instantly relinquishing his hold on you as he attempted to turn and face his assailant.

“No, you can stay right there prick,” he said with a scathing venom in his tone.

The kitchen staff had all stopped what they were doing, gazing upon the scene with terror as though they knew blood was likely soon to be spilled.

“LEAVE US!” Daemon roared out loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls in echo as every single servant jumped in fright before rushing to leave the premises.

He reaches past you to pick up a chef’s knife from the table and spins the offender around to face him. “You see this knife, you fuckwit?” he asks with condescension. The man nods stupidly, wearing a veil of abject dread upon his face. “If I ever see you so much as look at her again, I’m going to make you a fucking eunuch. You understand?”

The man simply stared up at Daemon, disbelief rife in his slack jaw. He did not answer immediately and it angered the King-Consort even more.

“DO YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND!? You are not to touch her! EVER!!” he screams and wraps his giant hand around the man’s face, slamming him back against the heavy wooden table.

“Yes! Yes, m’lord!” the whelp finally replies, falling to his knees with his hands clasped up and pleading.

Disgusted, Daemon scowls and shoves him to the side, away from him and towards the exit. “Get out of you filthy mongrel!” he spits derisively. “Before I change my mind…”

The peasant chef or whatever the fuck he was, shambled to his feet, tripping and falling twice before he made it out of the room. The silence was cumbersome as Daemon eyed you, his gaze hard and vicious as he decided how he should punish you.

“Why did you do that?” you are asking, but your voice is so far away, barely noticeable against the ringing of his furious heartbeat in his ears.

“After everything I’ve done for you?” he begins tearing into you, his words savage and his voice hateful. He cups your face in one hand, stroking your cheek almost tenderly, completely juxtapose to the angry expression on his face. A squeak of surprise escapes your lips as he then runs the dull backside of the knife along the opposite side of your face. He is pleased with the fright in your features, after all, he wants you to know how grave an offense this is.

He turns you swiftly, shoving you against the surface of the table and pushing you down with a strong hand to the middle of your back. You try to get up when he tosses the knife with a clatter across the table, but he slams you back down causing the table to groan with the weight of his force. “Stay fucking down,” he hisses with frustration as he unlaces his trousers.

“But I didn’t do anything,” you whine sorrowfully, still trying to play dumb.

“Like fucking hell you didn’t, you little whore!” he spits back, pulling his stiffened cock out from his smallclothes and letting it hang freely. “You let him touch you. I fucking saw it! Saw the way he looked at you. How he wanted you.”

Daemon begins to pull your skirts up, shoving them up and over your waist until he can see your bared cunny before him. “Did you want to fuck him, girl? Did you think he’d have a bigger cock than me? Think he could fill you to the brim and make you ache like I can?”

You’re already whimpering, a soft mewl of tears in your voice as you try to make excuses. As you try to implore him to cease in being so upset. As though anything could calm him down now that he’d seen another man’s hands upon you.

“I will never let another have you, firebird.. You are fucking mine! You belong to me!” he shouted with a gruff and spiteful voice.

He pressed the head of his cock against your wet center, pressing through without warning and sinking all the way in until he thudded roughly against your womb.

“Fuck!,” he roared as you continued to whine against the hard surface of the counter. “I need to remind you, hm?” he asked, one hand coming to your hip and pulling you back roughly onto his member as he thrust into you again and again. “That you are just a little thing, a prized cunt for me to fuck whenever I wish it?”

That actually makes your breath catch with fresh indignant cries of pain. Oh you haven’t cried like this for him since the very first time he had you and he is relishing the way you keep trying to pull your tender core away from his impending wrath. It’s not like you have anywhere to escape to though, not like you can get away from his grip, pinned between him and the table, forced to take him like a good little trollop.

“This tight little hole belongs to me, girl!” he seethed, losing himself completely in your wet heat, his fury unbridled as he pounds into you relentlessly. “Say it. Tell me what you are and who you belong to. Say it now!”

He knows you won’t like that, understand all too well how proud you are, but he has to break your spirit further if he’s going to keep you under his thumb. He has to make you realize that you’re nothing without him. You stay silent besides the sound of your wailing, your dismay at how he is taking you and how low he is trying to bring you apparent.

“Say it, you little fucking slut!” he howls, raising his hand from your hip to slap you viciously on the the round fat of your arse.

You let out an alarmed yelp, followed by a wail of outrage as you finally relent. “I’m…I-I’m your cunny to fuck, Daemon!” you squeal with the sharp sting of embarrassment clear in your tone as your tight core clamps down on him in response.

“Damn fucking right you are,” he leers over you with a primal growl of arousal and conquest. “You like it don’t you? Like being my little whore?” He slaps you on the arse once more, this time hard enough to leave a crimson handprint on your flesh. Daemon can’t help but grin at the sound you make and the way you clench down tightly on his cock each time he slaps your rear. “You really do enjoy it,” he smiles smugly, loving that his filth has this affect on you. “I wonder how much coin I could fetch for you back in the brothels at King’s Landing? I bet you’d be the biggest earner on the Street of Silk… And you’d love every moment of it wouldn’t you?”

The inner lining of your center contracts violently around his length as you peak, causing him to wince in pain as he pushes past the taut muscles. “My dirty little bird,” he pants, grinning from ear to ear as you go limp against the table and he plunges deeply into you, pounding endlessly as he chases his own release.

He spills into you with the heat and thickness of molten lava, his cockhead slamming roughly against your womb as he pulls your hips onto him firmly, pulsing seed inside of you as he groans with the pleasure of subduing you completely.

“Fucking hellls!” he bellows out, falling on top of your back with nothing but his arm to keep from crushing you, holding himself up slightly from the wooden counter.

Daemon stays inside of you, not in a rush to leave the safe and welcoming heat of your cunt. As he steadies himself on his forearm, he reaches up to brush your hair aside, wiping salty tears dotingly from your cheeks as he takes in your expression.

“Are you hurt, little bird?” he asks with a hint of regret in seeing your reddened eyes and cheeks. “Was I too rough?”

You shake your head slightly, still not making eye contact with him as your body shivers beneath him. He smooths your bright locks of hair back against your scalp, still panting as he tries to recover.

Gods, he thinks you look beautiful like this, ravaged and spent, and still impaled on his cock.

“I don’t want him,” you finally say quietly, almost pouting. “He means nothing to me.”

Daemon sighs, feeling a pang of guilt at how decisively you say that, without a hint of doubt. He withdraws his length from you, leaving a slick mess of your combined fluids as he lets your skirts fall down again. He puts his now softening cock back in his brailes and turns you around to face him.

“I know,” he says pressing a kiss against your lips, before pulling back to take a look at you. “I can’t control how I feel about you, my searing firebird,” he says more softly, peppering kisses on your cheeks in between words. “It drives me mad with rage to think of another man so much as touching you.”

There was something about fucking you that always dulled his sharpest edges. It was as though every bit of pent up rage and aggression just fell away once he spent inside you. You were the only one who could sooth his ferocity like this, quell the savage beast that he always became in your absence, or even at the thought of losing you.

“I would never leave you for another, Daemon,” you say reassuringly, brushing your soft hand along the hard line of his jaw. “I don’t want anyone else but you. You must know that by now?”

“One day, I’ll learn,” he offers with a playful little smirk as he snatches your hand in his, and brushes a gentle kiss against the back of your knuckle.

“Well, isn’t that sweet?” an all too familiar voice cuts through the tender moment.

Daemon snaps his head towards the shrill sound, knowing exactly who he’ll see, his wife Rhaenyra. He looks back at you, realizing that he’s been caught and worried about what it could mean for you. He turns back to the would be queen and offers a feigned smile of surprise.

“I’m sorry, wife,” he offers complacently as he lets your hand go and smacks you on the bottom dismissively, signaling for you to leave. “Did we make too much noise?”

You scamper off obediently, retreating into the hallway and out of sight much to his relief. He doesn’t want Rhaenyra getting a good look at you, doesn’t want her getting any ideas concerning retribution against you.

“When the staff is not allowed into the kitchen to prepare supper and we are all made to wait… Well, it certainly sparks one’s curiosity as to what is causing the delay, husband,” she says, her voice cold and distant.

“Oh, that?” he throws his hands out in a disarming gesture, showing that they are empty. “That was just some fun,” he assures her, using as much disregard as possible so Rhaenyra might feel less threatened by you. “A passing dalliance, nothing more,” he offers with a wink as he lowers his hands to his sides and walks past her out towards the dining hall.

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silkythewriter · 10 months ago

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hii!! i found your Vox headcanons and i'm very intrigued! i loved the last two and loved them! i've got a request as well, could you maybe do Vox with a singer! reader? one who sings/hums under their breath whenever they get the chance, or even dance when they think they're alone!

Vox with a singer Reader!

( ˘ ɜ˘) ♬♪♫!!

Warnings!: Non!

Fandom!: Hazbin hotel

Author note!: AH HELLO!!! TYSM FOR THE REQUEST PLEASE ENJOY AND FEEL FREE TO REQUEST AGAIN SOON!

Summary!: Vox with a singer reader!

❤️Written by silkythewriter Do not steal or repost on any other platform please! <3.❤️

✰𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹✰

“So I come back to my first note

as I must come back to you

I will pour into that one note

all the love I feel for you”

︎✰𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹✰

!📺✨Vox✨📺!

Oh my how this man would be entranced by your small tunes

he’s always found comfort in your voice, even when you were just chattering. But now it’s different, the first time a soft melody escaped your lips, let me tell you, he was hooked ever since then.

He found comfort in your soft hum’s, it was such a calming thing, it was a big difference from the hustle and bustle of the over populated hell. A good one at that, it was an escape for him ♥(⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)♥

He’ll always go silent when you’re humming, and you’ll never notice it!. He’ll listen to the soft hum with full attention. Of course he’ll always be careful so you don’t catch on!

he doesn't understand why, but he love’s being discreet when listening to you. Maybe it’s the wya you feel relaxed or let the notes flow more freely from you mouth. He’s not quite sure but he just knows he dose it quite often!

sooner or later though he’ll make it be known that he’s been listening to you. Most likely in a teasing way! Loves seeing you get flustered.

soon he may even join you in your little hums if he knows the melody of the song your humming! It’s always such a love filled moment. Although he maybe, a bit cocky and standoffish here on there he’s always so tender in moments like these. You get to see his soft side in rare and soft moments like these.

Although that doesn’t mean the teasing would stop! He loves teasingly calling you his singing bird, or his Canary. But he also means it in adoring way as well!

Your little songs and voice get stuck in his Tv head constantly, it’s always on loop. He doesn’t Hate it, not at all! But sometimes when you are apart it dose make him miss you.

Whenever he’s about to have a melt down/ lose his absolute shit (Aka he fought alastor once again ( ｰ`дｰ´ ) ) he’ll let his mind put your hums on loop its very much a coping method!, I would say it helps him a good chunk of the time but you might already know the shortness of his temper at times.

if you guys are possible in his living space and in private. he’s all over you, his love for you is watered down in public, but I’m privacy he’s be asking you too hum for him so he could relax! He’d love just to lay down for awhile and only hear you. Just you, no screaming and cussing from the other Two V’s, and no interruptions. As much as he loves building his power and fame, sometimes he needs this to recollect and can get back to working on whatever he was doing with a much more eased mind.(´∀｀)♡

Now! As for dancing and such, he loves watching you glide across the floor with such ease. Whatever dancing or way you move he’ll always find some elegance in it. And as much as he’s into new interventions, and the new “day and age”, he does love to indulge in this old slow dance’s. Look! Hear me out! He’s not old timey, more like appreciates the closeness, and how nice it is to just hold you and slowly dance around the living room, or his office once everyone is out of course!

even if you think no one’s watching he probably is, and as much as he loves to have a certain image of himself to show to the public at all times. He can’t help but put it away when he’s just focusing on you when you guys are alone. He’ll stare at you for how ever long just doting on you in his mind.

sometimes he spaces out cause all he can think of is just you, only you, and trust me the teasing he reserves form Val and Vel is outta this world.

they will never let him live down the time he buffered and glitched because his systems and inner fans were over heating just thinking about you.

if he is every away for business purposes, when he’s sure he’s completely alone, he’ll pull up his phone and dial you up so you can calm him down with your voice. This will NEVER be admitted form him, cause only the lord knows how Val and Vel would absolutely use this against him in a teasingly bullying way. Yea he’ll do everything just so they could shut up. (˶‾᷄ ⁻̫ ‾᷅˵)💧

I feel as though even if he’s proud to be with someone with such an amazing voice like you he’d hate to share it. He loves stomping and showing off to other people, but something like this he just wants to himself, he knows it’s selfish, But this is Vox were talking about, he wouldn’t care.

late nights always end up with him or you on one of each others chest as you hum him to sleep. He finds it comforting to have you near and to know you’re next to him!.

and here and there he’d let you sit on his lap or just next to him as he works. You don’t have to hum, but if you do lord knows it helps the man so much he just doesn’t understand, sometimes he thinks it’s genuinely some type of magic because of the way you make him feel so easily calm.

and yes he dose have a recording of your singing but you won’t see it reach the light of hell cause he keeps it for his own use. A bit creepy? Yes!, but somewhat endearing! Hehe..(｡•́‿•̀｡)💧

his love for you is very much unmatched, and as ironic as it is you always seem to make him lose his breath around you. He doesn’t see you as a weakness but in the same vain is terrified at the possibility of losing you, his only comfort. Sometimes he stresses himself out so bad at the thought of people using you against him or you leaving him, he has problems and most of those he’s not willing to admit he has. Even if you’re powerful, and can take care of yourself he still always finds a way to worry sometimes and at times like that you just have to remind him you’re there. Verbally or physically, but you can take a guess at the best way to sooth him

if your comfortable with it!, he’d wouldn’t even put music on when dancing just the two of you humming.

even if your not he still find you graceful call it heart shaped glasses but he’ll always find a way to complement you on the littlest of things.

he could be at a business deal with the nest biggest singer in hell and still he wouldn’t think they could top you in billions of years.

Again revisiting my point where I said he wouldn’t want to share your voice, he most definitely would snap if anyone just barged in his office (cough, Val cough, Velevet, cough!, sorry must be sick or something! ( ๑‾̀ ◡ ‾́)..) He’d kick them out immediately if it wasn’t something of importance (or what he seems to be important)

velvet always teases him by saying he’s up in the clouds ever since he’s met you which… yea you cant defend him there…

may the angels have mercy on your vocal cords cause as you can see you gonna be humming to him most of the time you are alone! ♫꒰ ･‿･๑꒱

Overall! please just hum softly with him and dance with this man! It’s his favorite bonding time. He’d give up everything to hear your voice for the rest of eternity. He doesn’t always show it cause of his status but trust me when I say he’s always and constantly thinking and loving you. And the more you dance softly together and spend nights humming together the more that grows! He loves you to no end. ˉ̞̭(′͈∨‵͈♡)˄̻ ̊…

✰𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹✰

THAT WAS SO FUN TO WRITE (♡ >ω< ♡) Vox is so fun to write for! SO THANK YOU TO EVERYONE AND YOU ANON FOR REQUESTING HIM \(^ヮ^)/ I really hope you enjoy! Please request again! :D.

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macfrog · 1 year ago

Text

company cowboy like me chapter six

lfg i am so happy to finally be back writing!!! here's a new part of cowboy like me to celebrate - you can also catch parts one thru five over on my masterlist 🤍 love u all lmk ur thoughts whose side are we on with the argument? 😏

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel and his hands help you feel better after an argument with your dad

warnings: 18+ minors dni!!! shower fun, handjob, fingering, bit of comeplay, like, allusions to exhibitionism?? not rly tho, dom!joel, unprotected p in v sex (i do not condone it unless it is fictional), praise kink, overstimulation, begging, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing, grilled cheese consumption (for all my lactose intolerant babies i got u)

word count: 8.4k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

“Please let me cum, promise I’ll be good. I’ll be quiet.” He laughs, some smug, cocky laugh. If you had a sliver of energy and half the feeling in your body, you’d bat his arm. “Don’t want you to be quiet, angel. You wanted to get caught, remember? Get us caught, then. Let ‘em all hear just what you’re up to.” “No,” you moan, head shaking, “don’t wanna get caught. Just w-wanna cum. Please, Joel…”

The birds singing. A car passing by on the street outside. The dull buzz of the shower running, and the gentle humming of the man standing in it. Whichever one wakes you first, you don’t much care. Your eyes have fluttered open to find the bathroom door half-open, the steamed-up shower right ahead of you.

You can see his silhouette moving around. Hands raising to rub shampoo into his hair. Dipping to push soap suds down the trail from his belly button. You’re half-naked in his bed, still sore from your antics from the night before, and he’s winding that coil all over again. Just from showering.

You push yourself off the bed with a groan. Your thighs burn as you move them; between your legs feels just as tender. His t-shirt hangs off you.

You slowly wander over to the bathroom door and pause to listen. It’s one of his country songs he’s always playing in the truck. And this man swears he ain’t a country fan.

Your head leans against the doorframe. One gentle push and he’ll know you’re right here.

The t-shirt comes off in one swift movement, and in you go.

“Mornin’, baby,” he coos as you walk over the threshold. When he peers around the steamed-up glass, he notices your lack of clothing, and mumbles an Oh as you step inside.

“What time does Sarah’s flight get in?” you ask innocently. His eyes are making their way slowly down your figure.

“An–” He clears his throat. “An hour.”

“You got time, then?”

He smirks as you soak yourself under the hot stream of water, and says, “Always got time for you.”

Your hands cup his strong jaw and pull him down to you. He obliges, lips parting to crash against yours. Tongues twisting and curling around one another, hands squeezing and scratching and stroking bodies. His palms find your tits and he squeezes, pulling a moan from your lips.

“So fuckin’ needy,” he murmurs against your lips.

You smile back into the kiss, replying, “It’s all your fault.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” your hand starts travelling south, “got – me – fuck – all ruined.”

Joel’s already hard when your hands take hold of him. Like, fucking hard. So hard you actually look down as you grip him with both hands, awestruck by how quickly he’s turned on. When you look back up, a cocky smile fills his cheeks.

“Get goin’ then. I ain’t got all mornin’.”

“Fuck you.” You drag your hand up his length.

“That’s what I got you for,” he breathes, leaning his head back against the tile, eyes closing.

This is the part you like. Sure, Joel’s hot when he’s being dominant, fucking you senseless, whispering filth in your ear, even just the way his hands grip your body. But this – when he’s under your hand, right where you want him, right where he wants to be. This is it for you.

Watching him unravel at your touch, the way you squeeze him, pull him, take care of him; your words, sweet and smooth as honey in his ear, asking how good it feels, telling him how good he looks, peppering wet kisses down his neck and across his chest; and then, when he’s close, the way he pants and takes hold of your wrist, telling you without speaking exactly how to fuckin’ get him there.

When you feel his hips buck, you sink to your knees and hold the head of his cock on your tongue. He tilts his head to look down at you, mouth agape, hand on the back of your head. You stroke his length a few more times, the tip swirling over your pink lips, before he grunts, releasing all over your tongue, watching as you take every last drop.

“Good girl…” he whispers, over and over until he goes limp. You never take your eyes off of him as you lick your lips and swallow. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

When he comes down from his high, Joel takes your hands and pulls you back up to stand. He lazily bumps his nose against yours and then pulls you in, filling your mouth with his tongue. He groans into the kiss, tangling his hand in your hair, tasting himself on you.

“You know how good you are to me?”

Your face lights up when you look up at him. You could almost say something you think you’d regret afterward. When the wave of bravery washes down the drain with the water from above, you settle for your usual cocky teasing: “I know. You don’t gotta tell me.”

He laughs and turns you gently so your back is to him. He shifts your wet hair out of the way, and then begins to massage your shoulders. His hands drop down your arms, squeezing and rubbing, then back up, feeling their way over your breasts and down your stomach.

“Gonna make you feel nice ‘n better, after last night.”

Your lips fall open, silently begging him not to stop, to keep going further down, to fuck you with his fingers against the cool tile.

You forget he’s a mind reader. He’s already doing it before your thought is done.

Fingers run over your clit, already sensitive and swollen, and you gasp.

“That feel good, darlin’?” he whispers in your ear.

Your head falls back to his shoulder with a moan, and he kisses your neck, sucking softly on the sensitive spots that were between his teeth last night. His fingers rub you gently.

“So pretty for me, baby.”

You can feel your legs starting to give, but his free arm wraps around your waist, holding you up so that, even if you wanted to, you couldn’t collapse.

His fingers dip lower still, parting your lips, running through your folds. He’s so good, you think you might be dreaming. Then he inserts a curled finger and you know for sure, this is no dream.

“Joel…”

You squirm under his touch, and it only pushes him further. A second finger, stretching you out more, pressing up against the soft, spongey insides of your pussy. You grip onto his arm snaked around your waist with one hand, place the other against the tile to steady yourself.

“Doin’ so good, baby, that’s it. Just like that.” His voice is as smooth as whiskey in your ear, the drawl of his accent sending you as far as the fingers hooked inside your cunt.

Your breathing starts to stammer, your stomach tightening with your orgasm fast approaching. Joel inserts a third finger, making you cry out, and your head knocks into his shoulder again. Pleasure sparks between your legs, the weight of you riding on Joel’s hand, fire igniting through every nerve in your body.

“‘attagirl, all over me,” Joel coaches you through it, his other hand forced to let go of your waist to steady you both against the wall as your release doubles you over.

You come back to earth; stars in your vision, feeling the weight of him on your back, protecting you from the spray of water from the shower, chin still dipped over your shoulder.

“We’re good at this,” he whispers, and you give a blissful smile. “One day they’ll make a movie about us.”

You come back to reality with a hearty laugh, turning back around slowly. Joel’s arms snake around your waist and he pulls you in for a deep kiss.

“Maybe one day we could do that ourselves,” you tease.

He gives a smile which means more than it looks. You’re a mind reader, too. He likes that idea. He’s…considering it.

“I gotta go,” Joel says after some time.

You nod.

He follows you out of the shower and hands you the towel he’d sat on the counter for himself, dripping off to the linen closet in the hallway for another while you pat yourself dry. You scoop up his shirt and throw it over yourself, laying back down on his bed to wait for him finishing up getting ready.

Another thing you love doing: watching him. Whether he’s driving, grabbing a beer from the fridge, or just getting dressed like right now, you like to watch him. Study him. Know him better than he knows himself.

He doesn’t typically let you watch him do much – his hands are usually all over you with the precious little time you two get together – and when he clocks you staring over at him as he buckles his belt, he snorts.

“Besotted, ain’tcha?”

He stands at the foot of the bed. You say nothing back. Then he begins crawling up, knees apart to climb over your legs, and crouches over you as you giggle.

His head drops down to give you one last meaningful kiss before you know he has to leave. When you part, his forehead leans against yours.

“Hook, line, and sinker,” he softly says.

You don’t have a reply. At least, not one you want him to hear. Yet.

“Go pick up Sarah. I’ll be gone when you come back.”

He stands, and you take his offered hand to pull yourself up from the bed.

“Don’t have to be. I’ll tell her you wanted to surprise her.”

You shake your head. “I got work later anyways. And y’all deserve some time alone to catch up. I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Okay, darlin’,” he says in a mocking baby tone, pouting his lips. Pulls you in for a quick squeeze. Then turns and wanders off down the hall to the top of the stairs.

“How will you cope without being the center of my attention?” he calls back.

You smile to yourself and watch as his figure disappears. You stand on his carpet, still, silent, until the front door shuts and his truck engine hums in the drive.

Your eyes travel around his room. His unmade bed, one big dip in the middle of the mattress where your bodies had been pressed together, limbs intertwined, sharing breath. The small pile of your clothes Joel had laid out as you dozed, neatly tucked on a dresser, your phone laying on top. A framed photo of him and Sarah on his windowsill that makes your chest tighten when your eyes find it.

You turn away and start getting ready, picking up your clothes one by one. Your panties are missing – not that they’d be much use anyways, the last state you saw them in. It’d be hot to go commando if you thought Joel might find out; less hot when you’re just about to head off on a walk of shame back to your dad’s.

You wander around to Joel’s nightstand and roll the drawer open. Pick up a pair of white boxers and pull them on. As you leave, you throw his tee over your elbow.

He won’t notice it’s gone, right?

----------

You’re perched on your window seat, watching the quiet street below. It’s been two days since you last saw Joel, strolling down his hallway to go pick up Sarah. You’d been working the past couple days anyway, but your mind had been elsewhere.

You and Joel weren’t able to see each other for obvious reasons, but he was always at the end of the phone whenever you were bored and wanted attention. Truthfully, you’d spent every waking minute hanging over your cell, waiting for it to light up with a message or call from him.

You unlock it and scroll through the last few texts you’d exchanged.

Joel: Decorations were a hit. Should be all over Instagram or whatever

You: You’re welcome ;)

Joel: Don’t I get any credit?

You: You can take the credit for blowing my back out afterward. Let me have the decs

Joel: Fair.

You smile, reading back over the messages. You’d been trying not to bother him so much now that Sarah was back, but you’re struggling to find anything to distract your thoughts from him. What he’s up to, where he is, who he’s with…and not even in a jealous way. Just…because you miss him.

That’s the weird part. Missing him.

Sure, for the last two weeks, anytime your hands have been on your body, it’s Joel’s name passing your lips in breathy moans. But missing the sound of his voice? The smell of him?

That’s new. That’s weird.

There’s a knock at your bedroom door.

“Yeah?”

Your dad nudges in, toolbox in hand. “Hey, hon. Just thought I’d have a look at that latch on your window that keeps catchin’.”

“Oh,” you say, shifting from your seat. “Sure. Thanks.”

He sets the toolbox at the end of your bed, and you shift some cushions and blankets to sit beside it. As he’s digging through his tools, he glances up and notices the men’s large t-shirt laying strewn across your pillows.

“New shirt?” he asks.

You look over your shoulder. Fuck.

“Texas Rangers.” Your dad raises his eyebrows, nodding. “Impressed.”

“Yeah, I– I, uh…” You’re scrambling for some excuse, words tripping over one another in the scram to explain. “Got it at a thrift store the other day. It’s nice to sleep in, I guess.”

He hums and then turns, completely oblivious. “Might head over to Joel’s once I’ve done this, since I got the tools out. He has some pipe in his bathroom he reckons is leakin’. You wanna come? See Sarah for a bit?”

“Maybe…” you hum, not really listening. You’re typing a message out to Joel.

You: My dad just totally spotted your shirt on my bed…

Joel: So you’ve got my shirt? I was looking all over for it.

You: Is it really that much of a surprise? Had to say I’d thrifted it

Joel: Offended by the fact you wanted him to believe anyone would throw out a Rangers shirt

You: Well, he believed it, so what does that tell you, cowboy?

Joel: Given what we know your dad’s oblivious to right now, not a lot, kid

You: Speaking of, when can I see you?

Joel: Tough right now with Sarah being home. Sorry baby. Soon as we can, I promise.

You throw yourself back onto your bed with a sigh.

“Boy trouble?” your dad asks.

“Huh?” You sit up straight. What…the fuck?

He chuckles, messing around with the window, his back turned to you. “Awfully big sigh. I know that sigh. Who is he?”

If Joel were in the room right now, he’d be masking his laughter behind a closed fist at the mere sight of your face. You stare at your dad’s back for a decent amount of time, long enough for him to turn back and look at you.

“You hearin’ me?” he asks. “It someone I know? It ain’t your friend Sam from Frank’s, is it? That boy don’t know his hand from his foot at the best ’a times. You can do better than him.”

“It ain’t a boy. And I appreciate the advice, but I’m good, Dad.”

“Speakin’ of advice…” He walks slowly over to the bed, switching out some tools. “I got this supplier whose daughter works in human resources at…uh…some company, downtown. Name escapes me. He was tellin’ me it’s good money, lotta hours…Said she’d be happy to meet with you if you wanted to go in for an interview.”

“I…I’m okay, I think. Thanks, though.”

“Sure? I thought maybe you’d wanna be lookin’ for something a little more…permanent.”

“I will,” you reply, glancing down at your phone. No new messages. “I just…I’m happy at Sal’s right now.”

“Right, right. And Sal’s been real good to you, kiddo.”

“I kinda wanna see what I can get with my degree anyway.”

Your thumbs dance over the keyboard, still hunting for attention from Joel, and searching for the right words to get it. You’re barely even present in the room with your dad when you hear him ask, “Film? You really think there’s gonna be much out there?”

Your head whips up. He’s sauntering back over to the window. Your phone lands with a thud on your bed beside your thigh.

“Uh…I don’t know. ‘s why I wanna look.”

“Hm.”

“Hm?”

He shakes his head, screwing something into your window frame. “Naw, I just…don’t know what you’re gonna find, is all.” He chuckles a little. Kinda chuckle that makes your fists ball.

You watch him through thin eyes, pulling your bottom lip under your teeth. “Well, I got Sal’s to keep me goin’ until I do find somethin’.”

Your dad doesn’t reply. You stare him down until he turns around, notices you, and raises his brows, forehead crinkling.

When he dives back into the toolbox instead of responding, you start to feel heat in your belly.

You speak through your teeth. “Is that…Is it okay?”

“Sure, hon. I ain’t tellin’ you what to do.”

“Well, you ain’t tellin’ me much else, though, so…”

“I’m only thinking,” he lifts his palms, your eyes trace them, “your degree is very specific. And there maybe isn’t a lot of specific work down this way for somethin’ like film. That’s all. I thought HR might be a good move.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. He’s closing over the metal lid.

“Then why’d I go through four years of studying it?”

“Because it interested you. And because you were good at it–”

“So, shouldn’t I be doin’ something with it?”

“–but ultimately, hon, a degree’s just a degree, you understand?”

Your face screws up, lip curled. “Huh?”

“Lotta folks don’t got a degree. Lotta folks get one, and it goes to waste. They spend all that money, all that time…and work part-time in some dead-end job for the rest of their lives. Chasin’ a career that’s never comin’.”

You choke back a laugh, a stunned, confused, livid laugh. Your lips tremble and twist in and out of different shapes, trying to form words that your voice won’t speak.

“You worked damn hard to get that degree. Now, use it. Use it right.”

He slaps the toolbox closed and starts trotting out of your room, and you find your voice.

“Oh, screw you!”

Your dad’s hand hooks around the doorframe and he turns back. “Pardon me?”

“What fuckin’ right do you have to tell me I’m gonna end up in a dead-end job? Ain’t a job a job?”

“Woah, kiddo,” he holds a hand out, “no, no, that’s not what I’m sayin’. Not at all.”

“You’re saying I should give up tryna get a job I actually want, and get a real job, right? That– That film ain’t much of a thing? I worked my ass off for nothin’?”

“No, you worked your ass off for everything, and you deserve to find somethin’ that rewards all your hard work.”

“Oh, what the fuck does that even mean?” You throw your arms up, striding across the room.

He shakes his head with a sigh. “It means – I just want what’s best for you. I was just thinkin’ out loud, honey. That’s all.”

In one sweep, he’s gone. The toolbox rattles down the hall and recedes into background noise. You’re stood in a cloud of rage at your door, breath coming hard and fast out of your nose, staring at the empty hallway before you.

You stalk over to your bed and your thumbs finally figure out what to send to Joel.

You: Are you free to talk real quick??

He’s calling you within thirty seconds.

“What’s up?” his voice speaks before you even open your mouth, and instantly you feel yourself calming.

“Are you eating?”

“Mhm. Grilled cheese.”

You can hear the chewing sounds through the receiver.

“You mind swallowing before you talk?”

“Sorry, darlin’,” he chuckles a little, then clears his throat. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Just…” You sigh. “Fuck…I don’t even know.”

Your head falls into one hand as you pace back and forth.

“I had this argument with my dad; he’s goin’ on about careers and jobs and using my degree – but to do somethin’ I don’t wanna do. Then, he’s makin’ out like I’ll never find a job in film, or in anything I want. And he said that– He basically said that I’ll be in a dead-end job forever, ‘less I go work in human resources.”

Joel’s quiet for a few seconds until he realizes you’re done. “’sec, baby, I got a mouthful of grilled cheese over here.”

You roll your eyes and, after a gulp, his voice floats back through your phone.

“He wants you to– Human resources, I hear that right?”

“Yup. He says it’s a good place to be, apparently.”

“Your dad, the contractor?”

You throw your arm up in the air again. “Thank you!”

Joel and his laughter cut you short before you start another rant.

“Alright, alright, first of all…you already got a job, and it’s a good, steady job; you like it, you’re happy enough there, right?”

“Mhm,” you agree.

“Mhm. So that’s not an issue. Second, you’re twenty-three. That’s still young, darlin’. You got your whole life to try and find somethin’ you really like. Hell, I didn’t figure it out until I had Sarah. You got time. Don’t worry about it.

“And third: who gives a fuck what your dad thinks? If you’re happy, what’s it matter what him or anyone else says?”

You nod, sitting down on your bed. Your eyes are starting to well.

“Hm?” Joel beckons.

“Yeah,” you squeak.

“Don’t you worry that pretty little mind, baby. It was just an argument. He wants what’s best for you, ‘n if I know him half as well as I do, he just got his words a little jumbled up.”

“I’m still fuckin’ mad at him, though,” you mumble.

Joel laughs. “Yeah. ‘n I reckon you’re allowed to be, for a little bit.”

“Thanks. Sorry for interruptin’ you ‘n your grilled cheese.”

“’s alright. I gotta make you one of these next time you’re over here, I’m a master at ‘em. Sarah’s favorite.”

You lay back on your bed, giggling. “I’m gonna hold you to that, y’know.”

“Oh, I know, kid. Hey, I was actually thinking of dropping by tomorrow mornin’, got some papers your dad wants to take a look at. Figured I’d catch ‘im before he goes off to work.”

You feel your heart swell just at the thought of him being in front of you, actually in person, standing right there. Cotton-covered chest to be touched, worked hands to be held, rough but gentle lips to be kissed.

Hard cock to be – never mind.

“Yeah?” you say, coolly, trying not to let him in on the butterflies swirling around your stomach.

“Yep. Better be awake. I’ll want my t-shirt back.”

“Setting my alarm as we speak.”

----------

You’re in the kitchen making breakfast when you hear the front door open, and an all too familiar Texas drawl.

“Anybody home?”

You lean back from the counter and stare down the hallway toward the door, which he closes and turns to face you.

“Hello, darlin’.”

“Hi,” you mutter, smiling.

“Dad in?”

You nod. “Upstairs. Getting ready.”

His fingers tug on your t-shirt sleeve. His t-shirt sleeve.

“Nice shirt.”

You give a bashful smile, but he’s grinning. The fucker loves seeing you in his clothes as much as you love wearing them. He doesn’t care.

Joel sets his papers on the countertop and runs a hand through your hair, sweeping it out of your face. You lean into his touch by instinct, then catch yourself, and move away, but Joel stays where he is.

“You okay?” he murmurs.

“Mhm. Want some cereal?”

He smiles, shaking his head, then lowers his chin and softly presses his lips to yours.

Your hands drop the box like it’s scorching hot, and link around his neck. He pushes against you, pinning you to the counter.

If it weren’t for the thudding of your dad’s footsteps down the stairs right then, you’d probably ask Joel to fuck you right here and now in your kitchen. You’re that needy.

“Hey, partner,” your dad calls when he notices Joel, now standing a good four feet away from you, papers back in his fist.

You pour some milk in the bowl and lean back against the island, cereal in hand.

“Brought that paperwork.” Joel lifts his fist, and your dad nods gratefully.

“Hey,” your dad says, turning to you and knocking your shoulder with his index finger. “Here’s the number of that guy’s daughter I was talkin’ about…”

You take a deep breath, studying the card in his hand, the name Vanessa Hart printed below some logo. Joel notices your expression when your dad holds it out between two fingers. He knows y’all fought – though he’s not meant to – but he doesn’t know you two haven’t spoken since. You ate dinner in your room alone last night.

The look in your eye catches him up just fine.

“What’s this?” Joel asks, returning the papers to the counter behind you and taking the business card from your dad’s hand. He tosses it over before passing to you. You wordlessly take it, sliding your bowl alongside his paperwork.

“She’s been thinkin’ about work. Lookin’ around for somethin’ a little more…challenging, than retail anyway. Right?”

You raise your eyebrows. “Right.”

Joel looks at you intently. Knowingly. “Thought you wanted to be a journalist, or something? Film…? No?”

You glance up at him. “I, um…”

“This is maybe somethin’ a little more realistic, y’know.” Your dad shifts from foot to foot, almost awkwardly.

“She got a degree in film,” Joel mutters, almost leaning into you to make you answer. Your eyes travel along to his shoulder. “You like film, right?”

“I like film. Yeah. It was good.”

“So, you don’t wanna do somethin’ with that?”

Your shoulders tense as you look up at him, trying to answer him honestly and at the same time, stop another heated discussion from happening between you and your dad, who then initiates that discussion himself by piping up.

“What’s Sarah doin’, again, Joel?”

You wince, knowing what’s about to happen.

“Sports Science.” Joel’s voice feels dangerous. He’s still staring at you. Vanessa’s card is beginning to tremble in your hands as you flip it over and over.

“See? Now, that, I would understand. That’s a great degree. Not that yours isn’t,” your dad shoots you a look as he’s packing his lunch into his bag, “just that, with Sports Science, I mean…she could do lotsa stuff.”

“I could do lots with film, too, Dad.” You try to mask the anger through your teeth.

“Like what?”

Joel sighs under his breath. Your eyes dart across his. You take a deep breath, steady yourself.

“Like…journalism, or production, or promotion. Lots of behind-the-scenes stuff.”

“I’m just tryna look out for you, kiddo, just tryna be realistic. Like I said last night, there aren’t so many opportunities in that sorta stuff down here. Fine, up in New York, but in Austin? Nah.”

“Maybe you just gotta move back to New York. I’ll come with ya,” Joel says, shrugging, with an expression that elicits a laugh from you. He looks relieved to see you smile.

Your dad clears his throat and takes a step closer to you. Your smile fades as quickly as it appeared.

“I just want what’s best for you. The arts…ain’t really a steady job. Somethin’ like Sports Science, see, now, that’s safe. That’s a good choice.”

“A good choice,” you echo, your face flushing. “So, mine wasn’t a good choice?”

“No, it’s just that–”

“Why are we havin’ this same conversation again, Dad?” You throw the card behind you on the counter. “I said I’d do my own thing, in my own time, and you come up with even more to shove in my damn face. You can’t just leave it? Not even for one day?”

“Aw, c’mon, hon, film? Tell me what you found, lookin’ for jobs in film. Go on.”

Joel’s head cocks and he holds a hand out. “Alright, that’s enough.”

“No, tell me. I’m seriously askin’. What did you find? ‘cause I’ve been lookin’, kiddo–”

You scoff. “Oh, you’ve been looking.”

“Yes, I have, which seems to be a damn sight more ‘n you’ve done, and there ain’t nothin’. Now, I’m sorry for bringing it up. I thought I was doin’ a good thing. Thought you’d appreciate me helpin’ out.”

“Sure. I appreciate you steppin’ foot where you ain’t wanted. And then insulting me while you’re at it.”

Your dad sighs and lifts his arms, bringing them down onto his thighs with a clap. Then he picks his bag up, slings it over his shoulder, and turns back to you.

“I just wanted to help. I’m gone, alright? Joel, thanks for those, I’ll take a look when I’m home.”

Without another word, he strides down the hall and heads out the front door.

Joel’s hand immediately wraps around your arm.

“Hey,” he says when you turn away, tears forming. “Woah, hey. It’s alright.”

He pulls you into his chest and rests his chin on your head, and you bury your face into his shirt, groaning with rage. He rubs the back of your head and hushes you as you weep into his chest.

He pulls away, cupping your chin and pushing the hair out of your face. You’re still bubbling away, Joel’s thumbs wiping away tears hot with anger from your cheeks.

“I’m not crying ‘cause I’m upset,” you sniff, and he nods, softly caressing your face. “I’m crying ‘cause I’m fuckin’ angry.”

“I know, baby,” he fusses. “He’s bein’ an ass, no doubt about that.”

“I told you.” You ball your fists and lightly bump them against his strong chest. “Fuckin’ dick.”

“Fuckin’ dick,” Joel agrees, and you laugh. “Tell me what to do to make you feel better.”

You lean back, Joel’s hand locked around yours to stop you from falling. A dark thought crosses your mind, and you do your best not to let it show through your eyes. Joel seems oblivious when he reels you in and your hands come to rest on his pecs.

“I dunno,” you mumble, eyes stuck on the fabric of his shirt.

“Must be somethin’. What do you want me to do?”

“Just…stick around for a bit? Keep me company.”

“Company, huh? What’s that entail?”

“We could…watch a movie?” Your fingers flirt with the collar of his open shirt. “…could…talk…?”

Joel studies you as you slowly peel the button-up from his shoulders, letting it rest on his biceps.

“Darlin’,” he murmurs, realizing where you’re at, “I got stuff I should be doin’ today.”

“I know. Just…make me feel better first.”

He sighs, looking at you from beneath his brows. His shirt is hanging from his elbows, his palms planted firmly against your waist. His hands are squeezing you just enough to encourage you to keep going.

“Won’t be long. Promise. You can have your shirt back, after it.”

You angle your jaw and smile sweetly at him, and he lowers his to meet you halfway. Your breath hot against his lips, you whisper, “’s not like either of us are gonna last longer than five minutes, anyway,” and he closes the space between you.

When your lips connect, Joel pushes off the counter and begins backing you toward the couch.

“I love,” you breathe into the kiss, “when you do that.”

“Do what?” he mutters back, lifting the hem of your top.

You fall back onto the couch and Joel follows.

“Give in to me.”

He pulls back, eyes skimming across your half-naked body, t-shirt ruffled up to the bottom of your bare breasts.

“That’s all I do, baby.”

You open your legs beneath him and his hips slot between yours, hardening jeans rubbing against your sleep shorts. His tongue leaves wet marks down your neck and across your collarbone, hands creeping further up your naked torso.

When you buck your hips, Joel understands, and takes the waist of your shorts in tight fists, pulling them off your legs in one movement. His hand comes down to cup your sex and shift your underwear aside. He’s moving without thinking; it’s instinct by this point. He knows exactly what to do to get you where he wants you.

His fingers move around your folds, dancing in and out of your entrance, rubbing your clit. It’s not enough. It’s never fucking enough. You whine, and he listens again, slipping two fingers inside your wet cunt.

Your back arches, chest rising to meet his. A sigh of relief passes your lips, finally feeling his body on – and in – yours again.

“We– I don’t wanna– fucking hell, Joel– I can’t wait this long for you,” you whimper, as he dips his jaw to suck a bruise into your neck.

“Hm?”

“Too – fucking – long. I need you – all the fuckin’ time.”

He’s humming against your hot skin. Your fingers are knotting in his hair, dark brown flecked with streaks of gray tangled around your knuckles.

His fingers burrow deeper, stretching your wet pussy out just right. You clench around him.

“Need you,” you breathe again, “all the time.”

“You got me, pretty girl,” Joel coos, lips now dancing across yours. “I’m here now.”

Your foreheads lock like they always do, Joel’s eyes trained on yours like they always are. He fucking loves watching you, loves the way your eyes glaze over and you submit to whatever he wants to do to you. I started it, and I know how to finish it.

His thumb begins to rub your clit, pad drawing circles around and round. Your hips lift again in response, and you feel a smirk pull on Joel’s lips. You’re writhing under his touch, the entire room filling with filthy moans of his name and of yours, tangling together in the air and knotting as tight as the pressure building in your stomach.

You reach down and begin to unbuckle his belt, hands weaving around Joel’s wrist to gain access to his jeans. Your fingers graze the rough teeth of his zipper when you hear something outside.

The sound of a car door slamming.

Your lips freeze against Joel’s. His hand stops dead against your core.

“Was that–?”

The front door bursts open and the hallway fills with the early morning light.

Joel heaves himself off of you, scarpering to the other side of the room as you straighten up, slam your sensitive legs closed and kick your shorts under the couch. Your tee is long enough to cover your thighs, only if you stay seated.

Your dad rounds the corner to the room just as you both assume position.

“Joel still around? His truck’s– Oh, hey, bud. What the hell you still doin’ here?”

Joel clears his throat. “She, uh– She said somethin’ was up with the TV. Bad signal or somethin’, right?”

“Right.” You nod almost furiously.

Your dad blinks. Looks from you, to Joel, to the TV behind him. Which is switched off.

You toe the line between still mad at your dad, and wanting to appear totally innocent. “Joel was just having a look. He, uh…switched it off.”

“Waitin’ for it to reboot.” Joel sways back to hold a steady – slick-covered – hand to the TV set. You wince as he notices your gleaming wet coating his fingers, unreadable expression on his face, and calmly holds them behind his back.

“That so?” your dad says, pouting his lips. “I didn’t notice anything last night.”

Joel doesn’t reply, instead choosing to let the moment pass in awkward silence until your dad changes the subject. Joel knows him better than most, and it works in the end, but you wish he’d just fucking say something to take your mind off of the hand he’s currently hiding behind his back and your shorts disturbing the dust under the couch.

“Left my hardhat,” your dad says, almost flatly. “You seen it, kiddo?”

You shake your head. “Nope.”

“You wanna help me look?”

Right now? With no pants on? And your best friend stood less than six feet away? You know what, I’m good, Dad.

“Not really.”

He sighs and shakes his head to Joel, a Can you believe her?

Joel sputters out a forced chuckle, which he cuts short when he notices your sharp glare in his direction.

When your dad disappears upstairs, you fish your shorts out and throw them on.

“That,” Joel leans into you, motioning to where your dad was just standing, “was too damn close, you hear?”

“How was I supposed to know he’d come back?” you hiss.

“If we’re–” another flappy hand movement between the two of you, “y’know, we gotta be on alert for any–”

“We–” you mimic his gesture, “thought we had an empty house. If he walks in on somethin’, then that’s–”

“Don’t tell me that’s on him, kid.” Joel tilts his head, inviting you to finish your sentence with something more sensible. Before you can answer, your dad calls out.

“Got it!”

His boots thud back down the stairs.

You and Joel spring back to your positions, an unassuming two meters of carpet separating you both. Your dad stands at the opposite end of the coffee table, holding his hardhat up like it’s a trophy.

“Alright,” you clap your hands, “see ya, then.”

You brush past him toward the kitchen, feigning grabbing a drink. In your wake, you hear him mumble something to Joel about you not forgiving him just yet. Joel doesn’t laugh.

Eventually, he doddles off to the door, and Joel slowly follows. You hear the click of the door handle, and the hallway floods with light again, tile floor painted with Joel’s silhouette. When the sound of the engine trudges off into the distance, the door slams shut, and his figure materializes beside you once again.

You’re holding a bottle of water against your lips. Not drinking. Joel takes the bottle and sets it down on the counter.

He doesn’t speak. Barely even looks at you. Just takes your waist and hoists you up onto the kitchen counter. It’s cold under your bare thighs, but he lifts your knees and tugs at the waistband of your shorts, slipping them off for the second time in, what, ten minutes?

You sit still and watch him, stood between your legs, looking you up and down. His gaze falls to his still soaked fingers, and with a blank expression, like it’s as normal as passing you the sauce over dinner, he lifts his hand.

“Wanna clean up your mess for me?”

He presses the pads of his fingers to your bottom lip. Asks you without words to part them.

Your mouth falls open, not because you tell it to, but because his words pour a fog over your entire body that dumbs you senseless. That same intoxicating drawl, the way his head tilts with every perfectly innocent question laced with just the right amount of filth to have you do whatever the fuck he tells you.

He pushes his fingers into your mouth, resting them on your tongue.

“Now, pretty girl. Put that mouth to good use.”

“Joel–” you mumble into his knuckles, but he shushes you.

“Clean. Them.”

In a fluttering haze, you close your mouth around his thick fingers and suck, tongue slipping over them, under, between. Joel watches almost dangerously, like a wild animal watching its prey. He’s focused entirely on your wet lips, the way they’re bobbing up and down over his knuckles.

His fingers are sweet, coated in your thick arousal, and when you loosen your jaw, he pushes them in further. Almost chokes you with the way he forces them back. His eyes are dark, clouded over by the way your pretty little mouth looks. The way it feels, choking and spitting all over him.

When your eyes close over, his free hand comes up to cup the back of your head.

“Look at me, baby,” he murmurs, and your eyes flutter back open; light seeps into your vision and chases everything but the man between your legs out of focus.

You can’t taste yourself on him anymore. He tastes like Joel again. But he doesn’t stop. His fingers hit the back of your throat, and he only withdraws them when you gag.

He slips out, soaked in your saliva, and his wet hand falls back to place on your thigh.

You’re breathing heavily, drool dripping from your lips, but you know for a fucking fact if you move to wipe it, he’ll stop you.

His grip on the back of your neck tightens suddenly.

“You wanna act like a little whore? You get treated like one.”

His hand moves to his waistband and he undoes his own belt, batting away your fingers when you try to help.

He lets you link your arms over his shoulders as he messily unzips his jeans, tugging them down only a little. His rough hand grabs your knee and hooks it over his elbow, opening your legs wide for him.

“J…”

“Shut up.”

Now’s not the time for talking. He’s got a glassy expression in his eye that you don’t recognize. He doesn’t want to fucking talk. He wants you to make him cum.

“Wanted me to fuck you on your dad’s couch, huh? Wanted to make a mess in his livin’ room?”

“Mhm,” you whine, and he lifts your ass up to bring a hand down on it. Shut up.

“’n what if he’d walked in a few minutes later than he did? Saw the pair of us? That what you want?”

You bite your lip and look at him under hooded lids; answer enough. Nah, you didn’t want your dad to see you guys. But, fuck, you liked the thought of being caught.

“Dirty fuckin’ girl,” he’s murmuring, lining up to your cunt, pre-cum soaking the reddened tip of his cock. You’re staring at it, mesmerized, mind totally blanked by it.

“Look at you,” he whispers roughly, “drunk on it, aren’t you darlin’? You want it inside you?”

You nod, but it doesn’t matter. The slightest movement of your head and he’s pushing inside you, stretching your tight hole around the thick head of his cock.

Joel groans and his head falls back, eyes on the ceiling. He makes it halfway in before he’s pulling back again.

“Fuck,” you whisper.

“Shut – the fuck – up,” he replies, hips pushing forward into yours again.

You bite back a whine as he pushes further and further, filling you up, pain and pleasure and fucking bliss rippling through you, driven by Joel.

He wastes no time letting you adjust, no long, slow strokes. No tender kisses or fingers guiding his dick in. He picks up a dangerous pace from the outset, hips snapping into yours, bouncing you against the kitchen counter.

This is what this is, isn’t it? This whole thing between you guys. You have needs; Joel has needs. You’re just both coincidentally very good at helping the other meet their needs. What’s wrong with that, right?

Your head starts to swim with the feeling of Joel’s cock spearing you, the image of your kitchen floating in and out of focus, the thought of being one doorway away from being caught. You imagine Marcia in her backyard, almost in plain view of you two right now, seeing you propped up on the counter with your dad’s best friend between your legs, fucking the hell out of you.

And then your eyes find Joel again, beads of sweat at his forehead, cheeks flushed. He meets your lazy gaze and his hand takes your jaw, thumb and finger on each side.

“Good?” he asks, breathless, teeth gritted.

You nod.

Then Joel nods. “Good.” His eyes close over and he fucks you even harder onto his length, hurting so good every time your bodies connect.

The heat is stifling, not from the Texan summer, but from the two of you – sweating, panting, fucking off one another, bodies slipping against and sticking. The air fills thick with your stifled moans, Joel’s bitten grunts, the slapping of skin, your wet mixing with his.

You can’t take it anymore. Your head lulls back with a loud, long moan. Joel knows that moan.

“Think I should let you cum?” he asks. “You think you deserve it?”

“Fuck – please – Joel,” you’re panting, and he spanks your ass again. It doubles you over; your head collapses against his shoulder.

“Mm,” he hums, contemplating. “Dunno if you do, babygirl.”

“L-let me cum,” you plead, tears falling from your eyes, electricity whirling around your core. Your head rolls around on his strong shoulder. “’m so close.”

“Know you are, darlin’. ‘s too easy to do this to you,” Joel pants, breath jerking each time his hips do. “Get so wound up for me, every damn time.”

“Joel,” you’re begging now, unable to loosen your grip on his shoulders. “Fucking – please.”

“Come over for five minutes and you can’t keep your hands off me, can you?”

You whimper in response, the feeling between your legs turning to tightly-wound pain. Your hands have come down to hold onto the edge of the counter, marble cutting into your damp skin under your grip.

“Want to…Want…”

“Tell me, baby. Talk.”

“Want to cum, Joel,” you pine, eyes screwing shut.

“I’m gonna let you, pretty girl. You don’t gotta worry about that. Just gotta ask nicely, huh?”

“Fuck,” you whisper, stars and tears clearing from your vision to reveal him once more. You don’t have the fucking energy to beg him anymore. Not like this. “Please, Joel.”

“Nicer.”

“Please let me cum, promise I’ll be good. I’ll be quiet.”

He laughs, some smug, cocky laugh. If you had a sliver of energy and half the feeling in your body, you’d bat his arm.

“Don’t want you to be quiet, angel. You wanted to get caught, remember? Get us caught, then. Let ‘em all hear just what you’re up to.”

“No,” you moan, head shaking, “don’t wanna get caught. Just w-wanna cum. Please, Joel…”

You shake your head, pathetic beg painted all over your face. Joel’s expression falters, softens, only for a nanosecond, but you know him well enough to notice it. Something in his exterior breaks, something cracks.

“Then why didn’t you fuckin’ say so?” he coos. His arms wrap around you – finally – holding you up against his torso, his lips pressed to your ear. “Come on, darlin’, you can let go.”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before it happens. Your orgasm floods over you, pulsing from your soaking pussy up and across your stomach, lighting your shoulders and tightening your grip on Joel. You bite into his shoulder, muffling a sob as your walls contract, coil snaps, tension relieves.

You fucking hurt. All over. You don’t even feel him pull out, don’t realize he’s gone until he’s pumping cum all over your stomach, jacking himself to the sound of you coming undone. It’s only when you come around and feel the hot wet rolling down your tummy that you notice.

Joel’s breathing is labored. His dark tee has sweat patches under the arms, along his chest. You can feel it on his back.

You lean against him for what feels like hours, legs either side of him, his soft dick on your stomach, cum seeping into your panties. He lets you, just holds you tight and gently sways, listening to your breath slowly steadying, feeling your body stop shaking.

His voice is nothing but vibrations under your cheek, resting safely on his chest. Your ears are still ringing too loud to actually hear the words he says.

When you don’t reply, Joel’s hands cup your cheeks and lift your head to face him. You read the words on his lips.

“Need to know you’re okay before I go.”

“I’m okay,” you mumble.

“Can you walk?”

Your eyes roll back by themselves as he takes a step back, one hand around yours, the other braced in case you fall. You slip off the counter shakily, and, with as much effort as it’d probably take to go for a hike right now in the sun, you stand straight.

“I can take it,” you tell him.

Joel takes a deep breath. “Know you can, baby. Did so well for me.” He tugs his tee down over your stomach to cover the mess he’s made. “You want help cleaning up?”

You give one lazy shake of your head, almost entirely leaning on your shoulder. “I’m gonna head for a shower anyways.”

He takes your shorts and kneels, pulling them back over your legs one by one. You’re bracing yourself on his shoulders, and he stands as he settles them on your waist.

Joel gives your hand a gentle pull and leads you down the hallway. You walk with him, knees weak, to the front door. Joel holds it open and you let go of his fingers to step into the burning sun, hand coming up to shield your eyes. The breath of fresh air wakes you up from your state a little.

“Bright one,” you murmur, as his shoulder comes to meet yours.

“Oh, mornin’, Joel,” Hank calls from the sidewalk as he hobbles by, newspaper under his arm. He sings your name and you nod back in greeting. “You’re both up ‘n about early.”

“Broken TV,” Joel waves back, turning to look at you, “and a few other things needed fixin’.”

Hank nods and keeps walking. When he rounds the corner toward his own house, you glance back at Joel.

“What?” you ask.

“Still wearin’ my shirt.”

“You want it back now? Here ‘n now?”

“If you’re offering a striptease, baby, I’ll take it. Out here or inside, I don’t mind.”

You slap his arm and turn back to head inside. “I’ve had enough of you today.”

“You call me anytime that TV starts playin’ up, darlin’,” he calls over his shoulder.

You blindly throw your middle finger up over your shoulder in response, and feel his strong fingers wrap around your wrist. He tugs you back, and you swirl around to meet his stoic gaze.

“Day or night,” he tells you, “you call me.”

He walks off to his truck.

----------

taglist: @yvonneeeee @subconsciouscollapse @leahlovestwd @peqchsoup @whorror-s @k1ttybean @whichwitchwanda @abuttoncalledsmalls @anner--nanner @jpbplvr @laysmt @ankhmutes @bookishhella @cannolighost @luvrking @mellymbee @yourwinchesterbros @nostalxgic @scottstotts @daiseygriffithx @letsgroovetonighttt @huffle-punk @unbotheredbeeeee @iluvurfather @wildcat116 @godisawomansblog @55vvaa55 @koshkaj-blog @initforthebooks @theywhowriteandknowthings @thatgirljayy@sasakipsposts @casa-boiardi @milla-frenchy @aim-formyheart @taeslarityy @lxstbxyscave23 @joelmillerxapologist @capt-rex @giixo @capricorngf @feministfanboi @fifia-writes @darleneslane @theplumsoldier @earthtogrogu @serenaxpedro @brittmb115 @jediknightjana @mrsquill (lmk if i've missed you out & check my taglist info for how to be added!)

#joel miller #joel miller fic #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #joel miller smut #fic: cowboy like me

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effy-writes · 5 months ago

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Hello, I just wanted to ask of you could do verosika x gn reader who serenades verosika, kinda like the same way moxxie did for millie in the house of asmodeous epi, after years of being in a serious relationship and proposes to verosika that way and verosika's reaction to the gesture (her love bird also is being a songbird now lol) and proposal?

Moxxie's song for millie in that epi got me crying and being a hopeless romantic. T-T

Thank you for considering my post in advance, My Liege.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

ofc! sorry this took so long, hope you enjoy! (also you didn’t specify so i’m gonna do HC’s, i can always do a oneshot for you)

~~~~~~~~~

verosika x gn! reader: you asking her to marry you HC’s

song: all i need by radiohead

• you and verosika have been dating for about 4 years now.

• she was a total mess whenever you met her because of blitz, so you literally had to fix her. she def had abandonment/attachment issues so the first year was kinda wonky

• she def got better with her issues because of the way you treated and reassure her

• however she was very hesitant to tell you she loves you, so you were the one who said it first and she gladly reciprocated

• the sex with her is amazing

• you felt ready to propose to her, but was also nervous as to what she would say. you know she loves you, but a part of you is thinking that she might not be ready for marriage and this could ruin the relationship.

• you decided to bite the bullet and prepare to propose. you wanted to sing for her at her favorite place, Ozzie’s, but you have no idea on what to even sing about.

• it took you months to write a song for her, but you finally finished the lyrics and bought her a ring.

• your last step was to ask her out on a date to Ozzie’s and she obviously said yes, two of her favorite things in the world, you and the restaurant Ozzie’s.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“why did you invite me out?” she took a sip of her champagne.

“because, i wanted to treat you nice. you deserve it…plus i got a surprise.” you winked.

“oo is it the new dragon driller?” she had a big smile on her face.

“uh..no..but just wait.”

fizz introduced you to everyone, and since you’re dating verosika everyone knew who you were.“this song is for my beautiful, amazing, and the most talented girlfriend. i absolutely love you.”

fizz handed you a guitar that has a strap so it’s easier to move around in. as you played the first notes verosika watch you in awe.

“you are all i need, you’re all i need, im in the middle of your picture lying in the reeds. i am a moth who just wants to share your light.”

verosika never heard you sing before, let alone sing about her to her. nobody has ever done this for her before.

“i’m just an insect, trying to get out of the night. i only stick with you because there are no others. you’re all i need.”

you motioned your hand to tell her to come up on stage with you. without hesitation she walked up the stairs and you two stood across from each other. you kept strumming on the guitar, “you are all i need, you’re all i need.” You swung the guitar back and got down on one knee as you pulled out and opened the ring box “will you marry me?”

verosika cupped her hands over her mouth as her eyes watered up. “yes!” she choked.

with a big smile on your face you pulled her into a tight hug. “i love you so much, V.” you mumbled, pulling away to slip the ring on her finger. “you’re all i need.”

#helluva boss #helluva boss x reader #verosika x reader #gn reader #verosika #hc #song fic

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crappymixtape · 6 months ago

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tangled • part one

PART II • PART III • PART IV • PART V • PART VI ❝ all you’ve known your entire life is in the inside of your tower – the brick walls covered in your murals skating around you in a semi-perfect circle, the view from the very top one that would take anyone’s breath away, but how could it be beautiful when you could never leave? that is, until an unexpected someone happens upon your hidden tower and offers you a chance to escape | ( 3.2k, tangled AU • fluff, angst, strangers to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

S E T M E F R E E, O H I P R A Y 🎶 cowboy take me away, fireswimmer

You were up with the birds, awake as fingers of sunlight slipped through your window and fanned out over the quilt you’d stitched together during the winter months. Spring was coming to an end and the days were growing warmer, enough to probably not need your quilt any longer, and when you stepped out of bed onto the cobblestone floor you felt a buzz of inspiration zip through you.

Maybe it was the way the sun crept through your window or maybe it was the sound of the waterfall rushing just outside the tower, but you wanted so badly to run your fingers through the grass. Hear the way the breeze blew through the trees. Dip your toes in the water and look at the details of a petal up close and–

“Rapunzel! Let down your hair!”

Mother’s voice drifted up from the bottom of the tower and you felt your heart hammer in your chest. You’d never asked her to leave the tower before, hadn’t asked her for much honestly, but with your birthday coming up maybe she would make an exception.

Every year, on the eve of your birthday, lights would illuminate the sky. Dancing and swirling among the stars and drifting beneath the moon. Beautiful and sparkling and it happened every single year. Why? You were dying to find out. They weren’t far from the tower, surely she would entertain your request. After all, it was your birthday.

“Rapunzel! I’m not getting any younger down here!”

“Coming, Mother!” you called back and tossed your long, shiny locks up over the hook spun into the roof of the tower. They cascaded down the wall and landed in a spun pile at her feet.

Pulling and pulling and pulling, Mother ascended up to the window inch by inch until she stepped up onto the ledge and into your circular room, “Good morning, dear.”

“Morning, Mother.”

“It’s time to brush your hair dear. I saw on the way up, you’ve got twigs tangled up in the ends. Hardly a way to treat such beautiful locks, my goodness. What do you do all day? Tsk. Just another reason for me to keep you here, you can’t even manage to properly care for yourself.”

A pang of shame hit you square in the chest and you wrapped your arms around your torso, making yourself smaller. Unseen. Unheard.

“Sit,” Mother said pulling up a stool and you did as you were told, sitting on the small surface as she took the chair behind you, brush in hand. “Now sing me our song. You know how much I love it,” she demanded, not asked, and you did as you always did…

Flower, gleam and glow, Let your power shine, Make the clock reverse, Bring back what once was mine.

Heal what has been hurt, Change the fates' design, Save what has been lost, Bring back what once was mine. What once was mine.

“That’s my girl,” Mother appraised, running the brush through the ends of your hair and pulling too hard at the end, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“Mother…” you started, hesitant, reluctant. Should you ask? She seemed in as good a mood as ever.

“What is it?” she snapped, short. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, but something in you pushed. Please, please ask. If you don’t ask we won’t ever know. And you had to know.

“I was thinking–”

“Never a good thing,” Mother teased meanly and you bit your bottom lip between your teeth. Nerves swelling in your chest.

“I was just thinking...tomorrow is my birthday and well–well, there’s something I was hoping we might be able to do.”

Mother hummed in her throat, a sharp thing that held irritation, like you were a pest she couldn’t rid herself of. “And? Rapunzel come now, speak up!”

“And–and I was wondering if you might take me to see the lights at the castle. They’re there every year on my birthday! They can’t be stars…I’ve charted them all and I just…I want to see what they are–”

“The lights?” Mother started to laugh. “The lights? Rapunzel you must be joking.”

“No, I’m not…I’m not joking, Mother I really do want–”

“Truly, how could you think I would just take you–”

“Mother, it’s what I really want! I just want to see the lights!” you shouted, but as soon as the words left your lips you clamped your hands over your mouth. Afraid of what you’d just done.

Mother narrowed her eyes at you, lips firmed into a twisted line, angry and her patience evaporated as she took a step toward you and you shrank again.

“You will never raise your voice at me like that again, is that clear?”

“Yes, Mother.”

Her voice notched up in volume as she stepped closer to you.

“And I don’t ever want to hear about those lights again, is that clear!”

She was closer still, breath heated and harsh against your cheek.

“Yes, Mother.”

Towering over you, Mother took you by the wrist and roughly pulled you up to her face so that you were inches away, the heat of her words spilling and burning and wicked, “And you will absolutely NEVER, EVER be leaving this tower! Is that clear??”

When you spoke for the final time your voice cracked, tears streaming down your cheeks, chest burning with embarrassment and shame and regret. “Yes, Mother.”

Letting go of your wrist, Mother sighed and sank back into her chair, eyes closed and fingers pinching her the bridge of her nose.

“Ugh, now I’m the bad guy.”

You sniffed, wiping your eyes hastily with the backs of your hands, trying and scrambling to regain your composure. Afraid to push her even the tiniest bit further. You wished you’d never asked, wished you kept your thoughts to yourself. The lights, your birthday, all of it. Wished you could take it all back.

Clearing your throat you sat back on your stool, curled into yourself as you peered up at Mother sitting her in chair. Impatient. Bothered. Exasperated.

“Mother…” you started tentatively, “I know what I want for my birthday now.”

“And what’s that?” she sighed.

“New paint? The kind made from the shells you once brought me.”

She fixed you with a look, the way you might regard a dog begging for scraps, “Well, now that is a long journey, Rapunzel.”

“Please? I promise not to ask about the lights again,” pressing your hands together you tried to look sorry, thankful, grateful, please.

Mother sighed again, but you held onto hope. “Oh, alright,” she conceded, standing from her chair to gather her things. Surely you couldn't do much damage over a few days. “I’ll be back in three days time. Are you sure you’ll be able to manage without me?” she asked.

You gave her a small smile, “Yes, mother. I’ll be fine.”

“You know I love you,” your mother said, a tight smile pulling at her lips.

“Yes, mother. I love you too,” you murmured.

“I’ll see you a bit, my flower!”

And with that you watched as she descended the tower, your hair in her hands sliding down, down, down to the grass below and off into the open, free, world you wanted so badly to explore, only to stand at your window while Mother disappeared into the vines draped at the edge of the meadow and into…well, unlike you, where ever she wished to go.

I SAID I WANNA TOUCH THE EARTH, I WANNA BREAK IT IN MY HANDS, I WANNA GROW SOMETHING WILD AND UNRULY.

Unbeknownst to you, the path to your freedom lay in the hands of a man just on the other side of the very vines Mother had just stepped through. Well…technically he was a man, but really more boy in the way he held himself. And carried conversation. And continually found himself in trouble because of his inflated ego, but a man nonetheless, holding your freedom.

Flynn Rider, a rogue, a thief, a ruffian. Just over six feet tall with sweeps of dark brown hair, skin like it held all of summer and the sun beneath it, eyes like burnt sugar and dotted in freckles and apparently much faster than he looked.

“RIDER!”

“Sorry, boys, gotta go!”

Flynn crashed through the line of shrubs he’d just hurled himself into and fell out the other side, scrambling to find his footing. He was probably going to regret the decision he’d just made, but that would be a problem for future Flynn Rider.

Patting the satchel at his side he peeked into make sure the contents were still intact and at the sound of thundering hooves picked his pace back up, sprinting through the woods.

It was a beautiful day, not a cloud in sight, rays of sun shining through canopy and dappling the forest floor with warm sunlight. It would have been even more beautiful if Flynn wasn’t being chased by the King’s guard, but he supposed it was the only option when you’d stolen the crown of the missing princess.

Chest heaving with the effort, he pushed his legs to go faster. Sprinting over fallen logs and thick brambles, wincing but not stopping as they pulled and slashed at the thin fabric of his tunic. He had to find cover before he ran out of breath or else he’d face the gallows.

Again.

It wasn’t that he was a bad guy. He wasn’t murderous or wanted for treason or anything. In fact, he wanted to be done with this life on the run and so he hoped this might be his ticket out. Hawk the lost princess’ tiara and hop a boat to somewhere far, far away.

His lungs started to burn as he sucked in air, sidestepping a particularly nasty blackberry bush and earning a scratch across his cheek. “Damn,” he hissed, wincing at the pinch of pain. He could hear the guards closing in behind him, the captain giving orders to his men to split up and Flynn knew his time grew short.

An arrow grazed past his ear as his slammed into a tree, the tip sinking into the bark just inches from his hands.

Too close.

“A promotion to which ever of you idiots catches, Rider!” the captain shouted and it pushed Flynn into another sprint.

Step over step over step, out of the thick stand of trees and into a wide field of wheat. The shhh shhh shhh of the grass against his trousers hissing as he stumbled once on a dirt clod and again on a molehill until the third time he wasn’t so lucky.

The toe of his boot caught on a rock dug into the dirt, sending him flying forward and over the edge of an embankment. Tumbling head over heels down, down, down and hitting the bottom with a heavy THUD!

“Sir! We’ve lost him!”

“What d’you mean you’ve lost him??”

“I–I’m not sure, sir. We–we’ve lost visual.”

“Bloody useless–if you lot can’t find him, then I’ll do it myself!!”

Groaning, Flynn pushed himself up from where he’d landed and blinked away the knock to the head he’d just earned for running through a damn field. Voices carried down the embankment and he could hear the King’s guard scuttling about back up the hill – they didn’t know where he was.

Scrambling back up onto his feet, Flynn quickly checked to make sure the tiara was still in place before frantically looking for an out. He had a moment’s cover while they tried to find him back up at the top, but surely they’d see the bent wheat stalks at some point. The bottom of the gully was more of the same, thick brush and brambles and trees and…vines? All drooping down just above the ground at the same angle and blowing just ever so in the breeze.

Brows knitted together he pushed a hand to them and stumbled forward a bit when his hand fell through them, not solid. So he pushed further still, watching as his arm disappeared further and further until he was completely concealed.

“Sir! We found something!”

Sucking in a gasp, Flynn pressed himself against the rock of the tunnel he’d just discovered and held his breath. The King’s guard tramped down the hill and trotted right past his hiding spot, their shadows dancing across the vines as they concealed him out of sight.

“He’s here somewhere, keep looking!”

The sound of hooves slowly disappeared and when quiet flooded back in, Flynn could hear the sound of a…river? A waterfall? Birds and a soft breeze across his skin…taking a few steps toward the bright light at the other end of the tunnel Flynn shielded his eyes in the crook of his arm and walked out into the most beautiful place he’d ever seen.

A waterfall cascaded down a cliff at the far edge of the little valley he’d wandered into, crashing into the rocks below and fanning out into a river that wound its way through the ground and past his feet. All manner of birds chirped and sang as they flew through the cloudless sky, landing peacefully in the trees. And there, just in the very center, a tower made of brick and cobblestones with a thatched roof, a chimney and windows all around but…no way up?

He knew he couldn’t stay idle, even if he was out of sight for now, surely the King’s guard would find him. Taking one quick loop around the tower, there was still no door in sight, so snatching the pair of daggers from the belt at his waist he stabbed one between the bricks high above his head and pulled to test his weight. When it held he found his footing and drove the second dagger in and arm over arm began to climb up to the largest window.

His biceps were burning, his shoulders on fire. There were a few times Flynn even thought he would surely fall to his death, but slowly he made it up, up, up and when he finally fell through the window gasping for breath, he prayed to whatever gods there may be that he might find a bed at the top of the bloody tower. Stealing a crown, outsmarting two idiot thugs and then running from the King’s guard was no easy feat and he could feel exhaustion in his very bones.

Heaving himself up off the cobblestone floor he loosed a heavy sigh of relief and pushed his hair from his eyes.

“Gods, finally. Alone at last.”

And then with a very loud CLANG! everything went black.

IN THE COMFORT OF YOUR ARMS, ON A PILLOW OF BLUE BONNETS, IN A BLANKET MADE OF STARS, OH, IT SOUNDS GOOD TO ME.

There was a man.

In your tower.

In your room.

AT YOUR FEET.

How he’d made it all the way to the top of the tower without the aide of your hair was beyond you, but as you peeked out at him from behind your mannequin you couldn’t help the tiny pang of guilt in your chest. Maybe you didn’t have to hit him with your frying pan, but it was too late for that now.

You’d never seen one before, only knew what Mother told you: dark, beady eyes and sharp fangs, gnarled hands to snatch you with and kidnap you away into the night.

Stepping out from your hiding place you took a tiny step forward, the smallest step, and poked him with the handle of your pan.

“HEY!” you shouted, but he didn’t move. “Oh, gods…” Did you kill him?

Another few steps and your bare toes nearly brushed his arm. Slowly extending the pan again you turned his head with the handle and nudged his lip, but in place of scary fangs were teeth. Just like yours. Bending down carefully you lifted a hand to his face and hesitated, waiting for something to happen, but his steady breaths continued to fall and his eyes remained shut.

A cut chased across his cheek, the tiniest streak of blood along with it, and your brow furrowed with worry. Did it hurt?

You ghosted your hand over his, just as normal as ever though a bit rough and maybe a little dirty, but wide and warm. Not gnarled. Not scary. You wondered at what it would feel like to hold it, yours so small and his so big.

Slowly, gently, your fingers trailed through the sweep of brown hair covering his face and brushed it aside to reveal mole dotted skin, warm and golden like summer and he’s beautiful. The most wonderful thing you’ve ever laid eyes on and you want to see more and–

“Unghh…”

CLANG!

You instantly regretted hitting him again, but what were you supposed to do? He opened his eyes and began to stir and what if he’d jumped up to grab you?

A groan escapes your lips and you rough your hands over your face, you still have a man in your tower. What to do, what to do. As you took stock of your modest surroundings there wasn't much to work with. Your mannequin, a small stove, things for baking and sewing and painting, your bed, your closet–

Your closet!

Blowing a puff of air between your lips, you bent down and grabbed hold of his feet and pulled a little. When he didn't stir you pulled again. A little more, a little further, a little further and further and straining, struggling almost dropping him, you shoved him into the wardrobe and slammed the doors shut, propping the handles closed with a chair.

“Oh! Oh! I did it!” you squealed, sweat clinging to your brow, giving a little jump of excitement. “I did it!! I’ve got a person in my closet. I’ve got a person in my closet…I’ve got a person in my closet! Mother thinks I’m too weak to handle myself, huh? Well, we’ll just see about that!”

And as you took a victory lap around the room your eyes caught something on the floor. A bag you hadn’t seen before and as it fell open, the contents inside flickered in the light as it came through the cracks in the roof.

Picking up the satchel you pulled back the flap and found something even more beautiful than the man you’d just shoved into your closet.

Gold. Purples and pinks and turquoises and glittering in the sunlight and as you carefully picked it up, you were surprised at how heavy it was. Eyes narrowing, you hold it closer to look at the intricate way the gold pieces twist around the jewels and gems, securing them in place and creating little flowers along the sides.

A smile flickers at the corners of your lips. It looks just like the pictures from your fairytale books. The kind of thing only a princess would wear. Laughing softly you step in front of your mirror and hesitantly hold it up over your head. Just for a moment. Just to see what it would look like…

Slowly, softly you lowered it and let it settle upon your head and a flash of light strikes you. A memory, bright and sharp and vivid. A spinning sun hanging overhead. The most lovely laughter, like music, like a song. A warm embrace. A lullaby.

BANG!

Sounds from the closet and you nearly fling the crown to the ground. How foolish of you to let you guard down. How could you forget? You could hear Mother scolding you, telling you how stupid you were, how you could have been kidnapped or killed.

Heart hammering against your ribs your eyes settle back on the closet as it bangs again.

Your guest was awake.

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