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flowersforbucky · 4 months ago

Text

moth to a flame

bucky barnes x reader / winter soldier x reader

"I know you. even when I know nothing else, even when I don't know myself, I know you."

word count: 4.9k

summary: bucky is triggered into the winter soldier during a mission and then goes MIA, until he seeks you out in the middle of the night.

warnings/tags: SMUT, canon divergence (bucky hasn't been successfully deprogrammed in this), kind of dub-con, language, some violence, reader is afab, no use of y/n, friends with benefits situation, angst with a happy ending, 18+ only

“You've reached Bucky. I can't answer the phone right now but leave me a mess–”

You hang up before the voicemail recording finishes. You already knew he wasn't going to answer, just as he hasn't answered any of the other thirty-something times you've dialed his number over the course of the last few days. Or read any of the two dozen text messages.

The messages had stopped delivering and the calls had started going straight to voicemail almost two days ago at this point. And yet you still got your hopes up every time you checked your phone, only to be met with gut-wrenching, nauseating disappointment.

It had now been three days of this - not to mention picking your cuticles until they bleed, flipping back and forth between every news station on your TV in hopes (and fear) of seeing his name, a few collective hours of sleep each night, and too much Red Bull.

Just when you were thinking about trying to kick your caffeine addiction, too.

Three days of feeling completely and utterly helpless.

You place the phone back down on your coffee table, staring down at the thick, white cast encasing your left leg from your foot to just under your knee.

Useless.

You knew you were doing what you physically could - the spread of laptops and tablets on the table in front of you continuously supplying data from facial recognition programs across the United States.

Realistically, you knew he could be on the other side of the world by now, but that didn't stop you from checking. It was the only thing that you felt you had any control over right now.

But it wasn't enough. Not when Steve, Sam, Natasha, Sharon, and every other currently able-bodied team member are out scouring every safehouse and known former HYDRA base in the tri-state area while you're holed up in your apartment with a fractured fibula and a brain that won't let you stop reliving the moments before he went missing.

“This is as straightforward as it gets,” Steve re-assures you both for what felt like the dozenth time that day. “You'll be in and out in no time.”

“So straight-forward that you're going to hang back here while we do all the dirty work?” You joke as you make the final adjustments to your parachute.

“We've been monitoring this base for months,” he reminds you. “This place is as abandoned as they come. Get in, get the intel from the database, and get back to the jet.”

“And then blow the place to smithereens,” Bucky adds with a devious grin.

“And then blow the place to smithereens,” Steve agrees.

If only things had been as simple as he had expected.

You had a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach from the moment that you and Bucky landed on the ground outside of the HYDRA base. You told yourself that you were being irrational - but you couldn't shake the looming feeling that something was going to go wrong.

“See?” Bucky says after removing the USB drive from the computer. He sticks the device in the breast pocket of his tactical vest before edging you towards the desk. “Easy-peasy. You've been worried for nothing.”

“I have not been worried,” you deny, leaning against the edge of the desk. “This place is just old, and smelly, and creepy.”

Bucky takes a step closer to you so that there's no space left between you. He places his hands on the desk on either side of you, enclosing you.

“You think that I can't tell when you're nervous?” He says quietly, studying your face. You can smell a lingering hint of cool mint from his mouthwash. “That I haven't spent enough time learning your body to read you like an open book?”

Your thighs clench together and your nipples pebble at his words. You're almost embarrassed at how easily his voice, his scent, his closeness elicits a physical response from your body. Almost.

“What I think,” you murmur against his mouth. His hands come to grip your hips as he nudges your thighs open, standing between your legs. “Is you're crazy if you're thinking about trying to fuck me in an abandoned HYDRA warehouse.”

He exhales a dramatic sigh. “You can't blame me for trying.”

“I am relieved to know that you'd even want to do that here,” you say, hopping down from where you're perched on the desk. “I really think that shows you've processed your trauma–”

You're cut off by the room going completely dark. Every light, every computer, turns to black.

Bucky's flesh hand instinctively reaches to grab your wrist in the dark, tugging you to him.

“What the fuck,” he groans under his breath.

“We need to get out of–” you start to state the obvious but close your mouth when the computer that you and Bucky had retrieved the data from turns back on.

And then a computer to the right - and then across the room - and another to the right - and one to left - until every computer is on and showing the exact same screen. Bucky's hand grips yours so tightly that it borders on being painful.

Displayed on dozens of screens throughout the room is the face of a man. A man who you've never met, but recognize immediately.

“Zola,” Bucky whispers almost inaudibly.

“Sergeant Barnes,” Zola addresses him with a perverted smile. “Welcome home,” his voice pours from every computer speaker throughout the room and echoes off the walls.

“Steve?” You whisper urgently, clicking on the communication device hidden in your ear. “Steve, we've got a prob–”

“There's no use in that,” Zola interrupts you. “It's too late. They're almost here.”

The following sixty seconds were a jumbled blur that you were still trying to piece together in your mind.

You remember hearing the stream of words spoken in Russian.

Longing. Rusted. Seventeen.

You remember Bucky screaming at you to run, the sound of Steve's voice in your ear telling you that back-up was on the way and asking a dozen questions that you were too overwhelmed to respond to.

Daybreak. Furnace. Nine.

You remember begging Steve to hurry. You remember pleading with Bucky to come with you to try to get away; pleading with him to just look at you, just stay with you, help is coming -

Benign. Homecoming. One.

You remember the moment that Bucky went completely still as the room was infiltrated by HYDRA agents.

Freight car.

You knew that Bucky wasn't there anymore. You could sense it in his stance, in the way he wouldn't meet your eyes, in his silence.

Before you could say anything else to him, close to a dozen HYDRA agents came barreling towards you both. He charged through them, taking down one after the next with ease, until there were just a few left standing.

It was a side of Bucky you'd never seen. You thought that you had witnessed his strength, his agility, his determination, his ruthlessness working beside him in this field - but you then saw just how much he had been holding back.

He fled past the remaining few, out the door and down the hallway of the warehouse. The agents turned to follow him, forgetting about you - until you threw a knife directly into one's neck from behind.

Another agent shot at you, the blow hitting your bulletproof vest and sending you flying backwards onto hard cement.

Before you could catch your breath, there was a sharp cracking noise and a blinding pain radiating from your lower leg - but it was short lived.

The last thing you recall is the man's boot swinging towards your face.

You woke up some number of hours later, in a hospital bed with your temple throbbing and leg elevated in a cast.

“Hey,” a soft voice calls from your right. Natasha stands up from the singular chair in the room, both concern and relief evident across her features. “You're okay,” she begins to assure you. “You have a concussion and a fractured–”

“Where's Bucky?” You interrupt her, your voice scratchy. You clear your throat. “Is he okay? Did Steve find him? Did HYDRA get–”

“HYDRA didn't get him. Steve took care of the last of the agents after him,” she stops you from rambling. There's an immediate sense of relief wash over you.

“But we haven't found him yet,” she adds carefully. “Everyone is out searching for him now. You know we won't stop until–”

A gentle knock on your apartment door snaps you back to reality.

You freeze, your heart jumping to your throat. You stand as quickly as you can manage, grabbing your crutches propped up next to you on the couch.

“It's just me,” a feminine voice calls from the other side of the door. Your heart goes from your throat to your stomach. Not him.

“I'm sorry, I should have text you first,” Natasha continues. “But I brought you food. Street tacos from–”

You turn the deadbolt and unhook the chain lock before swinging the door open.

“You look–”

“Like hammered shit?” You finish for her, nodding your head towards the inside of the apartment as indication for her to come in.

“I was going to say exhausted,” she says, walking past you with a large paper sack of take-out food. Your stomach growls at the aroma - when was the last time you ate something more than a bowl of cereal or granola bar?

“Your favorite,” she tells you, placing the bag on the kitchen counter. “Extra salsa verde and lime wedges. Have you gotten any sleep recently?” Her eyes skim across the empty energy drink cans littered around the kitchen.

You maneuver yourself onto one of the barstools at the kitchen's small island, leaning your crutches on the edge of the counter.

“Yes,” you mumble. “For forty-five minutes from 2:30 to 3:15 today.”

She lets out a long groan, rolling her eyes at you.

“You're supposed to be healing from a concussion,” she reminds you, taking a seat for herself. “Which generally doesn't include sleep deprivation and excessive use of computer screens.” She stares in the direction of the array of laptops that overcrowd the limited space of your coffee table.

“Did you find anything in Connecticut? What about Sam, is he back from New Jersey?” You ask, ignoring her concerns as you unbox your food.

“Connecticut was a dead-end,” she sighs. “We're still waiting to hear back from Sam. There's a safehouse up in Vermont that Steve wants to head to tomorrow–”

“You don't think there's a chance of him letting me tag along for that, do you?” You tap the edge of your cast against the base of the island with your foot.

Her eyes soften as she looks at you. You already knew the answer.

“I know this is really hard for you,” she says delicately. “I may not know exactly what has been going on between you and Barnes these last few months, but it's obvious you care a lot for him. We all do. We are going to find him and bring him home,” she assures you.

You nod at her in agreement, not quite trusting your voice enough to speak.

Your eyes sting as you attempt to blink away the tears that threaten to spill over. You had yet to allow yourself to spend any time crying these last few days and you didn't wish to start now.

Her words remind you that no one knows exactly why you are taking Bucky's disappearance so harshly. You assume that your friends have their suspicions about your and Bucky's arrangement but the two of you had agreed to keep it between yourselves.

They didn't know it had started off being a weekly occurrence - late Sunday evenings, your apartment. Or how it had quickly escalated from once a week to twice, and then from two times a week to three - and instead of just your apartment, it would happen anywhere the two of you had a private (and sometimes public) moment - up against the wall of the communal showers at the compound's gym, in the back of the Quinjet after missions while everyone else would be sleeping on the flight back home, even during team meetings with his hand creeping between your thighs while you try to stay quiet enough to not draw any attention to yourselves.

They didn't know you were supposed to be friends with benefits but that at some point during the days and nights spent underneath one another, the line between friends and something more became blurry for you.

You had just been too chickenshit to tell him.

Natasha sits across from you as you inhale the Mexican food that she brought you. She doesn't say anything else, just keeps you company in a comfortable silence as you eat your first legitimate meal in days.

“Thank you,” you tell her as you're finishing your food. “I appreciate you. I've been going a little crazy here by myself,” you add meekly.

“Of course.” She stands back up. “I would stay longer, but I've got to prepare for Vermont. We're leaving early in the morning.”

“Be safe. All of you,” you remind her. “Let me know if you guys find anything. Just tell me if there's anything at all I can do. And please let me know when you hear from Sam–”

“You'll be the first to know when there's anything to know,” she assures you gently.

“Thanks, Nat.”

“You just try to get some rest, okay?” She requests as she walks toward the door. “Maybe drink some water, possibly consider taking a nice, long shower…”

“Goodbye, Natasha.”

She's chuckling as she closes the door behind her.

You lower your nose to your armpit as soon as the door clicks shut, inhaling.

Maybe she makes a valid point about showering.

Half an hour later, there's a heavy rain beating against the windows of your apartment when you finish bathing. You secure a towel around your chest before yanking off the garbage bag that you had wrapped around your cast well enough for you to rinse off.

Belly full and body clean, you felt somewhat better; at least physically.

You listen to the rain pound down as you sit on the edge of the bathtub, massaging lotion into your skin, and wonder where Bucky is right now - if he's safe, if it's raining wherever he's at, if he's somewhere dry -

You come to a sudden halt in the middle of brushing your teeth. It's hard to tell over the deafening roar of the rain and your bathroom fan, but you could have sworn you heard the creaking of a door or window from your living room.

I double checked the door locks after Nat left, you rationalize to yourself. This apartment is on the fourth floor, no one is going to climb the fire escapes to–

There's an unmistakable shadow visible through the crack at the bottom of the bathroom door. It's gone as quickly as it appears.

Shit. You start to panic as you realize you left your cell phone in the kitchen. As quietly as you can, you look around the small room for something to defend yourself with. A hair dryer, dental floss, a few week’s worth of dirty laundry..

You hear the creaking of floorboards as footsteps seem to creep closer and closer to the bathroom door.

Crutches. You have two crutches. You can clobber them with your crutches.

“I can hear you,” you call to whoever is just beyond the door. “I know you’re out there.”

Silence. No hint of any further movement.

You place one crutch under your left armpit for support, keeping the other one ready to wield as a weapon. “You have ten seconds to get out of my apartment,” you say a bit louder, willing your voice not to waver. “I have a weapon.”

Yeah, a weapon. If you can call it that.

Ten seconds come and go, followed by another ten seconds.

You weren’t going to let someone play this game with you in your own home.

Taking one last deep breath and tightening your grip on the defense crutch, you sling the bathroom door open quickly.

“Oh my god,” you exclaim, immediately relaxing your weight against the crutches, releasing the death grip that you had on your uninjured side.

It’s dark in your bedroom save for a few pale orange string lights hung around your bed frame and the light that spills in from the bathroom, but you would recognize his broad frame anywhere.

“Thank fuck you’re okay,” you exhale, swinging yourself over to where he stands at the foot of your bed. When you’re a little over a foot away from him, you realize he’s sopping wet - his hair dripping water droplets and his skin dewy. His clothing, the same clothing that you last saw him in three days ago, clings to his body like a second skin.

He remains still as a statue, and as silent as one.

“Are you okay?” You ask him apprehensively. You give him a once over, from head to toe. You don't see any noticeable injuries, but he is trembling.

“Bucky?” You ask in a small voice.

His lips are set in a hard line. He doesn't answer, just stares at you. Stares at you like he’s trying to figure out why he’s here.

Stares at you like he’s trying to decide if he knows you or not.

The immense relief that you had felt at knowing he's alive is washed away by a sinking feeling.

His eyes trail from your face and slowly down your towel-clad body. He pauses when he gets to your foot, glancing back and forth from your cast to the crutches on either side. His brows furrow together - almost like he's in pain.

“I'm okay,” you assure him in a shaky voice. “It's just a fracture,” you explain. “I'll be healed in no time.”

You notice that his features relax a bit at your words - just enough to give you hope that Bucky, your Bucky, is in there and he's listening to you.

Do whatever you have to do to keep him here. Don't let him out of your sight. Help him remember who he is, your inner monologue screams at you. Just don't let him run away again.

“Are you cold?” You ask him. You're not necessarily expecting him to answer, you're just trying to put him at ease. “How about we get you some dry clothes?” You add, nodding towards his drenched henley.

You retreat into the bathroom, grabbing a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that he'd left over the last time he had stayed the night - the night before he went missing. They were at the top of the laundry basket - maybe not the cleanest, but better that the wet, dirty clothing he's in currently.

You limp your way back over to where he stands at your bed, leaning against the mattress for support. You set your crutches down and hand him the shirt and pants, which he hesitantly accepts. He makes no move to remove the wet clothes from his body, instead gently places the dry clothes onto the mattress beside him.

“Would you like some help?” you offer cautiously, terrified of doing anything that could cause him to run. You slowly reach towards the clothing that he had just placed on the bed, but he stops you before you can pick the t-shirt back up - grasping your wrist in his vibranium hand.

You can’t stop the small gasp that escapes past your lips. His hold on you is firm, but not painful. You could rip your hand from him if you wanted to - but you don’t.

Instead, you let him hold your hand as he begins to rub his metal thumb in a circular motion next to yours. You’re frozen; watching him carefully as he examines the movements his metal digit makes on your skin.

The goosebumps that appear in the wake of his touch don’t go unnoticed by him. His eyes trail from where his hand holds yours and up the expanse of your arm, until they land on your exposed neck. The towel covering your midsection has started to come loose, hanging low enough to reveal the top of your breasts.

He drops your hand, taking a step closer to you. You have to remind yourself to breathe - your Bucky is in there. Your Bucky, who is gentle, and soft, and would never do anything to cause you harm.

You have to trust that.

He brings his vibranium fingers up to the edge of the towel, trailing them across the mounds of your breasts. Your nipples harden right away, visible through the thin material of the towel.

You would let this play out however he wants it to. However he needs it to.

When his index finger stops where the towel is tucked into itself at your side, you forget how to breathe. He pauses for a split-second before unhooking the cloth and letting it fall to your feet.

He drinks in the sight of you bare before him, his jaw clenched and pupils dilated.

Dozens of times he has seen you like this, and never have you felt so completely vulnerable under his gaze.

And still there's a slickness gathering at the apex of your thighs.

He brings his flesh hand to your waist, putting the faintest bit of pressure against your skin. You close your eyes at the sensation - he's barely fucking touching you and you could melt into him.

Your name falls off of his lips - it's barely even a whisper, nearly inaudible but unmistakable. Your name. He remembers your name.

“Bucky,” your voice cracks when you whisper his own name back to him. His eyes snap up to yours, a mix of realization and hesitation brewing in them.

You bring both of your hands to the tail of his wet shirt, giving him time to pull away before you start to tug the shirt upwards. He doesn't stop you - in fact, he raises his own arms to help you tug the soaked fabric off of him. You toss the shirt in the general direction of your bathroom.

You didn't think there would ever come a time that the sight of him getting naked for you wouldn't make you want to drool.

You unsnap the button of his tactical pants, keeping your eyes on his face the whole time, hyper-analyzing his expression for any sign of reluctance.

You dip your fingers past the waistband of his boxers, his eyes fluttering closed as your hand travels lower.

He's already fully hard as you hold him, stroking him as best you can from inside the confines of his underwear and pants. You pump him in your hand and his head rolls back so that he's looking up at your ceiling.

Fuck, it takes all the restraint you possess to resist leaning forward and sucking on his neck.

Another time, you tell yourself, anxious about overwhelming him.

He curses under his breath - something in Russian that you don't recognize but the expression on his face indicates it to be a praise. There's a shift in his initially reserved, unsure demeanor when you begin to pump him faster.

His head snaps back down, his eyes raking up and down your body once more before he brings his hands to your lower back, maneuvering you against the bed.

You scoot until your back comes in contact with the cool satin of your pillows, relaxing into the bedding. At last Bucky begins to shed the layers of wet clothing covering his lower half, not taking his eyes off of your body as he removes his boots, followed by his pants and boxers.

He kneels on the mattress, crawling above where you lay. You want nothing more than to grab him by the shoulders and pull his mouth to yours, but you are going to let him call the shots.

He nudges your thighs apart with his knee, nestling himself between your legs. He grasps your breast in his vibranium hand, giving it a firm squeeze before rolling your nipple between his icy fingers.

He lowers himself so that he's belly down on your mattress, his face inches away from your pussy. He removes his hand from your breast and you let out a small whimper of disappointment at the abrupt lack of sensation. He uses that same hand to hike your uninjured leg over his shoulder, securing his head between the soft interior of your thighs.

He kisses you, starting at your belly button and working his way to your center. His lips feel like fire against your skin. You keep your hips planted firmly on the bed, fighting the urge to thrust your pussy up to his face.

“Please,” you whine. “Bucky, please.” You swear you can see the faintest trace of a smirk that looks so undeniably Bucky.

You clench your thighs around his face and he lets out a low, guttural groan as his mouth makes contact with you.

Normally, Bucky closes his eyes while he's going down on you - gets completely lost in it. Right now, his eyes are wide open - making sure he doesn't miss the way your mouth gapes when he rolls his tongue around your clit and the way your chest heaves when he nudges his tongue inside you.

You don't know which you find hotter.

You can already feel the tightening of a coil in your lower belly, making it impossible to resist rolling your hips to meet the torturous pace he's set with his tongue. You grind against his face, the thin layer of stubble that's grown across his jaw since you last saw him scratching against the sensitive flesh around your cunt.

You're approaching your climax when he pulls away, making you mewl at the loss of contact. His face glistens with your slick.

He flips you onto your side, placing you on your left side so that your injured leg rests against the mattress. You prop your head up with your hand as he slides in behind you.

His chest presses against your back, the heat of his body warming you all over. His flesh hand juts between your thighs, raising your right leg high enough for him to slap his cock against your pussy.

He strokes himself in his hand while he teases your folds - lubricating himself with your juices.

You turn your head to look at him right as he sheaths himself inside you, filling you entirely in one swift motion.

Fuck, you have to taste yourself on him. You can't handle not having his mouth on yours for another second.

You tilt your head back enough to connect your mouth to his - every worry you once had about coming on too strong and overwhelming him melts away as he opens his mouth for you, moving his lips against yours in an effortless rhythm.

He starts slow, quickly working up to a rapid pace as he repeatedly slams into your cervix from the sweetest angle. The sounds that you're making for him are pornographic - moaning into his mouth as his flesh hand comes around your front, landing on your engorged clitoris. He rubs languid circles while he continues to pound into you from behind.

You pull your lips away from his when you feel your orgasm building. “You always make me feel so good, you know that?” You ask him breathily, your mouth now right next to his ear.

“Every time you fuck me, I'm more sure that no one could ever compare to you. You've ruined me for everyone else. There’s only you for me.”

“Fuck,” he curses and groans your name again - it's the closest he's sounded to his normal self, which only spurs you on.

“I’ve become so fucking addicted to you in such a short amount of time,” you say in between moans as the head of his cock hits your sweet spot just right. “Think about you anytime you're not near me, drives me fucking crazy.”

He flips you - doesn't pull out - so that you're now underneath him. He goes right back to the same brutal pace, bringing his flesh hand to cradle your face as he stares down at you.

Clarity - you recognize it plain as day on his features.

He gives you a few more fast, hard thrusts before you're milking his cock through your orgasm. You crash your lips to his and he's coming - filling you up with his warm seed as he kisses you senseless.

He gradually stills inside you, his body going limp on top of yours as he rests his face in the crook of your neck. You wrap your arms around him, peppering kisses across his scarred shoulder, where flesh meets metal.

“I'm so sorry if I scared you,” he murmurs against the sweat-slicked skin of your throat after a moment. “I wasn't myself. Not even entirely sure how I ended up here - it's like I was pulled in this direction - to you,” he sighs.

You're overcome with such an immense relief at hearing him speak that you could cry. You tighten your hold around him, rubbing your hands up and down his back.

“You could never scare me, Bucky,” you assure him. He pulls out of you, rolling off of you onto the bed beside you and tugging you to his chest. Your cheek rests just over his heart.

"I know you. Even when I know nothing else, even when I don't know myself, I know you."

♡♡♡♡♡

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thanks for reading! as always comments and reblogs are extremely appreciated!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes one-shot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction

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0097linersb · 3 months ago

Text

Right Here ll

Pairings: Wooyoung x Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 6k~

Warnings: It´s a smut so +18 MDNI. THIS IS THE SECOND PART TO RIGHT HERE!! This wasn´t proofread and I kind of wrote it with my ass so I´m sorry. I´ll slowly start tagging everyone who asked me to, sorry if I forget someone I´m stupid.

Follow me on twitter pleaseeee: wooyosgfreal <3

Part 1

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

“We´re not fucking,” You informed in between labored breaths.

“We don´t have to fuck, I just need you to sit on my face.”

You never whined so loudly in your life before.

That was the one single thing you have been dreaming about hearing for weeks now and you were so happy you could practically cry, in fact, you almost came right there without even being touched.

Wooyoung noticed the semi-thorn look still present on your face and sighed, holding your cheeks so you were forced to stare him in the eyes like he was speaking to a misbehaving child, “Y/N, I don´t care. I don´t care about whatever stupid game we were playing, ok? We will wake up tomorrow and pretend this never happened and continue to be the bestest of friends, but let me have this tonight.”

“Like it never happened.” You repeat stupidly. Can´t believe you were already fucked dumb without actually being fucked. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Ok.”

“Good. Now let me make the most out of it because I´ve been thinking about this for so fucking long.”

He gave you no time to think this time, lips clashing against yours once again and you were embarrassed at how fast you melted against him – he just had a way with his mouth like you´d never seen before. His palms rubbed up your back under your shirt and you shivered at the touch, accidentally grinding against him and earning a groan in response, his hips automatically bucking up and a groan leaving his lips right against yours. Your hands flew to his hair in need, grabbing his roots as you continued to grind into him shamelessly, breathing getting harder by the second. You felt like an animal, just wanting to rip his shirt out and kiss all of his skin. You were so close from just dry humping a bit, his labored breathing mixing with yours, the sounds coming from his mouth so heavenly, the short breaths -

“Nop, can´t wait,” Wooyoung panted as he broke the kiss. You were still trying to figure out what he meant when he slid down and practically threw you up his body so fast you could only yelp in surprise.

And there it was.

The sight you´ve been dying to see.

Wooyoung under you pulling your hips so you would straddle his face.

You took a shaky breath, wanting to appreciate the view for a moment after how long you´ve been imagining it, Wooyoung looking so pretty with his long hair and bumpy nose - but he was not having it, grabbing the back of your thighs and urging you to scoot all the way forward. He did look like the happiest man on earth once you got into the position he wanted, his eyes practically twinkling as he pulled your shorts and panties to the side again, another groan leaving his lips at the sight of you.

“Fuck, can´t believe this is really happening,” He dazedly smiled before raising his head to meet your core, body supported up by his elbows.

Wooyoung took a long slow lick up your slit like he wanted to savor it, but you knew better: he was just being a tease, especially considering he was looking up at you with mischievous eyes. His lips then met your clit in a quick chaste kiss and you whined - He sure was taking his sweet time for someone allegedly so desperate. But then again, what did you expect from Jung Wooyoung?

“Let me enjoy this,” He teasingly scolded you for whining. “This is a dream come true for some of us.”

You glared at him, but the mean look was quickly interrupted as he finally - and suddenly - put his mouth to real work.

“Oh fuck,” You cursed in surprise at the feeling, hands immediately flying to the wall for support.

To say you were seeing stars was not an exaggeration, he would kiss and suck, his tongue would draw shapes against your clit that you couldn´t even make up, head too dizzy with all the sensations. You didn´t even realize you had closed your eyes but there you were, eyelids shut so tight you thought you´d never be able to see again.

“Shit,” You moaned with a spasm of pleasure.

“Told you I was good,” He smirked up at you, chin glistening and lips plumper than ever.

“Shut up,” You groaned, grabbing his hair and pulling him back where you wanted him so you wouldn´t have to look at him and his cocky smile.

He simply laughed, the vibrations against your core driving you insane as he continued with his work. Your mind was practically slime at the point, only being able to focus on your high and how close it was, you knew that for some reason you had to be quiet but you couldn´t even remember why anymore –

Oh, right: Wooyoung cocky, Wooyoung big ego, Wooyoung bad.

Wooyoung sped up his tongue and you betrayed yourself when a moan escaped past your lips, alerting him you were at the edge. You held your breath and braced yourself, ready to let go -

Wooyoung suddenly leaned back, breaking your trance, “You sound so pretty.”

You opened your eyes to look at him, thrown aback – it was once again like a bucket of water had been thrown at you.

The whole bucket, not just the water.

“What´s wrong?” He looked up at you worriedly after you just stared at him gob smacked for a second.

��I-I was close.”

“Oh, I´m sorry princess,” He furrowed his eyebrows apologetically. “Let me make it up to you.”

And so he did, his lips once again meeting your clit, tongue alternating between drawing circles, flicking it side to side and whatever it was he did that got your knuckles turning white against the wall. This time Wooyoung decided to go the extra mile, you felt a little shift in bed as he stopped supporting himself in one of his arms - but your eyes were once again shut close so you weren´t able to see what he was doing. You literally mewled when one of his fingers traced your slit before slowly entering you.

He groaned against you for the nth time, you could feel how tightly your walls were squeezing his finger, but it was mostly because you had never been this turned on before. As he ate you out, his finger gently opened you up before he added another one, little gasps leaving your lips because it was just so insane.

Was Wooyoung really that good or had you just been horny for that long?

Who knew that Jung Wooyoung, the guy you were pretty sure was gay not even 2 weeks ago, was so fucking good at eating pussy?????

The pads of his fingers found a spot inside of you that no one ever did before and you found your hips subconsciously bucking against his hand every time he pulled out.

“Fuck, I´m so close.”

You took a deep breath and prepared for the wave of pleasure to wash over you -

“Did you say something?” He asked, stopping all his movements to pay attention to you.

You opened your eyes once again, Wooyoung was innocently looking up, expecting your answer, and you were about to cry out in frustration when you realized:

He was doing it on purpose.

“I will murder you.”

“Why?” He looked so genuinely confused.

“I fucking know you, Jung Wooyoung.”

The innocent boy façade crumbled down so quickly as he smirked, “You know I like it when you´re mad.”

“You got it. Happy?”

“Well, no. You haven´t begged yet.”

“I swear to god I´ll get up and go to Mingi´s-”

“Sit on my face.”

“What?”

“Sit on it, so you´ll have full control.”

Your legs got so weak suddenly.

“I´m not above begging,” Wooyoung must have taken your shock as hesitation because he was quick to offer nonchalantly with a shrug. “If that´s what it takes.”

“I´ll suffocate you-”

“And I´ll go as a happy man, now come here,” He ordered as he leaned down so his back was now flat against the mattress. “Please?”

You didn´t really need to be asked a third time - not that you´d have the chance to anyways, Wooyoung was already eagerly grabbing the back of your thighs and pulling you forwards. He somehow even felt how you were still supporting part of your weight on your knees so you wouldn´t crush him, and not happy with that, he circled his arms around your thighs and forced you to let go, falling completely on top of him – well, his face.

The worries over suffocating him were gone in an instant, though. If you thought he was good before, it was definitely because you hadn´t tried this yet. Suddenly it was worth fantasizing all these weeks about this moment, not even in your wildest dreams (and you mean that literally) did it ever reach this level of insanity.

You felt Wooyoung´s hands grabbing your ass and kind of pushing it back and forwards against his tongue, it took a few rounds of that for you to realize what he was doing.

He wanted you to ride his face.

“Fuck,” You moaned, too overwhelmed to process anything.

Wooyoung was again not happy with your lack of action and continued to forcefully grind your core against his face and your clit kept bumping against his nose and oh god, his nose.

After being edged twice already, you were terrified of there being a third time, but it was just impossible to be quiet, you were just out of your mind, you had never seen yourself like this before. I mean, you had never felt like this before either -

Were all the men you ever slept with really just that bad?

No. Mingyu was amazing in bed, Wooyoung was just... Wooyoung.

Wooyoung and his stupid fucking nose.

At some point you gave him what he wanted without even realizing, your fingers deep within the roots of his hair as you grinded against his tongue searching for your high and he seemed to be having the time of his life, moans muffled between your thighs as he moved his head to help you out.

You didn´t think Wooyoung would be able to edge you this time even if he wanted to, considering you were practically...well, immobilizing him - but you´d also never doubt Jung Wooyoung´s ability of being annoying and you were so so so fucking close.

“Please.”

Were you begging?

You?

Begging Jung Wooyoung?

Has he really driven you that low?

Wooyoung´s fingers dug into your thighs, your ass, your waist, anything he could reach - and that´s how he took you by surprise once again; about 2 seconds before your high hit, Wooyoung managed to flip you over and climb on top of you in between your legs.

“This was fun,” He smiled and gave you a quick peck on the lips. “Want to start the episode over?”

This situation was so surreal that your brain couldn´t even try to process it, staring blankly at him as your chest heaved up and down against his.

“Jung Wooyoung, I´m being so serious right now.”

“What?”

“What twisted stupid little game are you playing?”

“Oh, no games. You said we couldn´t fuck so I stopped before you know, it could get to it.”

You stared at him like he had just told you the Earth was flat. You hated him so much you hated yourself - but at the same time, it was like looking in the mirror. You felt so fucking bad to everyone you ever slept with before, if you knew how annoying it was you´d have never been the way that you are.

You could curse at him, you could yell at him, you could even kick him out of your place, but at the moment, none of that would give you what you wanted, so for now, all you had to do was take a deep breath, swallow your pride and admit you just got out-brattied by Jung Wooyoung. You could kill him after he fucked you. Wait-

or -

OR-

“Restart the episode,” You ordered after over a literal minute of silence, rolling down to his side in bed.

“What?” Oh, the amount of money you´d pay to see the look of shock and desperation on his face again. He was just so sure you´d back down and ask him to fuck you.

“Restart the episode,” You repeated yourself.

“Oh, ok,” You watched as he gulped and did as he was told, adjusting his body so he was comfortable against the pillow as he pressed play on the remote.

You unpresumptuously turned tonyour side, placing your thigh on top of Wooyoung´s and your hand on his chest, his body jumping at the contact.

“Jumpy, are we?” You teased, using his own words against him.

“What are you doing?”

“Cuddling. Relax your arm.”

Wooyoung skeptically wrapped his arm around your shoulders so you´d both be more comfortable and you snugged into him, waiting for him to get his guard down and ignoring how you could literally see his dick throbbing in his sweatpants.

Serves him right.

Once his breathing was as back to normal as possible, you decided it was time to attack. His body was still tense and you knew he was not paying attention to the TV, probably stuck in his head trying to come up with another plan since his first one failed, his feet twitching restlessly.

Maybe Mingi was right, why couldn't you two just fuck like normal people without having to write a 600 pages long tactical book on how to get to it?

Ignoring the deep voice of reason sighing in your head – Oh god, when did Mingi become the voice of reason on anything? - you quickly climb on top of Wooyoung to straddle him. He tried to sit up in reaction but your palm against his chest pushed him back down. He stared up at you in surprise, mouth opening and closing like a fish as he scrambled for something to say.

“You know what we can do, though?” You asked, bending down so you could kiss his neck.

“What?” He stuttered; shivers running up his body caused by your warm mouth against his skin.

“You´ll see.”

You felt his pulse racing under your lips, tracing his vein with kisses and gentle bites, even a suck here and there to leave a mark because you wanted him to look in the mirror for the next weeks and remember the day he lost.

Soft little moans and gasps filled your ears, his hands found your waist and held you like he wasn´t sure if he wanted to pull you closer or push you away. Wooyoung´s neck was just so sensitive, it was driving you insane.

You pushed his shirt up to his chest as you slid down his body, lips trailing their way from his abdomen to the waistline of his sweats. This time you went straight to business, pulling his pants down enough so his cock could spring free and you were so happy with that you saw: Wooyoung was so hard, painfully hard - You allowed yourself to enjoy his suffering because 1. it was his own fault and 2. revenge.

You gently wrapped your hand around his member and after wetting your lips, you pressed a kiss to his tip, his whole body shivered, and a choked moan left his mouth in response. You slowly traced his cock with your tongue from the bottom to the top and the groan echoing the walls was like music to your ears. His hands were gripping the sheets tightly. His whole body was tense.

“Wooyoung, love,” You called with the sweetest voice you could mutter up.

“What?” He answered in between gritted teeth as you finally wrapped your mouth around his tip. You circled your tongue around it slowly before giving it a gentle suck, letting spit dribble down as you pulled away. “Fuck.”

“Pay attention. I´m going to be clear from the start,” You warn him, slowly pumping his now wet cock . “I´m not finishing you off, period. Now, should I continue or should I stop?”

“Fuck. Continue,” He groaned at your ministrations.

And you obeyed. You didn´t want to tease him anymore, you just wanted to get him worked up enough that he wouldn´t be able to think properly – and then, hopefully, he´d finally throw you down and fuck you without being annoying.

You wrapped your lips around him once again, bobbing your head up and down, reaching deeper each time, twisting your hand at the base for some extra flare as Wooyoung´s hands found your roots. He bucked his hips in pleasure, pushed your head down once or twice in reaction to something you´d done, rewarded you with moans and groans. You kind of really enjoyed this but you´d be caught dead before admitting it - Wooyoung´s voice was just really nice.

“Fuck, you´re good at this,” He groaned and you simply hummed in agreement, rejoicing at the moan he let out because of the vibrations around him. “Even better than I imagined. Fuck.”

Your mind was also filled with curses, your walls desperately clenching around nothing as you mentally begged for Wooyoung to just fuck you soon or you´d cry. Hopeful, you sped up your actions, his breathing matching the fast new rhythm, and you could tell he was close by the way his hold on your hair got tighter and his hips started erratically bucking up.

Ok, showtime.

You waited for the exact moment his moans got higher to pull away from him, getting back on your knees and just staring at him, waiting to see what it was gonna be.

He looked confused, then angry, then it seemed like he finally understood what he had agreed to. He stared at you like that for a few seconds and you were kind of starting to reconsider your whole life when he interrupted you; Wooyoung sat up and grabbed your waist, flipping you around so he was on top of you once again.

“Ok, you won. Happy?” He was smiling but his eyes looked kind of dangerous, like a cat´s. His hand was around your neck, not squeezing it, just holding you down.

“Won what?” You played dumb.

“Stop,” He glared at you, unamused.

“Ok.”

“I´m going to fuck you now.”

“Ok.”

“Awn, is that all it took? Should have tried that earlier,” He teased, sitting on his knees to pull your shorts and panties down. “Need some more prepping or-”

“Oh god, please no.”

He chuckled at your reaction, bending down to give you a quick peck on the lips, “Pretty.”

Why did that little kiss make you kind of giddy when the man was literally pulling his sweats back down and positioning his cock against you?

You ignored the weird feeling as you felt Wooyoung finally entering you, a long moan echoing in the room. Why did he have to sound like that?

“You can keep going,” You urged him when he didn´t immediately start moving, you were so fucking wet you think a fire extinguisher would suffer no resistance from your walls at this point.

“Shit, wait,” He groaned with a laugh. “If I move right now, this party´s gonna be over real soon.”

“The high oh mighty sex god Wooyoung?” You teased.

“Shut up, I´ve been waiting for this for a long time,” His smile looked so attractive in that moment you kind of forgot what you were teasing him over.

“Are you going to say it´s because I´m too hot?”

“Yeah, actually.” He laughed. “I haven´t taken your shirt off yet because I don´t think I can handle seeing your boobs right night.”

You laughed too, about to continue playing with him but he interrupted you by suddenly bottoming out. You clawed at his back in reaction, a surprised deep gasp leaving your lips.

Wooyoung slowly pulled all the way out before filling you again, his hips smooth as you felt his skin against yours, the large veins on his cock brushing against your walls. Supported by both arms on your sides, he kept a languid pace, like he wanted you to feel every inch of him on every inch of you, and you were definitely feeling it. Your walls so sensitive after months of torture.

His hair fell around his face and you pushed it back with a moan, wrapping your legs around his hips. Wooyoung bent down to catch your lips with his, the kiss matching the rhythm in which he rolled his hips, sensuous and unhurried.

“Fuck,” he moaned as he broke apart from you, his arms literally shaking at the feeling of you swallowing him. “If I knew you felt like this-”

“What would you have done?” You managed to breathe out with a smirk and a roll of your eyes, incredulous at his words.

“I would have made you mine,” Wooyoung groaned as he slightly sped up his hips, your nails digging deeper on his skin and you arched your back when his cock started brushing against a certain place.

“Never took you for the ah- possessive type.”

“Only when it comes to you.”

“Fuck me like you mean it then.”

“Someone´s eager, huh?”

“If I´m crushing my moral compass, at least it should be worth it.”

He used one of his hands to grab at your cheeks once again, tighter this time, smirking down at you without slowing down his thrusts, “Ah, you want me to destroy you for any other man. Gotcha, pretty.”

Well, you never thought you´d be hearing your best friend direct those words at you – and you definitely didn´t expect to be clenching around him over it.

“Thought so,” He smiled.

You were mesmerized by the way he looked so hot with that cocky smile, by how the mole under his eye drove you crazy, by the way he looked at you with so much desire and conceitedness at the same time – you subconsciously tightened your walls around him and he definitely noticed if the way he opened his pretty lips in a moan were anything to get by.

His pace quickened up one more time and it got you seeing stars, Wooyoung laughing at your loud moan, “Admit that I´m good.”

“Does it make you harder if I stroke your ego?”

“It totally does.”

“If you wanted to be praised, just say so.”

“You wouldn´t, you don´t have it in you,” a thin layer of sweat was forming on his face, his tan skin glistening and you just wanted to lick it.

“Give me something to praise you for.”

Wooyoung laughed darkly before flipping you over without a warning, putting you on all fours with zero to no effort, cursing at the sight in front of him. He caressed his hands down your back before pushing your torso down, you groaned in surprise as your arms failed and you crashed on the bed, your left cheek meeting the sheets as he held your hips up.

“I wanted to be nice, since you know, you´re my best friend,” He rambled as he admired the view for a second before laughing. “But I know you, should´ve known you´d want to be fucked like a slut.”

“Wooyoung-”

“What? Am I lying?”

“Just get on with it,” You groaned.

He chuckled loudly at your annoyance, choosing not to bite back because he too was very much in need of having his cock inside of you, and so he did. Wooyoung grabbed his member, positioning the head against your entrance, his other hand stayed in your lower back holding you down as he pushed himself in, feeling the way every inch of you squeezed around him. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn´t help but close his eyes to take the feeling in, hearing how his moans mixed with yours.

“You really were needy, huh?” He groaned, shivering at the sensations. “You´re squeezing me so hard.”

He didn´t expect an answer to that, and you wouldn´t be able to give him one anyways as he immediately began to move. You grabbed at the sheets, fingers turning whiter and whiter as Wooyoung sped up his hips, never losing the right angles to get you drooling - and you just caught yourself thinking this is something people would go to war over.

You could not hold back your moans and Wooyoung was only going faster and harder by the second, your cheek was getting burnt because of the friction with the sheets, your sensitive nipples were rubbing against the bed with each thrust, and you think your eyes were closed but you couldn't be certain.

This was a whole new world and you were not sure you´d survive adventuring in it.

Suddenly, you were dragged away from your state of pure bliss by the hair – literally. Wooyoung had grabbed at your strands to pull you up against him, forcing you to stand on your knees, his chest pressed to your back.

In this new position, his cock reached deeper into you and his skin dragged against different spots of your walls. You were babbling away, complete nonsense, especially when Wooyoung took advantage of the easy access to start sucking harshly on your neck, your hand flying to his thigh behind you, where you dug your nails into. When he was done, he grabbed at the hem of your shirt, lifting it off you in one quick pull, looking over your shoulder at the view. You didn´t miss the way his cock twitched inside of you, his groan right against your ear. Wooyoung hands automatically flied to your boobs, massaging them, squeezing them, toying with your nipples while not slowing down his hips one bit.

“Hang in there,” Wooyoung ordered when he felt how your walls were spasming around him, voice shaky because of his non-stopping thrusts.

“I can´t.”

“Will you really give me the – ah – satisfaction of cumming first?” You could feel his smile against your neck, before he bit your skin playfully.

It was not even on purpose the way you clenched around Wooyoung, earning a whine from him in response, his forehead meeting your shoulder. The smirk you let out thought, was completely on purpose. You wouldn´t let him get that cocky.

“Don´t worry, pretty. I´m a gentleman, ladies are always first,” He managed to tease in between thrusts. One of his hands left your boob, snaking it softly down your abdomen until his fingers found your clit.

You were a goner. Wooyoung´s cock ravished you while he drew circles against your clit with the pad of his middle finger, his lips on your neck left wet kisses all over, vibrating against your skin with each moan he let out. His left hand was still playing with your boobs and you felt tears stinging your eyes from the way you were holding your orgasm inside, not wanting him to win this new silent war. Your teeth sunk into the back of your hand to keep yourself grounded, squeezing your eyes shut to relieve the burn.

Wooyoung felt what you were doing, chuckling darkly against your ear as he finally left your neck alone, “Who would have thought, huh? Miss we´re-never-fucking crying on my cock.”

You tried to fight back, but the second you left your hand go, a moan filled the room and your head fell. Wooyoung´s left hand abandoned your boobs to find its new place around your neck, holding your head up on his shoulder, and no matter how much you fought it, the moment he squeezed his fingers around your throat, you couldn´t hold it in anymore.

“Woo,” You tried to warn him, hands looking for anything you could grab behind yourself and finding his hair.

He pressed around your neck harder, turning his head so his lips would be right against your ear as he pleaded, “Let go. I need to see how you look when you cum, I´ve been imagining it for so long. You sound so good, you feel so good, fuck.”

And suddenly, it´s like everything went quiet for a second before it all exploded, destroying everything on its way. The orgasm ripped you apart like an atomic bomb, engulfing you whole, leaving you blind, deaf and shaking. You gasped for air, feeling like your legs were failing you after the waves of pleasure were still hitting you for way longer than they should. Wooyoung in turn, after fantasizing about this for so long, expected to be ready for it, but oh boy, he wasn´t. Even if he fucked you for years, he doesn´t think he´d ever be prepared for the way your walls clenched around him so tight he almost couldn´t move, or the way you pulled on his hair harshly enough to almost rip his strands out, but what he would never get over, was how you sounded; not even in his craziest fantasies could he ever create such beautiful sounds – he was 99.5% sure he would be able to cum just by listening to your moans alone. So whiny, so desperate, so you.

He didn´t stop, ensuring you´d have the best damn orgasm of your life, his fingers working on you all throughout your high, even when he felt his own approaching, bucking his hips into you like an animal just desperate to get there. His teeth found the juncture of your shoulder and neck once again as he reached his peak in a few deep thrusts, holding onto you for dear life. Only then his fingers stopped and you finally started coming back to reality, feeling as Wooyoung came inside of you, hearing his heavy breathing against your skin, the way his fingers let go slightly from your neck and how he pressed a few chaste kisses to your neck as he came down from his high, paying special attention to his bite mark.

“Fuck,” He managed to breath out, gently removing his hands from you.

As expected, you immediately tumbled down into the bed, legs completely gone at the point. You whined at him for dropping you and he simply chuckled tiredly, muttering a sorry before flopping down next to you. Your eyes were closed but you felt his weight next to you as he gently removed your hair out of your face.

“So?” He asked.

“So what?” You groaned, not bothering to look at him.

“Feeling better?”

“Ask me again when my legs stop shaking.”

“Well, I guess that´s an answer on its own.”

Wooyoung had created a whole new problem without knowing it. Yes, it was truth that you got the sexual frustration and touch deprivation out of you, but now you´d never be able to get over this. You´d remember how Wooyoung ate you out every time you met, of how he fucked you until you cried every time you looked at your bed, how he made you ride his face every time you looked at his stupid nose; and the worst part was that, once you get needy again, you won´t want anyone else to fix it for you. Wooyoung truly ruined you for any other man.

“Can you tell me if I did a good job, at least?” His voice sounded soft, so you opened your eyes to look at him because the tone and the question were so out of character for him.

“The Jung Wooyoung worried about others´ opinions?”

“I wouldn´t if it was anyone else, but it´s you.”

“Woo, don´t get cocky,” You warned with a sigh. “And if you ever bring this up I´ll deny it until the day I die, but this was life changing.”

“Oh, wow. I really did fuck you stupid.”

“And you´ve ruined it,” You rolled your eyes.

“C´mon, I´m just playing. I´m glad I made you feel good. What do you want from me now? Cuddles? Something to drink?”

And suddenly you remember why this whole mess started in the first place.

“Yeah, actually.”

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

“Stop looking at me like you´re in love with me,” You warned as the hot water comfortably burned your skin.

“I do love you,” His eyes looked so soft under the moonlight shining through the window.

“I said in love, not love.”

“Is there a difference?”

“Yeah?”

He shrugged, “All I know is that I love you.”

“Awn, you like like me?” You teased.

“Would that be such a horrible idea?”

“Wooyoung.”

“What?”

“You´re pussy drunk.”

“That too,” He lazily smiled, gently hugging you under the stream so you were chest to chest.

You felt his hot skin against yours as he simply held you there in the dark, his chin resting on top of your head as he softly swinged the two of you side to side, your hands around his waist. This was heaven to you; this is what you were literally crying over all those weeks ago.

“We should try it out,” He continued after a few minutes of comfortable silence, running his fingers down your back.

“What?”

“Dating.”

You laughed at the idea, knowing he didn´t really mean it, “I don´t think that would go very well.”

“Why not?”

“I mean, we´re complete opposites. I´d give it less than two months before we´re calling it quits and choking each other to death.”

“We´ll never know until we try.”

“And you decided you want to?”

“I guess. Turn around, let me shampoo your hair.”

You obeyed, handing him the bottle so he could get to work, the chill air immediately hitting you.

“Wooyoung, I know you love me, but I don´t think you do romantically.”

“I´m not sure I know the difference,” He answered genuinely, rubbing the shampoo onto your roots. “But I do know that I want to be able to kiss you again.”

And he was right, you didn´t need to overcomplicate things as usual, it was as simple as that: you also wanted to kiss him again, so why not?

“Ok, yeah. I guess we could try. First Cristiano Ronaldo impression and we´re breaking up, though.”

A/N: Who wants a little epilogue of how their dating experience will go? lol

taglist: @wyrated @ohhwaa @bianca9889r @pnkified @i-love-ateez @luvleejuyo @rndm2413 @skittyneos @lyracarvahall @popialover @tunafishyfishylike @cherry-yoongs @sagittariusmoonlover @kosmicbomb @honniebabez @rose948 @khjoongie98 @jintastic-yuyu @evangelinemyamor @insomniacatiny @idfkimhereforsmut @yeetyeetbitchz @vixensss @msfixon @socutesotall @tatototat @e3ellie @zombiecheri @luvvfayte @thicksimpx @yeetyeetbitchz @xosannie @katykatmeow @donnakim87 @mimimimimimis-world @topazzateez @dawn-iscozy

#ateez smut #wooyoung smut #wooyoung fics #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung scenarios #jung wooyoung #ateez x reader #ateez fics #ateez scenarios #wooyoung

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joonie-beanie · 4 months ago

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Hat Guy's ASMR Commissions: S Tier | [Scaramouche/Wanderer x Reader]

Summary: Subject: Your Commission For [Guided Masturbation Audio - 30 minute session] In which your asshole best friends order a commission from your favorite ASMR artist, and it's a lot more NSFW than you were expecting. "From this moment on, you’re going to follow my directions. I’d say “if you fail to, you’ll be punished” but we both know you’re probably just another people pleaser who will do whatever I say, as long as you know it will make me happy. But fair warning–I won’t be happy until you’re so fucked out you can’t speak a coherent word.” Content: Smut, Guided Masturbation, Toy Use, Name Calling, Degradation/Humiliation, fem!reader Word Count: 6.5k Note: this is kind of an untraditional smut, so just keep that in mind lol

“Sweetheart…you really need to find some way to relax.”

“I agree. If you don’t release your tension, it’ll do a number on your health.”

You really appreciate Lisa and Yae being so concerned for you, but…

“I know. It’s just…not that easy for me.”

By now, in theory, you should have figured out some better coping mechanisms and ways to destress, but alas.

Taking a book from the return bin, Lisa scans it, and then places it onto the go-back cart.

“Well, have you tried getting off?”

Her suggestion makes you jerk, your head swiveling as you glance around the library to see if anyone nearby has overheard. At your side, Yae giggles.

“Calm down…finals have just ended. No one is in the library anymore—they’re out partying.”

You sigh.

You suppose she’s right. The only reason you three are here is because Lisa is working the closing shift, and because Yae had insisted that you come along to the library with her to keep Lisa company.

“Traditional porn, a good adult novel, ASMR—all would be good options,” Lisa continues.

“I’m not really into porn right now, and I don’t think I have the bandwidth to focus on a book,” you say, resting your cheek in your palm. “As for ASMR…I’m not a big fan. I’ve really only discovered one creator that I like…”

“Oh?”

Now that piques their interest.

“What’s their name?”

“He goes by “Hat Guy” on twitter,” you tell them. “He mostly just…posts audio responses to dumb takes, or makes ASMR mocking other ASMR trends, but his voice is nice, and he has a small fan base…despite him kind of being a little shit.”

“How cute,” Lisa laughs while Yae pulls out her phone.

“Well, then…since it sounds like he doesn’t have any relaxing content, maybe you should just go home and take a nice bath. Did you ever use that bath bomb I got you for your birthday?”

“No,” you mumble sheepishly. At your side, Yae taps your knee.

“Lisa is right. Go home and have a bath. I’ll keep her company until she’s done.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise.

“Are you sure…? I just got here like half an hour ago and now you want me to go home?”

“I just think some “you” time would be good,” she tells you with a smile. You pout your lips, but ultimately decide that…maybe she’s right.

“Fine, I’ll head home and rest, then.”

“Good girl,” Yae responds, patting your ass when you bend over to grab your backpack. You narrow your eyes at her, but aren’t truly mad.

“Be careful on your walk home~,” Lisa says as you start towards the exit. You wave at them both over your shoulder, and then leave the building.

A few seconds after your departure, Lisa turns to Yae.

“Alright, what did you find that you didn’t want Y/N to know about?”

Yae grins, loving that Lisa has already caught on.

“Look—”

She gets up from her seat and leans over to show Lisa her phone screen.

“I found Hat Guy’s twitter and saw that he’s accepting commissions, and look at one of the options~”

She points to something, and Lisa’s eyes hurriedly scan the text in front of her.

When she has finished reading, she grins.

“Oh, my…well, that’s certainly tempting.”

“I was thinking maybe we can give it to Y/N as a… “you survived finals! Use this to relax” type present. Since she’s always doing thoughtful things for us when we’re swamped.”

Lisa smiles, putting a thoughtful finger to her lips.

“I agree. She’s brought us so many cups of tea over the last few months. It’s the least we can do.”

“Good,” Yae says with a nod, immediately clicking on the commission link.

“She deserves a little…fun.”

Between the end of the previous semester, and the start of the new one, your University has generously given you a long weekend.

4 days, to be exact.

Most of this long weekend you spend doing the chores you’ve put off, and working a few shifts at your job.

It’s only by some grace that you end up with Sunday off. One final day to try and relax before classes begin tomorrow…

You do your best to make the most of it—mindlessly scrolling tiktok, folding some clothes, debating if you should order food out, and ultimately deciding against it, since you just went grocery shopping…

All in all, it’s a pretty mundane day.

…at least, until the icon for your email app appears at the top of your phone screen, and you swipe down the notification to see the title:

Subject: Your Commission For [Guided Masturbation Audio - 30 minute session]

Immediately, you freeze.

Surely, this is a spam email that’s somehow made it through the cracks. Because you definitely haven’t ordered such a thing.

Yet, despite your doubts at the validity of the email, you still click on it—wanting to read the contents before banishing it to your spam folder.

Dear Recipient,

Attached to this email is an mp3 file available for you to download. This file was requested and paid for by “Fox and Witch”, and is being sent to you directly at their request.

Please do not distribute this anywhere else on social media, as this is my copyrighted content.

If there is any issue with the quality of the file, please let me know.

Have fun.

-Hat Guy

Note:

Toys Needed = Dildo, Clitoral Vibrator or Wand

…you must have knocked your head on something earlier and are currently hallucinating.

Because there is NO WAY there’s an email from HAT GUY in your inbox. And that said email is for…for…

Well, you remember seeing a link on his profile about commissions, but you’d never clicked on it to see more than that. There’s no chance he’s out here telling people how to get off, though, right…?

With a warm face, you scan the email again. And then a third time.

You can only assume “Fox and Witch” are Yae and Lisa. And you did just tell them that you like Hat Guy’s content…

You bite your lip, staring at the mp3 file.

There’s just no way…

Hesitantly, you click on it.

“Hmph. You must be really desperate if your friends were willing to pay for a half hour of my time. Most people are satisfied with 10-15 minutes, but no…they knew you’d need longer than that.”

Oh…fuck.

Something in your tummy flips.

That’s him, alright.

You’ve never heard him talk like that before, but it’s definitely him…you could never mistake that haughty, belittling tone.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, your gaze once again finding the title of the email.

Guided Masturbation.

If you’re not wrong, that means if you hit play, and keep listening, it’ll probably be a lot of Hat Guy telling you what to do…how to touch yourself.

Just thinking about such a thing makes more blood rush to your head—embarrassment blooming in your chest.

Sure, the idea of him bossing you around isn’t exactly unappealing. You’re sure he’d be…less than nice, and maybe even a little sadistic, and perhaps call you a few rude names, but—

You groan and place your phone face down on the table beside you.

“Nope, I can’t—I—”

Standing up from your couch, you trudge into your kitchen.

It’s dinner time—you need to make dinner.

You try to keep your thoughts from straying to your temporarily abandoned phone, and the email that’s sitting in your inbox—but it’s literally impossible.

Still, you manage to cook yourself a meal, and even partake in a little alcoholic drink. (Just because you’re treating yourself, and definitely not because you want to ease your nerves a bit.)

Once you’ve finished eating, you clean all your dishes, and then return to the couch. Your gaze strays to your phone, but you don’t pick it up—instead deciding to grab the TV remote.

You make it approximately 25 minutes into a movie before you can’t take it anymore.

Hitting the pause button, you throw the remote on the couch beside you and then snatch up your phone—alighting from the couch.

You grab your headphones on the way to your bedroom, and pop them into your ears only after you’ve gathered your dildo and vibrator.

Maybe this audio won’t be as hot as you’re assuming, and you’ll end up not wanting to touch yourself, but…better to have everything prepared just in case, right?

Taking a deep breath, you hit play.

The track restarts from the beginning.

“I also hear you’re quite the little masochist—but I could have assumed that, considering it’s me that you’re soaking your panties over. Just another slut who wants to be bullied, huh.”

You huff at his words, glaring at your phone screen.

Did Lisa and Yae tell him your kinks or something?? Those bitches.

“Well, you’re in luck, because from this moment on, you’re going to follow my directions. I’d say “if you fail to, you’ll be punished” but we both know you’re probably just another people pleaser who will do whatever I say, as long as you know it will make me happy.”

Dammit, why is he right—

“But fair warning—I won’t be happy until you’re so fucked out you can’t speak a coherent word.”

With a shaking finger, you pause the audio.

You hate to admit it, but his words—the way he’s speaking to you—is already making you wet.

You really, truly want him to bully you, and use you like a little toy.

So, guess that means you’re doing this.

Throwing any caution and shame to the wind, you hit the play button again.

“Now…where to begin? I always like to start with an inspection. Take off your clothes, but leave your panties on. I’m not going to bid your needy pussy any attention just yet.”

You obediently do as he says, stripping yourself of your clothing until you’re left only in your panties.

“It’s unfortunate I’m not there to survey those titties in person, so you’ll just have to feel them up for me. Go ahead and grope yourself. Take a minute and massage your chest…I want to see if you’ll get wet from that alone. Although, you’re probably wet already just from my voice, aren’t you, slut?”

You click your tongue at that last part, (hating that he’s right), but nonetheless bring your hands to your chest.

You cup your titties, and begin squeezing them—feeling the soft flesh beneath your fingers.

“Good, keep going—squeeze a little harder now. Ah…I bet your nipples want to be touched, huh? Start teasing them, then—just enough to get them hard. I’ll give you 10 seconds—that should be enough.”

For some reason, the challenge of accomplishing a task within a certain time limit makes your pussy throb, and very quickly, you move your pointer fingers over your nipples—rubbing them lightly, and coaxing them to a peak.

You’re ashamed to admit it, but they manage to get hard in the 10 second pause he gives you…

“Wow, look at that…what greedy titties you have—responding as I say, eager to be played with. Pinch your nipples and roll them between your fingers. Find the motion that feels best, and do it over and over again, until I tell you to stop.”

Resting your breasts in your palms, you pinch your nipples between your fingers—rolling and tugging them.

Your eyes flutter shut as you touch yourself, each purposeful little tweak of your nipples causing your spine to twitch, and your pussy to clench.

It’s been too long since you’ve touched yourself like this…

By the time Hat Guy’s voice fills your ears once more, your nipples have started to get sore.

“Okay, stop there. I bet your cunt has started quivering, but I hope you know it’ll still be a while before I give you the chance to cum…unless, you somehow managed to orgasm from playing with just your titties? If that’s the case, congratulations! You’re the most needy and pathetic whore I’ve played with. So pathetic that I’ll give you a pass, and won’t even punish you for cumming without permission.”

The thought of being able to cum from nipple play alone makes you feel even more aroused, much to your chagrin—

“Now, let’s inspect that dirty pussy of yours. Spread your legs, and pull your panties down to your knees. I want you to stare at the crotch of your panties and feel ashamed at the wet spot I know is there.”

Taking a deep breath, you hook your fingers around your panties and tug them down your thighs.

As you spread your feet apart, you end up staring at the crotch of your panties—your lips pressing together when you notice there is, indeed, a very noticeable wet spot.

“Next, bend over. As low as you can go, with your legs still apart. I want to see everything.”

Locking your fingers together, you hesitate for a brief second before you bend over—feeling a strain in your leg muscles as you hit the point where you can’t bend anymore.

In this position, you know that you’re on full display.

“Look at you, presenting yourself to me…you really don’t have any shame, do you? If I were there, I’d be grabbing you and forcing you open wider, but since I’m not, you can do it for me! Grab your ass cheeks with both hands, and spread.”

Breathing a little shakily, you do your best to reach behind you and spread yourself. You feel your asshole clench as you do so, and the involuntary action maddens you, considering Hat Guy’s next words are—

“Such a tight little hole…I bet it’s twitching.”

“Is it nervous, or hoping for an intrusion? Either way, anal is not the objective of today’s session, so let’s move back to your pussy. Go ahead and spread your folds with your hand. You have permission to bend over with your chest to your bed, if you feel your blood rushing to your head from bending down so low. And if you're not by your bed…where the fuck are you listening to this audio? In your car, or a bathroom stall? Pervert.”

That little quip at the end makes you smile, even as you stand up and move yourself to your bed.

You find it a little endearing how he’s bossing you around, but still managing to be somewhat considerate. You suppose maybe there is more to him than just being a brat on the internet.

Anyway—

Reaching one hand back between your legs, you slide your fingers between the folds of your pussy and spread them—opening yourself up as if he were there to inspect you.

“Now, rub your fingers at your entrance—feel how slick you’ve gotten…honestly, you should feel ashamed. Getting so wet for a no-face internet stranger.”

Sure, your panties were a little wet, but that doesn’t mean—

You move your fingers to your entrance—freezing at the amount of sticky arousal you feel.

You...honestly can’t remember the last time you’ve gotten this wet.

“Smear the slick around your pussy, and make sure to get your clit. That’s where we’re headed next.”

You do as he says, perhaps a smidge overly excited that you now seem to be entering the main course.

As your fingers ghost over your clit, your pussy shudders.

“Bet you just clenched in excitement, huh?”

How does he fucking know—?!

“I'll be nice and will let you use two fingers. Press the pads of your fingers to your clit, and start making circular motions. Slow. 1…2…3…just like that.”

Breathing deep, you begin rubbing your clit with your fingers—repeating his count in your head, and following his pace.

With each pass of your fingers, your walls squeeze tighter.

“You probably want to rush, or grind your hips on your fingers…but you shouldn't be acting so desperate just yet, so be a good girl and keep going.”

Huffing, you obey his command,

He goes silent for a few beats, really giving you a minute to continue hopelessly teasing yourself.

By the time he next speaks, a needy exhale is leaving your lips—heady arousal truly being to pool in your lower tummy.

“Now you can go faster. Rub your clit to the beat of your heart. I assume it's racing, so you should be moving your hand a bit faster than before.”

You haven’t really noticed before now, but your heart is certainly beating much faster than normal…

The steady, yet swift thump of your heart is felt throughout your body the more you focus on it, and you quickly adjust your pace.

A breathy little sigh leaves your lips—your brows pinching together.

You want to cum.

“I wonder if you're close already, just from your fingers on your clit…haha. If you are, remember—you don't get to cum until I say so. So if you're close to cumming, edge yourself. Get right to the edge of your orgasm, and then stop. I'll give you 10 seconds after that to collect yourself, but then you have to keep going.”

Oh, fuck…

You suppose you should have realized that edging might be part of the equation, especially during a 30 minute session.

And, unfortunately, the thought of edging yourself for him makes you even hornier—pushing you closer to your first climax—or, well, edge.

“I bet you're probably thinking that 10 seconds isn't very long…that when you start again, you'll still be right at the brink of your orgasm, and will have to keep edging over, and over…hah, well…that's your own fault for being so hopeless.”

“Now, I'll let you set the pace. Find the rhythm and motion against your clit that makes you feel the best…you're going to keep that up for 1 minute—and remember, no cumming.”

Dammit—

By now, your lips are fully parted—quick little breaths fanning in front of your face and warming the sheets of your mattress.

You don’t want to edge, you want to cum, but he won’t let you—

“Also, why don't you go ahead and count aloud? I assume you're in private, so it shouldn't be an issue to let out your voice. And if you're not, well…I guess people will get to hear what a debauched whore you are.”

If this were 10 minutes ago, you’d surely blush and hesitate to follow his command.

But now…now you’re a little closer to being the debauched whore he’s calling you.

“I'll count with you so you don't rush it. 60…59…58…57—”

With headphones in, you hear your own voice in your head—mingling with his.

His, unwavering, with a hint of mockery. Yours…quiet, and struggling to stay on beat.

You clit throbs beneath your fingers, and there’s a familiar flutter of your walls, despite your pussy currently being empty.

You’re getting close.

“I can only imagine how sinful you look right now…oh, right. Where was I? Hmm…let's just pick up from 30.”

Motherfucker—

You let your face drop into your sheets, your thighs tightening and knees shaking.

Fuck, you wanna cum. You know you can’t—know it’s not allowed yet, but—!

“5…4…3…2…1. Stop moving your hand.”

Perfect timing. Right at the edge of an orgasm—you pull your hand away.

You take a second to try and catch your breath while ignoring the unfulfilled ache between your legs.

“Your pussy must be throbbing, huh? Lucky for you, as your benevolent master, I’ll let you stuff it full. Grab your dildo and get on your bed on your knees.”

“Also, I assume you're soaked by now, but if not, and you need additional lubrication, use lube.”

You glance behind you at your dresser, where your bottle of lube sits, but ultimately don’t grab it.

By now, you’re sure you can do without.

Grabbing your dildo, you climb onto your bed, and obediently get on your knees.

“Now, sit up and position the dildo beneath you. Rub the head between your folds, and then settle it at your entrance.”

You do as he says—a shiver of excitement raking up your spine as the tip of your dildo unexpectedly flicks against your clit while you get it into position.

“I'm going to give you 3 seconds to take it fully inside of you…What? I did say we'll be stuffing you full, and with how needy you clearly are, I figured I'm doing you a favor by letting you take it all in!”

Oh. That’s—

“So, I'll count to three. Oh, and if your dildo is too big, and you're scared to sink down onto it all at once, well…that's your own fault for biting off more than you can chew. But, I'm sure that greedy pussy will take anything it can get.”

It will.

“Ready?”

You take a trembling breath.

“3, 2, 1—!”

In one swift motion, you spread your thighs and sink down onto the dildo.

When the head bumps against the deepest part of you, you can’t help but gasp—the sound positively lewd.

“Ahhh…fuck. You made a cute sound, didn't you? How precious…now you're stuffed to the brim with dick, as you should be.”

Yes, this is exactly how you’re meant to feel…just a little slut who will do anything to cum for him.

Yet, despite his harsh instructions, he seems to pause for a second, giving you a chance to acclimate to the intrusion.

How cute.

“Why don't we start slow…I want you to lift your hips until just the tip of the dildo is inside of you, and then grind back down on it. Up…and down…up—”

To aid in the motion, you place your hands flat on the mattress in front of you, and then begin moving your hips.

Up…and down…

Your walls clench around the dildo, practically begging for more, but the man currently using you as his personal toy clearly isn’t inclined to give you such a thing.

At least, not immediately.

If you had to guess, he makes you continue at this slow, teasing pace for at least 2 minutes—your muscles beginning to strain as you resist going any faster.

Then, his voice fills your ears once again. You nearly sigh with relief.

“I hope your thighs aren't burning yet, because now we're going to pick up the pace. Imagine the gallop of a horse's hooves. I want you to grind on each downbeat. No need to make big motions—just grind on your dildo how you'd grind your pussy on my cock if I was there.”

If he were here, you’d wanna grind on his dick until he’s moaning louder than you are—

“Fuck…”

Fingers curling into the sheets, you find your new rhythm—the sound of your wet pussy beginning to fill the quiet room outside your headphones.

Sweat starts to bead on your brow—the arousal inside of you searing hotter, and your muscles getting tighter.

“I wonder if you can cum from internal stimulation alone…try to find your g-spot if you haven't already. I want you to bully it with your dildo.”

You can practically hear the grin in his words.

Repositioning yourself, you find the angle that better allows you to rub that sensitive little spot inside you.

Almost immediately, a whine rips from your throat.

“Now…I'm going to issue you a challenge. I'll count down from 60 seconds again. During that 60 seconds, you're free to cum. So try your best, okay, slut?”

Please, you want to cum, but you don’t know if 60 seconds will be enough—

“60…59…58…”

Dammit—

With his challenge invigorating you, you continue messily grinding your hips.

Each pass of your dildo against your g-spot causes your pussy to shiver, and your thighs to shake—your orgasm creeping closer.

“33…32…31…”

A desperate sound slips past your lips, your eyebrows knitting together.

You want to cum.

You want to cum, but—

You drop down onto your dildo roughly, almost in a pouting manner.

You need more time.

As soon as your climax finally begins to build—your walls clenching down on your dildo—Hat Guy reaches the end of his countdown.

“3…2…1…so…did you cum? Either way, I'm sure your legs are shaking. I wouldn't doubt that your sheets are getting soiled by your arousal, either.”

“Well, whether you came or not, don't worry—there's still more opportunities to orgasm yet to come! That being said, set your dildo to the side, and grab your vibrator instead.”

Exhaling, you manage to lift up your hips, and your dildo slips out of you.

It flops onto your sheets, glistening with your arousal.

Your pussy mourns the loss.

Setting your dildo to the side, you grab your vibrator instead.

“You can go ahead and lay on your back. I'll give your knees a break…isn't that nice of me? You should say “thank you”.”

You clench your jaw as you roll onto your back, your eyes squinting at the ceiling.

There’s no way he’s serious, right? Counting is one thing, but thanking someone who isn’t here?

“Huh? Did you think that was just a suggestion? Go on.”

You wet your lips with your tongue.

“...thank you.”

There’s a brief second of silence, and then—

“...pfft, hahaha! If you actually did just say it aloud, you're more of an obedient people pleaser than I thought. What a precious little cock-sleeve.”

You want to punch him—

“Anyway, I haven't let you cum from your clit yet. I bet by now it's engorged and begging for attention…go ahead and put your vibrator on your clit. Turn it on low.”

The fact that even just touching your clit causes you to jolt proves that his words are correct.

Hitting the power button, you turn your vibrator on a low setting, and almost instantly—the orgasm that had started to fade away flares back to life.

“Good…I'll let you keep it there for a little while. Actually…I'm gonna go get some water. God knows how upset you'd be if my voice suddenly gave out and I couldn't give you permission to cum—”

You hear the sound of a chair being alighted from, and footsteps padding away from the mic.

“This little motherfucker—,” you pant, your chest heaving.

You gently rub your vibrator around your clit—hoping that doing so will help you delay the orgasm that’s building—but it’s impossible to avoid.

After another minute, you can’t put it off any longer.

Your body tenses, your pussy tightening, and—

You tear the vibrator away from your clit.

If he were here, you think you’d honestly start to beg him for mercy. Of course, you’re sure he’d say that’s practically your first true edge, and you’re just being a little baby, but still.

You start the countdown from 10 in your head, and once it’s done, put your vibrator back on your clit.

Your entire body jolts as the pleasure that had been denied snaps back to attention.

You’re gonna have to edge again—

“How are you holding out? Did you edge at all—just from the vibrator being on low? At the very least, I bet you're squirming and panting.”

“Now, listen closely. I'm going to make you an offer.”

If his offer involves you cumming, you’ll do whatever it takes.

“I'm going to let you cum with the vibrator still on low—assuming you can. This time I'll be generous and will give you 90 seconds, even. But here's the catch. At the end of this session, you will be cumming. So if your begging cunt blots out any logic in your brain, and you decide to cum now, and then feel it's “too much” later, well. That'll be your own fault. Even if you're overstimulated, you'll be cumming again, so choose wisely.”

“Either way, you need to keep the vibrator on your clit for another 90 seconds. You just need to decide if you're cumming or edging. Get ready. To spice it up, this time I'm not counting aloud—I'll just tell you when to stop. So if you're planning on cumming, try not to waste any time. Because if I say stop and you're right there, I doubt you’ll be very happy. Now, begin.”

Risking an overstimulated orgasm after this is a dangerous game, but—

You press the vibrator harder against your clit.

You need to cum—you don’t care about anything else right now.

Your free hand grabs at your breast—your toes curling, and your heart racing.

Your back arches off the bed, a symphony of miniscule whines and gasps falling from your lips.

Then, the tension inside of you reaches its limit, and snaps.

Your voice catches in your throat—your body spasming as waves of pleasure rock you.

You keep the vibrator on your clit to draw them out as long as you can, but after a few long beats, Hat Guy’s voice fills your ears once again.

“Stop—that's time. So…did you cum? I wish I could see the state of you…I bet you're starting to look all fucked out. We're already at the 20 minute mark, after all.”

You can’t believe it’s already been 20 minutes. Yet, at the same time, can’t believe you’re not already closer to the end.

“Now, I did say you'd be cumming again, so why don't you go ahead and put your vibe on high? Let's try and force it out of you.”

It’s fine…it’s totally fine.

Turning your vibrator on high will be totally fine.

You move the toy back to your clit and push the button until the vibrations are much more intense than before.

Almost immediately, heat rushes through your body—stemming from the still recovering nerve ending on your clit.

You’re over-sensitive. Fuck.

And yet…your pussy still flutters—your muscles tensing once again as another orgasm begins to build.

“Ahh, I bet you're squirming like a pathetic little worm. Is it too much? Do you want to beg me to let you stop?”

“Your toes are curling, aren't they? I wish I could hear you and see you panting like a bitch in heat. Should I throw you a bone? Would that satisfy that sad cunt of yours?”

You are writhing, and panting, and every other filthy thing he’s pegged you as. But—you don’t want to stop. You’re too far in now—your whole body shaking, and your breaths coming quick as the vibrator on your clit overwhelms you.

It’s overwhelming, but you can’t stop chasing that high. You—

“Actually…that's not a bad idea. Stop—now.”

Despite not wanting to, you immediately yank the toy away.

You hear yourself whining, unable to help it.

“Hopefully you didn't cum in the last 30 seconds. If so…whoops~”

You wish you could kick him.

“This final orgasm is going to be our grand finale, so we should really let the sparks fly. And maybe your juices, depending on how hard you cum.”

“Grab your dildo—shove it in.”

You scramble to grab it—your arm darting to the side to recover the dildo you’d discarded a short while ago.

As soon as you have it, you spread your legs and press the head at your entrance—stuffing it in without any preamble.

A pleasant sigh leaves you as that full feeling returns.

“You're going to fuck yourself with it—however fast or slow, I don't care. And at the same time, turn your vibrator back on high.”

You can tell where this is going, and you honestly think it may kill you, but you follow his instructions nonetheless.

Turning the vibrator on high, you place it back on your clit and then begin fucking yourself with the dildo.

Almost immediately, involuntary sounds slip out of you—your body writhing against the sheets.

The overwhelming strength of your vibrator on your clit now partnered with the messy rubbing of your dildo between your walls…you’re truly becoming the mess he promised to make you.

“Oh, and just so things don't end too soon, you need to hold out for at least one minute. I'll let you know once you have permission to cum.”

You hardly think it’s fair that he’s saying this now, considering you’ve already started fucking yourself, but even so, you want to listen—want to be a good girl who does what he says, and only cums when permitted.

Holding out for a whole minute when your cunt is already starting to spasm—your clit feeling like it’s on fire—is certainly going to be a challenge, though.

“You know…I bet if this were a live call, I'd be able to hear how wet your pussy is. You're probably gripping onto that dildo so tightly…as if it's a real cock that you're begging to properly breed you.”

If he were here you wonder how he’d fuck you. Certainly hard enough that you’d be able to hear the slap of his balls against your pussy—

“You must be panting, huh? So ready to cum…I wonder if you’d be obedient enough to cum when I say. Why don’t we try? We’re getting close to a minute, after all.”

Oh, fuck.

You’ve never cum on command before, but you want to for him.

“C’mon, princess, I know you can do it…keep going…get yourself right there—”

Your chest shudders, and tears blot your eyes.

You’re trying. Everything feels so hot.

The arousal in your tummy swells—tightening up, and searing your insides.

“Cum.”

A sob rips from your chest, and you grind your dildo against your g-spot one final time, before your body obeys, and releases.

With the vibrator on high, this orgasm is much more intense than the last.

Your breath catches, your spine curving, and your hand releases the dildo in favor of grabbing onto your sheets for dear life.

Despite the clamping of your pussy around the silicone cock, it still manages to slip out of you after a few seconds—flopping onto your mattress, and poking wetly against your ass.

When the pleasure on your clit starts to turn to pain—you finally tear the vibrator away. You turn it off, and weakly discard it onto the bed beside you.

Despite no longer having any toys in or on you, your cunt and clit continue to twitch with aftershocks.

You take a deep breath.

Hat Guy is still talking in your ears, but your brain is too scrambled to process what he’s saying. So, you just continue to lay there until his words sound more like words again.

“Alright, you must have cum by now. Take a minute to breathe. And when you’re done catching your breath, make sure you get up and go pee, and then get some water. Because I’m not about to be liable for any after-effects of this session.”

Despite being exhausted, you can’t help but quietly laugh.

“Good job making it through. I’m sure we’ll meet again soon…mostly because I’m sure you’ll be opening this file again to get off to, haha.”

“Later~”

The audio ends.

You lay there, staring at the ceiling.

Then, you roll onto your side, slowly get up, and head for the bathroom.

Can’t let Hat Guy be liable for you, after all.

The following morning, you wake up with sore muscles, and a determination to go and beat up Yae Miko and Lisa Minci about their “gift”.

Yeah, maybe you are a little less tense than before, and the stress that had been clinging to you after the end of the previous semester is now gone, but still. They deserve a good scolding.

First, however, you have to go to your 9AM lecture. After that, you’ll have time to run to the library.

Despite the soreness in your thighs, you manage to trek across campus and make it to your class with time to spare. You chose a seat somewhere in the middle, and then set your bag down in the chair beside you.

With nothing to work on yet, considering today’s the first day, you entertain yourself with social media apps on your phone as the lecture hall slowly continues filling up.

When there’s only a minute left before the class is set to start, there’s a tap on your shoulder.

Startled, realizing they’ve probably been trying to get your attention, you immediately take out one of your headphones. Before you can even turn to face them and apologize, they’re talking.

Except…the voice of the person beside you is…eerily familiar. Scratchy, attractive, and perhaps a little annoyed—

“Do you mind moving your bag? There aren’t very many seats left.”

Without saying a word, too stunned to speak, you reach over and move your bag to the floor at your feet. The man grunts, and takes a seat beside you.

As he pulls out his laptop, you finally build up the courage to look at him.

Dark hair and eyes to match…slim fingers, but veiny hands…a black shirt and oversized jacket—

“Do you need something?”

Oh, fuck—you’ve been openly staring.

Your eyes meet his for the first time, and you open your mouth, but no words come out. The beat of your heart starts to get faster.

He cocks an unimpressed eyebrow at you.

“What? Cat got your tongue?”

This is just too much—there’s no fucking way this is happening—

Unfortunately, before you can finally pull it together and try to redeem yourself, your professor takes the podium at the head of the room.

“Class! Welcome! While it might be a little unconventional to start the semester out on this note, I just want you all to know in advance: this class will heavily rely on cooperation with others. There will be many team projects. In fact—the person you’re sharing a table with will be your project partner for the whole semester!”

…what.

Beside you, the man sighs—clearly unhappy to hear about there being group projects, or you being his partner, or both.

“Great, looks like we’re stuck together.”

“Yep…,” you mumble in response, the first word you’ve managed to speak since his arrival.

He obviously notices, because his lips pull into a teasing little grin, his eyes remaining trained on your still-speaking professor as he whisper—

“Oh, would you look at that? She speaks.”

Your pussy clenches.

Mhmm, yep!

You’re gonna go jump off a bridge.

#genshin smut #genshin x reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smut #genshin impact x reader #wanderer x reader #bean fic #genshin fanfic

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scarlet-star-witch · 4 months ago

Text

You were my man and I your girl

Aemond Taragryen x female reader

Summary: Facing the news of her impending betrothal, she makes a final, desperate act of rebellion. Though when she discovers she is to marry her dear uncle, the man she has longed for since childhood, she realizes she may have ruined their marriage before it even began

Word count: 17.5 K (I need help)

Warnings: angst, smut, fluff, Aegon being kind of a good brother, men having the audacity, jealous Aemond, reader is Rhaenyra's daughter, but no mention of who her father is

“What?”

Rhaenerya winced and bowed her head at the sharp tone. She knew her daughter would not take the news lightly, but she had hoped she could understand the delicate nature of their situation.

“Darling, I know I told you-”

“Are you alright with this?” She interrupted, turning to Daemon who was sitting stone-faced, hating the news as much as she was.

He opened his mouth, most likely to spew insults about her soon to be betrothed, but Rhaenrya’s sharp glare quickly quieted him and she turned desperately to her raging daughter.

“My love, please understand-”

“What is there to understand?” Her daughter continued, her eyes wide, searing with betrayal. “You told me I would have a choice, that I would never be used as some political pawn for power.”

“We are on the verge of a succession war. We all have a duty to perform and as my heir you have your own to fulfill.”

The mention of the fight for succession, the hint as to who exactly she would be marrying did not register in her mind or it would have calmed the burning fire inside her. All she could make out in the maelstrom in her mind was that she was to be married and it was not her choice.

She remembered, just moons ago, when Jason Lannister had offered his hand. The thought of being forced into the bed of a man decades older than her, power hungry and desperate to take the titles she could give him, made her feel sick to her stomach.

“I can’t believe you would do this to me.” She told her mother, her voice sounding weaker, knowing she was facing a losing battle.

Rhaenerya’s face fell, her daughter’s words cutting her deeply, causing an aching pain to bloom in her chest.

“Please, if you would just listen, you might change-”

“I might change my mind and accept the fact that I’m to be sold like a mare?” She argued and quickly turned on her heel, storming out of the room.

Rhaenerya pinched the bridge of her nose as she exhaled loudly, her frustration clear. Daemon tapped his fingers against his thigh, his gaze remaining on the empty doorway.

“That went as well as I expected.” He spoke dryly, his expression softening slightly when he saw the tiredness in his wife’s eyes. “She’ll get over it. She’ll eventually stop arguing long enough for you to explain.”

“She’s always been stubborn, but she has never raged like this before. She’s been spending too much time with you.”

Daemon scoffed, though he couldn’t exactly deny the claim.

“If she had only let me finish, she would have been happy with the news. She used to be so close to Aemond, I know she’s always cared for him. She barely spoke to me when we left King’s Landing, she was so mad that I had separated them.”

“I still say she can do better than that one-eyed cunt.”

“Daemon.” Rhaenerya hissed, fighting the urge to smack him upside the head. “It is already done. The King has accepted the betrothal and their union will finally mend the divide between our families.”

Her breathing was labored as she raced through the halls, unsure of where she was heading. Outside, she heard Vermithor’s loud roar, her dragon sensing his bonded rider’s discomfort and anger. She had a fleeting thought of racing to her beloved dragon and flying across the sea, hiding away from her duties for the rest of her days.

The thought was quick to dissolve. She knew Daemon would catch her before she could get Vermithor off the grounds of Dragonstone.

So that left her to stew in her anger at being forced to marry a man she didn’t love and probably would never love and her hurt that her mother had broken the promise she had told her years ago as a child, that she would never be used a political pawn, that her hand in marriage would never be forced.

She briefly thought of a young boy with silver hair and quickly pushed the thought away when the ache of longing overtook her.

The thought of the old, greedy, disrespectful lord she was soon to marry made her want to throw up. This was never what she pictured for herself.

Defeated, she trudged back to her room, her head down, a picture of broken girlhood too many women in this realm knew all too well.

“Princess, are you alright?”

She perked up, her eyes meeting the caring gaze of her guard, Ser Darick, standing vigil at her door.

A twisted idea unfurled inside her, a half-hearted plan of rebellion sparked by the flames of anger that burned brightly.

She smiled, the gesture bringing one to his own lips. She had always found him handsome, many late nights had been spent with Baela and Rhaena giggling amongst each other about his broad shoulders and silken hair.

She had no deeper desires for him, that place in her heart was firmly held by the sweet boy she left behind years ago, but it didn’t stop her from noticing the way her guard looked at her. She knew he desired her and the anger inside of her left her wanting for one thing she could control, one thing the man who would soon own her would never have.

“I’m afraid I need your help with something in my chambers.” She spoke sweetly. Ser Darick nodded eagerly and he followed her inside.

She closed the door behind them, causing him to turn back to look at her, his brows furrowed in confusion as he noticed the pristine state of her chambers.

“Princess-?”

“I see how you look at me, Ser Darick.” She stated bluntly, vindicated from the way his eyes widened and averted from her gaze. “There’s not many things in my life that I get to choose and I’d like you to help me make one last choice before my freedom is taken from me.”

“I don’t understand.”

She untied the laces of her dress, allowing it to fall from her shoulders, leaving her in a sheer slip. The man before her choked on his breath, the hunger in his eyes making her heart race, she knew he wanted her. She stepped towards him, her hands running over the expanse of his chest.

“We shouldn’t. I swore an oath-”

“To protect me.” She finished his sentence. “I think this is exactly the protection I need.” She smiled cheekily.

She pulled the shift over her head, leaving her body bare to him and she knew the second he gave in as his eyes took in every inch of her body. He dropped his hand from the hilt of the sword on his hip and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him as he crashed his lips to hers.

She smiled in between kisses, feeling like she had her power back as she undid the pieces of armor from his body.

She steadily ignored the guilt that crept through her mind, guilt for defying her mother and her duty. Moans fell from her lips as her guard took her hard and fast, his hunger for her clear in the way he held her tightly, in the way he refused to part his lips from any inch of her body.

She squeezed her eyes shut, letting the image before her melt into one of the silver haired, one-eyed man she longed for. A shiver wracked her body, her toes curling at the images she conjured in her mind.

She bit her lip, stopping herself from letting the wrong name fall from her lips as she reached her peak. As the man above her shuddered to his end, her name bellowed in the quiet room, she thought of how Aemond would sound saying her name in rapture.

As Ser Darick panted against her lips, his body collapsing against hers, she let herself indulge in the passionate touch of another and mourned for what she believed her future would hold.

Aemond was sitting stiffly in the same spot he had been for the last ten minutes, since his mother had told him the news.

He couldn’t make sense of the emotions whirling within him. Relief was the first one he could pinpoint, but it quickly turned to guilt, soon to remorse, and then to the sham of disdain he had tried so hard to feel for her since the night he had lost his eye.

Though no matter how hard he had tried to hate her like he hated the rest of her family, he found he could never conjure any for her. She never ridiculed him the way Aegon and her bastard brothers had, she was never a part of the cruel jokes and pranks they pulled on him. They were both young Targaryen’s without dragons and had found solace in their shared longing. Despite her own perceived shortcoming, she never wavered in the comfort she bestowed upon him.

She spent many nights holding his hand, reassuring him he was worthy of a dragon when the teasing became too much for him to handle. She stuck up for him like no one else ever had. She even looked down upon her own brothers, scolding them for their immature teasing and jokes at his expense.

He remembered the worst night of his life, as his family splintered with the loss of his eye and the insults he had hurled at the Strong bastards.

But he always remembered how she had tearfully screamed at her own brother for what was done to him. He remembered when hours later, she snuck into his room, hugged him tightly and told him how proud she was that he had claimed Vhagar.

He remembered how just a year later he had heard the news she had laid claim to the wild dragon, Vermithor. He wanted so badly to saddle his own dragon and make his way to her, to tell her how proud he was of her the same way she had praised him.

But his mother had never had allowed it

He could never hate her. She was never just another one of Rhaenyra’s bastard children and as much as he tried to tell himself to remain neutral, he couldn’t help but feel relieved at the news of his mother’s reluctant acceptance of their betrothal, one he had longed for but never had hope of ever coming to fruition.

“Aemond?”

His mother’s voice broke him from his thoughts and he turned his attention towards her, attempting to remain stoic so he would not reveal his true feelings about the news.

“Tell me if this is truly what you want. If not, I will tell Rhaenyra the betrothal is off.”

Panic grew at the thought of his mother, or even his scheming grandfather, taking this away from him before he even got the chance to revel in it. He cleared his throat and sat up straighter in his chair.

“It’s alright, Mother. I will perform my duty.”

Alicent smiled and reached over to place her hand over his. She adored her son and his strong sense of duty that was certainly lost to his older brother. Despite his attempts to remain stone-faced, Alicent knew her son too well, she knew what he truly longed for.

She remembered how close he had been with Rhaenyra’s eldest child and she knew how devastated he had been when she had left for Dragonstone. Aemond had refused even meeting possible suitors for years and she could see his desire to shut her down as she mentioned the betrothal.

Until she had mentioned the Princess’ name.

It had shut him up quickly and he had stayed quiet, taking in the news with a contemplative expression that was all too familiar on her stoic boy’s face.

But it was the slightest twitch of his lips upwards and the way he seemed to exhale in relief, every inch of his body losing its rigidity that told Alicent this was the right decision. Despite her ire for Rhaenerya and her children, the thought of an impending war was not something she wanted and it would clearly make her son happy, an emotion she did not often see him indulge in.

She smiled and squeezed his hand.

“They will arrive in a few day’s time. We will start preparations for the wedding as soon as possible.”

With her parting words, Aemond was left to remain sitting, leaning on his elbow as his hand covered his mouth, trying to make sense of the emotions he was feeling that were so foreign to him. He wasn’t used to getting what he wanted.

It didn’t seem real.

By the next morning, with an awkward passing smile to Ser Darick, she was headed towards the dining hall, her pace slow, as if she could delay greeting her family. She felt as though there was now an enormous target on her back, letting everyone she passed know what she had done the previous night.

“Darling,”

She startled, placing a hand over her chest and plastering on a smile as she greeted her mother stiffly.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Mother. I just… didn’t sleep well last night.”

Rhaenyra frowned and linked her arm through her daughter’s. “I know last night was difficult, but I think you’ll come around to it.”

She tensed, picturing the cruel, power hungry lord she’d be chained to for the rest of her life.

“Mother-”

“If you had let me finish, you would have heard that I have betrothed you to Aemond.”

She abruptly stopped in her tracks, almost causing her mother to trip over her own feet. Rhaenyra looked back at her daughter, expecting to see pure joy cross her features but she was confused to see the anguish in her expression.

She stepped towards her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, her hand caressing down the length of her hair.

“Darling, what’s wrong? I thought you’d be happy with the news, I know how much you care for him.”

The lump in her throat grew so tight, she worried she’d choke to death before she could voice her mistake. The guilt that had already been lingering beneath her skin grew tenfold, threatening to knock her right off her feet.

“But… the Queen… she’d never agree.”

“She did.” Rhaenyra confirmed, still perplexed by her daughter’s reaction. “The King made his decree, something even she cannot dictate. With you as my heir, Aemond will be King Consort. I guess she realizes that was as good a consolation as she would get.”

It was real. She was to marry Aemond, the man she had longed for for years. She hadn’t even been reunited with him and she had already betrayed him.

“Mother-” She paused, taking in a ragged breath, her hand holding tightly to her mother’s arm for stability. “I… I did something stupid.”

Rhaenrya’s face twisted into an expression of concern and she quickly ushered her daughter through the halls into the privacy of her chambers. She sat on her bed, her hand held tightly to her daughter’s as she tearfully explained what she had done the night before.

The first emotion to rise was a dangerous protective anger.

Rhaenyra sprang to her feet, her hands clenched into fists and she grinded her teeth.

“If that man did anything to pressure you-”

“Mother, stop. He didn’t do anything I didn’t ask him to do.” Her daughter assured her, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment at having to explain her indiscretion.

Her words caused her mother to sigh and begin to pace.

“Aemond can never- Alicent can never know about this.”

“What?”

“This betrothal is tenuous, it took months for Alicent to give in, it took months for the decree to even make it to my father. The first sign of a crack, she’ll tear it apart, her and that lecherous father of hers.” Rhaenrya ranted.

Guilt burned through her veins, the thought that her stupid decision could ruin her family made her feel sick.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t… I wasn’t thinking. I just… the thought of being married to some old man-”

“Oh my love.” Rhaenyra took a seat next to her daughter, taking her hands in her, pressing a kiss to her shaking knuckles. “Do not blame yourself.”

“This was the path to peace and I ruined it.”

“You didn’t ruin anything.” Rhaenyra spoke sternly, as if speaking it into existence with her mere words. She gave her daughter a weak smile, her actions all too familiar to her. “You know I was about your age when I had the same idea of a rebellion against duty.”

Her daughter looked at her curiously, but Rhaenyra’s heavy sigh was indicative that she didn’t want to spare too many details of that fateful night when Daemon had taken her to a brothel that led her to bring Ser Criston to her bed.

She shouldn’t have been surprised that her dragon of a daughter had rebelled just as similarly as she had all those years ago.

A half-hearted plan began to form, one based on tenuous lies, but it was all she had.

“We’ll switch rotations, you’ll never have to see Ser Darick again. We’ll go to King’s Landing, you will marry Aemond and they will all be none the wiser about what happened last night.”

“Will you tell Daemon?” She asked fearfully.

Rhaenyra let out an amused huff of laughter. “Not unless you want your guard tortured and torn limb from limb.”

Sensing her daughter’s lingering anxiety, she placed a kiss on her forehead.

“No one will ever know.”

A shuddering breath escaped her. She prayed to the Seven her mother’s words were true.

Aemond stood tensely in the courtyard with his family, his hands firmly planted behind his back, the picture of royal stoicism. He just hoped no one could see how his fingers fidgeted behind his back, his nerves getting the better of him.

It had been six long years since he had seen her, since that last visit she had paid him where she had mourned his injury with him and kissed his cheek, a moment that left him wondering if he would live with a blush on his cheeks for the rest of his life.

An elbow to his side forced him out of his daze and he turned to see Aegon’s smug smirk as he gestured with his head at the oncoming carriage.

“Creaming your pants yet?”

Aemond sneered at his brother, his jaw clenching as he turned himself to face straight ahead, steadily ignoring the amused smirk sent his way at his expense.

His heart began to race as the carriage door opened, anticipation heavy on his shoulders. With every face he saw that wasn’t hers his impatience began to rise, holding back a glare to her brothers who exited first.

He didn’t pay attention as his mother and Rhaenyra greeted each other awkwardly. He didn’t spare his nephews a second look. All he saw was her. He perked up the moment his gaze found her, his lips parting unknowingly, no longer holding strongly to the passive facade he had forced all day.

She had grown into a beautiful woman in the past six years. He had pictured this moment for so long and none of his late night fantasies could ever compare to the woman before him.

He cleared his throat, straightening his posture as she stepped towards him. For years he had tried so hard to push down the feelings of longing that arose at the thought of her. For so long he had forced himself to believe she was nothing more than an enemy, a bastard girl that deserved nothing.

But as she stood in front of him now, grown and more beautiful than he could have ever conceived, he realized it was all a farce. Every hateful thought he had forced into his head about her was nothing more than a lie.

“Prince Aemond.” She greeted with a small curtsey, the small smile curling on her lips capturing his eye effortlessly.

After a few seconds, he suddenly realized he hadn’t spoken a word, a brief flash of panic racing through him at the embarrassment that he had been merely staring at her like a fool.

“Princess.” He responded slightly bashfully as he bowed his head.

The air surrounding them was awkward, both with so many things to say that had been left unsaid for years, complicated feelings that went unresolved for so long.

But they were to be married in a mere week's time. The family drama that cut through their childhood bond did not need to be addressed, they had no choice but to accept the inevitable.

He would be her husband no matter if he came to terms with the delusion he had forced for years. He would be her husband no matter if he had unlearned everything his mother and grandsire had instilled in him for years.

A welcome feast had been thrown in their honor. The table of royals had been a sight of strain as the ailing King gave his remarks to the room, welcoming his dear eldest daughter back to King’s Landing, lamenting the union of their divided family through the marriage of his first granddaughter and his second son.

The stifling tension among their family remained throughout the celebration. With the secret weighing heavily on her, she felt as though she couldn’t even spare a glance at her betrothed without choking on the intense guilt she couldn’t shake.

As the heir of the heir and a coveted Targaryen Princess, her mother’s only daughter, she was practically forced to remain on the dancefloor all night, indulging in the many noble Lords and their sons that offered their hand.

“Mind if I cut in?”

She almost audibly sighed in relief at the sound of her brother’s voice, taking the place of the obnoxious boy who had accosted her for three dances. Since the feast began, she’d been approached by more Lords than she could count.

“Are you alright?” He asked quietly as he began to dance with her.

“I’m fine.”

“You say the word and I’ll take you back to Dragonstone.”

“Jace.” She scolded, giving him a pointed look. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just trying to look out for you, Sister.” He defended. “You’re about to marry the man that tormented us as children.”

She frowned, her eyes drifting to Aemond who sat at the head table, eyeing the dancing couples with disinterest. The sight of his eye patch was like a punch to the gut, the memory of what had happened that night was enough to bring tears to her eyes.

“If I remember correctly, it was you, Lucerys and Aegon that tormented him as children.”

“He called us bastards.”

“And he lost an eye.” She reminded him tersely. “I’d say that more than evens the odds.”

Jace sighed heavily, the conversation weighing heavily on him. He wasn’t proud of his actions that night or how he had treated his uncle as children, but the guilt wasn’t enough to allow him to feel happy for this union.

“He’s different now.” Her brother mumbled. “He seems… angry.”

“Can you blame him?”

Jace sighed again to which she sent him a pointed look. It was as if it pained him to admit his guilt, to admit that their uncle wasn’t the villainous enemy he had built up in his head. He looked at his sister thoughtfully, worrying his lip between his teeth.

“Is this truly what you want?”

“What I want doesn't matter, Jace.”

“It does. Especially if you are to be married to a man that would make you miserable.”

She remained quiet, contemplating his words with confliction. Misery was never a feeling that followed the thought of her uncle. She knew their marriage could be great, that they could foster a beautiful love, but only if he let it and only if he never discovered her betrayal.

As the song ended and Jace moved from her side to spare a dance with an impatient Baela, she floundered for a moment, eyeing her brother and his betrothed for a moment, their delighted smiles, the clear fondness they held for each other stirring envy within her.

She wondered if her own marriage would bear the same smiles.

She looked around, dread settling inside her as her gaze passed over the many other noble sons that wanted their chance to dance with her. It was the last thing she wanted.

With a heavy breath, she pushed her way through the throng of dancing couples and slunk out onto the balcony, hoping no one had noticed her swift exit and moved to follow. It had been years since she’d been in King’s Landing, it seemed the novelty of her family had not waned.

It was as if everyone wanted a piece of her. She loathed it.

Only a minute later, she heard footsteps approaching and she grit her teeth, her peace seeming to be taken from her as quickly as she had gained it. She turned her head and her eyes widened at the sight of Aemond stepping out onto the balcony.

He startled slightly when he noticed her and smiled, a gesture that was weak and awkward, though it managed to bring an equally weak smile to her own lips.

“I didn’t mean to impose.” He began, sounding slightly stilted.

“You aren’t.” She assured him. “I can leave if you wish to be alone.”

He eyed her for a long moment, as if surprised by her request, but he just shook his head and approached her slowly so he was standing at her side.

“This is where I seem to find myself during these events, when I need to get away. I presume you are out here for the same reason.”

“Yes, I fear my feet have grown too tired to indulge in another dance.” She replied, hoping her words didn’t sound as dour to him as they did to her own ears.

Aemond seemed to grimace, the reminder of the many lords who had taken her hand for a dance stirring something within him he didn’t quite recognize. He didn’t care for it.

“I probably shouldn’t have left, I just…”

“Needed a minute.” Aemond supplied as she trailed off. She nodded bashfully, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly hyper aware of her appearance as she realized this was the first time she had been alone with Aemond in years.

They were no longer childhood friends, they were betrothed. It was enough to drive her nerves to a boiling point where she could no longer meet his eye.

He stepped closer to her so he was leaning against the railing next to her, mirroring her position, an act that signaled ease.

“I had an interesting conversation with your brother.”

Her eyes widened. That was the last thing she had been expecting him to say. She was surprised Lucerys even listened to her request, that he had even attempted to approach the man he had scarred.

“I have a feeling that was your doing.”

She turned her head to meet his gaze and every fear she had that she had crossed the line faded in an instant as she saw the gratitude in his expression.

“You have no obligation to forgive him.”

Aemond huffed out a laugh and bowed his head slightly. “Those were the exact words your brother said as well.”

She inwardly cursed her brother. He wasn’t supposed to say word for word what she had asked of him.

“I just wished to solve the rift in our family. We can’t very well expect a happy marriage if we spend our time hating each other.”

“I never hated you.” Aemond responded quickly, his brows now furrowed as he moved in closer to her. “I may have.. complicated feelings for your brothers, but I… I never felt any of that towards you.”

She felt her breath hitch, her throat feeling tighter, as if she suddenly forgot to breathe with him so close to her.

“Are you truly content with marrying a bastard?”

Aemond flinched, her words so unexpected, he involuntarily took a step back, asif his instincts were telling him to run far from this conversation and never look back. He spoke her name softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You’ve whispered about our parentage our entire childhood. Am I to believe the sentiment now means nothing to you?” Her voice was cutting, but not with anger. She just sounded disappointed and somehow, Aemound found it so much worse.

“I never called you- it was never…” He stammered for a moment before sighing heavily, his teeth gritting as he looked out onto the horizon, desperately trying to find the words he needed to tell her she was never a part of the ire he held for her brothers.

She watched him, a deep part of her feeling satisfaction to see him flounder as he was. She held much affection for Aemond, especially in their childhood, but his affliction for calling her brothers ‘Strong’ was always a source of hurt and caused many petty arguments between them before they had been separated.

“It was never about you.” He admitted quietly.

“They are my brothers, Aemond. I am not absolved from what you say about them.”

“But you are.”

Her breath was stolen from her at the gravity of his words, at the sincerity she heard from him. She eyed him cautiously for a long moment, trying to gauge just what she felt for the man before her now, no longer the shy and sweet boy she had once known.

She longed for him, but she wasn’t sure if the person she desperately desired even existed any more.

But with how he looked at her, how hard he seemed to be trying to appease her, left her feeling defenseless against her own fears.

“Why did you never write to me?” She asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, as though she regretted even posing the question.

An expression crossed his face that she couldn’t recognize. He looked tortured, as if the mention of the part he played in their loss of friendship all those years ago brought him pain. The letters he received from her that were left unanswered had grated on him for years.

Years ago, he had even written a letter to her to apologize for his silence, but his mother had caught him, tore the letter to shreds and warned him not to reach out to Rhaenyra’s bastard daughter, that he would only get hurt again if he dared to reconnect with them.

“I never wished to ignore you.” He spoke softly. “It was just, after what had happened on Driftmark, my mother-”

“I understand.” She interrupted. The state of their family wasn’t the fault of themselves alone, their mothers had a complicated relationship they could barely comprehend. It was no fault of their own that they listened to the vitriol their mothers spoke in their years of hurt.

“I never wanted to ignore you.” He repeated, as if he was desperate for her to believe him.

The years of hurt that had cut her heart deeper and deeper with every unanswered letter she had sent slowly began to heal as she looked into his eye and saw the reverence with which he gazed at her.

“I am willing to put the years behind me. If we are to be married, I don’t want there to be animosity between us.”

“There isn’t, at least on my part.” He assured her, looking to her hopefully, almost holding his breath for her next words.

“There is none on mine either.”

He nodded, the relief coursing through him feeling like the antidote to the years of guilt and sadness that surrounded his thoughts of her. His gaze met hers and the small smile, more genuine than the one she had greeted him with, caused his own to grow, a gesture that was no longer forced, but now one of hopeful excitement.

The prospect of marriage no longer seemed so daunting.

In the days leading up to the wedding, they didn’t see much of each other.

She felt more lonely in the place she used to call home than she had expected. While she had her family, it was clear they were all on edge about the upcoming wedding and hadn’t exactly settled being in the Keep where the Hightower influence reigned supreme.

She found herself taking Vermithor out daily to escape the tension among her family.

The only peace she found was amongst the clouds, where the air was thinner, stealing the breath from her lungs. It was as if the reminder that there were things more dangerous than her own family was a comfort to her situation.

Suddenly, the earth shattering roar of a great beast sounded behind her, startling her. She turned quickly, her eyes widening as she saw the enormous figure of Vhagar taking to the skies, her gargantuan form heading towards her.

She watched the creature in awe, the great war dragon, centuries older than her, gliding through the skies like a beautiful relic.

“It’s alright.” She soothed the dragon below her who grumbled at the unexpected presence of another.

She kept her head turned, her eyes trailing the hulking figure that grew closer. A small smile curled on her lips as she spotted the silver hair of her betrothed atop his mighty dragon.

As Vhagar approached, their eyes met, shared smiles passing between them. She gripped onto the reins in her hands and directed Vermithor forward, her large dragon diving towards the water below them.

A trilled call from behind made her smile, knowing Vhagar was following suit. She looked over her shoulder, a warmth building within her as she saw Aemond guiding his dragon to follow her every move.

The two of them didn’t share any words as they flew together in solidarity. She laughed as Vermithor let out a grumble of content. Her dragon suddenly titled, moving in closer to the dragon at his side, almost bumping the dragon beside them.

She froze momentarily, gripping onto the reins tighter, preparing for an adverse reaction from the surly war dragon, but she could only watch in disbelief, her lips parting in awe as Vhagar crooned, a sound she had never heard from a dragon before, and bumped her head against Vermithor’s, a gesture that seemed almost affectionate.

She laughed, the warmth within her chest that had been stirring, now in full bloom. She turned to Aemond who watched the dragons with a small, amused smile. His head turned, their eyes meeting and as though a force greater than anything they had ever felt before, they couldn’t look away.

As he looked at her, that lone blue eye encroached by a softness that was so familiar to her, she felt as though she was once again face to face with that boy she had loved all those years ago.

Their wedding was a beautiful affair.

No one would know it was a union between a fractured family. Though, it seemed as though their wedding was already stitching their broken family back together. Or it may have something to do with the amount of wine consumed. She noticed Helaena smiling happily as she danced with Jace. Aegon was drunkenly laughing with Luke who was smiling awkwardly, looking as if he wanted to be anywhere else as Rhaena laughed on in his playful torment.

Daemon sat next to his brother King, his smile soft as they spoke together intently. Her mother sat with Queen Alicent, the two of them deep in conversation, their hands finding each other as they descended into bouts of laughter like they were nothing more than two young girls again.

The sight made her happy. She knew her mother missed her old friend dearly and it looked as though Alicent had missed their friendship just as deeply.

“Are you ready?”

She turned on her heel to find Aemond, her husband, standing before her anxiously, his face a mask of anxious anticipation as he held his hand out to her.

She swallowed and nodded stiffly, taking his hand as nerves as heavy as lead built within her. It was time for the bedding. Every happy thought in her head was gone in an instant as she suddenly could focus on nothing but the secret she kept from him.

As he guided her out of the hall, her eyes met her mother, her face now serious, giving her a slow, knowing nod, reminding her to stay silent, to perform her duty and act as an untouched maiden.

They walked in silence, the tension between them growing.

They had been in a daze practically the entire day, their smiles shy yet glowing as they spoke their vows in the Sept, as they shared their first kiss as husband and wife.

Their true first kiss had been years ago when they were merely eight years old. She had kissed him after he had yet another unsuccessful bout in the dragon pit and had stolen a chaste kiss as she brushed the dirt from his cheeks.

She had never seen him turn so red before.

They were a long way from those innocent children they had been.

“Are you alright?” He asked, startling her out of her long lost thoughts. She looked at him and was surprisingly relieved to see he looked just as nervous as she was sure she looked.

“I am.” She assured him with an awkward smile. “Are you?”

“Yes.” He answered quickly, too quickly to portray any calmness about their current predicament.

Their hearts were racing as they stepped inside their new marital chambers. She immediately moved to the vanity, working on removing the many pins from her hair that had been pinching her all night.

She sighed dramatically as the pressure on her skull was relieved and the sound of an amused hum, an almost sounding laugh, caught her attention. She looked over her shoulder to see Aemond watching her thoughtfully.

The sight of him, the small upturn of his lips, the desire in his eye, should have stirred her own, but all she could feel was all consuming nerves.

Tonight she’d have to lie to him.

“You look beautiful.”

His words startled her, her eyes widening slightly, not having expected the compliment. She smiled bashfully, trucking a strand of hair behind her ear nervously as her gaze fell to the floor between them.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t told you that yet tonight. I haven’t told you since you’ve been back.”

She was surprised by how forward he was, his words so sincere yet so different from the man she knew stood before her.

It seemed she wasn’t the only one who longed for this marriage to be one of peace, to heal the wounds that had been so deeply ingrained in their family for so long.

He approached her slowly, the look in his eye one she had never seen before. Desire. He reached out, his hand moving to her jaw, his touch light as he held her as if he were afraid she would flee.

Her hands almost shook as she laid them across his strong chest, beginning to slowly undo the intricate buckles that covered him.

He let her undo each one, the sound of his own heavy breath betraying his nerves. Once his chest laid bare before her did he finally pull her in close to him, his gaze locked on hers as he leaned in close before finally kissing her.

He was soft, though as she responded to his kiss, he met her with fervor, portraying every ounce of pent up desire he’d unknowingly held for her for so long. He kissed her as if she were the very air he breathed.

Her mind was a mess of thoughts, swirling with desire and agony as she desperately wished his lips had been the first she kissed so passionately, that his touch that tightened on her waist as he undid the laces on her gown, were the first hands to touch her so intimately.

She couldn’t break herself from the thoughts as they moved to the bed. She couldn’t stop the heavy feeling of regret that tainted every one of his touches and fervent kisses.

Her chest heaved, her guilt portraying as nerves for a perceived first bedding. Aemond ran his hands up the length of her thighs, his touch, which should have caused butterflies to fly rampant within her, only reminded her of the man who had touched her previously.

He kissed her softly as he settled himself atop her.

“I’m sorry… this- it might hurt you.”

The claw of guilt inside her turned into a fist that clenched tightly and she squeezed her eyes shut.

“It’s alright.” She breathed out.

He kissed her again though the gesture, filled with so much affection, did little to soothe her as he intended to.

She kept her eyes on the ceiling, the guilt keeping her from looking at her husband, from seeing the eagerness in his gaze as he took her for the first time.

He eased inside of her slowly, the sound of his breath stuttering catching her attention, almost enough to incite her own arousal if her mind wasn’t tainted with worry, of suddenly being found out and ruined before she even got to enjoy her marriage.

With hatred for herself burning hotly within her she mimicked a sound of discomfort as he settled inside her.

“Are you alright?” He asked slightly breathlessly, his gaze looking down at her in concern.

She nodded stiffly, her throat tight as she met his eye. She soon wondered if the guilt would stop her breathing before he could even finish.

She tried her best to forget about the glaring guilt, she tried not to think about her night with Ser Darick, of the man who touched her before that shouldn’t have. She should’ve been in ecstasy to finally be laying with the man she had dreamed of for years, but as he moved inside her, she couldn’t help but wince, her lack of arousal keeping her from enjoying what she had desired for so long.

It at least helped with her charade of the innocent maiden who feared the marriage bed.

She watched her husband with barely contained emotion as his eye closed in pleasure, his lips parted with heavy breaths, the sound of his quiet moans had her wishing she could go back in time and never invite that Knight into her bed.

As she watched him find his pleasure, as he stuttered out her name in delight, she knew she could never hurt him. She could never reveal her secret for she could never cause him pain.

Above her, Aemond stiffened, his hips losing momentum, his grip on her hips tightening as he lost himself to his pleasure, a loud grunt falling from his lips as he reached his peak.

She exhaled loudly, an empty feeling settling within her, the guilt and anger at herself melding into self-loathing despair.

“I hurt you.” He breathed out, sounding pained as his hand cradled her cheek, his thumb wiping away the tear she hadn’t realized had fallen.

“I’m ok.” She assured her, though with how stilted her voice sounded, she knew he didn’t believe her.

He pulled out of her slowly and moved to lay next to her, his worried gaze never leaving hers. He moved his hand to rest at the back of her neck, gently urging her forward so his forehead could rest against hers.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered and she felt her eyes sting with more tears, his affection stirring the loathing that lashed her like a whip.

She shook her head and leaned into him, grasping onto his hand, holding tightly.

“I wish we could have had this earlier.” She whispered, the only admittance she could allow herself.

Aemond smiled softly and kissed her again, his touch gentle and careful, as if he worried about hurting her more.

“So do I.”

He held her as she struggled to sort out of her emotions, unaware of the torment within her.

By the next morning, she woke from a tumultuous sleep to find herself alone in bed.

Her heart began to race as she propped herself up, dread coursing within her veins as she suddenly feared the worst. That, somehow in the night, Aemond had figured out the truth and left in a rage, leaving her behind before she could even enjoy what they could’ve had.

“Good morning.”

The sound of his voice broke her out of her dark thoughts and she turned abruptly to see her new husband strolling in through the open balcony doors. He smiled lightly, looking slightly bashful to see her in such a vulnerable state, as if he hadn’t laid with her just hours before.

“The maids brought breakfast.”

She nodded and moved to peel the covers off her, hiding her wince at the flare of discomfort at the back of her thigh from where she had given herself a small cut after her husband had fallen asleep, using the small wound to stain the sheets with her blood that would not fall between her tainted legs.

She stood from the bed, oblivious to how Aemond’s eye followed the length of her body with intrigue as she reached for her robe. They shared small smiles, the air of awkwardness lingering as they stepped out onto the balcony together.

She immediately moved to pour herself a cup of tea, taking a much needed sip of the hot drink, praying it would soothe her frayed nerves. As Aemond took a seat next to her, she poured a second cup, adding a spoonful of honey before sliding it over to him.

His gaze remained on her, as if in awe, as she took another sip.

Feeling his eye on her, she turned, her brows raising in question at the beseeched expression on his face.

“Is everything alright?” She asked slowly and he nodded, clearing his throat, leaning his elbow on his knee as his curled fist covered his lips, covering the smile that began to grow.

“You remembered how I take my tea in the morning.” He spoke softly.

She felt her stomach twist, this time for reasons completely different from the regret that had been staunchly drowning her since the night before.

“Of course I did.” She said quietly with a shrug. “I wouldn’t forget anything about you.”

Her words, the knowledge that she had thought of him just as he had thought of her, had longed for him just as he had longed for her all those years they were separated, had a warmth spreading through him he had never felt before.

Any trepidation he had about the marriage, any qualms he had about Rhaenyra taking her place on the throne, of his nephews back in King’s Landing, shattered in an instant. Everything else seemed so inconsequential to him now that he married her, now that he got to call her his wife.

He reached out, slightly hesitantly, his heart racing as he placed his hand over hers.

Their eyes met and it was as if an understanding passed between them, a final puzzle piece falling into place.

“Can I kiss you?”

She nodded quickly and smiled as he leaned in. Their lips met in a gentle, unhurried kiss that was filled with quiet affection, the meeting of a new husband and wife who had just come to an understanding, who had put away years of complicated feelings and settled to live as the pair of childhood companions that felt nothing but love for each other.

As he kissed her, she forced herself to move past the pain in the back of her thigh. Under his assured yet gentle touch, she forced her guilt and regret to the depths of her mind, desperate to find peace with him.

Over the next couple of months, their marriage flourished in ways neither one of them had expected. Their time spent together had seemed to heal every slight from their childhood, leaving the both of them feeling lighter, no longer shrouded in the guise of hatred.

It would take time for Aemond to come around to her brothers, but he was finding it easier to let go of the fury that used to permeate every thought of them. They were by no means friends, but it was at least becoming easier to simply look at them, to exist among them.

One morning, as Rhaenyra and Alicent took their morning tea together in the gardens, they caught sight of the newly married couple, arm in arm, barely an inch of space between them.

“They are quite the match.” Alicent remarked with a smile as she looked at her son, the easy expression on his face a far cry from the scowl that had become all too familiar from her second son.

“They are.” Rhaenyra agreed, relief flowing through her as she heard her daughter’s laugh from across the yard, watching as she leaned into her husband.

She was more than thankful her dear daughter’s secret remained.

“I am sorry I took so long to agree to their union.” Alicent admitted almost shyly. “To see my Aemond as he is now, so carefree, so… unburdened with her. I regret that my hesitation caused him to suffer for longer than he needed to.”

Rhaenyra frowned and reached out, taking her friend’s hand, curling her fingers around her own.

“There is nothing to forgive. They are happy now… we are happy now. That is what matters.”

Alicent smiled, her eyes filled with emotion she hadn’t let herself reveal for so long. She squeezed Rhaenyra’s hand in silent comfort.

“I have heard the maids gossiping. It sounds as though it will not be long until there is a new babe to care for.”

Rhaenyra’s jaw dropped, a scandalized laugh escaping her as she looked at her friend, usually so demure, in disbelief.

“Oh gods, do not let them know they are being gossiped about.”

Alicent giggled, covering her mouth with her hand.

“I would never. I do not think my son would ever return to court if that were the case.”

“They are late to every dinner. Surely they know it is not much of a secret what they are doing.” Rhaenyra commented, descending them both into laughter once more.

While the both of them laughed as though they were young girls again, the two of them couldn’t help but feel as though an enormous weight had been lifted from their shoulders, allowing them to breathe easier.

The union between their children gave them what they needed, what they were desperately hoping for. The fact that their children were just as happy with each other was everything they needed to heal themselves.

They soon lost sight of their children and, judging by the gossip they heard from the maids, they thought they preferred not knowing exactly what they were getting up to.

It was for the better because the second Aemond had enough of the desire raging through his body, he had dragged his wife back to their chambers, only a mere hour after they had left it for the morning.

He couldn’t get enough of her.

He could barely get through his day without succumbing to his fire that burned hotly for her. Their walk in the garden, their duties for the rest of the day were long forgotten as he took her roughly atop her vanity, the wooden legs shaking beneath their passionate affair.

“Aemond!” She called out, her hands tightening at the back of his head where she had fistfulls of his hair. He groaned and quickened his pace, thrusting into her with the ferocity of an animal.

Over their time together, she had been able to relax around him, thinking less and less of that horrible night with her guard that could have ruined everything. She allowed herself to fall into him, to let herself think of nothing but him, and she couldn’t have been more thankful.

He took her daily, their union fiercely passionate, the two of them quickly becoming insatiable for each other.

“Fuck, darling, you are perfect.” Aemond growled, his hips never faltering in their harsh rhythm as he took her roughly.

The way he took her now and had been for weeks was a far cry from the tepid and shy man she had seen on their wedding night.

Cries fell from her lips as she desperately held him, her only tether in the haze of pleasure he now could so easily spiral her to.

“Don’t stop.” She begged breathlessly, her head falling back to her shoulders, her eyes shut tightly as he fucked her so hard it was all she could do to hold and enjoy the ride.

“Never, my love, I'll never stop.” He promised her, the desperation in his voice clear. He panted heavily as his hips moved with precision, eager to reach that spot he knew ruined her completely.

He longed to see her unravel, he longed to hear her scream for him. It had quickly become the greatest thing he had ever been fortunate enough to witness and his greatest accomplishment.

His grip on her hips tightened, his awed gaze fluttering over her form, eager to take in every inch of her.

Her toes curled, a high pitched moan sounding as her body tensed, as she felt herself creeping up on the crest of blinding pleasure.

“That’s it love, cum for me. Do it for me, I need it.” He rambled, his voice rough, causing shivers to race down her spine.

Her nails dug into his shoulders and his answering grunt of pleasure undid her completely. She screamed his name, her hips jolting against his as she reached her peak. Aemond held her tightly, his arms moving around her back to hold him to her as his hips stuttered, becoming frantic in his final moments.

“Fuck… fuck!” He yelled as he felt her tighten around him.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, planting sloppy kisses along the delicate slope before he felt the curling of hazy pleasure unfurl within him.

His eye squeezed shut, his jaw fell slack as a breathless moan escaped him as he came. Small cries left him, his hips continuing to move, losing their intensity as he spilled inside her.

Their shared heavy breaths echoed throughout the room as neither one of them moved an inch. He continued to hold her tightly, wrapped around her completely. He shivered against her as she began to caress the length of his back, her soft hands moving up and down gently, causing him to sigh in delight.

After a few long moments, as they caught their breath, he pulled away, nudging his nose against hers, smirking lightly at the sight of her so thoroughly spent. He kissed her assuredly, his tongue tangling with hers, his touch still firm, as if he were still desperate for her.

They parted with the need for air, soft smiles shared between the two, almost bashful, as if they hadn’t just fucked debauchedly as though they were in a brothel. He pulled out of her and began to clean the mess between her thighs, delighting in the way she’d twitch against his touches, thoroughly overstimulated from his hands.

“Do you remember when you put jam in my hair?” He asked suddenly, causing her to look down at him with a raised brow in disbelief.

“You are thinking about that now?”

The childhood memory was not forgotten but she certainly hadn’t been thinking of it after he had ravished her.

“With how you were just pulling on it, I’m beginning to think you have some kind of vendetta against my hair.” He remarked with a smirk as he pulled his breeches back up and grabbed his discarded doublet that she’d torn off him.

She laughed and shook her head, her eyes trailing his every move, pouting almost reflexively as he dressed himself, covering up that beautiful body from her eager gaze.

“It is beautiful. Perhaps I am trying to sabotage you out of jealousy.” She smiled coyly.

“Jealousy?” He echoed in disbelief. “Darling, you are the most stunning woman in the realm, you have little to be jealous of.”

She felt her cheeks heat as she half-heartedly rolled her eyes. Since they had become more comfortable with each other, his compliments had been never ending, never failing to make her swoon each and every time.

“So, same time tomorrow?” She joked, to which he snorted and looked over at her, nothing but adoration in his eye.

He stepped toward her again, pulling the fallen sleeve of her dress back in place.

“Oh, darling, I will have you again tonight, surely.” He drawled, reveling in the way she seemed to shiver against him, already eagerly anticipating the night and agonizing over the hours between.

He kissed her again and leaned his forehead against hers, as if he needed a moment longer with her before parting from her side.

“I will find you once I am finished.” He assured her.

As he left her to continue with his duties for the day he had steadily been ignoring, she finished cleaning herself up and fixing her disheveled hair.

Her smile remained as she righted her dress, her legs trembling slightly as she made slow steps across their chambers. She just knew Baela would be dragging their salacious actions out of her the second she saw her.

The giddy feeling within her crumbled into dust the moment she opened the door and came face to face with the one person she was content to never see again.

Her face fell, a look of horror overtaking her features.

“Ser Darick.”

Her voice shook as she greeted him, which seemed to only deepen his smug grin.

“Princess.” He bowed dutifully. “It has been too long.”

The sarcasm that laced his words cut her deeply and she averted her gaze, her heart racing wildly. The memories of that fateful night, the guilt that she had been able to push into the depths of her mind resurfaced with the force of a punch, almost enough to knock her off her feet.

She didn’t spare the man another look as she took off down the hall, her face crumbling into a deep frown as frustrated tears filled her eyes.

He would ruin everything.

Her hand was clutched to her mother’s, her retelling of the day striking a need for her motherly touch.

“I will take care of it.”

“How?”

“I will find a way.”

She remained silent, her face twisted with fear and disgust.

“What if he knows?”

“He doesn’t.”

“You cannot know that. Why would he be reassigned to me? Surely this is some plot to ruin me.” She rambled, her worried mind not allowing her to think straight.

“The guards are spread thin here. We needed more help so guards from Dragonstone were requested here, but I… I had no idea he would be assigned to you.”

She sighed heavily, her mother’s words doing little to reassure her.

“I can’t keep lying to him.”

“Darling-”

“I love him and I can’t stand the fact that our marriage is built on a lie.”

Rhaenyra clenched her jaw, her teeth pulling her bottom lip tightly. Before she could even attempt to soothe her daughter the door opened and Daemon stepped into their shared chambers.

Both women tensed, sitting up straighter in their seats at his unexpected arrival.

His eyes flitted between both women curiously, immediately sensing the tension in the room.

“Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine, my love.”

His wife’s words did little to soothe the awkward energy in the room.

“What are you two discussing?”

“Guard rotations.”

Daemon looked at his step-daughter with narrowed eyes, the topic one he had not expected. His instincts were telling him something was wrong, that he was being lied to.

“Is someone not to your liking?”

“Ser Darick has been assigned as her guard and we hoped we could find someone else for her.”

“Why?”

“No specific reason-” Rhaenyra attempted to diffuse the situation, but he had seen right through it, he knew something was amiss.

“I don’t understand. Ser Darick was your guard for years, he was loyally by your side, he watched over you, he cared for-”

Daemon’s sentence stopped abruptly, as if he had suddenly realized the double meaning in his words. His eyes narrowed, the angry fire burning within him so hotly she had to turn away from his gaze. He looked to his wife, as if needing confirmation to the thought burning in his brain.

When Rhaenyra sighed disappointedly, her gaze moving away from his, he felt as though he had the answer to the horrible explanation he had conjured.

Within a second he unsheathed his sword, causing his daughter to flinch and Rhaenyra to get to her feet.

“Daemon-”

“Where is he?”

“You need to calm down-”

“I will strike every limb from his body and string him-”

“Please stop!” She yelled, stopping her father’s detailed description of the torture he would inflict on the man he believed to have committed an egregious crime.

“You cannot seriously be protecting the man that took advantage of you. He touched you, he raped you! He should be fed to our dragons!”

“He didn’t rape me!”

Daemon remained quiet, taking in her words slowly. His face twisted, an expression of confusion soon morphing into dread and she shifted in her seat under his intense glare.

“You didn’t.” He spat. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“Daemon, please.”

“You let that guard into your bed?”

She leaned her elbows on her knees, her head falling into her hands as she breathed heavily, embarrassment washing over her like a tidal wave that threatened to drown her. She would surely welcome it.

“It was a mistake.” Rhaenyra chimed in, trying to ease the fury in her husband.

“Of course it was a fucking mistake.” Daemon bellowed. “How could you be so simple minded?”

She raised her head, staring plainly at the man before her. She’d heard about his tales before he had married her mother, the Prince of Flea Bottom, the many times he had been banished by the King and he had the audacity to shame her about who she bedded.

“Your hypocrisy is astounding.”

“Don’t be cute.” Daemon scolded. He tightened his grip on his sword, his anger still burning. “I’m still going to kill him.”

“You are going to do no such thing. Rumors will spread if a guard mysteriously winds up murdered. We will solve this quietly and reassign him so he will never lay his eyes on you again and you will never tell a soul about what happened that night.” Rhaenyra countered, her eyes locked onto her daughter sternly.

She could only nod, the guilt she’d steadily buried in the face of her happiness, in the bliss she’d found with Aemond, now clawing its way forward, threatening to tear her apart piece by piece.

“There you are.” Aemond greeted her with a smile, bending down to press a kiss to the top of her head. Their chambers had been empty when he returned from training and he knew the first place to look for her was Helaena’s chambers.

Her heart skipped as she saw him, her mind racing, screaming at her to blurt out her secret, to spill everything that was weighing heavily on her, darkening her soul, but she found no words could escape her.

She smiled stiffly, forcefully pushing past the overwhelming regret and sadness that threatened to choke her.

“Are you finished with your training?”

He nodded as he took a seat next to her, his soft smile directed to the children who played at his feet.

“I am and I suddenly found myself in desperate need of my wife’s company.”

“Well, I am sorry to disappoint you, but we were just about to leave.”

“Leave? Where are you going?”

“We are going to the markets in Flea Bottom.” Helaena answered happily, oblivious to the way her brother’s expression darkened at her words.

Aemond looked to her desperately, as if pleading with her to tell him his sister was mistaken, that she wasn’t going to roam the dangerous streets of Flea Bottom.

She sighed, taking his hand in hers.

“She wishes to find gifts for the twins’ name day.” She spoke softly so the children would not hear.

“Send servants.”

“She wants to pick them out herself.”

Aemond exhaled loudly and pinched the bridge of his nose. He startled when his wife stood from the couch and he reached out for her hand, but she was already walking away.

“Come with us brother.” Helaena offered, oblivious to the torment unfurling in her protective sibling. “We will be taking guards, but we will be more protected with you at our side.”

She smiled widely and linked her arm through Helaena’s, looking to her faithful husband.

“Well, you heard her.”

Aemond let out a long sigh, the thought of his beloved and his dear sister venturing down the dangerous streets of King’s Landing loathsome, but with one look at his wife’s stare, he was powerless to refuse her wishes.

“Just for a short visit.”

The wide smile she gave in return was all he needed to stop himself from refusing the offer.

He followed behind the two women, their group of guards walking behind him faithfully as they made their way into the city.

Aemond kept his eyes fleeting between his sweet sister and his beloved wife as they perused each vendor they passed. He admired his wife as her face lit up at the sight of a beautiful trinket that had caught her eye. He admired the way she smiled at each vendor, politely asking them questions, dignifying their compliments about her beauty and kindness.

She was truly a marvel, the most beautiful sight to behold.

“Aemond, look, isn’t this beautiful?” Helaena called out to him, breaking him from his trance as she held up a butterfly figurine. “I think Jaehaera will find this absolutely divine, she’s always admiring the butterflies in the garden.”

“She will love it.” He assured her with a small smile, following her as the ever protective brother he was as they ventured to the next vendor, caught up with another bout of glasswork she had found.

He felt as though he had only taken his eyes off his wife for a minute when the yelling started. A fight had broken out between two vendors and the crowd around them had responded to the sudden surge of violence with equal measure.

His arm immediately went around Helaena who cowered and covered her ears as the crowd yelled and became insufferably loud. He briefly made eye contact with a man in the crowd, the lowborn recognizing the pair of royals before him and, as most disparities of power result, decided to direct his anger towards them.

Aemond guided Helaena into the capable hands of her guard as he unsheathed his sword menacingly, warning the crowd not to try their luck with the famed one-eyed dragon prince.

The crowd soon became raucous, screaming, shouting and pushing at anyone they could get their hands onto.

Aemond quickly spotted his sister being scurried away from the action, though his stomach dropped when he could not spot his wife.

He yelled her name, the sound lost in the chaos of the riotous crowd. He pushed people out of the way carelessly, elbowing his way back to where he had last seen her. His heart dropped at the sight of her absence. He became more desperate, his voice sounding weak as he stood atop a vendor’s booth, trying to catch a glimpse of her.

The longer he did not see her, the more fear encased every inch of him.

A muffled scream left her as a sturdy hand latched over her mouth, a strong arm wrapped around her waist as she was carried away from the action of the riots ensuing in the streets of King’s Landing.

She hadn’t seen Helaena or Aemond. As soon as the fighting started she had been dragged away, seemingly against her will. She had thought it was a member of the King’s Guard but as the hand stayed steadily over her mouth and the painful arm carrying her through the streets of Flea Bottom refused to recede, she became more and more fearful of who had latched onto her.

The grip on her slackened and she quickly pushed her way out of the grip, her expression a mask of derision as she faced who had manhandled her so roughly. Her face fell, an icy feeling of dread spreading through her veins as she met the gaze of Ser Darick.

He sneered and gripped her arm again, pulling her into his side.

“Stop struggling, Princess, we don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.” He warned, though it sounded more like a threat as he pulled her along with him back to the Red Keep.

She remained still, allowing him to drag her forward, her face passive as they made their way through the halls of the Keep. She felt equal parts relief and dread as he forced her into her chambers.

He slammed the door shut behind them, his face dark with anger, his hand still sturdily gripping her arm.

“You have brought me back, now leave.” She ordered harshly as she wrenched her arm out of his grip.

“Not until we talk.”

“We have nothing to talk about.”

“You invited me into your bed, let me fuck you and then ignored me. I deserve to know why.” He argued angrily. Her face twisted with derision, at the reminder of that night she had acted so carelessly.

“I am truly sorry for how I treated you, it was wrong of me to take such liberties. But the night we had was simply a night of desperation. I am married now. I love my husband and you need to move on.”

He scoffed, looking at her with nothing but derision.

“I don’t believe you.”

“What?”

“That night. It didn’t mean nothing to you. It couldn’t have.”

He stepped towards her, forcing her to take frantic steps backwards, but he was quicker. He gripped onto her shoulders, his touch strong and harsh.

“Let go of me.” She hissed through gritted teeth, her heart racing, the beginnings of dread seeping through her, chilling the blood that ran through her veins.

“I know you felt something that night. No one could fake that passion. I know you feel something for me. I know you have for years.”

Her eyes widened, staring back at the man completely dumbfounded as she squirmed under his hands.

“You have gone mad.”

“I gave you pleasure that night, Princess. I made you cum under me. I made you moan for me.” He spoke earnestly, making her wince and shake her head, desperately trying to pry his hands off her.

“It meant nothing.”

“Of course it did!”

“Get off!” She yelled as she pushed at his chest, causing him to stumble a few paces back.

The door suddenly slammed open, her breathless and worried husband storming into their chambers. He seemed to deflate in relief when he saw her, every ounce of fear dissipating in a second, though when he noticed the guard in their chambers, his expression twisted into confusion.

“Are you hurt?” He asked worriedly, stepping towards her hurriedly, assuming she had been injured in the fight and that was the reason the guard was in the room with her alone.

“No, I’m fine.” She assured him, her voice quivering.

He grabbed her trembling hands in his, looking over her in concern briefly before his untrusting eye turned towards the guard who couldn’t take his eyes off her.

The anger in his gaze did not go unnoticed by Aemond who stiffened, his hand reaching for the sword at his hip instinctively.

The guard smiled sardonically to his wife, the sight setting the blood in his veins on fire.

“Princess.” He bowed and turned on his heel, leaving the room. The fact that he did not address Aemond only angered him further.

“Who was that?” Aemond questioned the second the door closed behind him.

“He was my guard at Dragonstone.” She answered monotonously, her chest aching in fear as her waking nightmare unfurled before her.

“Did he hurt you?” Aemond’s anger flared as he looked at her questioningly, his gaze searching her frantically for any indication that her guard had stepped out of place.

“No, he didn’t hurt me.” She spoke quietly, omitting mentioning the bruises she was sure would be blooming on her arm from his harsh grip.

He stared at her quizzically, knowing deep within him that something was wrong. The look on her face, one of muted horror, was striking and the fact that she couldn’t meet his eye had worry stirring within him so strongly his hand twitched towards his sword once again, ready to strike down the mysterious guard at her command.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I-”

“Yes, you’ve said that, but I do not believe you.” He interrupted, fighting between his confusion and his worry as she flinched at his harsh tone. He wanted to reach out to her, but something held him back, something he didn’t quite understand.

She wrapped her arms around herself as she turned away from him. He called her name slowly, his critical eye never leaving her.

“Who is he?”

“He is no one.”

His heart raced and he suddenly felt sick to his stomach as a multitude of answers swirled through his mind, none of them bringing any kind of peace.

“Do you love him?” He asked abruptly, jumping to the worst conclusion he could have possibly conjured.

“No, of course not!” She yelled, perturbed by the mere question.

“Then why does he look at you as if you have a history?”

“I swear to you, Aemond, he is nothing to me.”

“So nothing has happened between you two?”

She remained quiet, her mind racing with a million different answers to the question, most lies, but only one truth, the one that spoke the loudest.

Her silence rang loud in the room and Aemond’s face shifted instantly, first to shock, then disbelief, then betrayal, and finally to fury.

“You… you and him…” He startled slowly, trying to find the words to explain the blinding anger that overtook him so greatly it soon became hard to breathe.

The images that his mind created, visions of her tangled in the sheets with that man, her soft touch on his body, her sweet moans he relished given to him.

“Aemond-”

“You fucked him?”

“Please-”

“Answer me. Did you fuck him?”

Her breath caught in her throat, her pulse pounding in her ears. Her world was crashing down around her and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

“Yes.” She breathed out weakly.

A bitter laugh left him, a sound filled with so much anger it made her wince, tears beginning to burn in her eyes.

“Aemond, please, I can explain-” She began as she approached him, reaching out for his hand, but he yanked his arm away from her, staring back at her with such vitriol it was as if a dagger had been lodged in her chest.

“Explain what? That you have been lying to me this entire time? That I married a whore?”

Her eyes widened, his words striking her harshly. She had seen him angry before, she had seen him vindictive before, but it had never been directed at her, he had never spoken to her with such hatred, as if he were eager to hurt her.

“It was before our marriage. I have never even looked at another man since I knew you were to be my husband.”

He shook his head, his chest heaving, an ache settling deep within him. Jealousy tore through him roughly, all he could think of was her tangled passionately with another man, and it made him see red.

She reached for him again and he shut her down with a vicious scowl.

“Don’t touch me.”

She breathed heavily, her own anger beginning to rise at his stubborn refusal to listen to her. She knew if he ever found out it would cause a rift, but she had thought after the time they had spent together, that what they shared would be too special to let a mistake from the past rupture the beautiful love they had carved for themselves.

“Are you serious?” She snapped, her patience wearing thin the longer he directed his fury towards her.

She thought of Daemon’s reaction, of Aemond’s disgusted scowl, and it made her seethe. If she had been a man no one would be batting an eye and she wanted to scream at how entirely unfair life was simply because of what lay between her legs.

“I had one night and I am penalized but you can do whatever you want with your body and I am just supposed to accept it. As if you haven’t followed Aegon to the brothels.”

“I am not my brother!” He yelled fiercely, his overt anger making her flinch.

She stayed quiet, her anger receding as quick as it had come, leaving her with nothing but guilt. She knew she had crossed a line.

Anybody could see how different the Targaryen brothers were, how much more accustomed to duty and honor Aemond was, how he refused to defile himself and shame his family as Aegon continued to do.

It was deadly silent between them, neither one of them with anything productive or relatively polite to say to the other.

With a clenched jaw, Aemond stormed out of the room without sparing her a look.

His breath left him in uneven pants as he stormed down the hall, unaware of where he was headed.

Images of her, his sweet wife, his beloved, wrapped up in another man’s arms replayed in his head torturously. He felt his eye sting with emotion he desperately attempted to hold at bay.

He loved his wife, but this was agony.

He loved her, but she had lied to him.

He didn’t know what to make sense of the situation. He didn’t even know what to make sense of what he was feeling.

He was at a loss as to what his marriage held.

The only thing he could make out in the whirlwind of thoughts was pain.

He avoided her for the rest of the day and the next, choosing to sleep in his old chambers instead of returning to her.

He couldn’t bear to face her, not after what he had yelled at her so callously, not after he had called her a whore, not after he had spent hours picturing her with that guard.

It was agonizing to think of.

He avoided dinner, giving flimsy excuses to the maids that dared to approach him.

He sat out on the balcony of his old chambers, gazing out sightlessly into the night before him. The sound of his chamber doors opening had him rolling his eye, looking over his shoulder at the intruder with a scowl.

Aegon gave him an annoyed look.

“You know you have mother worried sick? She sent me to find you, you twat.”

Aemond remained quiet as he turned to look back out onto the horizon.

“What are you doing out here?” Aegon asked as he took a seat at his side, causing him to sigh loudly, not bothering to hide his disdain for his presence. “I figured you would be busy fucking your wife. You seem to do little else lately.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched as he steadily refused to meet his brother’s eyes.

“What? Has your paradise been ruined already?” Aegon joked, though when he received no reaction from Aemond, not even anger, he knew something was truly wrong. “What happened?” He asked, sounding more sincere than even he expected.

Aemond remained quiet for a long moment, dreading to say the words aloud, as if it made them more real than they already were.

“She had a dalliance with a guard.”

“She has been unfaithful?”

“It was before she came back to King’s Landing, before the wedding.” He mumbled.

Aegon was quiet for a few seconds as he took in his brother’s words and eventually shrugged nonchalantly.

“So?”

Aemond glared coldly at his brother, the flippant response sparking his fury once more.

“Finding out your wife let another man into her bed isn’t exactly comforting news.”

“It happened before she was your wife and, judging by how infatuated she seems with you, I’m willing to bet it happened before she knew you were the one she was to marry.”

Aemond sighed loudly, no matter the circumstances, no matter whatever explanation he could think of, it did nothing to quell the green eyed beast that took over him. He had grown to deeply love his wife, the girl he had latched onto in childhood, the only one who seemed to root for him.

The thought of her in the clutches of lust with anyone that wasn’t him was enough to incite his anger.

He had never had a passionate, loving embrace. He certainly didn’t count what he endured on his thirteenth nameday, the moment that brought him nothing but shame. To think that she could so easily bring someone into her bed, have someone touch her lovingly, bring her pleasure, just as he could to her, stirred a fury in him he could barely comprehend.

“So, she betrayed you, what happens next?” Aegon asked, a smarmy smirk growing on his lips, striking Aemond’s anger before he could even speak of the depravities that mingled in his mind. “How about I take you down to the Silk Street and you can get back at her.”

In the blink of an eye, Aemond was on his feet, his face drawn tightly with fury, his angry glare locked onto his brother who laughed raucously at his reaction.

“Easy!” He yelled, shoving his brother’s hands off of him that gripped his shirt, ready to throttle him. “Gods, you have no sense of humor.”

“You know you don’t have to be here.” Aemond growled, sending his brother a final fierce scowl that silently threatened him of saying anything untoward about his marriage, before settling himself back in his seat.

Aegon watched his brother carefully, noting the agony within him and he sighed.

“Look, you clearly care about her. She is your wife and you two have been able to build a bond which is more than many can say.”

Aemond looked at him, surprised by his honest words, surprised that he wasn’t slurring as he spoke.

“Are you willing to give that up for a mistake she made before you loved each other?”

He looked taken aback at the question. The mere thought of letting her go was unfathomable. The thought was so horrible it turned his stomach more than his jealousy ever could.

“I cannot stop picturing her with him.” He admitted quietly, almost shamefully.

Aegon sighed, while he didn’t have anyone he loved as Aemond loved his wife, he had to admit, it didn't sound easy to picture the woman you loved in the arms of another man.

“So, let’s say you give up, what then? She marries someone else and warms their bed instead?”

Aemond grit his teeth and sent a wicked glare to his brother who held his hands up in surrender.

“Just think about it, brother. Get over it or let her go.” Aegon stated bluntly before parting from his side, leaving him to bury his head in his hands, a long slow breath falling past his lips.

He didn’t want to let her go, he didn’t want to end what they had, he didn’t want to lose her.

He breathed deeply again, forcing the green-eyed monster within him to retreat, to let him think clearly for once.

He pictured her face, her teary eyes as she stared at him in disbelief as he threw horrible insults her way. He winced, his eye squeezing shut, as if the memory itself hurt him physically.

He had to make this right.

He stepped into their shared chambers, his body rigid with nervous anticipation. He startled slightly as the sight of her was suddenly blocked, Baela having immediately got to her feet at the sight of him, standing in front of her half-sister protectively.

“What do you think you’re doing here?”

Aemond rolled his eye, sending a glare to the stubborn woman.

“These are my chambers.”

“Are they now? They haven’t seemed to be yours the past few days.” Baela responded sarcastically, forcing him to hold back a wince at the reminder of how he’d left his wife alone and worried for days on end in his fit of anger and jealousy.

He looked past Baela to find her looking back at him worriedly, wondering if this was the moment he left for good. The sight pained him deeply and he sighed heavily.

“I came here to talk.” He spoke softly, looking past her human shield, trying to appeal to his kind wife.

“I think you’ve said plenty.”

“Baela, it’s ok.” She said softly, hoping to stop her half-sister before she ended up in a physical fight with her husband. With how angry Baela had been on her behalf she knew it was certainly a possibility.

Baela looked back at her questioningly, to which she nodded, silently assuring her she would be ok.

With a sour expression, Baela left her side, her glare darkening as she passed the one eyed prince.

“If I see any more tears fall from her eyes, not even Vhagar will save you from me.” She threatened before stepping out of their chambers.

Aemond let out a long breath. The sight of his wife upset cut him deeply, he knew he would let Baela inflict whatever pain she wanted on him if he hurt her any more.

He looked at her, subtly wincing as he noticed she was looking away, refusing to meet his gaze. He moved forward slowly, never taking his eye off her as he approached. He sat on the opposite couch, making sure to leave space between them.

He didn’t think she’d be comfortable with anything else and he didn’t think he deserved to be so close to her, not after what he had said to her just days ago.

“I’m sorry for what I said. I was angry and I took it out on you. You didn’t deserve my words.” He started quietly.

She remained quiet, her gaze yet to meet his. The longer she didn’t look at him, the quicker his heart raced.

“I want to understand. I know you have no feelings for this man, but… it may kill me, but I want to know what happened between you two.”

“Why would that change things?” She asked stiffly.

“What?”

“You know I have no love for this man, you know I only care for you. So what more do you need to know?”

Aemond swallowed against the lump that grew in his throat. Aegon’s words came back to him, that her dalliance could have happened before she even knew they were to be married.

“I need to know that I wasn’t the cause of this.”

She turned to him fully, her brows furrowed as she looked at him in bewilderment. She was sure a piece of her heart had shattered. He thought she had chosen to jump into bed with a guard because the news of her marriage to him was so horrible she was desperate to seek comfort.

She let out a shaking breath and smoothed down the skirt of her dress.

“Do you remember Lady Eleanor?”

Aemond looked confused for a moment at the sudden turn in conversation, but took a moment to think deeply before nodding.

“She was your friend when we were children.” He answered softly. “I remember I could scarcely find any time with you without her presence.”

She smiled at the onslaught of memories that rushed through her mind, all hazed in the happiness of childhood innocence, though she was quick to be reminded of the grief that rose at the mere thought of her old friend.

“She was married off to a Tully Lord. The man was older than her father. His past three wives all died mysteriously, no one dared to question why.” She explained stiffly. “I could tell from her letters that she wasn’t happy.”

Aemond watched her, frowning slightly at the dull tone of her voice, of the tortured look in her eyes, as if she was recounting something too painful to ever speak of again. He sat up straighter, longing to reach out to her, but he held back, suddenly reminding himself of the rift between them.

“She birthed him a daughter, just as his previous wives had. The next day they found her body by the river.” She spoke quietly, her voice growing hoarse with emotion. “They could barely recognize her, she was black and blue, every bone broken by his hands.”

Aemond shifted in his seat, an unsettled feeling growing within him. He remembered the annoying little girl who followed his niece around and now felt nothing but horror at the memory of her.

“Her husband faced no punishment. No one dared to question why yet another young girl was dead. I don’t even know what happened to the babe, if she-” She stopped abruptly, unable to finish the thought.

Her vision blurred with tears which only began to steadily slip down her cheeks as she felt his hand take hers, their fingers intertwining.

“His name was in consideration for my hand in marriage.” She admitted, finally bringing her gaze to reach her husband’s, immediately noticing the dread that shrouded him.

Despite the fact that they were married and had been for months, the mere prospect of her being forced into marriage with a man so barbaric left him feeling sick.

She let out a shaking breath, pulling her hand from his as she wiped her tears furiously, forcing her expression into a mask of indifference, refusing to show him her weakness.

“I’m sure that changes nothing for you, but I figured you should know.” She spoke hoarsely. “My night with Ser Darick meant nothing. I had no idea you were my betrothed. I thought I’d have one more night for myself before I was forced to be a silent, battered wife who would wind up dead in a matter of months.”

Aemond exhaled shakily, his gaze watching her curiously. Her sadness cut him deeply and while he could never understand the fear she felt, the fear almost every woman in the realm faced at the prospect of marriage, he couldn’t help but ache for her, for what she feared.

The thought of her so scared, resigning herself to be abused, forced into a marriage with a man that would treat her horribly, had his hands clenching into fists, forcing back the desire to draw blood from men that weren’t even present.

“I’m sorry.” She choked out, her teary eyes finally meeting his, causing the lump in his throat to swell.

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“No, I do. I betrayed you. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, I acted as nothing more than a lowly street whore.”

Aemond clenched his jaw, a flash of pain striking him deeply. His previous words he had thrown at her in anger caught up to him, hurting him as if they had been directed at himself. The guilt that overcame him was overpowering, enough to knock him off kilter, enough to haunt him for the rest of his life.

“I didn’t mean it.” He told her, his voice weak, portraying his pain.

“You said it.”

His chest ached yet again at the sadness in her voice, her teary eyed gaze hurting him like a sword to the heart.

“I was angry and I didn’t mean a word of what I said. I let my jealousy rule me.” He explained to her, reaching out to take her hand in his again. “But you mean more to me than my anger, you mean more to me than a single mistake.”

Her eyes narrowed, derision crossing her features, as if she didn’t believe him, as if his forgiveness was too good to be true. As she shook her head, he felt his heart crack yet again.

“You’ve forced yourself to feel nothing but derision for me for years, I’m sure you can do it again.” She spoke tersely, her eyes betraying her hurt as they brimmed with tears. “I’ll tell my mother we wish for an annulment.”

“Stop.” He demanded angrily, looking at her with barely contained hurt.

“I’m sure your mother will be thrilled.”

“Love, please-”

“You can be married to a pure maiden within the next moon.”

“Stop!” He yelled, finally cutting off her frantic rambles. She looked at him with wide, tearful eyes, the sight causing his chest to hurt in ways he couldn’t even fathom.

He breathed heavily for a moment, allowing his anger to fade.

“I won’t let you end this. I care about you too much to let you go.”

Her heart jumped at his words, her emotions beginning to stir once again. She let out a trembling breath, a glaringly bitter thought in her head she couldn’t move past from.

“Please, do not hate me for asking…” She started quietly, swallowing thickly as she looked to him hesitantly “Do you forgive me because you wish for power? Because you will one day be consort, because your heir will sit the throne?”

Aemond tensed, his gaze full of bewilderment. He had to admit, maybe in the beginning, the prospect of being consort enticed him, but now, it wasn’t even a thought in his head.

It hadn’t been since the moment she stepped out of that carriage and their eyes met for the first time in years.

“I forgive you because I love you.” Aemond answered, as if it was the most simple explanation he could have given.

Her breath caught in her throat, completely taken aback by his admission, one he gave freely, the genuine look in his eye making her crumble within.

“You love me?” She choked out and he smiled sadly, the sight of her reluctance to believe it causing the ache in his chest to throb once more. He moved to sit closer to her, taking her hand in his.

“I have loved you for a long time. Much longer than I would like to admit.” He spoke with a soft laugh. “The things you did for me in our childhood…” He paused, taking in a deep breath. “Sometimes it felt like you were the only one who cared.”

She frowned, her hand holding his tightly, her heart aching to hear him so vulnerable.

“I could never turn my back on you. I could never let you walk away from our marriage, not for anything.”

He was more than surprised when her lips descended on his with a fierce kiss, one that was filled with hunger, longing, and relief. He immediately wrapped his arms around her, responding to her kiss with equal fervor, moaning against her as her hands winded through his hair, the gesture so intimate, so familiar to their last months together.

They pulled away, breathing heavily.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” She whispered, sounding pained, as if she would have to repent for his forgiveness for the rest of her life.

He shook his head and held her tighter. He leaned his forehead against hers, swallowing thickly against the small ounce of doubt that creeped within him.

“He truly means nothing to you?”

She seemed pained by his question, her expression twisting as she placed her hand against his cheek as she looked at him with reverence.

“He is nothing to me. I have not had a single thought of him since I’ve loved you.”

He perked up, his wide eye searching hers, as if looking for any sign of dishonesty. But he found none.

He wouldn’t, for she loved him just as he loved her.

He crashed his lips to hers, his hands holding her tightly as he pulled her onto his lap, eager to place his touch upon her and equally as eager for her greedy hands to bestow their pleasure upon him.

He preened under her gentle caresses, her hardened tugs at his hair, her eager hips that grinded against his. He longed for everything she was willing to give him.

He could feel the jealousy that had blinded him, that green-eyed monster that threatened to ruin it all, fade to nothing while he was in her arms.

He would not let a single mistake tear apart what they had, what had been growing since their childhood.

He loved her and she loved him.

It was all he needed.

They mended back together with ease. With Ser Darick transferred, no longer a glaring reminder of her indiscretion, they were able to put the incident past them.

Her brothers questioned what had happened, why there seemed to be a rift in her marriage then, as quickly as it had come, disappeared as she and her husband soon proved themselves as a united front, more infatuated with each other than ever.

She didn’t give them any answers. She only assured them she was happy, that Aemond treated her well and that their marriage was a success.

They were back to the blissful, wonderstruck and obsessed couple they had been before her secret had been revealed.

Until the dinner for the King’s nameday.

Her arm was locked with her husband’s as they stepped into the dining hall, their smiles mirroring each other as they spoke quietly.

Aemond suddenly stopped in his tracks, his body becoming stiff as stone. She looked up at him, her smile falling at the sight of the murderous rage in his eye.

She followed his gaze and paled instantly, her stomach twisting with fear as she found Ser Darick’s smirking face staring back at her. She swallowed against the lump that grew in her throat and held tighter to Aemond’s arm.

“Let’s sit.” She spoke quietly, having to basically drag him along with her to take their seats at the table.

Aemond’s glare remained on the man as he took his seat, his eye cold and unflinching. His wife had told him about that day the guard confronted her, explaining his strange possessiveness, the harsh way he held her.

He wanted to kill the guard the second he saw the bruises on her arms, but she held onto him tightly, begging him not to leave her alone, begging him to drop the matter completely.

She so desperately wanted to forget the entire thing and she knew if Aemond killed him, it would invite questions she dreaded to answer.

The fury he felt at the sight of her bruises, at how scared she had been because of that guard, hadn’t left him. He had kissed every mark on her body, though it did little to soothe the storm inside of him, the desire to draw blood from the man that dared to hurt her.

His fingers tapped erratically atop the table, his deadly scowl never wavering from the man who smugly smirked back at him, inciting his rage.

Her hand covered his, startling him out of his haze of anger. He looked over at her and she gave him a weak smile, her eyes pleading with him to not act on his anger. There was a look of regret in her gaze, as her guilt returned tenfold, as if she were the one angering him.

The sight tore his anger away in an instant and he intertwined their fingers, squeezing her hand comfortingly, silently assuring her, promising her he wasn’t upset with her, that her guilt was for naught.

“I love you.” She mouthed to him, wanting to remind him in the face of her dreaded mistake and he smiled, mouthing the words back to her.

The days they had spent together over the past weeks were enough to heal him of the fierce jealousy that had wracked him at the news of her night with her guard. She had spent night after night worshiping him, bestowing pleasure upon him that left his mind spinning, proving to him over and over again that he was the only one she wanted, he was the only one she had eyes for, and he was the only one she would pleasure so intently.

Their thoughts of that damned guard were gone swiftly as the King was carried into the room, the sight of his decaying and weak body stealing their attention completely.

King Viserys smiled, a sad yet relieved looking gesture as he looked at the table full of his family, smiling faces around him, easy conversation flowing, no sight of derision or hatred he had seen just months ago that had broken his heart.

He raised his cup of wine with a shaking hand.

“A toast to my family.” He began with a hoarse voice. “To my daughter, Rhaenyra, who will make a fine Queen. And to my dear grandchild.”

She perked up at the sound of her name, seemingly growing bashful under the King’s eye.

“My beautiful darling and my dear son. May your union be fruitful and prosper with a love the realm has not yet seen.” Viserys toasted them with a warm smile. “My dear you will make a wonderful Queen after your mother. You will be a fair, peaceful ruler and a wonderful mother when the time comes.”

A bitter scoff echoed through the room, causing everyone to tense, their gazes searching over the faces of those present to find the culprit.

Her throat went dry, embarrassment washing over her as she noticed Ser Darick rolling his eyes. Beside her, Aemond stiffened, the murderous glare glinting in his eye once again. He gripped the arms of the chair he sat on, mere seconds away from getting to his feet to beat the guard into oblivion.

“Is there a problem, Ser?” The King questioned, looking at the guard incredulously.

Ser Darick didn’t even seem intimidated to have the attention of the most powerful man in Westeros. He seemed to preen under all their gazes, straightening his shoulders as if he were of importance.

“Apologies for my interruption, Your Grace.” The guard began, his sickly sweet smile never wavering as his eyes landed back on the culprit of his anger, the shaken girl who seemed to shrink under his harsh gaze.

Aemond clenched his jaw, his hand twitching, desperate to reach for the dagger at his hip.

“You are kind to dole out praises to a whore.”

Chaos erupted in a matter of seconds. Viserys’ face darkened and he struggled to get to his feet, his voice hoarse as he called for his guards to seize Ser Darick.

Daemon sprung to his feet, kicking his chair out of the way, his expression dark and full of hatred as he approached the dead man walking, swiftly pulling the sword from his hip.

But it was Aemond that acted quickest.

He ignored his wife’s warning as he got to his feet with agile precision, his steps heavy as he marched his way toward the guard. He pulled the dagger from his belt, his teeth grit as he stared the man down with nothing but pure hatred.

With a swift kick to Ser Darick's hand, Aemond disarmed him before he could pull his sword. Aemond gripped the front of his armor, dragging him forward harshly and swiftly plunged his dagger into the man’s neck without hesitation.

Gasps and screams sounded behind him at the violent display, but he paid no mind to it.

He watched with satisfaction as the man’s eyes went dull, the life leaving him slowly as he bled out, finally erasing the smug smile from his face.

He eased his grip, letting him drop to the floor.

He turned, coming face to face with Daemon, who had his sword drawn and at the ready. His uncle eyed the dead guard at their feet, with slight disdain for the mere fact that he hadn’t been the one to end his life, before slowly raising his gaze to him, staring at him for a long moment before nodding, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.

Aemond nodded back, a dark and twisted respect blooming between them in that moment.

He turned, ignoring the chaos that continued as his family watched on in horror and confusion, a mix of questions, admonishments him for his brashness, praises for his actions, but he heard none of it.

He stepped towards his trembling wife and quickly guided her into his arms, holding her tightly.

Her eyes were wide, shocked by the violent display, though she couldn’t deny the immediate relief that coursed through her.

“Thank you.” She whispered shakily.

Aemond pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his arms tightening around her, his silent promise to always protect her.

Hope you enjoy and sorry it's so long, I can't stop myself xx

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen fic #house of the dragon fic #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen smut

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tsuutarr · 2 months ago

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Could you make a yandere farmer?

(THIS CONCEPT...... YES!!! I immediately thought of a yandere!farmer that also so happens to be a cow/bull hybrid hehe there's just something about someone who seems so bright and cheerful and helpful but is actually yandere)

“Hey there, neighbor!”

The last thing you expected when you began moving into your new house in the countryside iss the bright greeting of your friendly bullboy neighbor, but you can’t say you’re displeased. You give him a response that makes his mouth stretch into a pretty smile.

“It’s great to meet ya! We don’t get many new folks ‘round here.” He looks at the boxes by your feet curiously. “Can I help ya?”

You try to reject his offer, but his movements are quick and powerful. Before you know it, he’s helping you haul your heavy boxes into your home with ease. His help makes the move go by so much faster that it really, really makes you grateful.

When you try to offer him something to drink as thanks, he waves it off with a warm laugh. “Don’t mention it, cutie,” he says, “I’m always happy to help a neighbor in need.” For a brief moment, he looks contemplative, before he shakes his head. “Yer welcome to reach out whenever ya need me.”

With that, he waves goodbye to you, leaving you with happy feelings and unaware of the small cameras and mics he’s hidden in your home.

Since then, he keeps helping you, giving you eggs and produce from his farm. Whenever you’re in trouble, he’s there immediately, too. When your tires got punctured, when your lights went out, when your pipes clogged – he was there. You’re filled with so much gratitude that you don’t notice that none of your troubles are naturally occurring.

One day, while he’s helping you fix your stove, he says, “By the way, there’ve been reports of some wild animals running amok ‘round here.”

You gulp. Wild animals? What kind? Rabbit? Deer? Or… bears? Something worse?

“Don’t ya worry ‘bout a thing,” he continues, gently patting the stovetop once he’s done fixing it. “You’ve got my number and I’ve got a mean aim.” With a small smile, he makes a gun motion with his hand. “So don’t be scared to call me, okay?”

You nod, though you still feel a little terrified.

That very night, you’re awakened by loud noises outside of your house. Fear clutches your heart and you wonder if you locked your doors and windows, but are too scared to check. With trembling lips, you pull your blanket tighter over yourself, pressing yourself into your bed as you take a quick glance outside your bedside window. A black figure with glowing eyes and horns looks back at you, making you scream.

Before you know it, you’re wrapped in strong, warm arms as a kind voice rumbles in your ear. “It’ll be okay, sugar,” your kind farmer neighbor coos. “I’ve got ya.”

Too caught up in the moment, you snuggle into him without questioning how he got into your house or how he was by your side so quickly. Nor do you recognize how eerily similar his horns look to the ones you saw on that black figure outside.

#yandere oc #male yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #tw yandere #monster boyfriend #tsuuper ocs #yandere farmer #cowboy oc #yandere imagines #he's so kind and so helpful by solving the problems he causes <3 #yeah he's the one who's been messing with darling's infrastructure so darling is forced to ask for help #Mason Cane Tsuu OC #Mason bc he's like a stone mason and good w/ building stuff #cane bc his nickname of choice is Sugarcube or Sugar for his darling hehe #Tsuuper OC

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lamiadrowned · 9 days ago

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Hellooo! those jinx dating headcanons were so cute, could you maybe expand on Silco meeting Jinx's partner? 🩷

*:･ﾟ✧ silco meeting jinx’s partner

jinx x fem!reader | sfw

this made me so happy to write, the flashback we got of younger silco is heavy on my mind :,) missing him

it would definitely be a lot less intimidating than you’d expect!

in the month or so that you’ve been with jinx, silco isn’t immediately distrusting of you since she talks often about how great you are. not only that, but he can see the difference you’ve made in her life and her mental state. how cheery she becomes when she talks about you. how big her smile gets when he asks about you.

however, it seems she’s a bit embarrassed at the idea of introducing him to you. so, being the protective father that he is, he takes the initiative.

one day, as you’re heading home from work, you quickly reach for the switchblade in your back pocket when you feel a hand on your shoulder behind you.

you turn around to see there’s a woman (who is considerably taller and buffer than you) standing there, clearly surprised to see a knife pointed at her. “my name is sevika, i’m here on behalf of silco. he wants to see you in his office before the day ends. is now a good time?”

thankfully, you recognize the name. jinx had talked about going on a few missions with her. you lower your knife and shrug. “uh… yeah. yeah, now’s fine. lead the way.”

she nods and proceeds to walk with you a few streets down to the building, offering some polite conversation and reassurance– this meeting is solely for the purpose of introducing himself to you, since his daughter won’t.

she takes you to the door of silco’s office, opening it for you and wishing you good luck.

you don’t immediately see silco, but you do hear his voice. “take a seat wherever you’d like.”

once sevika shuts the door behind you, you take a deep breath and follow his instructions; sitting down at his desk and watching his own chair spin around so that he can finally come face-to-face with you.

your anxiety is through the roof and your heart won’t slow down no matter how many deep breaths you take, but you’re able to muster a polite smile.

he sees right through it, though. of course. like father, like daughter. “you seem frightened. i apologize if sevika gave you a scare.“

“oh, no– she was really nice. it’s just… i wasn’t expecting a meeting with the kingpin of the underground today.” you joke.

he laughs, which makes you a bit more comfortable. “another apology is in order, then. i know this is sudden, but jinx… she gets so bashful at the idea of introducing us. i figured, why don’t i take the big leap?”

you nod. “yeah, of course. she talks very highly of you.”

“and you, as well. she talks my ear off, a million words a minute if she finds a way to bring you up.” silco shakes his head with a growing smile. “it’s impressive, how quickly she’s become smitten with you. i’d think you were a sorceress if i didn’t know any better.”

you’re flattered by his kind words, and a bit excited by the fact that she seemingly talks about you so much. you must be doing something right.

the two of you continue on as you answer all of the questions he asks about your upbringing and your current life, and you ask questions about his. it almost begins to feel like you’re talking to an old friend, not the most feared and influential man in the lanes.

however, at one point, he suddenly becomes very serious.

“now, i feel this is an appropriate time to tell you this. you seem to be a genuinely good person, which is all too rare these days.” silco sighs. then, he clasps his hands together and casually leans forward onto the desk, resting his chin on his fists. “with that being said, if i ever come to find out that you have made my daughter suffer in any way, and you will never know peace again. do i make myself clear?”

your eyes widen. you’re finally starting to see why the entire population of zaun is scared witless by him. “understood. it will never come to that, though. i can only hope you take my word for it.”

silco nods in approval of your answer. he’s very impressed by your ability to remain calm in the face of his intimidation. it only proves to him that you’re as good as you seem, and that your intentions are pure– you have nothing to hide.

after a brief silence, he opens his mouth to speak again, but he’s interrupted by the sound of his office door slamming open.

“she’s missing!”

you’re shocked to hear jinx. she sounds frantic, voice hoarse and pitchy, like she can’t contain her terror. “i checked everywhere, high and low! we need to send one of your goons to–”

she’s silenced when she sees you turn around in your chair and meet her glare. her look of horror turns into one of confusion. “what the hell is going on here? is this an intervention?”

you snort at her question, patting the chair next to you, inviting her to come sit down. her shoulders slump and she lets out a dramatic huff as she sulks over to sit beside you. her arms cross defensively. “i don’t know what you weirdos think i did, but those fireworks going off last night were not mine, and to be frank, it’s kind of offensive that you’d assume i–”

“jinx, if you don’t mind,” silco puts a hand up, imploring her to stop talking. “we’ll talk about those fireworks later.”

“what?! i just said they weren’t mine.” jinx scoffs.

“you ramble when you lie. don’t you think i’d know that by now?” silco sighs. “that’s beside the point. since you had no plans to introduce me to y/n, i decided to introduce myself.”

you hum in confirmation. “that’s all. no intervention.”

it takes jinx a long moment to process this information; it seems as if she forgot silco has eyes everywhere, and when he wants something done, it will be done.

you’re almost expecting her to be upset before a beaming smile replaces the scowl on her face. “un-fuckin’-believable! i’m searching all over zaun for you, while you’re here, kicking back with him?!” she points in his direction.

“precisely.” silco steps in for you, aware that this is one of those times where she is very happy, yet tries to pretend that she is very upset. “if it’s of any reassurance to you– to both of you– this relationship has my badge of approval.”

instantly, you feel a sense of pride in knowing that you’d made such a good impression on him. he’s a man that’s very hard to impress, as far as you’ve heard.

you reach for jinx’s hand and squeeze it. her smile is almost as big as yours now. “look at that. i aced the big interview, and i haven’t gone missing.“

#arcane #arcane x reader #jinx #arcane jinx #jinx x reader #arcane silco #silco #silco and jinx

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these-lovely-monsters · 2 months ago

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Tentacles Under The Bed - Part 4

[NSFW | 18+]

Characters: gn!tentacle monster x f!reader

Content: tentacles, eldritch monster, blow job, deep throating

A/N: If you were missing the tentacle smut in part 3, don't worry, I got you :)

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

⋆ ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ⋆

Smiling faintly, you give Karl another kiss, lingering a bit longer this time. After a moment, you feel its mouth part and something soft and wet strokes against your lips. Realizing that it's Karl’s tongue, you open for it. It immediately dives in, curling and twisting around your own tongue.

You groan softly at the sensation and return its strokes with licks of your own. Even though you can’t get too close to Karl’s mouth for fear of its razor sharp teeth, you’re perfectly happy with this alternative version of a kiss.

Deciding to be a little bold, you wrap your lips around Karl’s tongue and suck gently. Suddenly, a melodic humming sound fills the room and it takes you a moment to realize that the noise is coming from Karl. This must be its sound of pleasure and it’s strangely beautiful.

Pulling back to catch your breath, you place your hand on Karl to keep it from chasing your mouth. You’re surprised to find that its surface is spongy and soft but solid. Not at all what you expected from its goo-like appearance.

“No. Give me more, my little delicacy.” Karl protests.

Laughing, you reply, “I guess you like that, huh? We can do more of that soon but I…” You fidget with your hands, unsure how to ask for what you want. “I want to touch you. To…make you feel good like you did for me.”

Karl perks up at that. “You want to touch me?”

“Yeah, if that’s alright with you?”

Without replying, Karl leans back and you watch as a vertical slit opens in the lower middle portion of its body. A new, lighter colored tentacle emerges from the gap and sways in the air in front of you. In addition to the color, this tentacle is different from the others. It’s smaller and thinner than the rest and it has no suckers lining it. The end is also slightly enlarged in a club shape rather than a tapered point.

It almost reminds you of one of the fantasy dildos you’ve been wanting to buy online and you blush again. At the thought, you realize that you’re not actually sure what gender Karl is so you ask awkwardly, “Karl, is that a—is this your…?”

“This is how we transfer sperm to another for procreation—a penis as you would call it. But each of our kind has both reproductive organs.” It says as it waves its new tentacle in the air.

"Oh, I mean—then what are your pronouns?"

“My species does not have the concept of gender. Whatever you would like to call me is fine.”

“Ok so is ‘they/them’ alright?”

“Ye—yes” Karl stutters out as you reach down and stroke a finger along their cock, finding it slick and moist. You wrap your hand around their length and pump up and down once. The humming sound fills the room again and you smile at their obvious pleasure.

For a few minutes, you continue to stroke their cock, squeezing harder and increasing your pace. Using your other hand, you reach down and tease your fingers along the slit around the base of their cock. They shudder in response and the humming increases in volume.

Wanting to give them even more, and maybe selfishly wanting a taste for yourself, you drop down to your knees on the soft plush carpet.

“What are you—” They don’t manage to get anything else out as you tentatively lick at the club-shaped tip. The slick substance coating their cock is sweet and creamy, almost like vanilla frosting. The humming stutters at the action and you do it again, surprised but delighted at the odd flavor. Noticing a small slit on the tip, you probe it with your tongue and the hum deepens.

As you lick and suck at the tip, you continue to stroke and tease the rest of their cock with your hands. When a clear glittering substance begins to well in the slit, you lap it up eagerly, the taste of vanilla bursting on your tongue. You moan in pleasure at the deliciously sweet flavor and dive back in for more.

Eventually, once you’ve become more comfortable with this new cock, you open your mouth and take it as far in as it will go. Hollowing your cheeks, you suck hard as you bob your head up and down while swirling your tongue along the underside.

“Yes,” Karl’s voice echoes in your mind, more guttural now. “Let me have more.”

Before you can ask what they mean, a tentacle wraps around the back of your head as they hold you in place while their cock slides down into your throat. You gag at the intrusion, wanting to pull away, but a part of you loves that they’re taking control like this. You brace your hands on their soft body for support and try to relax, letting them have their way with you.

They pull out again, allowing you to breathe for a moment before shoving back in even deeper this time. As they fuck your mouth, going deeper with each thrust, another tentacle wraps around your neck. They don’t squeeze though and you realize that they’re feeling the bulge of their cock as it slides in and out.

Wetness is dripping between your thighs at being used as a fuck toy for this giant tentacle monster and you squirm, trying to find some relief. But you’re determined to give Karl their pleasure this time so you just squeeze your thighs together and enjoy the erotic scene.

Tears are streaming down your face from fighting the gags wanting to climb up your throat and snot is pouring from your nose. You probably look like a mess but you don’t care as long as Karl doesn’t stop. Noticing the wetness on your face, they reach up with a tentacle and gently rub at the moisture on your skin. Another tentacle reaches up and traces the edge of your lips which are stretched wide around its cock.

“I do not want to see you cry but I love the taste of your tears.”

Moaning at their words, you swallow convulsively. The humming noise intensifies with a new, much deeper, thrumming sound that harmonizes with the melodic notes. When you feel Karl’s cock begin to swell, the sounds filling the room speed up and you think they might be close.

Within a few moments, their thrusting becomes jerky until they stop fully, holding their cock deep inside your throat. It suddenly starts undulating and you feel a thick, cool substance sliding down your esophagus and filling your stomach. It feels as if it goes on forever until finally the humming subsides and Karl gently eases themself from inside you.

Slumping back, you cough and wipe at your wet cheeks. Your throat is raw and your underwear is completely soaked but you’re entirely satisfied at getting to do something for Karl this time.

They reach out tentatively to stroke your neck and ask softly, “Did I hurt you?”

Smiling, you place a hand on their tentacle and squeeze gently. “No, I liked that a lot. Was it…ok for you?”

“Yes my sweet. It was the most exquisite thing I have ever experienced aside from watching you come apart on my tentacles.”

⋆ ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ⋆

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

taglist: @blushycadaver @pearlofrose @gothicsugarslvt

#monster fucker #monster lover #monster smut #terato #monster x human #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #these lovely monsters #tentacles #tlm tentacles #monster girlfriend #tlm stories #f!reader #gn!monster #eldritch

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bluejutdae · 9 months ago

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• best friend Stray Kids saving you (or being saved by you) from a bad date | Felix x you

genre: romance, best friend to lovers

warnings: none, except that i am not satisfied at all with this but I’ve read it so many times I’m starting to hate it. I might edit heavily later

The moment you park outside the restaurant Lixie is in, you press the call button. Faking an emergency is not too hard, you talk about a friend getting injured and at the hospital, exaggerating your tone and almost making Felix laugh.

He’s out in less than five minutes. Under his bright smile there’s something you can’t decipher. He gets in your car and just his presence makes you happy. Everyone loves Felix, and you’re not immune to his charm either. He’s always kind, generous, sweet and funny. You’re really lucky to have him in your life.

“Ice cream?”

“Yes, please.” It’s so funny to hear his deep voice in such a childish tone.

You don’t press for answers about his date during the drive to your favorite ice cream place, you put on some music and sing loudly with him. Save for that indecipherable look in his eyes, he seems pretty normal.

You take your ice creams and decide to take a walk on the riverside. The wind is pretty chill, but neither of you mind too much. It’s him who brings up the date he was on.

“The date… it was like a blind date. But I didn’t know it was a date until it was too late.”

“Uh- what?” It doesn’t make sense: how did he manage to go on a date without knowing?

“Hannie.” Yeah, maybe it makes sense. Jisung means well, but most of the time the execution is, at best, messy.

“How did he get you?”

“He begged me to go on a double date on the premise it was just because this girl he wanted to go out with was wary of going out alone with him so she’d bring a friend with, but we were supposed to be just wingmen. Or so he told me.”

He licks his ice cream and shakes his head.

“About 10 minutes before we were supposed to meet he called and told me it was a lie and it was a blind date…”

You’re not sure as to what to say. It is very on brand for Jisung, but you can also understand how frustrating it can be for Felix. He’s a sweetheart, he must have felt guilty for having unwillingly misled the girl.

“I couldn’t just leave and stand her up. She knew nothing about the lie, so it wasn't her fault.”

“Was she nice, at least?”

He nods, but he seems almost distracted. “She was nice. Pretty and funny, to be honest.”

“Why didn’t you stay, then?”

He slows down to a stop, and the moment you notice you turn around to look at him, a question on your face. He cleans his mouth with the small napkin and exhales with a small grimace.

“Lix?”

“Because I like you. And I’m not interested in other girls.”

He likes you. Felix likes you. And not in a friendly way. In a like like way. You weren’t expecting that.

“I-“ you start, but you don’t know how to continue that sentence. What do you say to your best friend who just said he likes you? Do you even like him? You’ve always been pretty good at keeping your feelings in check, so after knowing him, when it was clear you were headed towards just being friends, that’s what you set your mind -and your heart- to. He’s your friend, and you didn’t even ever consider more.

“I’m sorry. I’ve kept it from you for a while but I couldn’t anymore. That’s why Jisung insisted on this date. He was trying to distract me.” He turns slightly to watch at the river flowing fast but quietly. “Things don't have to change. If you don’t feel the same it’s okay, but I’d like to stay friends if you’re okay with that. I don’t wanna lose you.”

The idea of Felix losing you is ridiculous to you, nothing is ever gonna make you distance yourself from him. You try to tell him so by hugging him. “Lixie, we’ll always be friends, no matter what.”

You speak into his jacket, and maybe it’s easier this way.

“I thought we were only meant to be friends, so I didn’t even consider looking at you in a different way.” You can feel him tense under your hug. “Wait, wait, listen to me please.” Still hugging him you try to look at him, a smile on your lips. He’s your best friend, he’s the best person you’ve ever met. Being liked by him is an honor, and if you think about it, trying to be something more it’s not something that you hate.

“You’re my best friend, Lix. You know I love you, and I think you’re perfect. I never let myself think about you like that, but I know that if I give it a chance, it’d be so easy to fall in love with you romantically.”

“You don’t have to make yourself like me.”

“Don’t be silly. I’d be lucky to love you. Give me a chance?”

He’s smiling now, and he’s so so pretty like this. He’s always pretty, you tell him constantly, but when he smiles it’s his best look.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure Lixie. Let me take you out on a date? I promise to spoil you…”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you out?”

“It’s okay. You can ask next time.” You kiss him on his cheek and hold his hand, making him resume your stroll.

He really is easy to love, and not even a month later you ask yourself how you ever managed not to be head over heels in love with your best friend boyfriend.

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #bluejutdae #skz #felix x you #felix x reader #felix x female reader #felix fluff #felix fanfic #felix imagines #felix scenarios #Thiana writes Felix

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msmk11 · 4 months ago

Text

Best Friend's Mom Part Three

MILF!Wanda Maximoff x college age!fem!reader (Billy and Tommy's best friend)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part Four

Word count: 5.2k

CW: Age gap (legal), best friends' mom, MILF!Wanda, fluff, consumption of alcohol, mentions of food, mentions of vomiting, drunk!reader, poor decision making while drunk, hangover, angst

Summary: You finally admitted to yourself that you have feelings for Wanda. And you are not handling it well. This leads to you making some rather poor decisions, and you've yet to realize the extent of the consequences.

A/n: Part three finally here! Sorry for the wait, my life has been a shitshow lol. Happy reading loves!

You wake to soft kisses peppering your skin and the smell of Wanda’s sweet perfume. Your naked bodies are flush against each other, so much so that her long, red hair falls partly over your bare shoulder. When she senses your stirring, she leans over you and places a delicate kiss to your lips.

“Good morning, baby,” she whispers, her voice still thick with sleep.

“Morning, Wanda,” you barely mumble out, not quite awake yet.

She places a kiss on your neck and nips it a little, causing you to gasp.

“No, Wanda, not yet,” you groan, “s’too early.”

Her kisses only continue, tracing back up your neck to a soft spot behind your ear that she knows you go crazy for.

“Come on, Detka, let me have a little fun,” the redhead muses seductively, “you can just lay there, all pretty and perfect, while I take care of you.”

She slowly starts to caress your skin, and with the added effect of the burning kisses up and down your body, you turn to putty beneath her. Suddenly, Wanda flips you on your back and climbs on top of you, straddling your waist. She cups your cheek and gives you a deep, meaningful kiss. One that you’re rather enjoying, too, until your brain reminds you that this sort of kiss is much too tender for a spring break fling.

“Wanda, wait,” you hesitate, pushing her away a little.

She looks at you, a little concern peeking through her lustful eyes, “What is it, Detka? Is something wrong?”

“I, I need to tell you something first. I won’t feel right otherwise.”

Wanda, sadly, climbs off your lap and sits back against the headboard. She guides you to a similar position and then places her hand on your thigh.

“Wanda….” you pause, “I don’t think I can keep doing this. Sleeping together, I mean.”

Her eyes narrow a little in confusion and she lets out a disbelieving snort, “What? What do you mean? Why? I thought we were both enjoying this.”

“Well, yes, I am. I was. But things have…. gotten too complicated for me.”

Wanda doesn’t respond. Instead, she stares down at her hand on your bare thigh.

“You mean-”

“Wanda, I have feelings for you,” you interrupt.

She quickly pulls her hand away from your thigh, like you’ve burned her. She scrambles off the bed and picks up your shirt off the floor, throwing it to you. She then slips on her own.

“Wanda, what are you doing?”

“Put your shirt on,” she orders, pointing to the discarded item in your lap.

You do as she says and then wait- for her to say something, anything.

“Wanda-”

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” she tells you harshly, “This was meant to be a meaningless fling. Don’t you understand that?”

Heat grows in your cheeks and shame in your stomach, “I know, Wanda, believe me, I didn’t mean for this to happen. But you’re just so pretty, and smart, and- I caught feelings for you.”

Wanda scoffs and crosses her arms, looking away, “I should’ve known to avoid someone like you.”

“Someone, like me?” You whisper.

“Yes, someone too stupid and immature to handle anything casual. It’s embarrassing, really.”

Hot tears sting your eyes and your stomach aches. “Wanda, what are you saying? This isn’t like you. I didn’t expect you to return my feelings, but I thought you’d be at least kind.”

She laughs coldly, a sound you never thought you’d hear coming from her, “You think you know me? Because we slept together? Baby, you know nothing about me. You’re just someone I fucked.”

Those last words echo in your ears over and over…

You’re just someone I fucked.

Someone I fucked.

You jolt awake, your breathing hard and fast, and your face is wet with tears. You panic for a moment, not entirely sure where you are. Your heart slows a little when you look around and realize that you’re just in Wanda’s room, the woman in question sleeping peacefully beside you.

It had all been a dream.

A horrible, horrible dream.

You’re still shaking, and you know there’s no chance of you falling back asleep. Even though it’s still early, you quietly get out of bed and sweep your discarded clothes up off the floor. You dart from the room across the hall into your own and close the door, breathing heavily. You need to get out of this house. Away from Wanda and her temptations and your fears. You throw on a hoodie and shorts and traipse out to the living room. Your flip flops still lay in a heap by the glass door, so you slip them on and head outside. It’s nice, the beach being only a few steps away from the house. You kick off your shoes and let yourself feel the sand in between your toes. It’s soft but also gritty and grounds you in reality- far away from the nightmare of only a few minutes ago.

You know it isn’t real, but it feels like it- from every touch of her skin on yours to the pain in your heart as she scoffed at you and mocked you. You had dreamt of the worst possible scenario, and it left you rattled to your core.

You try to push it all from your thoughts, letting the crashing waves drown them out and the slowly rising sun distract you. The cotton candy skies and its reflection on the shimmering ocean make you feel as though you’re in a fairytale, where nothing evil or bad can hurt you.

You imagine that in this fairytale world you could be with Wanda. There’d be no college to worry about, the twins wouldn’t feel upset or betrayed, and you could go back to being in that little cottage you’d daydreamed about not that long ago. You suppose to an extent, this dream could be a reality. Yet you have never been an optimist.

What you and Wanda have is special, no doubt. But it is also fleeting, a one time thing, and you doubt you’d be in such close proximity to her ever again. When you left this beach house you’d go back to school, finish your semester, and graduate. She’d go back off to her own life- one that she’s happily settled into- just as you would be about to start your own. Though you could make room for her in yours, Wanda’s life had turned out pretty nice. Pretty close to perfect. And who were you to take that all away?

You decide that you have to get over your silly little crush. What at first seems impossible becomes less so as you think about it. You reckon that once you leave this house, you’ll rarely see Wanda besides at graduation, an occasional visit to see the twins, and maybe the twins’ weddings.

Still, you’d rather be safe than sorry.

*****

At a reasonable hour, you bound back into the house with a pep in your step and a plan in your mind. It’s still early enough that Wanda isn’t out in the kitchen, but not late enough for you to feel bad for what you’re about to do. You make your way down the hall opposite of your room to the master bedroom. Though you quietly open the door, nothing else you do is as subtle. Billy and Tommy, both of whom are big guys, look a little funny all squished together in one bed. You give yourself a running start and leap onto the bed, arms and legs sprawled as you land on top of them. They wake with resounding grimaces, umphs, and quite a bit of cursing.

Tommy shoves your arm roughly, “what the fuck are you doing?”

“Just missed you,” you pout, sticking out your upper lip.

Billy grabs the pillow from under his head and smacks you in the face, “you’re such a pest, you know that? Couldn’t you have bothered us in like,” he checks the clock, “two hours?”

“No,” you huff, “that’s too far away. Anyhow, you should be glad I didn’t wake you up earlier.”

Tommy rolls over to look at you, “Earlier? How long have you been awake?”

You shrug nonchalantly, “Eh, three, four hours?”

“Jesus,” Billy groans, “what’s wrong with you?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“So why’d you have to wake us up?”

“Don’t be such a party pooper,” you tsk, “And anyways, you guys should be thanking me for the great idea I’m about to share.”

Tommy flops down onto his back, “What is it?”

“We….. should go out tonight!” You exclaim.

You are met with unimpressed silence.

“That was the most brilliant idea you just had to wake us up for?” Billy asks you with a sigh.

“Well yes. I mean, it seemed like you two losers had no intention of going out at all on this trip, and I’m pretty sure that would ruin your reputation,” you answer thoughtfully, “so I’m saving you.”

“Fine, fine. We’ll go out,” Tommy tells you. And though he sounds annoyed, you know it's all an act- the smirk in his voice giving him away.

*****

At this point, you’ve lost track of the number of drinks you’ve had as you down a shot of-

Well you can’t remember, but you don’t really care because it gets the job done. Any burning in your throat goes unnoticed at this point in the night, and you cheer loudly as you slam the glass back down onto the bar.

Tommy and Billy cheer along with you as they too finish their shots.

“Let’s go dance,” Billy shouts over the music.

Both of them being taller than you, they sandwich you in the middle, each with a hand on your shoulder so they don’t lose you in the crowd. It’s hot and sticky, the place is crowded with bodies, and the loud music blaring through the speakers is shit, but you’ve never felt better.

“I’m so glad we decided to go out,” you yell.

Tommy bends nearer to your mouth, “WHAT?”

“I said, I’m so glad we decided to go out,” you repeat. Then, you stumble, having been shoved by some stupid person behind you.

Tommy catches you by the arms and then moves you, putting himself in between the stranger and you. You, really, don’t even notice, and keep swaying along to the music happily. The base vibrates in your chest and skull. That, combined with all the booze in your body, has made you forget- whatever it is you’re supposed to forget tonight.

Something about Wanda, maybe?

Wanda.

You shake your head, clearing away any hazy thoughts about the redhead, and reach into your back pocket. You pull out a shooter that you had stored away for a special occasion, and now feels like the right moment. It's banana flavored- your least favorite- but you know it will do the job. You unscrew the cap, tossing it on the floor somewhere, and then throw your head back, barely letting it touch your tongue as you swallow. You discard the bottle then too, and enjoy the warmth that spreads down to your toes.

“How many have you had tonight?” Billy calls out to you.

You shrug shoulders unseriously and giggle, “I don’t know, but I feel realllllllyyyyy good right now.”

“Well, let’s not have any more tonight, okay?” He replies.

You cross your arms and pout at him, “You’re not my dad, Billy. I can do whatever I want.”

“If you can get through a whole sentence without slurring your words, you can do whatever you want,” he retorts.

“Easy peasy,” you reply, throwing your hand to the side. “See, I just did it right now.”

You in fact, did not. Not that you’d ever know. You hadn’t just slurred your words, you’d also mixed them up, spitting out some phrase that really didn’t make sense.

But the twins know they won’t be able to prove that to you, so instead, they distract you.

“See any pretty girls here tonight?” Tommy asks you casually.

You nod lazily and laugh, “Oh, yes. There was this one girl by the bathroom door that looked really good in her skirt,” you slur, “I would totally go for her. But I can’t because I-”

Even your drunk brain is conscious enough to stop yourself from saying what you were about to: “because I have feelings for Wanda.”

Instead, drunk you does the best you can, and you slap your hands dramatically over your mouth.

“Oops,” you say, giggling.

Tommy smirks at you a little and laughs, “What were you going to say.”

You wag your finger at him and shake your head, “Nuh-uh. Can’t tell, it’s a secret.”

You giggle again.

“Oh, come on,” Billy prods, poking your side, “we’re your best friendssss.”

You shriek and move away, bumping into someone behind you. You don’t realize it, so Tommy apologizes on your behalf and rests a hand on your back.

“This,” you say, hiccuping, “is a secret I will take to my grave. Scout’s honor.”

“You’re not a scout,” Billy reminds you, trying to suppress his smile.

You scoff and roll your eyes at him, though no one can take you very seriously, “It’s a saying, Billy, DUHHHHHH.”

He raises his hands in mock defense, “Right, right, my bad.”

“You sure you can’t tell us?” Tommy asks pleadingly.

You shake your head again and mimic zipping your lips, tossing away the key.

Before he can try to persuade you again you suddenly shout, “let’s go get another drink!”

You take off towards the bar and, surprisingly, for being smaller than both of them, you’re really fast.

*****

You feel like you’re on death’s doorstep.

The light that filters in through your blinds burns your eyes, your mouth feels like cotton, and your head feels as though there are a million tiny people smashing hammers into your skull. Every bone in your body feels like lead and your stomach muscles scream as you try to sit up. When you do, your head spins and you think for a second that you’re going to throw up.

Last night was a blur, and you’re not totally sure how you got back to your bed, in your pajamas, with a trash can at the foot, and a glass of water on the nightstand. Through your blurry vision you also notice two tiny pills beside the water and a note.

Take these. It’ll help.

Wanda

So that’s how. Wanda had taken care of you. But how much had she taken care of you? The last thing you remember is leaving with the boys, and then- nothing.

You achieved what you wanted- to forget for a while- but the toll on your body is making you wonder if it was a good choice in the first place.

You reach out and grab the pills off the nightstand, popping them into your mouth and then taking a sip of the water. You finish the rest of your glass with slow, tiny sips, your stomach unable to handle anything more.

When you finish your water, you quite literally drag yourself out of bed and into the bathroom. Luckily, there are no windows in there, and with the lights off, you’re emerged in blissful darkness. After you relieve yourself, you stumble into an icy cold shower and quickly wash the grime from last night’s ventures off your body. It’s the quickest shower you’ve ever taken, and when you’re done your teeth are chattering, the small towel doing little to keep you warm. Still, you feel just a little better, so the sacrifice was worth it.

Back in the room you don sweats and then crawl around on the floor looking for your sunglasses. Relief washes over you when you find them and put them on, the searing rays diminishing in severity. Even if you feel better, you know that you look like a wreck. And even if you didn’t look like a wreck, everyone in the house knows that you are. So the shame is present nonetheless as you trudge down the hall into the kitchen.

The boys look in much better shape than you, if not still a little worn out, and are sitting at the table eating breakfast. The scene is unusually quiet as Tommy shoves toast into his mouth while scrolling on his phone, and Wanda and Billy chat quietly over their coffee. When you walk in they all look up at you, worry crossing their features.

“Hey kid, how are you feeling?” Billy asks quietly.

You grimace a little and plop down in the seat next to him, giving him a thumbs down.

“Not surprised. You went a little crazy last night,” Tommy tells you.

“I don’t really remember anything,” you admit, “but I can piece together enough by the way I’m feeling right now.”

“By the end of the night, you could barely walk, nothing you were saying made sense, and you threw up in some bushes on the way home,” he says, worry evident in his tone.

You rub your hands across your face, “oh shit. I didn’t realize it had gotten that bad. I’m sorry.”

Billy places a comforting hand on your shoulder, “It’s okay, it happens sometimes. And anyways, all that matters is we got you back here safe.”

“And mom insisted on taking care of you last night, so I’m sure you’ll be back to better in no time,” Tommy adds reassuringly.

You look up at Wanda and give her the smallest of smiles, “Thank you, Wanda.”

Though she smiles back at you, it doesn’t meet her eyes, and you know instantly that something is wrong.

“Of course, honey. Now have something to eat.”

She pushes a plate of dry toast towards you and your stomach twists a little.

“I- I don’t think I can.”

“You have to, honey,” the redhead replies, a slight scolding tone to her voice.

You pick up a piece with shaking hands and take the tiniest of bites. You chew for what feels like forever and the bread scrapes your throat as you swallow.

Wanda waits until you finish a whole piece of toast and then she stands, “I’m going to go get dressed.”

Your eyes follow her down the hall, and she doesn’t look back at you once. Your stomach turns again, and you’re not sure if it’s from anxiety or your hangover this time.

You’re lost in a trance, staring into the void down the hall when Billy clears his throat. You turn and look at him. Both of your friends have matching serious expressions.

“Okay, now that my mom is gone I feel comfortable asking, what the fuck happened?”

“Well you know better than me-“ you mumble.

“That’s not what we mean,” Tommy interrupts, “you’ve never gotten that drunk in your life. You always have self-control. So what the fuck changed?”

“Is something going on?”

“Because if there is, you know you can tell us, right?”

“I mean I was so worried about you by the end of the night.”

“We both were. Mom too.”

“She insisted she be the one to watch you in case something happened.”

“And-“

The twins are spitting information at you so fast that your head starts to swim. You can barely process what one has said before the other starts again.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you say, putting your hands up, “slow down, please. When you guys talk like this, I can barely understand you sober, let alone hungover.”

Billy huffs, “sorry, sorry.”

“We’re just worried about you,” Tommy tells you.

You sigh and reach out, grabbing both of their hands, “I know, I know. I’m sorry. And I thank you both for looking after me. But seriously, I’m okay. I just… went a little too crazy last night. Spring break curse or something…”

Tommy squeezes your hand, “Are you sure? Because you seemed a little off all of yesterday.”

Yesterday…. You had been off. But you thought no one had noticed.

“Just thrown off with the new schedule this week,” you lied.

Billy hums suspiciously and kisses the side of your head, “well if there is anything you want to talk about, please tell us, okay?”

You smile at them and roll your eyes- not that they can see it with your sunglasses on- “yeah, yeah, okay.”

They stand and tell you that they’re going to go get ready.

As they leave Tommy points to your plate, “And finish your toast, goddamnit!”

*****

You stand outside Wanda’s door for far longer than you’d like to admit. Finally, you knock softly and you hear a faint, “come in.”

Wanda is by her vanity, putting on her jewelry when you slowly crack open the door.

“Uh hey, Wanda, sorry to bother you, I just, wanted to thank you for taking care of me last night.”

She clasps her necklace into place before turning to you, “It was no problem, honey. I just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

You hesitate a little and sit down on the edge of her bed. She turns back to grab her earrings, and though her back is facing you, she is looking at you through the mirror.

“I also uh, wanted to ask if you were okay. You just seemed a little…. upset…. this morning and I’m worried.”

“Hmmm? Me? Upset?” She asks, distractedly, “no, no. I’m just tired is all. Staying up all night to take care of someone will do that to you.”

“Yeah, right, sorry,” you mutter quietly.

Wanda is silent and you feel a palpable tension in the air. But not a good kind.

She slides on a few bracelets and then turns back around to face you, leaning back against the light wood furniture, “Anything else?”

You shake your head a little too vigorously and stand up, heading towards the door. Your stomach is all in knots, and you wonder what could’ve possibly happened for things to feel this wrong all of a sudden. Had something happened when you were drunk?

“You know,” Wanda suddenly says, and you stop, hand on the doorknob.

“It really shouldn’t be you who is worried about me.”

You turn around and look at her. She’s maintained the same nonchalant pose, but her face is much more serious.

“What do you mean?”

“Well I’m not the one who was drunk out of their mind last night. It’s really me that should be worried about you.”

You walk back over to the bed and sit down, “Why? Wanda, it was a mistake. A one night thing where I got a little too crazy. It happens to the best of us.”

Wanda walks closer to you, close enough that she sort of towers over you, “Detka, you were blackout drunk. You were puking your guts out all night, you couldn’t stand, and you were rambling about a bunch of things that didn’t really make sense. It just didn’t seem like the type of thing that you’d do.”

You look down at your hands in your lap and pick at your fingernails, unsure what to say next.

“I mean, I know I haven’t known you very long,” Wanda says as she sits down next to, “but deep in my core I just know something is off. That you’re hiding something. You can tell me, you know.”

In this moment, you’re ready to spill your guts to her. She just smells so good, and her voice is so gentle, and she’s sitting so close to you, you’re pretty sure you’d do whatever she asks.

Instead you say, “I don’t know, I think you know me pretty well.”

You can tell it’s not the answer she’s expecting by the confusion that clouds her face, “what do you mean?”

You try to hold back a smirk, “well, you know my body pretty intimately at least, wouldn’t you agree?”

Wanda lets out a disbelieving giggle and your stomach erupts in butterflies, “you are something else, Detka. Here we are trying to have a serious conversation, and you go off making lewd innuendos.”

You shrug casually and look at her. Her eyes are teeming with amusement and you’d do anything to have her looking at you like that all the time.

“Am I wrong?”

She scoffs and squeezes your thigh playfully, “cocky, Detka. Maybe I don’t know you so much after all.”

“I’m full of secrets.”

“Well that I know,” Wanda says more seriously as she cups your face, “and it’s those secrets I’m trying to get out of you.”

She’s so close to you now and you want to kiss her so badly. But you don’t.

“It’s no fun if I give all my secrets away. What would I have then?”

“Trust.”

“Wanda,” you sigh, “I already trust you.”

Her thumb rubs soothing circles on the side of your face, “then why don’t you just tell me?”

You can’t help but lean into her touch.

“It’s complicated.”

“I’m a divorcée and single mother with twin, adult sons who happen to have a very pretty friend that I slept with. I know complicated.”

“I- I don’t know, Wanda.”

-Wanda's POV-

Wanda is aware that this game of cat and mouse she’s playing with you is pointless because she already knows your secret.

She just wants you to confess it.

Sober.

(flashback)

She hadn't been lying when she'd said that you were very drunk last night.

After you and the boys had told her you were going out, she decided to wait up until you all had arrived home safely. Though you were all grown adults, she still couldn’t help but worry.

So Wanda waited up for you three on the couch in the living room, dozing in and out of consciousness as old tv programs hummed on in the background. Around two a.m., Wanda woke to not-so-quiet thuds and cursing. She found you all at the front door, the boys on either side of you, your arms flung across each of their shoulders. Tommy was crouched down trying to take your shoes off, but your knees were bent at such an awkward angle, so much so that you weren’t even standing, that he was failing miserably.

Billy looked over at the sound of Wanda’s footsteps and cringed, “sorry mom, did we wake you?”

“No, moya lubov,” she answered with a quick wave of her hand, “I waited up for you, just in case.”

“Thanks mom,” Tommy said, grunting through the effort of trying to keep you up. “You can go to sleep now though, we’re back home safe and okay.”

Wanda eyed you warily, “she doesn’t look all that okay. What happened?”

Billy shook his head just as confused as Wanda, “I don’t know. She just got really drunk. I swear we were watching her but somehow, she still got this bad.”

“Not- drunk,” you mumbled under your breath.

They all ignored you.

“Why don’t you let me take it from here, boys. You two go get your rest,” Wanda said quietly.

“Mom, no, she’s our friend. We’ll watch her. Anyways, you need your sleep,” Tommy insisted.

Wanda cupped his cheek and pecked his forehead before doing the same to Billy.

“I really don’t mind, boys. And anyways, it’s better if I watch over her. I’m sober, so if something happens, I can take care of it.”

When Wanda put her mind to something, there was no point in arguing with her. The boys knew this, so they resigned, carefully handing you off to their mother.

“Goodnight, mom,” they said in unison, trudging off down the hall.

With you in her arms, she guided you down the hall, carrying your weight like it was nothing (it isn’t to her hehe). She took you down to the bathroom and sat you on the cold, tile floor. She slid down next to you and made sure you were propped up against the wall comfortably. Your eyes were glossy, and your head lolled to the side on your shoulder.

“Had fun tonight?” Wanda asked you.

You murmured out what she assumed was a yes.

“Maybe a little too much fun from the looks of it,” she added.

You didn’t seem to hear her, and only giggled.

Wanda looked at you with a small smirk, “what’s so funny?”

“You’re so pretty, Wanda,” you said, sighing.

“Thank you, honey. You’re pretty too.”

You sighed exasperatedly, like Wanda was missing some important point.

“No, you don’t get it. You’re like reallyyyyyyyyy pretty.”

Wanda blushed a little, and she was glad you were too drunk to notice.

“So what happened tonight?” She asked, “why did you get so drunk?”

You shrugged your shoulders and giggled, “I don’t know. I wasn’t drunk, and then I was.”

“But this all seems like a bit much, honey.”

You didn’t respond, so she leaned forward and tucked a stray hair out of your face. This got your attention.

Wanda repeated herself, “why did you get so drunk?”

This time, you did respond. But it was a bunch of mumbles.

“What did you say?” She prodded gently.

You huffed, and Wanda didn’t miss the way your cheeks flushed.

“Feelings.”

“Feelings?” Wanda repeated, “what do you mean?”

You groaned and slumped forward, resting your head on your knees.

“I was feeling feelings.”

Wanda reached out and tapped your shoulder, “can you sit up for me? I can’t understand you when you sit like that.”

You obliged and shuffled forward, resting your arms on the toilet seat and your head on your arms.

“This better?” You slurred.

“Yes, thank you, honey,” she answered kindly.

“You want to tell me about what feelings you were feeling?”

Though your head stayed resting on your arms, you shook it vigorously, and Wanda couldn’t help but find it cute the way your cheeks squished against your arm.

“You can trust me, baby,” she told you sweetly.

You contemplated this for a moment. Though a moment for you was many moments in sober time.

“Fine, fine. I’ll tell you. But you can never speak of this.”

Wanda nodded. She had to admit, she was pretty curious about what you were going to say.

You beckoned Wanda closer to you. She complied, but you only motioned at her again to come closer. It was not until her face was inches away from yours that you finally whispered, “I was feeling feelings for you, Wanda.”

Wanda’s heart beat erratically in her chest at your confession. The words echoed in her head over and over again.

(back to present)

She hears them again now, as you sit in front of her anxiously, and finally, soberly, say what drunk you already confessed last night.

Wanda doesn’t say anything. Or more like, you don’t give her the chance to. Instantly, you begin to nervously fill the silence.

“There, I said it. I have feelings for you, Wanda. And I'm sorry. I know that’s not how this was supposed to go. That it was just supposed to be some casual fling. But I just couldn’t help it. And I know you don’t feel the same way, but, yeah.”

It is silent again for a moment, and you look back down at your lap anxiously.

Finally, Wanda says something.

“I never said that.”

Your head shoots up and you look at her, “what?”

“I never said if I do or don’t have feelings for you. In fact, you never even asked.”

Your lip trembles a little, but you look Wanda straight in the eyes and say, “well, do you?”

*******************************************************

Tag list: @xenaizogie @alexawynters @eclipse727 @idkwhatever580 @opp-jumpscare @starynn @alessiaswifey @noturlondonboy @chickenlittlsblog @lizzieolsen89

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izvmimi · 12 days ago

Text

cw: fluff/comfort-ish although it's an overall mild conversation. mention of kidnapping.

Luffy is acting strange.

A little strange might be the baseline for him, of course, but what you’ve noticed in the past 12 hours or so is a bit different than his normal flavor of strange - he’s being odd when it comes to you.

Your shadow as always, but oddly stiff, Luffy has been navigating around you far too carefully, as if you were to shatter the moment he touched you. His hands hover gently over any part of your body but he avoids touching you unnecessarily; you notice he’s hesitant to hold your hand, and from the moment you woke up this morning, disoriented slightly by the sudden rock of the ship by an unexpectedly large wave, you noticed his modest distance, his forehead gently pressed against the back of your head and his arm loosely draped over your hip, rather than coiled around you like a snake.

Careful, gentle.

It’s so unlike him it makes you nervous.

“Luffy,” you start finally, once the two of you have a quiet moment, hanging back in the kitchen. Everyone has left by now for their own pursuits after dinner - a few comments about Luffy’s appetite being slightly less terrifying than usual notwithstanding, he was relatively normal. But he’s lingered, crossing his legs on his chair in that familiar pose of his. You didn’t rise, Robin being kind enough to help clear all the dishes, even the half-eaten meal before you (again unthinkable with Luffy around).

The longer you think about it, perhaps the two of you were left alone here on purpose.

Luffy doesn’t respond immediately to the sound of your voice and you repeat his name again, letting your head rest on his shoulder. You can tell he has something to say but is unsure what, and coax him gently to speak by running your hand down the length of his forearm, interlacing your fingers together once you reach the hand.

He turns slowly to you, and the look on his face is apologetic more than anything, surprising for a man who limits emotions more complex than anger and joy in his expression.

“I’m happy you’re safe,” he says, simply.

Yesterday you were kidnapped on your stroll through the city, while Luffy had deviated off your path for a moment to peer at all things shiny and good-smelling. You didn’t immediately follow, and used to Luffy’s lazy but alarming practical yoinks of your body in space, snapping towards his side, you weren’t too automatically surprised when your feet suddenly left the ground.

Until you were face to face with an individual that was decidedly not Luffy at all.

The aftermath of all of that was settled quickly, a flurry of fists and yells quickly resolving the issue, but that wasn’t the part that lingers in Luffy’s psyche.

“I wasn’t in any danger, really,” you insist, and you mean it, not even a singular bruise on your skin, or a hair out of place.

You squeeze Luffy’s hand then smile at him brightly, trying to raise his spirits, even if only in the way the moon reflects back the sun’s shine. He knows it’s true even if it doesn’t necessarily fix things.

He twists his mouth to the side.

“That’s not the problem, is it?” you ask, sensing his continued discomfort. “You can’t expect things like that to not happen, we all have bounties, and-”

“You thought it was me.”

You blink, taken aback, and Luffy lets go of your hand for a moment as he turns fully to face you.

“I came out right when you got grabbed, and you didn’t scream at first until you saw it wasn’t me.”

You pause, letting his implication sit in.

“Luffy, what are you trying to say?” you ask.

He pauses for a moment, mulling the words in his mouth again, and your eyebrow furrows.

“You’ve said I was too rough with you before, but I didn’t think I was that bad.”

You open your mouth and close it, considering the fact that you wouldn’t be surprised if he threw you off a cliff with the promise to catch you at the bottom, as it wouldn’t help.

“I trust you, Luffy,” you say instead, unexpected Gum-Gum Rockets aside. “It’s okay if you get excited, I know that you love me and would never hurt me.”

He pauses for a moment, eyeing you as if to detect any softening of the truth, and perhaps you are smoothing over the truth, but you are telling the truth.

The rowdy man before you, a little too strong for his own good, perhaps passionate as ever, never means to hurt you, and loves you terribly.

“I’m sturdier than you think,” you remind him. With that, you offer him a kiss on the cheek, which warms him, and he’s quick to take your own face in his two hands, the grin back on his face.

“I’ll be more careful,” he still promises anyway.

“Sure, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be a little playful at all,” you remind him, your hands gently covering his.

“I want you to feel safe with me,” he finally says, in a soft voice and you offer him back the biggest widest smile.

“There’s no safer place than when I'm with you.”

#luffy x reader #monkey d luffy x reader #luffy fluff #one piece fluff #one piece x reader #daydreams: op #mimi's notes #lumimi

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tender-rosiey · 2 years ago

Text

“SILLY GIRL, TOLD YOU NOT TO WAIT”

— gojo, nanami, geto, and sukuna finding you asleep on the couch

a/n: f!reader also please if you have ideas throw them in my inbox <33

GOJO SATORU:

today, gojo was supposed to finish early, especially since the curse was a mere grade 2. however, right after he was done with it, he was assigned with more than 1 mission, one after the other.

so, the man who was supposed to be in your arms by 4pm is barely at the door at 12am. he opens the door muttering a small, “I am home,” in hopes of not waking you up.

he expects you to be in bed, maybe cuddling the pillows like you usually do or on the couch watching the series you two are following which he would consider a betrayal.

instead, he finds you fast asleep on the couch with your phone in your hand. a grin makes its way to his face as he nears your sleeping figure and kneels beside you.

you look like you fought a battle with your sleepiness, but it eventually won.

it’s adorable, he thinks.

now, though, nothing subjects you to sleeping on this couch even if it is expensive as hell and should be comfortable as hell too.

he picks you up gently, freezing in his place when you stir lightly in his arms. when you nuzzle into his chest, he can’t help but feel his heart burst with happiness.

he then continues his walk to your shared bedroom, placing you on the bed slowly and tucking you in. quickly, he changes and gets in the bed as well; his arms wrap themselves around you like it’s second nature and he feels you hum lightly.

“toru…?”

“I am here, sweets.”

and the smile on your face after hearing his voice makes a smile of his own appear, and gojo happily snuggles closer to you.

NANAMI KENTO:

your husband has told you multiple times to not stay up and wait for him on the days he tells you that the mission is going to be pretty long, to the point he will, unfortunately, work overtime.

so he didn’t know how to feel when he came back today and found you on the couch instead, leaning on the its arm and snoring softly.

on one hand, he feels so soft and his heart is singing, just in a really low and monotone nanami voice. on the other, he feels guilty that you had to sleep in such uncomfortable position while waiting for him.

so with a sigh, he goes to pick you up and just as he is about to slip his arms around your figure, you stir and open your eyes. you look up, eyes still half-lidded, but you can tell that it is your husband even from a mile away.

a smile makes its way to your lips instantly, “hey kento,” your hand reaches out to cup his face and you press a kiss to his nose.

nanami smiles helplessly, “hey love,” and puts his hand on top of yours while kissing your palm.

you pull him into a hug and nuzzle into his neck, “I missed you so much; how was work?”

“speaking of work,” he says and then lightly pinches you, “didn’t I tell you not wait up for me?”

“can you blame me?” you pout, “I wanted to make sure you’re safe and to be able to greet you like ‘welcome home my beloved!’, you get me?”

he chuckles lightly, “yeah yeah, ‘I get you’,” he easily picks you up making you yelp and proceeds to walk to your shared bedroom, “time to sleep now.”

“are we only going to sleep?” you cheekily say and your husband can’t help but roll his eyes.

“keep up that attitude and I assure you that you won’t get to sleep for even a second.”

GETO SUGURU:

geto is quite startled when he hears a thud in the living room, so he goes to check on the situation. maybe a small curse? but who would even enter his house with his kind of cursed energy?

instead of finding a curse, he just finds you, his wife, laying with your face to the ground and somehow sleeping rather comfortably.

quickly and barely suppressing his laughter, he takes a photo of your current situation.

“that’s going to be some good blackmail,” he thinks as a small grin never leaves his face.

now onto the next step that he still has to decide.

he can either carry you back to bed cause he is sure you will have a crisis when you see the markings on your face or he can wake you up and relish in your flustered face as you run around like a headless chicken.

he settles for gently nudging your shoulder, “y/n.”

you groan and he smiles a softer smile, “pretty girl, you fell off the bed.”

“so?” you grumble and turn away from him.

“your make-up printed on the ground.”

panicking, you sit up and look at the ground, “WHAT?!”

“you aren’t even wearing make-up,” you feel him kiss your cheek and chuckle, “get on the bed so you can sleep comfortably, silly.”

you huff and puff your cheeks while you get up and glare at your husband.

he merely stares at you with a silly smile that closely resembles the ( ◠‿◠ ) face and you simply can’t find it in you to be mad.

“you’re cute,” he whispers.

“and you’re ugly,” you affectionately whisper back.

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

no one dared to near sukuna’s throne, absolutely no one.

so imagine his surprise when he came back from his endeavors and found you, his pretty and simply irresistible wife, sleeping on it.

he has two options: either throw a pillow at you or grumble for you to wake up.

being a complete jerk, he chooses the former.

you’re startled awake and frantically look around you, “what the??”

“who gave you permission to sleep on my throne, woman?” your husband says with fake malice and you simply shrug with a smile.

“I am the queen so I don’t need no one’s permission.”

“oh? you sure got bolder; need I remind you who is the king of curses here?” he smirks lightly and you shake your head.

“it doesn’t matter, plus, what’s wrong with a woman missing her husband?”

sukuna was never able to respond, completely, well when you laid out your feelings, hence why he is silent and is merely looking at you.

you hear him click his tongue, “if you truly missed your husband then you would’ve awaited his arrival and flung yourself on him the moment he entered.”

you stand up, towering over sukuna because of how high his throne is off the ground, “last time I did that, you pushed me off and told me to ‘compose myself’, my dear king.”

he goes up the steps and slowly settles in front of you. he takes a hold of your chin and makes you look up, “my dear queen should know when her husband means something and when he doesn’t.”

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @dazaisdeathwish @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @luciferspen @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies @fiona782 @ginneko @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be fed to my cat

8K notes · View notes

kazuhaiku · 4 months ago

Text

love is the warmest color

summary: scaramouche finds love in you.

warnings: gn!reader, spoilers for a bit of scaramouche's storyline, fluff, really mild angst (almost non-existent)

notes: scaramouche oh how i love you so very much

scaramouche is used to people leaving him during the moments when he needs them the most. considering that his own creator has abandoned him due to her seeing no worth in him, he has always been cautious when creating new relationships with people.

however, that somewhat changed when he used the irminsul to wipe everyone’s memories of him, allowing him to create new and fresh memories, starting from being a student in the akademiya, which is where he first met you and formed a relationship with you.

“y/n can you hurry up?” scaramouche’s annoyed voice echoes in the empty classroom. “we’re going to be late!”

“shut up! i can’t find my pencil!” you exclaim, seeing scaramouche stand in the doorframe with a frown on his face. “can you at least help me look for it?”

“no,” scaramouche says almost instantly. “it’s your pencil, not mine. why do i have to be the one looking for it?”

“it’ll be quicker when you help me! you told me we’re running late for our next class, right?” you beg. scaramouche groans but walks up to your table, searching for the pencil with you.

“why are we searching for a stupid pencil anyway?” scaramouche asks, looking under your desk. “it’s just a pencil. we can always go buy another one after class ends.”

you gasp, almost as if you’re offended he said that. “how could you call it a ‘stupid pencil’?! you’re the one who gave it to me, remember? on the first day of class?”

scaramouche’s eyes widen, remembering the little gift he prepared for you on your first day as an akademiya student. it wasn’t even a serious gift, he thought it was quite silly in fact.

a pencil as a gift? surely you won’t treasure it that much. he thought to himself, but oh how wrong he was.

“you-” scaramouche stutters. “you kept that piece of junk?”

“don’t say that!” you slap his arm, hearing him hiss out an ‘ouch!’. “it’s precious to me, okay? that’s the only gift i’ve ever gotten from you!”

scaramouche pauses. seeing you frantically look around for a mere pencil made him feel guilty. has he never gotten you any other presents besides the pencil? you have been dating him for almost two months now and a pencil is what he gifts you? so, instead of continuing to look for the pencil, scaramouche taps you on your shoulder. “hey um,” he suddenly feels embarrassed seeing your eyes focus on him. “we can go buy another pencil. it’s not like it’s the end of the world losing it.”

“but-”

“i’ll buy you more gifts in the future,” he continues, not letting you speak a single word. scaramouche’s cheeks turn red. “so stop crying over a stupid pencil and let me give you another gift.” you stare at him for five seconds before laughing. scaramouche’s head turns towards you, a scowl on his face. “wha- stop laughing! why are you laughing?!”

“sorry it’s just-” you giggle. “i didn’t expect you to be so… kind? i don’t even know the word for it.” you wipe a stray tear from your eye. “okay, i’ll stop looking for the pencil if it will make you happy. let’s go out on a date after school!”

scaramouche choked on his own spit. “h-huh?! why today? we have so many assignments due tomorrow!”

“aw, since when were you so diligent in assignments?” you tease, pinching scaramouche’s cheeks. “you said you’ll get me a gift, right? why don’t we get one today?”

“huh?! since when were people able to choose a date for receiving a gift?” scaramouche frowns. “i am not going to buy you a gift today. it’ll ruin the element of surprise.”

“so we’re still going on a date today?” you ask excitedly. “yay! thank you, scara!” you give him a kiss on his cheek, catching him off guard. “come on, let’s get to class! the sooner we get there the faster we finish.”

later when you and scaramouche are working on assignments in a nearby cafe, you find the pencil you have been looking for in the bottom of your bag, covered by the mess inside your bag (to which scaramouche berates you for, saying you’re not good at taking care of your items).

334 notes · View notes

notjustjavierpena · 9 months ago

Note

you have returned! hope you’re doing ok! i miss husband!javi like i’m missing a limb!

this got me thinking about a request - husband!javi having to go away for a work trip for a few days - comes back and like cute family time. once the kids are in bed he just goes crazy about reader, she’s tired but she handled the kids no problem and is kind of like no big deal about it. and he’s just feral at that. she’s such a good mum and he’s so turned on and he missed her and just ugh smut

Return

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: This is a request from the 17th of October 2023. Anon, I hope you are still with us. I loved writing this for you, and I hope it lives up to your expectations. Thank you to proofreading as always @angelofsmalldeath-codeine !! thank you for hyping me @theywhowriteandknowthings and @pinkypromisepascal 💖❤️

Summary: Javier returns from a business trip after being apart from his family for three whole days.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18, domesticity, a happy family, javi having a baby in his arms and spending alone-time with his kids needs its own tag, i love yous, pregnancy, playful and teasing hubby, touch-starved, banter, dirty talk, finger-fucking, talk about female masturbation, pussy eating, loud reader, piv sex, riding, nipple sucking, lactation kink, javi gets off on you being the mother of his children, multiple orgasms, creampie, intense sex, bliss, pillow talk

Word count: 8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54409297

Return

The sound of the door has you sprinting towards it. You throw your arms around Javier’s neck before he even manages to put down his bag, causing him to drop it and make a noise of concern in case its contents may end up spilling out on the floor. If you have to be completely honest, you don’t give a damn right now because you haven’t felt his embrace for nearly three whole days.

“Hola, baby,” he says with a voice that tells you that he is smiling. He holds you close to himself, one hand reaching around your waist and the other one settling on the back of your head. He presses your body into his own, and you try to keep yourself from making a noise that reminds you of a schoolgirl.

Javier has been on a work trip out of state. It happens from time to time that some department of the state gets the not-so-incredible idea of hiring him as a motivational speaker to make their conferences look more interesting than they actually are. Javier hates it but the money is good and his boss always ends up encouraging him in a way that mostly sounds like he has no choice.

You hate it too. The act of sleeping in your bed alone, not feeling his body heat, and not being able to simply reach out for him if you need him, is torturous. Combined with taking care of three children alone, you find yourself slowly becoming a less-than-ideal version of yourself. It’s a stressfully romantic reminder that you can barely function without him.

“Hi,” you grin widely as you pull back to receive a kiss. You splay your palms on his chest, scratching slightly as he pecks your lips repeatedly for a moment. Your whole body feels like it is made up of butterflies fluttering around each other in a romantic dance.

“Thank God that’s over,” he reaches for the suitcase when you finally allow him to step out of your arms. He walks into the kitchen, “They were talking through my whole fucking presentation, and the meetings afterward… I was just daydreaming about coming home to you and the kids the whole time.”

“That bad?” You follow him around like a puppy. If you didn’t know that he would do the same thing had it been you arriving home, you would find yourself slightly pathetic for being such a fool for him.

“I should’ve said no this time,” he says as if it had ever been an option. You nod as he continues, “I do it every year and I feel like an idiot each time.”

“We need the money,” you argue, finally moving away from your husband to go to the living room where Sebastian is lying on a blanket. He squeals in delight at seeing you, and you pick him up with a coo.

“We don’t need the money, we’ve got enough money,” Javier says from the kitchen.

“Come say hi to your son,” you change the subject and hear Javier’s steps come closer.

“Oh, there he is,” Javier says and his voice switches to baby talk as you hand Sebastian to him. He settles him on his hip, bouncing slightly where he stands, “Te he extrañado tanto, mijo (I have missed you so much, my son).”

Sebastian gurgles happily up at his father. His eyes are full of recognition at the sound of the familiar voice. You swear that you can see a little bit of the exhaustion in Javier’s eyes disappear.

“He’s been really patient with his mom these past couple of days,” you say with a chuckle, “No fussing during naps or nothing. Almost like he knew I needed the extra sympathy.”

“Bet your momma handled everything way better than I could, huh? What do you think?” Javier shifts Sebastian to sit on his arm instead so he can blow a raspberry on his face. He smiles softly at you afterward, turning his head towards you so that he and his son are cheek to cheek, “Is that wrong to assume?”

“I still think you’re better with them than me,” you say simply.

He tuts, “Bullshit.”

Sebastian makes another happy noise at hearing both of his favorite voices. He swings his tiny fists, and Javier grabs one of his hands, “If this one wasn’t so fixated on playing peek-a-boo, he’d agree. Suppose we all have our vices.”

You move past him with a roll of your eyes and a smile on your face. You go to check the food on the stove, and from behind you, Javier sniffs the air. He walks to join you by the counter, “What are you making?”

“Tu favorito (your favorite),” you smile at Sebastian instead of looking at him, leaning in to bump your nose with his tiny one. Sebastian grabs at your face.

“No te merezco, mi amor (I don’t deserve you, my love).”

“We eat in twenty minutes,” you inform after lovingly shaking your head at him. He leans in to kiss you again and you know immediately that this is just one of many kisses you will get tonight.

“Where are the rascals?” He asks.

“In the garden,” you reply and open your arms, “Give him here and go say hi. Inés has been going on about you all day, so please save me from hearing more about her super-duper-awesome Daddy.”

Carefully, Javier hands over Sebastian, “I thought you liked her super-duper-awesome Daddy.”

“I think I might actually love him,” you grin and try not to feel silly at your sappiness because you do actually love him so much that it is stupid. Sebastian clings to you as soon as he smells you, resting his head on your shoulder and bunching his fists in your shirt.

Javier kisses you once more before heading to the door to the garden. You hear him leave it open, and watch him go outside and step off the porch with a hello.

“Hey there, gremlins!” He shouts. Inés and Lucas, both engrossed in their own activities, look up at the same time. Their faces light up at the sight of their father, but Inés is the one who makes a noise so loud that you can hear it in the kitchen as if she’s speaking right next to you.

Both of them come charging whilst shouting for him. you smile fondly at the sight of them colliding with their father who lets himself be knocked backward into the grass with a happy laugh. He wraps his arms around them and squeezes them tightly, “How’ve you been? I’ve missed you.”

They both look up at his face, speaking enthusiastically at the same time until he can barely tell what is going on. Their stories of the events of the last three days weave together until it is nonsense, and they don’t seem to notice that he cannot follow along with what they are saying. He ruffles their hair and sits up with them still cradled in the crooks of his arms, “Wow wow wow, uno a la vez (one at a time).”

“I made a tower of blocks that was taller than me!” Inés says proudly and Lucas seems to let her have the spotlight for a moment. He knows that she’ll get distracted and run away soon anyway, giving him his own chance at talking to his father. Inés talks loudly, “Mommy took a picture. She said that you needed the evi— evin— uhh… evindance.”

“Evidence,” Lucas corrects her with a superior smirk.

“That’s what I said,” she huffs.

“Nuh-uh,” her brother protests and ducks out from underneath his father’s arm.

“Ya-huh!” Inés removes herself from the embrace too.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Javier chuckles, “I’ll have to ask mamá for your picture. It sounds really cool.”

“Can we build one together?” She asks with a hopeful voice, “Pleeease.”

“Let’s save it for after dinner, mija (my daughter), okay?” He suggests, “And then I’ll build a tower that’s double the size of you before you gotta sleep.”

“Really? When?” Inés reveals that she still has no real concept of time.

“After dinner, baby,” he says again, winking at Lucas who grins, “Go ask Mommy when we’re eating.”

She is up in no time, running towards you in the kitchen. It leaves Lucas the perfect opportunity to have his moment. He gets up from the ground, his jeans covered in green patches, and starts walking towards the swing set that Javier built a few years ago.

“Dad, you need to see what I’ve learned!” He says.

“Alright, let’s see,” Javier pushes himself to stand with a groan and follows, crossing his arms over his chest and watching his son get onto the seat of the swing. By clutching the chains tightly, Lucas pulls himself to carefully stand up on the swing seat.

Javier finds himself about to protest, instinctively holding out a hand to be ready for a potential fall. However, Lucas seems to have everything under control as he holds the chains tightly with both hands. He speaks as he starts swaying back and forth, looking hopeful for approval from who he knows to be the bravest man in his world, “I practiced all day yesterday!”

“Eres increíble (you’re incredible)!” Javier cheers but then smiles smugly, “Does mom know you’re doing that?”

“She told me not to,” he admits shyly.

“Well, I haven’t seen anything,” Javier winks.

“Thanks, Dad,” it sounds genuine, happy to keep a secret. Lucas lights up, “Wanna see me jump?”

“Even your old dad has limits,” Javier laughs with a shake of his head, “Get down from there. No jumping.”

“Fine,” his son grumbles.

When he is on the ground, you pop your head out of the door to call them inside, “Dinner time, chicos (guys). Lucas, come in here and wash your hands.”

You smile as they approach, and when Lucas has walked past you, you stop Javier in the doorway and curl your fingers around his tie, “You better wash them too, Peña.”

—

The sun hangs low on the horizon when dinner ends. You start gathering the plates and glasses, and Lucas joins in without hesitation which gives Javier a glimpse of what happens when he isn’t home to take care of you. Maybe his son can sense your exhaustion too. He feels a pang of guilt in his stomach but decides to make up for it by getting his daughter ready for bed.

“Come on, mija (my daughter),” he says, picking Inés up from the floor and throwing her over his shoulder to make her laugh, “Pajamas first and then building blocks.”

He carries her upstairs to the bathroom and helps her into her pajamas, braids her hair the way she likes it, and then gets her toothbrush. She spends the whole time babbling about how she’ll grow taller like her mother and thus they’ll have to build a higher tower each day.

“Open up,” he says, sitting on the lid of the toilet with her standing between his legs. He holds her toothbrush in front of her mouth.

“Do you think I’ll be taller than you someday?” She asks with her childlike eyes, and Javier has to tap her chin to make her remember to open her lips.

“No, because I’ll just wear very big shoes, even if my head bumps against the ceiling,” he tells her with a grin, “C’mon, teeth brushing time.”

Inés grimaces but follows through and he has to shush her several times because she wants to keep talking.She even sports impatience on her face as her father wipes down her mouth with a damp flannel to rid it of leftover toothpaste. She looks ready to bolt out of the door, fidgeting slightly on the spot, “You promised we could build a tower before bed.”

“And we can,” he reassures, turning the flannel over to wipe the tip of her nose playfully. She crinkles it and reaches up to rub it afterward when he moves to hang it on the laundry basket, “But we’re getting ready for bed first. Hair okay?”

She nods, not entirely convinced that she gets to stay up longer after having brushed her teeth but when Javier has put her toothbrush back in its place in the medicine cabinet, she beams as he allows her to run off to her room. He follows behind, arms stretched out in front of himself, “I’m coming to get you, mija (my daughter)!”

“Nooo!” She squeals in delight, trying to barricade the door with her tiny body but he is too fast and manages to reach her before she can even close it. He picks her up by her middle and holds her upside down, shaking her gently while she laughs and laughs.

“Mi monita (my little monkey),” he laughs too.

They spend half an hour as the architects of a tall and colorful skyscraper, Inés too impatient to see the tower reach her own height to care much for aesthetics. Javier tries suggesting a storyline of a castle but his daughter shakes her head.

“Stop, Daddy,” she commands and he holds up his hands in surrender.

“So no princesses live here?” He questions, “Not even a dragon? Or maybe a—”

“No,” she deadpans, steadfast just like Javier’s father has told him he was. He smiles when she isn’t looking, not about to get scolded by a 4-year-old for not taking their playtime seriously. He enjoys the little moments he has like these, seeing the way his daughter imitates his own behavior in a way that would make your teasing never-ending if you saw it. At that moment, he despises himself and his job because he has to leave sometimes and thus misses out on things. He should have been here when Inés built a tower as tall as herself by herself, not see it in a photograph later.

Eventually, the construction gets too tall for her to build it even taller. Javier is put to work immediately after she realizes this, and she oversees his work with important nods and looks of assessment.

“Look, Daddy!” She exclaims with each building block that Javier places on top of another. She stands beside the tower because she needs to compare her height to it, and Javier has to keep a hand on her shoulder to steady her when she gets close to making it tumble down, “Do you think it will reach the ceiling?”

“One day I’m sure it’ll reach the moon,” he replies as if it is a fact, “I for sure am tall enough.”

“No, you’re not,” she furrows her brow, thinking, “But we will just have to get a very big ladder.”

Finally, Javier has built a tower double her size. It stands wobbly on the floor. He nods towards it, “There you go, mi amor (my love), do you want to put the last block on top? The triangular one?”

She nods and he notices the telltale signs of Inés’ tiredness because her eyes have started drooping. She rubs them with a little sigh, and then holds out her arms so he can pick her up and place her on his hip.

She places the block carefully on top after Javier hands it to her. It is like all energy reserves have been used up from one moment to another. However, he doesn’t want to risk the unsteady tower falling over in the middle of the night, so he whispers in his most mischievous voice, “Do you want to knock it down?”

“Can I?” She widens her eyes.

“Sí, pero no se lo digas a tu mamá (yes, but don’t tell your mom),” he confirms, “Perhaps a big angry monkey swung from it whilst roaring like this!”

He imitates King Kong the best he can and is thankful she has no clue what it is, and she repeats after him only to push on the stacked blocks until they tumble to the floor. He kicks the remaining pieces with his foot, and she roars again. They laugh together until she yawns.

“Alright, es hora de dormir (it’s time to sleep),” he announces then, and she doesn’t protest. He shifts her slightly in his arms so she can wrap herself around him with both her arms and legs, burying her face in his shoulder. It’s clear that she has missed him. He rubs her back with both hands before holding her in place, moving towards the bed in the corner of her room.

Gently, he lays her down and crouches down beside her afterward. He pulls the covers up over her head on purpose and earns a giggle, “Oh no, where did Inés go?”

“You’re silly, Papá,” she says.

“Go to sleep, baby,” he tells her after tucking her in properly this time, “You are so tired. I will see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you for playing with me,” Inés says with a yawn, turning on her side to look at him better. She softens a little as her eyes start to flutter closed, her father’s hand running over her head. Another yawn comes, “Te quiero, Papá. No me gusta cuando te vas y no me gusta extrañarte (I love you, Dad. I don’t like it when you leave and I don’t like missing you).”

Javier sucks in a breath. He rubs the spot between her eyebrows, trying to keep his composure, “Lo sé, mi vida (I know, my life). I love you too. Sleep well, okay?”

“Okay,” she slurs, and then her breathing slows. He tucks her in one last time, leaning in to kiss her hair softly before stretching carefully to his full height. He makes sure to turn on her night light before turning off the overhead lights, closing the door ever so gently afterward.

He lets out a deep breath right outside her room and smooths two fingers over his mustache. He hasn’t told you about this yet but he is considering quitting his job, has been considering it very seriously since Christmas when he promised to cut down on work significantly to be home a lot more with you and the kids. That and the fact that you are carrying his fourth child, and leaving you home alone with all four in the future just seems cruel.

However, it’s a comment like the one he has just received from his only daughter that sets it in stone. His search for other jobs is not a mere idea any longer but rather a necessity if he wants to continue being happy with his family.

He has to tell you and he is dying to already, but first, he wants to unpack and then tuck Lucas in too. He has three days of goodnights to catch up on.

—

He enters Lucas’ room half an hour later to the familiar sound of his son’s Game Boy, its rhythmic beeps and pings accompanied by the frantic tapping on its buttons. Lucas is sitting cross-legged in his bed, already wearing his pajamas and with his face illuminated by the screen of his console.

“Hey Dad, can you knock? I’m losing my concentration,” his son says without looking up from the screen, already sounding so grown up that Javier has to tighten his grip around the doorknob. Where did the time go?

“Ay, Lucas,” he tuts and crosses the room to stand by the bed, “Soy tu padre (I’m your father).”

“I just really don’t want to lose,” he explains and starts tapping away on the buttons again, his stare still fixed on the little jumping character. Javier waits for a moment, following his game by looking over his shoulder.

When enough time has passed and Lucas seems to relax a bit more, he interrupts again, “Alright, time for bed, muchacho (young man).”

“One more game!” Lucas finally looks up with pleading eyes. The boy sports the same puppy-look in them that you have said Javier does himself, and it was only when he looked into Lucas’ pleading face the first time that he realized what you meant. The look is damn near impossible to say no to.

“Fine, but I’m taking it afterward unless you promise me not to play all night,” he says firmly, “Even Mario has to sleep at some point.”

“I will!” He reassures quickly, “Only five minutes more, I promise.”

“But I want to talk to you about something first,” he holds out his hand for the gaming console, “Dámelo (Give it to me). It’s important you listen.”

“Am I in trouble?” Lucas reluctantly hands his most precious belonging to his father who places it on the nightstand.

“What? No, mijo (my son),” Javier gets Lucas under the covers, tucks him in, and then sits down on the edge of the bed, “How would you like it if I got to spend more time at home with you all?”

“What do you mean?” Lucas tilts his head in confusion.

“Can you keep a secret from Mom?” He asks with a gentle smile. Lucas nods. He continues, “I’m quitting my job soon.”

“Really?!” Lucas exclaims with pure shock on his face.

“Shh, your sister and your brother are asleep down the hall,” he shushes, holding a finger in front of his mouth.

“Really?” He whispers instead.

“Absolutely, really,” Javier whispers back and Lucas’ eyes sparkle with excitement. He sits up in bed, pushing the covers aside to crawl into his father’s arms. Maybe he isn’t so grown up after all. Javier hugs him back and kisses his hair, “I’ve been thinking that spending more time with you, your brother and your sister is what I’ve been missing. I don’t like leaving you here to be the big boy of the house when I’m not here.”

He continues when Lucas tightens his arms around him. He muses, “And even if I’ll still have a job, there’ll be more time for game nights and football in the garden. Would you like that?”

Lucas nods into his shoulder. Javier chuckles softly, "But remember, es nuestro secreto (it’s our secret) until I talk to Mom about it. We want to make sure she's on board with the plan, yeah?”

Lucas pulls back and nods eagerly, looking like he is already daydreaming of the extra time he'll get to spend with his father. However, there’s a tinge of anxiety in his excitement, and his voice is an unsure whisper when he speaks his concern, "Dad, what if Mom doesn't like the idea? What if she gets upset?"

“She understands how important our family time is. Trust me, te prometo (I promise) everything will be okay," he says with a reassuring smile.

“But what will your new job be?” Lucas continues, “Will it be something cool?”

“I think I might start teaching people how to catch bad guys like I used to do,” he shrugs.

Lucas grimaces, “You’re gonna be a teacher?”

“Alright, that’s enough,” he laughs, “Bedtime.”

“You said one more game!” He protests.

Javier gets up to grab the Game Boy off the nightstand. He holds it out for his son and yanks it away when he tries to take it, “One.”

“I promise,” he says and takes it when he is allowed.

“And your father is actually very cool,” Javier moves to turn off the lights. He can already hear the theme tune of Lucas’ game, “Buenas noches (goodnight).”

“Buenas noches, papá, te quiero,” Lucas beams in the few seconds he looks up.

“Y yo a tí, mijo (I love you too, my son),” he says and flicks the switch.

“They’re asleep,” Javier says as he enters the kitchen a few minutes later. He finds you leaning against the counter with a glass of alcohol-free red wine in your hand. The bottle stands on the counter behind you, its contents half-emptied as if it's been your only way of treating yourself in the evenings after the kids have gone to bed. You look tired from having been alone with all three of them - one of them still an infant - for three days and with a secret baby in your belly to top it off.

Chucho had offered to help you out but you had politely declined so as to not ask for too much of your father-in-law, not be too much of an inconvenience when he has so much to do at the ranch with getting ready for the Spring.

“I’m about to be too,” you say after a sip of your glass.

“When I’ve finally gotten you to myself?” Javier tuts and steps closer to you, stopping when he is right in front of you. He checks the baby monitor on the kitchen counter next to the wine bottle and then he takes the glass off your hand, setting it aside as well.

His hands find your sides afterward, cupping your waist for a moment before they slide around your body so he can pull you in for a long and desperate kiss. You rest your arms on his shoulders, cradling his head as he moves his mouth with yours. It is nothing but pure ecstasy to feel him like this again, so much that you forget to breathe and have to pull away too soon.

You know he is the same when he sucks a breath in at the same time as you. However, instead of kissing you again, he lets you catch your breath and hugs you close to his chest. His body feels warm, an instant smile forming on your face as he squeezes you.

“Hi,” you say, sounding drunk despite the wine having no alcohol. His arms are a harbor, the very definition of the end of unhappiness. They’re strong and enough to make your head swim, holding you with the promise of never being apart except for physically.

You feel his breath against your ear, “Hey, mamá.”

“I’m so glad you’re home with me again,” you close your eyes as you inhale through your nose, letting the scent of him flood your system.

Javier pulls back and stares at you for a moment. He smirks, a mischievous gleam appearing in his eyes. Then he lets go of you to reach up and teasingly pull down your top to look down into it.

“Ay, Javi,” you scold with a roll of your eyes.

“What?” He acts oblivious.

“You’re acting insane, and I’m trying to be genuine.”

“I haven’t seen you in three days, mi amor (my love), you can’t blame me,” he protests your accusation, “Besides, this is me being very genuine.”

“Missed you too,” you sigh.

“And I’ve missed you, Jesus,” he wraps his arms around your waist again, pulls you closer to his body, and uses every opportunity to kiss you after each sentence, “Missed these tits. Missed your gorgeous pussy. You gotta let me have it tonight, mamácita.”

“Take me upstairs then,” you lean your head back when he presses his lips to your throat, “We’re not doing it in the kitchen. Against popular belief.”

Javier snorts, “But we always—“

“I said against popular belief, baby,” you stress.

“Fine, c’mere then,” his arms slide down over your hips, and when they reach your knees, he scoops you up with his strong arms and lifts you over his shoulder. You answer with a yelp that turns into a panicked laugh but he simply smacks your ass and starts walking. In the middle of the chaos, you manage to reach for the baby monitor on the counter.

“You are incorrigible,” you say with a dramatic sigh.

“Yes, wife, yes, wife good, I like wife,” he replies in his best caveman accent and you snicker all the way up the stairs, legs dangling over his shoulder and ready to scold him each time he gropes your ass.

When he throws you down on the bed, you are having a full-on laughing fit and the bubbling in your chest feels so good. Even better, when he looms over you by the end of the bed while unbuttoning his shirt, only to crawl on top of you. He kisses your wine-stained lips, scooping you up into his arms and you return his embrace after throwing the baby monitor on the bed.

“I love your laugh,” he says softly when he needs a breath, bumping your noses together.

“You just kidnapped me from the kitchen, that’s no laughing matter,” you tease. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss your neck while you talk.

“Then why are you giggling like a schoolgirl?” He places a hand on your belly that still keeps a secret between the two of you. No one knows yet.

There is concentration on his face when his hand moves up under your top, smoothing the fabric up until you stretch your arms above your head to help him rid it off of your body.

“Hmm,” you think out loud, “Maybe because I have this terrible schoolgirl crush on you.”

“Really? I thought marriage was just a matter of convenience,” he chuckles and kisses your neck again. You lay your hands on his shoulders, smoothing them over the broadness of his bare skin that’s been missing underneath your fingertips and pushing him down towards your chest.

“This is pretty good too, most convenient,” you note with a grin as he follows your silent order, moving his mouth south on you until he plants kisses between your breasts. You reach underneath your back to undo your bra, and he peels it off of you and sighs with satisfaction as soon as he has your upper body naked.

“Look at you,” he groans, throwing the bra to the side and diving back into you. He kisses the swell of your right breast, “You make me so fucking horny.”

You throw your head back as he lets the flat of his tongue trail wetly from one breast to the other. He sucks a nipple into his mouth and earns his first moan, to which he presses his clothed crotch into your thigh to show you how hard he is already.

“I’ve been wet since I saw you at the door,” you admit, “Been thinking of your cock inside of me each night. So fucking lonely without you.”

“You should have called me,” he mutters, mouth going further down on your body until he reaches the hem of your jeans. He undoes the button and zipper, yanking them over your hips and pulling them off your legs.

“I was too busy screwing myself,” you tell him and he immediately finds your eyes. That clearly hit a spot, “You like that, huh?”

“Tell me about it,” he struggles a little with the jeans as they sit around your ankles, but the desperation has him yanking them off with enough enthusiasm to pull you along.

“If you weren’t trying to drag me onto the floor— oh, shit.”

Javier has dragged your underwear along with the jeans, and he is now sinking two fingers deep inside of your dripping cunt and pressing them upwards. It’s what you get for being snarky, you suppose, staring down at him as he fucks you open on his digits.

“Your mouth— ah, put your mouth on me,” you try to command.

“Quiet down, baby. I literally just put the kids to bed. You want them running in here?” He shushes you with an amused grin, adding a third finger to your squelching cunt to make you groan, “While I’m wearing you like a puppet?”

You rock against his hand with a chuckle that develops into a moan, “Imagine the conversation that’ll start.”

“I’d rather have a conversation about how filthy you’ve been while I was away,” he speeds up his fingers to make you cry out against your hand but he doesn’t make you come, changing his mind halfway there to follow through on your request, “No, actually I’ll have you monologue about it because I’m going to eat your pussy as you do it.”

You tremble as he takes your clit in his mouth, easing his tongue over the hard nub over and over again whilst timing it with the strokes of his fingers. You feel so full of his digits, and it takes you a moment to trust yourself not to cry at the ceiling the second you remove your hand from your mouth.

“Took a long shower the day before yesterday, after the kids had gone to school and Seb was napping,” you begin with shaking breaths. You need to start the sentence three times before you can make your words make sense, “Used the faucet on the bathtub and came so goddamn hard. You should’ve seen me with my legs up against the wall.”

Below you, Javier hums in approval and it vibrates through your throbbing pussy. You continue.

“I imagined you going down on me with your warm tongue, circling my clit— yes, just like that,” just talking about it makes you gush from how horny it makes you, wetness dripping past Javier’s lips and into his mouth. He groans against you and mouths at your pulsing clit. You find yourself much closer from how well your body remembers the orgasm you had in the shower; the warm water pounding rhythmically against your clit, your toes curling, and— and.

You grind into his mouth and fuck yourself on his fingers as you come, the hot and heavy feeling of an orgasm crashing over you and intensifying as it peaks. You have to bite your lip to keep from screaming, still not managing to keep the high-pitched ah! from reverberating through the room. Javier’s fingers feel so much bigger inside of you as your cunt strangles them, and when you look down at him, you see that he is crashing his hips against the bed to feel just a bit of relief.

You have lost all restraint in your noises as you feel the pleasure ebb out, leaving you a whimpering and panting mess on the bed that wants it all. Somehow you are deeply satisfied at the same time as knowing that this is not enough; you need all of him, and you need him inside of your cunt until you can barely move from the spot. The fact that your body still works when he pulls his fingers from you is an indication of not having had enough.

“Need to fuck you,” he says from below you, crawling on top of you. He has left a damp spot on the sheets from where his cock has dragged against them, and he looks like he is in pain at this point if he doesn’t get to feel you around him, “Now, mi amor (my love).”

“No,” you stop him as he tries spreading your legs with a gentle yet hurried hand.

“No?” His brows furrow, a protest on the tip of his tongue.

“Let me ride you,” you beg, already pushing on his shoulders and feeling how he is giving in in an instant, “Please, I want you so deep in me.”

“Yes, yeah, okay,” he breathes, moving to lie on his back with a pillow under his head. You shake as you lift yourself to straddle him, holding out your arms in front of yourself to signal that you want him to be close to you. He reads you without you saying anything and sits up in your bed so you can be chest to chest.

You reach beneath yourself to take hold of the base of his cock, holding him in place so you can sink down on his shaft until he is buried inside of you to the hilt. You are dripping wet. The motion of engulfing him in your heat is smooth and effortless, and the moans the both of you let out are closer to whines because you are so starved.

“It’s so good, you’re so wet, baby,” he mumbles quietly in your ear, nosing along the spot behind it. You arch into him, nodding without any words coming to your mind. Instead, you let out a soft gasp as he fucks up into you.

Nothing describes being this close to him after not even being able to kiss him for three days. Other couples would shake their heads if they knew how desperate you get from merely three days apart. You only feel sorry for them. They don’t get how your days are spent with taking every opportunity to lay eyes on each other, breathe and taste each other or even just being able to put a hand on each other’s shoulder, hip, the small of the back.

“Let me,” you pant as he moves underneath you, sending you into a state where you need to concentrate if you want to get out a proper sentence, “I want to fuck this cock. Please, let me.”

Javier stills his hips underneath you. He seems to be holding his breath as he watches you place your hands on his shoulders and then feel them slide behind his head to tilt his head backward. He looks up at you as you start moving on him, rocking in his lap so he barely pulls out of you.

“Come on, that’s a good girl,” he says when he finally sucks in a breath, eyes gazing up at you with a pussydrunk look in them. When they glaze over like this, you know his words will be ravenous and never-ending, “Fuck, baby. That’s it. There you go. Let me touch you so deep inside.”

It doesn’t take long for him to be distracted by your moving chest as you sensually drag your hips over his thick cock. He did tell you that he had missed your breasts but that had been in a slightly playful manner; you never thought that you would actually start to feel beautiful under his hungry eyes. It shouldn’t come as a shock to you because he always knows how to make you feel desirable.

“Attagirl,” he groans, holding your hip tightly with his right hand to help you keep your balance, “God, look at those pretty tits.”

You arch your back as he puts his other hand on your left breast, bending his head down to mouth along the swell until he reaches your nipple. He swirls his tongue once but it is too hard to keep going when you move more frantically on top of him to pleasure yourself, so instead, he wraps his whole mouth around the hardened, spit-slicked peak and sucks until your cunt clamps down in surprise of how good it feels.

“Fuck,” you pant, closing your eyes. The noises of him sucking on your breasts fill your ears and along with how it is making your belly swirl, it makes you impossibly wetter, coating his dick in a milky-white ring. A lewd thought enters your mind. Perhaps, he keeps knocking you up because of this; your cup size has remained the same for a while because you’ve been breastfeeding for months now, and with another baby on its way, you know that the months will keep adding up in the near future.

A drop slips into his mouth and spurs him on to give you a thorough taste. Your brows pull together as a more high-pitched moan leaves your open mouth and he pulls back to shush you gently. Then he sucks greedily again.

You had once asked him why he loved this, and he had replied that the very fact that you were producing milk so sweet to nurture his child went straight to his dick.

“Javi,” you whine to tell him just how you feel. He removes his mouth from your sensitive chest to talk, albeit reluctantly. However, when he notices the change in your sounds and your pitch, he doesn’t want to look away from your face again until he has seen you lose it.

“Oh, you wanna come, huh? Then fuck me,” he says with milk-stained lips. You move desperately in his lap as he spurs you on, feeling the head of his cock dragging back and forth inside of you, laying against your g-spot perfectly if you tilt your hips just a bit. Javier’s eyes burn as they stare up at you but he cannot help himself from occasionally glancing down at your bouncing tits. Your need to come grows, and when you press down slightly harder, you see stars behind your eyelids. A second orgasm tears through you, and one of the hands that has gripped your hip hard enough to bruise comes up to cover your mouth because you start screaming. It’s so intense to have missed him so much.

“There she is,” he growls lowly, watching your face contort with pleasure until tears slide down your face and underneath his palm that’s tightly secured over your whining mouth, “That’s my good girl. You know how to come on this fucking cock, fuck, you feel so good, mi vida (my life), choking my dick. Keep going— no no, don’t stop, ride through it, baby.”

You force yourself to continue moving and keep crying into his hand, wet from drool and tears by now. The oversensitivity is mind-numbing, toe-curling, and somehow still not enough.

“Almost made me come, mi chica sucía y desesperada (my dirty, eager girl),” he says through a breathless chuckle but then raises his brows as your pitch starts climbing once again. You have successfully bypassed your body and started building up another high, “You’re gonna come again? Díos mio (my God), my beautiful wife is insatiable.”

Any chance of talking back at him is lost because you would wake up the whole neighborhood if he dared remove his hand from your mouth. To put his filthy mouth in its place, you start bouncing in his lap to the point where his naked thighs crash harshly into your ass. The sound of skin slapping against skin is dirty but Javier’s desperate groans are obscene. He can barely talk now without his voice wavering, and with the way he repeats himself, you know he is doing everything in his power to let you come one more time before he bursts, “Use my cock, yes like that. K-keep going— you’re gonna make me come. Oh fuck.”

When he notices that you are trying to say something, he removes his hand and allows you a single sentence before clamping the hand down over your mouth again.

“I can’t do it anymore,” you whimper with exhaustion, thighs having started to tremble with the effort you are putting into bouncing in his lap. They hurt at this point, straining despite how much you also use your arms to steer yourself.

“Don’t worry about it, Go until you can’t fucking do it anymore and I’ll take over, yeah?” He nods at you when you make a mhm-noise into his hand, eyes encouraging and his breaths less composed.

When you come a second time on his dick, you falter immediately. The sensation of the pleasure that has built up so fast again crashes down and takes you with it in its fall. You are silent when it’s teetering on the edge, and then it makes your voice crack when you feel the first tug behind your throbbing clit.

There is only the feeling of your convulsing cunt making you believe in a higher power - in this case, Javier fucking Peña - and then said higher power wrapping his arm around your sticky back to lift you up and down. He snaps his hips upwards to use your body for his own pleasure, and after a series of frantic movements, he comes with a groan. The feeling of his warm spill inside of you has you whimpering, and you try your best to rock your hips the best your exhausted body can. If it weren’t for all the dopamine in your system, you are sure it would hurt.

“Yes, yes, yesyesyes. Oh, baby, fuck the come out of me, yes, that’s it,” he chants underneath you as he fills you up, moving to meet you halfway until he also has no more to give. When he stills, he grabs your face to smash your lips together in a messy, desperate kiss that is more teeth than anything else. It feels impossible to get close enough to him, even if your chests stick together from sweat.

A moment later, you fall down onto his chest with a chuckle, head swimming from what you have just done. Your arms lie on either side of his head, and your cheek is pressed into his hair. You can feel his nose dig into your shoulder, inhaling you and your post-sex scent, and his arms tighten around your waist as he hugs you close.

“That was fantastic,” you groan with him still inside of you. He gives you one more thrust, pressing his hips upwards, and you half-moan in oversensitivity and half-laugh in surprise, “Stop it, Peña.”

He laughs breathlessly, placing a kiss on your bare skin. Then he slips out of you with a grunt, and you feel his come drip from you already, down onto his cock and thighs. He rubs your sides with his broad hands, “I have missed you as well, you know.”

“I don’t ever want you to go again,” you demand sillily.

“You say that every time.”

“I mean it every time.”

There’s a pause between the two of you. It lasts several minutes where you just lie on top of his chest. 5, 10, 15 minutes pass. Javier says nothing yet you know him well enough to know that he is considering his words.

“I was thinking of something,” he finally says.

You sit up at that, “What?”

“You know how I said something about work during Christmas? That I wanted to be more home with you and the kids, that it would make me happier?” He begins, looking up at you and not hesitating in his eye contact with you.

You suddenly pay a lot more attention, “Yeah?”

“I was thinking that since I will have a bunch of kids to carry around a lot more years from now, I can’t be running around in the force anymore. My back is fucking killing me, and I also want to make love to my wife on the regular,” he tells you and you know instantly that it’s serious even if he says it with a chuckle, “I was thinking of teaching at the local college. They have a criminology course, and with my time in school with my head in the books - I mean, my bachelor’s degree - it shouldn’t be a problem to get a job there.”

“Are you serious?” You gape at him.

“Yes, of course, I am,” he furrows his brow slightly. Only now, he looks unsure but still keeps talking, “It would mean nothing of this sort either; me going away.”

“Babe, that’s amazing,” you fall down into him again, causing an umph-noise from your husband, and then you crash your lips into his. You kiss him as if your life depended on it, sliding your fingers through his dark hair and tugging slightly as if trying to get him even closer to you.

He looks drunk and disheveled when you pull back again, a goofy and satisfied smile on his face. His fingers scratch slightly along your back, “You’d like that, huh?”

“Yes, please,” you beam with happiness.

“Then you shall have it, mi vida (my life),” his hands travel down to your ass which he gropes obscenely, and when you make a noise, he smacks your right cheek. You feel his cock, hard again, poke into your thigh.

You look down between you, “This is a surprise. I thought you’d gotten old…”

“Like I said…” He grabs your waist and pulls you down to lie on your back. A yelp escapes your lips.

He is inside of you mere seconds after, causing you to longingly whine. He thrusts once then twice, and you throw your head back to take it, “…I’ve missed you.”

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