#but I hope she's not just brushed aside
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Yellowjackets - Season 02
#yellowjacketsedit#yellowjackets#taissa turner#van palmer#tawny cypress#lauren ambrose#taivan#femslash related stuff#yellowjackets spoilers#so I was afraid to get fully all in on them for much of s1 because I was like what about simone#I was afraid to pick a side I mean#but once tai was like I don't feel it with her#and they started having issues... >_>#I'm only so weak#but I hope she's not just brushed aside#she doesn't deserve that after everything she's already had to put up with#but these two...they do have it :o#I'm so curious why they've been separated for so long if this is how they are in presumably their first meeting again
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it is literally not about legality, if youâre in your late 30s literally what are you hitting up 21 y/os for. Donât you have investments to make.
#Astonishing number of people will jump on the âbut itâs technically legal!â defence#But will not answer my question of whyyyyyy. If your date sounds like PTA night and you need to parent your girlfriend#you have an age gap! And! You are the lamest loser on earth; that is fact; hope this helps!!#(Okay. Lowkey? I shouldnât be thinking about this STILL. Given itâs been like a MONTH since#But I feel a lil let down and betrayed and I think Iâm still kinda processing that⌠but I#I confided in my bestestest friend that an older man was creeping on me. And I expected her to have my back 100%#And idkâ I think sheâs just had worse experiences with men and has a higher tolerance to bad behaviour than I an asexual person do#But her response was along the lines of âyouâre an adult; thereâs no problem with it really;#canât blame him for shooting his shot; itâs not really a weird age gapâ#And worst of allâ âmaybe he just has an age kink; maybe he gets off on you being youngerâ#I have to say. I donât care. The point is that I discouraged it several times and was getting increasingly uncomfortable with it#I feel like in that situation the thing to do is side with me especially when Iâm telling you all this.#And like. Sigh i donât know. I still love her with all my heart but itâs feeling a lil awkward rn#Iâm still thinking about that and obviously I donât want it to ruin the best friendship Iâve ever had#But itâs feeling a little forced right now. I expected her to have my back and for some reason her brushing this aside did make me#Feel completely invalidated and like I should just stop feeling weirded out and man up and discourage this man in wordsâ#When the thing is there was NEVER any hint of interest. I don��t feel like I should have to dignify his behaviour in terms of interest or#Attraction. Because! I just donât think you should be that forward with strangers repeatedly!! and if I think thatâs weird then Iâm sorry i#It wonât work with me! I donât like it! I think thatâs grounds enough to stop oh my god.#Iâll be seeing my bestie in a couple of weeks. Flying all the way out to England for her. I donât want this to be awkwardâŚ#but something in me is just a lil heartbroken. Like I feel the girlcode was broken. Weâve always told each other#Not to let men affect our self worth or alter our boundaries. I feel like that was violated.#(ik she said that bc her bf at the time was 30 but like. Listen to my individual situation no? This one wasnât about you I came for advice)#Rant
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Okay then
Horrible update: A BLM group decided to post in support of Palestine. Which is their right. If they feel strongly about something, they should speak up
Tara Strong went ahead and made an Instagram story saying, "What a slap in the face to the Jews who marched beside you"
That's a word for word quote
The story is gone now, but "throwawayuntilfurthernotice" has a screenshot on their tumblr
Oh, not this. :/
I used to follow her on twitter but stopped because she kept tweeting animal gore meant to shame people since she's one of those vegetarians/vegans who are a little... touchy, for lack of better words.
So I haven't been hearing of what she's doing. Needless to say, it's a crying shame that she does this, but many zionists hold activism above a group's/individual's head like it's some kind of favor to be repayed, even though it's just basic human decency.
#tara strong#i had a suspicion that since she's not a good person then others who ride for her will likely brush this aside#so i looked at Steve Blum's twitter for example and :////#sighhhhh some people have gotten REALLY fanatical about hating trump and it's led them to strange places#and like I hope that evil bastard dies too but a very large portion of otherwise liberal people turn into violent freaks#just so they can excuse biden or any other dem candidate who's complicit/responsible for terrible shit
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I hate going to india Iâm never gonna stop saying this
#it makes me appreciate how distance always makes relationships work better to an extent#permanent distance from my cousin preferably#toxic bitch#I get how annoying our grandma is but she didnât have to step on her foot and say âI hope you die soonâ what the fuck#everyone hates each other itâs killing me#my dadâs being more awful than usual too#itâs the way he puts his parents and brother over his wife and kids#I knew he did and I know he plays favorites just like his mom who likes him better and brushes her other son aside#And Ik for a fact itâs bc my dadâs bringing in more money#so sick of this no oneâs sane in an apartment w 11 ppl#.text
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Accessibility takes too goddamn fucking long.
My brother was paralyzed in October 2023. We got him home from the hospital (in Texas, when we live in Iowa) in a clunky old hospital chair. He hated it. He was scared and angry and in pain and his life had just changed forever and he couldnât do anything for himself in that wheelchair. His first goal (aside from learning how to transfer) was to get a wheelchair. My family was lucky enough to afford one so we thought it would be easy enough. Nope.
We couldnât buy him a wheelchair. He needed a prescription. For a wheelchair. A doctor had to examine him and declare him in need of a wheelchair. It wasnât good enough that he had scans and tests showing tumors cutting off his spinal cord. He needed his primary care doctor to examine him during a physical and write a prescription. He was making 2-4 transfers a day, tops. He had no energy to get to a doctor. Home health was in and out every day. He had no time to get to a doctor. He didnât get a prescription for almost a month. Then it had to go through insurance.
We asked if we could skip insurance and just buy a wheelchair for him. Nope. They wouldnât sell us one, not even at full sticker price. It needed to be approved by Medicare. We ordered a wheelchair, a nice one, a good shade of green, sporty, small. It would let him move around the house. He would be able to cook, to reach drawers and get stuff from the fridge and brush his teeth and put his contacts in at a sink. We were told it would take awhile, maybe two months. Silently we all hoped he would be around to see two more months.
He went on hospice care on a Saturday in March. On Monday, I was calling his friends to come see him before he died. I got a call on his phone. It was the wheelchair company. They were about to order his wheelchair, she said, but there was an issue with insuranceâ had he stopped being covered by Medicare? Well, yes. When he started hospice care, he got kicked off Medicare. The very nice woman I talked to told me to call her if he resumed Medicare coverage so she could order his wheelchair. He died less than 12 hours later.
We ordered that chair for him in early December. Medicare didnât approve the order until March. He was dead before they got around to it. He wanted that fucking wheelchair so badly. The only reason he had any semblance of independence and any quality of life for the last five months of his life was because the wheelchair company lent him an old beater chair, a very used model of the chair he ordered. If I could go back and change one thing about his end-of-life, I would get him his dream wheelchair. He told me again and again he couldnât wait to get it, so that he could feel like a person again. He made the best of what he had with that old beater chair, but it still makes me mad to this day. He was paralyzed. He needed a chair that afforded him dignity. We had the money for it. And yet, we were left waiting for five months, for a chair that wouldnât even get ordered until the day he died.
#sparklepants#we would have done anything we could to get him that wheelchair#nudge#disability#accessibility#spoonie#ok to rb and honestly please do
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â â OH, IT'S MINIKUNA ! â
âŽââ§âş...content: heian era!sukuna x wife!reader, fluff, mentions of childbirth, sukuna is an overly proud father, sukuna is whipped for his wife
âŽââ§âş...lunar's note: based of this little blurbie and this one too !! needed some fluff with kuna bc he would love having a baby girl idc what anyone says !!! also i did my best describing the birthing process in a time accurate period but it's definitely a bit inaccurate because...i have never had a baby LOL
no one has ever seen sukuna ryomen, king of curses, wince before.
not until today, at the wrath of his pregnant wife who somehow got a hold of his fingers instead of his hand.
one of the nurses did warn him to not give you his finger and to ensure you always hold his hand. but by the gods, he swears you almost ripped his finger off.
it's cute to him, however, when you attempt to curse him out.
'gods, sukuna, i despise your entire being!'
'i know, my wife.'
'i should've never let you get me pregnant, you animal!'
'you begged for it, my wife.'
'i am never letting you bed me again, use your hand for the rest of your existence!'
'you can't keep your hands off me, my wife, no need to lie.'
but the sigh of relief, the way you instantly look down and coo once the sound of wailing filled the air...it makes him melt just a little bit.
he can't deny, seeing you in pain made him heated. it took everything in him not to kill every midwife, nurse, and lady-in-waiting in your birth room for not being able to make this process completely painless.
except chiyo. he would have to reward your personal physician for preparing you so well for this...
what did the old hag like again? wines, meats, gifts for her grandchildren back at home?
hm, yes, that would be great for her. of course, he'll say it was from you. the king of curses shows gratitude for no one.
he's pulled out of his thoughts at the hushed whispers once the other women exam the baby before following your unspoken request to hold your child.
"d-do you think lord sukuna will harm our lady for this...?"
"i hope not, surely he can make an exception, t-they both are still young and can always try for more!"
"but he's the king of curses, t-there no way he won't have a reaction!"
before he can demand what they find so important to discuss in front of you, chiyo hushes the girls with a wave of her hand, ushering the girls to help wipe off your sweat, tears, and clean off the babyâgentle like it's the finest glass, she instructsâbefore turning to sukuna with a knowing smile.
"well, your greatness...congratulations on having a healthy and gorgeous little girl," she hums, wiping her hands with a clean cloth before going to rinse her hands to help stitch any rips and clean you up.
the room falls silent aside from your soft little coos and the wails of your daughter as you brush the wet, fluffy hair on her little head.
all the women in the room continue to work, but it's clear they are silently waiting for his outburst.
everyone knows that a proper heir to any throne is a boy...but now, sukuna's first born child is a girl.
but rather angry, yelling, and threats to your and your child's life, the room is filled with Suku's booming laughter, which practically shakes the entire room.
instead of an enraged expression, pure delight, and excitement are painted on his face as he sits next to you on the soft cushiony bedding on the floor, his hand caressing the rounded cheek of your newborn.
"so, you've given me a girl," he hums in delight, all four of his eyes narrowing. "this will be the one who takes over my throne once i decide to step down?"
this thing, this tiny, itty bitty baby...came from you both? it's almost laughable how small this baby is compared to his hand, that something so little could be related to him.
she's...nothing short of perfect. "absolutely divine...she will not just be beautiful like her mother, but as powerful as both of us."
he's so proud of you and your child. he would shower your daughter with riches, love, and anything she could ever want and ask for.
but, he couldn't lie.
she's a damned fat baby, big head and all.
"sukuna, watch your mouth!"
he can't help but laugh, not realizing his thoughts came out of his mouth. "what, it's a good thing! means she's healthy," he boasts with a grin, leaning down closer to see her better.
"she looks strong already. as soon as she is able, i will personally teach her how to be a truly malevolent little princess, how to properly slit the necks of her enemies, how toâ!���
oh, he is so excited, it's adorable.
âsukuna, shush, i just gave birth to a child with a massive head like yours, give me a moment," you say with a light laugh, your smile still reaching your clearly tired eyes.
ââŚapologies, my wife.â
chiyo can't help but laugh with you she finishes applying the healing ointment on your lower body, using a bit of her cursed energy to speed up the healing process to help you skip any serious pain.
after all, nothing but the best physician for you in sukuna's palace.
"always such an excitable boy, my lord, ever since you were a young man," she hums, helping one of the midwives properly wrap your baby in the soft, clean cloth.
"be gentle with her," you instruct him, gently moving your arms toward him so he could take the little bundle. he's...nervous, but he hides it well.
you place your daughter in his arms and he looks down at her, suddenly conscious of how loud he's breathing. she's got his hair, still a bit wet but soft and fluffy. it's pink, just like his.
a pleased rumble vibrates his chest, and he doesn't even realize he's doing it.
but then...her eyes open.
both sets.
he almost didn't notice it at first, they're just so small, but they're there. the same color as yours, pretty and big, filled with so much life.
his eyes burn, vision getting blurry. no words come to his head, he can't think of anything to say. he's so caught up in his thought he doesn't even notice chiyo ushering the other girls in the room out and shutting the door before quietly tending to you with water or food.
she knows that look, you do as well. she's been around longer than uraume to know her master, knowing the king of curses since his young years as the unwanted child of the village, abandoned by his mother for his 'horrid' appearance.
she was lucky to have found him before the villagers got to him, torches, axes, pitchforks and daggers in hand to take care of the child who they believed to have brought misfortune to their home.
getting him to safety was one of the best decisions she'd ever made, king of curses or not. no child deserved to be abandoned like that. and now, he's seeing himself in that tiny little being in his arms right now...chiyo can only imagine what he's feeling.
so, out of respect, she keeps her gaze averted, pretending she does not see the misty gaze he gives your daughter. this is a moment for you and him, and she does her best to make all her movements as quiet as possible.
all sukuna can think about in this moment is how he used to be just as tiny as this. he was just as vulnerable in his mothers arms. he couldn't talk, couldn't speak, couldn't fend for himself.
yet, his parents looked down at him just like this and decided he was an abomination and didn't give him a chance.
but now?
sukuna knows he would never, ever let anything happen to this little bundle in his arms. he would rather destroy the entire planet before letting anything happen to his baby girl. no one would make his little one suffer and live to see another day.
he flinches just a little, feeling your soft hand rubbing his bicep. "it's okay, my love," you softly coo at him, reaching up to wipe a tear from his eye before it had a chance to drip down his cheek. "she's going to grow up feeling loved and cherished because she's got a great father."
"hmm..."
a smile crosses his features as he looks back down, looking at the squirming baby so makes a little noise before calming down when he strokes her little, chubby cheek again to keep her from crying again.
"and she's got a great mother. she'll be the most wonderful princess in all of history," he says with a toothy grin, chest rumbling with a laugh.
"aww, my love, that's so sweet..."
"seriously, though, how in hells did you squeeze this thing out of ya? thing's got the head of a watermelon."
"sukuna, give me back my baby, and chiyo? get this man some food to stuff in his mouth before he says something to warrent the rage of a new mother."
all rights reserved Š lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work
#jjk x reader#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna ryomen x reader#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#ËËË â
lxnarworks .á#sukuna ryomen x you
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shoots myself in the head
#i have to see my psychiatrist and my therapist and then still go to work#im fucking exhausted#i donât wanna see my psychiatrist cause idk what to tell her#yes iâm still suicidal no the meds arenât working no i canât afford to get another change#and it feels like itâs the same thing every time with my therapist#i tell her i feel bad and she tries to give me a pep talk and i spend the entire appointment trying not to cry#and iâm just over work#idk iâm tentatively supposed to start my nights monday#i sure as hell hope so cause i canât do these mornings anymore đđť#i donât think iâm even gonna end up liking it#and iâm sick of always being spoken over and ignored and brushed aside#i know iâm timid but iâm working on it and i really do try to speak up more#but usually i just get ignored completely when i bother trying#so like. what now#snow.txt
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#virtual reality#metaverse#tw rape#my sympathies absolutely go out to the girl & i hope she gets the help she needs#and i hope the guys get caught & punished *somehow*#though this does bring up the question of: can / should you be arrested for things you do online????#does virtual rape count as equally detrimental as cyber grooming????#âif you do it to someone online then you'll do it to someone in real lifeâ is a very real concern#but im interested where the line is between That ^ and âif you think / imagine it then you'll do it for realâ#how do we prevent this behaviour without limiting freedom????#âif you have Bad Thoughts you're a Bad Personâ & âif you do Bad Things online then you're a Bad Personâ aren't miles apart from each other#tumblr...#what do you think?#is virtual rape going to be brushed aside as âimaganaryâ or invalid due to no dna evidence / join the ranks of other sa that gets ignored?#or is it going to be the tipping point which leads to Big Brother level monitoring of everyone's online activities???#or will politicians use it as a scapegoat to blame & say they're putting majorly dangerous policies in place âto protect the childrenâ???#again: i dont want it to seem like im using this girl as a tool or dismissing her trauma & i am not condoning what those men did to her#my sympathies are 100% with her on this matter#im just curious where this will be in 3 years
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âhave you seen the abs on that man?â hagakure sat across of you. âsexy on a stick, i swear!â she giggles. she was going on and on about the guy that starred in the superman movie you girls put on last night. henry cavill was his name.
mina agrees with her statement with a nod. âheâs the hottest white man iâve ever seen before.â
âsure, he was hot, but are we forgetting the misogynist comments heâs made? sexy is one thing, but being controversial is a whole ânother thing.â uraraka inserted her input.
âoh, please. iâd cook and clean for him anyday he asks.â mina retorted. both uraraka and yaoyorozu shake their head in shame.
âspeaking of controversial.â uraraka murmurs under her breath, you peer over your shoulder, wondering the intent of her statement.
you notice bakugou making his way over to your desk, his eyes planted on you and you only. you shift uncomfortably. why the hell would he be coming to you? did you do something?
once he makes his way to your desk, you look up at him with a half smile.
âhey, bakugou. whatâs up?â
his eyes analyze the other girls before looking back down on you.
âmy pencil?â
you flutter your lashes at him. âpencil..?â you repeated in a trance of confusion.
he groans. âthe fuckinâ pencil i gave you last week. i need it back.â
now it all clicks. you nod, laughing nervously because of your stupidity. you reach in your backpack and grab the black mechanical pencil that you forgot to lend back to bakugou.
your arm extends to the male in front of you, waiting for him to snatch it back.
âsorry.â
he gently grasped onto the pencil, his hand brushing against your fingers for a small moment.
âitâs whatever. just rather not be the one to find you after i lent you something.â he shoved the pencil in his pants pockets, leaving his hands in there. âthatâs one of the last pencils i have.â
you shoot your eyebrows up in defense, quickly lowering them after. your eyes falling down to your desk for comfort.
âwell, hope you take care of that one.â it was a half-joke. a lame one, might you add. you were just unsure on what to say. especially since it seemed like bakugou was lingering around your desk. as if he didnât want to return to his seat just yet.
âso, whatâd you score on your test?â
âahâŚit wasnât the best, but it wasnât horrible.â
âwell?â was he really desperate to know that bad? you knew bakugou was smart, so he probably only wanted to know so it could boost his ego.
you rubbed your arm out of shame. âa seventy-nine.â you stared at his face to recognize any humility or laughter, but there was none.
he shrugged. âshouldâve asked for my help if you needed it.â
right. you almost forgot that bakugou offered to help you study and go over notes with him for the next test. it was such an out-of-bakugou thing to do that you nearly didnât take him serious.
you nodded slowly, processing his information.
âi was planning on making it up, so maybe for that.â
âfine.â his short one-worded response was dull. but what else did you really expect? ânext time, donât steal my pencil.â was his last comment before leaving your presence.
you sat in your thoughts, reeling the conversation back in your mind. what the hell just happened? it was the most simple yet confusing conversation youâve ever had. was bakugou joking with you or was he seriously irritated with the pencil situation?
regardless, you made a mental note that bakugou was very protective over his mechanical pencils.
once bakugou returned to his seat, he unzipped his backpack, secretly opening his pencil box. within the box were a collection of pencils. there were so many pencils that he could give one to all of class 1a and 1b and still have few left.
aside sat denki who was clearly peeking inside of bakugouâs bag.
âdamn, bakubro. you saving up pencils for a potential pencil outage or something?â itâs denki. of course, he never used his inside voice.
âi will literally blow you out this fuckinâ window and across the lot.â bakugou turns his head immediately, a faint pink blush spreading across the apples of his cheek.
bakugou just didnât want you to know that the pencil was obviously an excuse to talk to you.
pt 2 of the study sesh
#just a lil quick fluffy update#henry cavill is actually so fine tho#this used to be me with my girl crush LMAO#bakugo katuski#bakugou#bakugou katsuki#bakugou x reader#bakugou smut#bnha#bnha bakugo katsuki#bnha bakugo x reader#bnha bakugou#bnha x reader#katsuki bakugo mha#katsuki bakugo x reader#katsuki bakugo my hero academia#katsuki bakugo fluff#katsuki bakugo imagine#katsuki smut#katsuki x you#katsukibakugou#my hero academia bakugou#bakugou fluff#my hero academia#mha bakugo katsuki#mha x reader#mha bakugou#katsuki bakugou#katsuki x y/n#katsuki fluff
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MEAT - thomas hewitt (leatherface)
a/n: i had to be a little silly ehe <- delusional
(cws: fem!reader, DDDNE, extreme violence, blood, gore, broken bones, a whole array of weaponry, domestic abuse, forced relationship, evolution of victim -> perpetrator, psychological torture, mentions of very dubious consent, breeding, huge size difference, ownership marking, protective tommy, implied cannibalism, unnamed victims of the tcm.)
wc: 10.7k
Lungs burning in your chest with the humid Texas heat, you forced the corn stalks aside as you stumbled through them in a frantic sprint. Each leathery pod whacked against your shoulders, your hands, your chest, and your bruised-up legs, but you wouldn't stop for nothing.
You couldn't stop. The people you'd hitchhiked with were all dead, or at least very well on their way to being so��they had been hunted one by one, by bear traps and shotguns and hay hooks, and you were sure you were the only one the family were left hunting. It'd taken all night to spread you thin and weaken you all with sadistic tortures of every kind. Now your group was down to one. You. Hauling ass was not enough to describe how frantically you were tumbling through the crop field, practically hand-over-foot crawling with how dizzy you'd gotten. Blood loss and a few hits to the head would do that to you.
Finally, the maize parted one last time to spit you out into the dewy grass, the labyrinth of sameness finally coming to an end. But when you tilted your head up to the starry night sky, your heart dropped into your feet at what laid before you. The farmhouse. You'd run in the wrong direction. Warm light glowed from within the drapery behind the windows and you spotted the older woman standing on the porch, a rag tucked between her hands as she called out a name. Terrified and hoping for the blessing of going unseen you army crawled your way right back to the cornâ
Thunk. Only halfway there, the grass split with the force of a sledgehammer dropping into it. A boot stepped into view right by your head; attached to it was an enormous calf, and your eyes trailed upwards slowly to reveal the whole of that crazed maniac you'd seen manhandling the others into that house of horrors across the lawn.
Greasy hair hung down in long tresses, wary eyes pierced into your skull, an apron sat snug around his midriff stained with dark blood. Up close, you could listen to the way he breathed heavy through the mask that obscured his lower jaw, only the bridge of his nose and his forehead visible through it. He stunk of sweat, rot, and fresh meat. His weighty hand tightened round the handle of the hammer he'd set down, veins popping out with the sheer size and strength of his enormous, hulking body.
âTommy!â The woman's voice cracked out in the night, the name finally ringing clear enough for you to hear. His head whipped around to the source and he stared in her direction; you watched her turn a blind eye to your predicament in the grass and step back inside the house. It felt as though your heart might burst in that moment, the fear and tension running through you like a taut wire about to snap in two.
The giant grunted overhead. You looked back at him again and squeezed your fists against the dirt, expecting him to lift that hammer and crush your skull into the ground with it. But upon resting his palm on the blunt end of it, the monster instead used it to lower himself to one knee. With a hand outstretched, he slowly, carefully brushed your damp hair aside, and pressed his fingertips firmly into your cheek. You shuddered as they moved downwards, probing around the soft spot beneath your ear and the curve of your jaw. He tilted your chin back and slid his whole, grubby hand down your neckâŚand with the most tentative squeeze around your throat, you swallowed and he all but jumped back. Your skin ran cool again as his warm hand ripped away from you, but with just as much hesitation he grazed your lips with his knuckles and trailed them across your forehead, leaving smudges of wet blood behind.
âTommy!â A harsher voice tore through the quiet night, yanking his attention away from you again. The sheriffâthe fake sheriff, that isâcame stomping up from around the back of the barn, the shotgun hanging at his side causing you enough panic to scramble to your knees. But you wouldn't get far. Not even a couple feet. Your body hit the earth within moments of you climbing to your feet, and you heaved out a pained moan at the mountain of weight that pinned you down and crushed you underneath him. The giant had thrown himself forward and taken you down without thinking twice; his beefy arm came around your neck and tightened, his muscles flexing under the coarse fabric of his shirt for him to hold you in place.
âAttaboy, Tommy.â The older man came around his side as you struggled, clawing at the bicep that was crushing your windpipe with barely any effort. The sheriff kicked your flailing leg with a holler, cackling at the way you squirmed under his nephew's brute strength. âStupid bitch. Gonna learn your lesson now, aint'cha?â
Dying squeaks for mercy escaped your throat, your words barely tinged with any discernible syllables. Thomasâ grip only grew tighter. Your arms went slack, then your legs slowed to a trembling haltâŚand before long your head slumped forward as you passed into unconsciousness, hoping to god this would be the last time you woke up in this sweltering Texas hell.
Clink. Clink. Clink. The chatter of voices melted into the gentle clatter of silverware. It wasn't the sounds that stirred you from your sleep rife with nightmares, thoughâit was the sliver of a sunbeam cast through the window that shone gently on your face. You blinked blearily as your head lolled in a stuttered circle, slowly and quietly coming to. Clink. Clack. Eyelids cracked half-open, you raised your head up despite the weight of a pounding headache, and watched a pair of wrinkled hands set down a teacup on a saucer in front of you.
Although there was much to see, you instantly turned your gaze to the woman you'd seen on the porch. Your nerves jittered and you flinched as she reached out to touch you, but it passed with her gentle shushing as she tenderly caressed your cheek. The age showed in creases all across her face, her eyes soft but wet with something terribly uneasy behind them.
âSuch a pretty girl,â She crooned, a smile like nothing had happened plastered across her face. The eagerness with which she watched you unsettled you to your very core, but it would be second to the nightmare that was waiting to explode on you across the table. âI always wanted a little girl. Never seen one so pretty.â Despite the sweetness of her words, a shift of your hand rattled the chair you'd been tied to; both wrists buckled under the tough ropes used to bind you, indented where you could see dry blood crusted over the fibers. Either you moved a lot in your sleep, or someone really wanted to punish you for trying to get away.
As tenderly as if she was your own mother, the lady brought your teacup up and tilted it for you to drink, which gave you a moment to let your eyes wander. With a glance around you took a mental sweep of the place. Your chair sat at the end of a dining table, and aside from the woman you spotted two other older men; the frightening man with the shotgun, and an elderly man in a wheelchair. Framed photos hung around the room against peeling wallpaper, and aside from a decent amount of clutter and antique decorations of a house long lived in, nothing struck you as out of the ordinary from the cutlery to the frayed rug that cushioned your bare feet.
The aging woman tottered around the table to pick up a plate and slid a few eggs on from a saucepan in the middle. That and a few strips of bacon made their way down to your placemat, still sizzling.
âWhy're you givinâ this bitch special treatment, mama?â The fake sheriff glared you down from his seat at the head of the table, spitting off to the side with his hands still clasped in front of him. âAlready got enough mouths to feed.â
âHush.â She finally snapped, and gestured with the spatula still in hand. âThis is your fault. You wanna play sheriff so bad, Charlie.â
âIt's Hoyt, mama, for god's sake!â
âDon't you cuss at me!â The old woman warned, aiming the spatula right at his chest.
âU-Um,â You whimpered softly, and drew the attention of all three of the frightening strangers, who turned their heads in your direction. The focus on you made you falter, but the problem at hand was far more pressing than fear. âTh-The ropeâŚplease..â You managed to squeak out, and only then did they seem to notice your hands were changing colours. They were so tight the blood wasn't circulating, and you feared even a few moments more of the ache would result in something very unpleasant in the near future, especially when you knew there was a chainsaw floating around here somewhere.
Just then, the floorboards creaked at your back. Too afraid to turn your head you only shifted your gaze, and in your peripheral you saw it. Two thick, fat-fingered hands reaching downwards to tug at the binds round your wrist. For someone so huge, he made short work of untying you even without the aid of one of the knives scattered round the table settings. The rope loosened and dropped to the floor in a coil like a dead snake, but as he reached over you to undo the otherâand you got a whiff of soap amidst his sweat in the processâthe man naming himself Hoyt grumbled and slammed his fist down on the table, rattling the plates and silverware.
âGoddammit, boyâwhat'd I say? We ain't keepinâ her, for Christ sakes!â
âWatch your mouth!â The womanâmamaâshrieked, and her fist shook as she dumped the spatula down on the table with a thunk. The other cuff came loose and you released a sigh of relief as you touched your wrists, wincing at the open cuts that had only half dried over. And while the two continued to bicker about one thing or another, a great shifting of clothes and a thump beside you caught your gaze. Thomas, the giant that you'd watched haul the others off to the slaughter, had knelt down by your chair like a dog and still came up to eye level. God, he was just massive. Somehow it made him less intimidating though, since he looked at you like he was waiting for scraps from your plate. It was somewhat pathetic, butâŚendearing? Was that a word you could even consider using for a maniac like him, or was it beyond all common logic to even think of him in such pleasant terms?
âA-Are youâŚhungry?â You whispered, only to be met with a slow shake of his head. Thomas raised a melon-sized arm and pushed the plate closer to you, as if to say âeat up, it's getting coldâ. Emboldened by his tender gesture, you shakily plucked your fork off the placemat and leaned in to examine the bacon. It looked likeâŚbacon. Hot, crunchy, cut in strips like you would see any day in the supermarket. Still, you tentatively went for the eggs first, and raised the tiniest bit to your mouth as the two older ones finally managed to settle down whatever argument they'd been having.
âBoys, time to say grace.â Suddenly flushed hot with embarrassment, you lowered your fork in an instant and followed their lead. You bowed your head with them, listened to mama say her standard prayers of thanksâand then, when everyone else began to eat, you cautiously lifted the bite to your lips and chewed thoughtfully. It felt like forever for you to discern whether or not it was normal, if it tasted like it should, but after a while of chewing you had to relent to the fact that it didn't taste abnormal, so it was about as fine as you could expect. You ate in silence alongside them, but just when you pondered whether the food might be drugged or other awful possibilities, the sheriff cleared his throat and drew your attention to him once again.
âNow,â Mama scowled at him, but he continued to speak nonetheless. âYou got two options here, kid: eat, or be eaten. Them's the laws of life.â He reached up and scratched the back of his neck, readying himself to say more, but an interruption came with a grunt from your side. Hoyt raised a hand and waved the wordless concern off. âDon't you mouth off, boy. Gettinâ to it.â
You shifted your gaze to Thomas, who only nudged your plate closer to you to urge you into eating more. Something gnawed at the back of your mind. Their behavior was so strange, the looks exchanged even strangerâthere was something that wasn't being said, like a plan was brewing right under your nose.
âSee here, this is how it is. You got choices. Now, my nephew here happens to like you,â His honeyed southern drawl couldn't hope to mask the hopelessness that stirred in you at those words. âUgly as sin, but he's a good enough boy, ain't that right?â He looked to Thomas, but the âboyâ in question stared right at you when he nodded. âSo you choose. You wanna eat-â
âI'll eat,â The answer flew from your mouth without hesitation, so much so that even the most uninterested of folks around the table caught your gaze. Your breath hitched in your bruised throat. âI'll eat, I swear. I'll eat.â
âMm-hm.â Hoyt eyed you and nodded. Something about the way he watched you made you feel overexposed, like your skin had been stripped raw from the bone and he was peering into every inch underneath. âFine then. Whore's all yours, Tommy-boy.â
At those words, your world shifted with a violent blur of motion. Before you could even gasp there were huge, strong hands under your armpits, and you were lifted out of your seat like a child who weighed less than nothing. You'd be thanking yourself later that you at least polished off most of your plate, because aside from an accidental thump of your foot hitting the table on the way by, you wouldn't be touching the rest of your breakfast again. Thomas slung you over his shoulder and cradled your lower half in the crook of an enormous arm, and with a shriek you felt yourself being carried off by the giant and taken away into another world.
The basement.
It had been a month and a half since you'd been taken in, now. Life had gone on despite you vanishing from the world you knew, and regardless of whether or not you woke up each morning and wondered why you were still kept alive, the earth continued to turn. Time went on and you adjusted, albeit shakily, to the routine of a life in the backcountry of rural Texas. You learned to help on the farm and Luda Mae, or momma as you were taught to call her, passed on her generations-old knowledge of cookery and cleaning and caring for the household. Sometimes you'd get driven out with momma and one of the uncles to tend the store, but that was on the rare side since they didn't trust the locals not to mess with you. Pretty things like you didn't come by often and you had values to uphold, now.
Plus, you had a man at home. Tommy was the reason you survived that awful first night, but now it was expected that he was also the reason you kept on living.
The rest of the family kept out of your business together for the most part, but you'd long been perplexed by the dynamic that had ensued since you'd first arrived. For as hulking and strong of a beast he was, you came to find out that Tommy's appearance was a shell that sheltered a soft-natured, sensitive boy at heart. His penchant for murder was not so, rather it was a duty carried out regardless of will in the service of a family he was lucky to have, despite you certainly thinking otherwise. He liked to work, and eat, and make things. His rage could certainly be a problem, but it was a rare thing that only cropped up once in a great while. He would endure more than ten times a normal person before he finally snapped, and even then he wouldn't ever let you see it. The few times he got mad, he would stomp out to the barn or head to the now-abandoned slaughterhouse, and take out his aggression on the thing he knew best. Meat. And most of the time it was a beating from Hoyt or a few too many bouts of yelling before he felt the need to get away.
After all, it wasn't anger that led his interactions with you. It was odd; he'd pointed you out specifically as the one he wanted to keep, but he seldom showed any entitlement in taking whatever it was he wanted from you. He'd lean in for kisses but most of the time he missed anyways. You weren't exactly sure what you could call your one occasion of intimacy with him that you recalled, because he didn't ask if you wanted it, but you didn't really tell him outright that you didn't. Would it have even mattered? Maybe not. But he barely managed to find the hole he was looking for anyways, and by the time he did it was obvious he had no clue what he was doing. Fumbling hands and a bit of awkward thigh-humping later and he'd finally left you be, albeit soaked and sticky with sweat and the residue he'd clumsily left behind on your bare stomach. Since then, it'd been just a few fingers on your thighs and some tame through-the-mask kisses, nothing more.
Not that you should really be questioning the love of a serial chainsaw butcher, but as the days passed it grew harder to see him in that light alone. You witnessed too much of the deformed, mentally-disturbed man who refused to eat before you did, who wouldn't lay a hand on you like he'd had laid on him all his life. Thomas showed affection in odd ways but they were more endearing than you thought they would be, from picking you flowers off the side of the road to cleaning up the small room you shared so you'd feel more at home. Sometimes his arousal would grow against your back while you laid in his arms, but a bit of shuddered hip-rocking through your pajamas while he thought you were asleep and the moment would pass. He was pretty easy to please.
There came a time when new visitors drove through town, however, and you knew what was going to happen as soon as Hoyt came home and called for Tommy to come upstairs. You stood at the sink washing dishes while you peered through the window; out in front of the same cornfield you'd crawled out of nearly two months ago, a van sat parked next to Hoyt's stolen Dodge. You watched with your breath held tight in your throat as five people hopped out the sliding door one by one, all seemingly chipper for where they were. Three girls, two guys. Their sunbleached hair and fancy beach clothes said all you needed to know about what type of people they were. One of the girls had a pendant hanging round her neck that caught the light just right, and you found yourself staring at it as it jostled against her sweat-soaked collarbone.
Chnk, thuuunk. At the sound of the basement door sliding open you turned your head, and there stood Tommy in the kitchen. Quiet as ever he came walking up and placed his thick hand on your head. The look in his burning eyes said it all. âEverything's okay. Don't fret.â He touched your hair a moment until Hoyt's voice rang out again, and with a silent huff he stepped away and made his way out to the lawn.
The light in each and every one of their eyes left the moment they spotted him approaching. One of the girls even grabbed her friendâs arm, stepping behind him halfway out of fear of the hulking giant that couldn't sleep without cuddling you at night. A dish slipped from your hand into the sink and splashed you, but as you pulled a rag from your apron pocket to dry the counter a bang and a high-pitched scream cut through the peaceful din of your quiet afternoon. You hopped up to see what was happening, but struggled to piece together the aftermath of the last five seconds.
On the ground lay one of the girls with a cavernous opening in the back of her head, collapsed in a steadily-growing pool of her own blood. Her lifeless eyes stared through you from across the lawn, they pierced into your very soul as she choked listlessly on her own blood, and you dropped to your knees behind the counter. Hands clamped over your mouth, you heaved each breath and hoped not to puke all over the freshly-mopped floor. Momma would have a fit if you ruined your own hard work.
Blind to whatever senselessness resided in their screams, you held back the churning of your stomach on your own bruised knees while the two of them took care of the rest. Within a few minutes you'd managed to pull yourself back up on shaky feet and finish washing the dishes. Within the hour, Tommy and Uncle Hoyt had gathered up the remaining survivors and taken them in. Two in the barn, one in the guest bedroomâŚand one locked up in the basement.
âMomma?â You called out softly into the hallway, wiping your fingers on your apron. Your chores for the day were finished, and the sun was starting to set on the horizon. Now would usually be the time you headed out to the chicken coop to lock it up, but with new visitors around, you didn't know the protocol. The last time this happened wasâŚwell, you didn't like to think about it.
âDown here, darlinâ.â Luda Mae popped her head out from the living room, and you hurried down the hall with your skirt fluttering around your legs. All your dresses were pretty modest and most of them were out of a trunk stored up in the attic, since momma had a whole collection of clothes she'd worn in her younger days that she figured would suit a young lady just fine. When you stepped in, you weren't expecting to see what you saw lying on the couch near uncle Monty's favourite spot.
It was one of the guys from the hippie van. His long hair had been soaked with blood and he was gagged, his face sporting bruises from an undoubtedly rough encounter with uncle Hoyt, who stood on the opposite side of the living room glaring at him.
âFucker tried to escape.â He sniffed, nursing a bloody nose with a hanky as he spoke with momma. âOther one's putzinâ around somewhere. You two keep an eye out, you hear me?â He pointed in your direction and you nodded out of instinct. Your eyes flicked towards the bound man on the couch as he made muffled noises of panic, but he was soon silenced by Hoyt whacking him over the head with the butt of his shotgun before he left to continue the search. Meanwhile, uncle Monty sat in his wheelchair unbothered, listening to the radio as it played on the windowsill and reading without a care in the world.
âMomma-â You tried again, but she turned to you with gentle eyes and gripped your shoulders lightly.
âGo clean up the kitchen for me, sweetheart?â She asked in earnest, and the plea you had to beg her not to make you take part died on your lips.
âYes, momma.â
âThat's my good girl.â Your hands fell at your sides, while she petted your hair lovingly and turned you away from the scene, patting you on the back as she ushered you back towards the kitchen. Blowing your hair out of your eyes, you resigned yourself to at least being a bystander to the horrors that were about to come, and made your way down the hall with your arms crossed over your chest in contemplation. Was there nothing you could do? No way to get out of playing a part, or at least ensuring they wouldn't ask? You had no doubts that you didn't have the stomach to do anything to the visitors, but then again, momma didn't have to do much either. Maybe you'd be saved by the tradition that dictated the six generations-deep household, and be regulated to the homely chores you'd tended to since first becoming a part of the family.
As you pushed through the door that led into the kitchen, the sounds of pots and pans clattering already grabbed your attention. It would be too late to do anything, howeverâbecause before you could even take a breath, someone's chest hit your back and there was a knife pinned to your throat.
âDon't you fucking move!â An unfamiliar voice whispered harshly in your ear. Your fingers scrabbled for purchase on the hand he had at your neck, but he jolted and the blade sunk deeper into your skin, causing you to cry outâand immediately be hushed by the stranger now holding you hostage. The bruising grip he had on your wrist now moved to clamp over your mouth, his body moving with you as you struggled in a momentary panic. Despite his warning, you brought your elbow backwards and loosened his grip on the knife as he choked in pain, throwing his arms off you as you stumbled forward and tripped over one of the dining chairs. Your skirt ripped as he tried to grab ahold of you again, but in his scramble to pick his weapon back up you kicked it away; and that was when fear truly started to pulse through your limbs like a heartbeat, when he glared daggers into you with a murderous rage, and you cried out the one name through tears that came to mind.
âTommy!â You sobbed, crawling away and trying to use the table to hoist yourself up, only to be kicked down again with a harsh shoe planted in the middle of your spine. Coughs ripped through your lungs as they seized in desperation, the wind having been knocked clean from your chest, and the sticky wetness of blood started pooling under your chin from hitting the floor face-first. Your nose wept with scarlet-red blood into your trembling palm, but that realization couldn't come close to the terror you felt at being grabbed by your hair and painfully lifted up off the ground.
âYou fucking bitch!â He screamed, voice hoarse and frighteningly loud so close to your face. âI'll kill youâI'll kill all you psycho motherfuckers!â He brought the knife so close to your heart you felt it cutting through the airâbut before he could bring it anywhere near your skin, a muffled thump from close by yanked him right to attention. He turned his head frantically towards the source, and you took the opportunity afforded to you. You brought your foot up hard into his groin, and released his grip on you for the second time for you to drop to the floor in a heap. Your dress smeared the blood you'd left on the pristine, freshly-mopped floorboards as you shuffled away from him, fearing the worst of retaliation from the panicked, indignant captive.
That is, until the thumping grew so loud you heard it clearly coming up the stairs, and without so much as a hint of ceremony your savior burst through the kitchen door; his eyes wild, his fists clenched with indomitable rage. His gaze swept over the scene to you, so small compared to him, huddled in the corner between the cabinets with a blood and tear-stained face. What could only be described as a growl erupted from his broad chest, and he grabbed the legs of your hunched-over assailant and dragged him closer between his feet.
âNo!â He cried, but it was far past too late. Tommy grabbed him by the back of his head, yanked him upwards to the height of his shins, and slammed the guy's head so hard into the floor that you could hear the sickening crack of his skull. Dazed but still semi-conscious, he fumbled for the knife he dropped or for anything that could save him, but it wouldn't be enough even so. With his nose ten times as smashed up as he'd done to you and his eye sockets bruised, Tommy's grip trembled on his head like he was considering whether or not to end him right here, right now. Evidently he figured that would be too easy, and before your very eyes he hauled the man up and carried him screaming down into the basement, where you heard the thwacks of him being cuffed down to the workbench before footsteps came echoing back upstairs. He found you in the same spot, still shaking like a leaf, and pushed the table aside to waste as little time as possible getting to you.
âTommy..â You winced, touching your own face for your fingers to come back bloody. He knelt down like a mountain sinking into the sea and felt around your neck, his concerns for the shallow slash you'd gotten in the struggle that you hadn't even noticed was bleeding. He grunted in reply; one hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, while two meaty fingers lightly pinched the sore bridge of your nose. Knowing what he was about to do wouldn't make it hurt any less, but you still gave him the go-ahead to do it anywaysâhe forced the bone back with a gut-churning twist, and you squealed out in pain, but it was momentary and the ache that followed was a dull one, thank god.
But still, you sat with a face full of blood and bruises and cried, half out of pain and half out of pure misery. This wasn't the life you wanted to lead, and you hated that you had no choice in the matter. You wanted to go but you knew it would mean the end, and you hated that whenever you thought of all the things you despised about this life, your mind would always wander to Tommy and you'd feel guilt over hurting him or leaving him behind. You hated it all, but somehow you couldn't really hate him, and it left you trapped in this cycle that you loathed to think would never, ever end.
While the tears continued to streak down your face, Tommy took to patting your cheeks gently. He held them and squeezed them carefully, so tender and cautious when it was you that was the meat between his destructive hands. He moved in close, his breathing hot and stifled beneath the mask he never took off in front of you. His head tilted, tongue wetting his lips in anticipation, and he-
âBoy!â Uncle Hoyt roared as he burst through the kitchen door, alerting you both and tearing Tommy's reverent gaze away from you. He stood fast and took you with him, your elbows cupped in his rough hands as he hauled you singlehandedly to your feet. âYou find that fucker yet?!â He swung his shotgun around and you flinched at the way he aimed it so carelessly. The âboyâ in question tucked you under his arm out of habit and shielded you almost entirely with the sheer enormity of his titan-esque frame. Wordlessly, he gestured towards the direction of the basement door with your trembling self still pinned tightly to his chest. The pseudo-sherriff narrowed his eyes at the both of you, namely the blood caking your otherwise pretty face, and scoffed. âHose her down, Jesus almighty..â He muttered that last blasphemy under his breath as he moved past out the back door, leaving the two of you wide-eyed and uncertain; his arm squeezing you tight against him, and your calloused fingers digging into his dirty sleeve as the crickets chirped outside the screen door.
âYou..â You swallowed dryly. The words came to you when no others did the same justice. âYou're a good boy, Tommy. You did a good job.â
Your praise hit his ears just right, as it always did. Tommy nuzzled his face into yours just so gently, barely grazing your skin with the damp leather as he tended to your wounds. With your broken nose already re-set, he rummaged through the drawers around you without taking his hand off your arm, sparing little time before his hand clasped around a roll of familiar gauze and he nudged the drawer closed. Though it was shallow enough to have stopped bleeding already, he wrapped some around your neck for the cut that would surely leave a scar, and used a clean rag to mop up your face with a bit of water from the tap. As he moved down your body to your waist, clearly concerned by the generous bloodstain marring your pretty, cotton dress, something caught his eye that froze him in place and sent a throbbing anger right into his dense fists. Worried, you set your hand on his shoulder, but it would do no good at comforting him after what he saw.
Your skirt. Torn like it had been yanked apart, desperately, and it had. Was he worried you'd be upset over the damage? You wondered for a passing moment, but as his fists shook with rage and your dressesâ hem balled within them you knew it to be a different reason entirely. He thoughtâ
Oh. So that's what he thought. You sought to comfort his fears but he'd had enough. Your delicate hands tugging at his mammoth arms made barely a dent in his intense march towards the basement, your begging too saccharine to even reach his ears. He walked with purpose into the hallway, wrenched open the sliding door with a force that bent it slightly, and with a palm outstretched to ward you off from following, he slammed it shut with an enormous bang that rattled the whole house. Standing there in shock and horror, you listened to his footsteps pounding the stairs before turning away and heading back towards the kitchen.
You had quite the mess to clean up in there, and there was nothing better to distract yourself from the howling screams of agony that would persist until dinnertime.
Maybe this was exactly how awkward it was when you'd been sat in that familiar chair. You remembered little of your first meal, the very first breakfast of many you would share with the family that had adopted you in to their home.
This was a lot lessâŚfriendly, though. Out of the five people who had arrived, two of them were dead. The one that had attacked you in the kitchen had grown silent in the basement. The other twoâthe hippy with the long hair and a redheaded girlâhad their wrists bound to two chairs diagonal from each other. The guy sat at the very end where you'd once been, and the girl to his right with tears streaming down her cheeks, sobbing softly as you filled everyone's bowls. Luckily for you, Monday was chicken soup night, so you had no worries over what kind of meat Hoyt would want to prepare for the special occasion. You'd been the only one to stir the pot, and the only one who made it at all for every Monday that rolled around. It had quickly become Tommyâs favourite, hence why he was only a few minutes late to arrive outside the dining room for dinner. Though you could tell that he'd barely cleaned up, his apron and his pants still soaked liberally with clotted blood.
âHands?â You questioned, your ladle poised over the pot of hot soup, and waited until the hulking giant tentatively stepped in the doorway to hold out his massive hands for inspection. When it was your turn to cook, you learned that you held the authority over the table for that evening. So you rarely followed the lead of uncle Hoyt or the others, and wouldn't wait until after grace to invite Tommy into the room. You checked over his knucklesâbruised, but scrubbed cleanâand only then did you nod towards the seat you saved for him and waited until he settled uncertainly into the chair to pour him a bowl and set it down in front of him.
If not for the whimpering captives at the table, it would be a better-than-average night. You'd improved on your recipe with a bit of creative seasoning, and the night had cooled off considerably to offer a bit of respite from the oppressive heat. You led grace, and smoothing out your fresh dress to fan out under your thighs as you sat, the table commenced with clinking spoons and bread being buttered that you thanked the stars hadn't gotten stale yet. Though of course, the unexpected visitors weren't so keen on your homemade cooking and didn't so much as look down at their bowls.
Tommy was too distracted to be frustrated by it, though. With his head dipped down to the table like a mutt, he slurped up his soup through the mask and chewed noisily on bits of chicken and corn. You'd saved the biggest roll for him and he tore into it like it was nothing, ripping chunks of bread off with his teeth and enthusiastically gulping down broth to wash it down. You hadn't even had time to butter his bread for him first like you usually did, but it pleased you to see him enjoying your cooking even more than usual.
âPlease,â A wobbly voice pricked at the tense silence. The redheaded girl pulled at her restraints again, shaking the table in the process. âWe didn't do anythingâŚplease, please, let us go!â She sobbed, wailing even louder as she thrashed against the stiff arms of the old chair.
âC'mon, man! We won't tell anyone, swear!â The hippie chimed in, only for Hoyt to slam his fist down on the table to silence the whining of his two captives.
âShut the hell up!â He snarled, whipping out a revolver from his holster to point at each one of them. âHad enough of your shit today. Shut your mouths.â He motioned towards his still-bloodied nose, and endured yet another scolding from momma for cussing at the table as he tucked the gun back into its place. You peered over at the two of them, but regret came immediately when the hippie's green eyes locked on yours like he saw a glimmer of hope within them. You forced your gaze back down to your bowl. You couldn't be their saviour, no matter how much they wanted you to be.
âLovely soup, sweetheart.â Momma smiled over at you, while uncle Monty nodded quietly in agreement.
âMm-hm. Momma taught you all her secrets, eh?â Hoyt added with a slurp off his spoon, the irritation from earlier having vanished. You thanked them politely, keeping your pride to yourself at the coveted praise directed your way. In a household where anything could go wrong at any time, you had to hold the good things as tight to your chest as you possibly could.
From beside you, Tommy lifted his head from an empty bowl and sighed softly with satisfaction. The remnants of spilled soup dribbled down his mask and his grimy neck, so with your own cloth napkin you reached over and did the job that was normally momma's; you wiped his face clean with a gentle hand, and he sat still for one of the only people he didn't flinch away from when you touched him.
âGood, Tommy?â He wasn't used to being asked his opinion, much less on something as scarce as food, when you didn't have much choice on what you ate. He nodded slowly, looking at you like you held the world as you finished wiping up the mess he'd left on the table.
Just then, one of the captivesâmaybe both of themâkicked their legs out in frustration, and shifted the table with a jolt that sent hot soup splashing out of the pot. The redhead's bowl tipped over and dumped her untouched meal all over her lap, but the porcelain shattering as it hit the floor wasn't what had Tommy rising out of his seat.
Wasteful. That's what they were. Insulting your cooking. You saw it in Tommy's eyes as anger overwhelmed him again, and for the second time tonight your reassurances weren't enough to halt him in his tracks. His chair legs scraped the floor loudly as he got up and maneuvered around the table, the tense quiet peppered by the screams of the girl as he grabbed the back of her head and slammed it down into the slick tabletop. Not nearly as hard as he'd done to the other guy, but enough so that he brought her back up with a nose gushing blood and a harsher sob on her lips.
âYou teach her a lesson, Tommy!â Hoyt eagerly encouraged the violence, but you reached your hand out over the table and pressed your palm flat against her forehead. At the resistance you gave her, Tommy's grip grew slack and a look of panic came over him at the distress etched clear on your face. He looked conflicted, peering over at Hoyt and then back at you. Was he being bad, or being good? Was what he was doing right, or was it wrong? Hoyt started shouting and cussing at you for stopping him, but Tommy skirted back around the table to your side and put himself between you and his furious uncle. A swat to the back of the head wasn't totally uncommon for you, even if it didn't happen often, but the punishments Tommy received were always far worse. The belt or a two-by-four were considered light work in Hoyt's sadistic mind, but after what you'd been through today you were certain Tommy wouldn't be keen on letting you endure any more pain. He would take punishments and beatings for you whenever he had the chanceâsometimes Hoyt had even asked him what he preferred, and not once had he put you up for the chopping block if he could take it for you.
âEnough of this shit!â Hoyt finally roared. He jabbed his thumb in the direction of the basement and shoved both you and Tommy towards it. âTake these sons aâ bitches downstairs, and don't come up until they're meat!â
Both of the captives shrieked and flailed in their chairs at his demand, but you managed to undo their binds despite the struggling and let Tommy haul each one up in his arms; one over his shoulder, and one tucked up under his armpit. Your heartbeat thudded in your throat as you followed Tommy's lead towards the stairs, and when it came time to shut the door, you had to swallow your fear with a gulp as the metal scraped on metal and a heavy thunk pitched you into darkness.
The only times you'd watched Tommy work before was when he'd taken you to the slaughterhouse. It was an aging, now-abandoned building that had seen generations of hard workers come and go, and despite it no longer being in business he still came by to do some work when he wasn't needed for chores at the house. You weren't sure why he didn't usually take you along or why he decided to on those few occasions, but regardless of the stench, the blood, and the intensity of chopping and cleaning meat, it was easy to tell that Tommy was good at it. Real good.
It was a little different today. About a week had passed since the visitors came through town, and by now all five of them were taken care of. You'd barely eaten since you couldn't stomach the fresh meat, and with you excusing yourself to throw up that first dinner after you'd had guests, the rest of the family had been looking down on you. Momma was sad for you, and Monty was mostly indifferent when he wasn't straight up disappointed in you. But Hoyt was vindictive and angry. He thought you were turning your back on the family, judging them, acting âall high and mightyâ and worst of all, risking your family's safety. You'd gotten caught leaving the locks loose on the two survivors' shackles, and they'd nearly escaped out the basement before Hoyt caught both of them in the cornfield and finally shot them dead.
You swore it was an accident. Hoyt thought otherwise. He would've killed you right then and there if Tommy hadn't stepped in for you, and even then the air had been strained in the house ever since, as uncle Hoyt demanded you be properly punished for your sins.
That's why you'd been dragged along with Tommy to accompany him to the slaughterhouse. By the end of the day, Hoyt wanted a proper apologyâone in the form of a bloody limb, an organ, or maybe just your head on a platter as recompense for betraying your family. And worst of all, he wanted Tommy to be the one to do it, to decide what would be a fitting price for you to pay. To âgrow some balls and be a manâ, as Hoyt put it so delicately.
But since morning, he'd just been chopping meat. Tommy hadn't even looked at you the whole time you'd been here, not even on the walk down the side of the road to get here in the first place. He'd picked you up under your arms and sat you up on the table behind him, and then he'd turned his back to you as he brought down his cleaver on the piles and piles of dripping meat. Sometimes he would turn around and hand you chunks to wrap up in butcher's paper, but for the most part he indicated nothing towards the task he had primarily been sent here to do. Somehow it just made it all worse; you felt on the edge of snapping from the anxious terror that tightened up all your muscles, wondering what on earth Tommy would do to you before the day was done. Was he just procrastinating? Because if he arrived back home with nothing to show for it, it wouldn't save you in the endâit would just make it worse for both of you when he got punished too.
âTommy.â You gnawed on your bottom lip. He brought the blade down on the chopping block with a thunk. With the bone separated, a squelch hit your ears as he slid the sections apart and dragged over another hunk to slice through. âI'm sorry.â
Thunk. Not even a passing glance over his shoulder. And it was hard to tell if he was mad when he wouldn't even look at you.
âI didn't want to get you in troubleâŚâ
Thunk.
âI was just scared.â
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
âTommy-â
The slow escalation of his measured cuts finally culminated into an uproarious clatter, his cleaver smacking down on the soaked table before he turned himself to face you. Blood marred the clothes you'd taken off the laundry line for him that morning, apron slick and sticky with viscera as it almost always was. Sweat poured down his arms and his hairy chest and beaded at his dense forehead. Every inch of him was dirty, and yet you didn't cringe away from it when he closed the distance between you and came up harrowingly close. The stench of blood and meat wafted off of him from barely an inch away. His hips edged in between your knees as you sat on the lip of the counter, keeping personal space far from his mind when he grabbed your arms and dwarfed them under his massive fingers. Each breath heaved beneath his mask like swallowing a bubble, ready to pop.
This time, Hoyt was nowhere around to interrupt him. Momma wasn't there to scold him. Nobody would hear for miles what he would do to you, and you had no idea what he'd had brewing in his mind since he'd choked you out in the cornfield that first meeting. That intense stare of his was like a bear honing in on a rabbit, and if you had the thought to run, it was already too late.
Thick fingers clamped down around your neck, dug into the scar that had formed from the asshole that had sliced you, and you felt your heart stutter as Tommy pulled you along the length of the table and slammed you down into it by the throat. This way you were laid out like a cow would to be butchered, plenty of room for him to work as he held you down and reached over to pull a leather strap over your midsection. He affixed the buckle tight to the opposite side and tightened it more when you squirmed against the pressure, but not quite enough to be as painful as the ropes that dug into your wrists at your first family meal. With that in place he didn't need to hold you down to keep you pinned against the table, and although you whimpered in fear and fought against the bindings he paid your resistance little mind, instead looking through his tools on the cutting table to find a decently-sized paring knifeâdrenched liberally in bloodâfor him to hook under the neckline of your dress and make a cut down the middle. Once he hit the tough leather over your stomach, the tool skittered across the table as he abandoned it in favour of ripping your skirt apart with his bare hands, the thin layer of cotton offering no resistance to his brute strength.
Why did it make you so wet? You couldn't shake the feeling of arousal from how animalistic he was behaving, nor the sheer, overwhelming musk of man and sweat and blood. Tommy was never rough with you but he was certainly making up for it now; you flinched at the firmness of his fingers digging into your skin, leaving trails of thin blood and dirt behind as he tore your cotton bra into loose pieces. His hands trembled at the sight of you exposed like this, too much skin to handle, and such soft flesh that filled out his palms when he cupped your breasts in each eager hand. A hitch of breath was enough to show him that you liked it, whether it was the attention itself or exclusively because it was him touching you. It didn't matter.
Tommy massaged each one with such eager reverence, his handwork clumsy compared to the ease with which he handled so many other forms of meat. He wasn't keen on ripping these off your body and eating them; although he did want to test how they would feel in his mouth, especially those plum, soft nubs of yours that perked when he brushed his thumbs over them. By now you weren't completely certain he wasn't going to butcher you, but you had a pretty good idea that this was his plan Bâtake out that inner aggression on you that would not make his god-fearing family proud.
A deep, weighty groan slipped out of him at the taste of sweat on your skin. Every bruise he left with his teeth would have to be covered up and powdered, but god, god it was so easy for him to undo every vestige of purity you'd put on for show. Your back arched and your worn shoes squeaked against the steel table as you wiggled, the globes of fat he held in his palms jiggling with a mesmerizing glow every time you moved. As much as you wanted to wrench yourself free in some moments, in most others you couldn't bear the breaks he took to catch his breath, leaving your chest prickling with goosebumps as a draft hit your spit-sticky skin. He squeezed and kneaded to his heart's content and took a twisted glee out of making you squirm, especially when you made those gurgly noises that were so traitorous to the pristine image you painted for momma. She'd made it clear that you weren't to go off messing with boys when they came strolling up to the store's counter, or return any of their flirtations no matter how many times they called you pretty.
Obviously she didn't think her son would be the one you had to keep from tempting, but that train had long left the station now. Thomasâ index finger tore through the thin fabric of your panties with a swipe, and there you laid bare and naked to his wandering eyes while he yanked the shreds of them down the rest of your legs. He probably didn't know what positions were which and how girls had their periods, but he knew enough to slide those thick fingers through your folds and to keep going when you moaned like a dying animal. âTommy, Tommy, Tommyâ, it was a mantra that hit his ears just right and urged him into clambering on top of the table with you with wild eyes. They drank in every inch of your sweltering body, the pulse of your heart through the hole he was jamming his fingers into, and on instinct he was guided to push down his waistband and throw off his apron as he knelt back on his haunches.
You might've thought he was nothing but hair if he wasn't so thick. Clearly he'd never shaved in his life with the erroneous bush he sported, curly hair matting down his thighs and his belly too once his shirt started riding up. But that fat, drooling knob of his swayed to hit his thigh, and you got an eyeful of pure, veiny, gut-smashing terror that you were sure would kill you if you didn't manage to relax. The further he leaned over your body, the more you felt like he was going to crush you as soon as he lined himself up with the hole he'd be stretching out like a little homemade cock sleeve. His hands slid under your knees to prop them up, but rather than sling them over his shoulders he bent them back and pinned them to your chest. An aching burn raced up your thighs but he paid no mind to your trembling; Tommy knelt over you and settled between your legs, and without warning, started sinking slowly into that hot opening he'd been dying to get deeper inside.
âH-Holdâwait, T-Tommy, hold oh-!â
Were you really so convinced he would play nice with you? Maybe you'd become complacent with the gentleness he showed you at his best, because when Tommy finally pressed in past the tip, he was gone. Forcing your knees back even further, he let out a groan and pushed himself up higher over you; all just to settle himself into your deepest pits and trap you in a violating mating press. After doing nothing but enjoying your heat, smushing his hips down against yours in a grinding motion, he soon seemed to realize he could moveâand move he did, drawing back just to crush your hips with a deep, stomach-punching stroke.
âUnh,â What most resembled a moan fell from his scarred lips, and he fumbled around the back of his head to unclasp the leather from his face. This was the first and only time he'd ever felt safe enough to take it off since you'd met, and it was when he'd finally listened to his body and acted on his need to force every inch of him inside you. To be one. Now you finally were, and his synthetic face dropped on your chest before slowly sliding off to hit the floor.
If your jaw hadn't already gone slack from his violent thrusting, it would probably fall from the realization of what hid under that mask day after day. The sallow, sunken nose, the scars, the jagged skin and self-inflicted woundsâŚwhy wasn't it as scary as you thought? You figured, in the moment, you'd just gotten too used to him in personality, or maybe because you were just too distracted at the moment, butâŚ
âTommy-!â You squeaked out. The wet smack of his balls on your ass stuck in your ears, the strings of creamy slick linking you flesh-to-flesh as he went to town on your pussy. If he truly was losing his virginity to you, then all that pent-up frustration must be the source of him absolutely ruining any semblance of tightness you might've had. âA-Are you tryinâ toâyou wanna gimme a baby? S'that it?â You slurred, slowly losing your good sense the longer he showed you your place.
Though you thought it would be to your horror, his slow nod only sparked something dark and tremulous within your loins. Something more than sweat and slick and the vile squelching of his seldom-washed dick rubbing up to your womb. It hit you then; this was your punishment. Every clap and sticky smack of flesh on flesh was a promise, an urge fulfilled to tear your meat from the bone and thrust a new purpose unto you. A homemaker. Tommy's little bride. A momma. Make his momma a grandmama like she was always praying for.
Shluck. Shluck. Shluck. Shluck. No doubt in your mind that was exactly what he was doing, and exactly why he brought you all the way out to the slaughterhouse to do it. The leather strap over your stomach kept you from wriggling away, but that would only be if you could somehow get him to pull out, and that for sure wasn't happening. He didn't bother with long strokes and leaving the tip in, your cunt was a home for him to bury himself in and he wasn't about to waste a second of this. His thick thighs trembled over yours, and he ground the swollen head of his cock deep against your cervix. So deep it was painful, but why would he care? He was doing a good thing. He was being a good boy, giving you what uncle Hoyt told him all women wanted, even if they didn't say it out loud.
Tommy's moans grew to a higher pitch once he affixed his hand like a necklace round your throat, swelling with the faster, faster, faster pace of his thrusts downward. He pressed his other meaty hand into your knees and shoved each one further apart, which made you whine but gave him easier access to pound you into greedy, delectable mush. Whereas it might've turned off weaker men, your nails digging deep, long scratches up his back made Tommy groan and tilt his head back in delirious pleasure. His knees kept you pinned at your sides and his weightâhis stomach squishing into you from aboveâheld you down where you belonged, where you'd be the most beautiful and of best use. Beneath him with a womb spilling over with cum, sown by his seed and his seed alone. His picturesque, pretty little wife. Hewitt property. He wouldn't stop, and you wouldn't beg him to even if you weren't being choked of any air you had left, and the world started to spin as the ecstasy took hold and Thomas was squeezing your moans out of you with trembling fervour. It felt as though your lower half exploded and left you with a warm, full, tingly sensation, marred by pearly-white globs of a load he'd had saved up since birth.
In contrast to the violent lovemaking he'd just shown you he was capable of, you were slowly brought back to life by small, soft little pecks. Kisses like the fuzz of a bumblebee brushing by your cheeks, pressing into your lips with a sweetness you weren't used to. This felt like Tommy again, like the gentle touch he used when nobody was around to laugh at him for being so sweet on you. He shuddered with bliss as his cock pulsed with your heartbeat and milked him of what little he had left, but with his chubby fingers rubbing at your jaw and brushing your sweaty locks aside he managed to drag himself off of you. Slowly, like molasses on a cold day, he brought himself back down off the table and let his feet hit the floor, having to brace himself against the table to keep from stumbling to the ground. Click-shuuunk. The leather belt snapped back into its holder as he released it, which left a sizeable indent across your abdomen that you'd have to hope would be covered enough not to show bruises. All you could do was watch as Tommy did up his pants on his way around the table, only to return to your side with the biggest, sharpest knife you swore you had ever seen. You flinched away and nearly cried out-
Shlip. With a strand pulled taut, Tommy made quick work of separating a lock of your hair from your head. Just a short one, so as not to make much differenceâbut he held it to his face and sniffed deeply, and it ashamed you to say that the gesture in itself just made your clit throb with need you thought you'd been completely overdosed on. Despite that, you laid still while Tommy reached over and retrieved his mask, tucking the tuft of hair inside it so he could smell it all the time. To calm him down, to cool him off, to just enjoyâŚall the things that you brought to him when no one else did, or could. From his pocket he produced something small and shiny, and dangled it over your face to show you before he set on fixing it around your neck. The pendant you'd seen that girl wearing a week ago now hung against your collar, the gleam of gold in it polished clean of the blood spilled to take it.
You barely let out a moan as he set on rearranging your limbs, turning you over, letting his cum spill down your thighs and all over the table like the blood from a fresh cut of beef. His calloused digits traced down your spine and up again til he found a sweet spot, and padded down your springy flesh that separated bone from his fingers. The carving knife had tinged when he'd sharpened it but he didn't show it to youâthat would be too much for you, given what he was about to commit to.
Every arc, long and curved or short and straight, burned. The tip of the blade dug into your flesh like a red-hot needle, but Tommy's warm palm on the back of your neck kept you from moving out of his reach. He needed to start and to finish and his hand was already unsteady, mostly from the way his breath still hitched and his cock stirred all over again at the sight of your writhing body. Your blood turned him on. He hadn't touched any of the victims before you, not in that way, but you weren't really the same as themâno, you were special. If you weren't, Tommy wouldn't be carving those words into your back, and putting on display his ownership over the one and only thing he would ever see as more than meat.
If you didn't get pregnant this time, then this would surely be enough for the family to forgive. The letters scrawled in bloody ecstasy that would heal over, scar, wounds to be reopened over and over again.
Tommy's girl
forever
#thomas hewitt#leatherface#thomas hewitt x reader#leatherface x reader#slasher x reader#spicy writing#texas chainsaw massacre#texas chainsaw massacre: the beginning#tcm 2006#slashers#ellie writes#10k
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stress-relief
husband!Simon helping his wife!reader with her stress <3 cw: nsfw. mdni. fem reader, masturbation, squirting, a lil overstim.
you shuffle through the bag to find the keys to your home, only to drop it the minute you raise it to unlock the door. great. itâs one of those days where everything goes wrong, and you want nothing more than to shut out the world and curl up in bed, silently praying for the next one to be better.Â
you pick up the keys from the doormat and swing open the door of your flat, hoping that the familiar scent flooding your lungs will help you ground yourself back to a more serene state. tossing your coat and bag aside, your gaze falls on the tall man quietly reading on the sofa, sweetly mouthing a âwelcome back, love.â that you dismiss with a grunt, stomping your way to the bedroom.
âuh-oh.â Simon thinks, siren already buzzing and red light blinking in his brain, making him pull up to his feet at god-speed and quickly follow you to your shared room, being met with your clothes scattered around and the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. he promptly puts away your discarded attire and sits on the edge of the bed, patiently waiting for you.
you stay in the shower for some good thirty minutes, allowing the water to wash away your stress as you massage your scalp. the weight finally falls from your shoulders and flows down the drain, leaving you alone with the tiredness thatâs been brewing in your tense muscles since you stepped out of the house. with a long, weary sigh, you drape the towel around your body and walk out the bathroom, tiny droplets cascading from your hair to your chest, descending on the swell of your breasts and stirring your husbandâs cock in his pants.
âgonna tell me whaâ got you so cranky, dove?â he asks with the slightest of teasing, knowing heâs staggering on the thin line of your temper.
ââm sorry, jusâ a hard day.â you mutter sheepishly, turning to get some well-deserving comfy clothes on the dresser
âcâmere,â you barely have time to react before Simon pulls you by the wrist onto the bed, positioning your body between his legs as he rests on the headboard, âtalk to me, lovie.â
his hands brush your arms delicately, fingers running up and down your skin as you start addressing the misfortunes of your day. how a jerk cut you off in traffic, how a client screamed at you on the phone after you explained it wasnât possible to fulfill his request, how your long awaited sweet treat after lunch fell straight to the floor, how your mother called just to raise hell at you for not visiting enough, how your boss scolded you for a mistake that wasnât even your fault.
âhm, she said thaâ?â he murmurs, massaging the knots on your shoulders and slowly drifting his hands downwards, opening up the lightly damp towel thatâs clinging to your frame as you ramble. his rough, calloused skin finds its way to your soft tits, gently kneading the fat while his lips plant small kisses all over your neck.
âi swear that womanâs out to get me, don't know how i havenât been fired yet.â
âshe knows thaâ place would fall apart without ya, doll. youâre the only one with a brain there,â he coos sweetly in your ear, fingers traveling down your stomach and reaching your mound, making your breath hitch in your throat. Simon smirks at your reaction, feeling your head tipping back to rest on his shoulder and your still wet hair soaking his shirt, âlet me help you decompress, eh?â
you, too tired to resist the offer, let him spread your legs with ease, compliant to the touch of your loving husband. his middle finger smears the hasty arousal leaking from your cunt through your slit, softly caressing your folds as you melt into his arms. âso wet fâme, love.â he chuckles, slightly rubbing your clit as you hum.
his moves are tame, gradually pooling the warmth in your belly, taking his time to shape your tension until itâs the right moment to set you free. his finger toys with your entrance before sliding in, feeling the familiar walls of your cunt clenching around it, causing you to breathe heavily at just the beginning.
âyou like thaâ?â he whispers, introducing another finger on your tight hole as you turn to bury your face on his neck, mewling with pleasure and pain while he stretches you, digits hitting all the right spots. by the time he speeds up the thrusting, your moans are erratic, gasped, barely leaving your throat as you grasp his forearm in a desperate attempt to ground yourself, even with your brain reaching the fucked-out point by a simple touch.
his thumb lazily strokes your swollen nub as he continues to be knuckles-deep inside of your velvety walls, curling his fingers just enough to earn a squeal out of you. the coil on your lower stomach tightens, fibers threatening to snap at any second as Simon murmurs sugary praises in your ears whilst nipping the skin where your neck meets your shoulder, the love biteâs stings only intensifying the pleasure coursing through your bloodstream.
âSimon, âm gonna-â you donât even have the energy to complete your sentence before your juices flood on his hand, the godâs nectar gushing from your pussy and dripping from his wrist onto the long forgotten towel, as he bullies your clit to overstimulation. you cry out his name like a prayer, begging whatever higher power out in the universe to let you keep that sensation forever.
âlooks like someone really needed thaâ,â he laughs and you feel the deep rumbling from his chest on your naked back, only driving you closer to the edge as your legs convulse at the overwhelming thrill of your nervous system. your frantic moans echo in the room when Simon raises his free hand to your nipple, rolling the hardened tip between his thumb and index, painting twinkling stars in the ceiling, the scintillation being too much to keep your vision clear. âthink ya got another one fâme, princess?âÂ
he doesnât wait for your answer; he knows how to treat his precious wife and can cite by heart the prescription to get you to sleep better than any pill would. tears prickle in the corner of your eyes when he starts again, just barely giving you time to recover from the near out-of-body experience.Â
his new rhythm is harsh, pulling your thighs - fully covered in slick and arousal - over his to keep you spread open, and fiercely pounding two digits inside you. you squirm and press yourself harder against his broad chest, babbling incoherently as he pumps his thick and scarred fingers somehow even deeper than before.Â
âSi, âs too much, i canât-â you choke out, streams rolling down your cheeks as he builds another orgasm out of you. half-lidded eyes meet his hazel irises in a lustful gaze, pleading in agony for another release before your body gives out.
it doesnât take much before a jolt of electricity tingle beneath your skin and makes you cum, getting you blissfully drunk by finger-fucking only while your peak ripple through your core. your hands sternly grip on the sheets under your limp body, the frenzy running its way through every corner of your being, clouding your vision and leaving you in a divine peaceful haze.
your limbs twitch slightly as you come down from your high, Simon holding you tight in his burly arms and pressing kisses on your pretty face. âyou did so good, lovie,â he praises, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your belly, âcouldâve given ya sâmuch more but your eyes are so droopy already,â his quiet laugh almost lull you to sleep right there and then, âfeeling better?â
you nod, eyes tempting to close as the fatigue washes over you, weariness creeping up your mind after a hell of a day and a celestial end to it. âthank you, Si.â you mumble with nothing but affection in your voice, utterly elated by the sight of your devoted husband cradling you.Â
âanything for ya, my wife.â
just a little something i thought of while procrastinating my other works lol
#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#ghost x reader#ghost x you#ghost smut#simon riley smut#simon ghost riley#ghost cod#ghost imagine#cod mw#cod mw2#cod smut#nyx writes âž#midnightarcheress
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do you believe me now?
in which fem!reader is insecure around spencer until she finally asks him to take matters into his own hands (literally)
series masterlist
18+ (smut) warnings/tags: inexperienced reader, fingering, softdom!spencer my sweet sweet beloved angel, sub reader, praise, you know he talks you through it, brief mention of drinking wine, i think that's it a/n: i hope u guys like this ! slightly different dynamic than my other stuff maybe but let me know what u think!! i love feedback and i love YOU!!!
âYouâre so pretty.â
Itâs the first thing Spencer has said since you two landed on his couch, exhausted from one of Rossiâs extravagant soirĂŠes. It was your first of many, if Spencerâs entire team is to be believed. More nights featuring Italian food and wine you could never afford donât sound half badâbut for now youâre drained. You barely had the energy to kick off your heels and topple into Spencerâs lap five minutes ago. The silk dress still pools over his knees and your hair still falls in curls around your face. He brushes one aside as he continues.Â
âI meanâyou always look beautiful. But Iâve never seen you all done up. Youâre obscenely gorgeous.â
You groan awkwardly, burying your face in Spencerâs collar as your face heats. Taking compliments has never been your strong suit, especially from someone who you perceive to be so out of your league. The relationship you have with Spencer is relatively new, and sometimes you worry delicate; like one slip-up revealing the real you and heâll go running. So far, though, he seems hellbent on proving you wrong.Â
His hand finds the bare skin of your arm, passing up and down gently. âWhy donât you believe me?â
ââŚI do.â
Itâs unconvincing. Spencer scoffs.Â
âNo, you donât. You never believe me when I compliment you.â
The cadence of his voice is light enough, but itâs evident that thereâs some genuine frustration there, lurking just under the surface.Â
Your head lolls over his shoulder and he angles his neck to look down at you. Hair falls over his eyes, and youâd fix it if he didnât look so damn perfect. Everything about him looks intentional, like he was designed by someone who took great pride in their work. Not at all like youâa collage of features and spare parts you guess whatever force created you had lying around. Nothing about you feels on purpose. But thatâs a hard thing to explain.
âIâm sorry. I know itâs impolite. It just feels disingenuous to accept compliments like that.â
Goosebumps arise on your arm where he touches you.
âYou being polite isnât what Iâm concerned about. I just wish I could make you understand that I mean it when I compliment you. Youâd know if I didnât. Iâm a terrible liar.â
That earns a giggle from you. Your boyfriend smiles, sparkling eyes darting over your face like heâs trying to bottle the sound, the memoryâand you realize he probably is. What a terrifying thought. You look away, abashed once more.Â
âIâm a woman, Spencer. Iâm not allowed to like myself. Thatâs the whole thing with Eve and the snake and the apple and whatever. Eternal inescapable shame.â
âAre you trying to justify your self-loathing by making it biblical? You know Iâm the last person that would work on, right? Both as an agnostic-leaning-athiest and someone who thinks youâre beautiful and wonderful.â
Another groan claws its way from your throat as you slide down in embarrassment.Â
âYouâre killing me here, Spencer.â
âWhat can I do to do to make you believe me?â he murmurs, carefully brushing tangles from your hair as you now rest practically prone across his lap. The ceiling light stretches behind him, haloing him in a soft glowing crown and making everything a bit more hazy and tolerable.Â
âItâs not your fight.â Itâs meant to be playfully dramatic, but it hangs from your lips with a painful amount of earnestness.Â
âIf itâs yours, itâs mine. Thatâs kind of the whole point of a relationship, right? Being a team?â
His fingers are nimble and warm between yours as you interlace them, steepling and bumping them together as you speak.Â
âWell, if you know so much, why are you asking me? It sounds like you know exactly what to do to make me magically love myself.â
A dangerous twitch plays at the corner of his lips as he gazes sleepily down at you.Â
âOh, I have a few ideas. But Iâm asking what youâd be comfortable with.â
âWhoa!â you blurt, giggling self-consciously, covering your face with your (and inadvertently one of his) hands. âWhere did that come from?â
He smiles at your response to his mildly suggestive comment. âI lose my filter when I'm tired. Iâm sorry if I made you uncomfortable.âÂ
You sigh gustily, dragging his hand down to fall over your collarbones. His fingers twitch over the delicate skin, like heâd graze it if your hand wasnât weighing his down.Â
âNo, no, you didnât make me uncomfortable, you just⌠surprised me. Iâm really bad at talking about this kind of thing.â
âSex?â
You yelp, slinging your arm over your face and hiding in the crook of your elbow. âAH! Donât say it!âÂ
He laughs again, a little less reserved this time.Â
âWhat? You canât even listen to me say the word?â
âNo! Too scary!â
Eventually you peek out from under your arm to find Spencer still watching you. The humor has faded from his eyes and been replaced by a kind of serene calm. He brushes a lock of hair from your shoulder.Â
âCome here,â he saysâa request more than a demand. With some wriggling and a bit of help, you manage to reorient yourself into a sitting position across his lap once more. His touch is warm even through the fabric of your dress when he kisses you, hand sliding over your waist before moving to trace your jaw and ending up on the back of your neck, urging you closer ever so slightly. You kiss him back without hesitation or restraint, as you delight in doing when he gives you the opportunity. What you may lack in experience and refinement, you make up for with affection and enthusiasm. He pulls away after a minute, much to your dismay, and brushes his thumb over your lips. For the first time, you think you see a hint of worry in his eyes. Guilt claws at your heart when he quietly asks, âyouâre not scared of me, are you?â
âNo!â You assure quickly, looping your arms around his neck. âNo, itâs not you. Youâre perfect and Iâm sure you really mean all of the nice things you say. But I just⌠sometimes I worry Iâll scare you away once you realize Iâm not as pretty or⌠good as you thought.â
âThatâs impossible.â
Once more you let your head fall onto his shoulder. âYou donât know that.âÂ
His hand begins running up and down your back, soothing your sympathetic nervous system in a way that all the deep breaths in the world never could.Â
âI know that I really, really like you. And thereâs not one part of you that I donât find genuinely beautiful. I canât imagine not feeling that way about you.â Your eyes flutter shut and you hum against himâa non-answer, but he doesnât push it. Minutes go by quietly, ticking later into the night as he continues mindlessly rubbing your back and watching you breathe. âDo you want me to take you home?â He finally asks after a long while. Again, you donât respond. He smiles. âI know youâre awake.â
The corner of your lip twitches as you attempt to suppress a grin. Spencer sighs.Â
âI guess if youâre already asleep youâll just have to stay here. But it would be convenient if youâd sleepwalk to my bed so that I donât have to carry you.â
When you begin stirring and sitting up (one eye cracked to navigate) he laughs, hands on your waist. âWould you look at that. Who knew she would be so suggestible in non-REM?â You snort as you push yourself to a standing position using Spencerâs shoulders to support yourself, and ruining the whole act. He smiles up at you like youâre something divine and lets his hands trail over your hips.Â
âI sleep with my eyes open.â
âDo you often have coherent conversations in your sleep, too?â
You shrug. âIâm full of surprises.â
âIâm sure you are,â he agrees, finally standing himself. âIâm assuming you donât want to sleep in your dress?â
âI have shorts on underneath I can wear, but a shirt would be helpful.â
âThen weâll get you a shirt.â
âââââââââââââââ
Ten minutes later youâre in Spencerâs bathroom, wearing your shorts and one of his sweatshirts (you cannot imagine Spencer in a hoodie), and wiping black sludge from your eyes with makeup remover he claims was left by a friend after a particularly festive Halloween party. Hopefully heâs telling the truthâyou can think of more dubious potential origins of the eye-makeup remover in his bathroom. No toothbrushâyou use your finger and a generous amount of toothpaste until the red wine stains fade.Â
Spencer is fixing the pillows when you exit the bathroom. You hold up your hands which are completely obscured and then some by the thick fabric of his sweatshirt.Â
âFits like a dream,â you say. A smile tugs at his lips as he finishes his task, before raising his eyes to you. The smile promptly fades and itâs like the sun disappearing behind an oppressive gray cloud. In an instant your stomach curdles and you feel like crawling out of your skin.Â
ââŚwhat?â you mumble, absolutely terrified that the thing heâd said was impossible just minutes ago has already happened. Without makeup, without a fancy dress, youâre just you, and maybe thatâs not good enough.
âUhâŚâ He blinks, as if heâs buffering for a moment, before snapping back into action, and notably looking away from you. âItâsâitâs nothing. Do you, umâhere, I tried to make itââ
âStop. Just tell me what that was. You got all weird.â
Another pauseâhe looks back up at you reluctantly with a sigh.Â
âI did not get all weird.â
âYes, you did. Youâre still being weird. Itâs freaking me out.â
Heâs utterly unreadable, which drives you fucking insane, when he eventually says, âcome here.â This time, you think with a chill as you shuffle on your knees across the bed to sit in front of him, it really sounds like a demand. Spencer grabs your face in his hands, studying you intently. âI know you think Iâve finally decided youâre hideously deformed, but itâs actually just the opposite. Iâm trying to figure out how to keep things polite for you.â
Realization dawns on you and the swarm of new butterflies in your stomach. The usual molten gold of his irises has been encroached upon, masked by blown pupils. Your face gets hot and your voice caves when you speak.Â
âOh.â
âYeah, oh,â he agrees quietly. âDo you believe me now?â
And to his credit, you really do. The hot skin, the vibrating cells in every fiber of your being, the racing heartâyour body knows he means it. Part of you, the more confident, more desirous part, drags you closer to him, ghosts your lips over his. He chuckles.Â
âNow youâre getting brave?â
âAm I not allowed to kiss you?â you whisper, draping your arms over his shoulders.Â
âYouâre allowed to do whatever you want.â
The words make you shiverâthe lowered, gravelly tone of his voice youâve never heard before snaps your resolve and you lean into him, connecting your lips with a deep urgency. Spencer inhales sharply, hands wandering to your waist and bearing down firmly as you press against him. When you lean back, he follows you, insists without saying a word that you donât stop kissing him. It sends a thrill down your spine and between your legs, which both gives you pause and eggs you on. In the end, after a very brief internal struggle, curiosity and desire win. You drop to the bed and drag him down with youâhe, your willing follower, blindly searches for purchase on the plush comforter. Now heâs on top of you, legs slotted together so that his thigh is temptingly close to your core. Too shy to actually do what you want to do, you clamp your thighs around his and tilt your hips, desperate for friction. He exhales heavily, slowly pulling his lips from yours like itâs the last thing he wants to do. Fingers dig into the flesh of your hip, not enough to ache but enough to draw your attention to your movements.Â
âWhat are you doing?â he asks, firmly, but not like youâre in troubleâitâs a probing question. Heâs trying to figure out if youâre aware of the way youâre nearly riding his leg.Â
âI donât know,â you admit breathlessly.Â
âYou just told me you couldnât even listen to me say the word sex,â Spencer reminds you. âYou said it was too scary.â
A frustrated whine seems to catch him by surprise, and he laughs.Â
âThat was a long time ago. Iâve matured since then.â
âIs that what happened?â he teases.Â
âHonestly, Iâm just really turned on right now, pleaseâ" you cut yourself off, crashing your lips into his once more. And he almost relents.Â
Almost.Â
âSlow down.â
He ceases kissing you for a second time and youâre starting to really get annoyed.Â
âWhat?â you groan. âI thought you wanted this.â
His thumbs brush over the apples of your cheeks, demanding your attention.Â
âI want you. In every sense of the word. If you make a bad choice tonight and it means you donât like me anymore tomorrow, that is the opposite of what I want. Iâm not saying no. Iâm just asking you to think about it for a second.â
You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and attempting to steady your mind and see beyond the thick fog of lust. What you find is a (mildly surprising) complete lack of fear. Youâre not scared, like you thought youâd be; you feel utterly safe underneath him, with his hands on you and his heartbeat against your chest. This is a kind of intimacy you want to have with him.Â
Your eyes open to reveal his, close enough you can see the tiny flecks of green. And so much warmth. Everything about him is warm.Â
âThis is what I want,â you assert. âI promise.â
His gaze flits between yours for a moment, pulling the truth from your soul like he might be able to find an imperfection there. But you mean itâand he seems satisfied. He trusts you, like you trust him.Â
âOkay.â
A sigh of relief never quite finds completion before heâs kissing you again. Immediately the fire is stoked once more, the heat between your legs getting warmer when he experimentally pushes his thigh against you. You breathe into the kiss, pressing down on him and surrendering to the unconscious rhythm of your hips. He lets that go on for a minute or two until youâre so distracted that you canât kiss him back.Â
Unexpectedly he pulls away, disentangling himself from your legs. You stammer in frustration until his fingers hook under the soft material of your shorts. âHips up.â
Wordlessly you comply, succumbing to his gentle words and touch. He bows to kiss you as he slides the fabric down unhurriedly. Once the shorts are gone, he sits up, and carefully lifts one of your legs over his lap, gaze unabashedly glued between them.Â
âEyes up here,â you try to joke, but itâs steeped in self-consciousness and your heart is pounding. He manages, stroking the inside of your knee with a thumb as he leans down again.Â
âBut youâre so pretty,â he murmurs, before heâs kissing you again. âJust like I knew you would be.â
You whimper when his hand skates over your stomach, lower, and lower, andâ
âTell me one more time, sweetheart.â
Your plead is just as hungry and yearning. âPlease, Spencer?â
It works for him.Â
When his knuckles brush over your clit, you forget to breathe. When they barely skim your entrance, collecting arousal to drag back upward, your brain malfunctions. It is not enough, maddeningly so, but when he finds a careful, introductory rhythm, itâs immediately bordering on too much, too good.Â
Your stomach tenses and you are surprised by your own sighs and hesitant gasps as you try to adjust to the feeling of someone elseâs hand between your legs.Â
âDoes that feel good?â he murmurs against your lips.Â
âMhm,â you chirp. Slow but insistent circles elicit a cry that gets caught in your throat, melting into a hum. Your eyes are closed, but you can hear the smile in Spencerâs voice.Â
âYouâre sensitive, huh?â
âSâsometimes.â
 He hums contemplatively.Â
âSometimes? Can you tell me about that?â
You canât hardly think around those gentle movements of his hand, let alone speak. He touches you like youâre something delicate. Itâs torturous and perfect. But you try to answer anyway, managing to keep the stammering to a minimum.Â
âAbout what?âÂ
âI want to know what you think about when you touch yourself.â The smooth words in tandem with an incremental increase in pressure earn your first real moan. Timid and unpracticed, but very genuine.Â
The answer comes immediately afterward; thoughtlessly and on a shuddering exhalation.
âYou.â
âYeah?â he smiles. âGood answer.â
Your eyes open fractionally to study his expression. Youâd felt so much shame every time youâd imagined him in your bed late at night.
âReally?âÂ
âReally. And now look at you. Letting me do it for you.â As if to remind you, he speeds up the motion of his hand. On instinct you bring your fingers to your lips as you moan through a closed throat, partly to stifle the noise and partly because you donât know what to do with the hand thatâs not gripping the duvet. âDo you only touch here?â His fingers slide down to your slick entrance and your hips buck, mourning the loss of stimulation. âOr do you touch here, too?âÂ
You shake your head, breathing hard as he teases a finger around the soft place youâve never really bothered to explore. âNever feels good when I try.â
âWeâre gonna make it feel good, okay?â
You nod hesitantly, leaning back into the pillows when he kisses you again.Â
His lips are so distracting, so intoxicating you almost forget what heâs doing until he does it. Itâs a foreign sensationânot entirely pleasant or unpleasant. For a moment or two your brows furrow as you focus on the feeling, worried that maybe youâre broken just as you thoughtâuntil you feel a slight stretch and you realize heâs pushing a second finger into you now. A kiss lands on your cheek when you grab his arm with a choked gasp, and he mutters, âdeep breaths,â into your ear. âI know itâs new, honey, just breathe.â
âFuck,â you whimper as you look down, and you didnât realize you were going to say it until itâs already passed between your lips. Pressure begins melding with the promise of pleasure, and something about watching his hand move between your legsâthe tendons flexing and wrist bending as he eases into what is clearly a perfected motionâarouses you so much you moan at the sight alone. Flipping pages is all you thought that hand was meant for. Itâs like a secret revealed as you watch it do something so salacious, and to you.Â
A hot spark of pleasure flares deeper in you than youâve ever felt. It catches and grows faster than youâd of thoughtâsuddenly you can feel everything and it all feels better than you thought possible. Your jaw drops and a surprised huff of air blows a strand of your hair away.Â
âOh my god,â comes your breathy little whisper, unprepared for and intimidated by how good heâs making you feel. Filthy noises come from between your legs and you clench around his fingers. You had no idea you could make those noises. You had no idea you could get so wet.Â
âYeah, there we go.â His voice sounds a little further away now. You manage to tear your eyes away from all the action to his face. Much like you, heâs transfixed by the sight, brow furrowed and pretty lips parted in what could be concentration, or some sort of empathetic pleasure. His face has more color to it than usual and his breaths come heavierâitâs a very pleasant sight. Suddenly his fingers brush against a spot deep within you and your hips cant upward, a mewl pulled from the depths of your throat that has more control over you than you do it. Spencerâs eyes flash back to you, a grin playing at his lips. He does it again, looking right into your eyes, and you whine so pitifully your face flushes.Â
âToo much?â he asks. You shake your head firmly, arching your back when he unconsciously slows down. At your response his fingers begin rutting into you again, committing to that spot inside you that makes you see stars. âOf course not. Youâre gonna take whatever I give you, huh?â
âUh-huh,â you nod. Youâd do just about anything for him right at this second. Spencer holds an immense amount of power over you in this moment, and potentially in all future moments moving forward. But you trust him with it.Â
âYou donât have anything to prove to me. I just want you to feel good. Youâll tell me if itâs too much, right?â
But itâs really not too much. Itâs exactly right. Your verbal capacity is acutely limited right now, so you canât exactly say it, but you lock eyes with him and whine shamelessly, hips twisting against his hand. You think he gets the message.Â
Hair falls over his face and he doesnât fix it, opting instead to alternate his gaze between your cunt and face, cursing to himself lowly. You wouldnât want him to stop and fix his hairâwhat you want is this, for him to keep pushing you toward that elusive edge and to keep looking at you like you put all the stars in the sky.Â
âLook at you, my pretty girl. Iâm so proud of you. I know this isnât easy. I know you were scared. Thank you for letting me do this, honey.â
Itâs the unexpected tenderness of the words, perfectly misplaced in the context of the moment. Itâs the devotion, the honesty in his eyes, shining through the haze of lust, which makes your stomach drop and all your muscles tense. A million thoughts jumble in your head, dizzying and thrilling and confusing, but mostly all you can think is Spencer, Spencer, Spencer. Is this how it always is? Your hands tangle in the sheetsâand then all the thoughts vanish. Everything is warm and fuzzy and sparkling clean, no worries, no lingering thoughts, no self-awareness at all. Itâs nirvana. Itâs revelatory. Itâs ridiculous that he did this all in under five minutes and you havenât been able to do it once even with very concerted effort.Â
Slowly you float back into your body, breathing hard and watching through half-lidded eyes as Spencer gently pulls his hand away. Without him you feel weirdly empty and cold, like he should have been there all along. But his touch isnât absent for longâhe runs his hand over the bridge between your hips, little finger dipping into the crease of your thigh.Â
âThatâs never⌠Iâve never done that before,â you admit, slurring your words only slightly.Â
His perfect features contort into a half-frown, half-smile.Â
âYouâve never had an orgasm?â You nod. His head tilts. âReally? You didnât tell me that.â
âWhen would I have told you?â you laugh, finding his waist with your hand and encouraging him to settle his weight on you. He does, burying his face in your neck and exhaling heavily.Â
âWell?â you ask shyly, skating your fingers over his back. âDid I do it right?â
Spencer snorts, but presses a sickeningly sweet kiss to the curve of your neck.Â
âDid you like it?â
âYes,â you admit, voice smaller than youâd have liked. He pushes himself up onto his forearms and kisses you softly.Â
âThen we both did it right.â
âButâŚâ you stare up into his warm honey eyes, searching for any bits of hidden truth you can find. He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, utterly unconcerned. âYou know what I mean.âÂ
âI do,â he agrees, âand Iâll say this because I know otherwise youâre going to worry about it forever.â He studies your face reverently for a moment, before parting his lips to speak. The words are slow to come, like heâs trying to figure the sentence out as he goes along. âYou⌠are going to be, problematic, for me.â
Your whisper is almost as small as you feel under his heavy gaze. âWhat dâyou mean?âÂ
âI mean,â Spencer begins, voice low, âI think I liked that too much. Do you see why thatâs troubling?â
The flame you thought had been quenched flickers back to life like a pilot light. Your thighs press together to alleviate a growing ache in a still sensitive area and you answer, âno,â with a small shake of your head. His thumb tenderly traces your jaw, ever-patient despite the fact that youâre obviously playing coy.Â
âBecause I canât have you all the time.â
âYes you can,â you say without hesitation, though your eyes are fluttering. âYou can have me whenever you want. Right now.â
He hums, pressing a kiss to your cheek.Â
âNot tonight. Youâve had enough. Youâre tired.â
âIâm wide awake,â you slur, tangling a hand in his hair even as you lose the battle against your eyelids.Â
He sighs good-naturedly, gently wrapping his fingers around your wrist and brushing his lips over the delicate skin.Â
âYouâre shockingly precocious.â
You hum.Â
âYou just unleashed the beast. Youâre like Doctor Frankenstein.â
He chuckles, sitting up and finding your shorts. You manage to be semi-helpful, lifting your legs at appropriate junctures as he tugs your clothing back on. âAnd youâre a nerd.â
âI donât need to take that from you of all people.â
âIâll pretend I didnât hear that,â Spencer says, and the smile in his voice makes you smile, a quarter asleep as he leans over to turn off the lamp on your side of the bed before tugging the covers over both of you.Â
He pulls you close in the dark, releasing a deep sigh as you curl into him. His heartbeat is steady against your ear, his arms warm around you. You can imagine making a home for yourself here. And you donât know if heâs thinking it, but you hope he is, as you are silently repeating to yourself with every beat of his heart;
I love you
I love you
I love you.Â
-
part two
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid smut#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid fic#criminal minds#criminal minds smut#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine
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ŕźâ§âËđŻď¸âŕźâ§âË. "the craving"ŕźâ§âËđ¤âŕźâ§âË. PART 1
Read Part 2 here đ¤
pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!Reader
words: 6300
summary: after a long day of scouting together, your betrothed Jacaerys and you are forced to seek shelter at an inn when a storm is raging outside. The only "problem"; there is only one, tiny bed for the two of you.
warnings: sexual tension, they're both virgins, but the Targaryen ancestors wrote a kamasutra for future generations and Jace has read it ;) , only one bed trope, cuddling/spooning, sexual content (making out, vaginal fingering, a little bit of dirty talk from Jace), aftercare
a/n: I had a lot of fun writing this story and it's my longest one for Jace so far, hope you like it! <3Â I also have some ideas for a potential part 2 đ....
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It was a rare occurrence for you, being chosen by the Queen to scout for the day, patrolling the sky and the lands underneath it from a safe distance.Â
You were a princess of Dragonstone, but you were also a dragonrider, even if you were still young and an honor like this filled you with undeniable pride.
It was an even rarer occurrence that she allowed Jacaerys to join you.
Your recent betrothal to the prince had been a blessing, making your strong bond of friendship weave itself only tighter, but it also had brought up feelings you'd thought you simply could've brushed aside before.
Jace had gotten more...protective of you, more tender and you could not help but feel yourself being drawn to him too, longing for the mornings spent together at breakfast after saying goodnight to each other on your doorstep the night before.
Of course, there were rules, things to do when courting and things to avoid, such as sharing a room before marriage and the things that could happen in said roomâŚ
But you were never the one to follow rules lightly and weren't you going to be married anyways? All you needed was a little push until you'd surrender your heart and your body to Jacaerys...
And somehow, you had a feeling you weren't alone with these forbidden desires.
Today had been mostly spent in the sky, flying together as if you had never done something else. You were a unit, always knowing where the other was and what they did and it seemed like your dragons were delighted as well by the recent development of your planned union.Â
You couldn't help but laugh with the wind when they playfully snapped at each other, both making little besotted growls from time to time, like Jace and you were interrupting a date.
Everything would've been alright if the storm hadn't moved into your direction.
It was getting darker and darker and both of you couldn't make your dragons move any faster, since they were young just as you and Jace were. Situations like this couldn't exactly be trained beforehand.
When the rain hit you, your mood dropped instantly.
"It's getting late!" You heard Jacaerys' familiar voice calling over to you through the wind and rain. "The weather isn't going to get any better and we are too far away from Dragonstone to make it back before midnight. We have to find a place to spend the night, it's no use."
You knew he could see the frustration on your face, worrying what your people back in the safety of Dragonstone's walls would think if the future of a more hopeful realm did not return as punctually as expected.
"She's going to be worried out of your mind for you." You called back, but the rain in front of you was blurring your vision and you kept pushing your hair out of your face.
Vermax let out a displeased growl as thunder rolled through the clouds. Jace squinted his eyes to make you out next to him, the storm getting stronger and stronger by the minute. "I'm not going to let us get struck by lightning! There's a merchant route right under us, if I remember it right. We land, now."
You reluctantly tugged the reigns of your dragon tighter around your fists and steered her down, following Jace and Vermax through the clouds as they descended. You couldn't argue with him, but a stop in an unknown region was risky. Even if you two were in the company of your dragons.
By the time you had landed in a clearing of the forest Jace had spotted from up above, your clothes were dripping wet on the ground.
Climbing down your dragon's back, you couldn't help but snort as Vermax immediately seeked shelter underneath the massive pine trees from the weather, his rider fondly shaking his head at his companion.Â
As you approached, Jace sighed and squinted up into the sky above you. "I know you dislike this, as I do. But I'm not taking a risk. It's better to wait the night instead of getting attacked in a thunderstorm, don't you agree?"
"YesâŚ" You looked at him, still a little conflicted. "But we can only hope our people at Dragonstone agree with you as well."
Jace smiled at you, raising both his hands in defense. Like this, eyes bright and wet hair curling around his already beautiful face, he was a vision, making you permanently weak in the knees. "They will agree, because I am protecting the princess, my betrothed, as you are protecting yours."
Yours.
You involuntarily shuddered, the promise of being married to him one day never tiring of sending lightning through you.
While you understood the Queen's choice to wait with marrying you because of the war, you were growing tired of being denied what you craved so badly; not the ring on your finger - a beautiful thing you knew Jace had already commissioned to being forged, one of Vermax' scales sitting in its silver center - but the boy you were dreaming about at night, visiting you in the quietness of Dragonstone, sliding underneath your warm covers to-
"Everything alright?" Jace had stepped to your side, one hand on your shoulder.Â
You nodded, swallowing thickly. "We should stop and rest at the first place we can find."
The traveler's road was empty and no one noticed the two of you stepping out of the forest and making your way over to the first building you saw, a small inn with its windows alight from the inside.
You shivered at the thought of a warm fire and wrinkled your nose at your clammy leathers. On top of it, your belly growled and Jacaerys and you shared a look.
A little smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Don't worry, I'll find you something to eat even if I have to hunt it myself tonight."
You blushed, his words always managing to touch something deep within you.
Jace and you entered the inn, immediately enveloped by its delicious warmth and sociability. As Prince and Princess, you were not used to a civility like this and for a moment, you wondered what it'd be like to live like this, leading a simple life with Jace where no one would know you and you could do whatever you pleased. What a dangerous thought this was...
Just before you and him reached the small reception counter of the inn, Jace placed one of his gloved hands on your lower back, a secure and telling gesture that made your skin underneath the riding leathers burn pleasantly.
"Good evening." He spoke confidently. "My wife and I are looking for a place to stay for the night. The storm has caught us off guard on the road."
The innkeeper looked at you and although you knew he didn't want to hear it, you silently said a prayer of gratitude for Jace's beautiful dark hair and eyes. If he'd have silver hair, all could be lost, depending on the opinion of the inn's staff on this ongoing war.
You tugged your cloak tighter around you, hiding the riding leathers on your body, and looked back calmly. You forced your bottom lip to wobble as if you only now remembered the cold haunting your bones. How fast could you make your way back to the forest and your dragons before the whole house was up on their feet for two Targaryens in its midst?
"It caught us off guard alright as well, good sir." The innkeeper said goodnaturedly after a moment and you sighed on the inside. "The taproom is bursting at the seams tonight. I can only offer a single room, but I'm sure it's no problem for two young lovebirds like you. Dinner will be served for you, too, if you require it."
Jace swallowed thickly, not meeting your gaze at the prospect of a tiny room for the two of you.Â
So far, your betrothal had consisted of courting each other quietly and sweetly, the long promised wedding pushed back again and again, much to your frustration. To share a room with Jace before you were married - it sent a shiver down your spine and you couldn't say it was a bad one.
"We require it. And thank you for the room. We will pay in advance, of course." Jace produced a small sack of coins from his cloak and you stepped aside and peeked into the full taproom, trying to calm your racing heart.
When he was done, Jacaerys stepped up to you and smiled encouragingly, although you could see through him instantly and saw the same nervousness possessing you. This was no place for you two and yet here you were.
"Dinner, my lady?" Jace asked under his breath and with a snort, you let yourself be led into the taproom, carefully avoiding any curious eyes on you as you found a quiet corner in the far back where hopefully no one would disturb you or have questions.Â
Quickly, two plates with bread, cheese and tomatoes were brought to your table and Jacaerys and you began to eat, tense in your wariness for your surroundings but comfortable in each other's presence.Â
He politely declined the waitress's offer of beer, but made her bring you a pitcher of clear water, the day spent underneath the sun having dried out your bodies like nothing else.
After a while - you were still munching on your bread and Jace looked about to be finished - he took a few of his tomatoes and placed them on your plate, a silent encouragement.
"Thank you." You said quietly and ate them too while he kept watch, over you and the room behind you. But in all the hustle going on in there, no one had time or interest for a young couple on the road and soon, your plates were empty and you retreated upstairs and down the narrow corridor.
The last door was yours.
Your eyes widened shortly as you took in your room for the night. There was a window where rain splattered against the glass, a small table with a chair and a bed, although it could barely be called that if you thought of your enormous bed at Dragonstone.
Beside you, you could feel Jace pausing as he locked the door, his eyes darting back and forth between you and the tiny bed in the corner of the room. If only one of you could fit, it'd be a miracle and the floor was in no condition to be slept on.
You took off your cloak and threw it over the chair, opening your mouth to speak just as Jace did.
"I'm taking the floor." He declared and you wanted to roll your eyes and also kiss him for his selflessness.
"You will not sleep on this floor, Jace." You argued and as you wrung out your damp hair, the last droplets of water fell onto the boards, blooming in the dust covering them.Â
Jace stayed silent for a moment, wrapping a cloth from within his cloak around the doorknob and tying a tight knot, so you wouldn't be disturbed by any unpleasant visitors tonight.
"Please don't be ridiculous now." You tried again, softer this time. "You had a long flight today, too. We slept side by side when we were kids sometimes, remember? We'd fall asleep in the gardens of King's Landing while we watched the clouds, dreaming of riding our dragons someday."
"But we are not kids anymore." Jacaerys said quietly.
No, you weren't.Â
And as you looked at him, reaching behind himself to unclasp his cloak, his dark curls still framing his serious face, you knew there was not an ounce of childlike innocence in you when it came to him.
"And I-" He interrupted himself as his cloak joined yours on the chair and you did not step back, only shuffling closer to rest your hand on his nape.Â
What had gotten into you? This boldness, it was dangerous and misplaced and- very much exciting.
Jace slowly looked at you, his dark eyes like burning embers, bringing the heat to your cheek you so desperately needed.
"I'm afraid I cannot control myself around you, princess." He confessed hoarsely and for a moment you thought the wooden floor underneath you had turned into water and you were trying to dance on top of it, unsteady.
You exhaled shakingly, tongue tied in your shock at his confession, but a burning heat swirling pleased in your stomach.Â
After a moment, he forced himself to tear himself away from you and cleared his throat. "I mean this in the most chivalrous manner, but I think we should take off our leathers if we don't want to be sick in two days."
You agreed and the two of you turned away from each other, the spell broken.
You faced the wall by the bed as you reached behind yourself, your fingers fumbling with the laces of your uniform. Whoever had invented dragonrider clothes had not intended them to be taken off without the help of half a dozen maids.
Your movements were clumsy and unpracticed, used to getting attended to by your maids for these kinds of things, preferably followed by a hot bath after a long flight.
But now, you were helpless and frustration grew quickly in you until you tilted your head back and let out a tired sigh.
"Jace?" You spoke over your shoulder and heard shuffling.Â
"Yes?"Â
"I...I can't take them off myself." You admitted, risking a look behind you to see his leather uniform draped over the table, only thin linen pants and a matching top remaining on him. You had never seen him like this, never could've imagined what was laying underneath his princely attires. He looked...innocent, like a boy with big eyes as he watched you. Biting your lip, you added: "Could you help me, at least with my laces?"
"Of course." He breathed and stepped closer as you turned around again, holding yourself completely still as you felt his warmth radiating against your back.
Suddenly, his hand was in your hair, brushing in awe over the wavy strands. "Can IâŚ"
"Yes." You breathed, your nerves fluttering. "Please."
You shuddered as he carefully brushed your hair over your shoulder, exposing your tightly laced back to him.
Then, with surprisingly skillful fingers, he began to swiftly unlace you, his hands dancing over your spine and making their way down your back.
You were sure neither of you was breathing, your mind growing a bit foggy as you let him attend you like this, the task of a maid replaced by the care of your betrothed.
"All done." He whispered after a while and you were snapped out of your dreamy thoughts. You could already breathe more lightly as the riding leather dangled down on your sides, the front only held up now by your hands on your chest.
"Thank you." You whispered back. What would happen if you turned around now and faced him? Were you too far gone already or would you be able to remember yourself before it was too late?
"I'll light some candles and I...I won't look." Jace said flustered and turned away again, giving you as much privacy as he could as he busied himself with the unlit candles by the table.
Quickly, you slid out of the rest of your uniform until only the thin dress you wore underneath remained. With only these undergarments on you, you almost tripped as you slipped under the covers of the bed and pulled them all up to your chin.
The cold rushed back into you tenfold and you pressed your lips together to keep your teeth from clattering.Â
Silently, you watched as Jace lit the last candle and checked the doorknob for one last time to make sure you were safe for the night.
When there was nothing to be done about the state of the room anymore, he met your gaze and asked one more time: "Are you sure?"
I'm afraid I cannot control myself around youâŚ
You nodded, shuffling to the wall as far as you could. There was barely space left for another person, even like this. "Yes. We both need rest."
It seemed like your shivering only intensified as you felt his weight dip on the mattress, joining you as carefully as he could without bumping his knee into your side.
When he was settled, on his slim back while you laid on your side, facing away from him to hide your burning face, he drew the blanket over the two of you, trapping you in for a tight fit and combined warmth, hopefully.
The silence in the room was thick, loaded by something you could not name yet.Â
"Try to sleep." Jace whispered to you in the darkness. "Tomorrow, at sunrise, we'll take flight."
You tried your best, you really did.Â
But there was no use, not when he was laying so close to you. You were too aware of him, too overstimulated by the mere thought of his body so close to yours, his body heat radiating off of him while you still missed your own.
You were sure the whole mattress was shaking with your quivering, your lips blue and limbs clammy from the cold that had soaked into you on dragonback. Squeezing your eyes shut, you prayed for a slumber that wouldn't come.Â
Jacaerys couldn't bear it anymore.
Seeing you, feeling you shiver so pitifully, he had to put an end to it. It was what a good husband would do.
"PrincessâŚ" He whispered into the darkness and you tensed. "You're freezing. If you'd let me...I want to help."
"Help?" You echoed, looking over your shoulder. Like this, you could only make out his eyes in the dark, his silhouette tempting and comforting at once.
Jace swallowed thickly, shuffling until he laid on his side and could support his head with his hand. "If we'd be...closer, I could warm you."
Your heart skipped a beat at his suggestion, his boldness surprising both you and himself. As scandalous as it was, you already felt yourself drawn to him, your cold bones screaming yes, yes, yes.
"If I won't inconvenience you." You murmured shyly. "I'm shaking like a leaf."
"I'll do my best to change that." Jace promised dutifully, darkly, and shuffled even closer.
Now, you were sure your heart was going to give out.Â
Underneath the blanket you shared, Jace pulled you to him, his arm sneaking around your waist as your back met his chest.
You sighed, a small sound of relief as the warmth of him enveloped you and you could feel it also leaving his chest, as if you were two pieces melting together into one.
It was a lover's embrace, there was no doubt about it, but the line between you had already been blurred tonight, ever since he had called you his wife downstairs.
It should've surprised you more, how well your bodies fitted together, how natural the curve of your spine found its place against his lean torso. With his arm securely around you, making sure you'd stay connected, you were not sure if you could not breathe anymore or were finally able to.
"Is this good?" He asked you quietly after some time, your heads now sharing a pillow, a space, an embrace.
No. You needed more.
"Yeah...you are really warm." You breathed out and he chuckled and gods, you could feel the sound against you and thought nothing about this was real, not the inn, not tonight, certainly not him.
You shifted in his embrace, trying to get a little more comfortable when he suddenly let out a low hiss, your bum brushing against-
Oh.
Oh.
You wanted to combust.
You wanted to turn around and kiss him stupid. You wanted to do everything and yet, you were frozen in place, hotness rushing through you at the thought that your prince had gotten aroused while he laid with you like this.
"'m sorryâŚ" He whispered near your ear and in front of your inner eye, you saw his eyes closing in defeat, having given in so quickly to his carnal desires.
You were about to be a very bad betrothed.
Innocently, you moved back against him and he choked on his breath, his mouth now hovering over your nape, the damp hair you wished to be out of your way now to feel him better.
Your hand rested on his forearm around you and you traveled your fingertips upwards, brushing over his knuckles until you could entwine your fingers, squeezing him reassuringly.
"Princess...we can't." You wanted to chuckle at his unconvinced tone, an unfamiliar strain to his voice like he was trying his best and most to hold himself back from giving in to you.
"We can." You whispered back, kissing his hand in yours and hearing him sigh behind you. "I want you so badly, I feel like I'm dying."
It was too much, to hear those same words he only dared to think in his mind, it shattered the last bit of self control Jacaerys could muster up. He had been aroused ever since he helped you undress, the dreams that usually had him waking up in a sweat in his chambers at Dragonstone now coming true right in front of him.
"Please, Jace." You added with a sigh, pushing back against him. "Give in, please."
He surged forward, his lips making contact with your neck and setting you aflame.
You let out a low moan, the sight of the wall disappearing in front of you as you closed your eyes blissfully, focused only on the feel of Jacaerys lapping at your neck.
It was like he tasted something exquisite and unique, taking his time as he brushed your hair aside, his other hand delicately holding your jaw as he suckled the sensitive spot underneath your ear, making you twitch back in surprise against the outline of his hard cock.
He stifled a groan, something final snapping in him and he turned your head, his finger swiping over your chin and cheek as you both stared at each other, pupils gone wide and dark with desire.
"May I kiss you?" He asked huskily and you nodded quickly, your hand finding its way into his curls, tugging him closer until his hot breath grazed your bottom lip.
"Yes." You let out breathlessly. "Kiss me, please, I-"
He closed the distance between you, engulfing your mouth in a hot, desperate kiss, both of your lust and longing for each other too grand to think clearly anymore.
Still gently holding your jaw and you in his arms, he kissed you passionately, his lips moving slow and relishing against yours. You sighed happily against him, your fingers tightening their hold on his curls and making him groan, his free hand spreading itself out on your stomach.
Heat sloshed through you as your tongues danced, the kiss so much more than what you'd ever could've dreamed of. You never wanted to stop again.
His embrace was possessive, with not much room for you to do anything else but give yourself over to him, caged between the wall and his lean body.
You wanted to drown in his kisses, never to be seen again.
When the air in your lungs got thinner, making you lightheaded, the two of you pulled apart, panting and staring at each other with kiss-bruised lips.
Your hand fell over his own on your stomach, the fabric of your undergarment dress worthy to you of being burned in the heat of the moment.
"Can I touch you?" Jace gasped into your ear, almost a plea.
You nodded frantically, but he shook his head, his curls brushing against your cheek. "I need to hear it from you, love."
Gods, you were truly going to die by his tender hands.
"YesâŚ" You hissed, your mind already drunk on him. "I want you to touch me, Jace, I need it so badly."
You ground your bum back against him and Jace released a moan, the sound going right into your core, where wetness was pooling between your thighs and making a mess of you.
He peppered kisses on your cheek and jaw, relishing the way your back arched against him as his hand dove underneath the blanket and fumbled with the seams of your gown, tugging up the fabric as he went.
His hand slid over your naked leg, the skin still a little cold and covered in goosebumps he hoped were his doing. Up and up he went and you were panting by now, mind and body controlled by arousal for him, just for him.
Resting a gentle hand on your inner thigh, he spread your legs open, just a little, and kissed you once again, so he could feel the exact moment you'd-
"Ah-" You gasped in his mouth as his fingertips touched your clit and it shouldn't have been enough, you wanted so much more, but you already felt like you were able to find release from just this.
"Gods, you're driving me insane." He groaned, burying his face in your neck and suckling on it as he slowly began to rub circles onto you, his hand dipping down further to gather more of your wetness on his fingers.Â
You shuddered at the sensation of his hand between your legs and then you keened as he obscenely spread your own juices over your clit, swirling his finger over the aching bundle of nerves.
"FuckâŚ" You whispered, your mouth falling open as he started a careful rhythm, letting you adjust to the sensation of having your clit pampered like this, easy circles and slight rubs.
Laying on your side only seemed to heighten your senses.
Your quivering legs tangled, bodies firmly pressed together, his hands around you like vines protecting a precious secret. You did not know anymore if you were tense or melting as he played with you, experimenting with the direction his fingers could go, gently tapping against your sensitive flesh which made you see stars...
And of course, your thighs - becoming sticky with your own juices, his finger being joined by another one and carefully massaging your most intimate part. With every round they went on you, your grasp on control slipped a little more and soon, you were a writhing mess, bucking your hips against Jace's hand as he continued to kiss your neck and relished the delicious little sounds you made because of him.
"You're so wet." He murmured, in awe of you and your body and you moaned, slumping against his back as he gently plucked on your clit, shiver after shiver running through you and ruining you. "I only dreamed of you like this, princess. You are a sight to behold."
You wanted to say something, anything, but it seemed like your brain had melted, mewling as he cupped your whole core and slowly shook his hand, the friction intensifying only more as vibrations were sent through your pussy.
"Where did you learn all this?" You asked breathlessly and he chuckled, blushing and nuzzling your sweaty neck lovingly as he dipped his fingers lower, almost where you needed him the most.
"The library at Dragonstone can be very...educational. On many different topics." He murmured melodically and you were still, awaiting, as he pushed your undergarments up more, his hand drifting up over your stomach and towards your chest. "Some of the books our ancestors kept there are very...interesting to read. Diaries of fiery encounters and instructions on love making. I had to resist taking notes when I read some of those passages, on how to please women when I could only picture you in my head."
A guttural, broken moan left you when he mouthed at your neck, licking over your exposed throat.
It distracted you just enough that he nearly sent you into an early release as his wet, glistening thumb circled around one of your rosy buds before he raised the same finger to his lips and had a taste.
You both groaned in union, your thighs squeezing together as you stared at him, his own eyes closed in bliss at the taste of you. Just as he had imaginedâŚlike honeydew.
He slid his hand underneath your neck so you could rest your head on his strong arm, the same hand coming down to cup one of your aching tits. Like in everything else; you were perfect for each other here. His hand had just the right size for you.
You eagerly spread your legs again as his other hand snaked down your body again, both his and your remaining clothes drenched by sweat, the room smelling of sex.
"I'm dying to know how you feel around my fingers, princess." He confessed and you bit your lip, trying to fight the urge to cross your eyes as his fingers ghosted over your wet clit again; and losing. "Can I? Can I have you like this, my love?"
What a dirty tongue your betrothed hadâŚ
If your mind had been any clearer and not as fucked out, you would've asked him if he also learned that in his books, but that was a conversation for another day.
"Yes." You gasped instead, bucking once again against his hand over you, cupping your core and squeezing your clit between two of his digits, making you moan brokenly. "Please, Jace, I need you to fuck me, please, fuck me-"
You knew he couldn't, you both couldn't, at least this much of both your composures remained. But there were other ways to find release and apparently, your sweet betrothed was an expert at executing them.
He raised himself a little, peeking over your shoulder so he could look at your heated face, rosy cheek and wet, parted lips just for him. Jace pulled you into a kiss, sweet and slow this time and you moaned right into his mouth at the taste of yourself on his tongue.
Your eyelashes fluttered against your cheeks and you were overwhelmed in the best possible way as Jace's finger slid through your juices once again before he entered you.
You could've sworn you heard his and your dragon roar triumphantly in the distance as he slid his finger into your drenched core, your moan loud enough to go beyond the walls of your room and raise questions - or brows at such distasteful actions behind closed doors. If they only knew.
He groaned at how tightly you squeezed his single digit, fantasizing how you'd feel around his cock. Jace twitched against your back and you held him only tighter, your hot walls eager to let him in.Â
You were so wet, it was a slippery little affair and as he let you adjust, his thumb rubbed soothing circles on your clit, his rhythm reflected in the way your core clenched up deliciously.
You locked eyes with him, half-lidded and ready to die a sweet death at his hands, begging him softly: "You can move. It's okay, you won't hurt me."Â
It was like you were playing your wedding night and he let out a shuddering breath, needing to stay in control before he threw it out of the window and deflowered you right here, in a bed and place that wasn't worthy of you. He'd never forgive himself if he would not make it special.
Slowly, he pushed forward and further into your heat, his finger quickly becoming wet and slippery and covered in you.
You let out a satisfied sigh, letting yourself be kissed as he oh so gently began to build up an easy rhythm, not brave enough yet to sink to the knuckle into you, but feeding your soaked cunt more and more of him, his mind alert to spot any discomfort in you and ready to stop and wait for you.
But you had wanted him for far too long to need any more caution from him.
And the sounds - gods, the sounds were driving you insane. You were so wet, your pussy was making slurping sounds at the intrusion of his finger and you bit your lip blissfully when he finally found his pace, light and easy on you, but no less hot and intense.
Only the rain splattering against the windows and your little moans and gasps could be heard as he fingered you gently, the pads of his finger dragging over your walls and trying to find the one tiny spot he had read about, enough to make a woman lose her mind and all final restraints if done right.
You were mewling, gripping his arm over your chest tightly and occasionally biting his skin softly to stop you from being too loud.Â
"You are so beautiful." He slurred against your temple, keeping his eyes only on you to capture every one of your reactions and keep it in his mind.
You moaned wantonly, maybe because of the praise or because his thumb dragged over your pulsing clit, he didn't know. But oh, how he wanted to find out.
For just a moment, he stilled his movements and you looked at him with wide eyes, your hips trying to fuck yourself on his fingers, but him not letting you.Â
Jace watched you closely, quickly kissing your quivering lips before his voice dropped low and he murmured: "Your cunt feels so good around my fingers, my love. You're squeezing me so tightly, Ăąuha jorrÄeliarzy, you are the most beautiful thing in the whole realm and all mine."
"Yours." You echoed and whimpered, solely because of his words.
He couldn't help but smile besottedly, storing the effect of his words on you away for another time and resuming to fingering you gently.Â
Soon, after you whispered you were ready for one more, two of his fingers were now softly pumping in and out of you and you knew you could not last much longer under his sweet tormention.
Your hips had begun to move on their own and he watched you with both fascination and love as you rode on his fingers, your eyes closed and your lovely mouth opened in the sweetest o-shape.Â
If he'd still now, he knew you'd continue to fuck yourself on him and god, how he wanted to see it, but there was still one ace up his sleeve and he couldn't wait any longer to try it.
He crooked both his fingers upwards and you tensed in his arms, moaning into his arm and losing yourself almost completely as he touched a part of you you didn't even know existed.
"Jacaerys, gods, I-" You whimpered as the pads of his fingers rubbed against that rough little spot in you, your hips twitching uncontrollably.
"Let go for me, princess." He encouraged you, kissing your cheek and nuzzling his face against yours sweetly. "I can feel you dripping around me, your perfect cunt weeping for meâŚ"
You were floating, only held back by Jacaerys' arms around you, playing your body like a delicate instrument as one hand played with your tit while the other still rubbed against your sweet spot, eager to bring you to release.
His thumb came back onto your clit and your hips arched, pressing yourself forward against his sticky hand as he rubbed delicious circles on you.
"Come for me, my love, I need to see, need to feel you." He coaxed you further, smiling against your neck and adding in a whisper: "Let go for me, my sweet wife."
That was it.
You exploded, coming hard around his fingers, whimpering pitifully as tears of pleasure and overwhelm escaped your eyes.Â
You rode your high, your hips helplessly bucking against Jacaerys as he kissed your tears away, softly talking you through it and soothing you down with gentle hands from a peak you had no idea how to recover fromâŚ
Jace watched you closely, fascinated and so, so in love, as he slowly slipped his fingers out of you, an obscene string connecting them to your wetness he could not see.
To make sure you would not feel too empty, his hand cupped your mound, keeping you warm and secure as little aftershocks ran through you and you were panting and peppering little kisses on his arm, clinging to him with all your might.
"You were so goodâŚ" Jace whispered lovingly, kissing whatever he could reach of you, his body keeping you warm and sated in the aftermath of both your actions. "So, so beautifulâŚ"
You hummed, tired and thoroughly happy as you slowly calmed down, relishing the feeling of his warm hand still on you, carefully avoiding your spent parts so you wouldn't feel overstimulated.
Exhaustion clung to your bones, a mixture of the long day on dragonback and the oblivion of good sex, but you still felt Jacaerys hard against your back. He had not yet found his release and you were eager to give it to him.
You tried to turn around, to reach down between you and touch him, but he was not having it.
"Sh sh, this was only about you, my love." He shushed you, his strong arms efficiently stopping you from wriggling against him. He soothed his hands over your sides and kissed your temple. "When I take you to bed properly, it will be at Dragonstone where I can take care of you as a loving husband should."
You shivered at the promise, without any coldness left in your veins.
He smiled against your cheek, his fingers lightly drawing circles onto your hip bone as he leaned closer and whispered into your ear: "And then, I'm going to take my time with you, princess, learning how you taste on my tongue...ravishing that sweet little cunt of yoursâŚ"
Your core deliciously clenched up at the thought, but you were also sleepy, your eyelids already betraying your intentions as they drooped. You snuggled yourself closer against Jacaerys, stifling a yawn.
"Don't worry, we'll have all the time in the worldâŚ" Jace lulled you closer to sleep, the sweet nothings he whispered to you being like a warm blanket draping itself over you.
"JacaerysâŚ" You mumbled, feeling your grasp on staying awake slip further as his hands ran softly over you, making your mind hazy and blank. "Thank you...I- I'm very warm nowâŚ"
He laughed quietly, his chest blooming with happiness as he felt your body slump against his.Â
Jace closed his own eyes, resting his chin on top of your head and holding you against him protectively. He was the luckiest prince of the realm tonight and forever if he only had you.
And you, his princess, were warm and sated and in the embrace of the one you belonged to.
And suddenly, as you drifted off into a long and peaceful slumber, flying back to Dragonstone in the morning did not look so dreadful anymore...
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Tyler Owens x Reader: Read Between the Lines
Request: anonymous said: "I was wondering maybeeee if you could write some protective bf Tyler ( because i would be swooning ) maybe either someone keeps hitting on her so he steps in or someone maybe in another storm chasing crew is being mean so he steps in and defends her <3 idk"
Word count: 3.9k
Warnings: language, mild fighting i guess?? slight angst
A/N: sorry I haven't been posting as frequently! I started work up again and ya girl has been BUSY. Anyyywayyy, thank you for reading! please keep the comments coming! I love to see all your requests and I promise i'm getting to them as quickly as i can :)
âNeed anything?â Tyler asked, leaning against the hood of the truck in a way that shouldnât be as adorable as it is.Â
âIâm good,â you said, offering him a gentle smile before brushing a few loose strands of hair from your sticky forehead.Â
âYou wanna come in with me then?âÂ
You shook your headâ the idea of sitting in a stale diner with no AC was just about as unbearable as the thought of driving another second. âNo, I think Iâll stretch my legs out here.â
âOkay,â he said in a tone that indicated youâd be missing out. He gave the truck a pat before adding, âWe wonât be long.â
âTake your time,â you assured him.Â
He offered one final nod before turning and following Dani, Boone, and Lily across the parking lot. Dexter also stayed behind. Instead of shitty diner food, heâs opted to take a nap inside the RV accompanied by his noise canceling headphones and a fan blasting right at his face.Â
You were exhausted, down to your bones. You and the rest of the team had driven nearly six hours that day tracking a cell that hadnât ended up amounting to anything. You were stiff and tired and irritableâ just like everyone else. But you hoped that some time alone outside might help at least level out your mood.
You extended your arms over your head, groaning when you felt something lightly pop in your back, before craning your neck from side to side. The air was stiflingâ thick and humid with little to no breeze for any sort of relief. The heat hadnât broken in nearly a week, and unfortunately for just about everyone, the truckâs AC didnât work as well as it used to.Â
The parking lot to the diner was relatively empty. Aside from the crewâs RV and truck, there was an SUV parked in one of the front spots and a small sports car with a steady cloud of smoke pouring out the cracked window. Â
You let your eyes wander past the diner parking lot at the sprawling field across the road. The windmills were agonizingly still in the stale airâ like even they were desperate for some reprieve.Â
Your eyes fell shut as you took a few deep breaths, trying to get your bearings.Â
Your peace lasted for about thirty seconds. And then the sound of blaring music and screeching tires had you turning your pulsing head. Instantly, you rolled your eyes at the sight of the familiar vans pulling into the lot beside you.Â
Merrill Anderson and his crew started chasing in the area almost thirteen months ago. You knew because each and every moment that youâd known about their existence had been more painful than the last.Â
Anderson was a meteorologist out of Texas that wore a cowboy hat almost as big as his mouth and an inflated ego to match it. He made sure you and everyone else around him knew that he had a PhD, and therefore, in his opinion, was automatically more entitled to chase. Him and Tyler had hated each other from the moment they met while chasing an EF2 in Arkansasâ their feud only grew each time their paths crossed.Â
Anderson was grinning at you through the window as soon as his van rolled by. You did your best to avert your gazeâ hoping that lack of eye contact would avoid any sort of conversation.Â
Unfortunately, you werenât so lucky.Â
âThere she is,â he announced, boots scuffing against the dirt parking lot as he hopped out from the driverâs seat.Â
âNow what're you doinâ out here all by yourself? Your team finally leave you behind? Realized they didnât need two uni drop outs on their team?â he asked, tone already dripping in sarcasm.Â
He was an antagonizer who got off on provoking others. And although you and Anderson had your fair share of unpleasant exchanges, you knew he only ever bothered you to get under Tylerâs skin.Â
Tylerâs biggest weakness was that he was endlessly protective of the people he loved. You saw this particular trait as a strengthâ but you knew that Anderson fed off Tyler's anger, which you could only imagine was his intention now. Thankfully Tyler was in the dinerâ hopefully gorging on raspberry pancakes as you spoke. Because if he were to see Anderson talking to youâ you knew this whole interaction would escalate quickly.Â
âAnderson,â you sighed, leaning casually against the hood of Tylerâs truck. The smile you forced on your face was almost painful. âSo lovely to see you, as always.â
You hoped if you withheld from his taunting, he might move on quicker.Â
Instead, to your despair, he backtracked from his van to stand across from you. âYou guys go ahead,â he instructed his crew. âIâm gonna spend some time with my friend here.â
They nodded before heading towards the diner, leaving the two of you alone.Â
âYou should teach that hillbilly- boyfriend of yours some manners. If I remember correctly, last time I saw him, he drove through a puddle to splash me.â
You bit back a grin as you recalled the moment he was referring to. âIâm sure it wasnât on purpose,â you lied (it was absolutely on purpose).Â
Anderson chuckled. âYou knowâ I donât know if weâve ever had a conversation just us, without him lingering around. Youâre much more pleasant. Both in conversation and in looks.âÂ
You felt a chill run down the length of your spine at his wordsâ but the way he was looking at you was infinitely worse. You watched as his eyes flickered from your face to your chestâ currently more exposed than you would like in the tanktop you wore in the stifling Oklahoma heat. You wished you had grabbed a shirt to cover up inâ but they were all either dirty and packed away somewhere in your duffel.Â
Clearing your throat, you stood up straight and crossed your arms, attempting to shield yourself from his lingering gaze.Â
âOh, hey now darlinâ, donât cover up. Iâve been stuck in the van all day with these jokers, this is the most action Iâve gotten all summer.âÂ
You could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks as you tried desperately to remain level headed. Anderson was a jerkâ and heâd definitely make you uncomfortable⌠but you couldnât imagine that heâd ever actually do anything to harm you. Â
Then again, youâd never interacted with him for longer than a minute or two with Tyler and the rest of the crew at your side. This was uncharted territory that you didnât care to explore. You felt your earlier determination to handle him on your own fade away with uneasiness. Â
You turned your head towards the diner, hoping you might catch Tylerâs gaze through the window or something. Of course you were too far away for thatâ all you caught was the glare from the sun.Â
âYou know Iâm not used to seeing you in clothes like this, usually youâre all covered up,â Anderson whistled.Â
As soon as he took a step closer, you instinctively moved too. Except your legs collided with Tylerâs truckâ preventing you from actually going anywhere. For some dumb reason, you felt obligated to hold your groundâ to not let him see how uncomfortable he was really making you. But with each passing comment, you grew more and more fearful.Â
Anderson now had his body angled towards you with a look that could only be described as predatorial. âGod, itâs true you donât know what youâre missinâ til you see it. We should have these heat waves more often if it means I get to take a look at this every day.â
You tried and failed to remain stoic. You wanted to yellâ to tell him to shut the fuck up. But for some reason, your body and brain werenât connecting.Â
âCâmon, where is she?â he taunted. âYou know, your sweet side has its perks. But I much prefer âem a little spicy.âÂ
He took another few steps closer to you. It was subtle, but you noticed. Anderson was so obviously getting a kick out of whatever the hell he was doing here, and you were doing a piss-poor job at withholding from it, like youâd originally planned.Â
âWhy donât you come on back in my van with me,â he winked. âIâm not sure how your hillbilly does it, but I can show ya a real good time.âÂ
Get away from me, you wanted to scream. But your mouth wouldnât moveâ your voice was lost somewhere inside of you. And all you could get your body to do was lean away from him slightly.Â
âDonât be like that, darlinâ,â he cooed. He was so close that you could almost smell his breath. Your brain told you to fightâ to shove or kick or do something to get him away from you. But all those previous instincts you had to fight back faded into paralyzing fear.Â
Anderson reached across the space between you to move a loose strand of hair from your face as you began to tremble. âAnd donât be afraid, baby doll. I donât bite⌠too hard. Owens ainât gotta knowââ
âAnderson!âÂ
Your head snapped at the sound of a familiar voice⌠Not just any familiar voiceâ Tylerâs voice. He was currently storming across the parking lot with a look of pure hatred across his face. The second his eyes landed on youâ undoubtedly and obviously terrified, that anger only intensified.Â
âGet the fuck away from her,â he demanded. His eyes were narrowed and shockingly darker than their normal shade of sage.Â
âHere he is!â Anderson taunted. âHer douche bag in shining armor.â
You couldnât help but notice Anderson didnât step away. In fact, if anything, he looked like he was about to step closer, just to really test his limits. But then, to your relief, you saw Boone, Dani, and Lily storming out of the diner in Tylerâs wakeâ all coming to your rescue.Â
In an instant, Tyler was there, stepping between you and Andersonâ forming the protective barrier you needed to finally feel safe again. Without thinking, you fisted the back of Tylerâs T-shirt for good measure.Â
âEasy, Rambo,â Anderson sneered. âI was just tellinâ your sweetheart here how much I enjoy her new look. Who knew she had all this hidinâ under those baggy shirts? That the reason you keep her hanginâ around, Owens? I knew she had to be good for somethingââ
But Anderson didnât get a chance to finish his sentence. Because before you knew what was happening, Tyler was lunging forward and connecting his fist with Andersonâs nose.Â
The crack as it broke was deafening, you released Tylerâs shirt to cover your mouth in shock. Tyler hit him with enough force that he went staggering back a few steps, his hands instantly moving to cup his face.Â
Tyler was still shaking off his hand when Anderson stood up straight, blood pouring out of both nostrils.Â
âDamn, that bitch must be as good as she looks if sheâs worth all this,â Anderson continued to taunt. Even with a broken nose, he didnât back down. Â
Without even hesitating, Tyler moved to strike again. But as soon as he did, Boone and Dani were both stepping in front of him to break things up.Â
âEasy, Tââ Boone said.Â
âStay the fuck away from her,â Tyler snarled in warning, pointing his finger over Booneâs shoulder. Youâd never quite heard his voice so malicious or threatening before, and even though it was in your defense, it sent shivers down your spine.  Â
Suddenly, Lily grabbed your hand from the side, causing you to flinch. âItâs okay,â she said, tugging you a few steps away from the chaosâ like she knew how badly you needed space from everything. âYou alright?â
You nodded, flustered. Â
âNext time you want to settle this without your little army of strays, you let me know, Owens. And next time you want a good time, Y/N, you know where to find me,â Anderson said, offering you a wink that churned your stomach. With that, he wiped some blood from his nose and began sauntering back towards his van.Â
âIâm gonna fucking kill him,â Tyler snarled, still being physically held back by Dani and Boone.Â
âYeah, and heâd deserve it. But heâs not worth catchinâ a charge,â Boone said. âItâs been a slow season and we donât got the kind of money to bail you out of jail.â
âTake a breath, T,â Dani said. âHeâs walkinâ away. Take a breath.â
You watched Tyler slowly come back to his body. He listened to Dani and took a deep breathâ his shoulders visibly relaxing when he exhaled. It seemed to be enough for his friends to finally release him.Â
As soon as he was free from their grasp, Tyler turned aroundâ his attention landing on you. âAre you okay?â he asked, his previously menacing voice now laced with so much care and concern. He stood in front of youâ his body blocking all views of Anderson and their vans. His hands moved to cup your cheeks gently.Â
âIâm fine,â you said, attempting to convince yourself more than anyone else. But even you knew it didnât sound convincing. Your voice subtly cracked on the final word.Â
Tyler stroked his thumb along your skin. The look on his face told you he didnât quite believe you as his eyes flickered down to your trembling hands. Thankfully he didnât ask more.Â
âI gotta say that was a nasty right hook, T,â Boone said, clapping Tyler on the back as he approached. âI didnât know you had it in ya.â
âWhatâd that asshat say to you?â Lily asked. âYou looked really shaken up when we saw you out the diner window.â
âNothing,â you mumbled, too embarrassed to repeat his taunts. You were shocked by how self-conscious you suddenly felt with everyoneâs eyes on you. Andersonâs previous words had made you incredibly aware of every inch of yourselfâ like there was an electrical current humming underneath the surface of your skin.Â
âJust the usual shit,â you tried to brush it off. Â
You felt grateful when they didnât push.Â
Eventually, the crew disassembledâ everyone focused on getting their stuff together to hit the road again. Anderson didnât reemerge from his van, but as you sat idly in the passenger seat of Tylerâs truck, you didnât take your eyes off from where it was parkedâ like you were anticipating some sort of retaliation.Â
You remained hidden from the teamâ feeling so awkward and uncomfortableâ like you didnât want to be perceived or noticed by anyone. And you hated that Andersonâs words were the ones to make you feel that way. You couldnât find any shirts in your duffel bag that werenât disgusting. And currently you didnât have the time or patience to dig through your second bag in the RV. So instead, you wrapped your arms awkwardly over your chest, trying to make yourself as small as possible just as Tyler climbed into the front seat.Â
âEveryone else is riding in the RV, itâs just us,â he said, eyes lingering on you.Â
âOkay,â you said, trying your best to sound casual. You wondered if he ordered everyone in the RV so that youâd feel more comfortable. You made a mental note to thank him for that later, he was always so good at reading between the lines. Â
Tyler instantly noticed your uneasiness. âBaby, whatâd he say to you?âÂ
You shrugged, refusing to meet his gaze out of sheer embarrassment. âI mean, I think you caught the gist of it at the end there⌠Just a lot of that.â
You heard his loud exhale. âJust say the word and Iâll barge into that stupid van and kill him right now.â
The corner of your lip tugged into a small smile. âI just want you to stay here,â you admitted.Â
He nodded solemnly. Without another word, Tyler passed you something he had scrunched up in his fist. It was one of his T-shirtsâ like he knew you wanted to cover up without even having to say it. You took the shirtâ the thanks you wanted to offer him remained stuck in your throat, but Tyler didnât seem to mind.Â
Instead, he pretended to fiddle with the radio while you silently slipped the shirt on. Almost instantly, you felt like you could relax underneath the fabric of his clothes.Â
You curled your arms around yourself and tucked your knees to your chest. When Tyler asked if you were ready to head out, you nodded without another word.Â
âŚ
It was only seven when you arrived at the motel. Tyler went into the lobby to book the rooms while everyone else hung back. Boone and Lily were going on and on about using the pool later that night, but once youâd grabbed your bags from the truck, you sort of tuned it all out.Â
Tyler found you sitting on the curb once heâd passed out everyone elseâs room keys. He picked up your duffel from the ground before speaking for the first time in almost an hour.Â
âYou ready for bed?â
You nodded, offering him your best attempt at a convincing smile. Â
âCâmon,â he motioned his head to the left. âWeâre upstairs.â
Tyler led the way to your roomâ and even though this was a dingy motel, youâd never seen anything more perfect. The shades were dark, the AC worked, and there was a single, plush-looking queen bed in the middle of the room just screaming your name.Â
Tyler let you shower first. And when you emerged from the bathroom, all the sweat and grime finally washed from your skin, he was gone. But in his place, heâd laid out one of his T-shirts and a pair of his boxers on the bed for you to use. You almost teared up at the sight of just how thoughtful he was⌠Still reading between the lines.Â
Youâd spent the entire duration of your shower trying to convince yourself that what had happened earlier wasnât that big of a deal. Anderson was a jerkâ of course he was going to say some jerk-ish things. It shouldnât have been a surpriseâ and yet, you couldnât shake the discomfort you felt. It was like all the words heâd said to you had nestled underneath your skin and made a home for themselves.Â
In an attempt to shake the thoughts away, you quickly shrugged on Tylerâs clothes before sitting on the edge of the bed and wrapping your arms around yourself.Â
Almost as soon as you sat down, you heard the front door to the motel open up. Tyler stepped into the room carrying his own bag and a couple of water bottles he mustâve grabbed for the two of you.Â
âBetter?â he asked, handing you one.Â
You nodded and cracked it open. âMuch.â
Tyler sighed before joining you on the edge of the bed. âBaby, are you sure youâre okay?âÂ
âI-â you started and then stopped. Your hands were shaking, but you jumped when you felt Tylerâs hand close around yours, steadying them. His touch gave you just an ounce of courage to speak.Â
âIt wasnât even anything that badââ you admitted. âI meant it earlier, you heard the worst of it⌠I just, I don't know, I can't explain it. But everything he said made me feel so gross⌠and dirty, andâŚâ And, well, you didnât quite know what else. Words were hard to come by tonight.Â
âOh, baby,â Tyler exhaled. He released your hand to wind his arm around your shoulders, tugging you to his chest instead. Â
It wasnât until he shushed you that you even realized you were crying, but it came out in a rush. You clung to him, instantly impressed by his ability to just make you feel so much safer.Â
âIâm sorry,â you said.Â
âYou donât have to be sorry,â he assured you, only squeezing tighter.Â
âI donât know why this bothered me so muchââÂ
âBecause Anderson is an asshole and he intentionally said some gross shit to shake you up,â he answered for you. âYouâre allowed to be upset by that.âÂ
You exhaled against his shirt, and when you licked your lips, you tasted salt.Â
âIâm the sorry one,â he said.Â
âWhat?â you shook your head. âYou donât have to be sorryââ
âI should have been there.â
âYou were there,â you reminded him. âUnless I blacked out or something and I was really the one who punched him in the noseâŚâ
Tyler chuckled softly, you felt the vibration against your chestâ instantly soothing you.Â
You sighed after a moment, trying to decide if you wanted to share what was really bothering you. You bit the inside of your cheek. It was so tempting to keep it to yourself, but more tempting than that was the idea of finally feeling a little more at ease again after just telling Tyler the truth.Â
âI justââ you paused again. âIââÂ
âHey,â he said. You looked up at him briefly. âItâs just me.âÂ
That was the problemâ it was Tyler. And you didnât want Tyler thinking less of you because of what had happened.Â
âI didnât fight back,â you said quietly. âI just froze upâ it was like I couldnât even think straight. And he kept going and going, and I just stood thereâ taking it.â
Tyler ran his hand up and down your arm reassuringly. âWhat are you talking about?â
âIt just felt likeâŚâ your voice tapered off.Â
Tyler waited a moment before asking gently, âLike what?âÂ
âIt just felt like I didnât do anything to stop it,â you whispered so quietly you werenât even sure heâd heard you. âLike I let it happen.â
âBaby,â Tyler sighed. âBaby, no. Anderson is such a jackass, it wouldnât have mattered what you saidââ
âBut I could have told him to get the fuck away from meââ
âYou were just trying to keep yourself safe. Baby, we canât control how we react when weâre scared. Itâs fight or flightââ
âOr freeze,â you mumbled, embarrassed.Â
âOr freeze. Iâm pretty sure fawning is one too, now,â he said. âBut it doesnât matterâ what matters is you canât control that you froze. Just likeââ
âJust like you couldnât control punching him in the face?â you asked.Â
You glanced up just in time to see Tylerâs lips tug into a smile. âExactly,â he said.Â
âI just wish my fear reaction was a little more effective,â you pouted. âFreezing didnât do much.â
You let your eyes fall shut when Tyler tugged you closed to his chest. âI guess itâs a good thing you have a douchebag in shining armor to come help whenever you need it,â he smirked.Â
âThanks for protecting me,â you said quietly.Â
âIâll always protect you, you know that,â he said, planting a soft kiss on the top of your head.Â
You smiled against his chest. You really did know that. âAnd thanks for punching him in the nose.â
Tyler snorted. âAndersonâs had that coming for a long time.â
#twisters#twisters imagine#tyler owens imagine#tyler owens fic#tyler owens x reader#tyler owens x reader imagine#tyler owens x reader fic#twisters x reader fic#twisters fic
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Heterochromia.
Cregan Stark x wife!reader
SMUT 18+ PLEASE
Summary: the reader finally notices Cregan's eyes are two different colors. It enthralls her.
Warnings: sex, p in v, riding, kissing, talks of sex, the works, idk I didn't proofread so my b
A/n: this was based on an ask!
Masterlist
NSFW UNDER THE CUT
..............................................
Cregan held her to him as they both came down from their highs.
Sweat covered both of their foreheads, their hair greased with it. Cregan ran a hand across her forehead, gathering her hair and moving it behind her ear.
Cregan held himself up with one arm, the other caressing her face gently. His voice was soft. "You alright?"
She nodded, her eyes still glazed over and her breathing erratic.
His eyes studied her momentarily before deciding that was enough for him.Â
The two sat in a brief silence as they tried to gain their bearings, the only sound being their panting and the occasional kiss between them.Â
Finally, she broke the silence.
"Your eyes are beautiful."
It was so soft, he barely heard it. His brows furrowed as he looked down at her, the sheer blinds on the window doing nothing to keep out the light from outside, "Hmm?"
"Your eyes, Cregan." Her hand came up to his cheek. "They're quite lovely."
His hand on her face reached out and grabs her wrist, pulling her hand down to his lips where he kisses her palm. "You're far lovelier."
A sweet smile dons her face as Cregan continues to lay soft kisses against her palm.
"Perhaps a bath is in order?" She asked.
He pulls away from her hand finally, looking back down at her. "I do believe so."
She moves to sit up, hissing slightly at the burn inside her.
Cregan grabs her hips, keeping her down on the bed "What do you think you're doing?" He asks lowly.
"Getting⌠getting the servants?" She asked in confusion.
His eyes study her face before he shakes his head, "My lady wife will do no such thing."
"Cregan-"
A heavy kiss is laid on her lips, but before she has time to react, Cregan is already pushing himself off of the bed to stand.Â
He dresses his lower half, taking the occasional glance to her, who is watching him just as much.
He walks to the door, poking his head out for just a moment before returning to her with a damp cloth.
He pauses at the foot of the bed, his eyes staring at her frame lovingly, "You're the most beautiful creature I've laid eyes on."
She smiles, pushing herself up but Cregan quickly sits at the end of the bed and pushes her shoulder down.
"Let me take care of you."
She's quick to give in, never one to fight the man.Â
He pushes her thighs apart, a feeling she was not unfamiliar with, but a soft gasp left her lips when the cold cloth was brushed across the inside of her thighs.Â
Cregan's quick to apologize, "'m sorry, my love. Didn't think it was too cold."
But it doesn't stop him from cleaning her up. With every wipe of the cold cloth, he bent down and placed a warm kiss in its wake. When the cloth began to clean further up, she let out a soft groan, "Careful, Cregan, or we'll never get to that bath."
He grinned, sitting up and looking over at her, "That wouldn't be so terrible, would it?"
She let out a breathy laugh, "You're a wonder, Stark."
"I only aim to please you, my lady."
With her cleaned up, Cregan threw the cloth aside. He reached down to the floor, picking up his tunic. "I had the bath drawn in your chambers. I⌠I didn't want the servants to see you until you felt ready to be seen."
He moved to the side of the bed, reaching an arm under her back to help her sit up. "I do hope that was alright."
She nodded, placing a soft kiss on his lips, "Thank you."
He threw the tunic over his wife's head, the long fabric puddling around her waist.Â
He looked around, grabbing his cloak and pulling it over her shoulders.
She giggled, "What are you doing?"
Cregan then stretched both arms under her, picking her up off of the bed with ease.Â
One of her hands wrapped around his neck, the other pulling the cloak around her half naked form as she shrieked in surprise.
"I'm taking my beautiful wife to bathe. Is that alright?"
She grinned, "I suppose."
âŚ
Though insistent that she shouldn't strain her legs, Cregan couldn't tell her no when she straddled him in the tub.
At least in the water, he could support her hips.Â
"They really are," she insisted.
He threw his head back with a light laugh, "I doubt your words, my love."
Both of her hands cupped his face, "They are truly the most spectacular colors I've ever seen."
"My eyes are not. They are not even the same color," he argued.
"And you believe that to be a defect?" She scoffed.
He rolled his eyes playfully, "No. Only⌠unusual."
"There is much beauty in the unusual, you know." She said in a insistent tone.
Only then did the words truly hit him. Cregan had once been insecure of his eyes as a young boy. In the North, it was easy to hide things. Eyes were never one of them.
His fingers dug into her hips lightly, "You truly think so?"
She noticed the softness that had suddenly come into his voice. She tilted her head. "I do. Why else would I say such a thing to you?"
His shoulders shrugged, "Dunno. I guess I've just never believe that about myself."
She kissed his cheek, "Allow me to change that."
âŚ
The next day, the two spent the day in the courtyard. Cregan worked on his sword skills, while she sat nearby with her book.Â
When the spar between him and his colleague had finished, he tossed Ice into the dirt and walked to her.Â
Only when his shadow ran over the pages in her book did she notice him, prompting her to look up at the towering man.Â
"Did you win?"
A breathy chuckle left his lips, "My love, I always win."
He pulled the book from her hands and knelt down in front of her. "I'll be finished in just a bit. Any plans for the rest of the day?"
Sunlight entered the courtyard, an unusual event for the North to receive direct sun.Â
Cregan look up at the sky, squinting his eyes and looking back to her.
If he said something after that, she didn't hear it. She was so focused on the way the sun lit his eyes to brighter hues.Â
It was breathtaking.
"I do." Was all she said to his question.
âŚ
A few hours later, she was dragging a blindfolded Warden of the North behind her as she pulled him into her room.
She smiled when she saw the sunlight was still there. Though sunset, it lent a single golden beam through her window.Â
Perfect.
"Sit."Â
Cregan let out a scoff. "Where am I?"
"Sit down, Cregan."
He huffed, pulling his cloak out and sitting down on the cold floor.
The sun shine brightly through the blindfold, and he grimaced lightly.
He grunted when she began to pull at his clothes, stripping him of his cloak, and soon his tunic.
"My love-"
"-Trust me."
He continued to sit there, the sun keeping the cold chill of Winterfell away.
When her hands unbuttoned his trousers, he grabbed her wrist harshly, as if instinct, "Are you sure?"
She grinned, though it was still unseen by his eyes. "Very much so."
He hissed when her fingers began to pump up and down his length.Â
"Sit still, Cregan."
He hadn't even noticed his hips moving.Â
Soon, he felt her body heat near his.
She straddled him, sitting herself down on his length with a hiss of her own.
"Gods," he groaned.
When she felt adjusted to him, she yanked the blindfold off, the sun overwhelming for his eyes for a moment.Â
When they adjusted, he saw where he was, but more accurately, the bright smile that his wife wore.Â
"Pretty girl, what is this?"
"I want to see you fall apart for me. Your eyes. I want to see your eyes like this when I pleasure you."
Her hips rolled, making Cregan's hands grip her hips as he groaned.Â
When his eyes closed, she lightly tapped his cheek, "Open. I want to see you. All of you."
The brilliant blue and green in his eyes came to life, as did he.
Her breath hitched at the sight, prompting her to roll her hips again.
âŚ
Anytime the sun managed to visit Winterfell after that day, strangely enough, no one would see the Lord and Lady Stark.Â
They were busy during those times, it seemed.
âŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚ..
Taglist: @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne
#fanfiction#game of thrones x reader#house of the dragon fanfiction#cregan stark x you#game of thrones imagine#game of thrones x y/n#cregan stark x y/n#cregan stark x reader#game of thrones fanfiction#cregan x reader#cregan stark smut#cregan stark fanfic#hotd fanfic#house of the dragon fanfic#hotd fanfiction#cregan stark imagine
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ok shy bau reader and the team finally managed to get her to come a rossi dinner party so she can meet the rest of the team families that she hasnât met yet, maybe after her first date with hitch and the team realized quickly she softened very fast with the kids and jack and her just seemed to click really fast and jack had her talking more than any of the team has so far⌠hotch is star eyes
hotch x shy!bau!reader \\ Dinner and Delights
Warnings: brief mention/allusions to Christianity. Otherwise, fluff! More insight into what Aaron is thinking :) I got very carried away, I hope you enjoy <3
"Woah hot stuff, where are you going so fast?" Morgan intercepts you with an arm around your shoulder as you attempt to slip out of the BAU unnoticed. "Hopefully to get ready for our big dinner plans?"
It's not that you don't want to go to one of Rossi's famous dinner parties, you're just afraid that your sub-par social skills would be noticeable by tenfold in a more casual environment.
At work, you can hide your quietness by talking about the psychology of the unsub, your specialty as a licensed psychologist. You can pretend you're not hiding in your shell when the team is all laughing and talking about personal lives by quietly listening while pretending to read your maps and journals. You can observe them and spend time with them, because you do truly love them all at this point, without feeling bad that you prefer to listen over talk.
And that's really it - you prefer to listen to them. You would say you've all but warmed up to all of them. You like Morgan's teasing, Emily's stories, Reid's rambling, Rossi's sarcasm, and Hotch's...
Everything, but the thought snaps you back to the present before you can dwell on memories of a sweet date in a dark restaurant.
"Of course," you succeed, nodding and sending him a tight-lipped smile.
"Hey," he slows you down and stops in the hallway, turning you to face him gently before lifting his hands in a placating gesture as if you were an animal he expects to run. "You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with but I promise none of us are trying to lead our little lamb to slaughter. We know you're quiet," the admission embarrasses you and makes you feel guilty pleasant that he sounds so gentle about it, "and nobody minds, I think it's cute and I think the rest are just happy our other genius isn't as vocal as Reid."
Your nose scrunches at the small dig and you open your mouth to protest at putting Reid down to lift you up.
"And look at that! Another thing we all love - you're quiet but won't let anyone say anything about the other behind their back. You're a good person, we all just want to spend some less-intense time with you. So, go home and doll yourself up, and get ready to see Hotch wine tipsy. We all know that's your main motivator." Morgan winks at you and moves quickly down the hall and away from you, laughing, before you can protest.
He's not wrong, though, and you shake your head as you move toward the elevator.
You end up on Rossi's doorstep, choking the neck of a bottle of expensive wine between two sweaty palms. Your heart is in your throat, nerves humming in anticipation.
Your team cares about you. Nobody expects you to be anything you're not. Gentle affirmations meant to soothe over your skin in gently lapping waves erupt into steam; like water hitting lava rock. You're too tense, too worried about not saying enough or too much; saying the wrong thing or saying the right thing only once and never living up to the expectation of repeated occurrences.
"Hey," Emily says from behind you. You turn to see her jogging up to stand beside you, brushing off her pants and adjusting her jacket. "You brought wine!" She cheers happily, reaching past you to turn the nob and open the door.
She gestures you inside, making no comment about your obvious hesitance. With her by your side, your nerves are calmed. Aside from Aaron, she's the easiest for you to be around. You don't feel any expectations with Emily. She doesn't talk too much or too little, doesn't push, doesn't ever send a pitying look when you opt out of activities outside of work.
"Château Lafite," you say to her, lifting the wine and shaking it gently in the air as you walk inside.
"Oh! Fancy wine."
"Wine?" Rossi asks, rounding a corner. He's dressed slightly more casually in a soft sweater and jeans, drying his hands off with a pristine dish towel. "The more the merrier, bring it in here."
You follow his gesture back into the kitchen, leaving Emily to go to what you presume is the living or dining area.
"Where did you find this?" Rossi asks, taking the wine from you to examine it and letting out a low whistle as he appreciates it.
"Just my local winery," you say, neglecting to admit that you go there often enough that the owner leaves the nicer stuff behind the counter for you.
Lonely nights crave wine, twisting them into lovely things you can appreciate. You enjoy your own company after years of quietly observing others. You've learned how to observe yourself, too, after all of these years.
And, even though you don't quite realize it, the self-awareness carries like confidence. That's what Aaron sees in you: observant eyes darting across a room and noticing everything, understanding flickering before anyone else catches a cue, deft movements across the paper while taking notes, and swift motions always with a purpose.
It's what he sees now, hands in the pockets of his dark jeans while he leans in the doorway of Rossi's kitchen, watching you. How could he not? You're a lovely creature, always begging for his eyes to settle on you for another second, and then another.
He knows the moment you realize he's in the room, minutes before Rossi. You stand straighter, tilt your chin lower, and are aware far before you tilt your head to the side to send him a soft smile. He returns it before Rossi can catch him. It's a warmth he wants to reserve for you.
"Dave," he interrupts the other man's monologuing about the wine he's sure you already know all about, "Jack would like to know if he and Spencer can use your chess set when he gets here?"
"Of course, I'll get it from my study." Rossi leaves, passing you the wine and gesturing to the opener.
Aaron steps in before you can start the process of opening the wine. He doesn't quite know why, but he wants to do it for you. He finds himself wanting that more and more recently: to do simple tasks for the sole purpose of you not having to do them. Opening doors and pulling out chairs are simple gestures that he did with Hayley, but he wants to do sillier, smaller, things, too. Straighten the pens on your desk back into their cup, reorganize the files on your desktop, untangle the wires of the headphones he really should reprimand you for using at your desk, open a damn bottle of wine he can't pronounce the name of but that he heard you say so gently to Emily as you walked in.
"Jack's here?" You ask, handing him the wine and crossing your arms over your chest as you lean back against the counter to watch him work.
He relishes how your eyes focus on his arms, pupils dilating, as his muscles work under his thin henley.
"Yes, I have him this weekend and he likes to spend time with Reid and Garcia."
He has to step closer to reach above you to get the wine glasses. He could ask you to step aside, tuck his hand against your waist to move you himself, or simply walk into the next room to grab the glasses sitting on the table. But, instead, he tucks one foot in between yours, puts one hand on the back of your head to guard it from the cabinet, and opens it to find the nicer crystal there.
Your breath hitches across his neck and he remembers the chaste kisses he's given you before. Nothing serious, nothing has been yet because he's waiting for you to lead him into that, but tantalizing nonetheless. He steps back to pour the wine, standing closer to you than he started.
A little for you, passed gently, and then a little for him. Dave could pour his own glass.
You take the wine and sip it slowly, tongue darting out to taste before you sip. He's reminded of communion as a child. The blood of christ, sacred, something to be tasted but not meant to satiate. Reverence in a sip, devotion in a small act.
He wants to give you the same thing. The desire hits him in the sternum, suddenly, leaving him winded as he watches you lower the glass. Your eyes are locked on his, you haven't seemed as hesitant about holding his gaze recently - something that makes him melt - and he wonders if you can feel how he wants to take care of you. How he wants to show you the same force that water uses to carve canyons. Persistence and pressure, time and care. He's willing to take his time, he's filled with the same patience as everything all together in nature. He's a rabbit perched on its hind legs, sniffing the wind for safety before darting forward; the bird hung in flight between beats of wings, the whisper of wind carrying small seeds miles away to wait and watch the growth. Wait, wait, wait, however long it takes, he's there. For you.
It's a strong feeling to fully realize in David Rossi's kitchen, but he's grateful for it, anyway.
"It's good," you comment softly, eyes smiling.
"Is it?" He asks, setting his glass down and retaking his spot nearer to you. He misses your warmth. "Can I?" He asks, brushing his fingers across your jugular before cupping your cheek.
"Taste the wine?" You tease, eyes flickering to his glass. The gentle jest pulls a chuckle from his chest. Another thing you've become more comfortable doing around him. His blood and bones sing at how familiar you can be with him.
"Yes," he says in a breath, dipping his head down to brush his lips against yours.
And you're reciprocating - you've always reciprocated, enthusiastically, just never in the pressing way you are now. You set down your own glass to hold his arms in both of your hands. Fingers dig into his arm as you sigh and open your mouth, new lands to explore, tilting your head back to grant him full access.
"Daddy?" Jack asks and Aaron pulls away, a man parched and staring at an oasis in the middle of a desert, before Jack can round the corner. He doesn't go far, though, hand traveling down to the small of your back as he turns.
"Jack?" Aaron replies, waiting for him to come around the corner.
"Hello," Jack says, stopping in the doorway and looking up at you with wide eyes.
You've met him a few times before, always in passing, but you still smile warmly and wave at him.
"Hi, Jack."
"Do you know how to play chess?" Jacks asks. Aaron smiles at the eagerness on his son's face.
"Yes, I do. Would you like to play?"
"Yes please!" Jack jumps forward to grab your hand, pulling you into the living room before you can react.
You go easily, though, following him with a gentle laugh that warms the coldest parts of him. Pieces of him he doesn't think have seen the light in years brighten at the sound. He's heard you laugh before but something about the sight of you laughing because of Jack illuminates needs that he didn't even know he had. Needs you're meeting before he can feel the yawning desire of them.
He follows, unable to resist the desire to see you two interact over and over again. You're setting up the board, listening to Jack chatter on, nodding intently.
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