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look-at-the-soul · 9 months ago

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Every little thing you do - Part 6

Tommy Shelby x reader

Series master list

🥰So another part to this series, thank you so much for all your support and encouragement! It means the world ♥️ and as I take your feedback seriously, I can assure you Tommy will be looking for a housekeeper substitute 🤭

Word count: 3,138

Y/N prayed silently her dress would close, Ada suggested getting it slightly loose at certain places just in case, because overnight, her belly was showing and most of her clothes wouldn’t fit anymore. It was funny because it only looked as if she was bloated but it was enough for a zipper to break.

“You ready?” Polly asked just as she knocked on the door, stepping in right away. As usual, she looked so elegant in her attire.

“Her dress is beautiful Mrs. Gray.” Y/N’s grandma pointed out making Y/N blush, she then turned to Polly. “And you look stunning.”

Polly nodded acknowledging her compliment.

“I can’t believe I’m wearing this gown.” Y/N stated staring at her reflection in the mirror, she looked like a completely different person with her hair up in a simple but elegant hairstyle, make up in just the right places, accenting her features, and the dress fit like a glove. She had never had a dress like this.

“You need something else though.” Her grandma suggested, she looked beautiful in her attire too, the Shelby family were too kind to extend an invitation for her.

Opening her bag, Y/N frowned confused by what she meant, she had everything already.

“Your grandfather gave me these when we got married.” From a velvet pouch, she produced a pair of gorgeous diamond studs.

“I think these will look beautiful.” Polly encouraged, feeling a swept of love by the exchange.

Y/N on the other hand felt lost for words, to some it might be a small detail, but to her, the sentimental value it’s what weighted the most.

“These are meant to be wear on occasions like this, right?” She asked holding one of the earrings for her granddaughter while she hooked the other one.

“Looks like you’re all set then… let’s welcome the guests.” Polly added taking grandma’s purse to help her. “Everything’s going accordingly so far.”

The music filled the big room, people were dancing happily, champagne flowing, staff filling empty cups with booze and plates with appetizers. Y/N felt particularly mesmerized by the chandeliers catching the light beautifully and reflecting all around as if it was dancing as well.

Tommy insisted the party should take place in Arrow House, said it would be a good excuse to do a grand opening, so she immediately got busy to have everything ready. The place oozed luxury everywhere she looked, the most important names in the country RSVP’ed faster than she thought. Never in her wildest dreams she imagined how it would turn out, she spent so much time choosing flowers for the center pieces, napkins colors to go with the tablecloths, tableware as well as the menu, days of hard work paying off finally on this night and for a brief instant, she allowed herself to feel proud because she took care meticulously of everything.

“I’ll be back in a minute, need an ashtray.” Polly announced and took grandma by the arm to chat for a while.

Y/N was taking everything in, still not fully believing it was a reality.

“Johnny, get everyone in the kitchen.” He instructed. “Five minu-“ words got caught up in his throat as he took a double look to his left and found Y/N standing by herself next to the staircase.

Her hair was pinned up, framing her face so it was fully on display instead of hiding, the dress made her look gorgeous but the cherry on top was the glowing emanating from within her heart, pregnancy was suiting her well. He then noticed she opened and closed the handbag nervously.

She wasn’t the same girl that used to run with him a race at an open fiel until they reached the river. He let her win so many times… yet that girl was somehow still in her.

He had never seen her like that before. She was more beautiful than he imagined.

But as soon as the thought entered his mind, Tommy kicked himself mentally. He shouldn’t think of her that way.

“Are you planning to give someone a heart attack?” He joked and took a few long strides to be at her side.

“I’m nervous,” she chuckled, “I’m the one having a heart attack.”

Turning around to face him, she felt her mouth going dry, the blue suit was a fabulous choice. It wasn’t traditional, but when she saw it at the tailor’s shop she knew Tommy had to wear it to the event and since she got a blank cheque, she added it to the account. He was so bloody handsome, but she thought that he looked even more that night. There, with a cocked smile and proud shining in his crystal eyes…

They stood there holding each other’s gazes, the people in the background fading away…

Until Johnny Dogs interrupted them.

“The boys are on their way Tom.” He nodded at Y/N. “Are we going, yeah?”

Tommy gave Y/N another look and she encouraged him with a smile to go.

He started to walk away, but then stopped abruptly and turning around he spoke; “Y/N you did an amazing job, thank you.”

Reaching his expectations was all Y/N wanted to achieve, to make him proud of her work. It was the way she knew in retribution to thank him for every little thing he did.

“And Johnny? Y/N told me she counted the paintings ey?” Tommy turned to give her wink. “So you better tell your kin they can’t steal anything or they’ll have to deal with a very pissed Y/N.”

Y/N gasped, of course she didn’t count the paintings. An evident blush covered her face and neck and she started shaking her head in embarrassment.

“Hey! That’s not true.” She tried to keep her manners, but her mind went back to when they were teenagers and her grandma discovered the two of them sneaking into the kitchen to get a slice of the pie she had baked and Tommy blamed it all on Y/N, the worst part is that her grandma believed him and scolded her granddaughter when it had been Tommy’s idea in the first place.

“Where are they, ey?” Tommy asked impatiently a cigarette hanging from his mouth.

“I’m telling you now, we got lost,” announced Arthur. “You really need to do a map, Thomas.”

“Right, boys you’re all here.” Tommy started in a warning tone.

The blinders gathered around him in a circle.

“Tonight it’s a fucking very important day, we’re celebrating the Arrow House grand opening.”

“Yeah, and you said there’d be no bloody uniforms.” Interrupted John.

Tommy shot him a death stare. “Nevertheless… nevertheless, John… despite the bad blood, I’ll have none of it on my carpet.”

They were part of the guest list.

He made a pause and looked around to his men. “Now, for Y/N’s sake, nothing will go wrong. She has worked so fucking hard for everything you see tonight and the Shelby Institute. And if you fuckers do anything to embarrass her, your kin, your cousins, your horses, your fucking kids, you do anything…”

“Tom?” Once more, John interrupted his brother.

“What?”

“What about snow?” Asked Isiah.

John replied something that Tommy couldn’t understand, but he felt his blood start boiling by their silly attitude.

“No, no, no.” He stood in front of the young blinder. “No cocaine.” Then pointing at his face, he repeated; “no cocaine. No sports.” He then moved to point at John. “No telling fortunes. No racing.” Walking back towards Finn, he continued. “No fucking sucking petrol of their fucking cars.”

He hated to admit it out loud, but he was nervous to. He wanted to fit in, he needed to blend in among the richest and more powerful people, to be one of them. To prove everybody that he had been able to claim a stair that was only reserved for those who were born in a crib made of gold.

Meanwhile, upstairs Y/N attended several guests, listening to the stories they were sharing about how much it would mean to them to donate and give back to the community. Some of them, Y/N learned were important politicians who wanted to show a good image to help them gain voters, others members of the aristocracy just wanted to show their wealthy off. Whatever reason they had, Y/N was excited to see some of the cheques they were writing right there for the institution, additional to a monthly donation they promised.

Finding Tommy among the guests, Y/N approached him to ask him if she could save the cheques in his office.

“Can we see this later?” He relief not even sending a glance in her direction, his eyes were fixed like daggers in someone.

As he moved around like a gazelle, about to chase his pry, Y/N noticed a group of women eating him with their eyes, looking him up and down, seizing his frame, biting their lips, probably wondering how would it feel to be with him….

Y/N felt like she was out of place, she shook her head and decided to ask Ada instead where she should keep the documents. She then excused herself for a moment, feeling like the happy bubble had been popped given Tommy’s cold attitude. He was never like this, he had never left her talking alone before, but he had been a bit off the last couple of days.

For some unknown reason.

Perhaps she had been creating a fantasy in her mind, yes he was a good man, but he also had an explosive temper when he wanted to, he snapped at people at the slightest provocation. Why would he treat her differently? Just because a she was pregnant?

A knock on the door disturbed the peace she just found, and without waiting to be asked to come inside, Tommy called her name.

“Y/N you’re needed downstairs.” Tommy informed her, but he knew her too damn well. When Ada told him that Y/N was taking a minute on her own, he knew she wasn’t comfortable about something.

“What happened?” He asked patiently. She shook her head, not wanting to make a scene. “Hey, hey.. come here.”

It was everything, her pregnancy, her nerves, the bloody hormones, mood swings, worry to make everything perfect… him.

“I hope you don’t take personally what happened earlier, I was looking for someone that wasn’t invited.” Tommy explained.

Y/N looked at him tentatively. She walked into the en-suite bathroom to wet a cloth and press it into the back of her neck, careful enough to not get a stain in the dress, he followed her steps and took a seat on the edge of the bathtub. The familiarity and comfort between them was too personal.

“Is this why you’ve been acting distant the last couple of days?”

With a sigh, he nodded. “Yes, I act like this when I’m scared.”

Y/N turned around pondering into his words, giving him time and space to speak on his own terms.

“I need to make sure you’re away from this business. I don’t want you to get involved at all. Do you understand?”

“Tommy what’s happening?” It all made sense to her now, the secret phone calls, the late night drives, his mood.

“The less you know, the better.” He cleared his throat. “Promise me you won’t make something stupid.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, he was the one always making the bad decisions she wanted to say instead.

“You won’t get involved.” He was firm about his statement.

“Only if you promise to be safe.” Y/N retorted.

“I’ll try my best.” A soft smile played on his lips.

She mirrored the smile and followed him outside, to join their guest one more time.

“Mr. Shelby! This is a wonderful party.” Mrs. Lewis praised, she was the wife of a former major, a bit extravagant, she loved to show off. “And a beautiful house.”

“I appreciate your words. But all the credit goes to Y/N.”

“So the old wives tale is real huh? That babies come with a bunch of blessings.” She squinted her eyes happily at Y/N’s baby bump, then looked back at Tommy. “Congratulations! I wish this baby nothing but the best.”

Y/N opened her mouth to correct her, and clarify that Tommy wasn’t the father. But Tommy cut her out.

“Thanks, hopefully you’ll be able to help us with the fundraising.”

“I’ll tell family and friends, you can count on that Mr. Shelby.”

As the woman disappeared, Y/N turned her face around to look at him.

“Let people talk, they’re going to do it anyways.” He stated, then as a waiter passed by, he took a glass of whiskey from the tray. “Rule number two; never reveal the truth when they can barely deal with a half truth.”

“What’s number one?”

“Oh, I’d tell you… but then I’d have to kill you and I’d be kind of sad you know?” He winked at her and elegantly strode towards where the music band was playing to grab the microphone.

“Good evening everyone, thank you for joining us tonight. As some of you may know, the Shelby Foundation Institute will open doors in a couple of weeks, we’re sure with this project we’ll be able to help many many children in need, grant them the education their parents can’t afford and a safe environment to learn and develop the abilities that’ll will help them in a near future.” A round of applauses filled the room and Tommy thanked the guest with a small nod. “Your contribution is highly appreciated, it will allow us to complement and provide everything that’s needed. I can assure you, your money will be well spent and we’re more than open to welcome you any time at the Institution.” His eyes started moving across the room. “Last but not least, I’d like to thank to the responsible of this project, the one who since day one showed a genuine interest and despite the doors that were closed in her face, she never backed down until this was a reality. Y/N thank you for everything you’ve done.” Raising his glass in her direction, he recognized her effort and compromise.

Blushing from getting all the attention towards her momentarily, she started biting her lip.

When Tommy started walking, people over to the side, making something similar to a human wall and leaving a space free for him to walk until he reached Y/N.

“Dance with me?”

The gesture took her by surprise, but soon Tommy’s arm wrapped around her waist and he started swaying to the beat of the music.

“Everything is perfect, thank you for taking care of every little thing.” He admitted with a very rare smile.

Carefully to not make Y/N dizzy, Tommy spun her around, following the music beats.

“Thank you for taking us in.” Y/N replied as a wide smile spread on her lips.

Feeling like nothing she could say or do was enough to thank Tommy. She’d be in debt with him for the rest of her life.

“You’ve nothing to-” he started to say but she cut him off.

“I do, every single time I blink, I feel so grateful to have you in my life.”

Tommy gave her hand a squeeze. “If things were different… wouldn’t you do the same?”

“Yes.” She admitted in a heartbeat.

“Then this better be the last time you thank me.” He raised an eyebrow as a warning, but his eyes remained giving her a gentle look. “I know you’d do the same thing for me.”

One more careful spin and the piece was done. A round of applause filled the room and the background noises brought them back to reality.

“I’ve to go, stay here, stay safe.” Tommy stated. “You know what to do in case something bad happens.”

He had already showed her where to hide in case anyone broke into Arrow House. It wasn’t his favorite outcome, but he had assured her it was for the best of she was prepared. Luckily he hadn’t show her how to use a weapon, but she knew the day might be closer than she thought.

“Tommy…” her heart started hammering her ribcage, she could feel it in her ears too. “Promise me you’ll be safe.”

The look of worry he found in her eyes made him fight the lump in his throat. If something happened to him, what would she do? Who would protect her? Who’d look after her and the baby?

“Will do. This is the last ilegal business, you know I want to make it right.”

Clearing his throat, he looked around finding Arthur giving him a nod, they were ready to go.

“I’ll be back before you know it.” He assured her once more.

As a different music started to play, Y/N went on to search for her grandmother.

Meanwhile, downstairs Lizzie was crying and smocking in such a bad shape after having a word with Michael about Angel, she started shouting when she heard what they did to his restaurant, she was fuming.

“Miss Stark can I help you?” Mary asked, smoothing her apron.

“Do you’ve a gun? So I can shoot someone?” Lizzie wiped her nose.

“No ma’am.” Mary took a step closer. “May I ask what happened?”

“The Shelbys blew my boyfriend’s restaurant so he couldn’t come to the party.” She tried to smooth the black mascara under her eyes.

And she started to whine and bent into the maid all she knew about the stupid rivalry between the Shelby’s and the Changretta’s.

Mary ignored Lizzie’s past, she only knew she was her master’s secretary, so she felt naturally bad for the green-eyed woman.

“I don’t get it, Thomas gets to have the little happy family with Y/N and also dictate who am I able to be involved with.”

“But they aren’t a family, the baby isn’t Mr. Shelby’s.” Mary dropped an unexpected bomb.

Lizzie stared at her in disbelief, her jaw dropping.

“Are you sure?”

“The motives of why he keeps her under his protection are unknown to me, but he isn’t the father of that baby.” The housekeeper assured her.

Lizzie nodded automatically, processing the news and thinking how this piece of information changed a lot of things.

“So Y/N is a little slut after all.” She mumbled to herself, planning in her mind a couple of ideas that would tear down that facade of integrity and good morals Y/N carried around like a crown. A woman’s reputation meant much more than anything.

And of course, it didn’t match the wealthy people standards.

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melancholicstation · 2 months ago

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You heard my baby's back in town now! — controversially young!gf bobby kennedy one-shot

imagine... you are bobby kennedy's controversially young girlfriend who he met at a an oregon mall during his brother's campaign for president in 1959. fast forward a few months and you're finally taking the next step in your relationship: meeting the family.

taglist: @obsessedwithjohnjr @rocker-chick-7 @ultr4v1ol3nt @violetharmonsfavgf @strip-weather-forecast @darcyspirits @fortheloveofjos @h-l-v-kennedy-blog @h-l-vlovesvintage @bluelancergirl @snowsgames @salvatoresablondie @dulcegal @kennedyism @bloxholden35 @kimcrystal123 @astro-vibes-bro @absurdlyvintage @jackiesgirl @unmarlou @joansiesbeloved @jackiesgirl @acrowdedstreetin1944 @miumiumoods @yeuxdenina @its-esdras @jacobseresin @yspix7y @violetharmonsfavgf @vampyiricris @harajukub4rb1e @ironcowboycopnickel @valleyxdoll @angelitawings @monturi @starsprangledgirl

inspired by @unmarlou's age gap!bobby kennedy, go give this blog some ♥️ .

warnings: heavy mention of age-gap, multiple flashbacks, uses lyrics from Taco Truck x VB, use of terms of endearment, period typical sexism (not bobby)

words: 2,862

Most of the time you wouldn't say holding down a 9 to 5 at one of the biggest breakfast chains in middle America was an exciting career endeavour for a 22 year old woman but here you were. That was until you met him: your boyfriend of six months who'd shown himself to be a great lover and an even better giver, always draping you in the finest of mulberry silk and yellow diamond. You weren't shallow though, you would've loved him the same if all he had were the clothes on his back and that floppy hair of his.

However you wouldn't have to because he had the ultimate privilege or curse, many would go on to say, of being born into one of the richest families in America, and was the brother of the Democratic Party pick for president in 1960. Oh, and his name was Bobby Kennedy.

*Flashback to December 5th, 1959*

After working your job at Waffle house for about 2 weeks you knew it was hell, filled with grimy men hitting on you with their dirty pickup lines their dad probably taught them at age 15, that bitch of a co-worker, and a drab work attire that your boss, Susan, seemed to have affinity for catching any slight deviations of. Superficially it was mostly the outfit requirements that bothered you: I mean how were you ever supposed to leave this damned place if your own uniform made sure that no person, regardless of gender, would ever humanly find you attractive.

Despite this, you persevered and tried to work around it. If your boss told you to wear a plain blue top: you wore a lightly stripped blue button-up with featuring an embroidered, ruffled star motif on the chest. If your boss told you to wear heather grey bottoms: you wore an extremely short dark navy skort with built in shorts for the so called modesty striven for in the dress code. I mean for christ sakes this wasn't the White House now was it?

You often pared the dreary outfit with a pair of suede ballerina's in navy: a bit of an oxymoron where your mother was concerned due to the nearly perpetual state of wetness synonymous with Oregon lately. Adorning your neck with the one staple in your jewellery escapes: an antique scapular on black silk cord.

Slinging your bag over your shoulder defiantly: a bag so filled to the brim that it didn't look so much like a bag anymore and more like a rather large and rather worn sack. However you did attempt to beautify its exterior by applying randomised trinkets to it's complexion such as: a statement cross pendant held together with leather twine, a religious pocket book passed down from your grandmother on your Spanish side, and a stone rosary.

Departing from the trinkets adoring the handles of your bag, the once smooth leather of the bag was now covered in tiny hole marks from the pins of the buttons you so religiously adorned your bag with. Many—who were you kidding, all were of John F. Kennedy and his running mate Lyndon B. Johnson. Now you weren't so much of a fan of Johnson as you were of Kennedy but you were seldom able to find ones of Jack by himself. That's why the ones of jack stayed front and centre, with the ones of Johnson meandering in the background, wrapping around the sides of the leather.

It had been a couple hours of your shift before you granted yourself the masochistic reflex of checking the time: counting down the length of time until you were free.

Checking the clock you realise it had not in fact been hours, in reality it had only been an hour and three minutes. Boy time really just flies by when you're serving up cheesesteak melt has brown bowls at five-thirty in the morning: I mean seriously what kind of sicko does that?, and getting hit on by men who look like they could've been your father.

That was until you hear that disntict clink of the door chin: alerting you to a new customer. Exasperated with, well—life, you look up already annoyed. Annoyed until you meet the hilarious sight of a strange man crouched under a comically small umbrella, surrounding by some very self-important all dressed in suit and tie: a stark contrast to the typical male style expected of in Oregon.

Before you can catch a glimpse of the man he's herded into a booth far out of your range of sight. Despite being interested your attention is called for when a woman orders a hot coffee to-go. Y'know, it did always suck when you had to do your actual job and not just people watch for a living.

Out of nowhere two voices come within your earshot,

"No, Tim—I can do it myself. God damn it! You people treat me like a child, I can order my own food." a voice expressed that somehow towed that line between being intrinsically feminine and masculine at the same time.

The other voice begrudgingly backs off but continues,

"I know you're not a child Bob, but I'm trying to help you. Y'know that's kind of my job as advisor, to advise you on shit."

"Fine. You go do it, i'll wait over here like a dog." ,the voice says expressing a particular strain of annoyance you had yet to hear vocalised until that moment.

This man has an advisor? What the he—

"Hey-Uh, could I get a pecan waffle and a dark roast coffee."

Surprised for a moment, you compose yourself and reply "Sure, coming right up."

Shuffling into the back with the intention to tell the cook the order, and then maybe take a cheeky smoke from your bag in the meantime. Maybe.

After telling the cook, you find yourself b-lining for your bag. Getting to your bag, you start fiddling for a lighter that was until you hear a peculiar set of shuffling feet suspiciously close to you.

That's when you realise that you completely missed, on your mission for your bag, a real human man leaning his back against the bag rack.

"Oh-Mary and Joseph—you nearly gave me a heart attack."

The figure, and the face comes into your range of sight and your semi totally mortified. The president-to-be's brother had just seen you try to go for a smoke.

"Oh I'm sorry I just don't like the noises. Forks scraping on plates gives me the chills." the man chuckles.

In politeness you chuckle back, in order to get the elephant out of the room you say,

"Now you're Robert Kennedy aren't you?"

"In the flesh" he says with a quite sassy display of his hands, patting himself on the chest in an act to display his human quality.

"Well I have to say I'm enamoured by your brother's campaign, he's doing so wonderfully."

"Thank you, well I happen to think so too. But I'm a bit biased—y'know it's kind of in my job description. I pegged you for a jack supporter."

"How so?"

"Oh I don't know, maybe the pins on that bag of yours gave me a bit of a clue."

Mortified you look away that was, until, he redirects your head movements with his hand turning your chin back to his with the divine authority of a man much older than you. Though you're not repulsed by that fact, in all reality it's quite the opposite.

"Hey-Hey hey don't be embarrassed. I think it's awfully cute of you, though I wish you didn't have so many of that Johnson and maybe one of me." ,he says in a tone that carries the passion of a thousand un-spoken grievances, peeking your curiosity.

Lifting his hand off your chin, he lightly pets your hair: much like you assume he would do to perhaps a Boston terrier or a bengal kitten. With that same tenderness.

"I better let you get back to work. I'm sure you don't want some old man like me keeping you from your job"

Bashfully you smile, subtly shaking your head in retort. However he does raise a good point, such a good point in fact that it has you turning your heels back in the direction of the front counter. But not before turning your head slightly back—subtly saying goodbye with a smile and a slight wave of the fingertips, to which he mirrors with a sheepish, smug grin.

By the time your shift ends your exhausted and love sick over that man, whom you had only had in your presence for a bijou length of time but had been pondering about for hours.

Reaching for your bag before officially clocking out, you notice a new edition to your bag. A bright white and navy blue pin labelled 'Robert F. Kennedy for Vice President' surprised enough already, you're positively baffled to find a small engraving of a number etched into the backside of the pin.

What was on it, you may ask? Well, Robert F. Kennedy's phone number no less,

And that's how it started.

*End of flashback*

There were moments when you were faced with the awkward societal magnifying glass put on your relationship, and increased ten fold because of your scandalous age gap. I mean come on, it was only twelve years. It wasn't that bad. Though there were times you were reminded every now and then of the twelve year generational divide between you two, like in the instance of when he found that pesky little shoe-box underneath your bed.

*Start of flashback*

"Look at me"

"No I simply cannot bear it, Bobby!" you muffle out, the sound muddled due to your mousy blonde curls interference.

"C'mon, sweetie. It's nothing to be ashamed about, you're a grown young woman. I expected this from you, I'd be weirded out if you didn't partake in this sort of stuff. It's endearing, I promise." ,bobby teases, making a big show of his "promise" by dramatically holding out his arms in a prayer motion.

An action you find less than funny: ending with Bobby getting a pillow through straight towards his head, to which he dodges with ease.

What had caused this whole mess was that you'd tasked Bobby with the mission of finding that cotton camisole he'd so recklessly strewn across your bedroom in the throws of your shared passion. It was your belief that if he did it he should fix it.

However that adventure had led to bobby finding a particularly embarrassing set of erotic books hidden in a shoebox. Each with a more embarrassingly brazen title than it's former.

You had never seen him laugh so much than that day.

"Honey, I'm not laughing at you. It's just-y'know back in my day we never had this. We had to use our imagination, oh how times are changing. It's exciting really" he says adopting a semi sarcastic tone that borders on mocking.

His comments cause you to sulk even more, retreating into yourself perched at the foot of the bed, "Bobby don't be mad, I don't even read that stuff now! not with you. I was so in-experienced back then , I had no idea about anything."

"Oh baby, c'mere" he motions you to him, eventually gathering you up into a bundle and takes you into his lap.

Combing through your hair he explains "Baby of course I'm not made at you. How could I be? with such a pretty face like this. Y'know I'm glad you had those books, though I do like keeping you all to my self. And I certainly don't want to share you with any fictional man." he says in an order to lighten up the room, while dabbing slightly at your cheeks

"Don't cry pretty girl, I hate to see you cry, it hurts me, hurts me real bad. I know you don't wanna hurt me now do ya? Huh?"

Nodding, you compose yourself slightly and lay your head timidly on his chest: slightly hairy and stunk of an addictive sort of musk.

Your slightly moved when he moves his body trying to get something out of his pocket

"Princess, look what I found!"

And there it was your favourite cotton camisole, back in your possession. Sometimes you didn't know how he did it, he just did.

*End of flashback*

And that's how your relationship went for six months. Though it was hard to maintain a relationship being that he was in such a different life stage than you, and coupled with the fact that he was on a gruelling campaign trail with his brother. To be honest most days he would come and see you, you'd just lay in bed soaking up each other's presence. On the days you would venture outside as a couple you got more than a couple looks, and you had your fair share of unfavourable coverage in the media being that you were the controversially young girlfriend by the side of the man who's brother was on track to become president of the United States. But you both brush it off, you knew your truths.

You hadn't seen bobby in two whole weeks and you were beginning to get desperate. Though it wasn't like he was depriving you, he stuck to a strict schedule of calling you every day at seven in the evening: no matter rain or shine. Some times he would catch you eating a late dinner, for which he would scold you about adopting the tone he used in those senate meetings. And others where he would catch you in bed early, and one thing would lead to another. Thank god that you both had been smart enough to check for wiretapping, or else it would've made you two more of social piranhas than you already were...

And sure enough at seven pm, your phone rang off the hook,

"Hey baby, how are ya? Tell me all about what a sweet girl like you was doing all day? I wanna hear it all, leave no detail out." he says in a tone that reveals his true earnest nature that you've come to so cherish in your relationship.

So, you indulge him, "Honey, I got up so early, and then, I got into the shower"

He hums attentively down the line, encouraging you to tell him what you did next: to which you inform him that you took a nap mid-day, "I was just able to go back to sleep for a hour and a half. So that rocked, um, anyway."

"Did ya dream of anything special?" he says while shifting in his leather chaise seat: you assumed he was halted up in his hotel in some nameless city along the trail.

"I had this dream where, um, I don't know-" you trail off sharing some half-baked dream that you weren't sure you comprehend yourself. Apologising you ask about his day,

"Oh sweetie, don't apologise I asked, I wanted to know. I did want to talk about something with you though. Y'know how Jack is coming back to Oregon before the primary. Well, I thought what better a time to introduce you to my family. They'll just adore you baby, I promise just like I do."

Blushing and taken by surprise you bashfully reply, of course agreeing.

"That's great, you'll do amazing. Though, I do have to warn you about their line of questioning. They have a penchant for sort of quizzing girls that I take home about world events, it's like a sport to them-my parents I mean, my siblings will be just fine to handle. I just want you to be prepared."

"Okay, well what kind of events. Like events in your times?" you say sarcastically.

"Okay, Miss Attitude. I'm not from the 1890s, y'know we're only a decade apart. But I'll quiz you when I visit you in a couple days. I'll make it real easy for you, put in some recent events that you know: though you're a smart cookie you'll get it in no time baby."

"Bob, you're making me very nervous. They're not going to go too hard on me right?"

"Oh my sweet, you'll get used to them. They make a big fuss but they're relatively harmless, they'll see how happy you make me and that'll be the end of it. Promise."

After his assurances, you were left unbridled with happiness after you hung up the phone. I mean how hard could it be to charm a family like the Kennedys, they seemed nice enough? You charmed one of their sons so how troublesome could it really be? Jackie looked warm and open in the newspaper, Joan looked a delight and Jack well I'm sure you could bate your eye at him and he would be sufficiently pleased at your presence. Though that left out the parents, which were often the hardest of the bunch when fulfilling the daunting duty of meeting the family, you were sure it would be Bobby assured you so.

And why would he ever need to lie to you?

signing off: bang, bang xx

#part 2 anyone ... or no #rfk x you #rfk x reader #rfk fanfic #rfk fanfiction #robert f kennedy x reader #rpf #kennedy rpf #political rpf #rpf political #rpf fanfiction #x reader #x you #smut #kennedy fanfiction #kennedy fanfic #dw bobby's not evil ... his parents are though!#bobby kennedy x reader

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outsidersandlostboys · 9 months ago

Text

MORE CHAOS (part 7 I think?)

Once again thank you for the support on these ♥️

Y/n: Is stabbing someone bad?

Paul: Not if they consent to it

Marko: Depends on who your stabbing

David and Dwayne: YES?!

(Special guest star Michael!)

Y/n: hey Michael, what do you think is the height of most dumbasses?

Michael: *Looks at David* How tall are you again?

Marko: Y/n do you know what’s in this bottle?

Y/n: my guess is whiskey, blood or perfume

Paul: *chugs bottle* It’s perfume

Marko and Y/n: PAUL WHAT THE FUCK?!

Michael: Y/n is something burning?

Y/n: just my burning love for you boys!

Dwayne: Y/N THE STOVE IS ON FIRE

Y/n: *clutching a pill bottle* it’s just me and my ibuprofen against the world

Marko: okay you need to sleep

*the boys helping clean Y/n’s house*

David : alright pick up the nearest piece of trash and throw it away

Paul to Y/n: Aight, which bin do you wanna go in?

Y/n: the blue one

Dwayne: PAUL AND Y/N WTF

Marko : Y/n has no idea I’m high

Y/n: You’re high?

Marko : Oh, I’m sorry

Marko leaning over to Paul: Y/n has no idea I’m high :)

Dwayne massaging his temples: Y/n go to sleep, you’re drunk

Y/n: I’m not drunk! I’m high

Dwayne: you’re high?

Y/n: Hi :)

Dwayne: Do you guys ever have a moment where you don’t insult each other?

David : No

Y/n: No

Dwayne: Didn’t think so

David: of course you did

Y/n: shut up David

David: you first, weirdo

Y/n: okay wine mom Barbara

David: YOU TAKE THAT BACK-

*Something crashes*

Y/n: SHIT-

Paul and Dwayne: *running into the room panicking * WHAT FELL?! ARE YOU HURT?!

David: *walking by the room* what died?

Y/n: I found a safety pin

*cuts off end*

Y/n: NOW ITS A DANGER PIN!

David: Y/N NO! PUT THAT DOWN!

Dwayne: Y/n how much sleep did you get last night?

Y/n (running on half an hour of sleep): Yes.

Dwayne: Ok. You need to sleep weirdo child

Paul: “Hey Y/n did you wanna go to the-WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO YOU?!”

Y/n: *holding hair clippers* •^•

Paul: YOUR HAIR Y/N *sobs in 80’s perm*

Max: slay

David: sometimes my children are idiots but they mean well

Paul: WE’RE GONNA GO DOWN THE STAIRS IN A SHOPPING CART WOOOO

David: *opens flask and chugs it*

Omg I’m alive! Sorry for not posting in a while, life has been chaotic as heck lately but here’s some more chaos with the Lost Boys lol

#the lost boys #i love them #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #marko the lost boys #the lost boys x reader

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redr0sewrites · 9 months ago

Note

(Tumblr kicked me out in the middle of me writing this ask I'm so sorry if you receive this twice 😭)

I JUST READ YOUR STRIKER HEADCANONS AND IM DROOLING RN

I think he likes it when you make him fight for it sometimes. He likes the power struggle. Wrestle with him in bed, make him hold you down, make him tie your wrists together to keep you from flipping him over. If he wants to dom you, make him earn it.

Also? Heavy on the gunplay. It's never loaded of course and you have a safeword should you ever need it, but seeing that little twinge of fear in your eyes when you realize you can't keep fighting him, he won, you're powerless, AND he has a gun pressed against your temple? Delicious. Makes him feel strong.

Could I maybe request something like this?

yes oh my god this is literally what i was thinking when i made those hcs NONNIE U READ MY MIND ♥️

🥀Cw: smut, a bit of fluff, established relationship/consent, reader is gn but there is one use of m'am/sir, powerplay, scratching, biting, gun kink, overall filth

🥀minors dni

you collapse against the bed as striker pins you down, beating you easily in yet another wrestling match. the mattress dips from your combined weight, and striker used the opportunity to lean down, whispering against your neck. the combination of thefeeling of his breath ticking your sensitive skin and his raspy voice makes you shjver. "aww, how sweet," striker coos, mockingly tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "did ya really think y'could beat me, poppet?" you squirm beneath him, his hips planted firmly above you with his thighs caging you in place. you buck your hips upwards, eliciting a hiss from striker as you grind against his prominent buldge. his tail rattles slightly, curling up around your thigh as, with one hand, he grabs you wrists and pins them down above your head.

"fucking brat," striker spat, using his free hand to grab your face, forcing you to look at him. his cowboy hat tipped forward, falling of his head as he leaned down to kiss you messily. you giggle when the hat falls to the side, but the giggle soon melts into a moan as striker grinds down against you. "fuck, doll, look what you do t'me.." striker murmurs against your lips, and you let him slip his tongue into the cavern of your mouth as the hand on your face travels down to your neck.

suddenly, with all your might, you push up against him, attempting to flip him over onto his back. striker lets out a throaty chuckle, tsking when you whine out his name. "y'wanna be on top, sugar? too damn bad," his voice transcends into a growl as he makes quick work of your pants and undergarments. he pulls apart from you to quickly undress himself, and while you remove your top, you also use the time to admire his toned body. "like what ya see?" striker smirks, crawling on top of you again, his hands finding purchase on your supple thighs. he gives your ass an appreciative squeeze before gently teasing your entrance with a finger. "y'ready?" he asks, his voice adopting a softer, serious tone. "if ya want to stop, we always can." you smile, grabbing his hand and pulling it closer to your needy hole. "i know, striker. and i know what i want- i want you, and i want you to touch me." the corner of his mouth twitches, fighting off a crazed grin. "y'really are such a doll, y'know that?" striker whispers huskily, plunging a finger into you. you gasp at the pleasurable intrusion, soon accompanied by a second finger as he stretches you out.

"o-oh! ffuck-" you gasp, keening as he curls his fingers with mind numbing accuracy. striker brushes your hair out of your eyes, watching your face twist in pleasure as you pant. he can feel you practically sucking in his fingers, and a sudden idea strikes him. "open up," striker commands, grabbing his gun from the bedside table. your hole clenches around his fingers and you throb at the sight of the weapon. without hesitation you open your mouth, drool pooling on the edge of your lips as he shoves the gun into your mouth. you gasp, shocked by the cold sensation of the metal against your tongue. you can feel your orgasm approaching fast, the coil in your abdomen squeezing tighter by the second.

suddenly, striker pulls his hand away, relishing in the muffled, needy whimper that slips past your lips. "aw, d'worry poppet," he chuckles, pumping his cock a few times before aligning himself with your hole. "i'd never leave ya unsatisfied". striker thrusted in slowly, watching as your aching hole swallows his cock in a vice-like grip. "o-oh!" you gasp airily, thighs clamping around his waist as you claw down his back. striker begins to move, slowly but surely thrusting into you as you adjust to his size. it takes everything in him not to loose all restraint and fuck you senseless, especially with the way your moaning his name like a prayer. your hole was tightening around him and your wanton moans grew louder and louder, signifying that you were close.

you clench around him impossibly tight, the pleasure becoming almost unbearable. "striker- oh fuucnghh-" you gasp, your words muffled by the gun stil in your mouth as the coil in your abdomen snaps. your mind went perfectly blank as you ride out your high, striker cursing up a storm as his orgasm follows immediately after you. he pulls out, spilling his seed onto your stomach and chest.

striker gently pulls the gun from your mouth as you come down from your euphoric high, wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes and gently massaging your sore jaw.

"y'okay, bubs?" striker asked, gently cupping your face as he collapses beside you. "mhm," you murmur, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his nose. "just a lil' tired..." striker chuckles at your reply, gently kissing your forehead. suddenly, an idea struck you, and you crawl on top of him. striker watches you with amusement as you straddle him, his teeth glinting in the moonlight streaming in from outside your window.

"not too tired for round two, i see," striker snarks, and you shush him. "if you want to cum, then i suggest you stop talking," you reply, and striker swallows hard. "yes m'am/sir," he whispers, wetting his lips as you grind down against him. "i promise i'll behave," he murmurs, eyes glistening with lust as his hands travel to grip your thighs. "we'll see about that," you reply, already knowing your in for a long night.

I HAD TO HYPE MYSELF UP FOR THIS ONE 😭 this will probably have a pt2 w sub striker cuz i cant resist the opportunity- sorry i haven't posted in like a week ive been fighting demons (anxiety and burnout 😭) but i really wanted to finish this! i have a few more wips that will be posted soon, and im considering adding marvel/the mcu to the list of fandoms i write for cuz ive been falling back into my marvel phase lmao. ANYWAYSSSS I HOPE U ENJOYED!!!!

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tmwcs · 1 year ago

Text

"Turn Around..."

One shot fic. (Not relating to any of the established series.) This is a bit different from what I normally draft up, kind of like the Robin Hood one shot, which is also a non-yandere fic like this one. Pls enjoy.

Thank you for taking the time and reading my stories and drabbles. To show your support, please consider donating into my ko-fi account ♥️

Warnings: Unprotected smut, breakup, lovers reunited, makeup sex, rough sex, a little bit of angst, taken for granted, apologetic make lead, regretful male lead, and drama. "Dont know what you got till it's gone" type vibe. not proofread but figured i'd get this out to keep yall busy until i get the next chapter of TO out 😉

Summary: You and Heeseung had a break up, despite all that has happened, you find out that you weren't the only one hurting.

“Hey.” he stands calmly at the door. You avoid making eye contact, too nervous and shy on what to say. A bit of a ridiculous notion considering you knew the man very well, dated for quite some time in fact, yet the lack of his efforts drove you to the point where you had to kill off the relationship, for our own happiness. The only issue was, that you’re not sure if you’re any happier now than you were when dating him. Nodding, you respond back with a soft “hey…”

Walking in, his initiative causes you to walk back. He lets himself in and gently shuts the door behind, never breaking his sight away from you. You kept shifting your sight from one area on the floor, to another. He continues to take his steps forward, and you keep taking them back. Soon, he has you pinned against the wall. Palming the wall, one hand off to each side, he traps you in his arms and leans in, wanting to get closer. You dip down and swoop under his arm to get away freely into the open space, walking over to the living room, much to his grimace dismay.

Sitting on one end of the couch, you cross your legs and prop your hands up to rest your chin. Intent on avoiding eye contact, you look away and kept your face in the opposite direction. He walks over calmly and sits next to you.

“Y/n….”

“Heeseung stop. Could you please just get your things and go? I’m not in the mood to talk.” you snap, rubbing your temples as you adjust your body to shift up and away, standing before the tall window, waiting for him to move along and to get out. But he doesn't.

Looking up from where you were just sitting, he remains on the couch wide eyed and slightly appalled. Sure, he went along with the break up, even dabbled and went on some dates even though you both had just broken up merely two weeks ago. However, it didn’t mean that he wasn’t hurting either. He only went and saw other girls just to try and take his mind off of you, but how are you supposed to know? He left you no choice, you didn’t ever see your relationship coming to an end. You worked and tried to get through to him, but he never listened, so then you were left with no choice but to break things off, yet you couldn’t help but feel stabbed when his nonchalant attitude and response to your initiation was given, almost too easily, as if he was thinking about breaking up himself.

Seeing you standing in that silk camisole dress, lazily covered with the matching satin short robe over it, had him feeling some type of way. How long has it been since he saw you like this? No makeup, hair laying freely and barely dressed. You looked so beautiful, stunning in fact, and yet your body language and attitude made you achievable for him to grab hold on. Did he really lose you for good?

“Y/N…” he tries once more, keeping a respectable distance away, so as to not add any fuel to the fire. “Can’t we just talk?”

That did it for you. NOW, he wants to talk? Now? After seeing a handful of girls, pretending like you no longer mattered after you presented him with the words “I’m not sure if this is working out…I wished you would just be more considerate, yet you just always put me off to the side. Maybe we should consider a brea–”

Remember the tone he had in his voice, he cut you off and finished your sentence, almost as if he was eager and looking forward to the word…as if he was taking your initiation as an opportunity to end everything without having to do the dirty work himself. “Break? Yeah sure, I think that would be good for us.” he told you. Never once trying to figure out the meaning behind your initiative, nor did he ever try to fight for you. But now, it seems he had a change of heart, but you weren’t wanting to hear any of it. Not after having a string of girls by his side the last few nights. What were you? A rebound? Were you just a safety net since it didn’t work out with those girls? What is this?

Turning away, you snapped in a harsh tone. “No!”

“What?” His voice was a little more firm, and he seemed a bit irritated by your attitude.

“I said no. I don't want to talk.”

“Why are you–” he pauses. “Y/n…you act like you’re the only one that is affected by all this. You’re not. I’m struggling too, you know.”

“Yeah, I can tell. You’re hurting so much, how many girls did you seek out for comfort? Five? We’ve only broken up two weeks ago and you never once wanted to talk, until now.”

Standing from his seat, he grew offended by your words and replaced his soft and gentle gaze with a more stern and harsh one. Walking over to you, he nearly traps you in as he breaches your personal space and begins to walk you back to the wall, again.

“What? You think those girls meant something? Seriously?”

“Are you kidding me? Don’t pretend you’re hurting, you nearly jumped for joy when I brought up the idea of taking a break. You think I don’t know? Get over yourself Heeseung!” Turning sharply, you try to get away from him, but his movements are quick and he restricts your fleeing attempts by hugging you from behind. You struggle and try to break free, yet the moment he pushes forward with you grasped in his arms, shoving you up against the wall chest first and his chin resting on your shoulder, burying his face in your neck, you begin to falter, but mentally maintain your resistance. Taming you, he senses your physical strength decreasing front he struggles, and continues to push you in, resting you on the flat surface as he closes the distance between your backside and his chest. Stroking his thumb, he caresses your waist as he hugs tightly. With small brush strokes of his lip, he softly pecks on the soft area of your neckline.

“Stop…” You whimper out, trying to ignore the beautiful sensation of how his lips felt gently kissing, and sucking on your skin. “Stop…please….get away…”

“You really want me to get away?” he mumbles, with a mouth full of your delicate skin in his mouth. “Then say it. Tell me in all sincerity that you want me to stop and I’ll leave.”

With your arms pinned to your body by his embrace, you reach up and lean your palms against the wall, pressing your body against his. You tilt your head back, resting it against his shoulder, you didn’t want him to stop, nor did you want him to leave. But you had to be strong, for the sake of mending your broken heart. So, with a shaky breath, you whined out.

“Get away…” you nearly whispered, your hair draping over your face and your robe coming undone, bearing the nakedness of your shoulders and cleavage. “Just…get away…”

A slight pause was present, before he leans in and resumes his efforts as he takes in a mouthful of your soft skin, just below your ear, this time he was less gentle and more rough in his manners.

“I said no….” you whimpered. His arms tightened around your arms and waist, and he slightly lifts you before shoving you further up against the wall, pressing your cheek to rest against the surface before whispering in your ear…

“I don't believe you.”

Shooting his hand around, he lifts the hem of your camisole up and fingers his way through panties. He called you out on your bluff and you didn’t seem to mind, because now you get to show how much you missed him, that you didn’t want to leave. You get to show him that you were hurting, and that he left you without any options or hope to continue forward, that you were just at the lowest part of your life. He knew it too. He wasn’t being his best self with you, in fact he was selfish and led you with so many false promises, it’s no wonder you proposed a break up. It didn’t hit him until you started to usher out those words, but before you could finish, he beat you to the punch, all because he saved himself from the heartbreak of hearing you say it, so he had to say it first. Figuring he would save himself by hurting you, then to be hurt directly, he found that it was all for nothing. Right after walking away and leaving you to go on your own, a sharp pain hits him inside, and he immediately regrets it. He regretted going with the flow, and letting you go so easily. Fact is, he turned around, wanting to run back after you, but seeing your backside facing him, walking in the opposite direction without so much as a glance back over to him, compelled him to look the other way and to move forward, after all, it seemed you had no trouble doing just that.

Taking your hand, he intertwined his fingers with your own, his kisses became more passionate and his embrace became tighter as his hands roamed. God he missed you. He missed how your body felt against his, and how your skin tasted. He missed how you sounded when he kissed that one little spot on your neck, and how your body shakes when he touches you. He missed you too much.

“Tell me you don’t want me to leave this time….tell me we belong…tell me…so I can do what I’ve really been wanting to do for the last two weeks…with the one woman I’ve been wanting. Tell me baby…”

Softly sobbing, you whimpered and gasped out, immediately trying to catch your breath as you cried out your words.

“I never wanted it to end in the first place…”

Peeling his head back, he stood slightly shocked at your words. Before he could ask questions, you finally let it all out. It was long overdue, and the most painful sense of release you ever felt.

“Why couldn’t you just have turned around?....I stood…watching you walk away. I mentally begged for you to turn around and come back…but you just kept moving on…you left me crying….and I just had no choice but to finally do the same….you didn’t come back. What was I supposed to do? Stand and wait in that spot forever? And those girls?....I just knew…you didn’t care….”

Your words hit deep and cut a wound that may never heal. He had no idea that you waited. He did turn back but he was too late…probably by mere seconds. The image he recalls of you walking away, was imagined with you displaying a calm and tranquil look on your face. Now, he understands that you made your way back home in tears that night, and longed for him to come back to you.

He gulps. In a single brief moment, your entire relationship flashes before his eyes, and he realizes that not only did he not give you his best during, but he didn’t give it to you after. Yeah, he tried to get his mind off you by going on dates, but how were you supposed to know that? He started to think how his behavior must have looked to you…how hurtful it must have been to hear about his rendezvous while you were sitting here longing for him to come back. But what killed him in all of this was that, had he just been less attentive towards his friends and set his priorities straight, none of this would have happened. How many times did he come home and skip eating the dinner you prepared, all because he decided to eat with the guys after work. Or whenever you asked to spend time with him, and he promised you he would have another day, one where he didn’t have plans, yet that day never came. How many times did he wake up, shower, and quickly breezed through the kitchen and sees that you prepared breakfast for him, yet instead of sitting and eating with you, thanking you for taking the time to feed him, he picks bits and pieces off his plate and heads out while jutting out the words “see ya!” and quickly leaves so he could be the first in line at the coffee shop…that coffee shop…the coffee shop you loved yet he never took you with. He knew your favorite order yet never brought you back anything. He was always so focused in grabbing his drink and heading to work, where he could spend nearly the entire day chilling out with the guys doing what they love, spending a great deal of overtime, before finally calling it a night. How many times did he have the opportunity to come back home, especially after seeing all his friends dipping out to go back to their loved ones that were waiting for them…and yet he stayed back, opting to hit up buddies who were single and could spare the time, instead of coming back home to you. How many times did he come back home so late at night, finding you already asleep. How many times did he crawl into bed with you, and instead of hugging you and kissing you, he turns the opposite direction and falls asleep, leaving you to not only feel lonesome during the day when you’re awake, but at night when you’re asleep too. Just how many times…did he take you for granted?

He didn’t have any words. He felt hurt…he felt a great deal of pain, and it was nothing that you did, you were great…you were perfect in fact. The one that hurt him was himself.

Remaining silent, he leans back into your neck. Shoving his lips against your ear, feeling the shrug of your shoulders as the oversensitive sensation of feeling his lips pressed against you was immense and triggered potent arousal. Whispering, he merely tells you “I’m sorry…”

His soft whisper made you cry even more. Feeling you shake as you sobbed harder, he holds on tightly and kisses you on that soft spot again…and again….and again. Until your sobs turned into moans. Sucking on your neck, he reaches up and grabs onto your throat, gently but firmly holding on as he pulls your hips back. His free arm hugs your waist and tugs onto you, while his grab around your neck keeps your face and chest close to the wall. Pressing his groin against your derriere, he takes in a large whiff of your scent, that subtly sweet perfume that he liked so much…he missed it. The one thing he grew complacent in taking in daily, yet the moment he thought he lost it forever, he realized it was the most beloved scent produced in this world. The feel of your touch, your skin, hair, and your soft lips, was something he didn’t realize how much he loved. It had been longer than two weeks since he last felt you, growing too comfortable and spending more time away from you throughout the course of your relationship, it had been a while since you both were last intimate. It wasn’t that he didn’t love you or cared, he just didn't have his priorities straight. He just always thought that no matter what, you were always going to be around for whenever he needed or wanted you. But when was that? When did he express how much he needed or wanted you? When did he last make you feel appreciated and desired? More importantly, when was the last time he made himself available to you? Knowing that you wanted and needed him, yet he never was there for you.

“God…I’m such a fucking idiot…” he hums out with a mouthful of your skin sucked in to his mouth. Lifting you once more, he flings you over and softly lands you on the couch, laying atop your backside as you rest on your stomach and chest. “He–Heeseung…”

“Why was I so fucking blind…” his words gasped out in a near whisper, it was gentle and calm, yet the manner of his physical touch was the exact opposite. Nearly ripping off your dress, the straps snap loose as he roughly pulls it down, and tears your panties off. Hanging by the bits of thread and pieces of fabric, it loosely hangs on your thigh while he smooths his hands over the softness of your smooth skin, grabbing onto your cheeks firmly as he squeezes your derriere.

“Why did I not see what was in front of me?” Leaning forward, he places his lips on your back shoulder, and sucks on various regions. Firmly holding onto your waist, he fishes out his stiff member and rides it in between your cheeks, squeezing it to nestle in between as he strokes it up and down. “How could I not see that I had the best thing that’s ever happened to me?” Taking a hold on the back of your neck, he slowly feeds himself inside your cavity, pressing in. You weren’t entirely ready, and the lack of prepping made it hard for you to take him in, not to mention it had been so long. Yet his eager desire to have you made him impatient, he needed you now…he wanted you…he wanted to please himself but also, to please his queen.

“Why did I not show you just how much you mean to me….why didn’t i do it sooner?” Thrusting in hard, his groin smacks against the soft plumpness of your cheeks, you screamed out as he rams himself in, reaching the depths of your gut as he pushes through all of your stagnant walls. Fully in, he pauses before continuing. He had to take a moment to enjoy the feeling of burying his cock deep inside you….after missing out for so long.

“Why wasn’t I better for you?” Sliding out, his tip breaches its exit, providing you with some relief as you catch your breath, only for him to shove it back in with fierce momentum. “He–Heeseung!” Gripping onto the sofa cushion, you brace through the pressure of pain and pleasure as he roughs up your womanhood. He was being so demanding with the way he was thrusting, yet his words were so beautifully spoken with genuine sincerity and sympathy. He truly was sorry, and now, he wanted to show it, even if it meant he had to mix his love with fucking you into pieces.

“Why didn’t I tell you how I’ve felt all this time?” Thrusting, he jolts forward and bucks his hips, causing your body to rumble and shoot forward, only to be retracted back as he pulls you in, all to repeat his performance in jutting his cock back into you deeply, shiting your body forward.

“Why wasn’t I home often?” Thrusting and pumping his cock fiercely, you felt the sting of his thickness tearing you open. It had been too long, your body nearly forgot what it felt like to have someone, much less him, pelting you with their girth. Even though you were devotedly waiting for him, and yearned for him, he left you empty and unfulfilled so many nights, and you spent each evening alone and drifting off into a dream where you weren’t sleeping lonesomely on an empty bed. Now, he was here, and for the first time in so long, he was not only making love, but he was fucking you like his life depended on it. He didn’t want to take it easy, or slow, he wanted to go in deep and hard. He wanted his performance to match the ferocity of his love and yearning for you.

“Why did I let you sleep alone all those nights? I should have been there to kiss you to sleep.” Deepening his thrust, the curved edge of his lengthy member hits your sweet spot. Soon, there was no pain, only the pressure of pleasure and ecstasy.

“I should have touched you more.” increasing speed, he forces the moisture of your secreted fluids to squelch in and out. Your body gushes out, you could feel yourself releasing the warm liquid your body was producing, seeping out, and glazing his cock as he continues to fuck you.

“I should have loved you harder.” Grabbing onto both sides of your waist, he pumps his cock in and out, faster and faster as he holds you steady.

“I should have been better. I should have been so much better.” Slapping into you, his groin and thighs stains your skin red as he continues to slam himself in, going deeper and deeper.

“I should have….fuck….baby you feel so good…I should have…I should have….”

“Heeseung!! Ugh!” He continues with his pace as you reach behind and smack your hands over his, digging your fingers onto his wrists as you feel the snap in your gut release the high of your orgasm.

“Fuck baby….you’re making me cum…..”

Your body shakes uncontrollably and you scream out his name, which transitions into tiresome whimpers as you catch your breath. All the while he slows down, going in deep and slow, passionately slow. Admiring the view of his length smoothing in and out of your womanhood, he savors the feeling of releasing every bit of love, anger, sadness, and regret into you. Still thrusting, his thumbs stroke your skin and he bids you to answer.

“Tell me you missed me…”

“....I missed you…”

“Tell me you want me.”

“I want you…”

“Tell me you need me.”

“I need you.”

“Now tell me you love me….”

“....I love you….”

Leaning in, he rests his weight on top of you as he tenderly kisses your cheek. His cock remains buried in, and goes in deeper as he propels forward and lays atop your body. “Then turn around…and don’t let me go. I’ll do the same.”

Enjoyed this piece? Show love and treat your girl to a cup of coffee. ♥️

☕ Ko-fi: ko-fi.com/reinbow

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yandere-wishes · 7 months ago

Note

i would give just about anything for some master sol content (from the acolyte? 🥺) maybe him realizing he has feelings for you and tries to restrain himself from acting in them, but ultimately finds himself too enamored with you 👉🏻👈🏻

I love master Sol sm!! 🥺🥺 he's so perfect ♥️💖

"There is no emotion. There is peace. There is no ignorance. There is knowledge. There is no passion. There is serenity"

He repeats the words like a sermon, devotion in tone, in mind. "No emotion only peace." There's a temporary flash. Some poltergeist daring to intrupt the idyllic room. Sol keeps his eyes closed, praying to the force. Exorcism on his tongue.

He sees the stars, the cosmic waves, and then...

And then your face smiling back at him. Between the debris of an asteroid field.

Sol isn't use to this.

To feelings so potent they threaten to suffocate. He's use to serenity, peace. A clear mind operating on the code he was brought up on. He's taken the clarity of a jedi molded mind for granted. He misses the halcyon.

You haunt him, sinking your teeth into his heart and bleeding him dry. He's thinking of you every moment, trying desprealty to push down the specter that dances across his sight.

Your ghost looms filling the air with a potent presence. Sols fingers reach out. caressing air and emptiness. He longs to feel your smaller hand in his.

"Master sol, are you willing to train padawan (y/n) for the afternoon?". Vernestra Rwoh's voice is pin needles tearing into his frail heart strings sol doesn't know how much restrain he can show when your physically there. Force, help him. He needs to feel you. Worship your body with saccharine feverous kisses. Feel your soft fingers running through his hair.

"Yes, I can..."

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yuyu1024 · 1 year ago

Text

I missed you

Pairings: Yoongi (Suga) × y/n

Genre/tags: idol secret dating

Warning: language, making out, semi public sex, pet names, fluff [lmk if i miss anything]

Words: 1.40k

Disclaimer:

- this story is just made up

- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊

Note: repost. Check pinned post for more ♥️

*******

He have been touring for a while. You wished you can accompany him and see the world with him but that's impossible. You have your own work and you can't risk people seeing you in every tour stop. It's for your own protection and also for his career. You don't want to ruin his career.

It maybe romantic to scream yo the whole wide world that he is your man and you both love each other so much. It's not always the best option.

But since it's been months since the last you saw him, you planned on going to one of his stop. You saved enough money and Vaction leave credits so you can stay for a week for him. Since he will be staying as well for work too.

----

Admiring the view from your balcony, you can't help but smile like a little kid while taking pictures of the sky, the buildings and everything you're seeing.

(Photo not mine. Ctto)

You got tense a little as hands snakes around your torso. "Having fun?" But the second you heard his voice, your body relaxes. You lean back, head on his shoulder and giving him access to kiss you on your neck. "I'm sorry, I'm a little late... we got caught in traffic on our way back."

"It's fine. I understand." Moving away from his embrace, you face him and admire how dashing he looks. "Your hair got longer..." you then tug his hair behind his ear.

"Well, you said you wanted to see me with longer hair so... I grew it out."

"Did I?"

"Yes, mentioned it before..."

"You really do pay attention to everything I say..." you giggle on how cute your boyfriend is. This makes you feel happy.

"It's because I love you..." he moves closer to you, making you walk back a little. Your lowerback now is leaning on the fence of the balcony. His face is just inches away from yours, "I missed you so much..." he say staring at your parted lips. "Wait.. You're wearing make up?"

You look away, a little embarassed. You're not the type to actually put make up all the time. Yoongi is used to seeing you barefaced since you two always meet in hiding. Either your apartment or his.

"Well, it's been so long since I've seen you... and... maybe... you've seen quite a few beautiful ladies around the world so..."

He snorts a laugh. He tries not to laugh but you can see how his shoulder is shaking trying to supress it.

"Yah!" You slap him by his shoulder, "what's so funny? Am I a joke to you now?"

"Oh, babe." He wraps you up in embrace, his hands, one at the back of your head and one at the back of your neck. His thumb lightly caressing you. "You know how much I love you... I don't care about other women. My eyes, heart, body and soul is just for you... my Y/n..."

You lock your arms around his torso. "I love you too... so much..." you nuzzles your face on his chest. "I missed you so bad... this have been the longest we were apart."

"I know..." he kisses the top of your head and then reaches for your chin to lift it up. "I've missed you to... and.." he pauses to kiss you. He does it with a very longing feeling. He is not rushing every move but he's very much leading the whole kiss. You can feel how he savours each lips to lips friction.

"Yoongi," you say as you lips parted from his, "I think we should get inside... we are exposed here..."

"Why? Don't you love to make out here? With this view?" His body is closer to yours. So close that both of your clothes are the only thing separating you both.

"I do..." You push your hair away from your face, "but don't you think... people might see us...?"

He leans down and begins kissing you on your neck then your exposed shoulder. You didn't realized he had already slipped the strap of your dress down.

"Yoongi..." you moan but you still try to stop him. "Babe..."

"We're on the 28th floor. We are facing the ocean... the other buildings are far away. They will not notice us..." he says quietly

He grabs both your hands by the wrist, throwing them around his neck for you to hold onto. He then takes one of your leg up around his hips. Pushes the skirt of your dress away, exposing your legs and giving him an easy access to your panties.

"Please...babe... allow me..." he runs his thumb over your already wet core. "I want to have you now... promise... I will be careful... if you're worried anyone would see us... I just..." your foreheard together, his eyes closed shut as he rub his thumb on you.

You didn't answer him yet. You want answer but your so indulged in the moment.

"Ah! Yes..." You hold on tight around his neck. You feel a sudden weakness on your body as he continues to rub your clit. "More... Yoongi... more..."

"Did you miss this?" He whispers to your ears. You nod. "How about this?" He pushes your panties to the side and slides one finger in.

"Fuck! Ah! Y-yes..." you cry. Your grip onto his shoulder like its life or death. "Please... so good!"

Yoongi slowly pushes another digit in you making you quiver with pleasure. "I love how you sound..." the rythm of his pushing in and out of you is making you go crazy.

"Please... I want you..." you says looking into his eyes. "I want... you..."

He picks you up like a bride. "Let's go inside. It's getting cold."

"I thought... you want to try do have sex here... for a change..."

"We can if you want to.. but I realized I don't want you to get sick. You get cold so easily..."

"Oh, okay."

"Plus, I don't think they are ready to hear us do this all night... maybe some other time. For now... all of your orgasm is mine to hear and enjoy."😈

#yuyu1024 #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #bts yoongi #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts fanfic #suga fanfic #min yoongi #bts smut #bts angst #yoongi smut #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x you

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elegantsplendour · 2 years ago

Text

Let the Games Begin

Summary 📚 : Gwayne Hightower’s first born daughter was known as the viper. A manipulative, untamed little thing who has an insatiable hunger.

Aemond One-Eye did not like her betrothal with the handsome and charming Lord of Highgarden, especially amidst the Dance of the Dragons.

Not one bit.

Pairing 💌: Aemond Targaryen x !Hightower reader

Contains / warnings😈: kidnap, fluff, some degrading, smut, public

Theme song: Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince

And I don't want you to go I don't really wanna fight

'Cause nobody's gonna win, just thought you should know

And I'll never let you go 'cause I know this is a fight

That someday we're gonna win.

Masterlist

Taglist 🥰: @marvelescvpe @aemondx @buglyberry @heavenly1927 @theroyaldixon

Other friends ♥️: @lovelykhaleesiii @daemonskelitsos @vhagarswar

Comments and reblogs are always appreciated💌

When she opened her eyes, her entire body ached in soreness. Trying to lift her arms, a terrifying realization invaded her conscience, the exotically luxurious chamber decorated in Bravoosi silk definitely did not belong to Old Town, nor King’s Landing. Her breaths quickened as she closed her eyes once again, memories flooding back to her head.

Adorned in Hightower green, she had giggled foolishly, appreciating her fine figure in the mirror. Of course she was content. Which lady in all of Westeros wouldn’t be overjoyed to be betrothed to the handsome and charming Lord of Highgarden? Although the marriage was downright political, she had made sure Loras Tyrell had been utterly smitten by your stunning appearance and sinfully seductive nature.

Arching her back devilishly, she imagined ways to drive her betrothed into taking her in the most bestial ways. As moans and grins escaped her mouth, a large hand muffled her breath. It excited her as she had anticipated it had been her desperate husband-to-be who couldn’t wait until the wedding night, but as soon as she caught a glimpse of silver, she realized that she was fucked.

The next thing she knew, she were confined in this chamber.

The door cracked open.

Long silver hair, black leather suit.

Of course.

“You kidnapped me?!” She shrieked in rage, “In Bravoos? Are you out of your mind? You destroyed our alliance between House Tyrell!”

Aemond rolled his one eye and responded cooly, “Dear cousin, we both know you don’t give a shit about the alliance. You are just mad because you lost your chance of getting fucked by Loras Tyrell.”

A blood red flush crept on her face as she retorted, throwing an apple from the fruit plate on her bedside to the one-eyed prince, who dodged her attack with ease, “Aemond, you fucking cunt!” She whined, “I want my life back with Loras!”

Sevens save me. Why am I in love with such a childish and wanton woman?

Aemond approached, his hands gripped her wrists firmly in place as she continued to try to slap him, “Your marriage puts you into great danger. An Hightower-Tyrell alliance puts a target on your back from the Blacks.”

The insolent girl bit his hands while Aemond winced in pain, “As if it wasn’t my cunt of an uncle who pushed your wastrel brother on the throne! At least, I was going to get a good fuck before getting assassinated.”

“You’re right,” Aemond gritted his teeth as he reclaimed her wrists, pinning her on the bed this time with much more force, “All this bloodshed, betrayals, all for the insatiable greed of the few. I won’t take part in this anymore. I’ve fought for my family, hard, for a long time, but it’s time to think for myself. This isn’t my fight anymore,” he leaned closer, “And I refuse to let you be in pawn in this game. I freed you from a fight that wasn’t yours. You… You will be mine.”

Aemond’s lowered his guard as glimmers in her eyes and silence reigned in the room.

“Aemond, you’re hurting my wrists,” she whimpered softly, her innocent doe eyes blinking.

He sighed and released his grasp.

Slap.

A bright red mark imprinted on his ethereal Valyrian face.

“You fucking pervert, Aemond! I am your cousin! Your cousin,” she breathed in disgust and rage, “You will make me succumb to your Targaryen queer traditions over my dead body!”

Aemond covered his stinging cheek, humiliated and surprised, “Over your dead body? Hmm,” he captured her neck, his grip authoritative, commanding and frightening yet not causing true pain, “You are mine to touch, to possess, to own, to use,” his hot breath on her neck, “ I am the only man you will ever get to have. Your needy little cunt won’t last until the end of your days. When you beg me to take you, I will ruin you.”

He left the chamber.

Cries and sobs filled the chamber for weeks after that encounter. She cursed her insufferable cousin for forcibly taking her life away, to mock her desires and body in a such crude way. How dared he? She was the temptress, Gwayne Hightower’s precious little viper, the one who hypnotized preys in her web. How dared he talk of using her as if she was a plaything?

Aemond returned to her side countless times, trying to apologize and make amends, yet every time his attempts ended in his hand slapped away. He hated to see her cry, his little viper cracking in vulnerability.

All he wanted to do was tend to her in his arms, even risking poisonous bites from her fangs.

Days turned into weeks, the little viper was not broken. If she were ever going to be, it would be of boredom.

She observed everything around her to her imagination. Whenever Aemond and the maids were gone, she wrapped her body with the opulent crimson blanket and danced dramatically as if she were the goddess of beauty and seduction. Eventually, her attention drifted inevitably to her cousin captor. The way he avoided her gaze as she narrowed her eyes, his desperate yet reserved request for touching her hand, the way his silver lock cascaded down his sharply beautiful features as she slaps his hand away.

He amused her.

But amidst her boredom there was another dire situation.

Dissatisfaction.

Of course, she would rather torment herself in chastity than giving Aemond the satisfaction of offering herself.

But the viper always finds a solution.

One day, she blackmailed a maester that Aemond sent by threatening to accuse him of touching her into delivering a piece of literature.

Cautionary Tales of Unchaste Ladies Across the Seven Kingdoms Since Aegon’s Conquest.

Knelt on the stone ground, Lady Aryana gazed in fear at the two knights before her. One of them muscular and broad, another tall and slim. Yet amidst her fear, strange tingling sensation erupted in her stomach. The muscular knight bent down and whispered, “My lady, your lord husband fetched us to tend to your needs. He informed us that you prefer to be taken without mercy -”

“What in the Seven Hells is this?!”

The heat in her stomach dissipated the instant the book was snitched away from her hands.

“Give it back!” She protested, hands reaching desperately the forbidden text held high by her captor, “You sadistic prick!”

Aemond hummed, his eye glazing over the next lines of the scandalous story. He swallowed subtly and raised his brows toward the annoyed girl, “Sadistic? Should I take it as a compliment? Considering it comes from masochistic.”

“This is beyond inappropriate for a lady of your station,” Aemond scolded her.

Frozen for an instant, she gracefully settled on the bed and smirked, “A girl has needs. What? My prince?” She pouted, “Want to lend a hand?”

Aemond clenched his fists and seethed, “When you indulge in such sinful acts, you won’t be rewarded.”

She whined in feigned disappointment, pretending to settle in the quilt again.

Turning away to leave the chamber, Aemond’s heart skipped a beat as he felt a feather light kiss landing on his cheeks. Before he had the time to process the delightful peck, horror and rage took over as the delicate hands snitched away his eye patch, exposing his sapphire eye in all its beauty and vulnerability.

He growled in frustration and he chased after the giggling viper.

He gripped on her waist and restrained her on the bed steadfast.

She blinked at him playfully, “I am bored. It’s been a moon since I’ve been confined in this golden prison. I can’t find a better entertainment than tormenting my captor.”

As his boiling and intimidating presence radiated on her, she realized that she had pushed Aemond Targaryen onto his limits.

“Are you going to spank me?”

With a swift move, she was effortlessly flipped over and her white night gown pulled up, revealing her vulnerable flesh.

Aemond’s hand raised high. As it was about to land, he stopped.

The little viper was squirming and arching her back in need.

Aemond chuckled, “You say tormenting me is your form of entertainment, hmm?” He hovered her body and his lips brushing over her earlobe, “Consider that we have similar taste in entertainment, little viper. Your body is mine to pleasure, you should have known better than reading such obscenities.”

He brushed his fingers on her sensitive backside, inciting an arousing whimper from her lips, before leaving his captive in frustration.

She buried her head in the pillows for hours and shrieked in embarrassment and frustration after that encounter.

She was a viper, an untamed, wild and free creature, confined in a golden cage.

She hated the silver haired prick. Always looking so damn perfect. Always keeping his annoying ass proper facade when he literally betrayed his family, faked his death, broke an alliance, kidnapped her across the Narrow Sea to own her, claim her, break her.

How fucking dared he? What kind of decent man does that?

I will prove it that he is if not more, just as wicked as I am.

A few days later

“Release me, you stupid girl,” Aemond hissed, “you are strangling me to to death!”

She didn’t.

Aemond’s hands gripped on the arms tangled on his neck in annoyance, yet deep down, his body rejoiced the sensation of his viper ravelling his body.

“Not until you take me to the city! I am about to die of boredom, my dearest cousin,” she emphasized on the last two words, “My Prince,” she implored innocently, “Please please please!”

“Fine!” He finally declared, “But if you ever try to escape, you can forget about leaving his chamber ever again.”

“I promise I’ll behave!” She promised mischievously, her eyes twinkling with excitement, and galloped out of the oppressing chamber.

Aemond regarded her with a mix of amusement and suspicion. He was well aware of her manipulative nature and how she could use her charms to get what she wanted. Nevertheless, a small part of him couldn't resist her pleas, the way she looked up at him with those innocent eyes.

Wandering on the market of Bravoos for hours, Aemond’s hand never left the tilt of sword as he scrutinized the mass, assuring there were no Westerosi spies targeting him or his viper.

His unbearable cousin, on the other hand, had much less serious matters in her head. As they strolled through the vibrant streets, she maintained her facade of naivety, pretending to be oblivious to the effect her every move had on Aemond. She skipped along, her dress swaying with each step, seemingly unaware of the gazes of admiration and desire that followed her.

She would glance back at Aemond with wide, innocent eyes, feigning confusion. "Aemond, why are people staring at us? Do I have something on my face?"

Aemond clenched his jaw, well aware of her game. He fought to conceal his growing frustration as he responded through gritted teeth, "It's nothing. Just ignore them."

The Hightower viper rejoiced secretly at her captor’s terribly failure of hiding his annoyance.

As they passed by a fruit vendor, her eyes gleamed mischievously. She plucked a ripe, succulent peach from the display, bringing it to her lips and taking a slow, sensual bite. The sweet juice dripped down her chin as she looked at Aemond through half-lidded eye.

"Mmm, Aemond, this peach is absolutely delicious," she murmured, her voice dripping with seduction. "Would you like a taste?" She extended the fruit towards him, her fingers glistening with its juices.

Aemond's resolve was hanging by a thread as he stared at the tantalizing sight before him. He wanted to seize the peach, to taste its sweetness and devour it along with her tempting offer.

No.

He wanted to do so much more.

He wanted to claim her lips, bite her, squeeze her, take her ruthlessly, make her scream like a common whore under broad daylight while the peasants of Bravoos watch with shock.

Clenching his fists, Aemond feigned a polite smile, “I’m good, little cousin.”

She rolled her eyes as she licked her lips intentionally.

Smitten by the desirous moment, Aemond’s eye widened in horror. She was nowhere to be found.

He searched every tent of the market at no avail.

A mixture of rage, fear and vulnerability stormed in his mind.

Did he really let her little display fool him, leading to her escape?

Or worse…

Spies from his family got their hold on her.

“Have you glimpsed a maiden? Barely of age, in a white dress, hauntingly beautiful?” Aemond demanded menacingly a mid-aged trader of Pentosi silk. The woman froze in fear as she recognized the symbolic silver hair: a Targaryen.

Aemond’s worry blazed eye was covered by darkness. The shock electrified his body and his first instinct had been to cut off the hands on his eye. Yet an instant later, the worry was replaced by fury.

“Did you think I escaped, My Prince?”

Aemond turned around, rage written all over his face.

The sight before him exacerbated his storm of emotions.

Her white gown for a proper Westerosi lady gone, replaced by an exotic and tempting Dornish robe, revealing her fruitful bosom, slender shoulders and alluring curves.

“Isn’t this beautiful?” She grinned as she swirled recklessly, displaying her beguiling thighs.

With that, she bolted like a mice being chased by a ferocious cat. Did she intend to escape? Absolutely not. Her alluring laughter like a siren’s call to the dragon prince.

As she reached a glim alley, she slowed down her pace and turned to face Aemond, approaching her like a predator ready to devour its prey.

He cupped her delicious breasts, barely covered by the provocative silk, roughly, eliciting a soft whine her soft lips, “Wooh, my prince…”

Aemond grabbed the back of her delicate neck and breathed on her neck, “Are you really that eager to get fucked, hmm? Little cousin?”

She tilted her head with her glimmering eyes, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Her tease almost childlike, yet her hands traced down his lean and muscular chest.

“Fuck,” he growled, his leather pants stretching at his growing bulge;

With a swift move, she wrapped her arms around him and muffled his shocked curses with her lips.

“You are annoyingly attractive, cousin,” she smirked.

Instead of responding or retorting, Aemond turned her around her pressed her on the wall in an almost brutal manner.

She smiled satisfactorily and taunted, “Perhaps I am eager to get… Hmm,” she mimicked him, “Perhaps you are just too eager to fuck me, Aemond.”

A animalistic growl followed by a low chuckle echoed from her behind, “You want me to take you in front of the gods, do you?”

She turned her head to face him, grinning, “You know me, cousin. I pray to myself, for myself. I am a goddess, and you are my willing servant.”

As her last words escaped her mouth, she shrieked at the pain and pleasure accompanied by the sudden intrusion.

She already got wet just by fucking teasing me. Such a - Aemond’s thought were cut off as the word “servant” entered into his ears.

He pushed into her luscious backside without any warning.

Soon, her gasps of pain tuned into screams of pleasure.

“How is that, little viper? Are you still a goddess now?” He demanded cruelly as he spanked her hard.

Little did he know in her ears, the sharp sound on his hand and her, the relentless pounding, her own moans and his occasional growls were a symphony driving her into Seven Heavens.

“Big cousin,” she emphasized on the word “big” and arched her back, “You are so good to me. Serve me harder.”

Aemond longed to ruin her, yet he knew she wanted to be ruined.

He increased his pace, his hands coming down on her again and again.

He whispered the most sinful and degrading things he could think off.

Everything exacerbated her excitement.

It both infuriated and satisfied him.

“Scream louder, my little viper, mine,” he warned, sensing her walls clenching, “Scream so loud that whole of Bravaoos can hear you,” he chuckled, “Or I deny your ecstasy.”

And scream his name she did.

Aemond’s peak followed soon after and spilled his seed in her.

Aemond panted in satisfaction and exhaustion as he smirked at the mess he created.

His heart tightened again as the beautiful mess closed the distance between them and melted in his embrace.

“Did I hurt you?” His voice unconsciously soft.

He didn’t want to be soft.

His beautiful mess shook her head and nestled in his chest.

“Let me take care of you,” he promised, lifting her off the ground and directed to their residence.

He placed her on the mattress carefully as if he was holding a delicate vase and placed a kiss on her forehead, “I wanted it to be special. I didn’t mean to take you so… recklessly, I am sorry.”

Aemond One-Eye had absolutely no fucking idea why he had said that.

The little viper grinned and pulled her captor onto the mattress and rolled on top of him, “Trust me, Aemond - My Captor - Big Cousin - Targaryen, you had me because I wanted you,” she murmured, “I wanted you to take me… recklessly.”

The prince failed to contain his chortle, “My viper, so untamed. Even when at the mercy of her captor.”

She leaned down and captured his thin lips, slighting biting, “I always choose what’s best for me, Aemond,” she locked her eyes with his and took off his eye patch, exposing his sapphire, “I choose to let myself to be loved.”

Aemond’s words were caught in his throat.

Did he love her?

Oh the fuck yes.

How did she know?

She always does.

“You think I am the best for you?” A twinge of the vulnerability cracked from the ruthless One-Eyed Prince.

“For now,” she answered, “But make no mistake,” she reminded him playfully, her hands travelling down to his most intimate parts, “I will drift away if you cease to be that way.”

Aemond watched her in fascination as she grinned, “This is why you love me, no? Selfish, untamed, unapologetic? So un-Hightower.”

In a dominant surge, he pinned her down again, his voice firm and unyielding, “You can drift away all you want, my viper,” he smiled deviously, “I will hunt you down to the end of the world.”

She winked in amusement, “I have no doubt, Aemond Targaryen,” she challenged, “But I also know you would do anything, absolutely anything to become the best for me again.”

“Hmm,” he travelled his hands between her thighs again, “Let the games begin, shall we?”

“We shall.”

Many hours later.

“You know, I’ve never imagined that I would lose my maidenhood bent over in a dark alley in Bravoos, let alone to you.”

“Oh please, the only person you lost your maidenhood to was your devious fingers.”

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duskandcobalt · 11 months ago

Text

Stargirl: Part Four

Following her last vision, Elain and Azriel navigate the surprise revelation and the frenzy that comes along with it.

...

Well, well, well... my smutty little darling that was only ever supposed to be one part comes to an end. This last part was intended to be just a little dirty short thing but somehow it turned into a 6k word monster soooo???? idk i had fun writing this, I hope you have fun reading it and I'm so thrilled I could get this out just in time for the last day of @sjmromanceweek 💕💗💞

this can be read as a stand alone but if you'd like to see how elain's sexy little visions came to be, you can find the first part of stargirl here as well as all the other parts in my masterlist xx

18+ please, gratuitous smut and a little bit of breeding kink as a valentine's day treat 💌👀♥️

ENJOY XX

Read on AO3

Elain runs a trembling hand down the front of her dress as she takes a deep breath.

She’s wearing a beautiful ivory gown made of delicate lace that’s almost sheer. Only heavy clusters of floral embroidery cover her from the top of the bodice down to the middle of her thighs where it tapers off before picking up again to form a stunning train that trails dramatically behind her. The dress has long sleeves, also covered in embroidery, but her shoulders and decolletage are left bare - an intentional design choice that she and her seamstress had made with a certain someone in mind.

A veil is ever so carefully placed into the crown of Elain’s intricately woven hair by the practiced hands of the twins when a soft knock sounds from the bedroom door, interrupting the mindless chatter she’d been exchanging with Nuala and Cerridwen.

She catches sight of the male in the reflection of her mirror. His tall, lean frame occupies almost the entire doorway. He’s dressed in an immaculately tailored suit and a small dusk coloured rose is pinned to the lapel of his jacket. His violet eyes soften as they meet hers and the very corners of his lips turn up into a fond smile.

“He’s not going to know what to do with himself when he sees you.” Rhysand says quietly. “You make for a beautiful bride, Elain.”

Elain ducks her head in thanks. The warmth of a blush creeps up her neck and blooms across her cheeks as the nerves that she’s been trying to keep at bay all morning finally settle low in her stomach at her brother-in-law’s sincere compliment and at the reminder of the male waiting for her in the garden.

She couldn’t believe that this was actually happening. Couldn’t believe that she was about to walk down the aisle to her mate.

…

It had been two years since she’d had that vision that had hinted at a truth she hadn’t been prepared to receive. A vision that had shown her this day - a mating ceremony to a dark haired Shadowsinger instead of the son of Autumn as the Cauldron had once suggested.

That single vision had come out of nowhere and thrown her entire life into a spiral.

She’d never forget sitting up in his bed, turning towards him and whispering those words that had turned their entire world upside down.

You’re my mate.

Azriel had only stared at her, still as a statue, as she fumbled over her words in a desperate attempt to explain to him exactly what she’d seen.

The offering of cake. A black ribbon binding her wrist to his.

He’d broken down moments later after finally finding his voice and asking her a few carefully curated questions to understand exactly what she’d seen. He’d clutched her tight to his chest as tears trickled from his eyes and into her hair. She’d never seen him like that before but she understood immediately that the overwhelming feeling that coursed through him was relief.

Relief from the knowledge that he hadn’t been forgotten by the Mother or the Cauldron. From knowing that he hadn’t been deemed unworthy of a mate because of all the blood he’d drawn over the centuries.

They’d gone to Feyre first, clumsily explaining what Elain had seen only to realise they would also need to confess to already having been spending time together. They told Rhys next and though it was perhaps naive of them, neither she nor Azriel had expected that the High Lord would react so poorly to the news.

For all the times that Elain had wished she could be with Azriel without needing to hide from the others, opening themselves up to the wrath of Rhysand for daring to mess with intercourt politics had resulted in a world of pain. He’d torn into Azriel for even thinking of pursuing a mated female, let alone a female mated to an Autumn Court male. For daring to bed her while her mate slept in the same house.

At the time, it had seemed that no matter how many times Elain tried to make it clear that the bond in question wasn’t even a real bond - that she had pursued Azriel just as much as he’d pursued her, that they’d never risked sleeping together when Lucien was in residence - her pleas fell on deaf ears. Rhys had stormed out of his office without sparing her a glance, only giving a stern warning to Azriel to stay the hell away from her.

They hadn’t stayed away from each other, of course. They’d simply resumed what they’d already been doing - sneaking in and out of each other’s rooms in the dead of night and only barely avoiding each other during the days.

There had been countless tears and numerous arguments. An entire war had almost been waged over their claim that the Cauldron had been wrong. Iit had taken almost an entire year of working with various High Lords, priestesses, and other contacts and associates of Rhysand to confirm that something had indeed gone wrong when Elain was submerged in the Cauldron - that a spell had been cast in an attempt to hide her bond to Azriel and guide her in another direction.

It had been confusing and messy and terrible for everyone involved but they had somehow come out on the other end, still together and still hopelessly in love. Now, there was a brand new element to their relationship. A bright, glowing tether that connected their bodies, their souls - already so tangible despite the fact that neither of them had formally accepted the bond.

Azriel, usually so reserved and attention avoidant, had surprised her when he insisted on even having a ceremony. She’d had to talk him out of going down the same path as Nesta and Cassian and after going back and forth too many times to count, Elain had eventually relented and they’d compromised on having the small garden ceremony that had come to her in that vision.

The title of mates had never meant much to her. She’d have chosen him a million times over where there’d been a predetermined connection between them or not. But she knew how much it meant to Azriel, knew that he considered the bond to be a blessing unlike any other.

It was why she attempted to look past the, quite frankly, insane behavior he’d been exhibiting over the past few months. Azriel had turned into something reminiscent of the girls that Elain had grown up with. The ones that became obsessive over their nuptials the second a ring was placed on their finger.

Just because she’d given in to his desire to have a ceremony, it didn’t mean that she hadn’t enjoyed torturing him from time to time when he was difficult about place settings or flowers.

“Never should’ve told you about that stupid vision,” Elain would taunt him, if only to feel the delicious trickle of arousal slither down her spine at the way his shoulders would stiffen and the promise of punishment would spark in his eyes.

Not that he’d ever actually deliver on that promise.

It was the one true point of contention between them. The stubborn male was intent on not formally accepting the bond before the ceremony and would hardly touch her, let alone fuck her, for fear of accidentally solidifying the bond between them before they could have it blessed by a priestess. And though she tried, there was no amount of teasing and taunting she could do that would get him to break.

He even went as far as to refuse food made by her whether she handed it directly to him or not.

It was ridiculous. He was ridiculous.

Azriel had made up for some of it though, meeting her halfway by insisting on incorporating certain aspects of a human wedding - starting with a proposal that had come as a complete surprise a few weeks before they’d broken the curse.

They’d been in the garden one evening, Azriel more quiet than usual as he studied her from over the brim of a chipped tea cup that appeared like a dollhouse toy in the grasp of his large hands. She’d only looked up from her notebook when he gently lifted her feet from his lap and shifted until he was on his knees in the grass beside her.

He had said her name so softly, his eyes gleaming with an unfamiliar quality that they’d later identified as nervousness when they laughed together in bed later, recounting the moment while Elain lifted her hand above their faces until the low fae lights caught the surface of the sparkling sapphire that newly graced her ring finger.

…

That sapphire gleams brighter than ever on her finger as Rhysand steps towards her and offers her his arm.

“Ready?”

He’d come to them after they’d announced their intention to have a ceremony and asked if he could walk Elain down the aisle - a sign of peace and a way of offering them his blessing. Something that she knew meant the world to Azriel after the tense year he and Rhys had had.

“Ready.” Elain swallows, slipping her arm through the crook of his elbow.

Apart from Rhys walking her down the aisle, most of what she’d seen in that vision remains the same. A harp plays as Rhys leads her out to the garden. Bright blooms of flowers are arranged on either side of a makeshift aisle. The sun shines and the Sidra glitters behind them. Nesta and Feyre smile brightly, tears gathering in the corner of their eyes. Cassian gives her a bright smile before clasping the broad shoulder of the handsome male standing next to him.

Elain’s breath catches in her chest when Azriel turns and his eyes land on her. She tries to keep from crying but there’s little she can do to stop the tears from falling when Azriel gives her a smile unlike anything she’d ever seen before, his own eyes shining with tears and admiration for his bride.

The sight of Azriel in his leathers was something Elain often dreamed of when she lay in bed at night, but it only takes one slow pass of her eyes over his body before she realises that the only thing better than Azriel in his leathers, is Azriel in a suit.

The suit is perfectly cut to his body and is befitting of a royal prince - the sash draped across his body, the medallions pinned to his chest - she realises that in a way, he really is dressed the part of a high ranking member of the Night Court and something about seeing him proudly dressed like this for her, makes her heart swell.

It feels like an eternity before she stands in front of him, before Rhys kisses her cheek and gives Azriel a hug. Before Azriel’s wonderfully familiar hands clasp around hers.

“Beautiful.” He gives her fingers a gentle squeeze as his eyes roam over her dress - the delicate lace that frames her exposed neck and shoulders. The embroidery that conceals the part of her that only he would ever see. He doesn’t bother to conceal his satisfied hum of approval as his gaze tracks back up the length of her body to her face.

The priestess takes over then, welcoming all their guests and guiding them through a short ceremony that culminates in an exchange of vows that leaves both of them with happy smiles and tear streaked faces.

They exchange rings after their vows - an homage to Elain’s human heritage but also something she’d quietly insisted on because the possessive part of her wanted him to have a physical marker that made it clear that he was taken to any female or male that dared to set their eyes on him.

Before she knows it, Nyx is teetering over to them, a small plate that holds one cinnamon bun haphazardly cradled in his small, chubby hands.

It’s the final point of difference from her vision - a small change she’d intentionally made to incorporate Azriel’s favourite of her homemade treats into their day. A nod to the day this had all started that only the two of them would understand.

She bends down and kisses Nyx on the forehead, gingerly taking the bun in her fingers before standing and bringing it to Azriel’s lips.

“Eat.” Elain murmurs.

Azriel’s lips close around the soft bun, teeth sinking into the sweet pastry. He swallows and Elain swears she feels the bond between them intensify. Unlike the uncomfortable pull she’d felt once upon a time, this is different. This time it’s desire and admiration and pure love that she feels when it tightens around her ribs.

By the way Azriel is looking at her, she knows he feels the same.

The ribbon is the next and final part of the ceremony. Feyre and Nesta both step forward to wrap a length of black satin around the couple’s wrists - sheepish looks on both of her sister’s faces. Rhysand and Cassian take over from their mates- tightening the ribbon and tying it into a firm bow.

“Remember, Az,” Cassian's eyes shine with mischief. “This stays on until you make her come hard enough to cause an avalanche on Ramiel.”

“Cassian!” Nesta groans, pinching the bridge of her nose, at the same exact time Feyre clasps her hands tight over Nyx’s ears even as she and Rhysand fail to stifle their laugh.

…

They don’t last long after the ceremony. It’s only a couple of turns around the small dancefloor and a few congratulatory conversations before the pull between them becomes too much to bear and Azriel bends down, his lips brushing over the delicate point of her ear as he quietly asks if she’s ready to leave.

He laughs at the eagerness with which Elain responds but she can’t bring herself to be embarrassed - not when she’d felt the absence of his touch so thoroughly for over a month now.

She needed to be alone with him. Needed to get away before the desire got the best of them and put them at risk of doing something obscenely stupid like consummating their bond in the middle of this garden, in front of everyone they held close to their hearts.

After a very quick goodbye to their amused guests, Azriel whisks Elain into his arms and flies directly to the townhouse that Rhys had gifted them as a mating present, grumbling that they may as well have it seeing as they’d already spent the last year or two desecrating every part of it.

No words are exchanged as Azriel lands, still cradling Elain in his arms as he wanders up the path and opens the door, carrying her over the threshold once more.

It was funny really, when she looks back at how far they’d come since that very first time Azriel had flown her here, to this place they could now call home.

She’d been a shell of herself back then, clutching to her human life with a desperation that had almost broken her completely. Despite it all, she’d felt a split second moment of reprieve from the intensity of her grief when Azriel, little more than a stranger to her at the time, carried her over the threshold and set her down with such care before he led her out to the one place he somehow knew she might find some sense of normalcy.

She’d felt it then - upon seeing the kindness in his eyes and feeling the gentleness of his touch - the tiniest inkling of hope that maybe one day she could find happiness in this new place, in this new life.

Sure enough, that little drop of hope had been warranted because just a few years later, Elain is the happiest she’s ever been.

The signs had all been there from the start.

That single strand of hair that had snagged right over his heart should’ve told her all she needed to know.

He carries her upstairs, toeing open the door to the bedroom that once belonged solely to her and Elain’s jaw drops as Azriel finally sets her down and she peels her eyes away from his perfect face to take in the room.

She knew that Feyre and Mor had come by earlier to decorate but she didn’t expect all of this. Her usual lilac linens have been replaced by billowing white sheets. There’s blush coloured rose petals strewn across the bed that match the roses that had framed the aisle and candles were scattered around the room, casting the bed in romantic, flickering golden light.

Azriel’s free arm winds around her waist from behind and his lips follow the path of her shoulder up her neck as he pulls her back towards him. Elain tilts her head up to meet him halfway and his mouth travels along her jaw until his lips hover centimeters from hers.

She feels like every bit of her skin is on fire. She could never imagine that the level of her desire for Azriel would surpass what she felt for him in the past but she was sorely mistaken because what she feels in this moment makes her think that if he didn’t do something to quell the ache thrumming between her legs, she might just die.

“Azriel.” She breathes his name, turning towards him fully and breaking the silence that had settled comfortably between them.

“Elain.” He answers. His fingers press into the plush flesh of her hip, the very tips of them venturing low - teasing at the curve of her backside.

“My mate.” Elain says quietly, raising her hand to cup his face. Her thumb drags along his sharp cheekbone.

“My mate.” He repeats. The word is almost unfamiliar on his lips, like he still can’t quite believe the term is his to use. Azriel brings his lips to hers and her entire body is overcome with a desperate need. “My wife.”

Elain can’t help but whimper as her body curves into his by its own volition. She melts into his searing kiss.

“My husband.”

Azriel lets out a soft moan at that and a slight shift of his stance allows her to feel him hard against her hip.

Elain is suddenly nervous as she pulls away to look up at Azriel. She doesn’t understand why she’s suddenly shy, standing in front of him like an innocent, blushing bride even though they both knew that ship had sailed long ago. He stares back at her, candle light catching the flecks of green in his eyes.

She recognises the wonder there as he takes in the sight of her. It’s a perfect mirror to her own emotions. To the disbelief that they’d actually made it to this moment against all odds.

“Not sure how we’re supposed to consummate anything with our wrists bound together.” Elain frowns, her voice shaking slightly. “I won’t be able to get you out of this suit.”

“I think it’s more of a symbolic thing.” Azriel smiles, kissing her once more to ease her nerves. His fingers slip from her waist to their wrists, deftly plucking at the knot of black satin until it comes loose and their hands are freed. He sets the ribbon down and fixes her with a look that sends a shiver down her spine.

He motions for her to turn and then his hands are in her hair, gently removing pins until her hair falls in a gentle, albeit slightly messy, golden wave down her back. He gathers it to the side and more kisses are placed to the sensitive place where her neck meets her shoulder.

Azriel’s fingers find the buttons that run down the back of her dress and he begins to undo them slowly. Elain knows that he’s doing it on purpose. That even on this special day, he wouldn’t dream of missing the opportunity to have her beg.

But Elain, for once, won’t let him win. She somehow finds the will power to hold still as he undoes her dress and drags it down her arms and over her torso until it falls to the floor and she’s left standing in front of him in nothing except for the very expensive scrap of ivory lace that covers her sex and the shiny rings on her finger.

She reaches for his suit jacket and helps him maneuver out of it and then she steps around to his back to undo the buttons of his shirt around his wings. And maybe, just maybe, during the process of ridding him of his shirt, she lets her knuckles smooth over a part of the delicate membrane that has him gritting out her name in warning.

Elain grins, moving back around to his front to reach for the buttons of his fine pants - slowly undoing them as he kicks off his shoes just in time for her to slide his trousers and undershorts down his legs.

She can’t help the way her eyes linger on the proud length of him. On the small bead of moisture gathered at the tip that gleams in the glow of the candles, practically calling for her to put her lips on him. She’s so distracted that she barely even registers Azriel reaching back for the ribbon he’d placed on the desk a few minutes ago.

“I can think of better uses for this ribbon.” Azriel’s eyes flick up to meet hers as he smooths out the ribbon and dangles it from his fingertips.

“I can think of something even better.” Elain plucks the ribbon from his hands and backs him towards the bed with a single finger against his chest until he’s laying down. His eyes shimmer with amusement as she motions for him to put his hands above his head but he silently follows her instructions.

She kneels next to him, leans down and tries so very hard to ignore the sweet press of his lips to her sternum as her fingers make quick work of wrapping the ribbon around both of his wrists before securing the remaining length to the wooden posts of her headboard.

“You have the rest of our lives to touch me whenever and however you’d like. Let’s see how long you can last before you’re begging to touch your wife.”

She moves to settle herself on his lap but he stops her with a slight shift of his knees that sends her sliding further up his torso.

“On my tongue first.”

Elain bites down on her lower lip, her core already tightening in anticipation as she shifts further up and carefully places a knee above each of his shoulders, mindful of his wings.

“Look at you.” Azriel’s eyes are fixed on the damp lace covering her center. On the gleam of arousal that covers her inner thighs. “Such a mess already and I haven’t even begun.”

“So much talking.” Elain grumbles, her face flooding with heat at just how wet she was for him when all he’d done was take her dress off.

“Make me stop.” Azriel challenges. She huffs but slowly lowers her hips until the defined tip of his nose brushes over her, dragging her soaked underwear over her clit in a delicious slide of friction.

It’s far from the first time he’s had her like this but it is the first time he hasn’t been able to use his hands. It’s in this moment that Elain realises just how much she relies on him to guide her down to his face. To pull her hips closer and closer, to help her rock against him as she rides him. With his hands restrained, it all falls back on her to gain the confidence to use him like this.

“Sit.” The single word is laced with pure demand and she can sense that Azriel’s patience is slipping. His need to get his mouth on her overruling any of the previous gentleness he’d shown her this evening.

She does as she’s told and her hands fly out to grasp for purchase on her headboard at the first pass of Azriel’s mouth over the lace that covers her. He doesn’t give her a moment to catch her breath before he uses his teeth to tug the lace to the side as best as he can and then his tongue is on her, eagerly tasting her, consuming her with long, effortless strokes.

“I’ve missed this.” He groans against her skin. His tongue dips inside her. “ I’ve missed you.”

She doesn’t have the words to admonish him. To tell him that he could’ve had her this whole time if only he hadn’t been so stubborn. But a month without having him like this has taken its toll and Elain finds that she’s utterly incapable of forming any words or sounds that aren’t a simple keening moan as she rolls her hips and chases the sensation quickly building low and intense in her stomach. Her thighs tremble, her fingers clench around the wooden posts of her bedframe and before she knows it, the wave of pleasure crests and she slumps forward - the already precarious rhythm of her hips falters as she comes hard and fast on his tongue.

Azriel’s mouth doesn’t stop working her until she pulls off of him completely but even then, she isn’t granted a single moment of reprieve besides a couple seconds to catch her breath.

He calls in his shadows and icy, invisible hands are firm around her waist, guiding her back down to where she’d started. Her hands find his cock as his shadows stay with her, slipping in between her legs and over her breasts in feather light caresses that have her aching for more despite just having come mere seconds ago.

Elain raises her eyes to look up at Azriel as she lowers her mouth to his cock. At the first slide of her tongue over his head, a particularly daring shadow slips inside her. The feeling of it is one she knows well, so similar to Azriel’s own fingers.

Elain pulls off of him for a second, glaring up at him. The menacing look she’d been going for is cut short when she gasps as the shadow still inside her presses hard against her upper wall.

“You said,” Azriel starts, eyes squeezing shut when she takes him in her mouth again. “You said I couldn’t touch you. You never said my shadows couldn’t.”

“Not fair.” Elain mumbles around the length of him, unwilling to stop the movement of her lips and tongue. She only takes him deeper, relishing in the way his hips lift to push himself further down her throat.

“Did you think I’d forgotten?” More of his shadows are in her hair now, tugging at her roots with delicious pressure. “All those times you’ve taunted me this past month? Did you think I would forget?”

She gives him a subtle shake of her head, hollowing her cheeks around him all the while.

She’d been praying that he wouldn’t forget, that he’d catalogue all those moments until he could finally deliver on that promise of punishment she’d seen gleaming in his eyes each time she’d deliberately taunt him with her words or actions.

“Touch me.” She doesn’t know how the tables have turned so quickly. How in a split second, she’s pulled off of him and has relinquished all control to him - begging him to touch her instead of the other way around as she’d initially planned. “Azriel, please.”

His shadows aren’t enough and too much time has passed. They’ve put it off too long and the thread between them has grown too taut. She wants his hands. His fingers. She wants him inside her.

Elain blinks and Azriel’s hands are free. She blinks again and she’s on her back in the exact spot he had just been. His hazel eyes burn into hers as his hands - those glorious, beautiful scarred hands - smooth over every inch of her body that’s within their reach.

“Please.” She begs again, unsure as to what she’s even asking for. All she knows is that there’s greater forces at play and her wants and desires are careening dangerously out of control.

“Okay.” Azriel nods and suddenly it’s clear as day to her that he’s experiencing the exact same thing on the other side of the bond glowing between them. There’s a new sense of urgency to his words. To his actions. His calloused thumbs drag over her nipples. “Okay, my love.”

He moves a hand inbetween her legs and pushes her thighs further apart and then she feels him, hot and heavy against her sex. He drags his cock over her twice, coating himself in the arousal he’s pulled from her. A moment later he’s inside her and Elains swears it’s the best thing she’s ever felt in her entire life.

“It feels…” She can’t finish her sentence. She’s too overcome by a wave of emotions so intense that it wracks through her body. That thread between them that had seemed so tangible for the past month had suddenly solidified into something else entirely. She could feel it in her blood. In each and every nerve. Could feel him. Each of her emotions - all the joy and the pleasure and the relief - it was all amplified. Doubled. Because she could feel his twin emotions on the other side of this new connection.

It had snapped. The bond had finally snapped into place once and for all.

Elain laughs, high and bright, and full of disbelief because each time she had thought that what she felt for him couldn’t possibly be topped, she had been proven wrong.

“I know.” Azriel sweeps back the hair clinging to her sweat slick forehead and keeps his eyes on hers.

“It just…” Elain gasps, fingernails clawing at his back in a desperate attempt to get even closer to him. To feel even more of him.

“I know.” Azriel repeats, lowering his mouth to hers in an all consuming kiss that renders her utterly useless. “I felt it, too.”

Azriel continues to whisper sweet nothings into her skin as he takes her, his hips meeting hers as he delivers long smooth strokes that have her crying his name.

“Want you to come with me, okay?” He says gently, waiting until her eyes focus on his and she nods that she had in fact heard him before he bends one of her knees to her chest and picks up his pace.

The new position has tears forming in the corner of her eyes from the sheer bliss that courses through her. It’s a feeling that’s only heightened when he brings a hand in between their bodies to thumb at her clit.

“I meant every word.” Azriel murmurs, his forehead pressed tight to hers. “You’re my sun, Elain.”

The smooth movement of his hips stutters and she knows he’s close.

I spent the first part of my life shrouded in darkness with only shadows for company. I thought I’d learnt what it was to live in the light of day again but I didn’t truly know what it meant to feel the warmth of the sun until you looked at me for the first time.

The beautiful words Azriel had said to her earlier in the garden echo in her head and she can’t stop the sob that escapes her at the reminder of the vows they’d made. At the promises they’d sworn - the declarations to love and to cherish each other for the rest of their long, immortal lives.

“I love you.” Her hands land on either side of his face and she holds him to her, kissing him deeply as he spills inside her. Her muscles contract around him, an endless pulsing sensation that makes her ears ring and her eyes go blurry.

He says it back to her - three words chanted over and over again in combination with her name as he fills her.

Her blood pounds through her veins and her heart feels like it’s going to explode out of her chest. No amount of reading and research into mating bonds would have prepared her for the magnanimity of what she felt in this moment.

It isn’t until Azriel pulls out of her and kneels in between her legs that her eyes focus and she regains any sense of who or where she is. He gently pries her legs further apart and his eyes darken at the sight in front of him. She watches as he takes two of his fingers and collects the come smeared on her thighs. It coats his fingers and the sight of a small bit of it sliding off the knuckle of his middle finger and landing over the gold band on his ring finger is so beautifully filthy that it has her holding back a moan.

“Back where it belongs.” Azriel says the words with a satisfied, purely male smirk and Elain’s breath hitches as he slides his fingers back in her, fucking his spend back inside her. She shivers at the sensation of cold metal grazing her skin.

“Sometimes when I see you like this - your pretty cunt so wet and swollen, so full of my come that it drips out…” He pauses for a second, eyes fixated on the easy slip of his fingers in and out of her. “I wonder why I still take the tonic every morning.”

Elain summons the energy to prop herself up on her elbows so she can look at him. She’s shocked at his admission, at all that it entails.

“If you want me to call you daddy, Azriel, all you had to do was ask.”

It’s a weak attempt at humour, a pathetic attempt to buy her some time as she tries to figure out what to say.

Azriel’s head tips back and he laughs in that way that makes her heart ache with love for him.

“I’m serious, Elain.” He gives her a soft smile, his fingers still moving within her. “If you want that with me, I… I’d be honoured.”

“I need,” she gasps when his fingers curl inside her, pressing against the spot he knows will get her where he wants her to be. “To think.”

“Okay.” He agrees. “Whenever you’re ready. If you’re ever ready.”

“After this…” Elain’s back arches off the bed and her legs threaten to close but Azriel holds her open for him with his other hand.

“After the frenzy.” He completes her thought for her and watches, completely enamored as her head tilts back and her slender fingers frantically clutch at the sweat soaked sheets.

“With a clear head.” She barely manages to get out the words. “We’ll talk about it.”

She’d need a clear head to discuss that particular subject because right now, with how unbelievably aroused she was at the idea of his fingers pushing his come back inside her - back where it belongs - she’d do just about anything he asked of her.

Azriel only leans forward, crowding her body with his as he once again sends her falling over the edge. Her moans are swallowed eagerly by his mouth.

“Always take me so well.” He praises her. “So beautiful each and every time you come for me.”

When she finally settles, utterly spent against the mattress, Azriel moves to pull back but Elain clambers to keep him with her and she finds herself startled by her own automatic reaction to him moving even a fraction of an inch away. She buries her face in his neck, drawing in the scent of him - that cedar scent that is now completely intertwined with notes of jasmine and honey- and the depth of her desire terrifies her.

Elain can’t fathom that there will be a time where she won’t need to feel the weight of him on top of her. Couldn’t imagine that there’d be a second of the foreseeable future in which she wouldn’t need to feel the warmth of his skin under the tips of her fingers. The possessive quality that already lived deep within her bones had grown into a whole new monster because even though she’s been told over and over again that it’s the males who get territorial once a mating bond has been accepted, the way in which she needs to have Azriel all to herself makes her feel confident that she could rip someone to shreds if they looked at him for even a second too long.

“I never want to leave this bed.” Elain sighs, fingers slipping down the expanse of his back as she arches upward, her breasts pressing against his chest. She’s delighted when the shift of her body allows her to feel him hard against her stomach again because despite her sore muscles and the tiredness seeping into her bones, she’s somehow immediately ready for him. Desperate to have him inside her once more.

“Too bad.” Azriel’s lips skate up the column of her throat until his lips are right over her ear. “Because I intend to fuck you on every single surface in this house.”

He sinks into her again and Elain is convinced once and for all that this frenzy might never end.

#elriel #elriel fic #sjmromanceweek2024 #elain x azriel #elain archeron #azriel #so very nervous for this to go out bc i've been putting off finishing this for far far far too long #my writing #acotar fanfiction

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tashacee · 9 months ago

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For master mode, has Warriors and Wind ever wondered if they'd meet Mask again? Or what about shenanigans with Time and members of the chain who like fire a little too much?

Love all your writing!!! ♥️

Ooooh so first: Wars and Wind FREQUENTLY wonder about meeting Mask aagain and Time is FRUSTRATED. Right up until he transforms back and gives them a big ol hug.

Second:

Master of Flames

Time found it funny how timid the rest of the Chain had been around him about fire at first. As if he might be offended by it. He had spent a lot of time in (read: breaking into) the Deku Palace in Termina and he could confirm that those guys absolutely did not have a problem with fire.

It was nice of his brothers to be so concerned for him, but he had waved them off and encouraged them to light fires as and when they saw fit.

Uh.

Maybe he shouldn't have encouraged them quite so much.

It wasn't a problem! It was just. Uh.

...

It was a bit of a problem.

The first time was in a battle. Wind had fired a fire arrow while running and it had lodged deep in Time's arm. He didn't exactly feel things the same now that he was made of wood so he just felt a dull thud and ignored it. It was only when his arm suddenly flared into pins and needles and Wild shrieked, throwing one of his weird water fruit things at him, drenching him.

His arm had been on fire. He hadn't even realised.

Oops?

Wind had been inconsolable, desperately apologising over and over again, even when Time cradled him in a hug and stroked through his hair. It had been a genuine accident, after all.

Still. Time was a little more careful after that. Especially around his more... fire-happy brother. Wild's bombs had singed his branches more than once and Twilight may have been a wolf, but Time had seen him on his adventure and knew that a lack of opposable thumbs had not stopped him from setting fires before.

So, well. He had to be more careful around fires. But his brothers looked out for him and when occasionally he did find himself set aflame, there was always someone there to put him out again.

And to laugh at him.

There was a lot of laughing.

#it me #replies #hero’s aspect au #hero's aspect #my writing

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lucienarcheron · 10 months ago

Text

Spirit Meets the Bones - III

Genre: Angst/Romance Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse.

biggest shoutout to @abruisedmuse ♥️ for keeping me sane while writing! ily.

Find it all here.

Eris immediately knew he had made a mistake when he stood behind her, his hands inches away from her hair. He had been itching to touch her, especially when she kept getting angry with him. He could almost see her driving his own dagger into his throat and in a way his mother would be very concerned, it thrilled him.

He'd always known whoever he'd marry would be his father’s choice and naturally, had expected a snake of a wife, one that wanted his power and influence. He hadn’t expected to find one that mirrored his own survival instinct.

“May I?” he finally asked quietly and again, the air between them seemed to go taut. He watched Iris swallow through the mirror, saw her eyes dip for a moment to the dagger in her hand before looking up back at him, and then she nodded.

Eris paused, even with her permission. Touching her hair seemed to feel too intimate for them. Just being in the same room like this seemed too intimate and Eris had barely touched her.

Hesitantly, and much more gently than Iris seemed to anticipate, he began pulling out the pins that had been out of her reach and placed them on the vanity in front of her.

Typically...typically his hand was fisted in a female’s hair. To be pulled. Yanked. Rarely, if ever, had he touched gently, and it slightly unnerved him to feel so starved that he was reduced to touching her hair so tenderly like an absolute idiot.

“A question for a question.” she said, breaking the silence, and his lip quirked.

“A question for a question.”

“You said you were ordered to get married…” Iris began, and Eris’s fingers halted for a fleeting second before continuing. “Why couldn’t you choose your bride? Or say no?”

Eris hummed softly. How was one to describe the tyrant of a father he had? The one person he fantasized about murdering each day?

“My father...runs a very tight ruling in our court and household. As I’m sure you’ve heard,” he said quietly, his eyes solely focused on each hair strand that fell loose. “You do as you are told unless you can convince him otherwise. My reasons weren’t convincing enough. I’ve only ever disobeyed my father once and paid dearly for it.”

“What did you disobey him about?” she asked, and Eris tried not to pause again, his eyes hyper-focused on the slight pout in her frown, her furrowed eyebrows.

“Ah, ah. My question now.” he replied, tugging on a loose strand of hair gently, and chuckled when Iris scowled. She gestured with her hand for him to continue.

“How did you learn to defend yourself?”

She was quiet for a moment and Eris watched her in the mirror with curiosity. “I used to sneak in and watch my father’s guard train. I’d wait until my father was out on business and then practice.”

“By yourself?”

“...With a friend.”

“Oh?”

Iris rolled her eyes though her cheeks had colored slightly. “I exchanged a few kisses and touches for a sparring partner. It helped me.”

Eris felt heat coil in the pit of his stomach, a flicker of simmering anger he had no business feeling. “Did he...take advantage of you?”

Iris quirked her brow. “That’s three questions to my one.”

“But did he?”

“Why do you care?”

Indeed. Why did he care? It wasn’t as though he could do anything about it now if the male had taken advantage of her.

But then Mor flashed in his mind and Eris frowned. He had paid dearly for pretending he hadn’t cared about her in that moment of weakness. This, here, shouldn’t matter to him. Yet, he asked once more.

“Did he?”

Pursing her lips, Iris sighed. “No. I enjoyed the attention and allowed it. We didn’t get too far anyway. My father found out and banished him then beat me.” she explained, and Eris could see right through the nonchalant shrug she gave. “I wasn’t allowed to shame him by fucking the middle class. I was being saved for a prince.”

She gave him a sarcastic smile here and Eris tried not to smirk. “Thank you, wife. I’ll gladly take the burden of your maidenhood off your hands as soon as we get you out of this dress.”

“Please go toss yourself out of the highest window.”

“I can’t. I must insist on only dying by your hands.”

“Then death is near, husband.”

Eris chuckled, fingers stilling again as he pulled the last pin, watching as her hair cascaded down her back, desperately trying not to think about the feel of it between his fingers. “I’d believe you except you still need help with your dress.”

Iris rolled her eyes. “Once you’re dead, I’ll just tear it off, it’s fine.” she replied, watching his hands still inches away from her hair. “I’ll be a widow. They’ll think I ripped it apart in my grief.”

“Not that I ravished you and then died of bliss?”

Shooting him a glare, she held up the dagger. “Answer my questions. You owe me three.”

Eris rolled his eyes but with one final glance at her hair, he moved away, leaning against the vanity and faced her.

“To answer your earlier question, you must have heard about my brother Lucien and his former lover?”

Iris nodded solemnly. Everyone had heard about that. It was one of the many reasons everyone hated Beron.

“Well, I refused to participate and warned Tamlin about Lucien. Naturally, my father did not appreciate the disobedience,” he said, and Iris sat back in her chair, dagger still in hand.

“Is that why he didn’t come to the wedding?”

“My father’s death will be the only reason Lucien would come here willingly,” he replied with a snort, crossing his arms. “He and his mate have invited us over for lunch whenever you’re up for it. You can meet them then.”

“Assuming I don’t slit your throat in your sleep, of course?” she said with a pleasant smile and Eris chuckled.

“Of course.” he replied with a gracious nod of his head. “Now answer my questions, wife. Tell me about your father.” he requested.

Iris pursed her lips, a finger stroking the edge of the blade. “My father...as charming as he claims to be with everyone outside of my household...Lord Aron thrives on control.” she began, running her free hand through her loose hair. “My mother’s death was not in his control. Having me was not in his control.” Iris met his gaze. “When my mother died giving birth...He loved her in his twisted way more than he wanted me so naturally, I was the worst thing that happened to him. Especially when he wanted a son.”

“So, I assume he raised you with all the love he knew your mother would want you to have?” Eris said and the corner of Iris’s mouth curved up at the sarcasm.

“Oh yes.” she said quietly, and her expression tightened. “Your back…?’

Eris waved a hand. “Gifts.”

“But...why?” she asked quietly, her eyes locked on his.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I asked first.”

Eris’s lips went into a thin line and he rubbed a finger to it, debating how honest he should be with her. Judging by the hardened look in her eyes, it felt pointless to deny it.

“They weren’t all meant to be mine, but I got in the way often enough.” he said quietly and at the way her face fell, he knew she was aware of who he meant. He watched her throat bob.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Iris replied and pushed the chair back, standing. “Help me with my dress. I’m tired.”

Eris cocked his head and blinked. “Why?”

“Why what?” she asked wearily, looking over her shoulder at him before facing the mirror and Eris frowned, unsure how to ask her to continue.

Why was he asking? He knew his family was miserable. Her life had clearly been the same. It didn’t help that his mother taking the brunt of his father’s abuse seemed to mirror the fear she likely had for herself with him. His frown deepened and Eris flexed his fingers. All these years with his parents had only solidified his stance to never harm a female. The only black spot on his record was Mor and the real story will always stay between the two of them until Mor decided otherwise.

“Never mind.” he finally said and attempted his previous bravado. “It’s time to unwrap you, wife.”

Iris narrowed her eyes at him through the mirror and slowly held up the dagger again. “One wrong move, Vanserra.”

He chuckled, though it had lost some of its mirth. “I’ll behave.”

With her eyes still locked on his, Iris moved her hair to the side and said nothing, though Eris noticed the tension had returned to her body. He glanced at her for just a brief moment then his gaze fell to her back and the ties holding her dress together. The white gown she wore hugged her figure snuggly — beautifully, and Eris appreciated the chance to admire it again.

Slowly, carefully, his hand found its way to the top and his fingers gently pulled on the knotted ties.

He hesitated then.

Eris knew he shouldn’t be nervous to help her with her dress. He had taken dresses off the bodies of many beautiful females in his life. This should be nothing.

“What’s wrong?” she asked quietly, and he looked up, meeting her eyes briefly before bringing it back to the dress.

“Nothing.” was all he said and focused on the ties. Carefully, he slipped his fingers beneath each ribbon tying the top together, and pulled to loosen them. Eris felt her stiffening as he made contact with her back, a small breath escaping her lips and he froze, meeting her gaze again in the mirror. Iris flushed and Eris’s eyes zeroed in on the bob of her throat. He lifted a brow and spoke softly, “May I continue?”

Iris looked away from him but nodded all the same and it took Eris a moment to tear his gaze from the flush of her cheeks and back to the dress. If this was the only time he was going to touch her for a while...it seemed wise for him to take his time. Wise to drink in the sight of the soft curls of her hair that fell to the side, the exposed long neck. It was the most skin he was seeing of hers and oh...the flush of color against her olive skin ignited a feeling of longing in him.

A longing for something normal.

Leave it to his father to find him a breathtaking wife who wanted nothing to do with him.

Working at an even slower pace, Eris slipped one finger at a time between each ribbon of the corset and pulled gently, Iris backing into him with each tug.

“Don’t yank.” she said, a slight breathlessness to her words as she pulled away slightly, finally letting go of the dagger and bracing her hands on the vanity. “You’ll ruin it.”

“You have no idea how badly I want to, wife.” he replied softly and pulled the last ribbon treacherously slowly. Much to his agonizing dismay, she wasn’t wearing anything under it.

Eris took in the bare skin that the dress exposed, from the top of her back down to the dip and he wondered if she could hear the pounding of his heart, and feel the heat of his gaze on her lovely skin – no scar in sight, unlike his own. Before Eris could stop himself, his fingers traveled down the bareness of her back and a shock zipped through his body.

He heard her gasp and whip around, holding her hands across her chest to keep her dress from slipping and stared at him with wide eyes.

“Don’t.” she whispered to him, but Eris could only stare at her. He stared and slowly leaned in closer, letting his hands settle on the vanity she was leaning against, caged between his arms.

They silently stared at one another, a different kind of tension between them now.

Eris stared, his expression stoic as he drank in every one of her features. The sharp cheekbones, the lovely nose, her parted lips. His eyes fell to the now exposed collarbones and he had to clamp down on the sudden urge to lean in closer and lick them.

His amber eyes found her hazel ones, reading the mistrust in them, the hesitation — but he could only think of one thing to say.

In the softest of murmurs, he spoke, “I don’t think I was given the chance to tell you how beautiful you are, Iris.”

Iris blinked and her flush deepened as she frowned slightly. “Thank you. You can back away now.” she replied and the corner of his mouth quirked up, leaning in even closer.

“But I would prefer not to.” he whispered, and Eris regretted standing there shirtless, positive she could see the goosebumps on his flesh that matched the ones on her skin.

“I don’t really care.” she whispered in return and Eris tilted his head in amusement, the space between their lips even closer.

“But wife?” his voice still soft, barely above a whisper and Iris clenched her jaw, roses blooming on her cheeks.

“What?”

“I would really like to kiss you.” he requested, and was mesmerized watching the changes in her expression. The widening of her eyes in surprise, the attraction she seemed to be fighting, and lastly, when her expression hardened.

“No.”

“No?”

"No.”

Eris hummed in thought, unsure if he could hold back his smirk as she shifted between his arms. “Why?” he asked, the question practically a whine. “We are married after all.”

Iris met his gaze, her eyes flicking to his lips for a second before she looked at him again. “You’ll only end up wanting more.” she replied quietly.

“And is that so wrong?” he asked, his hand coming up to gently brush her hair behind her ear but froze when she flinched.

His eyes narrowed, his hand midair as Iris flushed, glaring at him.

Firmly, and not breaking his gaze, Iris lowered his hand to his side and held it there. “Don’t.” she repeated, and Eris pursed his lips.

“Are you afraid of me, little gazelle?”

“Trust isn’t so easily earned.”

And the two stared at each other, seizing each other up for what felt like the millionth time that evening. They shared a heated gaze, her hand still on his.

“I’m sure a kiss could persuade you to change your mind.” Eris proposed and leaned even closer to her.

“You seem desperate, husband.” she replied and against every instinct, leaned closer to him as well. “The scent of your lust is filling the room.”

“You should be flattered.”

“I’m disgusted.”

“The flush of your cheeks tells me you’re a liar.”

Iris rolled her eyes and finally shoved him away as Eris chuckled. “I am flushed in anger. Don’t think so highly of yourself. I’ve only known you for a few hours and you’re very annoying.”

“Why thank you, darling wife.” he said, and he only allowed himself a small smile before turning to watch her walking towards the closet. “Do you need additional help?”

“No. I need something to sleep in.” she replied, a hand still holding up her dress, the other opening the closet door.

“Oh, I took the liberty of choosing something for you to sleep in.” Eris said, running a hand through his hair, watching her. “It’s on the bed.”

His lips twitched slightly as Iris’s gaze moved to the bed and she blinked in confusion.

“There’s... nothing there.” she said, squinting at him and Eris waved a hand.

“Nothing will look fantastic on you.”

Her expression flattened and Iris looked to the dagger still on the vanity, far away from her and Eris grinned when she settled on flipping him off with a glare. “Go fuck yourself.”

“I’d much rather fuck you, wife.” he said with a chuckle, and Iris’s glare intensified.

“Keep dreaming, asshole.”

“The tension between us will need an outlet, my dear Iris. Especially if this is our first night together.” Eris said with an exaggerated, long-suffering sigh. “I can’t imagine how much worse it’ll get the more we spend time together.”

“There’s nothing to imagine.” she growled. “Except sweet, sweet death.”

“We can fuck this once and get it out of our systems. You can go back to hating me afterward,” he suggested, and Iris only glared at him once more before turning to the closet and rummaging through it. “No sense in denying it, hm?”

It took her a full moment of silence with Eris smirking at her back before Iris closed the closet door, sleeping clothes in hand.

“Running a sword through your body will ease this tension you’re feeling.”

“I’d rather we kissed aggressively.”

“If you keep this up, I’m going to make sure you die in the most embarrassing way possible.”

“You mean when you murder me?” Eris said with a smile.

“Yes. When I murder you.” she confirmed.

“You have your work cut out for you then. I’m embarrassed by very little.”

Iris squinted at him then looked down at the clothes in her hand, her fingers rubbing the fabric gently. He watched her look at him, bite her lip, then look away and Eris’s whole body straightened. Slowly, Iris placed the sleeping set she chose for herself on the table closest to her and walked towards him. Eris focused on each step she took and then held his breath when she stopped in front of him.

“Are you sure?” she said softly and very suddenly, she was closer to him than she had been all night, the weight of her body pressing into him.

“Am I sure about what?” he asked quietly, his hands flexing at his sides. Should he touch her? Or would it scare her away? She had said don’t.

“That it would be difficult for me to embarrass you?” she asked, finally letting go of her dress, bringing her hand so her fingers gently grazed his shoulder. Eris’s eyes zeroed in on the dip in her dress that had exposed the top of her cleavage.

“Hm?” he said stupidly, his eyes back on her face to find her smiling coyly at him and Eris blinked, fully aware of what she was doing. Of how her fingers were now slowly trailing down his chest and back up.

“Do you think,” she began and leaned close to his ear, her hand resting over his heart. “It would be embarrassing for you to die while at attention? Just before a release?”

Eris blinked. “What —”

Her hand went up and she flicked him as hard as possible right on the forehead. “Because I will have you so worked up, two seconds away from an orgasm thinking you’ve earned me, then stab you in the heart and leave you to bleed out if you don’t stop making inappropriate jokes. Keep pushing your limits with me, I dare you.”

Eris blinked rapidly, his hand coming up to touch the stinging on his forehead.

“Did you just...flick me? Like a child?”

“Didn’t know if your pretty face could handle a good smack, husband.” Iris replied, flipping him off once more then stomped away from him, grabbed her change of clothes, and slammed the bathroom door behind her.

It took Eris a moment to realize that indeed, he now had a hard-on and a small laugh huffed out of him. Rubbing his forehead, he slowly walked to the bed and sat down, letting out another little laugh.

This whole day had felt like he’d been dunked into a bucket of water repeatedly and then thrown into a pit of darkness. He felt disoriented with how quickly everything had changed and whiplash from his conversation with Iris. He was unclear of where they stood now. Where did he stand with her?

Eris thought back to the feeling of her between his arms, when she was only inches away from kissing him. He thought back to her flushed cheeks, the intake of breath when his hands had touched her back, her glares.

He grinned broadly. Maybe being married wouldn’t be so bad. It was clear she didn’t really hate him. She was more worried for her safety.

His smile immediately dimmed at that, remembering how she flinched when he wanted to touch her hair.

He sighed then quickly stripped the bottoms he was wearing, changing into sleeping pants. Though he typically preferred to sleep in undershorts or completely nude, Eris had a feeling Iris would actually kill him if he wasn’t decent. Just as he finished hanging up his dress clothes, the bathroom door opened and his head snapped to her side, meeting her eyes.

And oh.

She was wearing sleeping pants and a shirt that was twice her size — meant for him.

He raised a brow with a small smile. “Those...are mine, aren’t they?”

Iris blinked at him then shrugged, walking to the vanity and grabbing the dagger. She pointedly ignored him as she walked past him.

“What’s yours is mine, is it not, husband dear?”

Eris smirked. “No lingerie for me then?”

“Knock yourself out if you’d like to wear some.”

“You want to see me in lingerie, wife?”

“I’d much rather die.”

He chuckled and shook his head, watching her make her way to their shared bed, not wanting to think about her in lacy nothings. “Hm. I still think nothing would look best on you.”

Iris pointed the dagger threateningly at him. “My patience with you is wearing thin.”

And just like that, his new wife had climbed into their bed.

It took Eris a few seconds to realize what she was doing as she crawled on the bed, as the first image of her on her knees had taken him down a very indecent road. He could only watch in amused silence as Iris started stacking pillows down the length of the bed between them. Iris only narrowed her eyes at him, as if daring him to laugh before turning to her side and laying down, the dagger sliding underneath her pillow.

As if pillows would stop him if he chose to be a monster.

But he wouldn’t.

Eris frowned as he climbed onto his side of the bed and lay flat on his back, an arm under his head. He let a few moments of silence pass between them before he finally spoke.

“Iris?”

He felt her shuffle and a few seconds passed before she replied.

“Eris.”

“Tomorrow, we both have roles to play,” he began quietly and felt her still. “Everyone will be expecting it.”

“And what roles will that be?”

“You, the shy new wife that had the life fucked out of her and is embarrassed that people know.” he continued, “Me, the sated husband who fucked the life out of you and got what’s mine.”

Iris shot up and glared at him over the pillow barricade. “The conqueror and the conquest, hm?” She spat, repulsed.

Eris sat up with an eye roll. “That’s what they’ll be expecting to see and I for one, live to meet expectations.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Not as disgusting as they’ll be expecting me to be with you.” he said with a scoff. “You’re lucky they stopped checking if couples consummated marriages the morning after.”

Iris frowned and looked away from him, her fingers fiddling with the edge of his shirt that covered her body. “It doesn’t have to be that way and you know it.”

Eris was quiet for a moment. “No, it doesn’t but…it is in our best interest to play by the expectations so that no one looks too closely at us.”

Iris tilted her head, her mouth a thin line. “Your father.”

“And yours.” he said pointedly, and Iris swallowed.

“But...I don’t want to be seen that way. I want to be me.”

“Unless you want them saying I fucked some confidence in you, you can’t change who they want to see overnight.”

“Gods.” she scoffed. “Just taking all the credit for it, aren’t you?”

He gave her a small smile. “I aim to please.”

Iris pursed her lips then scowled, shooting him a look full of disdain. “I could also seem disappointed which will clearly indicate you couldn’t perform, and your little wife was left unsatisfied.”

Eris barked a laugh and lay back down on his back. “Oh wife, you are a funny one.” he said and felt her plop down on her side. “No one will believe that.”

“My disappointment will be authentic enough, no one would doubt it.” She begrudgingly replied.

Eris rolled his eyes. “You really sure you don’t want to just fuck this out? I’m sure we’ll feel better afterward and that way we’ll start off our marriage honestly.”

“One more word on this and you’re sleeping on the floor.”

“I am the firstborn son of a high lord.”

“Kiss my ass.”

“I’d be happy to. Just bend over, wife.”

She only raised her hand to flip him off and Eris chuckled.

He waited a few more minutes in silence, listening to the slight shifting of her feet and the thundering of her heart. Despite her words, she still seemed to be nervous. A part of him couldn’t blame her. He wouldn’t want to be married to him either.

He lifted himself on his elbows to peer at her over the pillow barricade between them and found her curled up on her side, her back facing him.

And suddenly he found himself nervous.

“If it wasn’t clear before, I want to make it clear again,” he began, and she turned slightly to meet his eyes over her shoulder. “I have no intentions of hurting you. I don’t want this marriage to be miserable. Even if it’s what everyone’s expecting.”

She looked away from him for a moment then looked back at him once more. “Even with all the things you’ve said earlier?”

“I consider it my civic duty to tease my wife.” he said and felt her eyes roll. “Among other things.”

“Other things?”

“I could also be your friend.” he found himself saying quietly, the tips of his ears heating as Iris flushed and turned away quickly. Eris felt his whole body burst into flame, his face flushing as he slumped back into the mattress, embarrassment coursing through him.

He had threatened her. Tried to kiss her. Clearly would love to fuck her. And then like a complete and utter imbecile tells her he wants to be her friend. He suddenly felt blessed his bride was picked for him instead of attempting to woo anyone. He used to have some game.

Eris only stopped debating whether he should set himself on fire and be done with the misery he was feeling when Iris spoke up, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know if I can be your friend.” she said.

Eris paused. “Why not?”

“I’m still fantasizing about choking you.”

“Mm. That’s a shame,” he replied, the corner of his mouth lifting at the absurd response. “I’m still fantasizing about kissing you.”

A moment of silence passed, and Eris turned his head slightly to find that Iris had sat up, her eyes peeking over the pillow barricade and she quietly said, “A question for a question.”

Eris sat up on his elbows again. “A question for a question.”

She paused again, seemingly weighing her question then bit her lip. “Will you...would you ever force me? If I didn’t want to?”

“Never.” he immediately responded. “I have no intention of being the monster people seem to think I am.”

He felt her relief sweep through the room and a bitterness curled in his stomach as he dropped back on his back and Iris hid back on her side. Why hadn’t he thought of a moment like this? Where his wife would think he was a piece of shit big enough to torture her in that way?

“What’s your question then?” her voice carried over to him and Eris realized then, that he wanted whatever this was between them to work out.

There was no need for it to be awful. They could make it work…right?

With his gaze locked on the ceiling, he swallowed and then quietly said, “Do you think you would eventually be willing to be my friend?”

And the difference in their questions struck him then. She wanted to feel safe. He wanted a companion. He glared at the ceiling as embarrassment washed over him again, threatening to drown him at how stupidly vulnerable he let himself be with her.

A stranger. Yet, not.

He waited for her to say something and when a few moments passed and she hadn’t, he sighed softly. Eris had almost drifted off to sleep when he heard her mumble a response.

“Maybe.”

He blinked sleepily and lifted himself on his elbows to peer at her over the pillow barricade between them one last time. “Maybe?”

“Maybe.”

Eris lay back and his eyes fell on the ceiling again. The atmosphere was still a little tense, but it had dampened down, not quite as suffocating.

Maybe was good. They’d only know each other for a few hours. Eris found maybe to be very, very reasonable.

“Goodnight, Iris.” he whispered then, hoping the night carried his wishes in the words.

A heartbeat later, the night breeze carried back Iris’s.

“Goodnight, Eris.”

#eris vanserra #eris vanserra x oc #eris x oc #eris vanserra fanfic #acotar fanfiction #gfics #smtb chapters #if you'd like to be tagged or removed pls let me know!#tumblr's tagging system sucks and it doesn't allow me to tag some people :(

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raewritesfiction · 9 months ago

Text

Wanna Find Out? [Alexander Skarsgard]

A/N: fleshing out a quick idea. Sorry for the formatting, I’m on mobile.

Plot: getting drunk with good friend Alex and a question arises.

Pairing: Alexander Skarsgard X Female!Reader

Warnings: Smut. Oral (M & F receiving), Unprotected sex (always use a condom!), Alcohol

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Your day had been shitty but your evening was going much better as you had steadily gotten a little happy drunk with your friend Alex, relaxing on his sofa with random bad movies playing in the background as you set the world to rights and talked absolute bullshit.

Alex shuffles and sinks down, his head resting on the sofa back as you watched another horror with predictable teens getting drunk, fucking and then murdered before anyone could do anything. You could swear you’d seen it before but it could just be it was so similar to the previous one.

You tilt your head as a full frontal of a man comes on screen and you raise an eyebrow. “No way is that real… gotta be prosthetic.”

Alex chuckles and swigs his beer “maybe…. Dunno. He could just be an elephant.”

You laugh and finish your drink “….so what about you? I’ve seen Big Little Lies… was yours a prosthetic?” You pour another glass and can feel Alex’s eyes on your back but you don’t turn to look at him as you lean back.

“You wanna find out?” He raises an eyebrow and looks over to you.

Your glass rests on your lip as you blink and turn to meet his gaze “oh? That easy? I just had to ask?”

“Yup…” he nods and swigs his beer, finishing the bottle.

“Okay.. okay then.” You down your whiskey “whip it out..”

Alex puts his bottle down and pushes down his sweatpants to free himself. Apparently he had forgone underwear for comfort. Your eyes wander down from his face to his cock and you can’t help but let out a gasp “oh… no… no prosthetic needed.” You lick your lips at the sight and shuffle to face him.

“Nope…” he shakes his head and smirks “never needed one… though I will say it was damn cold in True Blood!” He goes to pull his sweats back up but you stop him, “no need to cover up so soon…”

“Oh..?” He raises an eyebrow and watches you shuffle to face him and lean down, dragging your tongue down his length. “Oh!”

You hum, wrapping your hand around him and lick the tip into your mouth, sucking lightly and feeling him harden under your touch. Alex groans quietly and moves his hips to your mouth as you slowly take him deeper into your mouth until he couldn’t go any further. Deepthroating was not your forte so your hand would have to make do for what your mouth couldn’t take.

He doesn’t seem to mind as you bob your head and swirl your tongue around him making him moan louder, a hand threading into your hair while the other grips the armrest of the sofa. You look up under your lashes and watch his chest rise and fall with each heavy breath he takes, a moan on every exhale. You massage his balls with your other hand and draw out a low low growl from him, his hips bucking into your mouth and almost making you choke. Almost. He settles his hips again and pants heavily as your mouth works along his length, around the head and your tongue teases the slit.

You moan around him, barely able to open your mouth wide enough to take him you pull away briefly and pant before sucking around the head and jerking his length with your hand. He stutters and groans pulling you away fully “god fuck, not yet…”

You wipe the corners of your mouth and watch him crawl over you, pinning you down to the sofa and kissing you passionately. His lips move over your jaw and neck while he pulls at your strap top, freeing your tits for his teasing amusement. Just as Alex had gone sans underwear, your idea of comfort didn’t include a bra.

Massaging and kneading while he kisses and sucks on your nipples, his teeth scraping lightly and his fingers pinching just enough for that pleasurable pain that makes you gasp and whine. Heat fires through you down to your core and you wish you could squeeze your thighs together but Alex’s hips hold them apart.

Once he was satisfied with the nip and bite marks on your tits he moves lower and undoes your jeans, pulling them roughly down over your hips and legs until he can throw them aside to the floor. His large hand immediately moves to your pussy; his thumb circling your clit as his fingers tease your entrance. “So wet for me…”

You whine in answer and nod “I’ve thought about this a lot…”

“Me too.” He moves your leg to lay over his shoulder and kisses your calf, pushing two fingers into you slowly with ease, drawing out a mewl of pleasure from your lips. He thrusts slowly and watches your hips move to the same rhythm before dipping down and flicking his tongue quickly over your clit. You gasp and moan his name, your hands in his hair as you rock your hips to his fingers and tongue. His scissors and thrusts, curls and stretches you out while his tongue works on your sensitive and hardened nub.

You feel a flutter pulsing through you, making you whimper and arch “oh god..”

Alex chuckles against you and slowly pulls away, withdrawing his fingers from you and holding them up to your mouth to clean him off and humming “that’s my good girl…” licking his lips as he watches your tongue swirl around his fingers. He soon resumes his previous position and lays your leg over his shoulder, lining up his cock with your entrance and pushing into you, watching your pussy stretch to accommodate his size.

You arch off the sofa as you feel him deep inside you, the head of his cock neatly against your cervix when fully inside you. He kisses your ankle and calf again, settling to let you get adjusted before pulling out and rolling his hips. You gasp and grip onto his wrist as his cock fills you out in ways you hadn’t experienced before; hitting all the right spots on every thrust and roll of his hips. You moan loudly into the room and lift your hips to his movements, another pleasurable pain as he stretches you out to take him fully.

Once accustomed to his size you rock your hips a little faster, watching his face as he grips your hip and thigh, pulling you onto his thrusts.

“I can take it..” you pant and groan needily. “Please!”

Alex growls low and speeds up; his hips piston into you, pushing deep and hard making you writhe and arch on the sofa with his name falling from your lips like a mantra. His eyes move from his cock stretching you to your blissful face to your tits, moving on every thrust of his hips.

“You feel so good…” he groans and grinds his hips into you making you bend double against him. His arm moves around your back and holds you as he leans his forehead against yours. “Let go for me… cum over my cock…”

You pant and whine, unable to make a sentence as his cock drives into you relentlessly.

“Good girl…”

You moan and drop your head back “fffuuuuuuuuck!!!” Arching suddenly against Alex as you cum; your muscles tightening in pulses and pulling him over the edge with you.

Alex lets out a long moan as your pussy milks him, his eyes on your heaving chest as you both relax onto the sofa after release.

He lays your leg to the side and then himself behind you, moving carefully and not pulling out of you yet. His arm holds you close while he whispers sweet things in Swedish close to your ear, against your neck and jaw where he leaves trails of kisses.

You close your eyes and turn your head to catch his kisses, stroking his face and whispering back how good he felt.

“Never been fucked like that..” you kiss him slowly, your tongue exploring his mouth.

He hums and nips you a little “gonna have to make sure I do it again some time then.”

“How about once we’ve recovered before breakfast…?” You chuckle and keep kissing him.

“Gimme ten minutes and I’ll make your legs stop working.” He smiles and rocks his hips playfully, making you gasp.

“Deal…”

-fin-

#Alexander Skarsgard #Alexander Skarsgard Smut #Alexander Skarsgard Imagine #Alexander Skarsgård #true blood #big little lies #imagine #smut

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