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aemondsbabe · 11 months ago

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The Gods and Everyone

summary: you and aemond sorely overestimate how much time you have before a small council meeting, which leaves the two of you in quite a scandalous predicament

pairing: aemond targaryen x reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, cockwarming, public sex, slight breeding kink, fingering, aemond being an absolute menace, dirty talk, aegon being a little shit but what else is new, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 5.6k

a/n: based on an anon request for cockwarming! i hope you're still with me and that you enjoy this, friend! sorry it took me so long to get to it!

creds to @bbygirl-aemond for the gif!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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You watch, concerned, as your husband flits around the Small Council chamber, your eyes following his lithe form as he checks and re-checks the parchment with notes he had written for himself earlier that morning – you’d awoken in the pale hour just before sunrise to see him already hunched over the small desk in your chambers, scribbling away furiously with a quill, his pale hair glowing in the dim light of the candle next to him. All of your attempts to lure him back into bed with you had fallen on deaf ears.

“You know you needn't do all this,” you point out, perched against the Small Council table, your eyes tracking him as he paces back and forth across the space, going over his notes for the upteenth time, “Your only job is to be on time like everyone else, husband.”

“Things will improve with time,” he rushes out, fixing you with a pointed look, “Hardly two moons have passed since Viserys…” He pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose, “The least I can do is ease this transition for Aegon and mother.”

“My love, it is a transition for us all,” you soothe, striding to him and gently taking his hand. His fingers, rough from all his years of training with swords and spears, instantly wrap around your own as he lets out a tired sigh, “You included. Aegon named you Master of War, not master of everything.”

“I know,” Aemond murmurs, eye softening as his gaze traces over you, “I find it hard to be still when there is so much chaos – Dorne has yet to be subdued and there are whispers of rebellion from the North. There is so much still to be accounted for.”

“I understand,” you reassure him, your fingers threading through his long, silvery hair, lips quirking into a smile as the gesture makes his eye flutter closed for a second. “But all this stress cannot be good for you, husband,” you sigh, gazing up at him with a mournful smile, “You need rest and calm and…and I need you.” You nearly whisper, blush creeping across your cheeks as Aemond’s eye darkens.

“Sweetling—“ He starts with a sigh.

“Aemond, please,” you cut him off, wrapping your arms around his trim waist as you lay your head against his chest, his heart thumping in your ear, “I cannot bear to hear another excuse, I feel as if you have been away for weeks.”

He’s quiet for a moment, wrapping his long, lean arms tightly around you as he rests his chin on your head, your breaths the only sound in the stony chamber. “I’m sorry,” he finally whispers, smoothing a hand up and down your back, “I miss you too, my sweet girl.”

You hum, leaning further into his embrace after going without it for so long, “You haven’t touched me in weeks.” You say quietly, his touch already igniting a spark in the pit of your stomach.

“Perhaps tonight,” his breath is warm against the top of your head as he speaks into your hair, “I will try to cut my meeting with–”

“You’ve been saying that for weeks,” you cut him off once more with a sigh, pulling back to look up at him, “I can’t take anymore, my love, I need to feel you.” You whine, nearly petulant like a spoiled child. If it were any other time, if you were any less desperate, you’d be embarrassed at your behavior. Right now, though, you could not find it within yourself to care as you stared into your husband’s darkened eye, finally feeling the passion you had gone so many weeks without.

Aemond chuckles as he looks down at you, conflicted between feeling pleased to see you reduced to such a state while also feeling a similar fire in his own belly. “Sweetling, the meeting–”

“Is not due to start for at least another hour!” You interrupt, determined to persuade him to this. Taking you in various parts of the Keep was not new to him, both of you had plenty of memories from your courtship and first year of marriage of rutting together in all sorts of nooks and crannies of the old castle.

Aemond gazes at you for a long moment, an unreadable expression on his face, though his eye remains dark with desire. After a second, he nods to himself almost imperceptibly, seeming to come to some decision you weren’t privy to. Finally, finally his lips descend upon yours as he sweeps you into an all-consuming kiss, his arms tightening around your waist as he pulls you to him, groaning lowly in his throat as he licks into your mouth. You shiver in his grasp, finally tasting him properly after so long as you whimper and whine into his mouth.

“Aemond,” you gasp as you finally part from him, mewling as he immediately trails kisses down your jaw, “What–”

“Seems I can never deny you for very long, sweetling,” he huffs, halfway laughing as he guides you over to the large table, pulling you up by the waist until you’re sitting on the cool stone table, your legs bracketing his trim waist, “I’ve missed you too, my love.” He confesses, sweeping a lock of hair from your shoulder before trailing kisses up across your neck and jaw, one hand already desperately pulling up the bottom of your gown.

You huff out small moans and whimpers, relishing his warm touch. His nimble fingers finally manage to undo the knot at the front of your smallclothes and he tugs them down quickly, leaving you bare for him under your skirts as they fall to a pile on the floor just beside his chair at the table.

“Husband,” you pant, tugging at the drawstrings at the top of his trousers, “Please, please do not make me beg today, I–” Your train of thought is cut off as a moan, louder than it should be given the location, tears itself from your throat when you feel his long fingers ghost over your center.

“Shh, darling,” Aemond grins as he feels your arousal immediately coat his fingers, a pleased hum emanating from deep in his chest as he feels it already coating the insides of your thighs as well, “I don’t have the patience to restrain myself today, sweet one,” he mutters, watching your face carefully as he spreads your folds and teases your entrance with a finger before carefully sliding it in, groaning with satisfaction at the feel of your walls already tightly clamping down on it, “Nor the time.” He adds with a slight smirk, pale hair cascading like a curtain down his shoulders as he leans his forehead against yours.

“Oh, Gods,” you whimper, eyes fluttering shut as your hands white knuckle the dark leather of his tunic, too uncoordinated with lust to manage the ties on his pants, “M-My love, more please!” You whisper, angling your hips to try and catch another of his fingers.

You hear him chuckle above you before he pulls his finger from you, smirking as you whine pitifully at the loss. Before you have a chance to protest, he quickly undoes his trousers, not bothering to pull them down at all and opting to merely loosen the laces at the front enough to free his cock. Your eyes widen as you watch his hand stroke over his length momentarily, taking in the way it already throbs in his grasp, the head flushed and leaking from merely having you in his hands once more.

“Ready, sweetling?” He asks, gently tilting your chin up as he captures your lips in a sweet kiss, his other hand positioning his length at your entrance.

You part from him and nod eagerly, widening your legs and angling your hips, “I’ve been ready for you for weeks, Aemond.”

He smiles softly, pressing one more kiss against your neck before finally pressing into you, growling as he sinks into your slick heat. “Seven,” he grunts, cradling the back of your head with one hand as his other slinks down to grab at your hip, “You feel better every time, sweetling.”

You moan hotly against his shoulder, sinking your teeth into the thick leather of the shoulder of his tunic in an attempt to quiet yourself. Your eyes squeeze shut at the feel of him sliding into you, filling you to the brim perfectly. You’ve been without him for so long that he feels enormous, your walls aching as he stretches you out, pressing in and in until he’s finally seated fully within you.

Without another word, Aemond started thrusting into you, slow at first but quickly picking up the pace with every firm roll of his hips into you. After only a moment, he’s already grunting like a madman into your ear, holding you to him even as you cling tightly to his shoulders yourself, your legs wrapped loosely around his waist.

You feel a fire building in your belly at a breakneck pace as he ruts into you, the hand on your hip no doubt leaving fingerprint bruises across your skin, even through the fabric of your gown. If the low groans from your husband are any indication, he isn’t doing much better. He threads his fingers through your hair, pulling you into a desperate kiss, teeth and tongues clashing together frantically as if the two of you are trying to fall into each other, to become one.

“My love, I—,” he pants against your lips, jerking your head back by the grip he has on your locks. His eye meets yours, the light lilac almost entirely eclipsed by his pupil as he stares at you hungrily, “It’s been so long, I don’t know how long I can last.”

His breath is warm as it fans over your lips and you nod dazedly, zings of pleasure radiating up your spine from Aemond’s grip in your hair only adding to the warmth quickly threatening to overtake you. “It’s okay,” you swallow thickly, eyes already rolling back with pleasure, “I can’t either.”

Nodding in return, he picks up the pace, the head of his cock rutting against the most sensitive spot within you hard enough to make you see stars. He hasn’t even needed to tease your pearl and you’re already nearly unraveling as Aemond mumbles nearly incoherent praises, the hand on your hip traveling lower, nearly cupping your ass.

Just as you’re about to warn him of your inevitable release, muffled voices sound from behind the thick wooden doors that lead into the Small Council chambers. Aemond slows within you as both of your heads swivel to the doors — just in time to hear the guards stationed outside begin to tug them open.

You freeze, eyes widening as the doors open, seemingly in slow motion. Thankfully, your husband moves quickly enough for the both of you, nimbly scooping you into his arms before hastily dropping down into his chair, hurriedly scooching it forward until both of your laps are hidden under the stone surface of the table, before kicking your smallclothes under the table at the last second.

Your head whips around to face Aemond and you give him a panicked, wide-eyed look just as people start filing into the room, unaware that you’re still being split open by your husband’s length. One hand, still on your hip, tightens, silently commanding you to be still as his lilac eye pleads the same; his other hand is already poised on the table, relaxed against the cool surface as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“Yes, yes, we must certainly ask him once he’s back in King’s Landing,” Lord Tyland’s voice fills the chamber as he walks in, engaged in a conversation about something or other with Lord Corlys, the two sharing a laugh before finally taking notice of you and Aemond, “Prince, princess.” Tyland bows his head at the two of you with Corlys following soon after.

You sit frozen atop your husband, gazing blankly at the two men without a word. Thankfully, Aemond has the presence of mind to bow his head politely, though he stays quiet. As they walk further into the room, you can only see Tyland and Corlys from the corner of your eye but you don’t miss the odd look they share, silently asking each other why you were present and certainly why you were sitting on Aemond’s lap. Blood rushes to your head so quickly you feel lightheaded, your cheeks stinging as a harsh blush quickly appears on your face from their attention.

Maester Orwyle files through the doorway next, doing a double take at you and Aemond before bowing his head, a gesture that you thankfully remember to return this time as you stiffly nod your head. Thankfully, the older man simply takes a seat at his place at the table without any comment, though you can hear the two other men speaking quietly in the corner of the room, throwing glances your way as they do.

Your walls tighten around Aemond’s length as the rest of you tenses up when Larys creeps in, leaning against his cane as he moves; Aemond thighs tense underneath you as you hear him suck in a breath, only slightly more hasty than normal — the hand in your hip tightens, warning you to keep it together.

“Prince Aemond, princess,” Larys nods as he approaches the table, “To what do we owe the pleasure of such… intriguing company?” He questions, tilting his head as he narrows his eyes ever so slightly, his eyes bouncing between you and Aemond.

Your head spins as you stare straight ahead, willing yourself to respond, to say anything, to appear somehow normal. Yet, nothing comes out as your center throbs uselessly around Aemond, your head cloudy with need as your eyes stare ahead blankly, though registering just enough to pick up on the small smirk playing at the corners of Larys’s lips.

“My wife appears to have taken ill this morning,” Aemond drawls from over your shoulder while affectionately petting your waist, a gesture entirely for show, a lie to placate the men in the room, but it comforts you nonetheless. He clears his throat before continuing, the only tell thus far that your warmth around him is affecting him at all, “My presence brings her great comfort, I see no reason why she should be without it.”

“I see,” Larys hums in response, his dark eyes sweeping over your form, sparkling ominously as if he knows the truth, “What shame, let us hope the Gods grant you reprieve from this…illness soon, princess.”

“Yes!” You finally squeak, snapping back to attention as Aemond just barely squeezes your side, “Yes, let’s hope so. Thank you, Lord Larys.” You breathe, managing a smile small.

You shift on your husband’s lap and immediately you know you’ve made a mistake as the head of his cock prods directly into that overly sensitive patch within you, nearly making you topple over on the spot as a small groan escapes you. Blessedly, you have enough presence of mind to cover it up with a cough, sparks jolting down your back as Aemond presses a soft kiss to your cheek, one of his hands coming up to rub soothing circles against the back of your shoulder.

“There, there, sweetling,” he says softly, again, entirely for show as you put on your best performance, “Once the meeting is over, we will have the servants make some tea for you, that will help with that cough.” Even if it was for show, you couldn’t help but shiver at Aemond’s low voice, at how he’s being so soft and caring with you. That, combined with the incessant prodding to your sweet spot, has you throbbing around him, your heart hammering in your chest. You can hear Aemond suck in another barely there gasp behind you, a groan low enough to remain silent rumbling against your back while at the same time his hand almost imperceptibly twitches on the table; his composure makes you feel all the more lightheaded, blushing somehow deeper at the fact that he’s taking you apart this easily without so much as moving a muscle. Your thighs trembled atop his lap, the insides already sticky with your arousal as you struggled to stay still, silently thanking the Gods that at least your laps were hidden.

“I’m sorry,” Corlys began, striding over from his spot in the corner with a sheepish look, “I really feel I must speak up, this is really most unusual.” He finishes through an awkward laugh, Tyland following closely behind him as they saddle up to the table.

“What is most unusual?” Alicent asks, entering the Small Council chambers with Otto, followed closely after by Aegon and Ser Criston. Her eyes sweep over the room, pausing when she sees you, though she quickly corrects herself with a soft smile. “Ah, my dear,” she nods hello to the various men in the room before sitting at the table, “May I ask why your wife joins us, Aemond?” She peers at him curiously, throwing a nervous glance at Aegon who is smirking far too much for her liking as he slinks up to the table.

“It seems the princess has fallen ill, your grace,” Larys answers quickly, slyly smiling as he turns to face the dowager queen, “Prince Aemond insisted she stay so that she may be…comforted.” You quickly look away from him as his eyes meet yours once again, piercing through you as though he can see directly through your gown.

“Yes, which is most odd,” Tyland butted in, throwing glances between you, Aemond, Alicent, and Aegon, “She is not a member of the council, she should not be present. Surely there is some way the princess could be comforted that does not involve being privy to government matters.”

Aemond stays silent behind you, glaring daggers at Aegon over your shoulder, watching carefully as he traipses over to the table and stands at its head, his eyes never straying from his brother’s as they stare one another down. The other members, some reluctantly, take their places at the table as well, each of them standing so long as Aegon does, though you and Aemond remain seated; your eyes never stray from the marbled surface of the table.

“Aemond, please,” Otto sighs from his place next to you, “The least you and the princess could do is stand for–”

“I see him everyday,” Aegon interjects, breaking eye contact with your husband as he rolls his eyes, “I don’t give a shit if the fool stands.”

Your eyes dart up at that, shocked that Aegon isn’t taking the chance to thoroughly humiliate Aemond by putting him on the spot. The king’s violet eyes meet yours, sparkling with a mischief that makes your center flutter around your husband’s length – Aegon’s smirk grows as if he knows exactly what just happened. A thin sheen of sweat makes you feel clammy as Aemond’s cock twitches inside of you, pushing him against your sweet spot all the more.

“Very well,” Alicent swiftly cuts in, determined to keep the peace, “Shall we get st–”

“Are we really going to allow for the presence of–” Corlys starts, only to be viciously cut off.

“She stays,” Aegon says flatly, shooting a bored look at the man, “If anyone has an issue with the princess’s presence they may take their leave.” His violet eyes pass over the room, almost daring anyone to move. Everyone remains still, though you can feel Tyland and Corlys glaring at the side of your head, and after a moment, Aegon takes his seat followed by everyone else; blessedly, the meeting finally begins.

The Small Council meeting drones on and on, with various conversations of coin and ships, concerns abroad in Essos, and other diplomatic matters that mean nothing to you. In the back of your mind, you know it’s hardly been any time at all but it feels like an eternity has passed with Aemond’s hard length still piercing into you, twitching against your pulsing walls every so often. A part of you wonders if he does it on purpose, gives you just enough stimulation to cruelly tease you before going stock still once more.

The small, unnoticeable to everyone but you, hitches of his breath tell you otherwise and deep down, you know he’s just as affected as you, no doubt steadily leaking into you, though you dare not consider the thought for very long.

“Aemond,” your breath catches in your throat as Otto directs his attention to your husband, everyone else's gaze quickly following, “Any further communications from Dorne?”

Behind you, your husband clears his throat and you feel him shift beneath you, sitting up slightly straighter in his seat, both hands now clasping your waist to keep you steady on top of him. “Negotiations with the Dornish remain stagnant,” he begins as you practically wilt on his lap, the added attention from the council members making the knot in your belly tighten in a way you shudder to consider, “We received a raven from Prince Qoren some days ago rejecting any dealings with the crown, no matter the amount of coin we have to offer.” He finishes, pointedly looking at Tyland, who proceeds to butt in.

As soon as the attention shifts off of the two of you, it’s like the air around Aemond changes, becoming charged all of a sudden as you feel his chest heave against your back. At the other end of the table, Tyland begins to raise his voice, debating hotly with Corlys and Otto, drawing the attention of everyone else to them.

“Do you think you can be still?” Aemond whispers, his breath hot against your ear although his voice is barely audible even to you. He must sense you freeze on his lap as the hand on your hip begins to move slowly, dragging your skirts up your legs until his hand can slip underneath them, making you tremble as he grips the soft skin of your thigh, “Tighten around my cock if you can be still.”

Against your better judgment, you do as he says, tensing as you clench your walls around him; his only reply is a low growl against your back. He stays still for a moment, trying with all of his might to appear as if he’s taking great interest in the ongoing argument taking place.

Finally, once he’s positive everyone is too preoccupied arguing over coin to pay attention to either of you, his deft fingers slip through your folds before finally twirling against your aching pearl.

You have to bite harshly at the inside of your cheek to keep quiet, trying to keep your breathing steady as you focus on not moving even though you so badly want to rut your hips against his fingers as they rub against you.

Aemond swallows thickly behind you as he slowly circles his fingers, careful to keep his pace light and steady to not stir up any slick sounds from your wet cunt, though he longs to hear them.

Your elbows rest against the top of the table, your hands clasped tightly in front of you. The conversation around you seems to shift as Otto begins prattling on about some Tyrell woman finally being with child. Aemond’s fingers suddenly pinch at your sensitive bud and a gasp tumbles past your lips before you can stop it, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Is everything alright, princess?” Alicent questions from across the table, her dark eyes narrowed with concern.

You nod quickly, coughing to conceal a moan as you open your mouth to answer her, “Y-Yes, I’m sorry,” you apologize with a weak smile, “I’m just so pleased for the Tyrells, what a j-joyous time this must be for them.” You say quickly, stumbling over the words as your core clenches tightly around your husband’s cock, his small touches driving you steadily to your peak despite the circumstances.

Alicent gives you a curious look before quickly collecting herself, “Yes, I’m sure the family is quite thankful, children are always such a blessing,” she smiles politely before turning back to her father, “Please, continue.”

Otto’s voice hardly reaches your ears as he picks up where he left off, though you don’t miss the horribly put out looks you garner from Tyland and Corlys.

Aemond’s fingers just barely speed up as they swirl over your bud, though the small change is enough to drive you wild and you can feel the way his chest heaves against your back as your walls twitch around his length, threatening to milk his cock dry without him having to move an inch.

The heat that has slowly been building within you finally begins to bubble over and your husband’s fingers show no signs of stopping as he pushes you closer and closer to your breaking point. The hand of his that has been resting idly on the table top comes over to casually rest against your clenched hands and rubs soothingly up and down your forearm, Aemond’s silent way of telling you he knows you’re close.

Your eyes flick around the room as you feel your peak threatening to spill over you, frantically checking for any onlookers at the last possible second. You nearly jump out of your skin as your eyes finally land on Aegon, only to find him already staring at you, an amused smirk plastered across his face as he studies you.

Aemond chooses that exact second to pinch at your pearl again and the small touch is your undoing. Your teeth bite down firmly on your tongue as your walls pulse rhythmically around your husband’s leaking cock, your eyes still locked on Aegon’s violet ones, now darkened with lust.

Your muscles tense up as you peak helplessly, waves of pleasure lighting up every nerve ending within you. Somehow, you find it within yourself to remain quiet and still on Aemond’s lap as your eyes finally flick away from his older brother’s and you gaze, apparently absentmindedly, at some point on the wall on the opposite side of the room as your high subsides.

Thankfully, Aemond takes pity on you and slips his hand away, his wet fingers resting gently in your bare thigh, still underneath your gown.

You slowly come down from your high as the Small Council winds down, Aegon and Otto quickly discussing a few final points before the king formally adjourns the meeting. Tyland and Corlys practically bolt from their chairs, quickly bowing before they exit as they mumble between themselves, no doubt about the displeasure of your presence.

Otto and Maester Orwyle take their leave soon after, each bowing politely. Aegon busies himself at the head of the table, leaning back in his chair as he lazily sips from his wine cup, the gleam in his eyes making you shiver.

Across the room, Alicent and Larys whisper between themselves. Strangely, your mother-in-law blushes, shaking her head suddenly and mumbling a quiet, “Not here,” before glancing around the room.

Larys merely shrugs, turning to you as he shuffles from the room, “Do get better soon, princess.” He says with a feeble bow, although the look on his face makes you blush heavily.

At that, Alicent turns to Aegon, “Would you care to come see the children with me?”

“Go on,” he dismisses her before nodding toward you and Aemond, “I wish to have a word with my brother.” He catches your eye with a quick wink.

“Of course,” Alicent mutters, glancing curiously between the three of you, “I’ll ask the maids to bring some tea to your chambers this evening, princess. They make a wonderful lemon one that always seems to lift my spirits.” She says with a kind smile, coming around to place a comforting hand on your shoulder before she too heads to the door.

“Thank you!” You breathily call after her, voice squeaking at the end as Aemond shuffles impatiently beneath you, his cock still prodding against your sensitive walls.

Aegon chuckles darkly as soon as the doors close once more, standing from his chair with a wide smirk. “I must say, I’m impressed,” he taunts, eyes glinting as he looks between you and his brother, “I didn’t think either of you had that much gaul in you.”

“What exactly are you tittering about now?” Aemond asks lowly behind you, his voice rough and choppy as his patience clearly wears thin.

Sniggering, Aegon saunters around to stand beside you, violet eyes scanning over your laps still concealed under the table, “You’ve had your cock in her the whole time, have you not?” He teases, laughing harder still as Aemond merely hums in response, “Come brother, you should be proud of yourself,” he clasps a hand over your husband's shoulder, “She was nearly falling apart when she peaked.” He comments with a final wink as he ambles to the door, stopping to throw one last amused look over his shoulder, “You might want to do something about that bite mark on your shoulder.” He says casually before slamming the doors closed behind him.

At his comment, you whirl around and your eyes grow wide as you spy a clear impression of your teeth marks in the leather of Aemond’s tunic, on his shoulder where you’d bitten down earlier. Your cheeks heat up at the thought of it being there throughout the entire meeting.

You don’t have long to dwell on the thought though as your husband roughly pushes you from his lap until you’re bent over the table, cheek pressed to the cool stone surface. “Seven!” You sequel as he unceremoniously shoves his cock back inside you, his hips pumping wildly as his hands grasp at your waist harshly, no doubt leaving bruises.

“Fucking finally,” he grunts, eyeing the way his cock disappears into your slick heat as he bunches your gown up over your ass, “‘M not gonna last.” He warns lowly, already panting with the speed of his thrusts.

Your head spins once again as his cock moves within you, his pace nearly bruising. Your teeth sink into the skin of your forearm as you desperately try to keep quiet, another peak already welling up within you.

Aemond growls and quickly threads the fingers of one hand through your hair, making you whine loudly as he pulls your head back until his chest is once again pressed against you, his other hand coming to rub against your abused pearl once more.

“Aemond!” You moan, shaking your head in his grasp, one hand braced against the table as the other grabs at his forearm, feeling his muscles twitch as his fingers swirl against your center, “P-Please, I cannot keep myself quiet, I know I can’t—“ You start babbling.

“Let them fucking hear,” he growls, eye squeezing shut as he feels his stones tightening up, “The whole keep can listen for all I fucking care, I won’t be stopping this time.”

Your eyes roll back in your head at his words, never having heard him sound this possessed and overcome with pleasure before. After only a few more thrusts, you feel your walls twitch once more, a loud gasp rattling through your chest, “H-Husband, I’m—!”

“That’s it,” Aemond groans, redoubling his efforts against your pearl as he continues to rut into you at a nearly inhuman pace. “Peak, sweetling,” he commands, his voice low and raspy in your ear, “Peak while I breed your precious cunt.”

His words nearly take your breath away and you whine loudly as another high washes over you, your walls milking your husband’s cock as they clench and pulse against it.

Behind you, Aemond groans lowly, grunting as his cock twitches strongly inside you, his thick seed flooding into your heat as he finally, finally peaks, the pleasure of it making him dizzy as he leans against your back, forehead pressed between your shoulder blades.

The two of you are quiet for a moment, your tired pants the only sounds in the chambers. Finally, Aemond untangles his fingers from your hair, both of his hands coming to rest against the cool table as he finally pulls his cock from your center, soothing you with soft shushes when you whine, the emptiness in your core such a foreign feeling after being filled for so long.

He sinks into his chair once more and pulls you with him, wrapping a protective arm around your waist as you rest your head on his shoulder. Once your breathing is steady, you pick your head up, a displeased groan tumbling from your throat as you see your bite mark more clearly up close, a finger coming up to trace over the intents in the black leather.

“I’ll need to send this to the seamstress for repairs,” you whisper with an apologetic sigh, “I believe this is beyond my ability to fix.”

Aemond chuckles beneath you, lilac eye gleaming with pride as he clasps a hand over yours as it still rests on his shoulder, “Don’t trouble yourself with it, my love.”

“What?” You question, smiling despite the way you tilt your head in confusion, “Aemond, I cannot fix it myself and I’m afraid the mark will not simply go away—,”

“You misunderstand me, sweetling,” he says, smiling as he looks down at you, “I intend to keep it as a mark of great pride. I shall wear it as a trophy for all to see.” He explains with a teasing laugh.

You playfully smack a hand against his chest, which only makes him laugh harder, “You can’t be serious!” You admonish with a wide smile.

“Why? I simply wish to remember this day,” he chuckles, “The day I made my sweet wife peak in front of the Gods and everyone.”

“Aemond!” You cannot help the surprised laugh that leaves you, “You’re as disgusting as your brother!”

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1800-fight-me · 26 days ago

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Future

Logan Howlett x Female!Reader Rating: E (Explicit-MINORS DO NOT INTERACT) Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, explicit PiV sex as well as oral sex (M&F receiving), breeding kink, and daddy kink (oof) Word count: A little over 8.3k Synopsis: Logan goes back to the past in an attempt to save the world, but more importantly- you. (Set in X-Men Days of Future Past and switches between Logan and Reader's POV) Author’s note: Something about Logan makes me absolutely insane to the point that I wrote the longest most explicit sex scene I've ever written.... please enjoy P.S. I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on! Comments and reblogs make my day! Main Masterlist

LOGAN’S POV

The future was dark and bleak. A war of uncontrollable violence, more than Logan had ever seen in his long life.

The only bright spot in such a horrific future was you. You were the peace and rest his aching soul had long been searching for.

It started as two people seeking solace and relief in one another, but the foundation of friendship created something so much more significant than either of you could have predicted.

You became the planet around which he orbited. The home he never thought he’d find. The balm to his raging fire.

Despite the hell that was life in the future, he had you. It was fitting that it caused the world falling to shit for him to finally find you.

His self deprecating thoughts also told him that it was fitting that he lost you too. He didn’t deserve a love so pure and bright. He didn’t deserve such happiness when everyone else he cared about was either suffering or dead.

All the blood on his hands left him marked, scarred, filthy down to his soul. But you looked past all of that, claimed you loved him anyway, claimed him.

He was yours completely, worshiped at the altar of your affection, would go any lengths for you- do anything you ask.

He would do anything to protect you, and it was the biggest black mark on his soul, after an extended lifetime full of mistakes, that he wasn’t able to protect you when it mattered the most.

He shredded the sentinels, the unkillable soldiers in his rage, but one had slipped past his defenses, used your own healing powers against you and sucked the life right from you. Snuffed out your bright light all too soon.

He killed, and killed, and killed- and it still didn’t bring you back.

No one and nothing but him made it out of that abandoned warehouse that night. It was the tipping point for him, it made him bloodthirsty and reckless. It made him willing to go along with Charles and Eric’s ridiculous plan.

As he laid down on the stone slab and allowed the young mutant to send him to the past, his thoughts were only on you.

Everyone knew what his hopes were, but it went unspoken for fear it wouldn’t come true. Logan went back to the past with the desperate desire that he would wake up in a future in which you were still alive. A future he hadn’t already destroyed with the worst mistake he’d ever made. A better future. One you deserved, he would give you anything and everything you asked if he could bring you back.

He woke in 1973 in the arms of a woman who wasn’t you, a woman he didn’t really remember. He hadn’t met you yet in 1973, unfortunately it would be a long while before he met you. And besides, he didn’t have time to search for you, he only had enough time for his mission.

He could only hold onto the hope that he would see you again in the future, if he could change things for the better- if he could finally do something right.

You were his motivation through dealing with younger versions of Charles and Eric, through all the missteps and mistakes, he tried his best to not lose hope.

One last chance, after the mess that was Paris, this intervention was the only possibility of setting things right.

They had to prevent Raven from killing Trask at this ridiculous anti-mutant presentation. Logan was inclined to agree with Raven at this point, but he knew the outcome of that decision and it was one he couldn’t live with.

He and Hank made their way through the large crowds as Hank pushed Charles’ wheelchair, all focused only on their task at hand. Logan scanned the crowd, looking for Mystique despite the fact that Charles would be the only one able to find her.

A voice met his ears, one that made his spine go rod straight. A voice he had unconsciously trained himself to seek out over years.

“I really don’t want to be here,” the voice grumbled.

Logan whipped his head to the left so quickly that if it was possible he probably would have given himself whiplash.

It was you.

His heart pounded harder than it had in the entirety of his two hundred something years.

He stopped dead in his tracks and it was a force of will to not stare at you with his mouth hanging open.

You looked different, but the same. You were younger obviously, your hairstyle and clothes were completely different, but that was you.

His hand ached with the need to hold you, just one more time.

“Please, I get extra credit for attending this thing and I can’t fail my government class,” the woman who he assumed was your friend whined as she clutched at your wrist.

He did a mental tally in his head. Of course, he should’ve remembered that in the early seventies you were in a college not too far from Washington DC. It really wasn’t a huge coincidence that you would be here, but still it felt monumental.

You looked over at her and huffed in resignation.

God, you were cute, he thought.

“Besides, maybe you can meet a handsome guy here. That would lift your spirits, wouldn’t it?” your friend said as she wiggled her eyebrows at you.

You rolled your eyes and said, “This isn’t a bar, Jenna. This is anti-mutant government propaganda bullshit.”

As did so often, he agreed with you.

She pouted at you. “Well what if I promise to take you to a bar right after this ends?”

You looked over at her in exasperated fondness and let her pull you forward, closer to where Logan and Hank stood in the crowd.

Hank was saying something to him, something he didn’t hear - his attention entirely on you, and he snapped his head back to Hank as he shook his shoulder.

“What?” Logan snapped.

“Who are you looking at? Do you see Raven?” Hank asked.

Logan took a deep breath and said, “No. I’m looking at my wife.”

“Oh no,” Hank muttered.

“Logan you can’t-“

”It’s not safe for her here,” Logan growled.

————————————————-

YOUR POV

“Look, that guy is looking at you,” Jenna whispered in your ear.

You followed her line of sight and saw the most handsome man you’d ever seen.

He was exactly your type and in tight jeans to boot. He was huge- tall and extremely muscular. His dark hair was the kind of neat disheveled that begged you to run your fingers through it. His eyes were hidden by sunglasses but you could feel his intense gaze through them.

“Holy shit he’s good looking,” you murmured and your friend giggled.

He looked over at who you assumed was his friend and you continued to take him in. You weren’t sure you’d ever checked out a stranger in such a blatant manner before. There was something about him so inviting, despite his tense posture and intense demeanor, that your mouth was practically watering.

“The guy next to him is cute too. Maybe we should go talk to them,” Jenna said.

You tore your eyes from the object of your lust, and looked at the man next to him. He was cute in a nerdy way- exactly Jenna’s type. There was a third man with them, he was in a wheelchair and had his fingers to his temple as he scanned the crowd clearly in search of something or someone important.

“I think they’re coming to us,” you said as the nerdy guy walked towards you.

But unfortunately, the one you wanted to come closer didn’t, he stayed with his companion in the wheelchair and bent down to whisper something in his ear.

“Hey ladies,” the man in glasses said as he approached you and Jenna.

She immediately began to smile and twirl her hair around her finger as she spoke with him eagerly.

He introduced himself as Hank and you shook his hand and introduced yourself as well, but your eyes continued to drift behind him to the other man, the one who you felt an inexplicable tug toward.

“What about your friend?” you asked, your words an interruption to whatever Hank had been saying to Jenna.

Hank looked stressed, but you looked back at the large man only a stone's throw away.

He looked up and made eye contact with you, he must have taken his sunglasses off while you weren’t paying attention. Never before had you felt so stripped bare by just meeting a man’s eyes, there was a whirlwind of emotions within them- something akin to familiarity, possibly even love, and hunger.

It took several moments of drowning in his gaze before you regained your wits about you. You smirked at him.

He crossed his arms over his chest, which made him appear even larger as his muscles flexed. He raised a brow at you, but his lips were upturned in a small smile as if he was smiling despite himself.

You crooked a finger at him, an invitation to come closer.

He smiled and shook his head slightly, almost as if he were reprimanding himself but also couldn’t help himself. He turned his head and said something to his friend in the wheelchair before he strutted over to you.

Every long stride he took towards you led to a tightening in your chest. It wasn’t fear, no, it was yearning. There was something inside you that wanted- no, needed, to know him.

Your instincts were all wrong, he looked like a predator closing in on his prey, something about him sharp and animalistic as he approached you, and yet you felt at ease, intrigued, safe.

“Hi,” you breathed out as he reached you. He smirked and stood a bit closer than would be normal for a stranger, but you didn’t mind at all as you looked up at his towering figure.

He introduced himself in a low gravelly voice that sent a shiver down your spine and hearing his name was like an answer to a question you didn’t even know you’d been asking.

Logan.

You told him your name and he had this secret smile as if he already knew what you were going to say.

He repeated your name, and something in you changed forever at the sound of it on his lips.

“How come you didn’t wanna come say hi?” You asked teasingly.

He looked at you and you felt more at home than ever before, which you knew sounded insane, but you couldn’t deny the way he made you feel.

“Oh I wanted to,” he said and warmth filled you as you smiled at him.

“Logan,” Hank hissed as he elbowed him.

You’d honestly forgotten that you and Logan weren’t the only two people in the world at that moment. You’d forgotten about Jenna, and Hank, and the teeming crowd of people around you.

“I know,” Logan replied to Hank in a grumpy tone that made you huff a small laugh.

“Listen, I know this is going to sound crazy, but you need to leave. This isn’t safe,” Logan said fervently as he placed a large hand gently on your upper arm.

You scrunched your brows at him in confusion.

“Is this some kind of ploy to get me to leave with you?” You joked.

He chuckled, the sound from deep in his chest, and you grinned.

“If only,” he said. “No, pretty girl, I have to stay here.”

“I’m sorry, I’m confused,” you said.

His thumb rubbed up and down your arm in a way that was both comforting and familiar.

He glanced over at your friend, and as he saw that she was deep in conversation with Hank, he leaned closer to you in order to whisper in your ear.

“This isn’t a safe place for mutants,” he murmured, urgency in his voice.

You pulled back enough to look into his eyes, shock evident in your expression.

“How do you know-“ you gasped quietly.

He shook his head, “I’m one too, I can explain everything later, but please- for your own safety sweetheart, please leave.”

You met his gaze and something about the urgency and care you found in his eyes made you believe him.

“I suppose I’ll take your word for it. There’s a bar across town called McClarin’s, will you meet me there tonight? You can buy me a drink and explain all this weirdness.” You said.

There was a flash of something akin to sadness in his eyes, but he gave you a tight smile and said, “Of course, I’ll be there. I’d do anything you ask.”

You believed him.

So you turned your head to your friend and said, “Jenna, we’re leaving.”

You ignored her protests and stood on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to Logan’s cheek.

His hazel eyes fluttered closed, as if he were savoring the feeling of your lips against his skin.

“Until tonight,” you said as you slipped your hand in Jenna’s. He nodded in agreement and you turned and walked away from him.

“Why are we leaving?” Jenna complained.

“They’re going to meet us at the bar later, we can watch the broadcast on the TV,” you said.

She huffed but agreed as you led her out of the crowd and towards safety.

A little while later you sat at the bar with Jenna- you ate pretzels and nursed a beer, and watched the news.

Logan had been right, it was a dangerous situation for mutants.

Tears filled your eyes and your heart dropped into your stomach as you watched as Logan was massacred by Magneto. His body was violently filled with pieces of metal and then thrown so far the cameras didn’t catch where he landed.

He had to be dead, no one survived something like that. He saved your life and then didn’t survive the fight he protected you from.

None of the news outlets had any information on your mysterious savior.

You spent the evening calling both hospitals and morgues and no one had any knowledge of Logan or even a John Doe that matched his description.

Weeks went by with no news. There was a hole in your heart, which seemed ridiculous considering you’d only met him once, but there was something about a promise unfulfilled.

There was a feeling as if your future had been altered completely, as if Logan was supposed to be a part of it but now he never would be.

��———————————————-

Your mutant ability to heal others and yourself led you to work in a hospital as a nurse after you completed all of your schooling.

Years passed and you met Storm when she literally landed in your hospital, as in she was thrown by an enemy and crashed through the ceiling.

You stared at her in shock, then jumped towards her and used your powers to heal the gash in her stomach where blood had already begun pooling. She thanked you before flying off into battle once more.

Once the fight was won, Storm came back and asked you to come with her to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters.

You were intrigued and soon found yourself as a professor of health sciences, part time school nurse, and an X-Man on the side. You weren’t much of a fighter, during missions you really mostly hung back and healed the injured X-Men as well as any civilians fought in the crossfire.

It was a fulfilling life, one you enjoyed immensely, but something always felt like it was missing. You dated a bit but being so busy prevented anything deep.

There was no spark, no instant connection with anyone like there had been with Logan. You supposed it really was a once in a lifetime experience.

It didn’t help that you weren’t interested in anyone romantically that you worked with. Storm, who had quickly become a great friend, encouraged you to give Hank a chance when he pursued you. You tried, he was nice, but it just wasn’t love, and after a few months you ended it. Luckily you were able to remain as friends.

Time passed and Professor X pointed out to you that you didn’t appear to age. At first you brushed him off as ridiculous, but eventually consented to let Jean run tests on you.

As it turned out, your ability to heal yourself extended to things such as diseases and life’s natural course of aging.

Eternity yawned its horrid mouth open before you and the loneliness of it threatened to swallow you whole.

You took a leave of absence to avoid others seeing you in the midst of an existential crisis. You traveled for a couple of months, took time to see the world in a way you never had before, met beautiful strangers, and came to terms with the fact that it was likely you would never die, that any connections you did make would die long before you were ever ready.

You decided to make the most of life, embrace the joy and the hurt, and returned home.

As soon as you walked through the door of the mansion, everything felt different, but perhaps it was you that was changed so irrevocably.

You made your way towards Professor X’s office and literally ran into a man as he walked out.

“Ugh,” you groaned as your face squished into a broad chest. The body you slammed into was so sturdy the man didn’t even stumble, he merely placed large hands on your shoulders to steady you.

“Woah there, speedy. You alright?” A deep voice said. Something about that voice tickled something in the back of your brain, a memory from years ago.

“Sorry!,” you exclaimed as you stepped back and looked up to see his face.

“Logan,” you breathed out in surprise as you finally saw him. He looked nearly the same as all those years ago. His hair and clothes were slightly different, but it was definitely him. He was as handsome as the day you lost him.

He raised a brow in confusion as he looked at you.

“Have we met?” He asked.

Your heart dropped into your stomach. The man of your dreams, the man you thought had died and yet you had continued to pine over for years, was standing before you and didn’t remember you. He didn’t remember meeting you, an experience that had been so cataclysmic in your life but apparently unimpressionable in his.

“Yes, many years ago,” you breathed out.

He looked you up and down and said, “Well, I really wish I remembered that.”

You huffed a laugh to cover up the ache in your heart as you looked down at your feet. You told him your name as his hands finally slipped from your shoulders, you mourned the loss of his touch.

As he repeated your name in that gravelly tone your heart thumped harder in your chest, despite yourself.

“I don’t remember anything before a few years ago,” he said.

“Oh?” You asked. Maybe it wasn’t that you were forgettable, it was just that he didn’t remember anything.

“What happened?” You breathed out.

Confusion and echoes of pain clouded his gorgeous hazel eyes. “I don’t remember, but I know it was painful,” he said.

You placed a hand on his arm in comfort and said, “Maybe the professor can help you figure it out.”

He nodded, “Not sure if I’ll be sticking around long enough. Being on a team isn’t really my thing.”

“Sure it’s not,” you teased with a wink, thinking back to the team he was clearly a part of back when you met him.

He grumbled something you didn’t quite catch at the same time Charles came out of his office to greet you.

You bid Logan goodbye as you followed Charles into his office to catch up after your extended absence.

Your heart still pounded from meeting Logan and you wore a grin you couldn’t prevent for several minutes.

And to your delight, you found out later in the day that Logan decided to stay. You weren’t sure what the deciding factor was, but you were happy all the same.

Maybe things would fall into place, perhaps your future could end up brighter than previously anticipated.

————————————————-

LOGAN’S POV

Logan awoke, the same song playing on the radio, your song. He lurched out of the bed and stumbled out of the room. As he opened the door wonder filled him as he realized he was in the mansion.

Children bustled past him as they went to their classes. Friends and family that were long since passed in his future smiled and waved at him as he walked through his home eyes full of wonder.

It had worked, all the effort and pain had been worth it, everything was as it should be. The only question that remained was you. Where were you?

He made his way to Charles’ office and sighed in relief when he saw him safe and alive.

His old friend welcomed him back to the future, a better future.

“Where is she?” He breathed out as Charles read his mind, getting a glimpse of his past.

“She’s here, she’s safe, but Logan you should know-“

At that moment you walked into Charles’ office and if Logan wasn’t already sitting he would’ve fallen to his knees. He’d never seen such a beautiful sight.

He breathed out your name like a prayer and you looked over at him. He didn’t even register the look on your face, he’d already made his way across the room and wrapped you in his arms.

“Logan,” you squeaked out. “What the hell?”

He lifted you up and buried his face in your neck.

“Can’t breathe,” you huffed as you pushed on his shoulders in an attempt to get him to release you from the vice hold he had you in.

He put you down and looked down at you, placed a hand on the side of your gorgeous face- it wasn’t until now that he took in your expression.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

You pulled back from him again, even went so far as to push his hand from you and took a step back.

“What’s gotten into you? Why the hell do you think you can just-” You asked in confusion, irritation coloring your tone.

He cut you off as he blurted out, “What? I don’t understand-“

“Logan, in this timeline you and her broke up,” Charles said.

“Broke up?” Logan asked with raised eyebrows, the words lacked any meaning to him. There was no future in which he and you were not together. It was inconceivable.

“That’s ridiculous,” Logan said. At the same time you asked, “this timeline?”

You both looked at one another in confusion.

“Sit, both of you, let me explain,” Charles said.

Logan sat and watched your expression change from suspiciousness to utter shock as Charles explained that Logan was from a different future, a different timeline, and had replaced the Logan you knew.

He didn’t remember anything after 1973, other than the horrible future he had come from. But he did remember the first time you met that day in Washington DC. Although for him that was far from the first time you’d met.

“That’s a lot of information. I think you broke my brain- that’s so confusing,” you breathed out.

Logan’s heart threatened to beat out of his chest as he tried to gauge your reaction.

You turned to him. “So in this future I’m guessing you and I are together?”

Logan nodded.

“Well not in this one,” you muttered and stood to leave.

“Wait, princess - talk to me,” Logan pleaded as he grabbed your hand.

You turned back and glared at him. “Logan, I don’t care which version of you it was, you broke my heart and I have no interest in sitting here listening to any more of this.”

You yanked your hand from his and stormed out of the office. You left him feeling helpless and empty.

He looked over at the Professor. “What happened?” He asked.

“It’s still fresh. The others have found her crying multiple times over the last few days. I tried not to pry but-“

“You went into her head,” Logan guessed and Charles nodded.

He prepared himself for the worst and the flicker of hope in his chest began to gutter. He would be devastated if after all of this he couldn’t be with you.

“The two of you have been together for about five years, were close friends for years before that, but she ended it about a week ago during an argument. She wanted to have a child and you didn’t,” Charles explained.

“That’s it? She wants a baby? I’ll give her a baby. I’ll give her whatever she wants, the version of me from this timeline must be a goddamn idiot,” Logan said sharply.

Charles chuckled. “I spoke to the other you yesterday, he had come to the same conclusion. It wasn’t that he didn’t want a child, he was just letting his fears get in the way.”

“I have to go talk to her,” Logan practically growled as he stood and stalked out of the office in search of you.

It wasn’t difficult to find you. He had memorized the sound of your heartbeat, your scent, and was all too familiar with the salty tang of your tears.

He found you in a bedroom he assumed was yours, he knocked and let himself in despite your garbled yell of, “Go away!”

It was clear this was the makeshift room you’d moved into after the break up, your decorations were all in boxes, your clothes piled everywhere and spilled out of drawers, and everything all together more messy and haphazard than he knew you liked to keep things.

You sat curled in the bed as tears streamed down your sweet face.

“Go away Lo,“ you sniffled as you quickly wiped your tears away.

“Oh, my sweet girl-“ Logan said in a gentle voice only you knew.

“No, Logan I’m not yours anymore,” the words were weak and he could tell you didn’t even really mean them.

He came closer to the bed and you glared at him but didn’t say a word as he sat down and pulled you into his lap.

You sunk into his embrace and buried your face in his neck. He ran his hand up and down your back soothingly.

Your fingers tangled into his shirt, your breaths were shaky, and a few more tears managed to escape. His heart ached at the pain you were in.

“I changed the timeline of our universe to be with you. I’m not gonna let anything stand in our way. So, you want a baby, I’ll give you a baby. I’ll give you as many babies as you want. I’ll give you anything you want, I’d do anything for you. I love you,” he said and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“But-“

“And before you ask, Charles told me that the Logan in this future had come to the same conclusion and was planning on making things right with you today. In every timeline, I want to make you happy.”

He wiped the tears from your face and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Did we ever talk about kids in your future?” You asked in a soft vulnerable voice.

He held you tighter.

“Only once, but it wasn’t a possibility for us, that future was too dangerous. So dangerous that I lost you. I wouldn’t survive losing you again.”

At the pain in his voice you pulled back enough to meet his gaze.

“Tell me about that future,” you asked gently.

And so he did, every awful part of it as he held you in his arms and reminded himself that this was real, that you were safe and alive, that this was his new future.

You wiped the tear that slipped down his face as you looked up at him in awe.

“You did all that for me? For us?” You asked in wonder.

“I’d do anything for you,” he said fervently. You placed your hand on the side of his face and his eyes fluttered closed as he finally, finally received affection from you after so long.

He nuzzled his face into your hand, pressed his lips against the pulse point at your wrist, finally let himself sink into your intoxicating presence.

You slipped your hand into his hair and pressed a featherlight kiss to his lips. The weight of time without you pressed in on him and his self control snapped, with one hand on the back of your head and the other on your waist, he crushed you against his body and kissed you with desperation.

He wanted to consume you, to sink inside you, to never be apart from you again.

You made a high pitched sweet sound of surprise before you kissed him just as fervently. He groaned into your mouth at the taste of you as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

It was absolute heaven.

This kiss could have gone on for hours or perhaps only seconds, he didn't know, no time was enough with you.

You pulled back and looked at him. “I love you,” you said.

“I love you,” he groaned and pressed his lips to yours repeatedly.

You breathed out a soft giggle at his expression of adoration.

He tilted his head back to look you deep in the eyes once more and said, “Let’s make a baby.”

You looked flustered and he thought it was the sweetest thing he’d ever seen.

“Right now? I-“

“I’ve missed you so much, sweetheart. I want to. Wanna give you want you want,” he moaned as he kissed you again.

“Missed you too,” you whimpered as his lips drifted across your jaw and down your throat.

————————————————-

YOUR POV

It was all consuming. He was everywhere all at once as he laid you on your back and pressed himself on top of you.

The weight and heat of him was both comforting and intoxicating. The last few hours had given you emotional whiplash, but it was Logan.

Apparently he was your soulmate no matter the timeline. He kissed you as if he were drowning and you were his breath of fresh air. He said everything you’d been dreaming of, and more as he declared his love and promised to fulfill your every desire.

There was nothing the two of you couldn’t overcome as a team. You loved him and he loved you, and maybe that was all that mattered.

As he bit down on your neck, all other thoughts flew from your head, it was just him. You and him- forever. There would be no long lonely life, he would be by your side always.

“Logan,” you gasped and he groaned against your neck as he continued to nip and suck at the skin there. He loved to mark you as his and the thought made your toes curl.

As if he could read your mind, he said, “Tell me you’re mine.”

His tongue licked up the column of your throat and you panted, “I’m yours, Lo. Only yours.”

“Marry me,” he murmured against your skin.

‘What?” You breathed out as you placed your hands on either side of your face and pulled him back enough to meet his hazel gaze. His pupils were blown with a combination of love and lust which caused heat to fill your entire body.

“Marry me,” he repeated, then pressed his lips to yours again.

“Yes,” you gasped into his mouth. His fingers gripped your waist tighter as they slipped under your shirt and met your heated skin.

“Let me make you mine forever,” he growled and you whimpered and nodded as you tugged at his t-shirt.

He helped you pull it off him and you let out a soft groan as your hand explored his broad chest, then down his muscled torso as you followed the trail of hair that led to the vee partially hidden beneath his jeans. Your mouth watered as your hand reached his belt, and you saw the evidence of his desire for you straining against his pants.

He snatched your hand right as you were about to reach his hardened length and you whined in frustration.

“Please, Lo,” you breathed out and he smirked in that cocky way that made you want to either smack him or suck him off.

“No, I’m gonna take my time with you, pretty girl,” he said as he pulled your shirt off, then immediately followed with removing your bra. You whimpered again at the feeling of his skin against yours as he leaned back down and kissed you.

His lips trailed to your breasts and you moaned as he licked and suckled at your sensitive nipples. Your core heated and throbbed as you became slick with desire for him.

You gripped the muscles of his tensed shoulders as you wrapped your legs around his trim waist.

You attempted to grind yourself against his hard cock but he bit down on your neck in reprimand.

“Stop that,” he growled.

You moaned in response and he chuckled darkly. Suddenly he sat up- and you squeaked in surprise at the sudden shift as he stood from the bed. Before you could respond, he yanked you to the edge of the bed and kneeled before you.

“C’mon, be a good girl and I’ll reward you with my cock, I’ll fill you to the brim, give you a baby just like you want. You just have to be a good girl and let me make you come on my tongue, can you do that princess- hm?”

You moaned at his words, nodding vigorously as he slid off your jeans and spread your legs before him.

“Use your words,” he taunted as he rested your legs on his broad shoulders.

His nose ran up, up, up the inside of your thigh until it reached your panties. He groaned deeply as he took in a deep breath- turned near feral at the scent of your arousal.

“Yes, yes, I’ll be good, please- just please, Lo,” you babbled.

Another deep noise from the back of his throat came from the sounds of your sweet begging as he used his teeth to pull your panties off.

You gasped as his warm wet tongue licked up your gushing pussy, all the way from your hole to your throbbing clit.

“You this wet just for me, princess?” He said, the words muffled against your cunt. He began flicking his tongue over the most sensitive part of you and you keened.

Your back arched and you plunged your fingers into his hair, your fingers tangled in and gripped the brown and silver strands.

“Yes, for you, only for you, always for you,” rambled.

The squelching sounds of your cunt as he pressed two fingers inside mixed with your heavy pants and his groans to create the most erotic symphony you’d ever heard.

Your whines reached a fever pitch as his fingers curdled and pressed against the spongy spot inside you that made you forget anything but his name as his tongue continued to flick and swirl around your clit.

“Logan!” you moaned.

“Missed this pretty pussy,” he growled.

Heat filled you as electricity prickled up your spine. You writhed on the bed and pressed your cunt closer to his mouth.

One of his large hands smacked your hip lightly in reprimand. He then laid his arm down across your waist to hold you still.

“Thought you were gonna be a good girl, or do I need to stop,” he teased as he looked up at you and you moaned.

You slick coated his lips and beard, his hair was disheveled from your hands, and his gorgeous eyes were blown with desire.

“No, I’ll be good, promise,” you panted.

He smiled at you, the kind of smile a predator gives their prey before they pounce, and licked you once again.

You were completely at his mercy, pinned to the bed, his fingers inside you and his mouth on your cunt.

You dug your heels into the muscles of his back in an attempt to urge him on.

The tension inside you built and built as his tongue continued its ministrations.

“M’gonna come, Lo,” you whined.

“Good girl, come for me,” he replied then sucked on your clit.

The pleasure was so intense as his thick fingers continued to hit that spot inside you that lightning ran up your spine and you came with a moan of his name.

He continued to lick until you yanked on his hair in an attempt to pull his head away as his arm across your hips kept you pinned to the bed and wiggling away wasn’t an option.

He chuckled darkly as he pressed a final kiss to your bundle of pleasure then looked up at you.

“Did I do good? You gonna reward me with your cock, daddy?” you asked.

There was a heartbeat before he replied, where you worried you went too far as he looked at you in surprise.

But then came his response, “Fuck. Yes, sweetheart, you’re perfect. Daddy’s gonna give you his cock, gonna fill you up real good.”

You whimpered in desire as he stood. You sat up and immediately began to yank at his belt.

He smirked as he looked down on you- watched you in your desperation to reach his thick cock.

Your mouth watered as you won your fight with his belt and zipper and yanked the jeans down enough to get a glimpse of his gloriously hard dick.

Logan finally took pity on you and helped you to remove his pants altogether, which left him wonderfully bare before you.

Good god, he was sexy- his rippling muscles glistened with sweat and you wanted to lick every inch of his skin.

He lifted your face with a hand on your chin so you would meet his eyes once more.

At the heat in his gaze you felt yourself gush even more.

His thumb brushed across your bottom lip and you obediently opened your mouth. He pressed his thumb into your mouth and you moaned softly as you sucked on it.

“Shit, you’re killing me, pretty girl. Lay back, I need to be inside you,” he growled.

You let him pull his thumb out of your mouth and looked up at him through your lashes.

“Can I taste you first?” you asked sweetly.

His eyes rolled back into his head and he gripped your chin tighter.

“Course you can, my good girl gets whatever she wants,” he said then led your face closer to his cock.

You wanted to live in this moment forever, your head fuzzy with ecstasy only he could provide and empty of anything but him as you were eager to please him. You wanted to be his - in every possible way.

You wrapped one hand around the base of his cock and pressed a kiss to the tip as you looked up at him. His breaths stuttered and power rushed to your head. You had this big strong man literally in the palm of your hand as you gave him pleasure that nearly brought him to his knees as your tongue peeked out and you licked the sensitive underside of his tip.

He groaned your name and that prompted you on as you opened your mouth and began to take in some of his length and suckled gently.

You moaned at the salty taste of him in your mouth, and took him in deeper as your hand worked in tandem.

“You look so pretty like this,” he murmured.

You rubbed your thighs together in an desperate but fruitless attempt to generate friction as your clit throbbed again with need. There was nothing as delicious as the grunts and groans Logan made as you took him deeper into your mouth.

His hand slipped from the side of your face to cradle the back of your head and you moaned around his length as he led you to take him deeper into your throat. You took deep breaths through your nose as you swallowed him, taking him in far enough that you no longer needed to use your hand and instead used your hand to gently cup his balls.

“That’s it, doing so good f’me,” Logan groaned.

The musky scent of him filled your nostrils as your nose brushed against the wiry hairs at the base of his cock. His other hand began to flick and pinch at your nipple and you moaned around his length.

His size was substantial, but you were used to it at this point and your head emptied, only Logan present in your mind, as you let him guide your mouth up and down on his cock as you sucked him deeper.

It was everything you wanted and more, until he pulled you off him. A string of saliva connected from your bottom lip to his tip as you gasped for air and looked up at him.

He wiped away the spit as he murmured out, “fuckin’ perfect.”

You whimpered as he surged forward and kissed you, near feral with desire.

“Logan,” you gasped as he manhandled you further back onto the bed and laid himself on top of you.

He continued to kiss you, his lips moved against yours and you surged closer- your chin bumped his as you kissed him urgently. His tongue explored your mouth and electricity filled you. Your body was filled with desperation as you wrapped your legs around his trim waist.

“Need you inside me, please daddy, need your huge cock inside me, need you to fill me up,” you pleaded as he began to kiss and suck on your neck. You knew there would be bruises there tomorrow, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care - it was only more evidence that you belonged to him.

He chuckled darkly and said, “You sound so pretty when you beg, princess. Don’t worry, daddy’s got you.” He reached down and lined his cock up to your desperate hole and you whined in relief.

Slowly, so slowly, Logan pressed himself inside you. Inch by inch he sunk his cock deep inside your cunt and the feeling was unlike any other.

He caged you in with his large arms on either side of your head and you pulled his face down for another desperate kiss.

Once he was seated fully inside you, it was as if all the franticness of the moment dissipated and you both felt the need to savor the moment, to extend it for as long as possible, to live in this experience of perfection for eternity.

There were times that sex with Logan was rough and animalistic, but you both knew that this wouldn’t be one of those times. This was making love - this was a reunion, a reconciliation, a healing of hurts, a fusion of souls.

You looked deep into his eyes and found home.

You locked your ankles around his waist to keep him close, the desire to be as close to him as possible all consuming. His deep breaths pressed his chest against yours and there was nothing in the world but you and him.

One of his hands stroked your arm as you reached up and placed your hand on the side of his face. The other rested against his shoulder as you gripped the muscles you found there.

You caressed his cheek and ran your fingers in his beard.

“I love you,” you whispered.

His eyes became bright with emotion, he had the prettiest eyes you’d ever seen- dark green with rings of brown that held unconditional love for you.

He murmured your name and it sounded like a prayer of devotion as it fell from his plush lips. He pressed a tender kiss to your lips.

He pulled back enough to press his forehead against yours.

“I love you more than anything,” he replied.

You felt perfectly incandescently happy, so wonderfully full of him, and despite both of your desires for this moment to never end, you also needed him to move inside you.

“Please, Lo,” you breathed out.

He knew exactly what you meant and he braced his forearms on either side of your head and pulled his hips back. Logan pulled back enough that only the tip of his cock remained inside you, before he sunk back in slowly.

Your breaths mingled with his and it felt as if the two of you were on an island of your own- as if you were the only two people in the world.

There was a feeling of connectedness, as if the puzzle pieces had all finally fallen into place, as your heartbeat sped and began to beat in time with his.

“You feel so good, so big,” you breathed out as he continued his slow steady pace. Again, and again, and again he pushed himself inside you.

He moaned and kissed you again, this time messy and more urgent.

The string of fate that connected the two of you pulled taunt, became stronger as a result of your union, as you declared to one another your infinite commitment and love.

You clenched down as he increased his pace.

“That’s it, that’s my good girl, so fuckin’ tight,” he said, his lips moved against yours as he imprinted the praise into your mouth.

There was a delicious feeling of fullness as you felt stretched and stuffed to the brim with his cock, as your heart threatened to burst at the care he showed you. Your hands ran across his arms and shoulders, around and down to his back where your nails dug into the sweat slicked muscles you found there.

He grunted and again increased his pace. Your thighs tightened around his waist and you held onto him more securely as he pistoned his cock inside you.

There was no better feeling than when he was inside you. His cock repeatedly hit that spot deep within that made you see stars and you felt that familiar burning inside you begin to grow.

There was no possible way to be closer to him. His face was buried in your throat, his chest pressed against yours and every thrust brushed your sensitive nipples against the hair there, your puffy clit felt shockwaves of every thrust as his groin grinded against it, the slick of your arousal coated you both- there was no possible way to be closer to him, and yet somehow you needed more.

“Daddy, please,” you gasped.

“Mhm, is this what my pretty girl needs?”

He shoved a hand between your bodies and began to press tight circles against your throbbing clit.

“Yes!” You let out a high pitched whine as you threw your head back let out a low groan as you clenched down on his thick cock.

The squelching sounds of your joining bodies should’ve made you embarrassed, but white hot pleasure eroded all your senses.

“C’mon pretty baby, come for daddy and then I’ll fill you up, I’ll make you full of me, make sure everyone knows you’re mine with my ring on your finger and my baby in your stomach. S’that what you want? Huh? You want everyone to know you’re mine?” he growled in your ear.

“God, y-yes, Logan- fuck,” you stuttered out.

He continued to fuck into you with those long harsh thrusts, the pace quick and intense as his finger drew tight circles on your overstimulated clit. It balanced you on the line of pleasure and pain, but his words pushed you over the edge.

You gasped loudly, “M’gonna come!”

He grabbed your face and said, “Look at me.”

White hot pleasure exploded through you. Your eyes fluttered open and you stared deep into his intense gaze as you came on his cock.

He groaned along with you as you clenched down on him.

“Shit, that’s my good girl,” he said and kissed you sloppily.

You keened at the praise, your head fuzzy with ecstacy. Your nails again dug into his back as he continued to pump himself inside you as he chased his own release.

His breaths came harder as his sweat slicked skin slid against yours. His hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise as his pace somehow increased.

There was nothing you could do but take it. This-this was bliss, this was perfection.

“Want you to fill me up, want you to come in me, please Lo,” you whined.

He groaned and with one more deep thrust he pushed himself as far inside you as possible and came. He filled you up, with stuttered breaths and hips, he came until he had nothing else to give.

You pulled your head back from his neck, where you had bit down- hard, and pressed a kiss to his lips.

You could’ve sworn that the thread of fate, the connection between the two of you glowed in the aftermath.

With a grunt, he flipped over onto his back as he held you tight, and kept you against him and pulled you on top of him as he kept his cock inside you.

You rested your head against his chest.

“Can we just stay like this for a while?” you asked.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head as his large hand ran up and down your back.

“Of course, princess. Anything you want.”

And so you did. After all, time was a minuscule thing when the entirety of a new future together stretched before you.

#logan howlett #wolverine #logan #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x y/n #wolverine x you #wolverine x y/n

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norrizzandpia · 5 months ago

Note

Heyyy ages ago when you wrote "She's missed you" you mentioned you would write about reader being close to Oscar's family and taking his sister's for coffee, would you consider writing something like that please I'd love to read it

This has been in my inbox for some time but i remember when i first got it going, “FINALLY SOMEONE ASKED ME TO DO THIS” I absolutely love this idea i just didn’t know if that was something yall wanted to see!!

Y/n and the Piastri Sisters, the Piastri Sisters and Y/n

Summary: Oscar knew that Y/n and his sisters were close, but to wake up on a Saturday morning to find all of them gone, he wonders if he really underestimated how much the girls loved each other’s company.

Warnings: none, absolute FLUFF, cutest thing i think ive ever written lowkey, yn and Oscar being relationship GOALS (i want what they have), one remark about Oscar wanting to plan their wedding

What Oscar expects when he wakes is Y/n’s head shoved into the crook of his neck, breathing deeply as she slept. He’s always the one to wake up and, while he used to hate that when sleeping at his friends’ houses, he learned to cherish it. Cherish it because it gave him the opportunity to admire the beauty of his girlfriend when she wouldn’t see and blush whilst pushing him away. The soft dip at the top of her lip, the freckles around her nose, and the strands of her hair splayed across his pillow were all things he loved to stare at when he got the privilege of waking up before her. Yet, to his dismay, this morning when his eyes fluttered open, his girlfriend is nowhere to be found.

Frowning, he rises from the bed and looks around. Her clothes from last night are still flung over his desk chair, but her purse, the black bag that was right beside the clothing just hours before, is gone. His confused expression deepens and he moves to the bathroom, finding the door closed. He assumes she’s in there, maybe having brought her purse in because she had gotten her period and needed the tampons from it. However, that idea soon falls apart when he remembers the basket he’d set up underneath his sink with everything she could possibly need if she ever were to get it whilst at his house. And he knows there’s no way she has it seeing as two weeks ago she had pushed him away when he was trying to have… fun and told him it would be too messy.

Plus, the bathroom is weirdly silent and when he knocks on the door, “Baby?”, nobody answers. It creaks as he pushes it open and the small room is completely empty. Void of his girl.

The image of Oscar Piastri, in only his boxers, standing in the midst of his bathroom with knotted eyebrows and his arms stretched out at his side with his palms facing up would make anyone chuckle. He’s so genuinely lost at the lack of Y/n and it’s written all over him. From the way his eyes dart from the bed, maybe he had somehow missed her, to the door, it’s clear he’s trying to figure it all out in his head.

Finally, he comes to realize that the only logical explanation is that she’s downstairs or somewhere else in the house. So, his body takes him to the hallway outside. No Y/n. Then, he walks down to the kitchen and living room. No Y/n. Maybe the dining room? Nope.

Where the hell is Y/n?

He remembers a time when he was having trouble locating the girl and had only found her because her giggling had echoed throughout the whole house. That time, she had been with his sister in her room. Oscar loves how close his three sisters and Y/n are, but it makes him groan in annoyance when they steal his moments alone with her.

He goes to Hadie’s room first, but he finds it empty. Weird. Usually, the girl sleeps in late and, if not, she’s almost always in there.

Then, it’s Mae’s and he finds the same thing. Completely empty.

Lastly is Edie and he’s partially not surprised to find it’s empty as well.

Now, he’s wondering where his sisters are.

“Mom?!” He yells into the house, hoping his mother can alert him on where the majority of the women in his life have gone to.

He hears soft steps before his mother’s face appears at the bottom of the stairs, “Yes, love?”

Oscar patters down to her, looking completely helpless and lost. She frowns at him, noting her son’s lack of enthusiasm.

He huffs like a disgruntled toddler before whining, “Where’s Y/n? Or Hadie? Or Edie? Or Mae? I can’t find Y/n and when I went to look for her, I found all of them gone.”

Nicole chuckles before patting his shoulder lovingly, “They all went out to get Starbucks around thirty minutes ago.”

His head rears back, “What? Why? Why wasn’t I invited?”

Nicole smiles softly before turning around to walk into the kitchen. Oscar follows her closely behind, waiting for her answer, but she takes her time as she cleans dishes from, what he can assume, was her breakfast earlier.

Her hands wet and soapy, she lets her eyes drift to him, “They wanted girl time and Y/n didn’t want to wake you. She knew you were exhausted from the triple-header. She told me if you woke up running around the house and looking for her to tell you they’d be back soon and with coffee for you.”

He softens at that. How well she knows him always melts his heart. The exhaustion from all the races and the sleep he craved, she knew all too well. His coffee order, which he was confident she would get right, was something she had already thought of from the beginning of this escapade. The way she knew he would be slightly panicked, wanting her for their slow morning together, made him feel seen randomly. As she always says, to be loved is to be seen.

Still, he’s a bit disappointed he didn’t get to spend a morning with his sisters and his girlfriend. His mother must see this on his face because she shuts off the water and lays a hand over his.

“You know, it’s okay to feel left out, but you should also know that I’ve never seen any prior girlfriend of yours this close with your sisters. They look up to her and when she started reaching out, asking if they wanted to play games or go out and do something together, their eyes lit up. You’re entitled to want to be with them this morning, but promise me you’ll acknowledge the effort Y/n continuously puts in to bond with the girls you’ve always wanted to protect.” She states softly. Her eyes lock with Oscar’s and she recognizes the understanding in them, the sudden realization. Maybe he hadn’t picked up on how hard Y/n had been trying, but Nicole definitely had. She saw the way Y/n always brought up topics of conversation the sisters could relate to, the way she always listened to their every word, and the way she learned their interests before using those things to bond. Nicole will never forget Mae telling Y/n about a book she had read only for Y/n to come back a week later saying she had read the book and couldn’t wait to talk about it with Mae.

Nobody was really interested in reading in the Piastri family the way Mae was. But, now, there was Y/n.

Oscar nods, “I guess it never really dawned on me how close Y/n was to them, but I see it now. If they’re comfortable enough to be hanging out alone, without me, then I guess they’re further along than I thought.”

“You should’ve heard them leaving this morning. The amount of laughter leaving the door was the cutest. Not to mention the way they joked about having to fear for their life while Y/n drove and Y/n responding about turning into you. The girls have never sounded that excited.” Nicole’s smile is big. Oscar knows it’s because she always wanted a bigger sister the close-in-age sisters could have to guide them. He loves that his mother believes that to be Y/n.

A moment of silence passes before Oscar asks, “How’d this end up happening? I know they didn’t talk about going out this morning last night when Y/n got here. I know because I was with her the majority of the night. Did the girls wake up and ask her? Did they come into our room?”

Nicole shakes her head quickly, “No,” She laughs, “It was Y/n. Y/n set an alarm to wake herself up, I know because I heard it, and then surprised them all by waking them up from their beds and rambling about getting coffee in their pajamas. It was all her. I assume she’d been planning it since yesterday, but just forgot to tell you. When you went to the bathroom last night, she turned to me and asked if the girls had any plans in the morning. When I told her no, she just nodded her head with a smile and turned away.”

Oscar feels as though he could start planning the Y/l/n-Piastri wedding right then and there. To know she’s gone out of her way to get to know his siblings, someone she knows he loves so dearly, gives him confirmation Y/n and him are together for the long haul. Nobody has ever nurtured a relationship with his sisters this heavily before. He falls in love with her more because of it.

Just as he’s about to speak, the front door flies open and roars of laughter flood through. He smiles to himself before turning around to see his girlfriend in the midst of all the sisterly chaos. His eyes land on her first, seeing her looking at Hadie with a smile on her face. He’s not sure what Hadie’s done, but it seems to be the funniest thing she’s ever experienced with the way she’s almost doubled over in laughter. Edie stands next to her, but when some of her coffee spills out and onto the floor, all four girls almost fall to the floor, borderline wheezing. The laughter is infectious and Oscar finds himself joining in. He can only imagine the kind of heart eyes he must be sporting right now.

His steps take him closer to the girls and when Hadie sees him, her face contorts, “Ugh, not you. You’ve come to take her away!”

All his sisters nod as they cross their arms over their chests, mischievous grins on their faces. He only shakes his head, smiling at them too.

“It’s only fair, I’m afraid.” Y/n begins as she walks toward him. He pulls her into him by the waist and she smiles, kissing him on the cheek, before handing him his coffee, his order completely right. “You guys got me all morning and, not to mention, all last week when he was gone. I’ve got to tend to my girlfriend duties now.”

The sisters nod their heads slowly, begrudgingly. Oscar laughs at the fact that they most likely wish he didn’t exist so they could have Y/n all to themselves. Ironically, he adores that.

“You guys hung out all last week?” He asks when Y/n’s previous statement catch up to him.

They look at him as if it’s obvious. “Yeah,” Y/n says as he continues to hold her against him, “Who do you think convinced them to get matching pajamas?”

It’s only then that Oscar clocks the matching sets his girlfriends and sisters are all sharing. His mouth falls open and his cheeks redden. He’s not exactly sure why he blushes, but he thinks it’s because he can’t believe how lucky he’s gotten to have a girl like Y/n fall in love with him.

When all four girls start rambling, at first to him but then to each other, about how much they love their matching pajamas, Oscar feels eyes on him. His head moves to the side and he finds his mother peering her head around the corner to admire the scene in the doorway.

If the way his mother and sisters all look at Y/n tells him anything, it’s that they will not be letting her go for a while. Neither will he, though.

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taylormarieee · 10 months ago

Text

Wanna make out in the backseat of my brothers car? Sam Winchester

Summary: You and Sam planned on just making out but what happens when it leads to more...

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 932

Warnings: PiV sex, Clit rubbing, sensitivity, overstimulation, Kissing, hair pulling kink, praise kink, Sam being an absolute slut, established relationship, Car sex, Dom!Reader, Switch!Sam, Creampie

A/N: Strictly written for my wife @dollyfl1rt for you babygirl

You have been dating Sam Winchester ever since his last girlfriend died. You took it slow and let him grieve.

You two were like peas in a pod. Always together, laughing, hunting. It was always hard to go on dates considering the circumstances of a Supernatural crime happening all over the world.

Demons, shapeshifters, wendigos, and vampires. It was so much for you yet so exciting and exhilerating.

Tonight you and Sam went out for a little night drive in Deans car. You had to negotiate a plan with him.

Granted it took like two hours of begging, you made him crack. Now here you two were sitting on a hill in front of the city.

"God, it's so pretty, don't ya think Sammy?" You ask, staring and admiring the stars.

"Yea, it is. But not as pretty as you" He says with a shit eating grin on his cute features.

"You are so corny you know that." You say laughing in between sentences.

"Yea, I know." He says laughing with you as he rubs your thigh. "One of the many things I like about you." You compliment.

"He smirks and turns his head towards you shuffling his hand higher up your thigh.

"What other things do you like about me?" He asks. You turn to him and smile.

"I love your hair and how soft it is, I love your face, I love your jawline, and I love your lips and how soft they a-are."

You notice him getting closer and his hand going higher until there under your mini skirt.

His face gets closer until your noses are touching. "You wanna feel how soft they are?" He whispers to you.

He watches you squirm in your seat and you whimper. You frantically nod your head and he grabs your neck and smashes his lips on yours.

You moan in to the kiss and he stars rubbing your clit through your panties. You squirm and whimper at his warm touch on your soaking wet pussy.

"Y-You like that baby?" He whispers into your mouth. You nod and whimper out a 'yes'.

He loved watching you squirm whenever he touched you like this. All in your areas and making you all hot and flustered.

"Sam please, please I need you." You moan out, "I can't sweets, it's my brothers car, He'll kill us."

"Sam I don't really care, we won't have another time. Please Sammy.”

He stares at your glossy eyes and finally gives in. “Ok but this is the first and last time baby, we say nothing to him.”

You nod your head frantically as a silent promise and he grabs your hips dragging you over to him.

You grab his face once your settled on his lap and he reclines the seat as you place your soft lips on his.

He is the one to moan into the kiss now. You begin to grind on him in a slow motion and he groans squeezing the flesh at your hip.

You take of your shirt leaving you in your black bra. He skillfully slides his cold hands to your back and in clips your bra.

You tough on Sam’s hair and he moans. You keep tugging on his hair and he continues to moan out grasping your ass.

You start to grind faster on the rough denim of his jeans. You tug on the hem of his shirt so he could take it off.

He takes his shirt off and unbuckles his jeans and pulls the down far enough to let out his cock.

His boxers are being tugged off by you and you both are rushing so eager to touch and feel each other.

You pump his cock and Sam let’s out the sluttiest moan known to man.

You moan as you slide down on his length. He fills you up so nice.

You begin to bounce on his cock, your breast bouncing all in Sam’s face.

He begins playing with your tits and throws his head back when you roll your hips in a type of way.

“Fuck you feel so good! You fill me up so nice Sammy.” You whimper out.

“You gonna cum inside me Sammy? Please cum all inside me sam.” You whimper out.

“Shit. Holy~f-fuck, I’m gonna cum baby.” He moans out. You roll your hips, grinding on him nice and fast.

You bounce on him non-stop until you feel his cock twitch inside of you.

You feel him shoot his warm seed inside of you nice and deep inside your velvety walls.

“oh f-fuck baby.” He moans out. You continue to bounce on him after his orgasm not letting up and he begins to squirm.

“baby! Ahh~ it’s t-to much!” He whimpers out. You roll your hips on him and finally stop.

He then begins to ram into your tight pussy from below you.

“Cum for me now baby! Come one you can do it sweetheart. So wet for me.”

You whine at his praise and hide your head in his neck and whine incoherent nonsense.

You chant Sam’s name like a prayer. You feel your orgasm approaching and he chuckles.

“Let go mama, let go all on my cock.” He whispers. You moan his name and cum all on his cock.

You shake at the feeling of your pleasure coursing through you.

When you finally catch your breath you look around and notice deans car windows are all fogged up.

“Remember baby, not a word about this, okay?” He asks once again.

“Yea. Yea I know.” You say smiling before kissing him once again.

Taglist: @itzdarling @dollyfl1rt

#sam winchester #sam winchester smut #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester x you #sam winchester fanfiction

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send4venus · 6 days ago

Note

do u think you could write something about reader faking an orgasm and then abby finding out n she is maaddd 🙈

it’s okay if not tho !❤️

I can absolutely try !! I hope what I wrote is somewhat close to what you were envisioning but either way, I hope you enjoy <33

Warnings - basically the ask, essentially porn with no plot therefore it's not written with any specific AU in mind so feel free to interpret it into whatever one you want, smut (MDNI), tribbing, unintentional edging, faking a orgasm, lowkey kinda awkward at the beginning, overstim, oral & fingering r!receiving, praise, abbys just a sweetheart who wants to take care of you

this is also definitely longer than it should’ve been but oh well

"fffuck baby you feel so good”

Abbys on top of you grunting and whining as she grinds her wet pussy across your’s and you’re also whining underneath her with furrowed brows however, unlike Abby, you can’t seem to reach that peak you so desperately want and need.

No matter what you try to do in an attempt to gain more friction whether it be grinding up into abby or trying to follow her movements, you only receive light grazes when abbys clit drags against yours which keeps you pent up and frustrated. And it definitely doesn’t help that your focus is off as your mind is crowded with the stress of midterms. All you want to do is have sex and cum with your girlfriend, but by the looks of it, that just wont be happening, and you’re too nervous to tell her.

Finally, Abby lets out a long drawn out string of curses and quick breaths as she leans down to lay on top of you as she orgasms and you feel her cum dripping onto your cunt and the feeling makes you let out a whine.

Abbys still grinding against you kisses along your neck and you can hear her whimpers and see her legs shake from overstimulation but you know she isnt gonna stop until you finish, so mentally you apologize to her for what you’re about to do and let out a series of faux high pitched whimpers moans and curses and grind up into her, hoping that she wont focus on it enough and just mistake her own juices as yours and that your moans are convincing enough.

But Abby knows you. She knows exactly what you sound like when you finish, she knows how your clit twitches and hole squeezes around nothing, your sloppy attempts at getting a few last bits of friction in, and she knows that whatever it was that you just did, definitely wasn’t real.

Abby quickly sits up and positions herself over you with her arms on either side of your head and you’re trying your best to avoid her confrontational gaze.

“baby?”

You respond with a quick ‘hm?’ before finally looking at her, trying to make yourself appear as innocent as possible.

“did you just.. fake an orgasm?”

“what?! n-no of course not why would you-“

“don’t you dare fucking lie to me”

You swallow thickly. You knew she could see right through you and her assertiveness always made your facades crumble. So after a few seconds of silence and her pointed eyes staring right into yours you finally break

“okay i did im sorry! im just too distracted and i didn’t wanna ruin it for you and because i know how overstimulated you get and you wouldn’t stop until i came and-”

You rambled on and on explaining it to her and then she started… laughing? You stopped talking,suddenly feeling extremely embarrassed and exposed.

“baby its okay, i just wish you would’ve told me, i just gotta make it up to you now”

Your brows furrowed at the last part of her sentence

“make it up to me how?”

“ fuck right there! “

Abby’s tongue plunged in and out of your cunt, occasionally stopping and reaching up to circle or suck on your clit, she had already made you cum beforehand letting you grind up and down on her thigh, allowing you to get the friction you were so desperately craving, leaving you fucked out yet still begging for more.

Your moans and curses bounced off the walls as the noises abby made while eating you out as if you were her favorite food, and if Abby was honest, you might as well be.

“abs shit don’t stop m’ gonna cum im so close please don’t stop”

Abby hummed in acknowledgment and sped up her pace, earning an extremely loud whine from you and you ground onto her face in an attempt to bring you to your peak sooner.

Within seemingly seconds you’re thighs were squeezing around abbys head so tight she almost couldn’t breathe as your orgasm crashed into you, although she wasn’t complaining. Your hand instinctively tugged on her messy braid, causing her to groan into your core, and the other you slapped over your mouth in an attempt to muffle your moans and curses.

She slowed her movements and your thighs and hands loosened up. Eventually she stopped and you started to catch your breath, assuming she was done but it hitched when you felt her fingers curling up into you.

“i know baby just one more ‘kay? you can handle that right sweet girl?”

You nodded your head responding with a mumbled ‘can handle it abs’ which made her smile. She sat above you now, her eyes focused on watching how your cunt squeezed around her fingers as she pushed the remnants of your previous orgasm back in.

You felt that same bubbling feeling in your core embarrassingly quickly. You tried to tell abby through broken whines and curses, wrapping your hand around her wrist even, but couldn’t seem to get the words out as your brain was beginning to short circuit and your body began to twitch due to the overstimulation.

“shh i know baby go ahead i got you”

Not too long afterwards your legs shook and abby felt you squeeze around her fingers so tightly she could barely move. She leaned down and kissed you gently as you succumbed to your orgasm. the kiss was sweet and sensual, a stark contrast to the shocks being sent through you as she rubbed your clit.

Eventually every little thing became too much to handle and you brought your hand up to her chest to gently push her off. Abby sat up and removed her fingers, smiling as she admired her work, licking you off her fingers and leaning down to give you a quick peck on your lips, allowing you to taste yourself, before smiling against them

“told you i’d make it up to you”

#𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬 🐞✏️#tlou fanfiction #tlou2 #abby anderson #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson fic #the last of us

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casscainmainly · 4 months ago

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My Top 10 Batgirl (2000) Moments

This is my list of top 10 Batgirl (2000) moments!! There were so many to choose from, but these are my personal favs :)). Counting down from 10 to my absolute favourite.

10. Volving

An absolute classic. Perfectly encapsulates what Cass does throughout the entire run, and more writers should play with Cass' use of language like this!

9. Beat Up Every Mob In Gotham

Perfect encapsulation of the early Barbara-Cass dynamic, and one of the funniest moments in the series. Just love the expressions and the way this shows so much of Cass' character.

8. Choosing to Write

The entirety of issue #2 builds up to this heart-wrenching moment. After delivering a dead man's final message to his wife, Cass sees the wife's reaction to the written message and decides to learn to write. A foundational moment for her character, and a nice motherly Babs scene too.

7. Alpha Redemption

Capping off issues 35 + 36, Batgirl unmasks herself to convince Alpha (an amnesiac villain) that he doesn't have to be defined by his past. Brilliantly displays her core belief that people can change, and the fact that her belief pays off makes this moment extremely moving.

6. For God's Sake

Possibly a controversial pick, but I really like this moment because it underscores some of the fundamental conflict between Babs and Cass. They love each other, but they don't always understand each other, particularly in regards to each other's disabilities. A painful moment that should have been explored more.

5. Fight For Your Life

My favourite Stephanie and Cass moment in this run. You can feel Cass' grief throughout this hallucination, but there's also so much hope and love (for Stephanie and for herself). It's an amazing conclusion to Cass' initial suicidal tendencies: instead of desiring death, she now actively fights to live.

4. Darknight Detectives

This interaction sums up a lot of Bruce and Cass' best moments. Cass' unwavering moral beliefs, Bruce's pride, their instinctive understanding of each other; they just get each other in a way few others do. I picked this one instead of the 'instinct/good answer' moment because it also marks Cass' development in her detective ability. From Moment 8 above to here, the confidence in her mental capacities has grown so much. She really volved!

3. Perfect For A Year

I mean of course this had to be here. These lines literally take up 90% of my brain space, it's an incredibly tense moment that illustrates Cass' desire to be perfect, her need to be useful and good. This issue is also just awesome.

2. You're... Not

Another absolute classic. Illustrates Cass' compassion and her belief that people aren't defined by their lineage, which is particularly personal to her, given her own dad. This struggle between good/bad, parent/child defines many of Cass' best stories.

1. Who Do You Think You Are? + Father's Day

What else would number 1 be?? Issue 33 is my favourite in the entire run, and the entire thing is stacked with moments that could fill up this list. I just love 'who do you think you are' because it's all of Cass' rage spilling out, and yet she still loves David Cain in her own complicated way (and he reciprocates, too). Then we have the ending, which is the BEST Bruce and Cass moment ever. The sparse, meaningful dialogue, the expressions, the reveal of the TITLE: comic book writing at its finest.

Honorary mention to the Shiva/Cass fight, which just narrowly missed out.

#cassandra cain #batman #batgirl #everyone should read batgirl (2000) right now #barbara gordon #stephanie brown #bruce wayne

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auroralwriting · 5 months ago

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need a hand?

bucky barnes x reader (no use of y/n)

bucky fails at being romantic on your first date.. kind of

word count: 738 | warnings: bucky being a goofball

lowkey this is the funniest fic i've ever written, enjoy silly bucky!

James Buchanan Barnes considered himself a true, old-fashioned romantic. So, when you said yes to your first date after a long friendship, Bucky knew he had to make everything perfect for you.

Being two Avengers (or whatever superheros were now called), your lives were filled with action. Bucky wanted to do something laidback, fun, relaxed. After a few Google searches, Bucky decided he'd take you to Dave and Busters for your first date.

Of course, he planned on absolutely winning you over. Sure, it was the first date, but Bucky wanted to show you how romantic he could be. Casual flirting and small touches were already established; he wanted you to swoon.

So, the day finally came for your first date. Bucky had told you to dress casually, so he did the same. He definitely tried to look his best, even if it was a casual look. By the looks of your outfit, you thought the same.

You were definitely surprised when Bucky walked you out to his motorcycle. You didn't know he rode one, so that was great news. The ride there was fun, Bucky sang loudly as you laughed. It was enjoyable.

Once you arrived to Dave and Busters, Bucky made sure to get as many tokens as he could so you both could spend all the time in the world having fun. You played games, competed for who could get the best high score, and casually made fun of each other while you played. So far, things were going great!

Then, your eye caught onto a small stuffed animal in a claw machine you just adored. It took Bucky less than five seconds to decide he was getting you that stuffed animal. So, ten whole minutes were spent in anticipation as Bucky repeatedly tried to win it for you. Of course, as all claw machines are, it was clearly rigged, dropping the toy before it hardly lifted in the air.

"I'm gonna get it," Bucky promised, swiping his card once more in the machine.

You laughed, "I'm gonna go get a drink, you keep trying, okay?"

Even after you left, another turn went wasted as Bucky failed to get the toy. So, he made a new plan, he was going to reach in and grab it.

With his metal arm stuffed up the machine, Bucky quickly realized there was no way he could reach it. So, he went to withdraw his arm when he realized it was stuck. After a few more tugs, panic settled in his core. Shit, this was bad.

"Uhm, Buck?" Shit!

Bucky turned his head to see you standing behind him, stifling a laugh. "Hey, doll,"

"Are you stuck?" You asked slowly, lips pressing together tightly in the strongest attempt to keep yourself from bursting into tears right then and there from the humor of it all.

With an awkward look, Bucky muttered, "No.."

You giggled and knelt down next to him, "Can I?" Bucky nodded with a sigh as your hands found the small buttons on his metal arm that detached it. It fell right off his body and thankfully out of the machine. Bucky stood up and reattached it, doing a full three-sixty with his arm to set it back in place.

"Were you trying to get me that stuffed animal?" You asked softly.

"I didn't wanna waste our tokens..." Bucky trailed off. You could've sworn in that moment, you had hearts for eyes.

You grabbed Bucky and lead him back to the machine, "Watch and learn, Barnes," You said smoothly as the game started up. With just one try, the toy was now in the claws grasp, falling down into the compartment for you to grab. It was safe to say Bucky was floored.

"How did you do that?" He asked as you laughed.

"It's my special talent," You answered with a confident look.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at you, "You know mine?" With a shake of your head, Bucky smirked slyly at you, "Do you wanna know?" Before you could answer, Bucky grabbed your waist with both hands, pulling you flesh against him as he placed a strong kiss on your lips. It was so soft, yet so smooth and passionate.

Once he pulled back, you stared at him with wide eyes and red cheeks. "That's a good talent." Bucky let out a loud laugh at your response as he kissed your knuckles.

"C'mon, doll. Show me what other games you can win for us."

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x reader #marvel fic #sebastian stan x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #the winter soldier #winter soldier #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction

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teaspacebar · 2 months ago

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spiced chai

pairing: carmen "carmy" berzatto x reader

summary: you've been living in chicago for about a year, and you're suddenly managing the coffee shop in the well beloved bookstore, nan's. you meet carmen berzatto on a not-so-good day. you're thrust into the everchanging societal landscape that is making friends in your 20s..

word count: ~9.7k

warnings: language, depictions of mental illness, barista!reader, afab!reader (but tried to be as neutral as possible), neurodivergent!reader, they don't kiss, could be read as platonic tbh but there's crumbs in there if you look, takes place over the course of a few months, probably doesn't follow canon fully (i'm not caught up yet forgive me)

a/n: *dumps this here and runs* but actually this piece of writing appeared in my brain and i've been picking away at it for a couple of months. i feel like i've put more of myself into this fic than with anything else i've written, so this is definitely more of a self insert (pls be kind or don't read if that's not your vibe). i'm queer, non-binary, and autistic and i just wanted to insert that into this space. i feel like there's more to explore here, so i might write more for this if i feel so inclined.

Meeting Carmen Berzatto was not on your to-do list for Tuesday morning.

Not that having to run down to the nearest corner store to grab milk - since the milk fridge was on the fritz…again - at 4am was in your plans either. It always seemed like one step forward, three giant leaps back with the little shop on the corner you basically called home. It was weird, to be thrust into leadership as your manager made an abrupt exit.

The small bookstore, with an even tinier coffee shop, had been your place of work for the last year or so. You loved it. The people were great, and Nan, the shop owner, was absolutely lovely. She was getting up in her years, but the genuine care she had for the employees made all the difference. She put her trust in you to run the cafe, saying “You have the experience, and the care you have for people shows. I know this. Everyone knows this. Now you just have to see it - have confidence.”

“Confidence my ass,” you mutter, carrying five gallons of milk around the corner.

What happens next might have been considered the beginning of a rom-com, but you’re a realist, and the world is shitty.

There’s a crash, and the distinct sound of three of the five gallons of milk dropping onto the sidewalk. You stare, watching in slow motion as the milk forms into a river, dripping off the sidewalk into the gutter.

The person who ran into you curses, “Shit — fuck, sorry, I—I wasn’t looking where I was…dammit.”

You grip the other two jugs in your arms, blinking out of the haze to let out a hysterical laugh. “Great…cool cool.” Cold plastic bites into your fingers, and you take a deep breath. “Yeah, okay, what else was gonna happen?” You finally look up to see the one you collided with. The man looks extremely uncomfortable, foot tapping like he wants to bolt. Plastering on a smile you shake your head, “It’s fine. I’m the one who thought carrying five gallons of milk would be fine.” You ramble on, trying to ease his nerves, “I mean — why would I drive, like, thirty seconds. Park, get the milk, come all the way back. Seemed stupid…but now there’s milk in my socks.” You grimace, fighting the urge to chuck the remaining jugs of milk in the street so you could also hurl your milk-soaked shoes and socks after them. It makes the ache in your chest sharpen.

“Here, where are you —“

You cut him off, “No, no, it’s okay. I got it, thank you.” You gesture to the door that’s just a few feet away from you. “This is me, anyway.” You adjust your hold on the milk, brushing past the man to pull open the door. You catch it with your hip, not daring to look back as you head behind the counter. You release a sigh, setting the bane of your existence on the black speckled marble.

“Fuck,” you whisper, pressing the backs of your hands to your eyes. You shake out your arms, biting your lip. “Okay, asshole, let’s get your shit together.” You quickly put the milk into the small fridge below the bar and walk to the back. The squish of your socks curdles your stomach, and you breathe through your mouth to avoid the smell. You take off your shoes, throwing them into a plastic bag to take home. Tossing your socks into the garbage, you grab your replacement sneakers and socks from your cubby. It wasn’t the first time you’ve dropped something on your shoes, it wouldn’t be the last.

You take your time in the back. You had gotten to the shop around 4am, unable to sleep. You were messing around with recipes, seeing if there was a possibility of baking some of the food in the cafe fresh, instead of outsourcing. It was something you put on your own plate, and you didn’t want to disappoint Nan. You had shown up early, looking to try out some muffins, and noticed the fridge had been hovering at sixty degrees all night. You’ll have to grab some more milk before the day starts, but that could be a problem for 8am you.

Walking through the swinging doors, you jump as you see someone at the bar counter. Pressing a hand to your fluttering heart, you finally take in the man that had run into you earlier. A mop of curly hair on his head, white tee, very blue eyes…and standing behind eight gallons of milk.

“Um…” you look between the milk and him a few times.

“The…uh – the door was unlocked. Figured I owed you one.” He rubs the back of his neck.

“How’d you even get it all here?”

“Made two trips.” His gaze snaps back to you as you laugh, this time more genuine. “Fridge go out, or somethin’?” You’re still staring at him like he has two heads, and he rambles on, “Sorry for just…barging in. I used to go to this place…when I was kid. My sister and I would grab whatever pastries they had left for the day. And, yeah, we’d just sit, read random shit. I work at the restaurant just down the street…’s why I ran into you. Wasn’t paying attention – sorry, again.”

Suddenly, it all clicks. “You own The Bear.”

“Uh, yeah – yeah, I do.”

You feel nervous, out of the blue. Nan hadn’t stopped talking about the Berzatto’s, and Natalie had become a regular while the restaurant was being remodeled. You’re sure you’d seen other employees come in as well, for reading material. You vaguely remember talking to a very sweet man about baking, as he carried a ton of cookbooks in his arms.

You knew Carmen Berzatto, but only through the words of others – and the research you did late one night because you were nosey. To have him standing in the bookstore you worked at, for him to have gotten you milk, is sending you for a loop. Swallowing a lump in your throat, you begin to put the milk in their new home. You really need to call the refrigerator guy again.

“That’s so cool,” the words fall from your mouth, others staying in your head.

It's insane that someone like him is even speaking to you. He’s around the same age as you; He owns a restaurant and you’re barely able to run a tiny coffee bar in a bookstore. You’re an idiot who dropped milk onto the sidewalk. Why didn’t you just take the car? You should’ve just taken the car. Now Carmen fucking Berzatto has bought you milk at 5am because he feels bad for you. How pathetic. Call the fucking refrigerator guy.

“Thanks…for the milk.” You back away from the counter, gesturing behind you, “Lemme grab some money from the cash box real quick.”

“No, don’t worry about it.”

“It’s really fine, you didn’t have to go out of your way. I’ll be right back.” The itch creeps its way up your spine, and you push through the door as a shudder passes through you. You shake out the twitch, going and grabbing the cash box. You do mental math, trying to see how much you should give him. Did he even need the money? “Idiot,” you chide yourself. Today was not the day for your brain.

Snagging a twenty and a ten, you rush back out to the bar, only to find the store empty. A groan escapes through your teeth, and you clench the cash in your hands, crumpling it. You walk to the front door, peering out to see if you can spot the chef. He must’ve made a quick getaway. As you turn to get prepped for the day, you spot a brochure on the counter, far away from its home of the stand at the front of the bookstore. Eat Your Way Through Chicago!

Scribbled on the front is a phone number, and the words:

Fridge Ask for Fak Say Carm sent you

“Fucking fuck.” You whisper, a smile creeping on your face against your will, “Asshole.”

It’s later in the week when you hear the bell attached to the front door – ding! You poke your head up from where you're arranging some alternative milks under the counter, seeing a familiar blonde.

“Hey, Natalie!” You pop up, an easy grin appearing on your face. “Half-caff?”

She nods, “Please.”

“How are you?”

“Oh, you know.”

You ring her up quickly, then grab a pitcher to steam some milk for her latte. Natalie walks away from the counter to browse some books. The steam wand whirs, and you watch the vortex inside the pitcher. You touch the sides every so often, waiting for it to get to the right temperature. Making drinks is all muscle memory now, and you tamp the espresso grounds into the portafilter with precision. Wiping the excess from the lip, you lock it into the machine and press the shot button. As the shot pulls, you wipe down the steam wand with a wet cloth.

“Is this any good?” Natalie has come back over, holding up a book with a half-naked man on the front.

You laugh, “It’s a Nan recommendation, so…” The shots are poured into the paper cup, and you swirl the milk into it, doing a quick tulip design. You sprinkle a little cinnamon over the top, before placing it in front of the woman.

“Smutty then, for sure.” Natalie laughs, then does a little excited gasp when she sees the latte art. “It looks so good every time!”

“Thanks,” you reply, “Gets covered by the lid, but it’s fun to practice.”

“Too bad you don’t have for-here mugs,” she says thoughtfully.

“Ever the idea-haver! There'd be more spills to clean up – Nan would lose her mind if any books got ruined.” You point to the book still in her hand, “You want me to ring you up for that?” It was early enough in the afternoon that the only other person here was a part-timer, Jack, somewhere between the shelves stocking books. You had convinced Nan to upgrade to a different register system (which ended up saving money in the long run), so you’re able to ring up both books and café products at your register.

She shakes her head, sighing. “I barely have any time to read, these days. I was thinking about trying out audiobooks? I used to listen to them at my old job, but it’s way too loud in the kitchen for that to work out.” The latte goes to her mouth, a pleasant hum leaving her as she takes a sip. “You’re the best.”

“Thanks, Natalie.”

She squints at you, “It’s Nat, c’mon.” A big conspiratorial grin makes its way onto her face, “So, I heard that you got some help with your fridge.”

A sharp pain twists in your chest. “Oh, um…yeah.” You let out a soft chuckle, “It’s working, which is great. Neil was a big help.”

“He said you made him the best hot chocolate he’s ever had,” Natalie taps the counter with her pointer finger twice. “Said he didn’t know how you got his number, though.”

You shrug, wiping down the counter, “Nan had it. And the usual guy wasn’t calling me back.” Neil had told you the exact same thing, both about the drink and the number. Something had held you back from saying where you got the number from. Embarrassment, maybe? It felt weird, feeling like you owed anyone favors, or that things would be unbalanced. People usually never give without looking to receive.

“Frankie, right? He’s an asshole. Overcharges for everything.” Natalie doesn’t push you for answers, something you’re grateful for.

“Right! He disappeared one time and said he’d ‘be right back’ and then was gone for like, two hours! And he added that to his hourly!” The two of you giggle at the shittiness of people for a minute, when a ping causes Natalie to pull her phone from her pocket.

“I should run.” She reaches into her purse, and puts a five into your tip jar. “Thanks again!”

As she turns to go, you call out her name. “Would you - maybe - I have some extra muffins. The place we get them from gave us some of the wrong ones…or they’re a tad over baked, or something. I can’t sell them. Would you wanna take them with you?”

“That’s so sweet of you! Yeah, I’m sure they’ll get eaten up.”

You grab the box of muffins, handing them over to her, “Thanks.”

“Thank you, babe.” She leaves with a smile, and you look down to brush the flour off your apron.

“Hey, guys, I got some goodies!” Natalie sets the box of muffins on the table, where everyone is seated for family meal.

Neil immediately grabs the box, pointing to the sticker on the top, “You went to Nan’s? Man, I could use a hot chocolate right now.”

“I’m sure you can walk over there and order one, my love.” Natalie replies, waving for him to put the box back on the table.

Marcus snags two muffins, handing one to Sydney who is sitting on his right. Taking a bite, he stops chewing, eyebrows raised. “Dude,” he nudges the girl next to him.

“Dude,” Syd parrots, popping some muffin into her mouth. “Wait, woah.”

“That’s what I’m saying!”

“Nat, where did you get these?” Sydney calls to the woman now sitting at the end of the table. The muffins are passed down the rest of the table.

Marcus has started dissecting the muffin, “Macadamia nuts, sick.”

“Oh they’re from Nan’s just down the corner!” She tells them how you offered them to her since they were the wrong ones from a vendor and possibly over-baked.

Syd snorts, “Over-baked? These are perfect!”

“What’s perfect?” Carmy walks out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel.

“Bear, come eat!” Natalie waves him over, pulling him into the seat next to hers. “You’ve been at it all morning, take a minute, okay?” She gives him a look that tells him not to argue, and he huffs in response, but does as she says.

“What’s perfect?” He asks again, taking the muffin box from Sweeps as it’s passed to him. As the cinnamon crumble topping hits his taste buds, he leans back in his chair. “Shit.”

“That’s what we’re saying!”

Syd and Marcus begin talking over one another, the dull roar of family making its home in Carmy’s ears. He has another bite of muffin, thumb swiping over the sticker atop the box.

Nan’s Books & Brews

Simple lettering, surrounding a doodle of a coffee cup sitting on an open book.

“When did they,” he clears his throat as he leans closer to Nat, “when did they start doin’ stuff like this?”

Natalie purses her lips, “Not sure, honestly. They only had that small coffee machine and that plastic pastry case when we were growing up, remember? I think they added the actual coffee bar right before Covid?” Carmy nods, looking out the windows, a curdle in his stomach.

“A lot’s changed,” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” Nat sighs, a hand over her stomach, “a lot has.”

A few weeks go by, as uneventful as they can be. You try out more recipes, and the staff of Nan’s is always sent home with one treat or another. Muffins, cinnamon rolls, croissants (which were a bust), and the like. Natalie is still a regular, and Neil has shown up to save your ass more than once. The brochure with his number on it taunts you from where it’s stuck up on the corkboard in the back.

Which is what has led you to standing in front of The Bear, a joe-to-go in one hand, paper bag in the other. An envelope burns in the inner pocket of your flannel jacket. Steeling your nerves, you knock on the door. Some yells are heard from inside, nicknames getting passed around like it’s a holiday dinner. You see a man walk towards you, in a nice suit, and he opens the door.

“Can I help you?” It’s not said unkindly, but there’s a look in his eyes that’s making you nervous.

“Coffee delivery?” You say sheepishly, holding up the coffee traveler by its cardboard handle.

“Richie, who’s at the - hey!” Natalie immediately smiles when she sees you, and you sigh a breath of relief. Things were easy with her; she had this amazing way of comforting you without even trying.

“Hi,” you wiggle your fingers, still keeping hold of the objects in your hands. “Wanted to say thanks for all the help Neil’s been giving me, and when Nan found out, she insisted I bring over some coffee for the team, so…”

“You workin’ at Nan’s?” The guy - Richie - asks.

“For the past year or so, yeah.” You reply, thanking Natalie as she grabs the paper bag from you.

“Let them in, Richie, c’mon.” She presses on his chest, causing him to back up with his hands in the air. “Come in! I’ve been meaning to ask if you wanted to come by for a tour.” You follow behind her, taking in the layout of the place. It’s absolutely gorgeous, and a sense of awe falls over you. She has you set the coffee traveler on the bar, letting you take the paper bag from her hands. You pull out a cup holder with two cups in it.

“One half-caff french vanilla latte for you and…a hot chocolate for Neil.” As if by magic, Neil pops through the door to the kitchen.

“For me?!”

You chuckle as he pulls you into a hug. When he pulls away, he grabs his cup with a happy sound, rushing back into the kitchen when “Fak!” is yelled.

“The fuck Fak get a coffee for?” Richie frowns, causing you to bristle. Natalie swats at him, beginning to explain as you continue to walk around the restaurant. As you pass by a wood table, your fingers tap on it, the sound echoing in your ears. It sends a shiver through you, and a small smile appears on your lips.

Natalie calls out to you, tearing your gaze back to her. People have begun to swarm around the bar, placing food on it, and your coffee is suddenly surrounded by things that smell amazing. “Did you want to eat with us, babe?” Attention turns to you, and the itchiness in your limbs reappears with a vengeance.

A tall man, wearing a beanie, grins, “Hey, those muffins were amazing, by the way.”

You sputter, “Oh. Um—“

“Tell the chef, or baker — whoever,” he laughs at himself. “They were fire.”

Warmth rises in you, “Yeah, I’ll pass it on.”

“Babe, lunch?” Natalie says again, louder this time. More of the staff have begun digging into their meals.

“No, it’s okay!” The corner of your mouth curves up in a small smile, this one less genuine than before. You begin to back up towards the door, a gnaw of guilt in your gut as Natalie frowns.

“Cousin! Food!” Richie yells out, followed by laughter from everyone else.

“I’m coming!” A familiar figure bursts through the kitchen door, “You don’t gotta yell like an asshole.”

Carmen Berzatto stops in his tracks when he sees you; the envelope in your pocket burns hotter. You look down at your shoes, but they just remind you of the milk dripping down the sidewalk.

“Carm,” Natalie introduces you, “they work at—“

“Nan’s.” Everyone chimes in, and you have to stop yourself from flinching. You look over at Carmy, eyes meeting.

There’s a moment where you feel like you’re going to get swallowed whole. The pipes are going to burst and water will fill up the room and you’re going to drown.

You walked straight into a den of hungry beasts, and you’re just a measly rabbit.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” Natalie’s words are muffled in your ears, but you manage to shake your head.

“I have someone from books covering me, and they barely know how to work the espresso machine.” You force a laugh. It grates against your vocal chords. “It was nice meeting you guys, though.” With a meek wave, you turn on your feet and speed out the door. Rounding the corner, you keep walking until you’re sure they can’t see you. Veering into the alleyway behind the restaurant, you let out a shaky breath, leaning against the brick.

You press your thumb into the palm of your hand. Inhale, hold four seconds, exhale. Inhale, hold four seconds, exhale. It’s over before it starts, but your chest remains tight. A reminder, which will eventually dissipate once you're back in the shop.

The coffee bar, your shield; apron, your armor.

A door opening causes you to jump, startled. Your eyes meet blue, widening like you’ve been caught. “Sorry! I was just–” You push off the brick.

Carmen seems just as surprised as you, “No, s’fine.” He clears his throat, as the two of you settle into silence.

A fwip of a lighter. Four seconds. An exhale of smoke.

You’re unsure if you should leave, but it’s like the bottoms of your shoes are stuck to the ground. “Did you-” He starts, lifting up his hand that holds a lit cigarette.

You shake your head, “No, but - um, thanks.” Your fingers twitch, and you reach to pull the envelope from inside your jacket. Something that appears so insignificant, held out in the space between you. When he just stares, you wave it a bit, until he takes the envelope with his free hand.

“What’s this?”

“Cash, for the milk you bought.”

“You didn’t have to-“

“I did.” You bounce on your heels, “I should actually get going this time. Just wanted to give you that but…” He doesn’t respond, something you’re getting used to. You wonder where the man who rambled about reading with his sister at Nan’s went, but decide now is the best time to make your escape. As you start to walk toward the street, you turn, “The restaurant looks great, by the way. Good luck with the opening.”

“Good luck with the opening.”

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

"Let it rip, Bear."

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

“-a complete waste of fucking time.”

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

“I’m really sorry you feel that way, Carm.”

Natalie invites you to Friends & Family.

You don’t go.

The next month flies by. Marcus, Richie, and Syd have joined your little group of regulars. Richie even brings his daughter, Eva, whenever he’s able. She’s a joy and absolutely hilarious to have around. Richie has grown on you, the rough edges of him softening after a few cortados.

One night, he had rushed into the shop, Eva in tow, all but begging you to watch her for a few hours. He was supposed to be off for the day, to spend time with his daughter, but they’re understaffed at The Bear. A few weeks in, which confused you, but questions weren’t asked. You said yes - obviously - and had Eva help you with little things around the shop, until you close. The two of you bonded over a shared love of Taylor Swift while making muffins. By the time Richie came to pick her up, Eva was tuckered out in a loveseat, patchwork blanket tucked up to her chin.

“I owe you one,” Richie had whispered, holding his daughter in his arms.

You shook your head, “You deserve to have time with her.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes, “Yeah, bring it up with the Bear himself.”

You weren’t planning on it. The man is barely on your mind. Except for every time someone from The Bear walks in. They look drained, more and more each day. It’s a certain type of pain, to watch people – that once had so much life in them – lose the light that you felt so harshly the first time you walked into the restaurant. You hear inklings; mentions of a changing menu every night, nonnegotiables, and the like.

It worries you. It’s not your place - you’re more than aware of that. But you’ve come to care for these people. And by extension, some part of you wants to see how he’s doing. It’s an odd - biting -feeling. How strange it is, to know someone through everyone else’s eyes but your own. You have to fight back the urge to force yourself into the places you do not fit. You’re resigned to watching from afar, providing comfort behind your coffee bar. It’s what you’re good at. It might be all you're good at.

Some sick twist of fate decides to upturn it all one Friday night.

Carmy had stayed late, to nobody’s surprise. He’d been adjusting the menu, preparing it for tomorrow, when the flashes hit him. He decides to walk it off, popping another thing of nicotine gum into his mouth. He walks aimlessly, trying to push the overwhelming thoughts out of his head. The street is dark - most places being closed - but light pours onto the sidewalk, just a few feet ahead of him. Almost a reflex, he peers into the windows.

A laugh of disbelief - more a huff of air through his nose - leaves him.

You’re dancing, headphones over your ears, as you mix something in a large bowl. It’s unlike anything he’s seen - from you or otherwise. There’s a sense of freedom in your movements, so different from the few times he’d seen you before. The tightness in his chest lightens, some, at the sight of you so obviously in your element.

And you're looking right at him.

“Shit,” he mumbles. You tilt your head at him, doing a little wave. He lifts a hand in reply, and you point haphazardly at the door. Before he can respond, or walk away – anything, you’re heading around the counter. A click of the door unlocking, and you pull it open part way.

“Hey,” you say, a little loud. With a wince, you pull the headphones off to rest around your neck. Music can be heard – a muffled, upbeat song that he doesn’t recognize. “Hey,” you say again, quieter this time. Silence passes between you, and he watches your nose twitch. “…did you wanna?” You jut your thumb behind you. You’re almost unrecognizable from the first time you met, calmer, somehow.

“Yeah, sure.” The words come out, easier than he thinks, and slips through the door you hold open. You lock it behind him, turning back around to slide behind the counter.

You grab a muffin tin, beginning to fill each one with a scoop of the batter you had been mixing. You make quick work of it, pushing them into the small commercial oven, wiping your fingers on the towel that’s pulled through a loop in your jeans.

Leaning against the counter, you finally look at him, “Okay, Pick your poison.”

“What?”

“Coffee? Americano, latte, cappuccino?” It’s like you’re trying to read him, wanting to crack the spine of a book and see what’s inside.

“I don’t really do the…caffeine.”

You hum thoughtfully, tapping your fingers on the counter in some type of rhythm. “Can I make you something? Low-caffeinated, of course.” He nods. “Anything you hate?” A shake of his head.

You grab a cup and get to work. You’re singing under your breath - the song that’s playing from the headphones around your neck. With your eyes off of him, he takes a moment to actually observe the shop. Warm lighting, with dark wood bookshelves making it feel cozy without being too claustrophobic. There’s smaller tables, with different recommendations for certain genres. A sprinkling of string lights and hanging plants just adds to the homey feeling, one so different from the pristine, white kitchens he’s used to being in. So different from his own restaurant. The coffee shop portion is close to the front, dark marble countertops and a chalkboard menu - swirling letters describing monthly drink specials.

“Alright, order up,” you call out softly.

Carmy walks back up to the bar, eyeing the cup. Warmth presses into his skin as his fingers curl around it. You mention that it’s hot, to let it cool for a bit. Silence falls between the two of you - in a way he finds comforting. Your eyes flick between him and the counter you’re wiping down.

“Do you normally do this?” He asks.

“The making drinks thing, or the staying at the shop way too late thing?” You give a wry smile. “Could ask you the same.”

He scratches at his nose, “Noted.”

The minutes pass; you go about cleaning the shop, rinsing dishes and setting things up for the next day. It’s an art he’s well versed in. The muscle memory takes over for you, and Carmen becomes invisible. It feels nice, to just be in a place where nobody has anything to ask of him. He finally tries the drink. It’s good, milky, if a little sweet, but it eases the last of the sourness in his stomach away. A timer on your phone goes off, and you tug on a flowery oven mitt to pull the muffins out of the oven. Chocolate and spice invades his nostrils, soothing him even more. You grab one, hissing a bit since it’s hot, and put it on a plate, bringing it back over to him. Leaning over the bar, you reach for forks that are in a metal cup, right near Carmy. You’re close, with no care about being in his personal space. It’s only for a second, and then you’re back in your previous position.

“You can have some, as long as you promise not to be an ass about it.” You hold out a fork for him. The words cause him to cringe, but he takes the utensil from you.

He stares at the muffin, running his thumb on the underside of the fork. “How much trouble am I in?”

You shrink back a little, “W-what?”

He’s met you what - twice? Both times felt clunky, an awkwardness to the both of you. Here, it’s simpler. Under the cover of night, huh? A voice that sounds awfully like Mikey’s says in the back of his mind. His family won’t stop talking about you. Or drinking your coffee.

“The Bear,” he mutters. “They talk to you, right?”

You laugh, surprised. “Do you actually want to know?” You hold up a hand before he can reply, “Actually, no. They don’t talk to me. I see things, sure. But I’m not getting anyone in trouble with the boss.” You’re on the defensive, not even for yourself, but for his kitchen.

“They-They’re not in trouble.” One look from you and he deflates, sighing. “Okay, yeah. Just…just say something.”

“I haven’t even been to eat there.”

“You should come,” he says.

Another laugh - a scoff, more-like, “You think I could afford your place?” You bite your lip, pinching the bridge of your nose. After a moment, you continue, gently, “Do you have any fun?”

“Fun.” The word is like poison in his mouth.

“Yes, fun. I know that food service isn't the best, but it’s good to have fun, or to at least enjoy it.” You wave your hands around, “That family meal stuff you guys do? That’s so sweet, and you have a whole family unit going on in that kitchen, or whatever. If this restaurant is supposed to be the rest of your life, you should like it, at least a little bit, right?” Your torso melts into the counter, and you rest your head on your arm. “And like, maybe? Don’t change the menu every night, or something. It’s new, right? You gotta work out the kinks first before jumping in all-” you blow air out through your cheeks.

A beat of quiet, then, “The menu, huh?”

“Eleven thousand for butter?” You parrot back. At his frown, you hold up your hands, “I’m just a barista, what would I know?” You say it without heat, and yet he feels guilt crawl up his throat.

“That’s not-”

“I know, Carmen.” A sigh leaves your lips, “You asked, so I talked. Again, take everything with a grain of salt.” The words get softer, as if you’re talking more to yourself than to him, “Just remember who’s going down with you if it ends up crashing and burning.”

You stab your fork into the muffin, tearing it in half. He follows suit, lifting a bite of it to his lips. Spice floods his taste buds, and he grunts. You blink up at him, fork hanging from your mouth. He’s suddenly starving, and he eagerly gets himself another forkful. “S’good.” He mumbles through the food. Carmen watches as you process his words, pressing your lips together to hide a smile. You two finish the muffin, and there’s an ominous sense of peace that covers him like a blanket. “Thanks.”

“For yelling at you?”

Carmy lets the chuckle spill out, “If that’s what you call yelling…” He trails off, sobering, “Do you have fun?”

You hum, contemplating. “Yeah. I mean, it’s coffee, at the end of the day. It’s just nice to see people, to make their day a little better than it was. I like to try out new things, to create, to get recommendations.” You stop, seeing him staring at you, “What?”

“You’re different…from the other day, s’all.”

You’re perplexed, scrunching your nose, “Well I had a bad day, the first time. And I don’t do…well, with new people.”

“Unless you’re behind the counter.”

Your eyes widen, something flickering behind them, like he’s seen something you didn’t want him to. “Touche.” Checking your phone, you clear your throat, “Alright, we should probably get out of here if we want any semblance of sleep.” He follows your lead, as you flick off the lights, throwing you backpack over your shoulder. He waits while you lock the front door, small key dangling on a keychain. You turn, looking at him, before holding out a paper bag, “Muffin for the road?”

He grabs it, an odd feeling bubbling in his chest, “Oh - uh, thanks.”

You suddenly look sheepish, fiddling with the strap of your bag, “And if you’re out late again, feel free to stop by. If you need a break, or something.” A beat. “Oh, again, take what I said with a grain of salt, yeah? Just - maybe - try to take care of yourself a little.” You laugh nervously, and Carmy sees the truth of his earlier observation. You’re still more relaxed, but the nerves have crept in as you step outside your comfort zone. Something he knows all too well. “Anyways, have a good night - morning.” You shake your head, blowing a raspberry through your lips.

“Night. Get home safe.” He murmurs. You turn on your heel, walking down the street. He tightens his grip on the paper bag.

Take care of yourself.

At least enjoy it.

You should like it, at least a little bit, right?

Carmy doesn’t know if he truly remembers what liking cooking is like. He’s found little bits of it, in moving back home. In Marcus’ eyes as he creates something new. In Syd’s determination to make amazing food. There’s a passion there that he’s lost somewhere along the way.

He sees it in you, and it calls out to him - the tide being pushed and pulled by the moon. A curious feeling, gnawing at his stomach. A hunger for something he can’t make sense of, but he pulls the muffin out of the bag to eat on his walk home.

Carmy keeps showing up at Nan’s, usually late at night. You didn’t expect him to take you up on your offer, yet a smile graces your lips every time he does.

He was right, when he said you feel most comfortable behind the counter. You knew it, but having someone else acknowledge it felt…weird. Like you weren’t playing your part right. Yet it also felt good, to be seen.

Conversation between the two of you still feels stilted, occasionally, but you find comfort in the quiet moments. And the not-so quiet ones; with music playing at just above a reasonable level, you mouthing the words as you dance around behind the bar. The mask slowly slides off when he comes around, and it’s easier to be goofy.

You think it surprises him. He’s not quite sure what to do, when you’re cruising on the linoleum tile you call a dance floor. But he never tells you that you’re weird, or too much. You’ve maybe even seen him bite back a smile. You swear there’s dimples hiding somewhere — a fleeting thought that you let fly away before you linger on it too long.

“What do you think?” You’ve turned the music down, notepad on the counter, your favorite pen in hand. You click it a few times, sound satisfying the little itch in the back of your brain.

“Not sure if I’m a matcha fan,” Carmy murmurs. You nod, writing down his response onto the paper. It’s almost filled — you’ll have to turn to the next page soon — with different drinks you’ve had Carmy try, determined to find the right one. He’s harder to pin than others, something you’re not necessarily surprised by.

That's partially on you. You're unsure of how much to ask. How much could you poke the both metaphorical and literal Bear until it breaks? You've been enjoying your time, but you've yet to ask him how work is going. He doesn't ask you about your personal life, so why would you ask about his?

There's a curiosity there, though. To see what makes Carmen Berzatto tick. You fear the two of you might be a little too similar.

You turn to go back to cleaning your mess — the reason being a fresh tray of cookies cooling on the counter, when he says your name. “Did you get a new tattoo?”

Gaze flashing to the wrap you have on your arm, peeking out from the sleeve of your shirt, you turn bashful. “Oh,” you hum, “I did. It’s been on my list for awhile. I’m keeping it wrapped at work while it heals - god knows I spill everything all over myself.”

“Can I — What did you get?” He’s just as sheepish as you, a boyish glow about him. You’d never talked about tattoos before. His evidence is on his arms; yours are mostly concealed — easy to hide with the oversized button downs and jeans you wear.

You pull your phone from your back pocket, “Here, I’ll pull up a photo of it.” Placing your phone on the counter, Carmy grabs it, zooming in on the two-headed calf that’s found its home on your bicep. The tattoo is fresher in the photo, line work popping out against your skin. “The longest living two-headed calf lived 17 months. Her name was Gemini — a little on the nose, I think. There’s also this poem by Laura Gilpin, that just kinda struck me.” Your ramble tumbles off, a half smile pulling at your lips. “It’s sad, but the kind that makes you hurt in a nice way? If that even makes sense.” You wave a hand around, then reach to take a sip from his cup.

The matcha settles the nerves hiding under your skin, the earthy flavor dancing on your tongue. As you set the cup back on the counter, you point at his hand, “What’s that stand for?” Your own fingers twitch, fighting the urge to brush them across his own. “S.O.U?”

“Ah, sense of urgency.” He says, fiddling with your phone.

You laugh, quickly covering it with a hand, “Sorry, I — sorry, that just makes so much sense.” Before he can speak, you shake your head, “Not in a bad way, necessarily. It’s just so obvious how little work-life balance you have.”

“We’re literally at your shop in the middle of the night.” Carmen huffs exasperatedly, corner of his mouth curling up.

You hold your hands up, conceding, “Okay, I get it. Misery loves company - or whatever. God, we’re both crazy, aren’t we? We should get out more.”

He hums in response, tapping his phone twice to check the time. Anxiety swells up in your throat, and there’s something biting at your heels. The silence doesn’t feel comfortable anymore.

You said something wrong, the little voice in your head whispers. You lost the script and got too close and now he’s pulling back. How can you fix it? You have to fix it.

“What’s your favorite one?” His blue eyes glance up at you. Invisible hand squeezing your lungs, you stammer, “Tattoo. What’s the one you like most?”

His words come out softly, “A house boat. I, uh, got it before leaving Copenhagen. I stayed in one while I was over there, and put out water for an invisible cat.” Relief floods you as he talks. It’s the most he’s spoken about anything, and you see a glimmer behind his eyes.

It feels a little too close to home.

“You really loved it over there, huh?”

As if caught, he clears his throat, “It was cool…different.”

Different from Chicago, you don’t say. “I get that,” you murmur instead.

You knew what it was like, to run away. The need for escape pushing you into flight as the metaphorical dog chases the rabbit.

You wonder what Carmen’s dog was. Or is. If it’s even a dog at all.

“What about you? What’s your favorite?”

You’re pulled from your thoughts. “Oh! Um, it’s silly.” You worry at your bottom lip.

“You don’t—”

“No, hold on, it’s just,” you push yourself onto the counter with the palms of your hands. Carmen leans back as you swing your legs over the bar, letting your feet rest on the barstool next to him. You lean over, pulling up your pants leg to show the tattoo on the right side of your calf. He stares at it for a moment, confusion clear in his gaze. “See, I told you.”

“Is it a moth, or something?”

“Moth-man, Carmen. Mothman.”

“Am I supposed to know what that is?”

“He’s a cryptid. There’s literally stories of a Chicago Mothman.” He peers up at you in amusement, causing you to scrunch your face at him. “I swear on my life Carmen Berzatto, don’t be an asshole.”

“I’m not.” He laughs, and your chest loosens. You got Carmen Berzatto to laugh. “It looks good, the style is nice,” he gestures to your leg.

You smile, “Thanks.”

Nodding, he goes to sip from his cup. He makes a face, pulling it away from him, “Yeah, I don’t like this.”

He holds it out to you as you reach for it, laughter spilling from your lips, “More grass for me.” You drink, and let the cup rest on your thigh, fingers tapping on the plastic lid.

“I’m not…” Your head turns to look at him, watching as he runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not really good at this.”

“...at what?” You whisper, scared if you talk any louder you’ll scare him away.

“Talking? Not working? Who the fuck knows,” his hand leaves his hair and passes over his face.

“I’m not either, really.” You pick at your jeans, “But we’re trying, right? You come by more than I thought you would.”

“Really?”

You snort, “Dude, the first time I was surprised you even came in.” Gently, you add, “And you don’t have to be perfect at conversation to be friends with someone.” His eyes meet yours as you nudge his shoulder with your knee. “I’m weird, you’re weird, that’s okay.”

Carmen rolls his eyes good naturedly. His legs are bouncing, and you can almost see him chewing the word around before it finally leaves, “Friends?”

“Friends.” You affirm. Silence passes between you, until a growl comes from your stomach.

The man laughs, looking all the prettier for it, “You hungry?”

“Starving,” you groan.

He gets up from his seat, grabbing his denim jacket that’s hung over the chair on his left, “C’mon.”

It takes a moment, but it clicks. “Oh my god,” you gasp out, hopping off the counter. With a speed you only have during a lunch rush, you run to the back. You untie your apron, hang it up on a hook, and grab your tote bag. “Wallet, keys, phone…phone!”

“Out here!” Carmen yells. You grin, rushing back out to the front, bouncing on your heels. “You good?”

“As I’ll ever be.” You shake your keys with enthusiasm. He laughs as you both leave, and you turn to lock up. There’s excitement buzzing through you, like caffeine would if your brain weren’t wired a bit funky. A thought cuts through the haze, “Oh shit, I forgot to–”

“I got the trash.” The street lights reflect off his blue eyes.

Your heart twinges a little, “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He gestures with his head, “Now let’s go before your stomach eats itself.”

“Hey Carm?!”

The man pokes his head into the office, one hand wrapped around the door, “Yeah, what?”

Natalie raises an eyebrow, “You busy?”

Carmy scoffs, “Yeah, Sugar, I’m busy.”

It’s lunch time. Marcus has pastries, Tina’s running prep. Syd is around…avoiding him. He tries not to think about it for too long. Richie is who knows where.

Fuck, don’t be an asshole, asshole.

Deflating, he asks, “What’s up? Everything okay?”

“I’m spending my hour of alone time figuring shit out here, while Pete watches the baby.” His sister sighs, glancing down at the paperwork on the desk, “I’m managing. Anyways, that’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

He wants to ask about the baby. His niece. But Natalie barrels over the topic to say, “Were you here late the other night?” He must have made a face because Natalie sighs, exasperated. “I know you stay later than everyone else, doing god knows what, but I got a notification on my phone the other night-“

“What notification?”

She rolls her eyes, “The alarm system, dummy. I get alerts.”

“No, yeah, I get that. But I turned it off.”

It could only be from the other night, when he brought you back to the restaurant. He’s not sure why he did — he almost had a panic attack in front of you while debating what to make. It's strange, how much an environment can affect someone. Nan's feels so comfortable to him now, like nothing can happen to him when he's in those four walls. Where was the last place he felt like that?

You don’t need to impress anyone, Carmen. It’s just me, you had said.

Simple words that cut through him like a knife. You asked for comfort food, so he made you grilled cheese with tomato soup. The little dance you did every time you took a bite relit a fire inside of him that had been burnt out by years of working in kitchens.

“I know. I’m asking because the alarm was set, and then you turned it off again a few hours later.” Natalie unlocks her phone, showing him her screen that has some app pulled up with timestamps on it. “Are you sleeping? Look, I know things aren’t great right now—" Natalie cuts herself off with another sigh.

“It’s fine. Things are fine.” At her pointed look, he holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m working on it, okay? Just…are you good? Do you need anything?”

“About 48 hours of interrupted sleep would be great.” Her gripe falls off into a laugh, which he returns.

Stepping into the room further, he pulls the door closer, just a slim crack of clean white light coming through. “I’ve been a shitty brother lately.”

“No…” Natalie snorts, “Okay yeah, a bit. I love you, though.”

He mumbles the words back, tapping out a rhythm on his thigh, “Maybe I could come by, sometime. See the baby.” It’s a blessing and curse how his chest aches when he sees the way her eyes light up.

“I’d love that, Bear.”

“Yo, delivery!” Marcus yells out, pulling the attention of the Berzatto siblings.

“The fuck?” There isn't supposed to be a delivery today.

Natalie gets out of her seat, “Oh thank god.” She ushers Carmy out of the office, pushing past him into the dining room. He follows after her, confused, only to stop in his tracks.

You’re here.

You stand next to Richie, talking animatedly, albeit shy. You’re wearing clothes he doesn’t regularly see you in, the worn denim jacket catching his eye in particular. It’s clear that you aren't working, yet you hold two cups from Nan’s in your hands, a few drink carriers littering a table.

“You’re literally my savior, thank you.” Natalie pulls you into a hug, and you look at Richie with wide eyes. Carmy has to hold back a snort at your expression.

“You should expect this reaction by now, kid.” Richie takes a sip from his drink when you gape at him in exaggerated outrage.

“Shut up, Richie,” Natalie is barely paying attention, saying the words more out of habit. Grabbing a cup from a drink holder, she says, “You’re coming home with me.”

Giggles bubble from your lips, and you go to cover them with the back of your arm. There’s a pull Carmy feels, instinctual, to urge your arm away from your face and hear your genuine laughter fill the room.

Your eyes meet his, finally noticing that he’s there. The smile you give him is earnest, a gentle hello without words. He forces his feet to move, closing the distance. Carmy blatantly ignores the looks both Richie and Natalie are making. You hold out the cup in your hand - the one you weren’t drinking from - and he takes it from you.

Condensation clings to the sides, his name hastily written on the side.

⋆⁺Carmy!⁺˚⋆

There’s a heart in place of the dot at the bottom of the exclamation point, little stars doodled around his name. His stomach flips.

“Iced?” He swirls the drink in hand, mixing it up.

You shrug, “Thought I’d try something different. It’s hot outside.”

“You off?” Bringing the straw to his lips, he hums at the taste. You’re watching him eagerly, head tilted to the side as you wait for his review. “This is nice.”

Squinting at him, you huff, “Not perfect, though.” You type something into your phone — most likely to add to your notebook later. “Had to run some more syrup by the shop. Saw Natalie’s car on the street so I texted her to see if she wanted something to drink. I have errands to run after this.”

“You a regular too now, Cousin?” Richie barks, and Carmy watches as you remember where you are. Who you’re with.

A protectiveness rises up in Carmen, hating the way you recoil into yourself. “Fuck off, Richie.” He looks over at you, “Hungry?”

“Dude, we got shit to do.”

“Richie!” Natalie hisses at the older man, shoving him back toward the kitchen. She calls back to you, “Thanks for the coffee! I promise I’ll come by when I feel more like a human again.”

The customer service clicks into place behind your eyes, “Take care of yourself! Hope the baby is doing well!” Once it's just the two of you, you sigh, knocking the heels of your boots together. “I should get going.”

Carmen nods, “Can I grab you a sandwich, first?”

“Grilled cheese?” You tease, stifling a smile.

He huffs, shaking his head, “Nah, but Ebra’s got window right now. I could throw something together real quick.”

“You don’t have to do that.” He glances down; you’re pressing your thumb into the middle of your hand. It's uncanny, the semblance of himself that is mirrored in you.

“I know.” He wants to, though. “Give me five minutes?”

A moment of hesitation, then, “Okay.”

“Cool.” And he’s off.

Chaos erupts the minute he’s back in the kitchen.

“Since when did the two of you become buddy-buddy?”

“Can we please get back to work? Richie, respectfully, what are you doing back here?” Syd is working on pasta, flour covering her work service.

“I got shoved outta my space, so here I am,” Richie waves his hands around.

The overlapping voices turn into white noise, and Carmy inhales sharply, “Fak!”

“Yes, chef!” Neil appears out of nowhere. Sometimes Carmen thinks there’s a series of underground passages that makes it so easy to get ahold of him. It’s not that crazy of a notion.

“Go and say hello to them, okay? I’m gonna throw together something, give it to them, and then I’ll be right back.” The last part is meant for everyone to hear, but is pointed more toward Richie. “Seriously, just leave it, alright?”

“I’m leaving it,” Richie snarks, but nudges Fak with his elbow. “Think there’s a drink out there with your name on it anyway. Snag me another one of those apple-donut-things too, eh?”

“Fritters!” Marcus calls out from his station.

Carmy sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s queasy; he’ll have to take some pepto later.

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

Let it rip, Bear.

Neil barrels into you, wrapping you in a hug. He talks your ear off for the next couple minutes; you smile when you need to, laugh when you remember.

The yells from the kitchen are playing on repeat in your ears.

They’re talking about you.

The urge to flee tickles the back of your throat. You thought it would be nice to stop by and bring Natalie a coffee, but then you had felt bad about not bringing anything for everyone else, which turned into you jumping behind the bar to make ten drinks. It’s not like you were going to make Morgan, the barista on shift, make them all.

You always had a hard time not working on your days off.

“You should absolutely come!”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” You reply, still not fully checked back into your conversation with Neil.

He smiles, “Great! I’ll send you the info!”

Before you can ask what you actually agreed to, Carmy pushes back into the room, to-go container in hand. “Hey, uh, Fak, can you go take a look at the toilet for me?” You barely notice Neil leave, focusing more on how your chest releases as Carmen walks closer to you.

He hands you the container, and you murmur a soft, “Thank you.”

“I’ll walk you out, yeah?”

The thought is nice. Glancing behind him, you see Natalie and Richie watching through the window. “It’s okay, you really don’t have to.” You take a step back just as Carmy reaches out to you. You can’t run, they’d see you. Ask questions. They probably see a caged animal.

“Hey,” he whispers your name, “it’s just me.” He’s repeating the words you said to him the night you were here. You tear your eyes away from the kitchen, looking at him. “Lemme walk you out?”

With a nod, you let him guide you out the front door. The warm summer air washes over your skin, and you take in a deep breath. You count the lines in the sidewalk as you pass them, sipping at your iced latte. “It was cool of you to come by,” Carmy says. “And your jacket’s dope.”

He’s trying to make you feel better.

“Did you just say dope?” You peek over in his direction, catching his shrug. “You’re so old.”

“Fuck off,” he laughs, and your smile widens.

You make it to your car, a little thing that has a new problem every other week. It’s been with you for years, moved with you to five different states. More of a sentimental object, than a real mode of transportation. You mostly used CTA these days if you were able, but it was nice to have a car for when you’re running errands all around the city.

“Sorry if they bothered you,” he apologizes, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“No, no, no,” you push out the words, throat tightening, arms hugging your middle. “I thought I was going to try to be a human today. May have jumped the gun on that one.” Fiddling with your keys, you continue, “It was nice to see you. Thought you might be a vampire or something, since I only ever see you at night.”

The joke causes Carmy to roll his eyes, “Is that considered a cryptid?”

You perk up at the word, “Oh, don’t get me started.”

He smiles big enough for his dimple to appear, “Oh, yeah?”

“Unless you want me to talk for hours on end. I’ll make a power-point presentation and everything.” You might already have one in the works, but he didn’t need to know that.

“You could - I mean, it wouldn’t bother me. If you did, you know?”

You blink a few times, frozen in shock. He looks shy, almost. Like the first time you met him, but there’s something between you now. A plant that will keep growing - might even bloom - if the two of you keep watering it. He keeps pecking away at your carefully crafted walls that let people see exactly how much you want them to.

Carmen Berzatto keeps seeing you. Whoever that is.

He coughs, scratching the side of his head. “I’ll see you later?”

“You know where I’ll be.”

“Yeah.”

You walk around to the driver’s side of your car, opening the door. You slide in, turning the key to let your car sputter to life. You roll the windows down, and music starts to blare from your speakers. “Kick ass tonight!” You yell the words as you pull away from the curb. You spare a glance in your rearview, watching Carmy wave before he starts walking back to his restaurant.

When you're parked outside your apartment, it hits you. You dig into your tote bag, pushing aside old receipts, chapstick tubes, and fidget toys. You cheer to yourself as you pull your notebook out, favorite pen hooked over the cover. Flipping to the back, you stare at the list of drinks you've had Carmy try.

You think you want to keep seeing him, too. Whoever that is.

You scribble at the bottom of the page, circling it twice.

Spiced Chai ~ HOT, xtra cinn

#carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear fanfic #neurodivergent!reader #— moth writes

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scudslut · 9 months ago

Text

ahhh yes yes, I haven’t written him too subby on here yet so I was super excited to write this❤️ I hope you like it @darylsgirl23 <3

Heartsease

Daryl x f!reader

Setting: Bridge Camp/Post Savior War

Wordcount: 2.6k

Warnings: 18+, softdom reader, unestablished relationship (but both know there’s a little somethin somethin iykwim), aka your his and everyone knows it, oral (m - receiving), unprotected piv, premature finish

Daryl was never one to keep still.

It made him anxious to be in one place for too long, always going on runs and patrols ensuring his people were as safe and provided for as they could be. He felt at ease outside the walls, out of people's prying gazes, and left alone to do his part for the community in peace. These days though, he was a flurry of activity. Hardly ever in the same spot long enough to see the sun rise and set again.

You knew he felt guilty - that he was angry and didn't know how to release it. You'd watch him work on the bridge for hours, frustration seeping out of his bones and into the atmosphere around him. It hung off him like a phantom.

The vast majority of the community was intimidated by it. They would walk on eggshells in his presence as if they could predict an oncoming outburst. But you knew better, you knew him.

He was angry at the world, yes. But he was distraught with himself... his own mind. It ran a mile a minute and gave absolutely zero reprieve. Anyone could see that if they dug just a bit deeper, looked at him a little closer.

Sure he was strong and burly; a true beast of a man, but he was also quiet and thoughtful. He cared so deeply about others that it frightened him to his core. All he wanted was to protect his family and do right by them.

And you saw all of that.

You had for years now and it only made your desire for him stronger. You wanted to thank him. Drop down to your knees and worship every freckle and scar that made him, him. He deserved it, deserved an escape.

Initially, you thought maybe he wasn't into that and preferred to keep his relationships asexual, to which you were perfectly happy to abide by. Any time spent with him was cherished time in your eyes. But during a sleep-deprived chat with Carol one night on patrol, long ago, you had found out he did have a few sexual encounters before the apocalypse. Just none that had truly meant much to him, or that he was entirely sober for.

That small bit of insight helped you understand the man so much more and you carefully dropped your hints from that point on. However, with your luck, every time you thought something might happen between you two, the moment would slip right through your aching fingers, dusted away by whatever imminent danger lurked behind each corner.

To be quite honest, you were getting fed up with the world's continuous cruel jokes, and from the looks of things, Daryl could use a healthy distraction right about now.

Ears perking at the familiar rumble you'd grown to love, you watched as he pulled up on his trusty, beaten-up Nighthawk, finally returning from a longer visit at Hilltop. You could see the sheen layer of sweat built up above his furrowed brows, his teeth nibbling away at his lower lip - an anxious habit you had picked up on mere days after meeting him.

His mind was bothering him. That much was clear.

He shuffled quickly to his tent, gaze transfixed on the muddy shoes he wore, avoiding any onlookers who wanted to ask their silly questions, throwing the flaps open, and disappearing in a fluster.

You knew better than to bother him now, give him some time to gather his thoughts and decompress. You whittled away at your spears, biding the time as you devised a plan on how you would approach him. After all, the last thing you wanted was to scare him off or embarrass him in any way. He was reserved when it came to these situations, unsure of himself. The few times you had brushed lips or touched him a bit heatedly, he was jumpy and almost insecure, as if he needed instructions on how he should behave. It was extremely endearing to you; like a stray pup who just needed a little reassurance and affection to calm his fierce walls of doubt.

It was almost dusk when you finished with your spears, gathering them up and placing them near some of the other weapons the community used when needed. You scanned the grounds, noticing everyone collected by the fire, dishing up for a late dinner. You quickly made your way over, grabbing two portions and slipping away before you were noticed and stopped for conversation. You knew Daryl wouldn't get one for himself, spew some excuse that 'he wasn't hungry' or was 'too tired' when really, he just didn't want to take away from another. Even if that meant he didn't eat or drink anything for days at a time. It made your heart blister for more reasons than one.

You balance both plates on your left arm, reaching to pull the flaps open slowly, not wanting to startle him with your arrival, "Dar? You asleep?" you whisper into the dim den.

You hear a grunt, some shuffling, and in a moment a soft glow fills the area as he lights a nearby lamp, perching up on his small cot, "I was."

Flicking off your boots, you zip the entrance closed behind you, "I brought you some dinner, figured you'd be hungry after your trip," You smile and he mutters a quiet thanks, opting to accept your kind offer rather than argue with you, he knew you wouldn't take no for answer anyway. He scoots to the side, creating a spot for you to sit while you two eat in comfortable silence. He liked that you didn't feel the need to fill the air, that you could simply enjoy each other's company without all the small talk. You were one of the few people he'd met in his life, who just inherently understood him, down to the most basic level. He hated leaving you all the time like he had been, just another thing to nag at his over-exhausted mind.

Hearing him sigh quietly, you cast your eyes over, watching as he scrapes up the remaining crumbs off his plate, placing it outside the tent along with yours for you both to deal with in the morning.

"I imagine your pretty tired, huh?" You ask, following his movements as he plops down again beside you.

"Nah, not really. Got a few hours 'fore ya came bustin' in here," he grumbles with a small smirk and you lean into him nudging his shoulder playfully. "Why ya wanna chat or somethin'?"

You consider him for a minute, trying to find the proper words to initiate what was truly on your mind. You knew you had no reason to be nervous. That even though you'd never labeled anything between you guys, you both felt it. Knew it was there. You just needed the right moment. Now was as good a time as any, you figured.

"No, I just- I wanna try something."

He nods his head for you to continue, so you scoot closer, placing your hand delicately on his shoulder and bringing your face centimeters from his. You stop just before you close the gap, gauging his reaction. His breath hitches slightly and you feel his pulse rapid under your fingertips, but he doesn't pull away. Taking that as the only confirmation you'll get, you press your lips to his softly, brushing your thumb against his stubbly, pink cheek. He takes a good minute to respond, carefully moving his lips back against yours and placing his hands on your hips. You feel him squeeze, eliciting a quiet moan of encouragement from you and he all but sinks into your touch, falling into a comfortable rhythm with your lips. You stay like that for a while, breathing in his piney scent and relishing in his gentle kneads at your waist. It wasn’t much to the untrained eye, but you knew that was his way of pouring his affection into you without so many words. His way of telling you he was yours.

You drag your kisses down his neck, nibbling and sucking at the salty flesh between his collarbones. His breaths grow uneven and you can feel him begin to tense again, unused to such personal attention, "Is this okay?" You ask, not wanting to push him past his boundaries. He only nods in response, his throat feeling like the Sahara.

He has to admit, he's thought about this many times, relieved himself to thoughts of you too many times to count over the years. He's just never known how to approach you about it, scared you'd reject him or he'd do something wrong.

He watches as you slip to your knees before him, your eyes glued to his. "You'll let me know if you want me to stop, yeah?" As he tries to nod in response again, you stop him, "I need you to say it to me," You press.

"Y-yea, I'll say somethin'," he whispers timidly and you grin, beginning to unbuckle his belt and slip his raged jeans down. You kiss down his strong thighs, feeling them tremble slightly beneath you. His hard-on is poking through his boxers and you drag your lips across it, placing soft pecks down the length of him, listening to his breathy pants. You didn't realize how turned on you'd be, having him all flushed and needy for you, but god were you enjoying it. Slipping your fingers into the waistband, you tug them down and his cock springs free, precum leaking from the pretty, pink tip.

"You dun have'ta," he mutters, anxiety sweeping over him fast, even though he really, really does want to. You catch his gaze, noticing how dark his stormy eyes have gotten.

"Let me take care of you, sweetheart," you reply, pressing soft kisses from the base to tip, feeling him pulse under your touch. You enclose your mouth around him, taking almost his entire length at once and you hear a guttural groan from above you, his knuckles white from the clutch they had on the bedsheets.

You wondered if he had ever had a woman go down on him before. Judging by the gasps and twitches he was emitting, if he had, it hadn't been for a very long time.

He bucks into you, searching in a daze for more friction, and you pin his hips down, earning a deep whine from him. You knew if he wanted to, he could easily overpower you, use your mouth to his heart's content, but he wouldn't. He wanted you to take charge. Needed it.

Raking your eyes over his heaving figure, you slide your tongue along his shaft, moving in slow, sensual circles as you bob up and down. Daryl's head is tossed back, eyes screwed shut and you can tell he won't last much longer. The sensitivity of not being touched in so long, sprinting towards him at full speed. You pull back, slowing your movements. He lifts his head off the wall, pale blue eyes blown to darkness as he watches you take him so sweetly, "Please," He whispers.

When you shake your head, humming a soft, "Not yet," as best you can around him, his eyes roll back into his skull, entirely overwhelmed by the overstimulation, but loving it nonetheless. "I-I can't," He gasps, his accent muddled even stronger in his lustful state. You have to squeeze your legs tighter, clenching around nothing hearing your man so utterly wrecked beneath you. You want to draw it out for hours. Have him begging you to let him cum down your awaiting throat. However, you decide you both have waited damn long enough to prolong your union even more.

Releasing him with a soft kiss to his leaking tip, you stand in front of him, shimmying out of your clothes as quickly as you can. "Lay down for me, baby,' You direct, moving the straddle him as he eagerly follows your orders, turning lengthwise on the makeshift bed. His eyes never leave yours as you sit down on him, groaning when he feels how wet you are pressed against his cock. "Have you thought about this before, pretty boy?" His cheeks flush crimson at your sultry compliments, nodding curtly whilst avoiding your stare.

"Dar." You press.

You were being so gentle yet stern with him it was making it brain fuzzy, all stressors from the day long washed away to be replaced by only you.

"Have, yeah," He huffs in embarrassment, trying with great difficulty not to portray how truly turned on your words were making him. But you saw right through him... or rather felt him. You lean forward, kissing and nipping up his neck to the shell of his pink ears, "Do you want me to stop?"

A full-body shiver jolts through him when he feels your warm breath against his ear, involuntarily rolling his hips into yours and you chuckle at his obvious sensitivity. He knows he needs to use his words. You won't be letting him off that easy. "Please don't," Is all he manages and it seems to do the trick. You grip his length, tracing it along your soaked folds, and slowly sink down. Your careful as you take in his reaction, scanning his expression for any signs of discomfort. He bites his lip, his eyes squeezed shut and lets out a muffled groan.

"Fuck," He mumbles, and you're surprised to hear him say anything you didn't need to pry out of him. A positive sign, you determined and start to bounce your hips slowly, creating a synchronized dance between your bodies. Your body is buzzing as you ride him, finally feeling the dull ache you’ve had for the man below you begin to dissipate as he whimpers oh so softly for only you to hear. His hands grip your waist hard enough to leave bruises to find in the morning, but you hardly give it a second thought. All you can think about is Daryl. His closeness, his warmth and strength, and-

He tenses beneath you, broken gasps leaving his chewed lips and suddenly he’s lifting you off of him, soaking your thighs and abdomen completely. You gawk as you watch him come down, sworn you haven’t ever seen something so fucking sexy in your life. His head tossed back, jumbled curses leaving his mouth, and dark auburn hair dripping with sweat. You don’t care that he finished before you, this was about him. But you see his eyes snap to yours when he fully comes back down to reality, cheeks blazing for a different reason than before.

Leaning towards him, you capture his lips with your own, tenderly pouring your affection into him, needing him to know you weren’t upset, “It’s okay, relax,” you whisper against him with a soft smile, leaning your forehead onto his. His eyes are filled with guilt, “I mean it, Dar,” And he’s back to his nods of response.

He didn’t need any more words of sympathy. He knew you were happy as a kid on Christmas, he just needed to accept it for himself. So with one last peck to his cherry lips, you slide off him, grab a rag to clean yourself up with, and scoot right in beside him, craving his warmth. He turns to you quickly, grabbing your waist and pulling you impossibly closer to him, burying his head into the crook of your neck. You feel a few soft pecks from him along your jaw and you sigh contentedly, wrapping your limbs around his, reeling in your post-coital glow.

You were safe, snuggled with your love, and that was all you needed.

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #norman reedus #norman reedus smut #twd drabbles #daryl dixon smut #daryl x reader #fem!reader #sub!daryl #subdom #dom fem reader #smut

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writing-fanics · 9 months ago

Text

More Than Anything

Lucifer Morningstar x F!Reader

[summary: final battle lives lost but the show must go on!]

Masterlist > chapter I > chapter ii > chapter iii > chapter iv

[a/n: since it’s technically been a month Lucifer and Y/n’s relationship has blossomed but not into a romantic one just yet. Just maybe the occasional flirting but I will have flashbacks to moments to have it not feel rushed.]

[also y/n likes making cursed animal combinations like a dolphin with wings.. being in hell for a month has brought her out of her shell so much she’s much happier. also the reader is whatever height you are, but to me she's slightly taller than Lucifer. sorry if this seems rushed.. its alot of work y/n trained with vaggie in weapon combat. she also kinda had help from lucifer. if ya'll want I'll write another side chapter about what lucifer and her did in combat..]

word count: 3,789 {6-7 pages)

[warning: major spoilers for episode 7-8: mentions of sex: slight smut in the end (full poorly written smut in side chapter): death spoilers:

song

[Y/n] helped prepare the hotel while Charlie and Vaggie were out, she still couldn't help but think that if it all were to end tomorrow. Should she confess her feelings to Lucifer. She tried but failed weeks ago, and now with extermination day being 24 hours away. But even then would it even matter, if she did? If they were going to die what's the point? But then..

"Ugh, why do feelings have to be so complicated?!" She groaned to herself, as she helped fortify the hotel. In her own thoughts. Yet, she remembered how awkward Lucifer was acting this morning when they were eating breakfast. It could've been because of extermination day in the next 24 hours or maybe something else?

"A-Are you okay?" She asked worriedly, at Lucifer. Who scoffed in response and smiled nervously, "Y-Yeah, I'm alright fine perfectly fine." He sweats, as he looked at her nervously.

He watched as she left the manor to go help his daughter and the hotel prepare, and cursed to himself.. God, he was absolutely infatuated with her and couldn't even confess his feelings, for her. What if she dies? No don't think that he couldn't even bare the thought of losing her again.

He reached into his pocket and revealed the rubber duck with butterfly wings, and started at it softly.

[ Flashback ]

[Y/n] bit down on her lower lip, as she tried to make her first rubber duck. Squinting her eyes as she tried, to attach some butterfly wings. She smiled, jumping out of her chair in her guest room and ran down the hallway. She bursts into the room,“Lu, I did it!” She exclaimed, holding the rubber duck in her hands. Flapping its wings occasionally lifting itself off the palm of her hand. Flapping its wings.

“Wow, you did an even better job than me.” He said, causing her to blush. But shaking her head, “Nah, yours are way better.” She said, smiling looking at him.

She looked down at the rubber duck nervously, the extermination was only a few days away and people were preparing for a bloodbath a massacre, an all out war.

“I-I..” She sighed and downcasted at the ground, before shaking her head and smiled. “I made caramel apple pancakes.” She said, smile and Lucifer’s eyes lit up.

“Why didn’t you just say so!” He exclaimed, before she knew it he was already out the door of his study. Towards the delicious caramel apple pancakes.

She smiled sadly, looking down at the rubber duck. Pressing the secret button on its wing. “I love you!” It said its robotic child like voice exclaimed, and she looked down sadly. “I feel butterflies in my stomach when I’m with you,” she clenched her fist, almost crushing the duck but stopped. Looking at it sadly, “I really am pathetic.” she sighed, she walked over towards the shelf.

That had a rubber duck with similar top hat, to that of Lucifer and hesitantly placed it beside it. On the shelf, before backing away and leaving going downstairs to eat breakfast with Lucifer.

- ——

Lucifer entered his study after [Y/n] had left, to help prepare for war being a recently fallen angel and all. He sat at his desk, he glanced over at the shelf. Noticing a new rubber duck, figuring she must’ve placed it there.

He admired it in awe, the translucent butterfly wings. He remembered how much she loves butterflies, he remembered when she joked about combining the two. A Duckerfly. A duck with wings. Even then she was absolutely adorable, her jokes always seemed to make him laugh.

He titled his head noticing a hidden button on its wings, pressing it curiously. “I’m a duck with wings!” The duck said, and he chuckled.

“Duckerfly!”

“I love you!”

He stopped for a moment, processing what the duck had just said. Pressing the button again, “I get butterflies when I’m with you,” His heart seemed to skip a beat, he pressed it again.. and again and again. Until it looped back to it saying, ‘I love you.’

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

[Y/n] smiled as she returned the hug, wrapping her arms around Charlie. “Thank you for everything,” thanked Charlie, looking up at the older woman smiling. "Ever since I was little," She said, looking up at her, "The stories, my dad used to tell me about you inspired me." and the older woman, looked at her and smiled her heart swelling with joy.

She chuckled softly, "When I was in heaven, I thought he'd forgotten about me." said [Y/n], her gaze soften as she reminisced of memories of the past. "Seems, it was quite the opposite who could've thought he'd tell stories of me to his own daughter." She said, smiling as she took Charlie by both hands.

She looked down at her, "You're like the child I've always wanted but never had," She said, the princess of hell couldn't help but chuckle, reminding her of the weird rivalry both her father and Alastor had.

"But, I'm not trying to replace your mother." She reiterated, "Not at all, I just want you to know. That I'm always here for you." She said, looking at her. Charlie pulled back from the hug, "I can see why my dad likes you so much," said Charlie, causing the woman in front of her cheeks to go red.

"Ah...Um.." She mumbled, but Charlie placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled, "It's okay, I think the two of you would be cute together." said Charlie, smiling. Even though she missed her mom Lilith, and that her dad might still possibly miss her. She couldn't help but notice even though on the small instances, her and her dad have spoke before all this.

She could see how happy he was having [Y/n] here, in Hell. She noticed the occasional flirting. Yes, it might sound weird but she loved seeing her dad happy more than anything. "U-Um, thank you." stammered [Y/n].

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

[Y/n]'s eyes widened as the force-shield shattered, but she snapped back as an exorcists attacked her and she could've sworn, she heard her shout traitor. She made quick use of her weapon, and ended the exorcists life by cutting off her head.

Patches of her clothes covered in yellow ichor, a tiny cut on her cheek she sustained when fighting an exorcists. But slowly, everything seemed to go downhill as the one who was supposed to take care of Adam. Alastor had suddenly disappeared leaving Charlie to fear the worst.

[Y/n]'s eyes widened in horror as Sir Pentious' airship was destroyed, right before everyone's eyes. "No!" Charlie wailed, as tears brimmed her eyes in shock. She'd barely gotten to know Sir Pentious, in the month she was in Hell.

But, he seemed like a good person who genuinely wanted to redeem himself. Who gave trust to his friends. and in the end made the ultimate sacrifice. Gripping the weapon tightly in her hands, she charged towards Adam.

Almost impaling him, but he dodged out of the way. "Why look who it is?" He said, looking down at her mockingly. She glared at him, "Why isn't it little miss traitor." He said, and she snarled gritting her teeth as she lunged towards him, but he laughed and dodge.

"Wow, you look even worse than you did in Heaven." He mocked, and she pursed her lips eyes filled with rage. As she dodged his attacks, "Says the arrogant bastard who let himself go after Eden," She spat, and he glared at her sending a beam that almost hit her.

But wasn't so lucky about the next one, causing her to groan in pain. "Wow, you really suck at this don't you." He laughed, god she wanted to rip out his fucking tongue. "Do you ever stop fucking talking?!" She shouted, angrily.

Adam dodged her attacks as she sent them his way. Swiftly flying out of the way angering her, as her eyes started glowing as she swings at him with the angelic weapon. She glared at him angrily, “All this for a dick you can’t suck!” shouted Adam, and she glared at him angrily. Gritting her teeth, “Ugh! Fuck you.” she spat. Missing him once again.

“You really are pathetic you know that?” He laughed. Before she could even react a yellow beam, struck her already bleeding side. Gold ichor dripping from the wound, her movement faltering, "S-Shut the fuck up!" She shouted angrily, but a blast sent her flying backwards. Causing her to crash into, the hotel knocking her unconscious.

“Y/n!” Charlie shouted, watching as she plummet to the ground. But she didn’t, and felt a pair of arms wrap around her holding her, she looked up and smiled. She quickly wrapped her arms around him, “Lu,” She whispered.

Then her eyes widened, “Please tell me you didn’t hear that.” She looked embarrassed, cheeks red. Lucifer cocked his head to the side,“Not all of it just the, a dick you can’t suck part.” He said, her cheeks bright red. How she wanted to curl up into a ball and hide in a cave.

She pursed her lips inward and groaned, “I would kiss you now-” Her cheeks turned red, as a tomato as he said that. Even more so as he looked down at her with a mischievous grin, “But, we can do that later.” He said, a grin on his face then turning to are at Adam.

Glaring at him as well as she pulled away from Lucifer, “I’ll take you up on that offer, but first.” She clicked her tongue, gripping her weapon as she glared at Adam.

Seething her teeth, as she gripped the weapon tightly. “Let’s get this fucker.” She spat, with swift speed flying off towards the angel.

Lucifer smiled watching as she flew off, “That’s my girl,” He smiled, as the two of them flew off towards Adam. Following after her, the look of anger on his face seeing his daughter in danger.

Lucifer cackled as he looks down at Adam, dodging his attacks."So, this is what you've been up to since Eden?" said Lucifer, a he flew around him."Gotta say, you really let yourself go buddy." He said, as he transformed into a snake. Adam grabbing him by the tail, and trying to throw him. But before he could Lucifer transforms into a duck. "You judgin' me? You're the most hated being in all of creations." Adam shouted, angrily at him.

"Well, your first wife didn't seem to hate what I had to offer." said Lucifer, using his fingers to make a 'V' shape bringing it to his lips. "or the second. Bow-chicka-wow-wow." said Lucifer, as he makes a thrusting motion in the air. Angering Adam, "I'll fucking end you!!" Adam shouted, as he chased after Lucifer.

[Y/n] flew up towards them, she laughed mischievously, as she transformed into different animals. Teasing him, “For someone who calls himself dick master, your own wives didn’t even want yours!” She laughed, grinning as you transformed into a dolphin with wings.

She slapped him using the tail across the face. Smiling mischievously, “Ugh! You bitch!” He shouted, angrily trying to grab her but she ducked. Flying away swiftly.

“The bully gets bullied,” She cackled, making faces at him before disappearing in a poof of yellow clouds. She giggled, as Lucifer took her by the hand. And the two of took pride in dancing to dodge, Adam’s attacks. “Oh, can’t catch us..” The two of them teased.

“That duck you left me,” He said, as the two of you disappeared from Adam, dodging his attacks. Her cheeks turned red as she looked at him, “I love you too,” He said, and her heart swelled with joy. Really was he saying this now?!

Adam gagged in disgust, “Stop moving you freaks!” Adam shouted, causing the king of hell to shake his head, “Hey, I’m trying to confess my love over here!” shouted Lucifer, causing her cheeks to turn even redder. Adam growing angrier, as he glared at them.

Adam groaned in anger, as he sent a beam of yellow ichor towards them. But Lucifer holding [Y/n] close protectively, as he swiftly pulled her out of the way. “Charlie!” She shouted worriedly, and swiftly as she said that Lucifer was off towards his daughter.

[ slight time skip ]

[Y/n] placed her hand on her bleeding side, as she stood up to her feet. Glaring at Adam as she stood beside everyone else, "You don't get to end this." Adam said, as he stood to his feet weakly. Climbing out of the hole, "I'm fucking Adam! I'm the fucking man," He shouted, looking at the sinners and demons in front of him, "and you're just some fucking clown or something." He spat, glaring at them.

"I started everything on Earth." He shouted, rambling. "All of mankind came from theses fucking nuts." He shouted, staring at them. While they just stood their listening to his tantrum, "You all should be worshipping me." He screamed.

"you ungrateful, disgusting fucking losers!" He shouted,Adam wails, and everyone stars at him in shock seeing the dagger protruding from his stomach. "Hey, you got something sticking out of your..your thing there." said Lucifer, pointing nonchalantly at the dagger sticking out of his stomach.

Adam fell forward, revealing Niffty holding the blade in her hands. "Niffty?" Charlie said in shock. Niffty sat there for a moment before, "Stab! Stab! Stab!" Niffty shouted, as she laughed manically. As she continued to stab him repeatedly. "Blood! ha ha ha!" She laughed, a crazed look in her eyes.

Lute screamed, as she rushed towards Adam turning him over as he died. Crying over her friend and leader, who sent her a final smile before dying. "It's over," Charlie and [Y/n], said glaring down at Lute.

"Take your little friends," said Lucifer, as he glared at Lute angrily in his demon form, "and go home." He shouted, is voice distorted and demonic. "Please.!" He asked, relaxed and calm yet with a sinister tone to his voice. Everyone watched, as the exorcists retreated back to heaven.

Lucifer sighed and turned back towards everyone, "Alright who wants some pancakes." asked Lucifer, as he wrapped an arm around [Y/n]'s waist. "This lovely lady right here makes some delicious, caramel apple pancakes." He said, a huge grin on his face. She smiled sheepishly, as she looked at everyone. Niffty raised her hand. "But first, I need to get this bandaged." She said, looking at the others smiling softly as she pointed at the wound.

She winced in pain as she climbed, over the rubble. “I’m okay,” She smiled, looking at Lucifer. She looked over towards Charlie, as she stared at the destroyed hotel. Everyone looked at her sadly, as she stared at the destruction and bloodshed that the war had caused. Holding KeeKee in her arms, she looked down at the banner they had made for Sir Pentious month's ago. Tears welled up in Charlie's eyes, realizing the ultimate sacrifice.

"He did it for us, the ultimate sacrifice," Charlie sang, as she choked back a sob. Vaggie placed her hand on her shoulder, "He gave me his trust, and look how we pay the price," She sang, as she walked away. She looked around at the cranage and destruction, "This bloodshed could have been avoided." She sang sadly, even though they won. She felt as if in a way it was all for nothing with the lives that were lost, "If I convinced Heaven to work together," She sang, tearfully.

She walked over towards the ledge, revealing the destroyed Hazbin Hotel and what remains, "I took a hotel and I destroyed it," She sang sadly, seeing the damage she couldn't help but blame herself for, "I know I could have done better." She sang, as she hugged her self tears welling up in her eyes, as she fell to her knees. "Better, instead of letting you down," She sang, looking down at the ground.

'Come on little lady, why the frown?' Lucifer sang, as he looked down at his daughter, placing a hand on his shoulder. 'In the last ten-thousand years. You're the first one to change this town' He sang, standing up on his feet getting in front of her, 'You can do this, now I know it!' He sang, placing his hand underneath Charlie's chin. 'For your story has just begun'

"You can't quit now, hell, you owe it," [Y/n] sang, as she smiled at Charlie warmly, "There's still damage to be undone," sang Lucifer, as he smiled at his daughter.

"You've changed my mind," He sang.

"You've touched their hearts." sang [Y/n].

"Found the good in souls gone bad"

"The stage is wrecked, the crowd is gone,"

Lucifer looked at his daughter triumphantly, and sang."But by God, Charlie!" [Y/n]wrapped an arm around her, "The show, it must go on" Lucifer and [Y/n] sang, Charlie looked up towards her friends.

“We can do this!” Charlie’s friends sang, as they looked down at her smiling comforting her, making the best of the situation. “We can build it!” everyone sang, smiling at her.

‘Best hotel that you’ve ever seen!’

‘Twice the bedrooms’

‘We can fill it’

“With more sinners than you can dream,” Lucifer sang, as he wrapped an arm around [Y/n]’s waist, a slight tint of red appearing on her cheeks. “It starts with you, you know, it's true.” They sang, as they looked down at her smiling. Hopeful despite the hotel being destroyed, despite the sinners lost.

“Fulfill your destiny!” Charlie looked at her friend, and wiped away her tears and smiled looking at them. “So long as I've got all of you with me!” Charlie smiled, as she wrapped her arms around them.

[Y/n] spreads her wings and smiles, as she flies around. Helping everyone work on rebuilding the hotel. From scratch to be grander than ever. As she sang to help rebuild the hotel she, still couldn’t believe that he loved her back. Almost feeling like a dream that he told her he loved her back. Her heart still skipping a beat, as a wave of relief seemed to wash away.

After a seemingly endless period of wallowing in self-pity, she had finally found happiness with him. With him by her side, she was filled with a sense of anticipation for what was to come in the future.

Suddenly, he scooped her up in his arms like a bride, and she let out a yelp of surprise. As he leaned down towards her, she felt his lips against hers, and a soft gasp escaped her. Her body tensed up in response as her heart began to pound against her chest, overcome with a mixture of nervousness and relief. Her eyes slowly fluttering shut as she melted into the kiss. Wrapping her arms around his neck, leaning more into the kiss.

He whispered into her ear, causing her to shudder and turn beet red. Despite her flustered demeanor, he couldn't help but chuckle softly. Furrowing her eyebrows as she looked at him, and playfully leapt out of his arms.

Transforming into a duck with butterfly wings, and flying off. Lucifer chasing after her, as she switched between each forms giggling, as they continued to help rebuild the hotel. She smiled, as magic flew through her fingers butterflies flew around the hotel glowing with yellow ichor.

Everyone stood at the portrait of Sir Pentious, memorial saluting the great general who sacrifed himself for his friends. “We can do this,” everyone sang, as they stared at the portrait mourning the loss. But a smile on their face, knowing that his sacrifice guaranteed them a better and hopeful future towards redeeming sinner.

“We can do this,” Charlie sang, as she stared at the “We'll be better,” everyone sang smiling, as they remembered Sir Pentious. Saluting their fallen friend.

“We'll be better,”

‘Though redemption may take a while’

“Though it may take a while,” Charlie sang, smiling as [Y/n] placed her hand in her shoulder.

‘Wayward sinners, clear their ledger’

‘And we're doing it with a smile’ Alastor sang, as he appeared between them. Charlie’s eyes lighting up smiling, as she hugged him. “Yeah!” everyone except Lucifer, smiled as they looked towards Alastor.

‘We made a difference, wait and see’

‘We're gonna do this, you and me.’ Charlie and Vaggie sang, as they hugged eachother.

As they walked out towards the courtyard with a hopeful smile. [Y/n] smiled as Lucifer took her hand into his squeezing, she looked down at him and smiled. Fireworks lit up the red sky of hell, as they looked at the newly rebuilt Hazbin Hotel.

Lucifer used his magic shrinking the key, and handing it to Charlie. Who smiled looking at the hotel, “And then tomorrow, it will be a fuckin’ happy day in Hell!” They all sang, as they looked at the newly completed and rebuilt grander than ever. Hazbin Hotel.

[side chapter sneak peek]

Lucifer and [Y/n}, had left suddenly after saying goodbye to Charlie and everyone saying they needed some. "rest" But Angel knew all to well, he saw right past through it. "Yeah, they're about to fuck." Angel said, earning a groan of disgust from everyone. In particularly, Charlie. "Ew, that's my dad." said Charlie, in disgust looking up at Angel Dust.

"What? It's pretty obvious!" He exclaimed, folding his arms across his chest. Before looking off in the distance curiously, "I wonder what kind of kink the Short King is into." He wondered curiously, he took notice of the apples.

Charlie covered her ears, while everyone started walking off. "He's definitely into food play, whipped cream and apples." Angel continued, and "Lala! I can't hear you!" Charlie shouted, as she walked off. "Hey, Charlie give me Y/n's number so I can ask!" He shouted, running after her, "No!" shouted Charlie, as she walked towards the hotel.

"Aw, come one I need to know!" Angel shouted, chasing after Charlie.

meanwhile.. in lucifer's room{ya'll will get the actual smut later so rn its the morning after}

Lucifer's eyes fluttered open and he was met with the most wonderous sight, of [Y/n] and her crinkled up nose as she slept letting out the occasional snore. He smiled softly, as he brushed his fingers against her cheek causing her to smile. His heart seemed to flutter, how did he get so lucky?

"Aw, Lucifer." She said playfully, looking at him as he attacked her neck with kisses, "I've gotta make breakfast." She said, and he nuzzled his head into the crook of her neck. "Mm, not yet." He said, as he pulled her underneath the covers. She was in for a long morning.

a/n: no y/n didn't know that Lilith was in heaven im not kidding. She had no idea, but with her coming into play for season 2. There will def be some drama stirring, if she's a villian or not.

also lemme know if theres any gaps so i can go back and fix them.

taglist: @supernerdycookietrashblrr @96jnie @mit-suri @koji-akeme @dinawss @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @wanderlustingcastaway @only-cherry-blossom @runaway-expert @buubsii @darkknightsandredrobins @kokoneai5 @colletepop @asheitoshin @thesimppotato11 @cherry-4200 @jolynetodd @blaire-blake @thedarkkitten @astrxwitch

#lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar x you #lucifer morningstar x y/n #lucifer morningstar fanfiction #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel lucifer #romance #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin spoilers #lucifer x you #lucifer x y/n #Hazbin hotel #lucifer mornigstar imgines

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localplaguenurse · 11 months ago

Text

Casper NSFW Headcanons

I am not immune to the grim reaper babygirl even a little bit. These are more "first time" headcanons.

Mentions of male and female anatomy for MC/reader/you, dom reader, oral (giving and receiving), a lot of teasing/praising, and inexperienced Casper, topping and bottoming. Also, this gets fucking LONG. REALLY LONG. Honestly should've just written actual smut but the voices told me to write headcanons...

NSFW CONTENT BELOW CUT, 18+ MINORS DNI, RESPECT THE HONOUR SYSTEM

Since Casper has never fallen for a mortal before and is/was a workaholic, he’s inexperienced in all matters of intimacy, especially physical.

Like, if you’re not his first kiss then you haven’t kissed him yet levels of inexperienced.

The first thing you two do, after you’ve pushed him down on your bed with glee, is kiss. And it’s okay! He has really soft lips, and it’s a simple peck, so not a lot to mess up there.

It’s when you try to do deeper, longer kisses that his inexperience shows.

Should he be tilting his head more? Should he push more against you- oh god there’s your tongue, in his mouth, feeling around, does he do the same? Where does he put his hands?

You have to really walk him through it and be patient about it. His tongue work is going to be awkward and sloppy, and you’re gonna bump teeth the first couple times, but he’ll eventually get the hang of it.

You’ll also have to remind him that he’s allowed to pull away so he can breathe. His face is cute when red, but you don’t wanna see if it’s just as cute when it’s blue. (I mean, it’s not like it’ll kill him, but still...)

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think his flushed face, wet lips, and panting were cute though.

Hickies are fun. It’s super easy to leave teeth marks and suck bruises on his pale skin, and it’ll make him whimper as you do. Tease him about how flustered he is over a couple love bites, and he’ll get pouty and deny it.

In fact, he’ll wanna mark you up as revenge, but he also just only learned how to kiss like ten minutes ago so he’s gotta learn how to give hickies too. He gets frustrated when he sucks on your skin but not enough to leave a lasting mark. That said, it is fun to do, and your skin is so soft against his tongue and lips, so he’ll keep trying.

He sits back all smug over finally leaving a bruise, but his neck is covered in teeth marks and bruises. Please, please bully him about that.

I need to stress this right now: you can tease and bully him as much as you want, do not degrade him.

The harshest name you can call him is a slut, but it has to be wrapped in praise (i.e. “such a good little slut…”). You could probably get away with calling him pathetic in the heat of the moment every now and again, but that is it. He will not react well to degradation. He wants and needs to be praised.

Play with his hair. Pull on it so you can tilt his head back and leave kisses all over his neck and jaw. Kiss up to his ear to tell him what a good boy he’s being, your sweet little reaper. He’ll melt right then and there.

Constantly feeling you up, it’s both his attempt at teasing you (especially with his cold hands) but mostly just him trying to figure out what he’s doing. If you tell him he’s not allowed to touch you, then he’s gonna be white knuckling the sheets.

Another easy way to get some really pretty noises out of him? Play with his chest and nipples, they’re very sensitive.

He’s ashamed at how easy it is to get him hard. You don’t have to do that much. Just straddle him and make out with him for a bit, let him touch your body or play with his hair. You’ll feel him press against you in no time, and he’ll whine at the friction of his pants against his cock.

Just whatever you do, don’t touch it. Don’t feel it, don’t rub it, and absolutely do not grind against it. Not unless you want him to cream his pants immediately. (Let's be honest: you do.)

Actually, you won’t even need to touch him to make him cum. All your teasing, your kissing, touching, the warmth of your skin and smell of your shampoo and your hands running through his hair and the sound of your voice, it’s too much.

You’ll feel his hips jerk and back arch, and he’ll make the prettiest little noise you’ve ever heard. It’ll take you a moment to realize what’s happened, your eyes trailing down to see the wet spot where his cock is pressed up against his pants.

When you do finally let his cock out, it’s rock hard, dripping precum, flushed a pretty shade of pink and has a patch of white hair at the base. He keeps it well maintained, which you shouldn’t be surprised by considering his thorough skincare routine.

Any and all bravado is out the window the exact moment you touch his cock. Whatever insult or snarky comment he had on his mind or smug look on his face is immediately gone once he feels your fingers graze it.

You can tease him as much as you want when he’s like this and he won’t do anything about it. Can’t do anything about it. He’ll be a whiny mess for you whether he wants to be or not, but in the moment, he doesn’t care as long as you touch him.

It won’t take much to make him cum, just pump your hand up and down while you kiss and bite at his neck, and tell him about how cute he is right now, how good he is, how he can just relax because you’re gonna take such good care of him.

The only reason he doesn’t immediately cum is because he’s masturbated to the thought of you before so he knows what it feels like, but his “self care” is nothing compared to you yourself actually touching him.

He will immediately cum if you go down on him. With your hand it was one thing, but your mouth is so warm and wet and your tongue feels so good he can’t hold back.

His hips will buck up reflexively, shoving himself deeper inside by accident as his cum shoots down your throat. He’ll babble apologies profusely for it but is immediately cut off by his own sobs when you keep going.

God it would be so fun to overstimulate him. He’d be crying, tears in his eyes, babbling about how it’s too much, it feels too good, and his body’s shivering and writhing because it doesn’t know if it wants to get away or if it wants more.

Edging would also be fun, just to hear him whine and beg for you every time you brought him to the edge, only to slow down and pull back. He’s pleading with you to let him cum, please let him cum, he’ll be good, please. How can you say no to that face?

Since you’ve treated him so nicely, it’s only fair he returns the favour and goes down on you too, right? Right.

You’ll have to talk him through it, how you like to be touched. Go ahead and grab his hair, use it to really guide him by pulling his face closer to your sex. If he’s not all mushy by that point, he’ll tease you about being needy for him (like he’s one to talk…).

Sucking cock is simple enough, though you can see in his eyes he’s a little nervous about it. He’ll slowly pump his hand up and down as a tester, gauging if you like what he’s doing and if he should go faster. He’ll then stick his tongue out and hesitantly lick the tip, and that surprised look on his face when you moan is to die for.

It’s enough of a push that he’ll take the tip in his mouth and lightly suck on it while stroking you, and every time you groan about how fucking good his mouth feels, it encourages him to take more of you in his mouth.

Be vocal with him, but most of all, be patient. Tell him what he’s doing right and what you want him to do, guide him by his hair if you wanna, but don’t expect him to be ready to deepthroat you yet. He’s still gotta work on that, so just savour the feelings he’s giving you now.

Let him know when you’re going to come, and more importantly, where, because otherwise he won’t know what to do. If you don’t wanna cum in his mouth, he’ll pull himself away and keep jerking you off until you cum. Try not to cum on his face, as tantalizing as the sight is. You can maybe get away with it once on purpose, or if it’s an accident.

Casper’s not a spitter, but he’s not a swallower? He actually doesn’t know what to do when you cum in his mouth. He’ll literally sit there with his mouth full and dick hard just staring at you until you either tell him to swallow or give him something to spit in. Call him a good boy when he swallows. Or if he doesn’t. Just call him a good boy either way.

It takes him some time to figure out how to eat you out right, but luckily for him it still feels really nice when he’s practicing.

His fingering technique needs a little work, mostly because he’s very unsure of himself. One’s not enough, two looks and certainly sounds good on your end, does he need to add more, or will that hurt? He wants to make sure he’ll fit when he gets to the big finish, but three fingers feels excessive, unless you like that? Is he going too fast, too slow, too deep, not deep enough? Does he curl his fingers here? Oh, you squeezed his fingers just now, that means he’s doing something good, but what’s he doing?

Thank god for the clitoris. Finds it without you having to guide him because it’s literally at the top, it’d be harder not to find it. All you need to tell him is your preferred pace and he’ll rub at it with ease, taking immense pride at how quickly you fall apart with that dumb little smile. (Just ignore him grinding against the bedsheets or stroking his cock, he’s totally in control right now.)

Kinda like with giving head, he starts with little kitten licks to your clit before getting more confident as he listens to your moans and praises. He’ll especially love it if you push his face into you so he can suck and lick harder. He’ll groan against you unintentionally, but when he hears the sound you make at the vibrations of his mouth, he’ll latch onto your clit and start humming and sucking as hard as he can.

Loves the feeling of you cumming on his tongue. The way your hips buck up, the way you tighten your grip on his hair, grinding against his face, your juices slathered all over his lips and tongue, gods he’ll never get over it. He’ll clean you up with his tongue and sit up, trying to look smug, but he’s not fooling anyone with the flushed face, the hearts in his eyes, or the wet patch on the front of his pants.

He’ll think you’re weird if you wanna kiss him after he goes down on you, but quickly shuts up once you plant your lips on his. Your tongue in his mouth is a very compelling argument.

Now comes the part he’s been most excited and nervous for; actually being inside you.

You are taking the lead regardless, because he doesn’t know what to do. Well, he knows, but he’s not fully confident in his abilities.

Just lay him back, tell him all he has to do is relax. You’ll take such good care of him.

He is tense when he feels you straddling him, your bare sex rubbing up against his teasingly. He wants to tell you to get on with it already, but his mind is in a daze and the only thing he can focus on is telling himself not to cum yet, you haven’t even put it in.

He’s gripping your bed sheets or your hips as tight as he can when he feels you finally start to sink down on his cock. He can cover his mouth, grit his teeth, whatever, but you KNOW that boy is whimpering inch by inch.

It’s enough that once you actually make it to the base, he’s reduced to the most pitiful mess of a grim reaper, trying so hard to keep what little composure he has, and the two of you have hardly started?

He will not last long in this state. The feel of your tight warm walls hugging around him so tight, and the way you move up and down his length is too much for him to handle.

He’s sorta sensitive about how quickly he cums, so you have to be careful about how, when, and if you tease him about it. You can tease him when he creams his pants, so long as it’s along the lines of “you feel that good already?”

When he cums prematurely inside you, be gentle with him, coo in his ear that it’s okay, it happens sometimes, you’re happy you make him feel so good, he’s being such a good boy for you.

And then you milk that poor boy for everything he’s worth. Watch his teary eyes roll back as his hips buck up to meet yours, shooting load after load until you’ve drained him of everything he’s got. He’ll be incoherent, sobbing and muttering “please please please” because it’s the only thing he’s able to say.

Hold his hand.

As if this google doc I’m writing in isn’t long enough, let’s talk pegging.

He’s going to be nervous about bottoming, he won’t even pretend he’s not. He doesn’t really know what he’s getting into, but he’s willing to try so long as you talk him through what you need to do.

In theory it’s all good, until he has your fingers thrusting into his hole, pressing into his sweet spot while you purr in his ear about all the things you’re going to do to him tonight. He really should have seen that coming considering it’s his Sunshine we’re talking about here, but he’s in too much pleasure to complain.

He’ll be too embarrassed to be face to face with you, so you suggest doing it from behind. Again, great in theory, until you have him face down ass up with your chest to his back. This position is arguably more embarrassing, but Casper is also stubborn and at least you can’t see his face.

Kiss all over his neck and shoulder blades and along his spine, it’ll make him shiver.

You have to take it really slow at first, of course. It’s his first time doing something like this, and you don’t wanna hurt him. Once you’ve slowly inched yourself to the base, give him a minute to get used to the fullness.

You’ll start slow and soft, but you don’t have to stay that way. In fact, he’ll love it if you start going faster, harder, deeper. He wants to feel you hit his prostate again and again, making him see stars every time you do.

You don’t even need to touch his cock, he’ll be falling apart anyways with the way you fuck him, but it’s so fun to overstimulate him anyways so go ahead, jerk him off while you do it.

He’ll try to muffle his sounds in the pillows. Sure, you can let him because it’s honestly really cute, but you can also pull him away by either tugging his hair or grabbing him by the jaw and lifting his head up. He’ll be a drooling, teary eyed mess, but he’s your teary eyed mess. Make sure you tell him that.

If you can, don’t be shy filling him up either. When he’s all fucked out, the feeling is absolutely addicting. Will probably get grumpy about the mess once he’s in a clearer headspace, but he’s also not gonna tell you to stop.

Oh, he’ll be nothing but mush when you two are done the deed. Not only is he too tired and blissed out to move, but he’ll be so cuddly and sweet, murmuring about how much he loves you and how good you are to him, for him. (He will vehemently deny he was that sappy once he’s snapped out of it though.)

Cuddles are absolutely mandatory post sex, he needs a little skin on skin time and to relish in the afterglow before the two of you get cleaned up.

It’s as you two are huddled together under the covers, about to fall asleep, that you hear Casper groggily mumble a little “thank you,” for treating him so well for his first time and showing him the ropes.

He’ll smirk at you and say that next time he’s going to use his knowledge against you, but both of you know that it doesn’t matter how experienced he is, it’s not gonna happen.

You don’t get the chance to poke fun at him about it though, as he’s already fallen asleep. You kiss his forehead and cuddle up closer.

#a date with death #nsft #not safe for tumblr #nsft headcanon #casper a date with death #oooooo look at me being aesthetic now with the header #anyways enjoy your meal #this took too long

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lincolndjarin · 11 months ago

Text

Not So Secret Santa

javier peña x fem!reader

this is a part of the @pedrostories gift exchange!!

summary : you get the only person you didn't want for your offices secret santa.

warnings/tags : 18+ mdni, enemies/friends to lovers, canon divergence, steve is your boss/close friend, reader and javier have a complicated relationship, reader is insecure, brief mentions of alcohol, porn with plot, smut, light angst, javier and reader fight physically but it's very light with no actual injury, masturbation, semi-public sex, p in v, idk how to properly tag this but javi likes boobs in this so he touches boobs, unprotected sex (don't do this, wrap it this holiday season), use of a makeshift gag, rough yet very loving sex because it's christmas and christmas magic means i can write what i want.

tldr : you and javi have sex in his office and you put his tie in his mouth to shut him up.

word count : 4.4k

✦ : merry christmas @taro-666 !!! i'm your secret santa !!! i hope you're well this holiday season and i hope you enjoy this fic !! i haven't written much peña, despite how much i love him so i hope i did him justice and i hope you have a wonderful holiday <3 <3 (also sorry this is a little late (20 minuetes left before midnight so we're good). i was out with family all day and was only just now able to get to my laptop, i promise i didn't forget about you lmao)

no use of y/n, reader has hair and painted nails & javier sort of half picks her up at one point, nothing else is described besides clothing.

lovely dividers by @saradika-graphics

“Please, Steve, I’ll give you a week's pay.” You lean across his desk, genuine desperation in your voice after an hour of begging.

“Not gonna happen.” He doesn’t even bother looking up from his computer.

“A month.” Your voice is starting to pitch up, something similar to anguish in your tone. Your offer finally gets a reaction out of him as his eyes widen, head tilting up.

“Jesus, you can’t be serious.” He’s examining your expression, trying to determine the sincerity of your claim.

“My entire Christmas bonus.”

“Okay, stop.” He sighs, giving you a sympathetic look. “We’re not allowed to switch.”

“When did you become such a stickler for the rules?” You cross your arms in front of your chest.

“It’s just a secret Santa. He’s our friend, whether you like it or not, you two are close and this shouldn’t be this big of a deal, now go, please, I need to finish up here so I can leave at a reasonable hour.” He loosens his tie as you sigh.

“It’s not just a secret Santa, Steve. It’s an opportunity for him to tell me that I once again didn’t do something right. No matter what I get him, it isn’t going to be good enough.” Even as you’re saying it you can see that he isn’t going to change his mind about this.

“He’s a dick to everybody. That’s inevitable, it just means he’s comfortable with you.” He’s already turning back to his work.

“Please, Steve.”

“No.”

You glare down at him, giving him your angriest look as his gaze tilts back up to meet yours.

When it’s clear that he isn’t going to switch you turn and leave, slamming his office door in the process.

“Don’t forget, I need you here early to help set up for the party!” His muffled voice seeps out into the hall as you walk away.

Once you’re out in your car and far away from prying eyes you unfold the damned slip of paper you’d drawn earlier today.

Javier P.

Of course, you got stuck with fucking Peña, a nickname you’d given him a few months ago. He absolutely hates it but the entire time you’ve worked for the DEA he’s gone out of his way to bother you. Sure, he’s your “friend”, in a strange, complicated way. But he still drives you up the wall with his constant need to one up you and the way he’s constantly making passes at women around the office.

And it’s not like you have any problems with him sleeping around, lord knows you’ve had a fair amount of one night stands, but he just has to hit on every woman you work with.

Every single woman, except you.

You’d never admit it of course but a part of you will always be self conscious about that fact. It doesn’t help that Javier absolutely adores bothering you at every possible moment. He loves nothing more than to pester, annoy, and mock you, spending nearly half his day leaning over your desk despite the million complaints you’ve sent Steve about his persistent partner.

He’ll sit on your desk, doing an endless amount of things to cause you distress. Like crowding you with his cigarette smell and vanilla cologne as he tells you you’re filling papers wrong, or telling you what colors to paint your nails, or solving your cases before you can even get to them, or teasing you about your shitty car. Today he wouldn’t stop bothering you about your weekend plans like he doesn’t already know exactly where you’ll be.

“Are you doing anything this weekend?” He’d asked with that devastating smirk and eyebrow raise combo.

“I have to go buy my secret Santa gift, just like everyone else.” You’d turned away, avoiding eye contact as he scoffed.

“What about Saturday?” He continued to pry, you wanted nothing more than to shove his perfect ass off your desk.

“The Christmas party, Javi. Just like everyone else.” You had sighed, squeezing the bridge of your nose as Emilia had walked past your desk. Javier immediately forgot your entire conversation as he turned to her.

“I love your nails.” He’d pushed his hair out of his face, holding his hand out to take hers, getting a closer look at the well manicured designs.

You had tuned out after that. Not wanting to be involved in the exchange as you went back to typing. Acutely aware of your own nails.

Red chipped paint.

You couldn’t help but wonder what it must be like to be the object of his affection.

It wouldn’t matter if he did hit on you, you would probably reject him anyway.

Probably.

It doesn’t matter, it’s never gonna happen so why let it bother you?

With a sigh you toss the paper into your cup holder, reaching to turn on the radio, maybe some Christmas music will make you feel better. Of course nothing happens as you turn up the volume knob but it makes you want to scream regardless.

Stupid fucking Peña.

Stupid broken radio, stupid shitty car.

“Fuck.” You mumble under your breath as you shift into drive.

Before you know it you’re back in your car in the DEA office parking lot, this time a few things are different though.

You’re dressed nicer, trading your slacks in for a skirt and your dress shirt for a sweater. And of course you now have a small wrapped box in your lap.

Since you had yesterday off for the holiday you spent your Friday at the mall, searching for a gift for Javier. Eventually you had settled on three little things; Nicotine gum, mostly because you’ll get more work done if he isn’t constantly dragging you outside for his smoke breaks. He complains too much about going alone and it’s always been easier not to argue, now he can stay at your desk with his gum. Beard oil, the fancy stuff he always insists on using in his mustache. You’d bought him the wrong kind last year for his birthday and you still haven’t heard the end of it. And a lighter, you had to beg the shop owner to make an exception and do a same day engraving of his birthday.

Jesus.

You know way too much about him.

You arrived two hours early as requested by Steve to help him set up. With the wrapped box tucked under your arm you anxiously tap the patterned wrapping paper with your freshly manicured nails.

“You should paint your nails green, I love green.” He had said through a drag of his cigarette.

Why did you let that idiot's opinions influence this decision? You feel foolish. The green chrome polish shimmering in the street lights in the parking lot as you step into the building. You had extra time while you were waiting for the engraving and you just couldn’t help yourself when the salon was just a few stores away. The image of Javier holding your hand and examining your painted nails while telling you how nice they looked was just too tempting. Maybe he’d even ask if you did it just for him, and you could drag him into a closet at the party, the exact situation you watched unfold last year. Except in that scenario you weren’t the lucky lady he’d run off with that night.

There’s no time to be thinking like that.

You shake off whatever filth you were imagining as you look around the hectic mess of garland and glitter.

Steve is already stressing, setting up tables as you set your gift under the tree before getting to work. The office is already mostly decorated but with his new position as supervisor Steve is insistent that everything be perfect his first Christmas in charge. So you plate food, and you mix drinks exactly as he wants them, and you hold the ladder steady when he insists on putting more lights up. When you’ve got about a half an hour before guests start arriving you’re finishing up and last minute touches, the two of you crowded around a drink tower.

The tension from your conversation yesterday seems to have fizzled out as you become engrossed in your work, when you’ve both finished he gives you an appreciative look.

“Thank you, seriously, it means a lot.” You help him adjust his tie as he straightens out his shirt.

“Anytime, although I’m surprised you didn’t just ask Javier.” You pat his shoulder as you finish, brushing a stray blonde hair out of his eyes.

He laughs, a nervous chuckle that makes you raise an eyebrow but when you open your mouth to comment on it he lets out a relieved sigh as the first of your coworkers arrive.

More people show up than you could have expected.

You stay near Steve for most of the beginning until he gets dragged away by one of the higher ups who had made an appearance, leaving you alone to sip your drink against the back wall. You hum along to a Christmas song that plays loud enough to drown out any conversation you might eavesdrop on to entertain yourself in his absence, your eyes scan the crowds as you try to match up the people you work with with their spouses.

You’re getting ready to find another group to talk to when you catch a glimpse of him standing against the opposite wall, talking to Bonnie, the woman who works in the cubicle next to yours.

Fucking Peña. Dressed in a stupidly tight green dress shirt.

You should leave them alone, especially if he’s trying to make a move on her. But you can’t help it as you make your way around the room towards them, a vague sense of jealousy settling in your stomach.

String lights twinkle across the ceiling of the office, creating a warm ambience throughout the space, just as you’re about to tap him on the shoulder you overhear their conversation.

“I had to beg Steve to switch with me, took an hour of convincing and a week's paycheck but it’ll be worth it to see the look on her face.” His back is to you as he leans in closer to Bonnie.

He’s probably talking about one of the other women from the office. Steve probably had someone Javier was trying to impress and that’s why Steve didn’t want to trade with you, he had already promised his pick to Javier.

Whatever, you can’t be too bothered about that. It does make you want to return to your spot on the other side of the room but you don’t get the chance to as the music is turned down rather suddenly.

One of the secretaries, Benjamin, stands on a chair, making an announcement that it’s time to do the secret Santa. You manage to twist through the crowds so Javier never sees you, finding his gift and bringing it to where he now stands, simultaneously keeping an eye out for your own gift.

You hand him the box, watching the way his face lights up.

“You picked me?” He grins as you nod, carefully peeling back the wrapping paper as you feel a tap on your shoulder. Benjamin waits behind you, leaning in to whisper while you watch Javier open his gift.

“It was short notice so we didn’t have time to get you a back up gift but your secret Santa told us at the last minute that he forgot to get you something, he promised to bring in something after New Years, I’m so sorry.” You feel a little disappointed as he murmurs but it isn’t that big of a deal, it’s a busy time of year and people can forget things.

“No worries, do you know who it was? I’d like to at least tell them it’s fine.” You turn away from Javier as he smiles at the nicotine gum, Benjamin's eyes flicker from your face to Javier’s before he gives you a sympathetic look, walking away.

Javier traded for your name?

As your head tilts to look at him now you can see the smirk he’s now sporting.

“ …but it’ll be worth it to see the look on her face.”

Javier had made a conscious effort to get your name just so he could not get you something.

Huh.

That doesn’t feel great. The look he gets to see on your face is betrayal and then just sadness. You don’t really care what the reason for his decision is, you turn and walk away from him regardless. If he tries to say something to you it’s drowned out by the music that starts once again.

Why are you so upset over some stupid joke? If it had been anyone else you wouldn’t have cared, you’d have brushed it off as a harmless accident but this wasn’t an accident.

Maybe he didn’t really think of you as a friend.

Maybe all of the teasing and one-upmanship really was from a place of animosity and you were just too blind and too infatuated to see it. You want to cry but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction so you sift through the bowl of keys, searching for the Star Wars keychain attached to your lanyard but you can’t find it. The combination of the blaring Christmas songs with the frustration you’re currently feeling only makes you more emotional.

You don’t want to go to the bathrooms where you might run into someone and you can’t go to Steve’s office because he might be talking to his supervisor, so you go to the only place you know there won’t be people.

Javier’s office.

You walk as quickly as you can, slipping inside as you slam the door shut behind you, clicking the lock in place before turning around, resting against the door as you feel tears spilling from your eyes. It isn’t until he clears his throat that your head snaps up.

Today is just not your day.

Did he know you’d come here? How the hell did he beat you here? He’s fidgeting with the lighter you bought him, watching it light and go out as he sits with your keys in his other hand.

Your face feels hot as you take in the sight of him.

“Give me my keys.” You hold your hand out, wiping your eyes with the other as you wait. Of course he doesn’t hand them over, that would be too easy and today is insisting on being difficult.

“I really liked your gift. Seriously, this is… outrageously thoughtful.” He murmurs, seemingly unaware of your mood until he takes a closer look at you, his expression shifting as he realizes your eyes are rimmed with red. “Why are you so upset? What happened?” He slides open a drawer, tossing your keys into his desk while you consider calling a cab.

What a foolish question.

How could he possibly not know?

“I want to leave, I’m sick of this party.” You turn to leave, maybe Steve can drive you home.

“Come on, the parties barely started.” He’s on his feet, he doesn’t try to corner you, if anything he sets himself against the wall.

“And I want to leave.” When you reach for the doorknob he grabs your wrist, holding it as he stares at you, a look of impatience crosses his face.

“Don’t tell me you’re mad about the secret Santa.” His brows furrow.

“This isn’t about a stupid secret Santa.”

“It sure seems like it is.” He’s still holding your wrist, why is he still holding your wrist?

This isn’t about the secret Santa. It’s a lot more than that, and after ages of keeping your thoughts to yourself in front of him you just let it out.

“This is about the fact that you don’t even care about me enough to make any sort of effort. I know you deliberately chose me, you specifically chose to do this to me and I don’t care that it’s just a stupid prank. It still- It’s still a shitty thing to do.” Your voice starts cracking half way through and you can feel your eyes welling up again but it doesn’t matter anymore, you were wrong, the two of you aren’t friends.

“So this is about the secret Santa.”

Of course he wouldn’t get it.

“You’re an idiot.” You finally pull your wrist from him.

You aren’t sure what else to do so you shove him, his back hitting the wall with a soft thud as you push past him to get to his desk, hoping to grab your keys but he catches your waist first.

“Can you stop being so stubborn for five seconds and just let me explain myself?” You can tell his patience is wearing thin, his voice is strained as he pulls you back against him, caging you against his chest with his arms.

“Fuck Javi- let me go-” You try to kick his knees but he anticipates it, shifting his legs to avoid you.

“Just wait- listen to me.” He swings you around a bit as he tries to still you, you can feel his breath hitching, the buttons of his shirt digging into your back. The two of you thrash around for another moment until you freeze, feeling something poking your hip. When he realizes why you stopped putting up a fight he lets you go in an instant. “Shit- I-I’m sorry.” He stammers as you turn around towards him, eyes wide.

You never thought you’d see Javier Peña flustered yet here he is. When you take a step back his cheeks are burning red, his fingers twitch nervously at his side, and as much as you try to ignore it, his pants are tighter than usual. (And considering how tight they usually are this is quite a feat.) He won’t look you in the eye.

“It- It’s fine, Javi.” You adjust the hem of your skirt, trying to fix your hair. You just can’t catch a break today. “It was an accident, there was a lot of- of friction and it happens. I think I should just go.” You stutter a bit trying to find the right words. This entire evening has been catastrophic, and you’re more than ready to call it a night.

“It’s not an accident.” He mumbles, finally looking at you, not bothering with subtlety as he adjusts himself. “You should probably go.”

If it’s not an accident you don’t want to go.

You want to stay and keep making accidents, starting with rushing forward into him, taking his face in your hands and kissing him. Which is exactly what you do. At first he doesn’t react and you worry you read the situation wrong but when you pull away, just an inch, his hands envelop you.

Hips, waist, back, shoulders, hair. He’s everywhere, all consuming as his teeth graze your lips, in an instant your backside hits his desk.

When he finally does remove his lips from yours his are slick and a tiny bit swollen, his pupils swallow his irises whole.

“I loved your gift, I wasn’t joking, it’s perfect and the last thing I want is for you to think that I don’t care about you. Of course we’re friends, you-” As he rambles on you ball up the end of his tie, unceremoniously shoving it between his teeth.

“Talk later, this now.” You grab the bottom of your sweater, pulling it up over your head, watching his jaw tense at the sight of your chest, his hands playing with the strap of your bra as you hop up onto his desk. Hiking your skirt up, he slots himself between your legs, your own fingers push your panties to the side as he reaches behind you, easily twisting the clasp of your bra to release it, tossing it to the side as his enormous palms engulf your breasts.

You dip your fingers into the wetness between your legs, briefly taking a moment to wonder how you found yourself here. Just moments ago you were ready to leave and consider your friendship with Javier over, yet now you’re spread out on his desk, on display for him as you sink your fingers into your eager cunt.

You don’t get to linger on the thought for long because he groans into the fabric of his tie and you’re pulled back into the moment.

Jesus you’re soaked.

You have no trouble pushing two slick digits into yourself. You can feel the outline of him against your thigh and you know that you need to warm yourself up to take him. He’s too engrossed in your tits to do it right now and you’ve waited too long for this, you don’t want to wait, you just want to have him.

He’s tender at first, squeezing and softly tracing the outline of your areola until he seemingly can’t control himself any longer and he pinches, rolling your nipples between his thumb and pointer finger as your whine. Back arching of the oak of his desk as you curl your own fingers. Even through the tie his moans are still somehow louder than yours, you’re briefly worried about someone hearing as you let out a whimper while he tweaks your nipple but the music’s so loud at the party you can hear Mariah Carey from here.

You don’t stop for a second, putting your focus on reaching the peak that you find yourself already getting startlingly close to. You can feel yourself pulsing as you pick up the pace, reveling in the way his eyes devour the very sight of you. You’re agonizingly close when he grabs your wrist, removing your fingers carefully as you try and resist, wanting to finish what you started, you’re about to whine when he begins unzipping his pants. You can feel your pussy clenching at the very sight of him, of course he isn’t wearing any underwear under his dress pants so the second his zipper is fully down his cock springs free.

Javier fucking Peña has a gorgeous cock.

Standing stiff and proud without either one of you even having to touch it. Pretty and pink on the tip, already leaking down the shaft. And heavy, as he takes it in his hand, his other hand gripping your waist as lines himself at your entrance. He takes a moment, eyes scanning your face, silently asking for permission.

You can’t nod fast enough but the second that you do he slides into you.

You could never conjure up something this good in your fantasies. The way he fills you, stretching you open as he whimpers into the fabric of his tie, you like that he listened, that he kept it in his mouth this long. His strokes are needy and fast, like he’s been waiting for this for so long and now he can’t help but be ravenous. You were already painfully close before he filled you with his perfect cock, it takes only a few minutes for you to be right back there. His fingers dig into your waist so hard that you’re certain he’ll leave marks as he slams in and out of you, pulling out almost entirely with every thrust.

You’re vaguely aware of the sound of his trinkets rolling off his desk and onto the floor.

“Javi, Javi, Javi.” Between gasps you chant his name, the sound encouraging him as he pushes in deep, his pelvis grinding against your clit until you see stars. Your cunt clenching around him as your orgasm is ripped out of you. Messy and loud and blurry, he fucks you through it. You’re so blissed out you can barely focus on the persistent pounding into you until you manage to come back to your senses and his hands leave your waist, instead intertwining with your fingers as his hips twitch forward and you feel him hastily pull out of you.

He spits his tie out, opting to instead bite your shoulder as he comes, the groan that leaves his throat is obscene. Raspy and filthy as he collapses down on top of you, the two of you sweating and gasping amongst the paperwork and pens now scattered across his desk.

Did that really just happen?

He manages to collect himself first, leaning back and tucking himself into his pants before quickly tending to you. He grabs a few tissues, wiping your stomach where the product of your activities lay, before redressing you, slipping the flats that had slipped off, back onto your feet, pulling your skirt back down to cover you as he slides your panties back into place, and retrieving your bra and sweater, lifting you into a sitting position as he redresses you, kissing your cheeks, nose, and forehead the entire time.

“All good?” He whispers, gentler than you’ve ever heard him as you nod, grinning.

“Good enough to make me forgive you for not getting me a present.” You reach into his drawer, grabbing your keys before sliding off of his desk.

“Maybe this was your present.” He tilts his head, kissing you again, smiling all the while.

“That was the perfect gift then.” Probably the best you’ve ever gotten.

“Are you gonna stay for the rest of the party?” He takes your hands in his, his thumbs absentmindedly rubbing circles into your skin.

“I think I need to go to bed after that.” You laugh as you jingle your keys, turning towards the door as he catches your lips in another kiss.

It makes your heart flutter. The continued affection makes you think this isn’t a one time thing. You want more. You want conversations about feelings, and to talk about what just happened, you want to feel him inside you again, and the look in his eyes tells you that you’re going to get all of that. But right now you’re tired, so the rest can wait.

“Can I walk you to your car?” You nod as he murmurs.

He doesn’t let go of your hand, walking you out of the building towards your car, opening the door for you and giving you one last kiss with a promise that he’d call you tomorrow, before you watched him walk back into the building.

Your phone buzzes as you turn your key in the ignition, the sound of Wham! fills the car, Last Christmas playing softly. You take your phone out of your pocket, checking the text notification from Javier.

[ i forgot to tell you how pretty your nails are. merry christmas hermosa ]

Your head turns up in surprise as you realize your radio is working. A new radio system is installed in the center of your dashboard, with a little green bow taped to the top, and a paper tag with Javi’s familiar messy handwriting.

from : your secret fucking santa

a/n : happy holidays everyone!!

#pedrostoriesgift23 #lincolndjarin #taro-666 <3 #javier pena smut #javier peña #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal

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adragonprinceswhore · 2 months ago

Text

Rumours

Aemond Targaryen x (Ex)Wife

Chapter V: Silver Springs 🎼 Masterlist

Summary: You think back to the tumultuous end of your marriage.

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, angst, fighting, possessive Aemond, toxic relationship dynamic, dysfunctional family dynamic, physical violence, blood, anger issues

Word count: 5700

A/N: As always, I’d like to acknowledge my love, Justine @theoneeyedprince 🩵 She’s writing a new series called Careless Whisper and it is a gem! ILY!

“You excited for the big show tonight?”

Jace’s cheery voice greets you as you enter the backstage area of Winterfell Arena. You look up from your phone and acknowledge your bandmate with a smile,

“Excited and more nauseous than I’ve ever been”, you joke, sliding your phone in your pocket.

It looks like most backstage rooms have looked so far on the tour; sparsely decorated with fold up tables and chairs. There’s an array of snacks and drinks offered, and you make your way to the refreshments next to Jace to grab some coffee.

He appears to already be wearing his stage clothes; a tight, purple silk button-down shirt that shows just enough skin to get his fans excited. Despite the curse of being the overlooked bassist, Jace has a small yet rowdy fanbase, who tend to go absolutely mental whenever he winks at them from stage. He loves the attention, and you guess today’s extra slutty outfit choice is his gift to them.

He moves to lean against the table, plastic coffee cup in hand,

“So, will you treat us to a new song tonight? I hadn’t heard ‘Dreams’ all put together before we performed it but damn, it sounded great”

You meet his eyes as you pick up the plastic cup by the small ear on the side,

“I think I’ll do ‘Dreams’, it’s the only one I feel is really finished”, you reply and take a sip.

There is another song you’ve been working tirelessly on, but you’re not sure if you feel ready to perform it.

It is one of the reasons why your album is delayed. The members have all recorded their instruments and finished the back-up, yet you haven’t submitted a final version of your vocals.

As a musician, you’re used to pouring your heart out when writing lyrics, not afraid of getting personal. And still, for some reason, this one almost feels too revealing; too intimate to sing out loud.

You have the lyrics written down, and you’ve sung them to yourself at home. But singing them on stage, with him there, feels too exposing.

Too vulnerable.

You haven’t seen Aemond since your regrettable tryst in his hotel room.

After reading through the divorce papers, you called Alysanne back up, needing help to wrap your head around the entire situation.

After a few hours of talking, she convinced you that this was for the best.

You’d gotten what you wanted.

And the mishap in Aemond’s room was, according to your best friend, nothing more than a chance to “bang one out” one last time.

“Got it”, Jace replies in his typical cheerful manner. He reaches for a small biscuit on the table and pops it into his mouth, “I’m sure your song will sound great. They always do”

His warm, brown eyes shine as he assures you of your abilities. It feels nice; how uncomplicated his praise is, and you smile back at him again, thankful to have at least one easy-going person in your band.

You continue to chat light-heartedly as you wait for the other band members to arrive.

When Jace heads outside for a smoke, you spot a familiar notebook on one of the chairs nearby.

It’s open.

Curious and foolish, you head over to see what’s written.

You glance at the paper, lyrics written by hand in impeccable handwriting. You know you shouldn’t, but you can’t help yourself.

‘I don’t wanna stand ‘tween you and love, honey’‘I just want you to feel fine’

Again with the self-pitying? Fucking hell, he’s relentless.

Did he want you to “feel fine” when he forbade you from attending events without him? Or when he went through your email without your permission?

‘Oh, you say you love me but you don’t know’

You put the paper back down, already feeling your mood souring.

Prick.

When you first started dating, you quickly learned that Aemond was the rock of his family.

If his brother had been arrested for drunk and disorderly behaviour, he was there.

If his mum needed someone to help organise a charity event, he was there.

If his grandfather needed him to go over a case at 3 am, he was there.

Seeing the stress of such immense pressure weigh him down, you, in turn, tried to be his rock; supporting him in any way you could.

You managed quite well. Like those times he came home late after spending 12 hours at the office, and you greeted him with a smile and a home-cooked meal, kissing his cheek.

He’d sit down and grab you by the waist as you placed the plates on the table, keeping you on his lap while you ate and discussed your days together.

When you finished eating, you’d stay like that. He’d lean into you, resting his face in the crook of your neck while he held you close, thanking you for the delicious meal.

You knew that he was thankful for what you did for him; gratitude evident in his voice and how he complimented your cooking skills. Still, there was always this sadness inside of him, a pitiful tint to his tone.

It was tough seeing how drained he got from being everything for everyone.

Aemond’s older sibling never felt the crushing pressure of being Otto Hightower’s protégée. While he worked tirelessly at Oldtown Solicitors after finishing his degree, they chose to pursue the band full-time. A privileged career choice made optional by their generous trust funds.

You took a part-time position after graduating so that you could stay in the band and write music. Aemond nearly convinced you to focus on the band full-time as well, arguing that he could provide for you if you ever needed anything. Despite the generous offer, you decided that he already had enough to deal with, and potentially adding further to his endless list of responsibilities didn’t sit right with you.

You wanted to ease his troubles, not add to them.

Consequently, when you recorded your first album, it was mostly at night, after Aemond had finished working with his grandfather. His natural talent and precision as a guitarist and singer meant that it usually only took him two or three attempts before he was satisfied with a piece.

You, on the other hand, did not find the recording process as easy.

You feel tears of frustration sting your eyes as you step out of the sound booth. Helaena, Aegon and Jace had already gone home, drained from a full day of recording.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”, Aemond asks when he sees the way the corners of your lips pull downward.

You let out a shaky breath to gather yourself, swallowing in an attempt to make the lump in your throat disappear,

“I can’t do it, it just-, it sounds like shit no matter how many times I-”, you mumble, cutting yourself off as you try to take another deep breath, determined not to cry.

You feel silly, getting so upset over something so nonsensical. Still, being unable to deliver in the way you’d like has left you feeling powerless over your own voice, like you can’t control it.

Aemond stands up from his seat by the mixing table and slowly makes his way towards you. He moves one of his hands to cup your cheek and looks down to make eye contact with you,

“Don’t say that”

His voice is soft as his thumb gently strokes your cheek, “It’s late and you’re tired, it’s okay to need a break. But never doubt yourself, love”.

He leans down to place a kiss on your forehead and you crave his touch like nothing else, pushing yourself against his body as your arms hug his waist. He hugs you back, one hand stroking your hair, and you instantly feel the lump in your throat melt away.

The tears that had threatened to spill, never do.

He makes it all go away.

The blood, sweat and tears you’d put into creating your first ever album as Dragon Dreamers proved to be worth it. Suddenly, your songs play on the radio and are featured on major playlists, where thousands of people can listen to them.

The success instigated both you and Aemond quitting your jobs and focusing on the band full time together with Helaena, Aegon and Jace. You were certain that leaving Oldtown Solicitors and creating some distance with his grandfather would be good for Aemond, maybe even pushing him to open up to you more.

He had a tendency of shutting you out, particularly when he was clearly distressed by something. He refused to even acknowledge some things, like he wanted to spare you from it. Yet all his secrecy did was make you feel lonely; like a stranger your beloved did not trust enough to let in. Every time he dismissed your concerns and refused to speak about what was upsetting him, another crack appeared on your weary heart.

During the first year of your relationship you’d been under the impression that you and Aemond shared a connection so innate and deep, you didn’t need to discuss things like other couples did.

You were able to understand each other wordlessly.

And though there was truth in that assumption, time made you realise that Aemond’s inability to open up slowly tore a cavernous rift between the two of you.

Music blasts out of the speakers in the crowded bar, making it hard for you to hear Tyland as he introduces you to one of his colleagues.

It’s a man around 30, with a slightly crooked smile and long, dark hair pulled back in a bun.

You move closer to hear what he’s saying, nodding along to his explanation of what next for your band.

“We’d like to make a music video for one of your songs, maybe featuring a live performance?”, he asks and you feel yourself light up at the thought. A bright smile breaks out over your face, revealing your approval of his proposal.

“That would be amazing!”

You nearly have to shout for him to hear you over the ruckus in the bar, and you lean in a little closer.

“Have you ever considered doing some solo stuff? On the side, of course”, he asks, grey eyes locked with yours.

You open your mouth to answer, but before you have a chance you feel a warm hand on your shoulder, stopping you,

“She wouldn’t have time for that”

Aemond’s firm voice answers right behind you. You didn’t see him come up, and you can hear the irritation in his voice. A quiet sigh leaves your lips, dreading what’s to come.

The man Tyland had introduced you to appears a bit stunned by the sudden shift in atmosphere, and offers you both an awkward smile and stiff nod before heading to the bar counter.

You turn to face Aemond, whose face is set in a frown,

“What was that about?”, he asks and you feel irate frustration bubble up inside your chest.

This is not the first time he’s taken the liberty of answering for you, or scaring away anyone who dared approach you.

“Nothing”, you reply before walking around Aemond, moving towards the door.

You need air, your husband’s presence suffocating you.

You step outside and spot Jace, leaning against the wall with a cigarette hanging from his lips.

“You don’t happen to have one more?”

He pulls out the pack together with his lighter and opens it for you in an invitation to steal one.

You place the cigarette between your lips, mumble out “thanks”, and light it up.

You take a drag, let the smoke fill your lungs, and you close your eyes.

The nicotine gives you a slight high and your fingertips tingle pleasantly.

“Give us a minute, Jace”

Aemond’s voice interrupts your serenity, and your companion leaves without a word of protest.

You open your eyes to look at Aemond. You know he’s upset about what had just happened, but there is something else that he’s not telling you.

Behind the angry facade, he seems sad.

Or insecure?

It is hard to decipher when he so persistently tries to push those feelings down.

He doesn’t say anything. His hand seeks out yours to grab the cigarette and he takes a long drag before handing it back to you. You wish he’d just talk to you. Tell you what makes him act so hostile towards those around you.

Towards you.

It makes you anxious; the uncertainty. Not knowing what’s going on inside.

Aemond breaks the silence.,

“So, you really want to leave the band?”

You click your tongue in frustration and throw the cigarette on the ground, stomping on it until the bud stops glowing,

“When have I ever said that?”

“You sure seemed happy when that scumbag wanted to steal you away”, he says and moves to lean against the wall next to you.

“Aemond”, you sigh, looking up to meet his eyes. He is so hard to read it infuriates you.

You know there is no point in fighting. It’s like his mind is set on distrusting you; of thinking the worst of you.

“Every time you act like this, you break my heart. It's like you don’t trust me in the slightest”, you say in a helplessly defeated voice,

“That hurts, you know”

As Aemond got more and more possessive over you, he also kept you further and further away from himself.

Sometimes you wondered if he actually hated you.

Why else would you cause his ire to light up so fiercely?

Whenever someone approached you, he was there, looming over you.

Guarding you.

Like you were his, and no one else was allowed near.

No matter how many times you asked him to stop, he wouldn’t listen.

Instead, after you found yourselves in a fight, something that had become a weekly occurrence, he’d head out without a word, leaving you alone in your shared home.

He could be gone for hours, leaving his phone behind so you couldn’t contact him. It felt like torture, waiting for him to come back without any knowledge of what he was up to, or if he was okay.

When he eventually came back and you confronted him about his behaviour, he dismissed your concerns, telling you that he just needed to “clear his head”.

Everything about the situation felt unfair.

Not just the fact that he opted for running away instead of talking to you, but also because you knew he’d be livid if you decided to suddenly leave in the middle of the night.

After a year of meaningless fights, petty arguments and baseless accusations, you came to the realisation that you couldn’t be his rock anymore. And he’d stopped being yours long ago.

Before the success of the band, you could provide him with reassurance and love.

Now, it seemed like he’d made you the enemy, suspicious of everything you did, set on distrusting you.

Staying with him, loving him, felt like too great of a challenge.

And maybe it was.

Taking one last look in the mirror, you put on just a little more lipstick before tossing it in your handbag and walking out of the bathroom. You’d ordered a taxi for six o’clock, and it should arrive any minute now.

“When were you going to tell me about this?”

Aemond’s harsh voice echoes in the quiet room.

He’s leaning against the kitchen island in the middle of your open-plan flat. You feel the all too familiar pit of anxiety form in your stomach at his tone.

He’s irritated again.

He holds your phone up so that you can see the screen, an email from Tyland.

He’d contacted you earlier today about an opportunity for you to do a photoshoot and interview at Casterly Rock to promote the band's biggest hit yet, Landslide.

Your eyes narrow as you look at Aemond,

“Don’t go through my emails”

“Tyland wrote that he’s already booked you a ticket. You have to run that by me first”, he continues in a stern voice.

As if he’s lecturing a child on bad behaviour.

You stay silent, move to the sink to pick up a glass and fill it with water. You try to distract yourself enough to breathe, anger already making you feel hot all over.

“It was a last minute decision, it’s only 2 nights next week”, you explain through clenched teeth.

You really don’t want to get into a fight right before a show, and had already decided to tell Aemond after instead. Somewhere inside, you knew he wouldn’t be happy.

“Were you not going to give me the courtesy of letting me know that you’re leaving?”

“I was going to tell you after the show”

Your body is still facing the sink so you won’t have to face him.

You can’t decide if you’re more angry with him for trying to control you, or saddened by the fact that he doesn’t trust you.

“You should’ve told me imm-”

“Aemond, you don’t own me. Stop acting like I’m your possession!”

Your irksome voice cuts him off. His still trying to keep his cool, tone refusing to match your intensity as he answers,

“But I am your husband”

“It’s just two nights away. I’ll be with Tyland the entire time”, you say, softening your tone to not trigger him further.

“Out of the question. You’re not going”, he replies stoicly and places your phone back on the kitchen island before standing up.

“That’s not for you to decide!”

Your previous attempt to remain calm fails. You almost want to laugh at the absurdity of it all; being denied a business trip by your husband like he’s your guardian.

“Yes, because we’re a team! I’d never fucking run away without you”, Aemond spits, clearly as incapable of keeping a level head as you are.

“It’s two nights away to promote the band. I’m not “running away”, you clarify and turn to face him.

You can see how exasperated he is by his stiff posture and the hard look in his seeing eye. He tries so hard to hide it, and yet you always manage to see through the facade.

“It’s good publicity”, you say.

“I said no”, is all he replies before he moves to the sideboard by the door, picking up the keys placed in a small dish resting on the polished surface.

You feel your face heat up in anger at his dismissal of your words; of your agency.

How dare he think he can dictate your life?

“Well, I don’t need your fucking permission!”, you shout back at him,

“If I want to fly to Casterly Rock, or any other fucking place, I will! You can’t stop me from doing anything, Aemond. I’ll fly to fucking Yi Ti if I so wish! You can’t-”

Your rant is cut off by a sudden loud crash by the wall next to you.

The remnants of the dish where you kept your house keys lies in shambles on the floor next to you. Your wide eyes look down at the plate's remainders in disbelief before travelling towards Aemond.

It’s like both of you are frozen in shock from his actions. His recovery seems to be quicker than yours, regret clear on his face and in his voice,

“Shit. Fuck! Sorry, I’m so sorry”

He rambles apologies in panic, clearly stunned by his own action. He tries to shuffle closer to you, but you recoil as soon as he comes near.

The shock of his action and the loud sound that accompanied it triggers something inside you, and you immediately feel tears well up in your eyes.

You feel like a child; startled and scared.

“Fuck. Sorry for scaring you, love”

His voice is much softer than mere seconds ago. Pleading.

Aemond brings his hands up slightly, a sign of surrender, and moves closer to comfort you.

You wince and back away from him, eyes still widened in disbelief.

“I’d never hurt you”, he tries to assure you.

You still can’t fully comprehend what had just happened,

“How the fuck am I supposed to believe that?”

Aemond opens his mouth to answer just as the intercom rings, signalling that the taxi is waiting downstairs.

You try to gather yourself somewhat and take a deep breath before moving to grab your bag and jacket from the hallway.

Aemond’s pitiful expression observes you, and you tell him, “When we get back, we need to talk about this. About us. I can’t take this any more”

The taxi ride to the venue is excruciating.

Aemond hasn’t said a word, but his fingers are tapping restlessly against his thigh, something you’d learned to be one of his most prominent nervous habits.

In the corner of your eye, you can see how his gaze repeatedly seeks out yours, but you refuse to look at him.

He reaches out to lightly touch your fingers, but you move away from his touch,

“I-, I don’t know what came over me, love. I am so sorry for scaring you, I promise it will never happen again”

You’re too tired to respond, and stubbornly continue to watch the city pass by through the car window.

When the cab pulls up to the live house, you can still feel the tears of shock drying on your cheeks. You thank the driver and step out of the car, before entering the backstage area.

The small room you’d been assigned to prepare in smells musky and the lights are toned down.

Helaena is nowhere to be found, but you immediately notice Jace’s brown locks in the corner of the room, seated in an armchair with his base in his lap.

On the large, brown leather sofa placed in the middle of the room sits a slouching young man with ruffled, silvery hair and purple bags under his eyes. He lights up when he sees you enter, voice slightly slurred,

“There she is! King’s Landing’s new little, uh-, fucking-, romantic, sexy sweetheart!”, Aegon drunkenly declares, smiling from ear to ear,

“Charming everyone with her sad songs”

“Hi Aegon, are you okay?”, you ask gently.

You try as hard as you can to hide the fact that you’re disappointed in seeing him so clearly intoxicated.

You know he has problems with alcohol, and despite a recent trip to rehab, he hasn’t gotten much better.

“I am, now that you’re here”, he replies with a sloppy wink.

You move towards the small fridge by the wall of the cramped room, pulling out a water bottle and handing it to him without saying a word.

He brings the bottle up in a mock cheer before opening it and taking a large sip, possibly to show you, and Aemond, that he isn’t as drunk as you assume he is.

“Always so fucking sweet to me”, he smiles at you, “Mondo, you’re a lucky guy, you know”, he addresses his brother, who’s leaning against the door, clearly displeased with the fact that Aegon hadn’t been capable of waiting until after the show before he got shit-faced.

The hostility between the brothers is clearly one-sided as the older Targaryen continues,

“I just saw the most unhinged shit online man! Some fans were discussing what her favourite position is”, he laughs out as he addresses his brother. Aemond’s face is stoic, but you can see the tension in his jaw as he fixes his eye on Aegon.

“Is it true, baby? Is it really doggy?”, he asks as his eyes shift from Aemond to you.

You’d gotten more or less used to how lewd your brother-in-law could get when he’s drunk. But being asked something so crass after the day you’d had only leaves you feeling disgusted.

“Knock it off”, Aemond’s stern voice cuts through the cramped space.

You notice Jace shifting uncomfortably in his seat, picking up the pack of cigarettes in front of him on the coffee table before standing up and heading out of the door.

You wish you could run away as well, but the tension radiating from Aemond tells you to stay put.

“Oh, come on, it’s all in good fun! I’d die to have a girlfriend with tits like that”

Whatever game Aegon thinks he’s playing with his brother is clearly one-sided. Aemond quickly jerks his head to the side to look at his brother, seeing eye darting at a speed that his blind eye’s incapable of.

“Uh oh! Eyes going two different directions!”, Aegon says with a laugh, crossing his eyes to mock Aemond,

“Can Lazy Eye look you in the face when he’s fucking you?”, he asks and he turns to you, eyes still meeting over the bridge of his nose.

“Seriously, Aegon, knock it off”, you plea.

He can turn so fucking mean when he’s drunk, hiding his own displeasure with life behind jabs at his brother.

He continues to laugh when he adds,

“One eye on your face and one on your tits? A pity he can’t see through it”.

Before you have a chance to reply, Aemond lunges forward, fist held high as he smashes it against his brother's face. Aegon keeps laughing even as blood spills from his nose, staining Aemond’s hand going in for blow after blow.

You’re frozen for a millisecond before you start to yell at him to stop, but it’s like he doesn’t hear you.

Neither does he hear his older brother’s laughs turn to grunts of pain as he begins to sober up under Aemond’s assault.

You see Aegon’s face turn slack, eyes fluttering shut like he’s going out of consciousness. Aemond continues to land punch after punch on his brother’s face and you feel panic rush inside of you.

You throw yourself on Aemonds back in an attempt to pull him away. He’s inaccessible, not listening to your desperate pleas for him to stop.

Drops of blood are flying in front of you, landing on the worn leather sofa underneath Aegon. Your arms encircle Aemond’s shoulders as you try to pull him off of his brother with all your might.

He tries to shrug you off, but as he goes in for the next hit, his elbow accidentally retracts against the side of your body, making harsh contact with your ribs.

You wail out in pain and Aemond immediately stops his assault on his brother to turn around and look at you in panicked worry.

Your body’s folded over the coffee table next to the sofa, hand placed over the spot that's hurting on the side of your stomach.

He moves away from Aegon to make his way towards you, but you back away from him by reflex, suddenly too aware of how dangerous his temperament can be.

You hurry up on your feet to quickly leave the backstage area, Aemond’s strained voice calling out your name behind you.

He’s fucking lost it.

Thinking back to everything that led up to your divorce leaves you feeling a mix of emotions, misery being the most prominent one.

This is supposed to be the highlight of your career; the band’s biggest show yet.

You don’t want to feel like this; a constant state of being filled with sorrow.

You want to enjoy performing again.

You can hear the crowd call for you to come out on stage, and you feel nerves ebbing through your veins in anxious waves.

“Aemond wanted to perform ‘Never Going Back Again’ as the first part of the encore later on”, Helaena says and looks at you. You feel even more restless.

“And I thought maybe you have another new song to sing? Maybe the one you sent me a recording of?”

Her hand comes up to rest reassuringly on your upper arm. You know which one she means, even if she doesn’t say anything else. The song.

“I told the guys it’s called ‘Silver Springs’, they’ll know which one it is from recording. I know we haven’t practised it together but Dreams was such a hit with the fans, I’m sure they’ll love this one too”, she says and smiles gently in that way only she’s capable of.

The thought of Aemond performing ‘Never Going Back Again’, on top of singing ‘The Chain’ and ‘Go Your Own Way’, lights a fuse inside of you.

You look over at him,

“Okay”

This is it.

The stage, vast and intimidating, seems to close in as the intro to ‘Silver Springs’ starts to play.

You have no idea if Aemond had listened to the voice recordings for the song.

You asked Helaena to do backup vocals instead of him on the track, hoping that would make the song feel less of a testament to your heartbreak.

‘You could be my silver spring’

‘Blue-green, colours flashing’

‘I would be your only dream’

‘Your shining autumn, ocean crashing’

What if he had read the lyrics?

Had he pondered them weeks after, dreading to hear you sing them on stage?

‘And don’t say that she’s pretty’

‘And did you say that she loved you?’

‘Baby I don’t wanna know’

Had he even cared?

Your longing gets the best of you, and you glance over at Aemond.

‘So I begin not to love you’

‘Turn around, see me runnin’’

‘I say “I loved you years ago”’

‘Tell myself you’d never loved me’

His face is stoic; good eye already observing you.

He might look calm to the audience, but you can see the tension in his jaw. You see how he’s breathing heavily out of his nose.

His grip on the guitar seems bruising, fingers moving skillfully; never making a mistake.

You quickly look away.

Why do you suddenly find him so intimidating?

‘And don’t say that she’s pretty’

‘And did you say that she loves you?’

‘Baby, I don’t wanna know’

‘And can you tell me, was it worth it?’

‘Baby, I don’t wanna know’

Your own lyrics prickle your heart.

Do you tell yourself he never loved you because that’d be easier?

What if it was true, that he never really loved you?

He’d been possessive over you. And he’d been controlling. But that’s not love.

Loving someone means you care for their well-being and happiness, over anything else.

You know he loves Alicent and Helaena. He treats them differently from how he’s been with you; he was so much gentler with them.

Picking fights with you over nothing, controlling your life and not letting you be happy, that's not love.

Worst of all, he doesn’t act like that with Alys.

Does he love her?

‘Time cast a spell on you, but you won’t forget me’

‘I know I could have loved you, but you would not let me’

You think back to how your relationship once was.

When he was your biggest supporter, erasing any doubts you had about your own talent. Always reassuring you that you were worthy.

That man is not the one sharing a stage with you now.

The sorrow over losing your beloved husband turns to anger, and you need him to know.

He needs to see how much he hurt you.

‘Time cast a spell on you, but you won’t forget me’

You can’t look away, not even when tears start forming in the corners of your eyes.

Aemond’s seeing eye looks so dead; completely void of emotion. His knuckles are white from the force in which he’s holding his guitar.

‘I know I could have loved you, but you would not let me’

Every emotion you’ve tried to suppress comes crashing over you;

Anger.

Hurt.

Betrayal.

Grief.

But you won’t let him win. You can’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you broken.

You feel a tear escape down your cheek, but you refuse to look away from his face as you keep singing,

‘I’ll follow you down ‘til the sound of my voice can haunt you’

‘Oh, give it just a chance’

‘You’ll never get away from the sound of the woman that loved you’

Despite standing in front of thousands of people, despite what happened in his hotel room, this feels like the most intimate exchange you’ve had in months. You want him to see how much he hurt you.

You want him to feel bad.

To hurt too.

‘Was I such a fool?’

‘I’ll follow you down ‘til the sound of my voice can haunt you’

Your voice almost breaks from the sheer force of the emotions pouring out of you, but you manage, singing with nothing but raw emotion and sorrow-fuelled rage. More tears slide down your cheeks.

‘Oh, give it just a chance’

‘You’ll never get away from the sound of the woman that loved you’

‘Time cast a spell on you, but you won’t forget me’

‘I know I could have loved you, but you would not let me’

You finish up the concert on auto-pilot, not really present anymore. As soon as you finish playing The Chain, you make your way back to the hotel.

You throw the door to your room open, kick off your shoes, and dive into the back of the closet where you store your clothes.

You pull out Aemond’s university hoodie from the black bin bag you’d tossed it in, anger consuming you just by the sight of it.

Fuck him.

You look around the hotel room for something sharp; a pair of scissors, a wine opener, a fork, anything. You spot the small pair of scissors you use to trim your nails with on the nightstand and grab them before stabbing one of the tiny blades into the soft material of the hoodie.

Fuck him.

Your vision turns blurry as tears well up in your eyes for the second time this evening, but the tiny bit of relief you feel from ruining something of Aemond’s is intoxicating.

You put your fingers through the small holes you’d made in the fabric and pull with all your strength, ripping the shirt over and over until it’s nothing but a pile of scraps of fabric.

Fuck him.

A/N: Thank you for readig! 🫶

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