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adragonprinceswhore · 6 months ago

Text

Rumours

Aemond Targaryen x (Ex)Wife

Chapter III: Dreams 🎼 Masterlist

Summary: You miss Aemond, yet you can’t stand to be near him. Will performing a new song about your separation make you feel better?

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, angst, toxic relationship dynamic, possessive Aemond, fighting, smut, oral (f receiving), spanking, thigh riding, P in V, thumb in bum, spit kink, degradation

Word count: 5750 A/N: Thank you always my love @theoneeyedprince ♡

“This is the third day in a row that guy comes in here, orders a coffee, and pretends to work on his laptop as he stares at you”, Alysanne whispers in your ear and points to the silver haired man sitting in the back corner of the campus coffee shop.

He’s clad entirely in black, and his long hair is neatly tied in a low bun at the base of his neck.

“You should go talk to him!”, she urges with a gentle push on your shoulder.

“What? No. He’s not been staring at me”, you shut her nonsense down, slightly embarrassed by your friend's pushiness. Alysanne is such a hopeless romantic; always convinced that the love of your life’s lurking around the next corner, constantly looking for a ‘meet cute’ to thrust you into.

“Oh, come on! He’s definitely been checking you out! Maybe he’s just shy?”, she argues, staring at the stranger unabashedly as he sips his coffee. Her lack of discretion fuels the nerves bubbling inside you, eager to end this embarrassing conversation as soon as possible.

“Aly, please. A guy like that doesn’t get shy. Typical rich fuckboy”

He certainly is good-looking, and probably knows it as well, dark designer clothes a stark contrast to the surrounding patron’s jeans and sweatshirts. He looks to be around your age, a student as well, you’d guess.

Alysanne hums in response, moves to stand by the display of sweets by the register, and places a cinnamon bun on one of the small dishes stacked on the counter.

Before your protests stop her, she walks towards where the stranger is sitting, a wide smile plastered on her face,

“Hi there! My lovely friend and coworker over there made these earlier today. Would you like one?”

Her voice is unnaturally cheery as she places the dish on the table next to the stranger's laptop.

He looks up, nods stiffly in confirmation, and quietly mumbles a “thank you” before quickly returning to type on the keyboard, eyes again on the screen.

“Would you like to talk to her? I can ask her to come over here”, Alysanne offers, voice still upbeat, so energetic it nearly comes across as intrusive.

The stranger seems slightly thrown off by her forwardness. He looks up at her in surprise, but stays silent.

To anyone else, his stoicism and unfriendly demeanour would be enough reason to leave him be. But not Alysanne, who turns around to catch your eye and gesticulates for you to come over with an exaggerated wave of her hand.

From behind the register, you’d watched the scene unfold in horror, certain that your friend would embarrass you to the point where ‘rich fuckboy’ would tell everyone on campus about what a freak you are.

You slowly make your way over, eyes boring holes into Alysanne as you force yourself to smile, dreading the inevitable faked niceties you’ll have to exchange with the strange, silver-haired man.

His face is even prettier up-close.

High cheekbones, strong jawline, sharp nose, beautiful eye-

Your gaze stops at his left eye. The baby blue iris is covered by a thin mist of white, and a red, angry scar slashes through the socket, starting at his forehead and ending at cheekbone.

“Hope you like it”, you blurt out, trying to grab Alysanne’s hand and tug her away from the unbelievably awkward interaction. She’s still smiling, dodging your hand while her attention stays on the stranger in front of you,

“Would you like her number?”

Alysanne persistence causes dread to pool in your gut. God, she could be so forward it was disturbing; completely ignoring what you thought to be common social decency.

Your heart is hammering in your chest as the stranger hums at your friend’s question,

“Actually, I wanted to ask you about the open mic last week. Did you write that song?”

“‘Planets of the Universe’? Um, yes, but it’s not really finished, um, I mean, I just sang it for fun, I was kinda drunk last Friday..”

Your babbling reflects how the stranger makes you feel; nervous and unsure. His face is impassive, and his tone so unemotional it borders on stern.

You only performed that silly song because your friends were pushy and you were buzzing on way too many margaritas. Why does he care about who wrote it?

“You’re not a guitarist, I assume?”, he asks and you notice the corners of his lips briefly turn upwards, as if to prevent a smile from breaking out.

God, the audacity of this rich fuckboy.

“No, but like I said, it was just for fun”, you bite back.

You don’t care for his condescending tone, or his efforts to make you feel bad about your sub-par guitar skills. Does he not understand what ‘just for fun’ means?

The stranger’s gaze is still locked on you as he hums in response. He stares with an intensity that leaves you feeling even more unsettled.

“You’ve got a very unique voice”

The unexpected compliment takes you by surprise, and a warmth spreads over your face; heating up your cheeks.

“My siblings and I play a bit of music on the side, for fun” he says with an emphasis on the last part, mimicking you, “I think your voice would go well with the sound we’re trying to create”

He sounds very matter-of-fact, like he’s offering you a business proposal. You notice something shine in his intense gaze; something inviting that makes it hard for you to concentrate on what he says.

“The song you performed has great potential, with a proper guitarist backing you up, that is. If you’re interested, we’re meeting up tomorrow night”

You’re briefly lost for words, not expecting him to be so forward. Alysanne is practically vibrating with excitement next to you, glancing over at you with a wide smile and big, expectant eyes.

“Sure, I’ll stop by after work”

Your infatuation with Aemond started slow.

Essentially, it was the small things he did that pushed you to the realisation that he isn’t just some ‘rick fuckboy’, but a quite caring and sensitive man. Albeit with a layer of stoicism obscuring his more tender side.

Things like him insisting that he needs to walk you home after band practice, even if it’s still bright outside. Or him picking you up in his car when it rains, so you ‘don’t catch a cold’. Or him offering to help you with coursework, surprising you with detailed, hand-written notes tucked in between the pages of your textbook.

Aemond is caring in such a genuine way, always asking you how your studies are going, how work at the campus cafe is like, if you’d eaten anything. Always straight-to-the-point. And when you answer, he listens to you with such intensity, you’d think whatever comes out of your mouth is of grave importance. For the most part, it’s not.

You soon find yourself looking forward to seeing him, heart skipping a beat every time he picks you up after you've finished your shift at the cafe. He always waited outside of the cafe, observing you tidying up through the shop window with a cigarette glowing between his fingers.

When he asks you one day if you’d like to grab dinner after practice, you eagerly accept his invitation, trying your hardest to hide the excitement you feel as he says a quick goodbye to his brother and sister before leading you out of the studio you used for practice.

It’s not a date, not really, yet when you sit next to Aemond in that dimly lit booth at the rather posh Yi-Ti-inspired restaurant he’d picked, it sure feels like one.

That night, after sharing a bottle of wine, your face is warm and you’re filled with alcohol-infused confidence. As you talk animatedly about your favourite musician, Aemond regards you with a small smile playing on his lips, eyes intensely meeting yours to take in all your telling him. You feel a sudden urge to kiss him, and though it is chaste and unplanned; a result of your slight intoxication, you feel mortified as you pull back, ready to apologise for placing your lips on his without consent. Before you have a chance, he places a hand on your cheek and pulls your face back towards his, kissing you passionately, though his lips are soft and gentle.

As you pull away, eyes still closed and mind lost in the bliss of your first kiss, you hear Aemond murmur a quiet “finally”.

As a partner, Aemond seems to study you just as diligently as he studies everything else.

He quickly picks up on your favourite things.

If you’d been admiring a particular flower when you passed by the flower shop on your way to campus, you’d later find a bouquet waiting for you at home. When you went to museums and exhibitions together, he’d lean in next to you, one hand gently on your waist and soft lips right by your ear, and tell you everything he knew about the artist or artwork in front of you. Later, he’d buy you postcards of the paintings you’d shown particular fascination with, so you could decorate your bedroom wall with them.

Though he claimed that his knowledge of the arts simply stemmed from being a history major, explaining that “art is one of the greatest insights we have to previous decades”, you have a strong suspicion he actually knows so much because there’s a secret love for the arts tucked away inside him, where he keeps the more sensitive parts of his soul.

Sometimes you’re privy to that too.

Like the time he wanted to take you out to a fancy restaurant downtown to celebrate your six month anniversary. Being a student, you didn’t really have money to spend on anything besides rent and food, meaning that you hadn’t been able to reciprocate the lovely gifts Aemond had given you since you first got together.

Determined to give him something meaningful, you purchase a small frame from the local charity shop, print out some pictures you’d taken together from the university library, and put together a little collage of your time as a couple.

You include a message on the back of it, thanking him for everything he’s done for you; for being such a caring boyfriend.

As you timidly hand him your homemade gift at the luxurious restaurant, you feel a storm of unease swirl within you, suddenly overcome with embarrassment that you couldn’t get him anything nicer.

Aemond’s eyes light up in a way you’d hardly seen before.

He turns the gift over in his hand, admiring the photo collage and reading the little message on the back.

Grabbing your hand, he looks into your eyes and says a quiet “thank you”, and the gravity and sincerity of his voice lets you know that he appreciates the simple gift more than he can put into words.

The coming week you stick to the same set list; kicking off each performance with ‘The Chain’ and finishing with ‘Go Your Own Way’. You’d like to pretend that the performances got easier as time went on, but that would be a lie.

Each night, you’re forced to sing Aemond’s self-pitying words; ‘if I could, I’d give you my world’. You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes each time. What made him incapable of ‘giving you his world’ when you were married? He made it sound like he had no part in your divorce; like all he did was try and love you while you broke his heart.

Fuck that.

He broke your heart. And he kept breaking it. Every fucking night he made you sing his martyr complex bullshit.

It wasn’t anything new, not really. This is how it so often went when you fought as a married couple, it had just taken a new form. The bones of it are the same; Aemond is upset and shuts you out, you try to reason with him and get burnt.

There’s something about his attitude when you find yourselves in a fight. He could turn so condescending, berating you for your emotions. Like he’s better than you for not letting them get the best of him; for not shouting or crying.

He thinks showing that something hurts him is a sign of weakness. That he’s too smart to let his insecurities and doubts overtake his senses. So he can pretend he doesn’t feel such unbecoming emotions.

Even when they prove too strong to push down.

Aemond has been quiet for the entire trip back home, jaw shut tight and eyes refusing to meet yours.

You know something’s off in the way his usual stoicism doesn’t feel natural, but forced. He’s holding something back, keeping something from you, and you can’t figure it out for the life of you.

As you enter your flat, he finally breaks the silence.

“Did you like that?”

His voice is colder than you’re used to. You recognise the tone though, from when he’s had enough of Aegon’s endless shenanigans.

You step out of your heels and turn around to face him, “Like what? The party?”

His face is set in a frown and he irritably clicks his tongue at your obliviousness,

“You know what I mean, don’t play dumb”

You really have no idea what could’ve prompted his sour mood, so you stay quiet, waiting for him to continue. You don’t feel like playing these games with him; they won’t lead anywhere.

If he’d just tell you what made him upset, you could solve the issue and move on.

He sighs at the lack of answer, “You liked all that attention, didn’t you?”

Oh.

He’s jealous.

“Oh come on, Aemond, this is great for the band! We’re getting recognition! We’re recording our first album!”

You don’t want him to rob you off the excitement you’d felt today, talking to one of Westeros biggest record labels and finally getting the recognition you’d worked so hard for.

He turns to face you, features still stern as he backs you into the wall,

“But did you like it? The way that guy from the record label was eyeing you?”, he asks again.

You know Aemond has a tendency to get protective of you; fussing over you and insisting that you listen to him. And when he’s caring, and when you feel anxious, it feels comforting to have someone protect you so fiercely. But you’re not a child, and he doesn’t have to treat you as one.

“Why would I like it?”

Your challenge makes him move closer. You see the way his pupil is blown wide, the heat in his gaze radiating off him.

“I think you did. I think you enjoy the attention”

It’s almost laughable; the fact that Aemond Targaryen, undoubtedly one of the most alluring people you’ve ever met, feels threatened by some sleazy guy from a record label. How could he think some guy flirting with you would affect your affection for him even in the slightest?

Still, there’s something intriguing about the dark look in his eye. It’s so passionate; the way he observes you. Like he wants to devour you. Punish you. Claim you.

It sparks something alight inside you. You want to match his fire.

“Maybe I did”

You have to bite your lip to prevent a smirk from breaking out. Will he fall for the provocation?

Aemond’s eyes narrow. They travel from your face down to your body, and his arms come up to cage you against the wall of your hallway,

“You like tormenting me, is that it?”, he asks lowly and presses the tip of his nose to the side of your face, trailing it down your cheek.

You wrap your arms around his neck, lowering your lips to press kisses onto his neck,

“Yes”, you say against his skin, a light chuckle escaping your lips.

It’s almost cute when he gets like this, and so flattering in the most twisted way. He’s just as enchanted by you as you are by him.

He startles you by pulling away, grabbing you by your waist and flipping your body so you’re suddenly facing the wall.

He rucks up the short skirt of your cocktail dress with much more force than necessary and a firm smack lands on your ass. The sudden sting of pain makes you inhale sharply and you feel your pulse elevate with excitement.

Behind you, Aemond drops to his knees, kisses your stinging backside, and pulls at the flimsy material of your thong until it tears in two, falling to the floor.

His insatiable display causes desire to pulse within you; an ache that nestles itself between your thighs and beats as fast as your heart.

Pushing on your lower back, he urges you to lean forward as he continues to soothe the aching flesh of your ass with sweet kisses.

The chill air of the room feels strange against your hot, wet cunt, and you wish he’d touch you in the place you needed him most. The place that painfully pounds with want for him.

As if he could read your mind, Aemond grabs the front of your thighs with his large, warm hands and he presses his face against your exposed cunt, unwilling to waste any more time as he swipes his tongue over your swollen clit.

You moan in gratitude and your forehead falls to make contact with the wall in front of you, the sweat of your forehead sticking to the cool surface.

He knows exactly how to work you; how to make you squirm and tense up and reach your peak in no time.

With each movement of his tongue against your clit, you feel your peak grow closer; an embarrassingly fast release only your beloved could elicit.

As you lose yourself in the pleasure, and your hips begin to move in tandem with Aemond’s tongue, his debauched kisses lessen, and he pulls away from your cunt, wiping his sticky face against the back of your thigh.

You let out a frustrated whine, turn around to face him, and look down at him, still on his knees.

“That’s just cruel, Aemond”

He looks so beautiful kneeling in front of you, long hair dishevelled and cheeks flustered pink.

“Maybe I like tormenting you as well”

He still has that darkness dancing in his eyes, but now accompanied by the playful grin that’s spreading across his face. He stands, leans in so closely your body gets pushed against the wall behind you, and places one of his legs between your naked thighs,

“Beg me to fuck you”

He rocks his jeans-clad thigh against your exposed core as he makes his demand; blue colour quickly darkening from the stain of your arousal.

You throw your head back and moan at the pleasurable friction, the harshness of the fabric providing wonderful relief to your aching clit. Your hips quickly meet the rhythm of his thigh, and when he lowers his face to bite at your nipple through the thin material of your dress, you feel your previously denied release approach once more.

You move yourself more forcefully against his thigh, and as your movements turn sloppy from pleasure tightening inside you, he pulls away yet again.

You know you look like a mess with your hair frizzy from the friction of the wall, spit covering the fabric over your nipple, and the lower part of your body fully exposed; inner thighs sticky from arousal.

“Aemond, please”, you whine as he straightens up, face wholly entertained by your miserable state.

“Beg me to fuck you”, he repeats, this time slower and with emphasis on each word.

You bite your lip and look at him. You can see the hardness of his cock straining against his jeans, but you know he’ll never relent; never give you what you want until you give him what he wants.

“Please”, you plead, hands moving forward his zipper to undo his trousers.

He tuts and slaps your hands away,

“Beg”, he repeats, face returning to its previous, stern expression.

You’d like to think you’re as good as him at playing these games. But you’re not. You don’t have the patience.

“Please fuck me Aemond. Please make me come, please make me feel good, please stretch me out on your cock, please-”

Your pathetic surrender is cut off by his lips on yours, kissing you passionately, stealing your breath.

Pulling down his zipper, he takes his length in hand; rock hard and glistening with arousal. He pushes your body up against the wall and you quickly catch on, wrapping your legs around him as he enters you in one swift motion.

“Fuck! Thank you!”, you cry out when he finally gives you what you want, and an amused snort espaces his nose.

Aemond wastes no time in ravishing you and sets a brutal pace, pelvis repeatedly hitting your clit as his cock hits your g-spot. You’re unable to do much more than to just take it; take the mind-numbing pleasure he’s forcing upon you.

For the third time, your peak is within reach, so close your cunt starts to tighten around Aemond’s cock. To your dismay, his pace slows, and you’re back to begging,

“Please, I’m so close. Please let me come Aemond”

He pulls out, smiles at the devastated frown on your face, and turns you around once more.

This time, he presses your body against the small side table by the front door, pushing his hand on the back of your head so that the side of your face makes contact with the wooden surface, ass prettily propped up and glistening entrance waiting for him.

He presses the slick tip of his cock against your leaking hole, and pauses without entering. His large form looms over you as his hand reaches for your face, thumb stroking your lower lip, pulling it down to reveal your teeth,

“Who do you belong to?”

His voice is lower, and calmer, than before. You look up at him; at his lust-filled eyes and kiss-swollen lips.

You. Always you.

“You”

Aemond’s thumb is still on your lower lip. He leans down and pushes his length fully into you again, making you let out a cry in blissful relief.

God it feels so good.

You see him purse his lips together, spit collecting between them, and he slowly lets it drip down to where his thumb is.

Onto your lower lip, your tongue, your teeth.

He smears his spit around your lips and tongue with his thumb, pace of his hips picking up to thrust into you harder. The table beneath you rocks against the wall aggressively loud.

“Would you let anyone else fuck you like this?”, he asks, trailing his spit-soaked thumb down your body, stopping between your asscheeks to push at your puckered hole. “Never”, you assure, moaning as he pushes his thumb in, never ceasing the pace he’s set as he fucks you on the table. “Didn’t think so. You’re my little slut. Mine. No one else will ever see you as fucking cockdrunk as I do”

Maybe it’s the heat of his tone. The dark, possessive passion that excites you, even in its volatility.

Maybe it’s the way he knows your body. How he can turn you into a begging, pathetic mess by the briefest of touches.

It’s hard to decipher what makes your orgasm feel so utterly consuming, but when it hits, and your body shakes from the force of it, you know that no one else will ever have this effect on you.

You. Always you.

You’ve made it a habit to go back to your hotel room between the sound check and the show, not able to bear spending more time around Aemond than absolutely necessary.

Both of you had tried to keep up with the cordial act, but even Erryk had started to catch on to how forced each of your interactions felt. Whenever you or Aemond addressed the other, everyone around you tense up and the air feels thick; like you’re all just waiting for what’s bubbling beneath the surface to finally erupt.

Tonight, as you’re getting ready for the tour’s fifth stop in White Harbor, no amount of breathing exercises seem to lessen your nerves, making your hands clammy and heart flimmer in anxious anticipation.

You’re finally going to perform one of your new songs for Rumours.

What if the fans hate it?

Writing has helped you deal with the aftermath of your separation; a tedious effort to make the painful end of your relationship into something meaningful. A song about lost love.

What if it sounds awful live?

Recording separately means that this will be the first time the band actually plays the song, as opposed to each member recording their own part in solitude.

The song sounded good in post-production. It’ll sound great live too.

You try to repeat the comforting phrase to yourself as you spot Aemond and Alys in your peripheral vision; her arms around his neck, his lips coming down to brush against her cheek.

You don’t know if you’d rather barf or cry at the display, but when Aemond’s seeing eye briefly searches for yours, your stomach turns in disgust.

The intro of your new song starts to play; upbeat drums accompanied by a melancholic guitar melody. Aemond plays it flawlessly, just like you knew he would.

This is it. Your time to shine; to actualise the pain that’s been wearing you down for the past months. To make it into something that means something.

Your music.

‘Now there you go again, you say, you want your freedom’

‘Well who am I to keep you down?’

You don’t want to look at Aemond, don’t want to mimic the staring contest he challenges you to each time he sings ‘The Chain’ or ‘Go Your Own Way’.

You’re not doing this for him, you’re doing this for yourself. To make sense of the suffering he’s caused you. You’re doing it for the fans; all those who can resonate with what you’re singing.

‘But listen carefully to the sound of your loneliness’

‘Like a heartbeat drives you mad in the stillness of remembering what you had’

‘And what you lost’

Oh but gods, do you want to throw him a quick glance though.

See hurt in his eye.

See his jaw tick in anger at your words.

‘Thunder only happens when it’s raining’

‘Players only love you when they’re playing’

Now you understand why he wanted you to do backup vocals on his new songs. You feel so powerful as you make him sing your lyrics, a sudden rush of hubris getting the best of you as you steal a glance of him.

‘They say women, they will come and they will go’

‘When the rain washes you clean, you’ll know’

You’re disappointed to find him in his usual state, stoic face turned away from you.

The recent rage-filled, passionate tone his voice had adopted is gone. He sounds just as calm and precise as he usually does.

‘Now here I go again, I see the crystal vision’

‘I keep my visions to myself’

‘It’s only me who wants to wrap around your dreams’

‘Have you any dreams you’d like to sell?’

‘Dreams of loneliness like a heartbeat drives you mad’

‘In the stillness of remembering what you had’

‘And what you lost’

Like the previous nights, you’re in a rush to get back to your hotel room as soon as the show ends.

As are your bandmates; no one really enjoys the tension that seems to be a permanent feature whenever you are all in the same room.

As you’re about to jump into a taxi with Helaena outside of the venue, you realise that you forgot the tote bag you keep your notebooks and music sheets in backstage. You tell her to go ahead and quickly make your way back to retrieve your forgotten bag.

A security guard lets you back in and you spot your tote immediately, laying on one of the many cheap fold-out tables lining the walls of the room. As you make your way towards it, you hear someone clear their throat in the other corner of the room.

You’ve no idea what he wants, but you turn around in an instance, leaving your bag on the table.

Aemond is sitting by himself in a dark corner of the large room, stomping out a cigarette onto the silver ashtray he's holding in his left hand. He places it on the ground and leans back in his seat,

“I never said that, you know”.

His voice is low. He sounds tired.

“Said what?”

You’re still sadistically disappointed by the fact that he’d acted so indifferent during your performance of ‘Dreams’, and it reflects in your voice. He has a talent of bringing it out of you.

“I never said ‘women come and go’, or whatever. The reporter said it”

His voice grows more irksome with each word, matching yours.

Sure, he hadn’t said it. But he might as well have.

“Whatever, Aemond”, you sigh, too tired to engage in pointless discussion with him. You turn to leave, reaching for your bag, but he stops you once again,

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t perform that song again”.

You let out a startled, joy-less laugh at his audacity, “Too bad”

“Then change the lyrics. It’s obviously about our… relationship”

You can sense strain in his voice. He’s holding something back.

Maybe you finally got to him.

“So are your new songs”, you counter.

He is such a hypocrite, it’s almost laughable. An unbecoming characteristic of his that reared its ugly head more frequently as your relationship got worse.

“I never say they are though. You’re quoting me, hard to assume it could be about anyone else”

His voice is low and dark, you have to focus to properly hear him.

“Thought you didn’t say that?”

You have to bite the inside of your lower lip to keep yourself from grinning as you add,

“Maybe the song is about the reporter?”

The provocation works. Aemond swiftly stands up, seeing eye dark and threatening as his voice grows louder,

“My songs aren’t filled with blatant lies, you’re calling me names and shit”

His nostrils are flaring as he breathes heavily, hand flexing in an attempt to stifle his rage.

You’d got to him.

“You can’t be for real, Aemond! Every fucking time you perform your new songs you're staring at me on stage, singing about how I can ‘go my own, lonely way’! You have no right dictating what I write or how I express myself”.

He’d gotten to you too. You can’t hide your irritation any longer, a whole week being in his insufferable presence proving to be too much.

It’s his turn to throw a condescending laugh your way.

“Well, you’re the one who kept going on about how lonely you were”

Back when you were still together, when the fights had became a permanent, unavoidable recurrence, you had accused Aemond of never truly letting you in, leaving you feeling lonely in your relationship.

But there’s a difference between feeling disconnected from your partner, and being unable to be on your own.

“You couldn’t be alone for a second, Aemond, that’s how fucking lonely you are. How long did it take you to hook up with Alys? 3 days!?”

“Because you left me!”, he shouts back.

And there it is; the anger that he pretends he doesn't have within himself. The ugly, raw emotion he thinks he’s too good to let overtake his senses.

His voice isn’t cold anymore.

His face isn’t indifferent.

His eyes shine with heartbreak, but so do yours.

“You chased me away with your fucking obsessive behaviour! You deserved to be left!”

Sometimes when you fought when you were married, you’d hold yourself back, still trying to protect Aemond’s feelings to some degree by not purposefully hurting him just because you were angry.

Not anymore.

He grimaces slightly at your words and you feel a sick sense of satisfaction.

He deserves it.

You can’t bear to look at him, and you can’t hear anything either, heartbeat thumping in your ears so loudly it’s giving you a headache.

If you stay, and see that the fire in his eye has been extinguished by regret, you might cave in.

You can’t.

So you turn around, grab your bag in a haste and storm out of the door, rushing to get hold of a taxi on the busy street by the venue.

You hold it together in the car ride to the hotel. You thank the driver and offer him a tip, you enter the building and go to the elevator, smile at an elderly couple who engage you in some polite smalltalk about the weather.

It’s not until you enter your hotel room and lock the door behind you that you allow the tears to fall.

They seem endless, and all you want to do is crawl into bed and sleep.

Seeing the empty space, the empty bed, makes you feel so lonely a stinging pain goes through your chest. You're pulled back to the memories of living with Aemond, coming back home to him; sleeping in the same bed as him.

You miss him so much it hurts. Not the person you’d just had a fight with backstage. You miss the Aemond he was before; your Aemond.

You think about the Aemond in the museum, who’d tell you about the history of the Water Gardens and Prince Maron Martell.

You think about the Aemond that kissed your forehead before each show.

You think about the Aemond that loved you.

You go to your closet, stretch your arm all the way to the back, and search for what you know to be there. Your hand finds the soft sweatshirt and you pull it out from the dark corners of your hotel room closet, quickly pulling off all of your clothes until you’re standing in nothing but your underwear.

Aemond’s uni hoodie still smells like him. You cry harder, uglier, as you put it on, burying your nose in the fabric and inhaling deeply.

Maybe the Aemond you miss still exists in your dreams.

You get under the duvet, nose still nuzzled in the soft fabric and body shaking from the violent sobs leaving your body, and fall asleep.

A/N: Before you ask, no. She doesn’t know if Aemond met Alys exactly three days after their separation. She’s exaggerating for emphasis, as one often does when fighting. The point is that he “moved on” suspiciously fast.

Planets of the Universe is a demo song that never made it onto Rumours, but it so good; very raw and real. TY for reading 🩵

#aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond x you #modern aemond #my fics #rumours

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brummiereader · 2 months ago

Text

Binding Love (Part Five/ Dark!Tommy)

Summary: After your attempts to stop your child's innocent curiosity from revealing the secrets your husband had kept buried at the bottom of your garden. Tommy learns of your frightful discovery and his sins he wished to keep unearthed. Will you be able to escape in time before your husband's threatening shift of character returns?

Warnings: Dark!Tommy, language, violence, psychological mind games, controlling behaviour, toxic relationship, manipulative behaviour, psychological abuse, mutual pining, angst, murder.

Word Count: 4K

Authors Note: The song "Little Tommy Tucker" is an old English nursery rhyme from the 1700's. A song Tommy Shelby would have known.

[Masterlist] [Previous Part] [Trailer]

"102, you have a fever. No school today" you placed the glass thermometer on your daughter's bedside table before tucking her securely under her frilly duvet.

" I'm not sick" Elsie pouted, wriggling her arms out of the cocoon of covers.

" It's lying, Mummy!" she huffed, flipping herself away from you as she kicked off the last of her covers with her little legs.

" What's going on here, eh?" Tommy opened the door, looping his tie through its knot as you sprang up from the edge of your daughter's side, grabbing the piping hot glass of water off her cabinet.

" She's sick" you quickly replied, darting to the window as you guzzled down the tumblers' scorching contents. Proof of your calculated plan of action, a plan that deemed it imperative your daughter stay home for the day.

" She doesn't feel hot, love" Tommy rested the back of his hand on her head as he glanced down at the contradicting dial of the thermometer whilst your trembling hands clasped around your burning throat.

" So I can go to school?" your daughter's hazel eyes beamed up at her father, eager to keep her high score and winning position in the competitive game of hop scotch that had taken over play time every day going on near a week.

" No Elsie!" you snapped with a strained voice, resting the weight of your body on the windowsill with shaky hands as your eyes, rimmed red with countless hours of little sleep, honed in on the daily reminder of the crime scene hidden beyond the trees a short distance from your childs bedroom.

" Listen to your mother, eh?" Tommy's eyes darted to you with concern, brows creasing at your usually contained patience for your daughter's head strong determination.

" Tell me then, what have I done?" you felt your husband's hands slip around your waist with a chuckle, cheek pressing against yours as you squeezed your eyes shut. Shutting out the intrusive thoughts of his murderous hobbies and the hands that committed them wrapped around your body.

How long could you keep this up before he learnt of your discovery? you thought to yourself as you turned around to face the pair of loving blues gazing at you, the calloused pads of his hands laced in sin, soothingly stroking circles into the curves of your hips.

" Nothing" you shook your dipping head from the knitted brow, from the searching eyes unconvinced of your response staring back at you.

" I'm probably coming down with something too, is all" your eyes darted up to the fading smile of your husband, his soft touch coming to a sudden stop. Sudden enough that his silent observations had a ball of nerves fall to your already uneasy stomach, sick of the gruesome secrets your husband had been keeping buried.

Trembling hands gliding up his arms, you quickly turned your welling eyes from him as you settled your head on his chest. If not to only settle the turning wheels behind his crystal aubes from seeking the truth of your jittery composure, but to give yourself a brief moment to gather your wrecked nerves before you finally cracked under the weight of his searing stare.

Arms wrapping around you, Tommy breathed heavily into the locks of your hair, pressing a longing kiss to the top of your crown as his heavy hands stroked along your back. Fooled for a brief moment by your affectionate display you had begun to perfect.

" You're going to be late" you pulled away with a forced smile of any loving wife, tending to him as you smoothed the creases of his shirt your shaky body had crumpled before returning to your child, away from his luring affections that would have you stop you from doing the unthinkable. Fleeing.

As the sound of your husband's heavy footsteps, and roar of his Bentley's engine announced his leave, you raced from your hovering position in the landing hallway to his office and the only phone in your grand home.

" 56 Whitby Lane, Birmingham. Mrs Langing" your breathy voice echoed down the line as your eyes darted away from the blissful image of you and Tommy on your wedding day, sat within the four corners of a wooden frame on top of his desk.

" Putting you through" the operator replied as the faint sound of her plugging your line into the switchboard could be heard through each shaky breath that left your throat.

" How are you Dorothy? Been keeping well after your fall down Earlsberry Road?" you said what had been instructed to you countless times as your eyes darted to the clock on the wall, counting each tick of the hand until two minutes had passed.

As idle chat about the weather and village gossip continued, your heart began to rapidly race within your chest as you feared you would run out of meaningless conversation before the listening ear of the operator finally hung up.

" Yes, they say it might warm up by the weekend" you hoped the dreary discussion of weather would have her opt out of the call earlier than anticipated when your voice came to a stuttering stop, fingers seconds from ending the conversation as the love shared between you and Tommy in the black and white picture caught your drifting eyes once again.

You could just forget about it. Ignore it. Pretend like you hadn't seen anything, you selfishly thought to yourself, desperately trying to push the faces of the men that found themselves in the crossfire of your and Tommy's crumbling marriage from your thoughts as you felt your heart being pulled back to the loving side of your husband he still baited you with.

" Y/N?" you heard your name through the crackling line.

" Are you there? She's gone." the stranger whose voice you only knew, a stranger who held your life in their hands, your desperation you trusted they would relay to the officer who had first sought you out as you wiped the blurry image of you and Tommy from your tears and followed through with your decision.

" I'll give him any information he needs. Please, just get me and my child to safety before it's too late"

" Moles, big ones" your feet came to a stop upon hearing the muffled voice of your child from outside the kitchen door as you leant your tired body on it's frame, having spent the remainder of the morning aimlessly pacing the halls of your home until the impending hour of your departure striked.

" D'you want me to shoot 'em down for you El? Pop 'em off one by one?" you heard a low hearty chuckle respond as you threw open the door in fear your daughters' innocent curiosities would land you in a six-foot deep grave next to said, mole hills.

"Johnny" your hand flew to your chest as you saw Tommy's close confidant and friend to the family ruffling your daughter's hair as he sat beside her at the kitchen table with a cigar perched between his teeth.

" Elsie here says you've got moles" he questioned, grinning back at your daughter whose kicking legs and dimpled smile was pleased someone was enthusiastic as her about Arrow Houses new neighbours after your continued endeavour to have her forget about her gruesome discovery.

" Elsie, that's enough. Stop telling Johnny porkies" you scolded her as you busied yourself with the piling dishes in the sink, feeling the guilt of your lies heating your cheeks as your daughter began to profusely insist on their existence.

" Your imagination will get you into mischief one day" you felt your heart sink at each reprimanding word that left your mouth as you wiped your thumbling hands on the tea towel, turning to see the wobbling bottom lip of your daughter.

" But we do" she sniffed, eyes pooling with tears as she looked up at your creased brow and your unfair scolding of her.

"Three of them. In...in a line, like this" she hiccuped the last of her tears back with each word as she showed Dogs the arrangement of muddy hills with the miss match of cutlery she had set out for the tea party he found himself attending as she scowled at you.

" Three! Bleeding Christ, we have an army of moles on our hands, Y/N!" Where are the little buggers?" he played along to her tale as your daughter's saddened face began to turn into a giggling grin.

" Elsie..." your fingers nervously began to clutch around the floral towel in your hands, jittery feet walking you towards the edge of the wooden table as you slowly shook your head at your daughter, silently pleading with her to not reveal their location.

" Three moles, eh?" Tommy's voice suddenly announced his presence with a cloud of smoke billowing into the room, suited body leaning against the frame of the door as his eyes roamed over your rapidly seeping nerves.

How long had he been standing there, watching you? How much had he heard? your mind began to throw questions at you as you locked eyes, his glaring stare reading the cascade of unspoken fears whirling through your head.

"You're home" you pulled a smile through the panic you felt as you pathetically tried to turn the tide of conversation, failing to fool your husband with the happy curiosity you was desperately trying to convey.

" Elsie, tell Daddy where these...moles are, so Johnny and his boys can get rid of them" he ignored your remarks as his piercing glare, fixed on you and the truth you had tried to conceal stayed unmoved.

" Down by the woods" your daughter happily responded as she trotted her pony over her makeshift mountains of mud made of porcelaine as Johnny leant back in his chair with heavy sigh.

" Down by the woods" his echoing response came with a tone of parental disappointment for you and your stumbling feet that made the unfortunate mistake of discovering his minor...transgressions.

" Well" he blew the last of his cigarette to the beamed ceilings as he stalked forward to your cowering side.

"We can't have these moles turning up half my land can we, love?" his hand snaked across your back, giving the spongy flesh of your hip a sharp squeeze to play along to the charade you had started as your daughter enthusaitlly nodded her head.

"Johnny" he nodded to his loyal friend who sprung up with a slap to his knees before drinking the last of his tea from the dainty porcelaine play set as Tommy's head snapped to you.

" I came home to check on you. Good thing i did, else we would have had an infestation on our hands" he brushed the whispy hairs from your face as your eyes brimming with tears and mumbling voice betrayed the fear you felt for the man that had taken over your husband.

"You ok, love? Nothing to tell me?" he continued to toy with you and the ruleless game you found yourself playing along to.

" No" you shook your head, embodying your part as the dumb wife, oblivious to her husband's secrets until he left, until you found the right moment to escape.

"Huh" a heavy scoff fanned across your lips as he stepped back to your daughter contently playing with her cherished toys. Maybe you finally understood, finally saw that he was just trying to keep you safe.

"Elsie, Daddy has to go back to work. But I'll be back in time to read you your bedtime story. Me and mummy both will, won't we?" his eyes darted across the room to you slowly slipping out the door with a nodding head of agreement.

" No goodbye kiss for your old man" he stoped you between the woody frame of the kitchen door with a lunging step and reaching hand as your darting eyes had no choice but to acknowledge his dipping head trying to catch your line of sight.

"Goodbye....darling" you pressed a chase peck to his cheek, pulling away to see the protruding bone of his jaw bulging from his cheek.

" Got somewhere to be that's so urgent, you can't kiss your husband properly, hm?" he cocked a brow lifting your slouching chin with his thumb to meet his eyes.

" No..." you mumbled when you suddenly felt yourself being abruptly pulled out of the kitchen to its adjoining wall, your body pushed up against the painted brick as Tommy's veiny hands, straining with fury cupped your cheeks, forcing a passionate kiss from you.

" Be good" he pulled back with a smirk from your abused lips, swollen from his enthusiastic show of dominance as he left you with a heaving chest, trembling hands searching for the wall behind you to steady your shaking body.

" Don't let her step a fucking foot out of this house, understood" Tommys hushed commands were given to his man stood at the entrance of your home as he straightened his tie with a crank of his neck, eyes snapping back to you before he left to the sound of the heavy doors slamming you shut inside.

" Can we go play now?" your daughter's mousey voice startled you from the fear your husband had left you with as she tugged at your dress.

" Yes...let's play" you grabbed her hand, turning to the winding stairs of your home with hurried steps and the task in hand. One you'd have to convince your daughter to play along to if you was ever going to flee from the fortress you once called your home.

" Let's play...road trip"

Racing from draw to draw, you stuffed your shared suitcase with the last of your daughter's clothes to start the new life far from the fogged city of Birmingham as your twiddling-haired child sat on the floor watching her frantic mother.

" This game's boring" she huffed, tucking her hand under her chin as she rested her elbow on her knobbly knee.

" Come on Elsie, don't be a spoil-sport" your eyes darted out the window to Tommy's man swigging the last of the bottle of ale you had one of your maids offer him in hopes he'd find an urgent need to relieve himself and leave his post so you could quietly escape without being noticed.

" Elsie...Elsie darling, pass me your hairbrush" you ushered her to help you pack as you peered behind the curtains with a triumphant smile at the peaked man's fidgety legs pacing back and forth as your daughter groaned behind you, rising from her comfy position on the hand stitched rug.

" Little Tommy Tucker, sings for his supper. What shall we give him? White bread and butter" your daughter began to sing as she hop scotched her way over to her dresser, her pony galloping in tow in the air.

Come on, come on, your brain screamed for him to race to the closest loo, bush, brick wall, whatever it be to release the liters worth of beer he'd consumed as your daughters nursery rhyme began to push through your preoccupied thoughts.

"How shall he cut it, without a knife?" she merrily sang in tune, brushing the mane of her pony with the silver-plated hairbrush as she padded towards your widening eyes, too enthralled in her horse's luscious locks to notice the horror growing on your face.

" Elsie, where did you learn that song?" you stepped away from the window, ushering her to you with your hand stretched out in urgency.

" How will he be married, without a...wife?" she stopped at your feet, finishing the last notes of the innocent rhyme that had suddenly taken on a far darker meaning as she handed you the brush. " Here mummy"

" Elsie, who taught you that song?" you reiterated as you bent down to her little frame and swaying legs, almond eyes looking up at you through her lashes. "Elsie?"

" Daddy did" your heart sank to the pit of your stomach at the harrowing lengths your husband had gone to keep you in check.

" We're leaving. Now" your panicked thoughts of what Tommy would do when he returned had you grabbing your daughter's hand and the suitcase at your feet as you rushed from her bedroom.

" But I thought it was just a game?" her breath and little legs tried to catch up to your racing feet as you fled down the stairs.

" No Elsie, we're going away. Just you and me. On holiday" partial truths to your plan had your daughters scrunched brow of confusion looking up at you as you came to a halting stop at the bottom of the stairs, apprehensively eyeing up the towering doors and your escape.

" Daddy!" your daughter pulled you to the picture of the three of you sat atop of your foyers wooden table with tugs to your hand.

Grabbing the ornate silver frame of happy memories, you pulled her with quickened steps to the imposing doors, silently preying to every heaven, every deity, that Tommy's guard had finally succumbed to his ballooning bladder as you pushed the doors open.

" Ay, ay, ay!" he shouted in midstream, head snapping to the sound of your gravelly footsteps across the gritted drive as his thumbling fingers adjusted himself back into his trousers.

" Mrs Shelby, no one's to leave. Tommy's orders!" he raced after you, watching you pull your six-year-old up into your arms as you threw open the car door, causing Elsie's horse to fly from her hands in the chaos.

"Mummy! Mummy my pony!" she screamed as you slammed the door shut, locking you inside from the thrashing hands of Tommy's henchmen pummeling against the glass window.

" Stop, Elsie!" you snapped in a panic, as you turned the ignition, foot pressed to the peddle until the rumbling wheels of your husband's car screeched down the driveway.

" Please, please, please!" your eyes darted from your childs sobs to the end of the path and the road block you hoped was in place for your frantic escape.

"Daddy! I want Daddy!" your six-year-old screamed beside you, desperately trying to open the car door as you swerved around the corner past the towering iron gates to the Shepard waiting with his flock. His trusted four legged helper, patiently keeping control over the unruly heard until he was given his whistling orders.

" Yes, yes!" a laugh of disbelief had your eyes darting from the country road ahead of you to the rear-view mirror and the car of Tommy's henchman being blocked off by the wooly heard crossing the road.

"Yes..." your excited achievement quickly sizzled out, your sweaty hands clutching the steering wheel as you looked down at your daughter curled up in her chair sobbing with Arrow House fading over the bushy hedgerow behind her.

And then it came, as the rush of the moment began to settle, as the adrenaline pumping through your veins faded and your decision began to sink in.

Divorce was one thing. But leaving, taking his daughter from him, an entirely different move you suddenly felt the reality of as a gasping sob left your throat and the dam of heartbreak streamed your cheeks.

" Elsie..." you quietly wept, hand reaching for her as the bricked chimneys of your home disappeared over the hilly fields of green, the binding ties of your marriage breaking.

" I want daddy" she sniffed, turning from you and the pit of sadness you were dwelling in, for the fleeting decades worth of memories and the man that would expect you to be there on his return, passing you by.

Too late to turn back, to forgive and forget the emerging darkness from within the only man you had ever known. Your future had now been tossed into the hands of the inspector that promised you refuge.

For fate would deal you a far deadlier hand, than that of Tommy Tucker's wife from the innocent nursery rhyme of your child if you dared to return and face the impending retribution of your husband's punishments.

Wheels coming to a screeching stop, Tommy threw open his car door, eyes widening with fury at the man that had let you escape as he pulled his gun from within its leather halter.

" Boss, I..." the mumbling soldier's last words were cut off with a bullet between his eyes as Tommy coldly took him out.

"Fuck sake" Arthur mumbled, stood at the doors of Arrow House with his weapon in hand, ready to threaten his brother into control by any means as he watched the trickling crimson river approach his laced boots.

" Where are they? Y/N! Elsie!" Tommy pushed past his shoulder into the grand foyer of his stately home with a roar. Unwilling, unable, to believe the urgent phone call that had him slamming the brassy receiver down onto its bronze stand as he bolted for his car.

" Tommy, they're not here. We've checked the whole place. Tom!" Arthur rested his hands on his hips with a strained sigh as he watched his brother take two lunging steps at a time up the imposing staircase until he disappeared around the corner.

" Y/N!" he shouted your name, throwing each door open with determination to find proof that you hadn't done the unthinkable, that you hadn't left him and taken his daughter with you.

" No..." reality finally hit him as he opened the last door to Elsie's bedroom, to the scene of clothes strung across the room, evidence of your frantic escape.

With widened eyes brimming with disbelief, with reddening fury on the tethering edge of implosion. The blood drained from Tommy's legs as his feet gave way to the overwhelming surge of defeat that had plummeted to his stomach he was desperately battling to keep down.

You had done it. You had left him.

"Fuck!!" Tommy's bellowing voice boomed from wall to wall as a cascade of furniture being thrashed about the disheveled room echoed through the floorboards to a flinching Arthur stood in the foyer, teeth baring at every crash of destruction.

" Now, Tom..." Arthur put his hands up, blocking the entrance as Tommy came thundering down the stairs having trashed every breakable object in a tirade of uncontrollable rage.

" Get out of my way, Arthur" your husband grabbed the gun from his hands, cranking back the barrel as he unloaded bullet after bullet into anything and anyone unfortunate enough to be within firing shot outside his home. The clanging of each cylinder hitting the ground, releasing his fury shot after shot until he came down from the tormenting inability to take the pain he felt out on you.

As the last bullet was spent, Tommy's hunching shoulders pushed him to the ground in defeat as he pulled a cigarette from his waistcoat, eyes narrowing through his field of destruction until they landed on Elsie's wooden pony caught in the crossfire with a bullet through it's stomach.

Through a cloud of billowing smoke, Tommy inspected the damage to his daughter's most treasured toy when his head suddenly drew up to the sound of approaching sirens blaring over the hedgerow, cars racing along the country roads down to his home.

" Tom! Get up!" Arthur pulled him from the depths of his despair, dragging him back into the foyer of Arrow House as a swarm of police officers, guns drawn, slowly approached.

" Hands up!" the crowd of shouting men commanded as Tommy drew one last drag from his cigarette before tossing it at their feet with squinting eyes.

"Thomas Michael Shelby. I'm arresting you on suspicion of murder" the officer edged forward to the amused smirk of disbelief plastered on your husband's face for what he imagined was a minor misunderstanding, he would be able to charm himself or his money out of within minutes.

" Think you've got the wrong man" Tommy scoffed as he willingly put his hands out when the inspector that had been hounding you strolled forward with his own smirk of satisfaction.

"Really? Pretty sure your sweet wife would say otherwise" he placed his hands in his pockets with a triumphant grin as Tommy's eyes widened, face reddening with a resurfacing surge of anger.

" You could ask her, but she and your daughter are far away from you and the madness that goes on in that pretty little head of yours" he tapped the side of Tommy's skull as your husband lunged forward from the clutches of the officers tightening his chains.

" She told us everything" he whispered into your husbands' ear with a wining chuckle.

"You're going down, boy" he stepped back, enjoying the sight of your husband furiously fighting against his constraints with a clenching jaw as the feral gnashing of Arthur's teeth and the half dozen officers trying to control him battled next to him.

" Lock him up, gents!" the inspector ordered as Tommy was lead away when his forced steps to the waiting car came to a halting stop as his eyes darted to the table of framed photos, scanning across the missing picture until they settled on your lone portrait and his emerging smirk curling the corners of his lips in its reflection as he spoke his threats to your sweet smile staring back at him.

"Well played, darling. But I will find you"

Next Part

Tag list: @peakyswritings @justrainandcoffee @garrison-girl-08 @meadows5 @lavender-haze-01

@strangeobsessed @ttae-yong @lemonwithstupidity @lindsay00000 @mischievouslittlecreature

@jbrownta @lau219 @whereismymindnow @honeymoon8 @bruhidkjustwannaread

@strrvnge @paintedinpinks @edgyficuselastica @strangeions @youngbananamilkshake

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thriftedtchotchkes · 2 years ago

Text

keep it on the low

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: just because you and joel broke up doesn't mean you can't still (secretly) enjoy each other's company

warnings: 18+ MDNI, language, hurt/angst, ex!joel, possessive!joel, pwp, smut, post-breakup sex, rough sex, mild exhibitionism

word count: 3k

a/n: all i can say is oops. blame sza, i guess. and of course, couch gif for obvious reasons. as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated!

Joel’s being obvious again. Discretion’s never been his strong suit, but he’s especially attuned to you today, and not in a good way. He’s not undressing you with his eyes, itching for the moment he can take you home like he usually is.

Nope, he just looks irritated as fuck. Way too angry for someone who just happens to be sitting in the same room as his ex. If he keeps this up, you’re going to get caught, and then what are you going to do? Fuck other people?

Like that’ll ever happen. You and Joel broke up almost three months ago and yet here you are, still hooking up like there’s no one else in this town to have sex with. But you have an agreement…sort of. You keep sleeping together, you don’t talk about it, and you definitely don’t tell anyone else. It’s high school-level dramatic and, honestly, you’re both way too old for this shit.

You know everyone’s gossiping about you behind your back, trying to figure out why you’re not together anymore. It was a bad breakup, probably the worst you’ve ever had and the biggest Jackson’s ever seen. The second this town hall is over, they’ll all be chatting amongst themselves, analyzing your behavior like it’s any of their business.

And Joel’s only giving them more to talk about. Seriously, why is he staring at you like that? If you can keep your eyes to yourself for an hour, surely he can at least pretend to be listening to what Maria’s saying, even though it’s boring as hell and doesn’t apply to either of you in the slightest. The winter dance next week really isn't your thing, no offense to her, but at least you're trying to look interested.

You shoot him a quick glare across the room, and he rolls his eyes, finally shifting his focus elsewhere. Apparently, that little interaction is all it takes to stir up the gossip mill because you can already hear a few of the worst offenders whispering to each other.

Fucking vultures. You’re pretty sure half of them are trying to make a move on Joel now that you’re over. Too bad he’s still busy spending his nights buried inside you.

The meeting ends pretty quickly after that, and everyone gets up from their seats, some staying to help put away folding chairs and others loitering around before they head to dinner. Somehow, Joel ends up next to you as you’re walking out, probably on purpose, and you take the opportunity to tell him off.

“Way to be fucking obvious, asshole,” you mumble, hoping no one else can hear you. “Did you have to stare at me like that? You made it seem like I spat in your fucking coffee this morning.”

He scoffs loudly, and you elbow him in the side, throwing him a warning glance. He’s acting like he wants everyone to know what you’re trying so hard to hide and it’s really starting to piss you off.

“Wasn’t lookin’ at you any sorta way, darlin’. You’re the one makin’ a fuss and gettin’ everyone’s attention,” he smirks. It’s not even fair how good he looks when he does that.

You feel a strong urge to slap it off his face, but that’s not really an option right now. An annoyingly intrusive thought tells you to save it for later when you’re alone, but you push it to the back of your mind. He’d probably enjoy that, anyways.

You quirk an eyebrow as subtly as you can. “…Are you kidding me? I wasn’t the one glaring at you the entire meeting.”

He looks around pointedly. “Ya think you’re not makin' it worse right now?”

You pause to take in your surroundings, and he’s right. You’re making a scene unnecessarily when you could’ve just ignored him and gone home like you’d planned. This is exactly why everyone thinks the breakup was your fault. Why they all think you're the villain in his story.

Joel knows just how to bring out the worst in you and you hate it. It’s one of the reasons you broke up in the first place. He pretends like everything’s fine and nothing’s ever his fault, and you’re constantly tricked into proving him right. But today he’s being purposely antagonistic and you can’t tell why.

“Oh, fuck you, Joel,” you grit through your teeth. “Stay the fuck away from me.”

He doesn’t.

Not even a few hours later, he’s at your back door—like always, so no one sees him come and go—eyeing you a little wildly. Hungrily. And suddenly, it all makes sense.

He's horny. Probably has been all day, judging by his behavior earlier. He doesn’t say anything, just lurches forward to kiss you, to get his hands on you, but your arms shoot out to stop him.

“Uhh, what are you doing? Pretty sure I told you to leave me the fuck alone.”

He’s already panting as if he ran all the way here, but the tent in his pants tells you otherwise. His heart is racing under your palms, and while you haven’t forgotten how furious you still are, the fact that he’s this desperate for you makes you want to.

"Yeah, but ya didn't mean it. Ya never mean it,” he says like he knows you so well. You hate that he does, but the last thing you’re going to do is admit it.

“Why the fuck would I say it if I didn't?" you scoff.

"'Cus it's more fun that way," he leans in again, but you jerk your head back. Is he serious? It’s not like you normally have a nice little chat before you fuck, but he usually has more patience than this.

“Joel, stop. Are you trying to get us caught?” you eye him incredulously. It’s dark out and, yeah, you’re not having this conversation on the porch where anyone can see you, but other people’s windows still face your yard. He’s acting ridiculous.

"Maybe I wanna get caught,” he replies smugly, crowding you against the door. “Maybe I want everyone to know who ya belong to.”

His eyes are unreadable, and you’re caught between shock and intense curiosity. But then, that familiar feeling of fury returns, and you allow that to win out. You reach behind you for the doorknob, twisting it open to back inside.

“No. Nope, that’s not happening today,” you say with finality, yanking him by the collar into the house. You shove his back against the door, slamming it shut, and your grip tightens on his shirt. He’s smirking again, and it somehow looks even better on his face now than it did earlier.

“There’s my girl,” he breathes out, his hands finding your waist to pull you closer. It sends an unwitting wave of heat through you, a gasp escaping your lips before you can stop it. Fuck. He hasn’t called you that since before the breakup. Because it hasn’t been true since then, or at least that’s what you tell yourself.

“Only in here. Right, Joel?” He nods his head slowly, but his eyes betray him. He doesn’t believe that for one second.

“Sure, darlin’. Whatever you say.”

And, for now, that’s enough for you. You crash your lips into his hard enough to bruise and he groans into your mouth, rocking his hips into your belly so you can feel him straining in his jeans. It’s a little dizzying knowing just how much he wants you. How much he always wants you.

Flipping your positions to lead him backward, you reach down to unbutton his pants, your lips still moving languidly against his. Your fingertips purposely skim his bulge as you tug down his zipper, and he bucks into your hand, something soft and needy rumbling out of his chest.

More layers of clothing are stripped off and thrown haphazardly on the floor, leaving a trail from the kitchen to the living room, until the backs of his legs bump into the couch. All that's left now are his boxers, your underwear, and your bra. You make quick work of the latter yourself, dropping it to the floor, and then kick off your underwear, smirking at the look of sheer yearning on his face.

He reaches out to touch you, fingertips only managing to graze the side of your breast before you slap his hand away. He's not allowed to touch you until the playing field is even and he's as bare as you are. He already knows that.

His eyes are so dark, pupils dilated until that gentle brown has almost completely disappeared, and the way he's looking at you is reminiscent of a different time. You ignore it, focusing on all of the things you know he's about to do to your body instead. It'll help you forget whatever you just recognized in his gaze for a little while.

You tug on the waistband of his boxers, letting them snap back into his hips.

"Off," you tell him simply, giving him enough time to pull them down before you shove him onto the cushions. You climb into his lap, hands settling on his shoulders as you lower yourself down to drag your wet folds across his cock.

He hisses a breath through his teeth, his fingers digging into your hips to guide you, and you let him slick himself up against your pussy. He's so hard below you, looking painfully and almost angrily red at the tip. You sigh at the repeated friction on your clit and he twitches at the sound, dribbling precum that immediately mixes with your wetness.

"Need to be inside you. Now," he moans breathily, burying his face between your tits. He turns his head slightly to nip at the sensitive skin, and you tremble, trailing a hand up the side of his neck to bury in his soft curls. "You ready for me, darlin'?"

You nod quickly, chest heaving as you lift enough to reach down and wrap your fingers around him. Pumping him a few times, you drag the tip between your folds before lining him up with your entrance. He pants damply into your chest, more precum leaking out in anticipation.

And then you're dropping onto him, crying out loudly as you impale yourself on his cock. His hips shoot up off the couch, forcing himself deeper into your cunt, and he lets out a pained whoosh of air, adjusting to you as much as you are to him.

"Shit, that's—," he chokes out a moan as you start to move, "—tight. Fuckin' grippin' me, Christ."

You purposely squeeze him a little harder, exhaling sharply out your nose when his nails bite into your skin.

"Yeah, because you barely fucking fit," you tease breathily.

But it's more than that. You mold around him like you were made to take it, soft sighs leaving your lips as you ride him slowly. He fits perfectly, something that took precious time, his cock finding a home inside you over and over, reshaping your walls in his image. The lock to his key.

You bury that thought, too—with every swivel of your hips, every brush of your clit against his skin. He latches onto your breast, sucking a nipple into his mouth as you continue to work him.

His eyes flutter shut, hands beginning to guide you up and down a little faster as he swirls searing circles around the nub until it peaks. He tugs at it sharply with his teeth and you gasp, a spear of heat lancing through your spine as you gush around him.

It all feels so…fuck, he knows exactly how you like it. And both of you can hear how much you like it, feel how sticky you're making his lap. The slide around his cock is wet and easy, and your pussy's gripping him even tighter, but you need…god, you need—

"Joel, fuck me—come on, fuck me," you whimper, tugging him away from your tits by his hair, and he responds immediately. Taking over, he establishes a frantic, steady rhythm, lifting you until just the tip is inside, and forcing you back down.

But it's still not hard or fast enough to satisfy the way he needs you right now. He wraps his arms fully around your waist to hold you in place, pistoning his hips into you, forcing increasingly louder haahs out of your chest.

"That's it, darlin', take it…take it," he groans, head tilting back so he can observe every subtle change of expression as he gives you exactly you asked for. He leans up to capture your lips, but it's not so much a kiss as an exchange of breath, soft and humid as you pant heavily into each other mouths.

It quiets you for a brief moment—potentially the best possible moment, because out of nowhere, you hear faint voices passing by outside. They're way too close for comfort, and you realize belatedly that you made a huge mistake earlier.

"W-wait, the curtains—shit, the curtains…ngh…are still open," you barely manage to gasp out. "Fuck, the windows are open."

It doesn't deter him in the slightest and, instead, spurs him on. "S'alright, it's dark in here. They can't see us," he rasps, keeping up his merciless pace.

Ducking his head down, he sucks hard on a sensitive spot—your favorite spot—right above your collarbone, and you whimper much louder than you mean to.

"They can still fucking hear us," you all but growl, feeling your thighs start to quake despite your growing panic.

"Good, let 'em," he laughs almost cruelly, and he sounds so possessive that it stuns you momentarily. He takes the opportunity to abruptly tug you off his lap and toss you onto your back across the cushions, fucking back into you before you can even process the shift in position.

Now that he's on top of you, pressing down with his entire weight, his pelvis grinds into your already swollen clit with every single thrust, and you can't help the wail that escapes your parted lips.

He doesn't hesitate to pull you close, hugging your head to his neck as if he's trying to block out the rest of the world. Everything and everyone, but you and him.

"Always so loud for me. C'mon, darlin', lemme hear ya," he murmurs into your hair, hips snapping into yours. "I know you can be louder than that. Scream for me."

And you do. There's nothing else you could've done anyway, not with how he's dragging against everything just right. Your hips desperately swivel into his, chasing that hot, slick friction every time he connects with you.

The slap-slap-slap of your skin on his becomes a deep, wet thock-thock-thock the closer you get, your pussy dripping pathetically down his cock, fluttering with your impending release. He can feel it, you know he can, because he's moaning loud enough to rival even you now. He ruts greedily into you, hitting so much deeper than before.

"Christ…you're gonna make me cum," he warns, voice wrecked, his face still buried in your hair. "Jesus fuckin'…" You keen into his neck, still desperately chasing your own high, but it's not enough.

"J-Joel, I need—," you try to tell him, but he cuts you off.

"—'m fuckin' cummin'. Fuck," he grunts roughly, tumbling over the edge before you get the chance. His hips slow even as he continues to punch his cock as deep as it'll go, flooding your pussy.

No. Shit—no, no, no. He can't slow down, not now. You're almost there—so fucking close. He has to keep going. Just a little bit longer.

"No, Joel, no," you sob, legs kicking up around his waist as you grind up into him needily, increasing your speed. "Please, harder…please, please. Keep going for me—"

You feel rather than hear the groan rumble in his chest as he resumes his previous, unforgiving pace, ramming into you almost painfully.

"'m gonna. Don't'chu fuckin' worry."

At that, your orgasm quickly crashes over you, and you don't even realize you're slapping a hand into his side, still begging him not to stop as you wring him dry.

It's deafening what erupts from your chest when you finally cum. There's no doubt anyone outside can hear everything. Every squelch, every squeal, even the couch creaking, being pushed to its absolute limit.

Joel's name leaves your lips breathily, repeatedly like a prayer. You're shaking like a leaf underneath him, and he pulls back to brush your hair out of your face so he can kiss you, tender and open-mouthed.

This, too, feels gut-wrenchingly familiar but, for some reason, you don't want it to stop. Right now, you don't want to forget how it makes you feel.

He pulls out slowly, shoving two thick fingers inside you before your pussy can leak your combined releases all over the couch, and the sigh that escapes you sounds both content and despairing. He notices right away. Of course, he does.

Watching him leave you after nights like this hurts so much worse lately. Maybe it's nostalgia. Or maybe it's the unavoidable emotional connection you feel when he's inside you.

Even though months have passed since you decided you'd be better off without each other, something inexplicable keeps bringing you back together. It's not just the sex and you know it, no matter how much you choose to pretend otherwise.

He knows it, too. He tells you all the time—in the softness of his kiss, his desire to please you, and his eyes, still only ever focused on you.

And, now, in the possessiveness of his words and actions. Of his touch.

He gazes down at you knowingly, as if he can see every one of your troubled thoughts in the cloudiness of your eyes. He's always been annoyingly good at that.

"Y'know, I don't have to leave just yet," he murmurs, brushing his nose gently against your cheek. "Only in here, right? You're still mine as long as we're right here."

You let him wrap you up in his arms, nodding into his warm, beautifully scar-riddled chest.

"I'm yours."

thanks for reading! 💕

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #joel miller

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demensrage · 4 months ago

Text

b for baby fever ⚊ •. with trevor belmont

summary: after seeing you play with your niece, cuddle her when she feels sad and fall asleep with her, his desire to see you holding his child is difficult to hide. when you are alone, his desire to fill you with his children becomes a reality.

cw: established relationship, nipple play, switch!trevor, switch!reader, breeding kink, dirty talk, petnames, fingering, unprotected, praise kink, creampie, reader is ovulating, pregnancy kink, oral (f. receiving).

wordcount: 5.1k

note: english is not my firts lenguage so please forgive me for the grammatical errors I may commit

Taking care of your niece had turned out to be more fun than you had imagined. Lily, with her golden curls and contagious giggle, didn’t stop running around the room, escaping your attempts to catch her. You had already moved all the furniture so you could play without worries, and the little one seemed to enjoy every second of the attention you gave her. Your laughter echoed throughout the house as Lily ran between the piled-up cushions, always returning to you with those mischievous, bright little eyes.

Trevor watched from the doorway, leaning against the frame with a slight smile on his lips. There was something about the way you handled Lily that made him feel different, deeper, something he hadn’t felt before. The tenderness in your voice as you called her, the care in your hands when you picked her up when she fell, and the way you hugged her when you gave in to her boundless energy. It was almost impossible for him to look away from you.

Neither of you had ever talked about having children, perhaps because you both lived such chaotic and dangerous lives that you didn't consider it feasible. But seeing the way you related to Lily stirred something inside Trevor. His chest filled with an unfamiliar warmth, a longing he couldn't ignore.

You noticed his gaze after a few minutes, his darkened blue eyes fixed on you in an intense, yet gentle manner. You smiled at him, letting Lily slump tiredly onto one of the cushions, panting as she tried to catch her breath between giggles.

Trevor had been grappling with that thought for a couple of weeks. At first, it had been a fleeting thought, an idea he could ignore. But seeing you, not just with Lily, but with the other children in the village, something inside him began to break. Every one of your smiles, every time you lifted a child or laughed with them, his heart shattered into a thousand pieces of pure desire. A desire he hadn’t recognized until that moment.

But today, seeing you so excited, your face lit up as you pulled his arm to watch Lily take her first steps, it hit him like never before. The way you screamed with joy, your eyes shining with love, made a very clear thought cross his mind. He wanted to see you like that, but with his child. His child. That word sounded perfect when he thought it. He imagined you with a rounded, swollen belly, carrying within you a life that the two of you had created.

You would look beautiful, he thought, with those dresses you always wore, adapted to cover that new curve in your body. It was an entire vision that consumed him.

But it wasn’t that simple. Though the yearning grew strong, Trevor didn’t know how to approach the subject with you. How could he tell you he wanted to be a father without seeming intrusive? How would he explain this desire that had taken root in his chest, to see you with his child?

He remained silent for a moment, watching as Lily took another wobbly step before softly falling to her knees, laughing. You laughed with her, full of tenderness. Trevor leaned slightly toward you, as if needing to feel closer, and murmured:

“You’re amazing with her, and with all the kids.”

You turned toward him, surprised by the change in his tone, but smiled warmly at him. “They’re adorable. How could I not be?”

Trevor took a breath, searching for the right words. He didn’t want to rush you or scare you with the intensity of what he felt, but he couldn’t ignore it anymore. Gently, he slid his hand over your belly, just a light touch that made you look at him more intently.

“Have you ever thought… about what it would be like to have one?” he asked carefully, his voice lower than usual.

You felt your heart stop for a second. You knew what he meant, and the idea, though unexpected, wasn’t unpleasant to you. But the sincerity in his eyes, the vulnerability he rarely showed, moved you deeply. It was clear he wasn’t just saying it. It was a genuine longing, something that had been growing inside him.

“One… of ours?” you asked softly, wanting to make sure you understood.

Trevor nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. His thumb absentmindedly caressed your belly as he answered, with a mix of tenderness and desire: “Yes. Ours.”

You felt a surge of emotions. The possibility of a future together, a child you would both share, began to take shape in your mind, as vivid as the vision he had of you.

“We’ve never talked about it,” you admitted quietly. “But… it’s not an idea I dislike.”

Trevor smiled, a genuine smile that made your heart beat a little faster. He leaned in, his lips brushing yours gently, then murmured against your mouth: “Neither do I.”

His kiss was slow, loaded with unspoken emotions, with promises that you both seemed willing to consider. Little Lily, now drowsy on the cushion, had fallen silent, unaware of what was happening between you. But you and Trevor knew that something had changed, and that spark of possibility had ignited in both of you, planting the seed of a future that, until that moment, you hadn’t allowed yourselves to imagine.

As night fell, you returned home after spending the afternoon helping Alucard with the orphans’ homework. It was a small place, but full of life and laughter, and although you loved your husband and enjoyed accompanying him in monster hunting, you also found a deep satisfaction in helping those little ones who needed it so much. Every smile you received, every moment spent with them, filled a void in your heart.

Upon entering the house, you noticed how the soft candlelight illuminated the space. Some candles were extinguished, leaving a trail of darkness and warmth in the area. It was a contrast that felt welcoming yet unsettling.

“Trevor, I’m home!” you called from the living room, expecting to hear his voice respond from somewhere in the house. However, the silence that reigned around you made you frown. You decided to venture further into the room, but he wasn’t there either.

You wondered where he could have gone. Usually, he left a note to let you know if he was going somewhere, but this time there was nothing. A small twinge of worry began to nest in your chest, but you quickly told yourself not to alarm yourself. Trevor knew how to protect himself; he had faced worse dangers and always returned to you.

Deciding to set aside your unease, you took a bath. You welcomed the thought of immersing yourself in hot water, wishing the steam would relax your mind and help you temporarily forget Trevor's absence. You turned on the bathroom lamp, casting a soft glow, and began to undress, feeling the cool air brush against your skin.

As you filled the tub, your mind wandered to Trevor, often filled with that raw desire that burned inside you. You imagined his strong, muscular body, how he used to pull you toward him with controlled strength, taking you to bed and undressing you with devotion and need. You couldn’t help but feel a shiver of anticipation run down your spine as you recalled those intimate moments you shared. The passion between you was undeniable, but there was also something deeper, something that made you want him even more.

You sank into the tub filled with hot water, feeling the heat envelop your body. You closed your eyes, allowing your thoughts to dive into the memory of his lips on your skin, his low voice whispering promises as his hands roamed your body. Every touch, every kiss, every whisper felt like a fire within you that never extinguished.

With a sigh, you opened your eyes and sat up, letting the water surround you. You wondered what Trevor was doing at that moment, if he was thinking of you, if, like you, he longed for that contact. The idea that he might be desiring you too, that his mind could be as filled with raw and passionate thoughts as yours, sent a flush across your face.

As you stepped out of the tub and wrapped yourself in a towel, you wondered if at the end of the day he would come home, if together you could share that longing that had become a part of you. A small knot of desire formed in your stomach at the thought of the connection you shared, a love that was fierce and deep, and that you yearned to experience to the fullest.

However, just as you set the towel aside, searching for a comfortable nightgown to snuggle into bed and read while you waited for him, a pair of calloused, strong hands unexpectedly slipped around your waist. Your body reacted instinctively, and in the blink of an eye, you turned and struck the person who had touched you with your fist.

The sound of flesh and bone colliding made you recoil for a second until you finally realized who it was. Trevor held his jaw, a grimace of pain mixed with surprise on his face.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” he grunted between groans, his fingers massaging the area where you had hit him.

You brought your hands to your mouth, horrified, and quickly moved closer to cradle his face in your hands, checking the force of the blow.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize it was you,” you apologized as you looked into his eyes, though a part of you couldn’t help but notice how incredibly attractive he looked, even with the pain reflected on his face.

Trevor, with his typical carefree attitude, let out a soft laugh. His hands, still resting on your hips, tightened slightly against your skin, sending a jolt of warmth throughout your body. Although you had hit him accidentally, he didn’t seem upset; rather, he seemed amused by what had happened.

“Those hands of yours are dangerous,” he joked, pulling you a little closer to him. The heat of his body against yours made you relax, but at the same time, it awakened something else within you. You could feel the desire mixed with the closeness of his body and the intensity of his gaze fixed on yours.

“It’s your fault for being so stealthy. I hate when you slip around without making a sound,” you retorted, your fingers still brushing softly against his cheek, ensuring there were no marks left behind.

His hands slowly moved from your hips to your back, caressing your bare skin in a way that completely clouded your thoughts. His touch, firm yet tender, always had the ability to disarm you.

"I couldn't resist," Trevor murmured, his voice rough as he leaned slightly toward you. The weight of his gaze was heavy with desire, and the atmosphere between you was charged with a palpable tension, the kind that had built up strongly over the past few weeks. His lips brushed against yours as he added with a crooked smile, "And it seems you can't either."

Suddenly, you became aware of your own nudity, warmth rising quickly to your cheeks, a deep flush you couldn't hide. You had been so immersed in the moment that you hadn't noticed how vulnerable you were until his body pressed against yours made it evident.

Trevor, always attentive, noticed your reaction. A playful smile formed on his lips as his hands remained firmly on your waist. His eyes slowly descended, taking in your exposed figure, but not with immediate lust; rather, it was a mix of adoration and desire, as if he were memorizing every detail.

"Looks like someone is out of clothes," he murmured, his tone filled with humor, but also that dark depth that always stirred something within you. His fingers traced lazy circles on your bare skin, sending little shivers down your spine as he pulled you even closer to him.

"That's not fair," you whispered, trying to regain some control, but the heat radiating from his body and the intensity of his gaze made it nearly impossible.

His face was so close to yours that you could feel his uneven breaths. He didn’t need words to communicate what he felt; the longing was clear in every movement, in every touch.

"It doesn't have to be fair," he replied softly, his lips barely grazing yours as his hand began to slide down your back, caressing you with a familiarity that made you lose all inhibitions.

The small knot of desire you had felt earlier tightened even more in your stomach, becoming almost unbearable. You leaned into him, allowing the warmth you both shared to speak for you. The desire to be closer, to feel him, to lose yourself in him as you had so many times before was overwhelming.

Trevor didn’t bother to wait a second longer. His hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling you with an urgency that completely disarmed you. Without saying a word, he gently pushed you toward the bed, his strong and dominant body controlling your every movement. You could feel the tension in his grip, his raw and unrestrained need reflected in the way he looked at you, as if he were going to devour you whole.

The heat of his body against yours, the brush of his cloak over your bare skin, and the way he pressed you firmly against the mattress ignited you more than you could control. Your nipples, now hard, grazed the rough fabric of his cloak, eliciting a low moan you couldn't contain. Trevor noticed, and his lips curved into a dark, hungry smile.

"I love seeing you like this," he growled through clenched teeth, his voice rougher than usual as he forced you to stay lying down. His hands roamed your body, claiming every inch of your bare skin. "All mine. This is how it should always be."

The heat radiating from his body mingled with the passion you both had accumulated over weeks, perhaps months, without letting it out. You had felt that fierce desire in him before, but this time was different. This time, it seemed something inside him had exploded. Every touch, every caress, every glance was charged with a primal, uncontrollable need.

Trevor held you by the hips, his thumb brushing against the bone of your hip as he slowly traveled down your belly, his gaze ignited by hunger. His mouth descended to your neck, biting gently, leaving marks as if he wanted to ensure you knew you were his and no one else’s. The heat rising from your stomach mixed with the moisture you were beginning to feel between your legs, a longing that was driving you mad.

"I want to feel all of you," he murmured, his voice rough and deep. "I want to see you filled with me... to see you swollen and completely mine."

Trevor’s hands slid from your hips, slowly climbing up your torso until his fingers brushed against your breasts. A gasp escaped your lips as his thumbs grazed your hardened nipples, barely touching them, just enough for a wave of pleasure to ripple through your body. You arched against his touch, desperate for more, to feel him more intensely.

He smiled at your reaction, and without saying a word, his hands tightened around your breasts. His warm, wet mouth closed around one of your nipples, sucking with a mix of tenderness and possession, while his other hand caressed and squeezed the other, rolling it between his rough fingers, playing with it in a way that took your breath away.

The little sounds of pleasure escaping your lips only spurred him on further. His tongue traced slow circles around your nipple, increasing the pressure every time you moaned his name. You could feel the heat between your legs intensifying, and your breathing became more and more ragged. You tried to move, seeking friction, but Trevor held you firm, controlling every part of you as if you were his.

“You're so sensitive here…” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and heavy with desire as his tongue played with your nipple. “I love watching you lose control.”

As his mouth continued to work on your breasts, his free hand descended down your body, tracing the outline of your belly until it reached between your legs. His fingers found the warm moisture that had been building up, and a deeper moan escaped your lips as he began to slide a finger between your folds, exploring slowly, as if he wanted to savor every second.

You writhed under his touch, your hands gripping the sheets as he began to move with more intention, caressing your clitoris with slow but firm circles. The pleasure radiating from your core spread throughout your body, and you could barely maintain control as he added a second finger, entering you with devastating softness, his rhythm slow yet precise.

“Look at you…” he whispered against your chest, his breath heavy. “So wet for me. I want to feel you come around my fingers.”

Each movement of his fingers inside you was calculated, deep, and firm, making you completely lose your sense of what was happening around you. His lips returned to your breast, sucking and gently biting your nipple while his fingers inside you moved faster, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

You were in the middle of your cycle, and you knew it. Your body knew it. The feeling of being in full ovulation made you more receptive, more vulnerable to every touch from Trevor. Every caress, every whisper ignited you in a way you had never felt so intensely. It was not just desire; it was a primal need, a longing you could not ignore, and Trevor, with his expert hands and hungry gaze, knew it perfectly.

“So receptive, so sensitive…” he murmured against your skin as his fingers sank deeper inside you. You could feel the heat growing, expanding from your belly to every corner of your body. Trevor had that crooked smile on his lips, knowing exactly what he was provoking in you. “You’re so wet… all for me. My good girl, right?”

You bit your lip, your hips instinctively moving against his fingers as he continued to pump inside you, his rhythm torturously slow yet deep, hitting every spot that made you moan his name.

“You know what you're doing, don't you?” he continued, his voice low and laden with desire. “Your body knows, sweetheart. It's begging to be filled… by me. Only by me.”

You writhed beneath him, the heat of ovulation intensifying everything. You were more sensitive than usual; every brush, every word made you tremble.

“Oh, you love this, don’t you?” he asked, his tone soft yet laced with dark lust as he increased the pressure on your clitoris, rubbing it in precise circles that made you arch your back and moan. “You’re so good for me, always so perfect. My sweet girl… look at how you melt with just my fingers. I can’t wait to feel you around me when you're so swollen that all you can think about is me filling you up.”

Your hands searched for something to hold on to, your moans catching in your throat as his words penetrated deeper than his fingers. The intensity of everything happening overwhelmed you. It was as if your body was programmed to respond to every touch, to every word that came from his mouth.

“Do you like it when I touch you like this, beautiful?” he whispered, his mouth close to your ear as his fingers moved faster, making you tremble. “Tell me, my love. I want to hear you say how much you need me, like the little slut you are for me.”

“I need you... Trevor, I need you so much...” you whispered between gasps, feeling yourself nearing the edge, your body tightening with every word he uttered, with every caress he gave.

“I know, sweetheart... your body is begging for it, I can feel it,” he growled, lowering his voice.

Trevor noticed how your breathing quickened, how your hands sought his skin, sliding your fingers down his back, gently pulling him, indicating what you wanted. He had always been the one in control, but in that moment, he saw it in your eyes: you wanted to take charge this time.

His lips began to descend down your body, leaving a trail of heat from your breasts to your belly. With each kiss, your body tightened, more susceptible than ever to his touch. Ovulation, that deep and primal heat, made you feel everything with an intensity that nearly overwhelmed you. Trevor understood it, and he relinquished control to you without a second thought.

Your body trembled beneath him as his kisses finally reached the place you wanted him most. Without hesitation, he knelt between your legs, his soft but firm hands holding you in place as he looked down at you with devotion. His tongue slid between your folds, tracing a slow but sure path to your clit, where he left a soft kiss, as if he was worshipping every part of you.

You writhed beneath him, moans escaping your lips without you being able to control them. The pleasure was too much, so raw, so visceral. Trevor had you right where he wanted you, but it was your turn to set the pace. Your hands tangled in his hair, gently tugging at him, guiding him to give you more, to do exactly what you needed.

“That way… right there…” you moaned, pressing him a little harder against you, indicating the pace you desired. Trevor obeyed without resistance, his tongue moving in precise circles over your clit, making everything inside you clench with pleasure.

“So good for me…” he whispered against you, his breath hot on your skin as he looked up at you, his eyes filled with lust and surrender. “This pussy so good, so mine.”

Your body responded before you could form words. You arched into him, your moans intensifying as his tongue moved more precisely, faster. You clung to his shoulders, your control faltering as pleasure consumed you.

“More… Trevor, more…” you whispered, your voice cracking with desire. You felt everything, his tongue, his lips, the growing heat inside you.

Trevor obeyed, his tongue entering deeper, alternating between long strokes and soft sucks on your clit, causing your hips to rise up towards him, seeking more contact. Every moan you let out encouraged him, and he worshipped you in every movement, every kiss, every caress. There was no rush, there was nothing but your pleasure.

When you finally got close to the edge, your body tense and your muscles trembling, Trevor held you firmly, his lips and tongue never stopping working on you, giving you just what you needed.

“Give it all to me…” he murmured against you, his voice low and husky. “I want to see you cum for me.” And so it did. It all exploded in a wave of overwhelming pleasure, your moans muffled as your body surrendered completely to him.

As you tried to catch your breath, your body still shuddering from the intense climax, your eyes focused on Trevor, who was slowly stripping off his clothes in front of you. Each piece of clothing that fell revealed more of his tanned, scarred skin, every muscle tensing as he looked at you with that mix of desire and devotion that made you feel powerful.

When his pants finally fell, your gaze settled on his cock, erect and thick, standing out in full length. The sight was enough to make that knot in your belly tighten again. The size of him always surprised you, an expanse of pure hardness, hot and throbbing, ready for you. Trevor was stunning in every way, and today you were going to take full control.

You bit your lip, a spark of lust igniting again inside you, and you approached him with a confidence that you knew drove him crazy.

Trevor watched you silently, his pupils dilated as you positioned yourself over him, taking the reins, literally. Your hands slid down his chest and down to his abdomen, stopping a second before your fingers wrapped around his cock. Trevor let out a low moan, his body instantly responding to your touch.

“I love it when you let yourself go like that…” you murmured, enjoying the feeling of power that came from taking control of the situation.

Trevor leaned back, his hands resting gently on your thighs as you began to slowly caress him, running your fingers over every inch of him. You massaged him at a leisurely pace, playing with him as his muscles tensed under your touch. You knew he could take control at any moment if he wanted to, but this time he was completely submitting to you, trusting in what you would do.

“Tell me what you want, Trevor…” your voice came out low and seductive, your hands keeping a gentle, yet firm massage over his cock, feeling it throb against your palm.

“You… I want you, just like that…” his reply was almost a broken whisper, his eyes locked on yours, completely lost in the feel of your hands.

You smirked, knowing you had him exactly where you wanted him. Slowly, you lifted yourself up and positioned yourself over him, placing the tip of his cock right at your entrance. The heat of his body felt like an electric spark in yours, and you leaned into him, barely brushing his length as you rubbed against him, giving him just enough to keep him on the edge.

Trevor moaned, his hands tightening a little on your thighs, but not pushing you away, knowing you were in control. It was a perfect mix of submission and desire. He gave in because he knew you would give him everything he wanted and more.

“You’re mine…” he murmured, his voice husky, but there was a sweetness behind his words that contrasted with the fire in his eyes.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, you lowered your hips slowly, letting him sink into you inch by inch. You both let out moans as you felt him fill you completely, the feeling of him stretching you, filling you to the limit, was a heady mix of pleasure and power.

You began to move, slowly but firmly, setting your own pace, with Trevor’s hands caressing your thighs, admiring how you took control over him. Each time you rose and fell, the pleasure intensified, his thickness rubbing every sensitive part inside you. Your hands found his chest, and you leaned into him, taking full control as you rode at your own pace, looking straight into his eyes.

“So good… so perfect…” he whispered between moans, completely surrendered to you, letting you lead the moment, loving every second of it.

You were in charge, and Trevor, with his body tense beneath you, had become yours completely.

As your body moved rhythmically over him, a surge of desire washed over you at the thought of what he was doing. The mix of pleasure and power brought you to an almost euphoric state. You could feel Trevor giving himself over completely, his moans filling the air, each one deeper than the last, reflecting his desire to lose himself in you.

“I want you to fill me, Trevor. I want you to make me yours.” Your voice was a seductive whisper, with a hint of challenge. You knew he wanted the same, he wanted to leave his mark on you, and you were more than willing to let him do it.

His response was immediate. With one firm move, he caught you, spinning you around so he was on top of you. The dominance in his stance made you smile, but you were still the one in control. Even in that position, you made sure to keep up the pace, driving him to the edge of madness. Trevor’s hands found your hip, pushing you a little closer to him, filling you up even more, as if he knew exactly what you wanted.

“You’re perfect for me,” he said between gasps, his eyes locked on yours. “I want you to be full of me, for everyone to know you’re mine.”

You felt the desire for him to fill you, to leave his seed in you, to become the mother of his child. The feeling of him pounding into you, of each thrust pushing you closer to that longing, made you lose yourself in the madness of pleasure.

The sound of sloshing echoed through the room, the echo of his pleasure filling the space as Trevor pounded into you hard. You could feel his full, heavy balls slapping against your ass with every movement, a constant reminder of his desire to possess you.

“I’m going to fill you up, baby,” he murmured, his voice low and lust-laden. That simple phrase sent a shiver through your body.

Your hands slid down to your belly, resting them there as you looked into his eyes, feeling his cock move inside you. The thought that you could become pregnant with him lit an even more intense flame inside you.

“I want you to feel me fill you up,” he continued, his thrusts becoming deeper, more demanding. “Feel my cock fuck you until you’re pregnant.”

Every thrust seemed to be trying to reach deeper into you, to leave you completely marked by him.

“Trevor!” You gasped, unable to contain yourself as the pleasure built up, a storm of sensations ravaging your body.

He responded with a guttural moan, increasing his pace, overwhelming your body with each thrust. His gaze was filled with desire, and you could see in his eyes the longing to create something together.

“You’re going to be a beautiful mother,” he sighed, his face filled with determination as he continued his movements.

You bit your lip, enjoying every moment, the slap of his balls against your ass, the brush of his skin against yours.

“That’s it, baby,” you whispered, letting your voice drop to a tantalizing whisper. “I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

His response was instant. Trevor quickened his pace, bringing you to a state of almost indescribable pleasure. And in that moment, with one last deep thrust, you felt the jets of his essence being released inside you, flooding your core.

Your body trembled, the explosion of pleasure enveloping you as he filled you, the sound of his ragged breaths mixing with the echo of desire in the room.

He was still inside you, the connection between you still palpable. Trevor settled in beside you, a firm hand on your hip as he pulled you to him, as if he didn’t want anything to come between you.

“Let’s sleep like this,” he said in a deep voice, his hot breath caressing your ear. “You’ll be a good wife and you’ll warm my cock and my cum inside you.”

The way he said those words made a shiver run through your body, a latent desire that hadn’t been quenched.

#castlevania x reader #castlevania x you #trevor belmont x reader #trevor belmont #—demensrage.#kinktober

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b00kdiary · 1 year ago

Note

Okay, you write the most delicious smut, so I think the plus-size reader is watching Cassian and Azriel spar and gets lost in her imagination about what they could do to her. And the duo finds out (maybe from Rhys), and one night at dinner, they offer to make her dreams reality. If you already have something like this in mind, please feel free to ignore it. I just think Az and Cassian would be down bad for a plus-size reader 🙂

Take it | Azriel & Cassian (I)

Azriel x Cassian x Plus Size Reader

Rhysand's playing Cupid and his meddling has you experiencing something you never would have thought possible.

Warnings: Mature content (18+) mild violence, mature language, illusions to smut (smut in part 2)

PART II

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

I knew I should have skipped training today.

From the moment Mor told me that she wasn't attending, that Feyre wouldn't be coming either and that I was alone with Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel- I knew I should have skipped.

Because now I was here, the scorching sun beaming down over my sweating skin, the barren wind a bare caress through my damp pleated hair- and my eyes unwavering upon the two Illyrian males before me.

Sparring.

"C'mon Azriel," Cassian taunted, hazel eyes gleaming with mischief as he danced around the Shadowsinger, his arrogant demeanour so at odds with Azriel's still, quiet form. "Don't tell me you're already tapping out."

Azriel smirked, the smallest tilt of his lips and I felt a shiver trace down the curve of my spine, watching as his powerful thighs rippled with every step he took, scarred hands angled out before him- waiting.

"And miss all the fun?" He mused softly, head cocking, a purely predatory move and the laugh that escaped Cassian was rough as if the banter between them made this all the more exciting.

It didn't usually affect me like this, I didn't usually feel such a strong, visceral response to the two of them. Yes, they were both unbelievably gorgeous and yes, I enjoyed watching them as much as any female did.

But it never affected me as much as it did right now, as strongly as it did from the moment I stepped onto the rooftop and greeted them. It had been hard to deny how my body felt then and it was even worse now.

Especially with them like this- shirtless, sweating, muscles rippling, powerful wings splaying wide, and taunts being thrown between them that made my thighs clench.

I pressed my back into the jagged wall behind me, anchoring myself down with the bite of the concrete against my skin, cutting in through the thin material of my legging and top. The shield I'd erected around me rippled, my emotions overwhelming my control over my magic.

Cassian grunted- raw and grumbling as he swung a fist out aimed for Azriel's rib but was swiftly blocked by a scarred hand shielding close to his tanned skin. Azriel gritted his teeth, his free hand slamming forward, palm connecting brutally with Cassian's shoulder, sending him stumbling back a few steps.

Cassian grinned, feral.

Azriel's eyes narrowed, tongue flicking out to moisten his lips.

And the wetness between my thighs grew and grew, the throbbing ache now incessant, so strong that no matter how hard I clenched my thighs shut it did nothing to quell the need. I swallowed against the dryness in my throat, my body thrumming the longer I watched them.

A deep grunt, a rough, taunting laugh, bodies colliding, wings erected high, sweat and blood over perfect tan skin, trailing down corded muscle and carved abs. Movement so fast that I forced myself not to blink in case I missed something, fighting so intense it was impossible to look away.

And a heat coursing through my body so forcefully I felt like I was going to explode.

'What do we have here?' A voice crooned through my mind, a voice like starlight and I jolted at the intrusion, 'The shield can hide the smell of your arousal, Y/N, but it can't hide the lust in your eyes.'

"Rhys," Cassian grinned, canines bearing to show the blood coating his teeth, and Azriel laughed softly as the male wiggled his brows, eyes upon our High Lord as he stalked in. "Care to join the fun?"

Rhysand smirked, a lazy sight, ringed hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks and my body grew hot, mortification filling me as his long legs brought him closer to where I stood. His violet eyes flash to me- knowingly.

"I think Y/N might be more interested in joining actually," Rhysand mused, his tone dripping with amusement and teasing, and I felt my eyes narrow irately as I glared up at him. "I'm sure she could take it."

My hands clenched as Rhysand's smirk grew, pearly teeth peeking through, seeing how my throat bobbed when Cassian and Azriel both glanced at me expectantly, panting.

"Alright angel," Cassian winked, and I managed a strained smile, feeling my cheeks growing unbearable hot- and Rhysand laughing through my mind. "You're sparring next."

'If only he knew that this wasn't the kind of sparring you were interested in,' Rhys taunted through my mind and I felt his claws racking down my mental shields, so strong I clenched my jaw to stop myself from snarling at him.

'Fuck off, Rhys' I sent a shock of my power through my mind and Rhysand's spine straightened beside me, though that smirk never once left his lips. 'I don't know what you're even talking about.'

'No?' He muses and I roll my eyes as his shoulder brushes mine, my body so stiff as I grab hold of my water bottle, my fingers shaking and weak as I uncap the lid. 'So, you're not having some very naughty thoughts about my General and Spymaster right now?'

'No,' I gritted out mentally, hating how I was falling for the bait, hating that he could see just how caught off guard I was. My eyes flutter as Azriel grumbles, shadows coiling around his lean waist and broad shoulders as he and Cassian circle each other. 'No, I'm not.'

Another rumbling laugh through my mind, a brush of Rhysand's shoulder against me, and the water bottle shakes in my hand as I bring it to my mouth, needing to distract myself desperately.

The mouth of the bottle touches my lip, the lukewarm water just barely tracing my tongue- and then my mind shifts.

And the images leak in.

Scarred hands cupping my breasts, toying with my hard nipples.

Canines scrapping my pulse point, my fingers curled around silken locks of dark hair.

I hear myself moaning as a head slips between my soft thighs, my eyes clenching shut as I rock my hips against the skilled tongue, back arching when another mouth finds purchase around my taut nipple.

I'm trapped between those two magnificent, corded bodies, massive wings shielding our nakedness- but I feel every touch, every kiss, every whispered praise as they worship me.

"Y/N!"

Another blink and the images are gone from my mind, replaced by the world around me again. And three pairs of eyes on me- all of them wide, unblinking, worried as they watch me.

"What happened, sweetheart?" Azriel breathes, chest rising and falling fast as he sucks in air, and I trace over the dark whorls covering his skin as I blink away the thoughts. "Are you okay?"

"I'm uh- I'm fine," I clear my throat, skin burning with heat and that embarrassment only grows when I spot my water bottle dropped at my feet, water already drying up on the concrete. Rhysand snickers as I swiftly reach down and grab it and my hands tremble as I hold it to my chest.

'You should tell them what you want, Y/N,' Rhys mutters through my mind and when I glance sideways at him, he merely smiles, bland and natural, as if he wasn't currently wading through my thoughts. 'They'd be more than happy to make it happen.'

"I think I'm done for today, boys," I manage a small smile, as I turn to grab my training bag at my side, glad for the reprieve from their eyes, even if I felt them wholly on my back. "Too fucking hot out."

'Y/N,' Rhysand called through my mind again, and the teasing was gone- replaced by something sincere.

'They won't be interested,' I hiss back, a lump lodging in my throat as I turn toward the males behind me, still standing watching me. ' I'm not going to embarrass myself by saying something.'

"I thought you wanted to spar?" Cassian raises a dark brow at me, hazel eyes watching carefully as I walk past Rhysand, not sparing him a second glance. "I'll go easy on you if you're scared, angel."

"Didn't she kick your ass last time, Cass?" Rhysand snorted, and I watched Azriel's lips tilt into a full-blow smile, a breathtaking sight as Cassian rolled his eyes, grinning as he flipped off the male behind me.

'You're lying to yourself if you think they're not interested in you,' His voice made me grit my teeth, my back steeling as I inched toward the door. ' Why don't you just find out?'

"Don't rough each other up too bad," I chuckle, ignoring the ache in my chest as I glance between the three of them, ignoring Rhysand's claws in my mind, "Seeing your pretty faces is the best part of my day."

Cassian grins, winking fiendishly at me.

Azriel smiles, red tinting his cheeks.

And Rhysand just cocks his head- almost as if to say see, I told you so.

I turn on my heel, my smile fading as soon as my back is to them and I'm walking toward that exit.

'Drop it, Rhys,' I warn, letting him feel how utterly serious I was, 'I mean it.'

***

'You're lying to yourself if you think they're not interested in you.'

Rhysand didn't know how wrong he was.

It was kind of him, sweet even, to say that two males as beautiful and perfect as Azriel and Cassian would have any interest in me, any sexual desire- even if it couldn't be further from the truth.

Not when I didn't hold a candle to Mor, who they both wholly desired, whose face and body and beauty were incomparable, something that I couldn't have, have never had, not in a million years.

And not when in all the years I've known them, neither of them have ever looked at me the way they look at her- with true lust. No desire, no primitive focus, no carnal need, I was their little sister, the female they loved but could never love like that.

I swallow down that bitter dose of reality as I make my way through the silent corridors of the House of Wind, my heels clinking against the smooth floor, as I get closer to the dining room. There's no sound in the house, unusual for this time of day.

I run my hands down the soft silk dress I wore, the dark green material clinging to my waist before cascading down my thighs, stopping mid-calf. It was more effort than I usually bothered with for dinner with the court, but Rhysand had insisted.

'A special dinner' he had said in his note 'Never hurts to dress up and celebrate our family.'

But as I turn the corridor, pushing past the ajar dining room door- it doesn't seem like much of a celebration.

"Y/N," Cassian greets, smiling over his broad shoulder at me, the material of his black shirt melding perfectly to every hard inch of him. I take a few tentative steps into the room and his eyes grace down my figure, over the dress I wore.

"Hey Cass," I mutter, brow furrowing as I take in the two glasses of red wine, a third sat empty and clean beside them and only three chairs surrounded the oak table Cassian stood before. "Where is everyone?"

My body shivers when something dances around my right ankle, the touch unbearably soft and I giggle when I glance down, noticing the shadow that wreathed around my calf, inching higher up my dress.

"Feyre's cycle started so Rhys is looking after her," Cassian said, wincing in a way that told me he was thankful not to be a female enduring that kind of pain. An amused snort came from behind me, and I didn't need to turn to know that it was Azriel, could feel his quiet scrutiny and recognise it anywhere. "And Mor and Amren had some Hewn City crap to deal with."

"So much for dressing up and celebrating the family," I mumble taking a few steps forward, and when Azriel places his large hand on the small of my back, I feel the touch through every inch of my body. I swallow, glancing over my shoulder at him, meeting those bright hazel eyes.

"It's just us three tonight," Azriel muses lowly, and my dress feels like a non-existent barrier between his hand and my back, his scarred thumb brushing soft circles there. "Is that alright Y/N?"

"Y-yes," I mentally curse myself for the stutter, my cheeks blazing when Azriel's lip tilts into a bare smirk, his eyes glancing to Cassian and gleaming with something dark. I clear my throat, managing a strained smile, "Me and my two favourite Illyrian males, should be fun."

"We won't tell Rhysand you said that" Cassian winks and I grin as Azriel leads me forward, his hand still on my back, burning and igniting my skin, guiding me to the chair- he pulls it out for me, his touch gentle as he helps me take a seat and tucks me in.

"He's my favourite High Lord though, so it's fine," I tease, waving a dismissive hand and I try to force myself to be calm and at ease as Azriel and Cassian take the two seats in front of me, their powerful bodies so foreboding as they settle into the chairs.

"Feyre's my favourite High Lady, Mor's my favourite blonde," I prattle on, ignoring their intense stares as I fiddle with my hands in my laps, trying to babble through my unease. "And Amren's my favourite short, angry person."

"We definitely won't tell Amren you said that" Cassian snickers and I release a tight breath of relief when Azriel begins to pour me a glass of wine, his eyes locking with mine as he hands it to me- my hand brushes his and I swear something flashes through his eyes at the contact.

"Thank you," I whisper, and I don't waste a second before bringing the glass to my lips, my eyes fluttering shut as I tip my head back, the bittersweet liquid sliding down my throat, and I keep drinking until it's all gone.

I feel the tingle the alcohol induces instantly, fae wine so much stronger than the regular stuff and it's exactly the kind of buzz I needed right now, the kind that distracted me from the way my body felt when in the same room as these two males.

I bring the glass back down to the table with a clink and only then do I realise the tense silence in the room. I blink away the haze, and when my eyes meet Cass and Az again, I'm surprised by the look on their faces.

Their eyes are dark, wholly dark- and zeroed in on my lips, watching every breath and move with predatory focus.

"Is-is there something on my face?" I raise a brow, chuckling uncomfortably and when I lift a hand insecurely to my mouth, Cassian releases a tight exhale, shifting in his seat so that he's leaning back, long legs and strong thighs spread under the table.

"No, you're okay," Azriel shakes his head, beautiful face soft with contemplation, though the darkness never leaves his eyes, the emotion behind them that I can't seem to decipher as he stares at my lips still. "That's a pretty shade of red, is all- don't you think so Cassian?"

"Definitely," Cassian mumbles roughly in agreement, a lazy smile pulling at his lip as he takes a long sip from his glass, his tongue flicking out to lick off the wine gathering there- and the sight was more provocative than it should have been. "Red might just be your colour, angel."

"Thanks, uh- it was a present from Mor for Winter Solstice," I swallow thickly, fighting the urge to grab the wine bottle and chug from it. "She said it was one of the most popular shades, I can't remember the name, but I thought it was funny to call it blowjob red."

Cauldron, the air shifts so fast, so severely at those words- blowjob red.

The second I say it it's like the darkness in their eyes, the intensity of their stares, their teasing remarks, it all slots into place- and their shields come crashing down. Arousal, stark and powerful, so raw and filthy that my core ached in response.

"Is that why you wore it tonight?" Azriel spoke, his voice like death incarnate, so quietly violent that my thighs clamped shut at the sound, at the heat behind every slow word. The air caught in my lungs as he cocked his head at me, predator eying prey, "To have us contemplating the feel of your pretty, red mouth?"

Pretty, red mouth.

Cauldron, I must be dreaming.

My lips parted- surprised, and for a moment, all I could do was blink dumbly, staring between them with confusion creasing my brow. They didn't speak, utterly silent as they watched me piece everything together, but I could sense their amusement when my brow furrowed deeper.

"I suppose it's only fair, for you to paint your lips that distracting shade of red, to wear a dress that hugs every curve on your body, it's fair for you to taunt us so mercilessly," Cassian smirks and my eyes widen at every word, at the sincerity behind them. "Especially since it seems we unwittingly were doing the same to you this morning during training."

Training?

Oh, shit, shit, shit- Cauldron fucking spare me.

"Unless Rhysand was being an asshole and lied to us?" Cassian continued, but his words were starting to blur now, the thrumming in my head overwhelming my senses, making it hard to hear, making it hard to see, to speak. "Y/N, did he lie?"

He told them.

Fuck, he told them.

"Hey, hey, hey-" I flinch, my knee slamming against the table when something brushes over my hot cheek. Still, I calmed my alarm upon seeing the tendril of darkness flittering past my eye-line, Azriel's shadows caressing my face, anchoring me down from the panic that was building.

"I don't-uh-," I shake my head, tears lining my eyes and I clenched them shut- I wasn't sure why I felt like crying…embarrassment? Shame? Insecurity? I guess I could pick one and it would be right. "I don't know-"

"We were hoping he wasn't lying," Azriel coaxed gently, and my burning eyes lifted to him, his lovely face was so sweet, so unfathomably kind that it forced me to take a stabilising breath.

"You were?" I question hoarsely, my throat as dry as sandpaper as I glanced from Az to Cass, something coiling in me at the sight of their perfect faces, their broad shoulders, their massive wings, and their attention solely on me.

"Angel, if we haven't made it clear how badly we want you right now, then we must be shitter at flirting than I thought," Cassian snorted and I couldn't fight the smile, the breathy laugh that escaped me at his words.

He grinned at the sight, Azriel too- as if something as small as me smiling, laughing, made their day.

'You're lying to yourself if you think they're not interested in you.'

Dammit Rhysand was right.

"Rhysand wasn't lying, he's an ass but he didn't lie," I say, releasing a long breath and this time, when my eyes lift to them, when I meet their gazes, I let them see exactly how honest he had been.

I tuck a strand of hair behind an arched ear, and I don't think either of the males is even breathing as I push out of my chair, the wood screeching against the floor before I rise to my feet.

My chest aches as their gazes instantly drop down my body- over my breasts, waist, stomach, thighs, over every inch of me.

"I'm going back to my room," I whisper, and both of them go utterly still, and their eyes sharpen, primitive, completely Fae, so strong that Azriel's shadows quieten, and Cassian's wings twitch.

"Would the two of you care to join me?"

__________________________________________

@mis-lil-red @hyemishii @assaultsofthought @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @loveareum @infintyfandoms @sarawritestories @eerievixen @nyotamalfoy

Part TWO and all its filthy smut !

Comment to be added to the tag list!

Taking requests!

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bloodyserratus · 1 year ago

Text

welcome intrusion

pairing: choso x fem!reader word count: 4.2k synopsis: in choso's mind you are dating, but you are not on the same page. when you indulge in some harmless (to you) flirting, choso takes matters into his own hands. themes/warnings: SMUT! mdni, lots of day after fluff, lil bit of plot, f2l, very possessive choso, oral, piv intercourse, dirty talk, a mirror. lmk if i missed any!

a/n: this is the part 2 of my first choso fic! ...this can be read standalone but check that out for more context ig haha

You blinked lazily as you woke. As consciousness returned to you, so did your memory of last night. Glancing around you confirmed that you were, in fact, in Choso’s room and that your memories were not rabid fantasies. Choso laid behind you with a strong arm draped loosely around your waist and as much as you wanted to snuggle against him, you also desperately needed to pee.

You shifted gingerly, trying to move without waking him. You could figure out which door led to the bathroom yourself.

“Ope?!” you let out a surprised exhale when his arm tightened around your waist and pulled you against his chest.

“Don't sneak off,” he murmured sleepily, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

“I wasn't!” you were indignant. The thought hadn't even crossed your mind. “I need to pee,” you wiggled in his hold.

“Ah,” he clicked his tongue with understanding. “Right across the hall.”

You smiled as Choso’s grip loosened reluctantly as you shuffled across the hall to do your business.

“Missed you,” Choso murmured when you tucked yourself back into him and you laughed at his joke.

Choso’s eyebrows pinched slightly at your laugh because he hadn’t been kidding, but he was satisfied that you were back in his arms. He pressed himself flush against your back and his heat under the covers melted into you.

“You're warm,” you hummed delightedly.

“Mhm,” he hummed back. “Do you have plans today?”

“No, do you?”

“Spend the day with me?” he requested hopefully.

“Okay,” you smiled.

You lazed in bed for a while longer before the sunlight started to peek through the curtains.

“I'll make coffee, stay in bed as long as you want,” Choso pressed a kiss against your forehead before he got out of bed. He pulled on a pair of sweatpants and before too long, you heard a grinding sound coming from, presumably, the kitchen.

You laid in bed for a few moments, contemplating the situation. Of all the things, sleeping with Choso was not one you had foreseen. Shrugging, you pulled yourself out of bed and found a clean shirt of his to put on. You tied your hair up and walked towards the sounds of coffee.

“Morning,” Choso greeted you with a lazy smile when you entered.

You paused in your tracks, once again taken aback by his physique. The sweatpants hung low across his hips and his musculature was nothing if not impressive. His long, dark hair fell around his shoulders and you thought about running your fingers through them again.

“What?” Choso felt you eyeing him as he poured the coffee into mugs.

“You are crazy hot, you know that right?” you tried to laugh it off.

Choso flushed, which is ridiculously endearing.

“Oh my god and you're fucking cute!” you cooed as you accepted a mug from him. You looked up at him with heart eyes and he tried to hide from your gaze.

“Quit it,” he protested bashfully.

“Why are you being so shy?” you asked playfully. “You know you’re hot right?” You took the opportunity to run a hand over his chest. His muscles flexed reflexively at your touch and his pupils dilated.

“Cho?” you pressed a kiss against his bicep. “You know, right?”

He had the gall to look sheepish when you kissed his shoulder.

“Choso!” you insisted and he responded by wrapping his arms around you and squeezing tightly. He couldn’t get enough of the sound of his name, so flirtatious on your lips.

“Thank you,” he murmured against your lips. You grinned and pressed a kiss to his lips. He grunted softly before picking you up and carrying you back to the bedroom.

He laid you down, but you pulled him down on top of you, legs wrapped around his waist as his cock pressed against you. It wasn’t until this moment that Choso noticed you were wearing his shirt and his pupils dilated. What a sight.

“Fuck,” you panted, grinding yourself against his hot, heavy erection. “Cho-”

“Pretty girl,” he ran his thumbs across your cheeks. “Want me?”

“Need you,” you pouted.

Your nipples tightened through his shirt and he pressed his tongue inside of his cheek as his gaze raked over you. Where to start?

“Wait,” you interrupted his thoughts. “Lay down.”

“Hm?” his eyebrows raised.

“Please?” you smiled brightly at him.

Choso’s eyes were still questioning, but he laid down where you gestured. You moved to the foot of the bed and ran your hands up along his legs, through the fabric of his sweats. You traced the contours of his shins, his strong quads, and his thick cock. You admired the outline of it through your fingers and Choso jerked when you squeezed gently.

You bit your bottom lip as you continued to trace up the contours of his abs and his chest, brushing lightly against his piercings. You grinned mischievously before running your hands over his shoulders and back down his muscular arms.

“You are so…,” you admired him dreamily. “Fucking hot.”

Choso blushed furiously up at you. Your chest grew tight. Something about the way color spread across the bridge of his nose made you tingly all over.

“God I like it when you blush,” you exhaled, learning forward to pepper kisses along the pink.

Choso’s breath caught at the way you were so generously affectionate with him. God he liked you. He had always liked you, but having you now was something else.

“Cho,” you gasped at the friction, “You're so hard.”

“Look what you're doing to me,” he chuckled darkly.

“Let me take care of you,” you moaned at his words. It was difficult, but you managed to pull yourself away from him and settled, instead, between his legs. “Let me take care of this beautiful cock,” you hummed as you nuzzled your face against his erection.

“Ah fuck,” he hissed as he watched you rub your cheeks and lips wantonly against his cock. Your lips nibbled through the soft fabric and your mouth fell open in desperate pants. God he wanted to place his hand on the back of your head and press you down on him, but he also loved letting you explore him freely.

“Shit…baby, baby, baby,” he muttered desperately, “Put it in your mouth, baby, please!” he panted, squirming impatiently.

“Yes sir,” you answer him playfully before closing your lips around his engorged cockhead. He was hot against your tongue and his hips bucked up reflexively, hitting you in the back of the throat. “Fuck! Cho,” you coughed.

“Shit, sorry, I’m sorry!” He apologized profusely. “It felt so good,” he offered weakly in explanation. His expression was both guilty and crazed and you had to admit, you liked the way you could make him lose control.

“Don’t be,” you bit your bottom lip to hold back your desire. “I like it rough,” you grinned before lowering yourself onto him again. You relaxed your throat around his cock and took him down to the hilt.

Choso was all breathy pants and muttered curses while you milked him. He stared, eyes glazed over, at the sight of you eagerly swallowing his entire erection and it was only the thought of cumming in your pussy that was able to keep him from losing his sense and nutting down your throat. He bucked up into your mouth a few more times before pulling you off. When you looked up at him, eyes dark and mouth wet with saliva, he groaned deeply and pulled your mouth to meet his.

Choso guided you to straddle him and he grasped his cock, swiping the head through your folds. He grinned when you shuddered and he teased you a few more times before sliding up into you.

“Cho-!” you gasped, at his forceful upwards buck. Your eyes rolled back as he thrust up into you, harsh and rough. He watched you with dark eyes as you held onto his shoulders, hanging on weakly as he fucked you…hard.

“Cho-so,” your hands clawed around the back of his neck as he stroked in and out of you.

“So good, so good, so good,” he murmured like an incantation. “God this pussy is so fucking good!”

The forceful puncture of his words had your toes curling and you started to lose it. Sensing the change, Choso reached up and tweaked your nipples between his fingers and you clenched, walls fluttering around him as you came undone.

“Choooo~!” you squealed and he enjoyed the exhilarating sight of you coming apart on him, for him.

He gritted his teeth as you squeezed and clenched on him. He could hardly believe it, but he managed to stay together through your orgasm. He flipped you onto your back and grabbed your wrists, lifting them over your head.

“Put your hands on the wall,” he instructed. When you looked at him with confusion, all he said was, “Watch your head,” before he drove into you, deeper and harder than before.

You let out a surprised cry as your hands flew to the wall, bracing yourself. Choso was strong and he leveraged every bit of that to drive his hard cock into your clenching pussy. The sounds that came out of your mouth were no short of crazy and the pleased look on Choso’s face had you melting.

“Wanna cum in you, angel,” Choso muttered between thrusts.

“Please, please, please,” you nodded frantically. You wanted that too. Desperately.

Choso’s balls tightened and the word ‘mine’ echoed through his mind as he came, heavy and hard, into you. ‘Mine, mine, mine’ was all he could hear until his crazed haze subsided.

“I think our coffee’s getting cold,” you smiled up at him affectionately as you pushed some of his hair back.

“Probably,” he chuckled, but he let his heavy body weight on yours for a while longer before he could summon the willpower to pull away.

…

Choso watched you, chest full of butterflies, as you greeted someone’s dog. After showering and drinking your tepid coffees, you’d made a plan for the day which included brunch and then shopping. You’d been on your way to brunch when a puppy had derailed you and you were now petting its belly happily as Choso looked on.

“Agh he’s so cute!” you’d cooed when you’d finally returned to his side and continued on your jaunt towards the restaurant.

“You’re cute,” he laughed, looping his arm through yours as you walked.

You watched Choso over your menu as he read through his. You wondered what this was to him. For as long as you’d been acquainted with him, you’d never known him to date. Perhaps he was more of a casual person…you supposed that could be fine. You lived a little further apart than was ideal for dating, anyways.

Choso looked up and caught your gaze. You panicked and lifted your menu up to cover your face. Heat crept up your cheeks at having been caught staring, but Choso’s lips curled into a smile. It felt really nice to be out on a date with you. To be able to think of you as his girlfriend. After having been so content being on his own for many years, he was surprised at how natural it felt.

“Want to check out the record store after this? They sell books and tea too,” he asked. He’d spend the entire day with you, if you’d let him.

“Sure!” you nodded, glad that he hadn’t mentioned your staring.

…

You walked purposefully from the dining area to the lobby. Tonight was the rehearsal dinner and you were anxious for things to go smoothly. Rationally, you knew that they should, but you couldn’t help the small string of worry about something going wrong. You were scanning the room to locate Yuko and Yuji again when an arm shot out and pulled you into another hallway.

“Oh?” you tensed up and then relaxed when you realized it was Choso. You smiled at him shyly. “Hey.”

“Hey,” his eyes searching yours, “You good?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “Just…a lot going on,” you bounced on the balls of your feet.

“I know,” he brushed his thumb across your cheek reassuringly. “It’ll be fine though. As long as those two get hitched…it’s a success. And honestly I don’t think we could stop them even if we tried,” he laughed, jerking his eyebrows towards the couple who was canoodling at the head of the table.

You laughed. Choso was right, you could relax. Everything would be fine.

Choso admired you as you watched the husband and wife to be. Your eyes softened as you smiled and Choso was filled with a rush of desire. He wanted to pull you into a supply closet, he wanted to kiss you, he wanted to cart you off and do unspeakable things to you. He cleared his throat and stepped away from you in an effort to get a grip. It was Yuji and Yuko’s wedding. He wanted to wait until the nuptials were over until he shared that you two were dating so as not to steal their thunder.

Your smile fell a hair when Choso stepped away from you. Choso had been hot and cold all night. He’d held your hand under the table, thumb brushing against yours, but then dropped it quickly when Yuji and Yuko had approached from behind. He’d draped his hand around your hip when he’d approached you at the bar before seeming to remember himself and then pulling away stiffly. It made a certain sense, you surmised. It felt natural to be more physical after what had happened between you, but Choso must not want to give you the wrong impression.

…

“Megumiiiiii!” a cheery voice rang out from behind you. You could place Gojo’s voice from a mile away.

As Yuji’s mentor, he hadn’t been present at the rehearsal dinner yesterday, but he was invited to the ceremony.

“Gojo-san,” Megumi greeted the man reluctantly before returning his attention to his conversation with you. You liked Megumi despite his excessively stern exterior.

“Wow, YN!” Gojo raked his eyes over you as he settled into the bar behind Megumi. “You look…wow,” his jaw dropped appreciatively as he really took you in. His eyes burned hot little trails into your skin.

“Thanks,” you laughed, heat running through you at his hungry stare. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

This was true. Gojo was tall and handsome, so he cut quite the figure in formalwear.

“Grab you a drink?” he asked, eyeing your empty glass.

“Sure, why not?” you shrugged, telling him your order.

“Seriously,” Gojo let out a low whistle as he looked you over again. “This color really suits you.”

You laughed. Gojo was a notorious flirt, but it felt nice to be on the receiving end of such a handsome man’s compliments. Gojo’s index finger traced down the thin strap on your shoulder and you shivered at his touch.

“Gojo!” you chuckled, but your voice was breathy.

Choso fumed. He had seen Gojo approach you out of the corner of his eye. That fact alone had been enough to trigger a small flicker of jealousy in his stomach. When you’d laughed at Gojo’s words and then when he had dared to touch you…the small flicker was stoked into a steady flame.

“Oh! Gojo-sensei and YN?” Yuji observed innocently. “They look kind of cute together, don’t they?”

Choso’s fist clenched.

“I don’t think Gojo is the serious type,” Todo raised an eyebrow at his best friendo.

“Ah, that’s alright too,” Yuji waved a hand at the massive man. “If you ask me, she could use a fling! She’s been single for…forever!”

Gojo felt Choso’s eyes on him before he saw them. It was impossible not to. As soon as he had approached you, a pair of piercing, dark eyes had trailed him. When you had laughed and smiled at him, they had narrowed a fraction, and then Gojo had reached out a finger to trace the strap of your dress, the look he received could have killed. Gojo laughed. He wasn’t particularly close to Yuji’s brother, but he’d always thought of him as rather passive. How interesting.

“Cousin,” Noritoshi jerked Choso out of his thoughts with a friendly smile.

“Ah, Noritoshi,” Choso tried to rearrange his thoughts quickly. “How are you?”

Choso tried to focus on what his cousin was saying to him. Something about his father or grandfather, but truthfully Choso couldn’t concentrate on anything other than Gojo who was getting rather handsy with you. And to his dismay…you did nothing to discourage it. If anything, you were entertaining his flirting and that brought out a side of Choso that was positively cavemanish.

“Well, you’re clearly not listening,” Noritoshi raised an eyebrow at Choso and then followed the line of his gaze to you and Gojo. “Perhaps you should do something about it,” he suggested logically before walking away.

Choso thought for a moment. If it were any other occasion than Yuji’s wedding, he already would have. But his desire to be a good older brother was strong and he was resolute on not making a scene if he could avoid it. He even believed himself until Gojo wrapped his arms around your waist in a playful embrace and his control snapped. More than enough.

Yuji’s face grew comical as Choso strode across the room angrily. His eyes and mouth morphed into perfect circles when Choso bisected himself between you and Gojo.

“Hey,” Choso’s hand sifted through your hair and he pressed his lips against your forehead before he fixed Gojo with a hard stare.

“...Choso?” you blinked, suddenly hot all over at this territorial display. He was staking a claim and quite conspicuously at that.

Hearing his name from your lips, his eyes slid down to you and you were surprised at the emotion you saw brimming over in them. You squeezed your thighs together, trying to hold in the jolt of arousal that shot through you.

Yuji and Yuko’s mouths were long, matching ovals as they watched Choso all but carry you away. They blinked at each other before squealing with delight.

“Choso?” you asked, unable to bear the heavy, weighted silence filling the elevator as it ascended.

The elevator dinged to signal its arrival before Choso answered. He took your hand in his and led you to the door of his room before he met your eyes again.

“Why were you flirting with him?” His words were even and measured.

“Who, Gojo?” You asked in confusion. Gojo flirted with everyone, it hadn't been serious. And not like you had a reason not to.

“Of course Gojo,” he answered as if speaking to a child.

“It's Gojo!” you shrugged, “He's a flirt!”

“But you are not single anymore,” Choso exhaled. He leaned over you, placing a hand against the wall.

Your head jerked in surprise at this statement. You weren't?

Choso saw red when you had the audacity to look surprised. He unlocked the door and hauled you inside. He'd show you if that's what it took.

“Cho…,” his name died in your throat as you looked at him. He looked crazed. He shrugged out of his suit jacket and tugged his tie off angrily.

You were still confused, but more pressing you were incredibly turned on at the way he got undressed. You could tell he was going to be rough and you were not against it. You tried to reach for the zipper on your dress.

“Don’t bother,” he stopped you by setting you on the edge of his bed.

His hands raked your skirts up in large handfuls, exposing your calves and thighs to him. The collar of his shirt hung open and you enjoyed a glorious view of his muscular chest. You hooked an arm around his neck, angling yourself towards him. His eyes traced a triangle…eye, lips, eye. You expected him to kiss you next, but he instead sank to his knees and dove under your skirt. He placed hot kisses up your inner thighs as he pressed them open. You were gasping like a fish out of water by the time he placed his first sloppy kiss against your overheated cunt.

“Choso!” you cried, thighs closing around his head. His fingertips bit into your flesh as he pried you back open and continued.

You moaned his name again and he grinned. That was right…Choso. He’d have you calling his name until you were seeing stars. Until it was burned into your mind. You reached for him, but your skirt was in the way. Instead you settled for placing your hand on the outline of his head through your skirt.

Choso ate you out like he was starved. He pressed lush, sloppy kisses against you. His lips pushed at the hood of your clit as his tongue swiped against your entrance. He sucked your lips into his mouth and then spread them back apart with his tongue. For lack of a better word, he was making out exuberantly with your pussy and it was incredible.

Choso felt frenzied at the sounds you made and the way you tasted. The way you kept trying to close your thighs around his ears and how you whined when he held you open for him. You had coated his mouth and chin and still he wanted more. Could stay down here forever. The pitch of your voice grew ecstatic as you clutched at him desperately. Your skirts were a rumpled mess and you warned him that you were close. He latched his lips around your clit and sucked harshly, drawing the orgasm out of you. You his name gloriously as your body tensed and you let go. Your legs grew limp and he resurfaced, looking down at you with a dripping chin.

“Choso,” you panted, out of breath and recovering. You reached for him, but he held himself cruelly out of arm’s length. He peeled the rest of his clothes off and you watched, transfixed by the expanses of skin as they were exposed to you.

Afterwards, he stood you up to face the mirror on the wall as he unzipped your dress and pulled it off of you. He grabbed you by the chin and turned your head to meet his eyes in the reflection.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he demanded as his hands traced across your skin. You shivered and goosebumps broke out at his caresses. He traced the undersides of your breasts, across your collarbones, and over the swells of your hips. His lips kissed at the side of your neck and you let out soft whimpers and squeaks at his touches.

“Choso, please…,” you whined, brows furrowing desperately at him.

“Yes, baby?” he replied, feigning clueless.

“You’re teasing,” you pouted, hoping he might be sympathetic.

“Mhm.”

“Please fuck me!” you begged.

“Not Gojo?” he arched an eyebrow.

“Choso! Fuck Gojo!” you stamped a foot with impatience.

Choso’s jaw ticked. You would do no such thing.

“Get on the bed, face the mirror,” he instructed, arranging you so that you were laying on your stomach, prone beneath him. He laid on top of you and wrapped his arms over your shoulders and grasped your chin. Again he met your eyes in the mirror and his breathing was warm and wet against your ear when he spoke. “Watch me…as I make you mine,” he purred and then his hips hitched, driving himself into you.

“Fuck!” you cried, eyes widening as you watched his reflection. His eyebrows were pinched and his grip on your chin was rough. He bucked into you, fucking you just as harshly.

“Choso,” you arched beneath him, hips lifting of their own accord until you were folded at the hips. This fucking angle…

“So pretty for me,” his eyes locked on yours.

As you held his gaze, you realized suddenly that you loved this. Adored his possession.

“Yours,” you blinked through glassy eyes, your look full of meaning.

“Mine,” he growled as he pulled you back onto himself again and again. His thrusts were deep, hard, and rhythmic and your cries of pleasure matched his pace.

Choso watched as your hands clutched at the air. Your pupils were blown out with ecstasy and you struggled to keep your eyes on him as he had requested.

“Yours, Choso,” you gasped and he felt you clench around him.

Choso drove into you and kept himself deep inside of you, his balls grinding against your clit and his head pressing against your cervix. Your eyes squeezed shut, overwhelmed by the sensation and you squeezed hard around him, orgasm ripping through you.

“Only yours,” you sighed almost sheepishly.

“Only mine,” he grunted. His chest came forward to press against your back as he emptied himself inside of you.

He rolled you both to your side, keeping himself inside of you. He pulled you close and pressed soft kisses against the top of your head.

“So…,” you spoke first. “I'm not single anymore?”

Choso managed to feel shy at your direct questioning.

“I-...,” he stammered.

“No, don't be shy now!” you tutted at him. “You were quite clear before!” you giggled.

“I'm happy to show you again…,” he rasped into the crook of your neck.

“I’m kind of a slow learner,” your lips threatened a grin as you arched into him with a satisfied purr.

#choso smut #choso fanfic #choso x reader #choso kamo #choso #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #serrated writing

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rmadridcore · 4 months ago

Text

Between Us - Part 2

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x Reader

Summary: You and Kylian have been inseparable friends for years, but when unspoken feelings bubble to the surface, everything changes.

Word Count: 3.1K

Part 1 Part 3 Epilogue

Masterlist

Author's note: I was thinking to post this today after the game but Real Madrid most likely won’t give us anything to be happy about lmao so here it is 😭 Thank you so so much to everyone who read the first part, I'm so glad you enjoyed it 🥹 Let me know what you think about this one. All the love 💕🎀 - Ellie.

Mornings used to be your favorite time when you were a kid. Waking up always meant you’d soon be seeing Kylian. You two would meet right before school and walk there together every morning, no matter the weather. While dreary Parisian Mondays weren’t particularly fun for a child, for you, they always meant another day spent with him.

But now, mornings weren’t the same. They were quiet, lonely even. You woke up alone, the excitement of seeing Kylian long gone, replaced by the daily grind of adulthood.

After getting out of bed, you stuck to your usual routine: skincare, coffee, jog. It had become your ritual, a way to fill the silence.

After slipping into your workout clothes and putting on your favorite playlist, you headed to the nearby park for a morning run. Usually, the steady rhythm of your feet hitting the pavement and the rush of fresh air helped clear your mind. But not today. Today, Kylian lingered in your thoughts, as he often did. It had been a week since that night at the gala, and the memory of nearly confessing your feelings for him still haunted you. But, like always, you had pulled yourself back at the last moment, the familiar self-control overpowering your desire.

Jogging normally helped push away intrusive thoughts, the early-morning energy a distraction from whatever was troubling you. But Kylian was different. Thoughts of him stuck like glue, impossible to shake. He had that kind of grip on people. Once you knew him, truly knew him, it was impossible not to crave his presence. He was magnetic, and the thought of losing him was unbearable. And, of course, for you, it was worse. You were in love with him — hopelessly, endlessly, in love with your best friend.

Without realizing it, you had started running faster, pushing yourself harder, as though you could outrun your feelings. Your lungs burned, and you finally stopped, collapsing onto a nearby bench, gasping for air. Sweat dripped down your forehead, your breath coming in ragged bursts. As you tried to steady yourself, you felt someone approach.

“I have to admit, I was hoping to bump into you somewhere,” a voice said, slightly breathless.

You looked up, still catching your breath. “Louis,” you smiled, surprised to see him. “Good to see you, too.”

He smiled warmly, pulling out his earphones. “I jog here almost every morning and I’ve never seen you around.”

“I used to come more often,” you explained, still breathing heavily. “Work’s been crazy lately.”

“Well, I’m glad you took the time today,” he said, and the two of you began walking together.

The conversation flowed easily, just like it had at the gala. Louis was a great conversationalist. Smooth, engaging, and polite. He knew how to ask the right questions and keep things moving without any awkward pauses, which you appreciated, since that was never your strong suit. His energy was light and refreshing, and for a brief moment, you managed to forget about Kylian.

After about 15 minutes of walking and talking, Louis’ phone rang. He glanced at the screen and then at you with a soft smile. “Looks like I have to get to work.”

As you both prepared to part ways, Louis hesitated, then asked, “Y/N, could I get your number? I’d love to meet up again with you.”

You froze for a moment, unsure. Kylian always seemed to loom over any chance you had at starting something new. How could you invest in someone else when your heart belonged so completely to him? Even when Kylian wasn’t making an effort, no one could ever make you feel what he did.

But maybe now was the time to start. Maybe Louis wasn’t the one, but at least he was a step in the right direction. You needed to try and move on. To reclaim your life, free from Kylian’s unintentional hold.

“Sure,” you said with a smile, giving Louis your number. He looked genuinely pleased, promising to text you later.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of normalcy. Work was smooth, uneventful even. Your thoughts had finally calmed down, and for the first time in a while, your mind wasn’t consumed by the ever-present tangle of emotions surrounding Kylian.

While out on your lunch break, your phone lit up with a notification:

Hey :) It’s Louis. How about dinner tonight?

You smiled at the cheeky smiley face and responded.

Dinner sounds great.

“I see that smile,” your coworker Gabriella teased, raising an eyebrow.

You chuckled. “Just a date.”

“With who?” Gabriella leaned in, curious.

You told her about Louis and the brief encounter at the gala, downplaying it but also feeling a small spark of excitement. Gabriella seemed more excited for you than you were, but you were looking forward to the evening.

By 6:45, you were finishing your hair. Your waves were soft and effortless, perfectly complementing the pale pink dress you had picked out. Minimal makeup highlighted your best features, and as you looked in the mirror, you felt a strange sense of pride. You looked beautiful, and it felt good to dress up for someone new.

With Kylian, you never had to put in any effort. He had seen you at your best and worst, from glamorous outfits to messy sweatpants. To him, you were always beautiful, and for that, you were grateful. But tonight felt different. With Louis, it was a chance to present your best self.

Sitting on the couch, you checked the time. 6:58. Louis would be here any minute. Your phone buzzed, and your heart skipped for a second, expecting a text from him. But it wasn’t Louis.

It was Kylian.

Wanna come over? I’m off early today.

Of course. Of all the nights, Kylian had to pick this one to invite you over. He always seemed to disrupt your plans, whether you liked it or not. If you rejected men for him, he’d show up. If you agreed to go out with them, he’d still find a way to remind you of his presence.

But tonight wasn’t about him. It was about you. You weren’t going to let him get in the way this time. Quickly, you replied:

Sorry, got plans tonight.

His reply came almost instantly.

Work?

You hesitated for a moment, then decided there was no point in hiding it.

I’m going on a date.

For what felt like an eternity, you watched as the three dots appeared, then disappeared, then reappeared. Kylian typed and erased his response several times, before finally leaving you on read.

You rolled your eyes in frustration. What is his problem?

Before you could dwell on it further, Louis texted that he was outside. You grabbed your things, took a deep breath, and headed out.

The car ride was smooth and easy, filled with laughter and lighthearted conversation. You found yourself relaxing, enjoying Louis’ company. He was sweet, thoughtful, and charming, and it felt nice to be on a date with someone who genuinely wanted to get to know you.

At the restaurant, Louis asked about your interests, your work, your life. He listened intently, genuinely interested in everything you had to say. It was a refreshing change from the superficial dates you’d had in the past. Louis didn’t seem like the type to act superior or dismissive. He was kind, respectful, and smart. On paper, he was perfect.

But midway through dinner, your phone buzzed again. You excused yourself, thinking it might be work, but it wasn’t.

When you’re done with your date, come over. I’m so bored at home. We could watch something. Unless you’re planning to go home with him, of course.

You stared at Kylian’s message, your irritation boiling over. Of course, he had to insert himself into your night. It was as if he couldn’t stand the idea of you spending time with someone else. You tried to remain composed in front of Louis, but inside, you were fuming.

Ignoring the text, you put your phone away and refocused on your date. Louis deserved your attention, not Kylian.

The night continued smoothly, and by the time you were back in Louis’ car, you felt a genuine connection. He walked you to your door, smiling softly as he said, “I had a really great time. Let’s do this again soon.”

“I'd love to,” you replied, your smile warm and sincere.

Louis leaned in, placing a soft, respectful kiss on your cheek before waving goodbye.

As soon as he drove off, the irritation you had buried earlier resurfaced. Kylian’s text was still on your mind, and you couldn’t let it go.

Impulsively, you called an Uber and headed to his place, convincing yourself that you needed to confront him. You told yourself that this was about setting boundaries, but deep down, you knew it was more than that. You always went back to him.

When Kylian opened the door, his expression was unreadable. He let you in without a word, his gaze following you as you walked past him.

“I thought you weren’t coming tonight,” he muttered, switching off the video game that had been paused on his TV.

“Where did that text come from?” you asked, standing near the couch, arms crossed.

“What do you mean?” He looked away, clearly avoiding the real issue.

“You know exactly what I mean. You made it sound like I go home with a different guy every week. What was that about?” Your voice was sharp, the frustration bubbling to the surface.

Kylian shifted, clearly uncomfortable. “I didn’t mean it like that—”

“Then how did you mean it?” you cut him off. “You can spend your weekends with dozens of women, but I can’t go out on one date?” You sat down on the couch.

He stayed silent, knowing you had a point but unsure how to respond. Instead of continuing the argument, he sat down next to you, his head hanging slightly.

That’s when you realized — tonight was the first time Kylian hadn’t told you how beautiful you looked. He always did, whether it was necessary or not. But tonight, not a word.

As if reading your thoughts, he finally mumbled, “You look beautiful, by the way.”

His voice was quiet, almost unsure. He looked like a scolded child, his arms crossed, his lips slightly pouting.

“Who did you go on a date with?” he finally asked, his curiosity winning out.

“Louis. The guy from the charity gala.”

Kylian sighed, nodding. “Didn’t you say you thought those guys were all pretentious?”

You shrugged. “Louis is different. I like him.”

Kylian didn’t say anything, and instead, he got up and walked to the kitchen. He returned with your favorite snacks and some cookies, his way of apologizing without words.

“What should we watch tonight?” he asked, changing the subject, setting the snacks on the coffee table.

You sighed, the weight of everything pressing down on you. “You pick. I’m going to change.”

As you made your way to his closet, you found the clothes you had left there. It was all so familiar, so normal, and yet so wrong. You hated how comfortable you were in his space, knowing it was never going to be more than friendship.

You had tried over the years to keep your distance from him, to prevent yourself from getting too close. But Kylian never allowed it. He always kept you close. No matter what phase of life either of you were going through, he made an extraordinary effort to stay in touch, to never let your friendship fade. He never stopped being your best friend.

After removing your makeup and changing into sweats, you began searching for the soft, fuzzy socks you were sure you’d left here. Your feet were freezing, and only those socks were warm enough to keep you comfortable.

You checked every drawer in his closet, but found nothing. Moving into his bedroom, you opened the first drawer — still nothing. When you got to the second one, you realized it held his personal belongings: old football posters, the laces from his childhood boots, and a pinky ring his grandfather had given him when he turned sixteen. As you were about to close the drawer, something colorful caught your eye. A folded piece of paper that you instantly recognized. Carefully, you took it out and opened it, feeling your heart skip a beat. You couldn’t believe he had kept it.

It was the birthday card you made for him almost 20 years ago, back when you first went to his celebration. The card was adorably imperfect, with “Happy Birthday Kylian” written in messy six year old handwriting, random hearts and butterflies scattered all over the paper. You had drawn a little boy and girl holding hands as the boy blew out birthday candles, a clumsy but heartfelt depiction of you and Kylian as children.

Holding it in your hands, memories flooded your mind. The card brought back so much; your childhood, the simplicity of your bond back then, and the way things had slowly become more complicated over the years. You hadn’t even realized it, but tears were streaming down your face. The fact that this card, something you’d forgotten about, had meant enough to him that he’d kept it for two decades, it overwhelmed you.

You carefully placed the card back, closing the drawer as if it held a piece of your heart. Then, you hurried to the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face, trying to compose yourself. As you stared at your tear-streaked reflection, the realization hit you like a truck: you loved him more than you ever dared to admit, even to yourself. It wasn’t just a fleeting crush or the remnants of childhood affection. It was deeper, more profound, so overwhelming that it felt like your entire life had been shaped around Kylian, every choice you made somehow tied to him.

That silly little birthday card, with its messy hearts and clumsy drawings, had brought a flood of memories you hadn’t even realized you still held onto. It was more than just a card, it was a symbol of the bond you’d shared since you were children, a bond you had always cherished but never truly understood until now. And the fact that Kylian had kept it, hidden away with his most treasured belongings, meant something. You knew it did. But what? Was it just nostalgia for him, a reminder of simpler times? Or did it mean more? Did it mean he held onto you the way you held onto him — silently, helplessly, and maybe, just maybe, as something more than a friend?

You splashed more cold water on your face, willing the tears to stop, but they kept falling, silently, stubbornly. The weight of your emotions was too much, and it took everything in you to steady your breathing, to stop the sobs that threatened to spill over.

The truth was hard to face: you had tried for so long to keep your distance, to protect yourself from the inevitable heartache of loving someone who could never love you back. But Kylian never let you. He always kept you close, drawing you back in whenever you tried to pull away, as if he couldn’t bear to lose you either. And that only made it harder.

You wiped your face with a towel, the cold water calming your heated skin, but inside, your heart still raced. You were coming to terms with something that terrified you. The feelings you had for him, they weren’t going away. In fact, they seemed to grow stronger every day, no matter how hard you tried to suppress them.

Falling for someone else? That was going to be a monumental task. It wasn’t just about liking someone new; it was about unlearning Kylian. Unlearning the way his laugh made you feel like everything would be okay, unlearning the way his touch sent shivers down your spine. Unlearning the years of memories that were tied to him. And honestly, the thought of letting go of Kylian felt impossible. It scared you. It scared you because no matter who came into your life, Kylian was still the one. How could you fall for someone else when your heart had already chosen?

With a deep breath, you finally calmed yourself enough to leave the bathroom. You couldn’t let Kylian see you like this, not when you didn’t even have an explanation for why you were crying. And definitely not when you weren’t ready to confront these feelings, let alone share them. But even as you composed yourself, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted inside you. Something irreversible. You couldn’t hide from your emotions anymore. You loved him, and it was destroying you.

As you walked back to the living room, you saw Kylian still lounging on the couch, casually flipping through the channels, completely unaware of the emotional storm you had just weathered in his bathroom. His easy, carefree nature contrasted so painfully with the heaviness in your heart.

You grabbed your things quickly, not wanting to linger in the space where your feelings felt too raw, too exposed.

“Hey, are you okay? What took so long?” he asked, his brows furrowing with concern.

“I’m sorry, Kylian,” you managed to say, your voice shaky. “I have to go.”

His expression immediately shifted from casual concern to confusion. “What? What happened?”

You shook your head, avoiding his gaze. “I just… I need to go home.” Kylian stood up, clearly not understanding what had changed so suddenly. He reached out, as if to stop you, but then hesitated.

“Y/N, did I do something? If I upset you earlier—” You quickly shook your head. “No, Kylian, it’s not that. You didn’t do anything. I just need to go.” You kept your gaze fixed on the floor, afraid that if you looked at him, the tears would start again.

He stood there, silent, as you hurried to the door, your heart racing with each step. You could feel his eyes on you, the weight of his concern hanging heavy in the air. But you couldn’t explain, not now. Not when you didn’t even know how to make sense of it all yourself.

As you left, he offered to give you a ride, but you declined. He walked you to the door, watching as you climbed into the Uber. His gaze didn’t leave you until the car turned the corner.

That night, as you lay in bed, wide awake, the weight of your love for Kylian pressed down on you. It was suffocating. And no matter how hard you tried to move on, no one else would ever be him.

You wished, more than anything, that next time Cupid aimed his arrow, he’d hit you both.

#kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian x reader #kylian mbappe fluff #kylian mbappe angst #kylian mbappe imagine #kylian imagines #kylian mbappe fanfic #kylian mbappe x you #kylian mbappe x y/n #football imagine #football player x reader #imagine #football fic

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emjiroki · 2 years ago

Text

Pool Boy Yuuta Okkotsu x Lonely Housewife Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Infidelity, exhibitionism (outside), Yuuta is the lonely housewife slayer fight me

A/N: I'm back babies with Pool boy Yuuta for the lovely Wet Hot Slimeball summer block party collab event! My prompt was 'Humid' so I hope I captured the theme and everyone enjoys! @bastardblvd (look at Yuuta holding the pool skimmer! Im pretty proud of my editing skills)

Collab Masterlist

likes, reblogs, and comments are much appreciated

‘God they need to do something about this global warming shit’ You thought as the sun beat down. It had been storming over the last week in Grimetown so the humidity was intense; thick like you were being compressed and forced to breathe the water evaporating from the ground. And with the storms came strong winds, knocking small branches and a whole heap of leaves into the once pristine blue water of your pool. You had made plans to clean it out…soon, maybe ask that big man that stole your package and stuffed that block party flier in your mailbox to fix it, had really planned to ask your husband to do it before he left for two weeks on a “business trip”. It would be comical to believe that these trips were for business at this point, your husband coming home one too many times smelling of perfume that wasn’t the scent you wore. Something cheap and cloying that set a stone in your stomach. But you liked your life, all your bills were paid and your husband still treated you like you were his world, why bother rocking the boat over some whore? He’ll get bored with her eventually and come crawling back, take you on some big vacation as a secret sorry and it’ll be done with.

So here you were lounging on one of your pool chaises trying and failing to read your book with your brain a frenzy of thoughts when you vaguely heard a knock on the gate. You pulled on the slipcover for your bikini and went to open the hefty latch to the privacy fence. The sudden heat to your skin wasn’t from the sun beating down or the suffocating humidity, but most certainly from the man in front of you with a pool skimmer propped up on his shoulder.

“I’m Yuuta Okkotsu from Grimetown Pool and Landscaping, sorry for the intrusion but I tried the front door and no one answered”. He seemed about your age, maybe a year or two younger, with sweet dark eyes and a handsomely cut jaw. Obviously fit under the company t-shirt that hugged his body. You bit your cheek slightly to try and keep your thoughts in check and not written across your face as you extended your hand to his to shake and introduced yourself.

“I’m guessing you’re the poor soul that they sent to come clean my disaster of pool?” You asked opening the gate a bit wider for him.

“That’s what was on my schedule for today ma’am,” He said with a sheepish smile as he fumbled to close the gate latch behind him and followed you over to the poolside.

“And in this humidity too? Yikes,” You empathized, taking a discarded magazine from the table and fanning yourself as he surveyed the mess.

“This will probably take a day or two to clean out and get balanced again,” Yuuta said with a determined look set on his face.

“Please, take all the time you need” You requested, pulling the slip from your bikini off, “I’m assuming the husband will just write a check for whatever”.

“R-Right, of course” He stammered, a rosy hue to his cheeks as he not so subtly looked you up and down. But he didn’t look away from your gaze when you made eye contact, going so far as to take a small step forward. You gave him a soft alluring smile before slipping your sunglasses on and lounging back in your chair.

“This humidity is a killer, let me know if you need anything” You commented as he pulled his phone from his pocket, assumedly to call his boss and tell them the plan.

“Oh I will, don’t worry,” He said with a lowkey promise in his tone that had you clenching.

♡

An hour or two passed as he pulled out branches and skimmed the pool, the humidity absolutely baring down and making the air thick. You were glad for the sunglasses because you couldn’t help but stare when he stripped off his shirt. Sweat ran down his neck to the dip in his collarbones before rolling down his chest and chiseled abdomen, your eyes tracing the wet path down as you unconsciously clenched your legs together. You reached for your drink and realized the glass was empty, the ice slowly melting at the bottom.

“Yuuta, would you like a drink? Take a break in the a/c for a minute?” You called over as you gather your stuff to head back inside away from this killer heat.

“Sure that would be great” He replied, pulling the skimmer from the water and setting it aside before quickly following you as you lead him in through the back door to the kitchen. The cool was a relief from the stagnant heat hovering around outside, Yuuta gratefully taking the towel you handed him and wiped his face and neck.

“Water? Lemonade?” You asked as you opened the refrigerator, pulling the pitcher out and refilling your own glass.

“Lemonade is great, thanks” He huffed as he sat back in one of the bar chairs, pushing his damp black hair back away from his face. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t ogle for a moment, quickly turning away when looked up at you and filled the glass you pulled down for him. He said thank you again as you handed it to him, watching as he took a few big gulps of the cold liquid, his Adam's apple bobbing as he drank greedily.

“You know Yuuta, I really wish my husband had a job like yours,” You commented, taking the seat next to him.

“Oh? And why’s that?” He asked, surprise in his tone but something curious and almost heated sparkling in his dark eyes. Damn, how could he be this pretty?

“Well, he’s always gone and I think the finance industry is making him dishonest” You admitted, casually messing with your discarded sunglasses on the island. The worst has already happened, at this point, you didn’t care about throwing yourself out there as you gently touched his fingers resting next to yours.

“I’d be dishonest too if I got a house like this and a wife like you” He commented, a rosy hue to his cheeks though he didn't pull his hand away when you expected him to.

“But the house is always so empty, it's lonely here… all by myself,” You said tracing one of your manicured nails up his hand to his forearm, goosebumps breaking across his skin, “He gives me everything I want but nothing that I need”. Yuuta turned slightly, leaning in close enough that a gasp escaped you, his dark eyes swimming with something you wanted to be devoured by.

“And what is it that you need?” He murmured, his lips close enough that you would only have to lean in an inch or two to feel them against yours, “Love? Good dick?”. It felt as if someone had lit a fire in your cheeks and it was rapidly traveling to the spot between your legs, your breath not filling your lungs anymore as his hand moved to your bare thigh. Your hands were shaking as you tried to take a drink from your glass, a small splash of lemonade running down your mouth to your chest. You squeaked out a soft moan when you felt his warm tongue against your skin, his mouth following the sour liquid down to the curve of your breast and sucking lightly in a soft kiss. Gripping his arms to keep yourself steady, he smiled up at you, that seemingly innocent shy boy smile from earlier. “Is that a yes?”.

♡

“Yuuta! Fuck!” You cried as he bottomed out inside of you for what seemed like the hundredth time today, you both barely able to get out of your bed this morning.

“You really never get tired do you?” He said with a chuckle, hissing as your walls squeezed around him, “Can’t even get my job done”. He’s right, hadn’t even gotten the chemicals ready for the pool before he was spread on the chaise lounge for you again, your thong bikini shredded by his eager hands and thrown somewhere in the yard. You were both slick with sweat from the heat, humidity ever present as you devoured each other for your neighbors on both sides to hear. His hands were rough against your ass as he squeezed and help you along to take his length, your hands on his sweaty chest as you bounced, spearing yourself on him again and again like you were possessed.

“You’re just… so good” You moaned as he pulled you down to press against him, nipping his teeth across your throat and thrusting up into you.

“Oh, you’re so good too beautiful, so fucking hot” He groaned, feeling your slick leaking out and running down to coat his balls in creamy white. He was so deep inside, carving out a place only his cock could satisfy, rutting into your soft walls like an animal. You couldn’t get enough as you moved your hips against his, his hand going up to wipe the drool from your lips as you fell apart.

“With a pussy like this I might just get obsessed,” He said his voice turning to a growl as you raised up again, his dark eyes seeming to grow darker as he watched your breasts bounce and the sweat rolling down your skin. “But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”. You nodded, groaning out a soft yes as the flames of your climax licked up your spine, your brain foggy with the heat and the pleasure buzzing through your bloodstream. If only your “husband” could see you right now, being ravaged into a puddle in this primal humidity.As if he heard your thoughts, your phone began to ring. You didn’t think to pick up, only looked when you saw Yuuta’s hand move. His hand wrapped around it, squeezing the volume button until it buzzed on silent, flipping it over. His arms wrapped around you and pulled you down to lay against his chest again, practically growling as he pressed your face to his throat and fucked so deep into you you could feel him battering your cervix. The sound that broke from your lips as you creamed around his cock was something you hadn’t heard before, breathy and wild.

“That’s right baby, cum on my cock as much as you want” He panted, his hands running soothingly up your back despite him still hammering into your sensitive pussy, “I’m your husband now, I’ll make him disappear and you'll be all mine won't you?”.

#yuuta okkotsu smut #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu #jjk smut #slimeball collab 💚#em writes ✍#em talks 👄

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