#not pictured here: the face i made with that last gif when he growled in the mic with his whole chest | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ramblingoak · 3 months

Text

To Tease a Cardinal

Cardinal Copia x f!reader

This was a direct result from art done by @ghuleh-recs here, @writingjourney here and @blacktie-whitenoise here. The expressions they gave Copia just made me think of how upset and wound up he'd be if you teased him while he was gone on tour. Thank you for the writing fuel guys!

Warnings: biting, hair pulling, fingering, cunnilingus, p in v sex, a little spanking, copia is kinda mean but also kinda sweet, nsfw 18+ only mdni, 3k words (thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers and @foxybouquet for your Italian guides!)

You had maybe gone a little too far.

“Is this what you wanted, demonietta?” He punctuated his question with a particularly vicious thrust and you bit down on the pillow to keep from wailing. You heard him clicking his tongue right before he gripped a handful of your hair to pull your head up. “Ah ah, I want to hear you. I want everyone to hear you.”

“Cardinal, I’m sorry–ah!”

There was no way the entire wing didn’t hear your scream right then. The bed banging against the wall could maybe have been explained away as something else but the desperate sounds now spilling from your mouth? It was clear what you and Cardinal Copia were up to. He released his grip on your hair but instead of letting you drop back down his arm wrapped around your middle so he could pull you against his chest.

“Sorry for what? For distracting your Cardinal? For teasing him day after day for weeks?” He growled the last word out before lowering his face to your neck. Your mouth fell open as he began to attack the sensitive skin there, nipping and biting at it. Leaving marks that would not be fading anytime soon. “Tell me how sorry you are.”

“I’m s-sorry for teasing you.” He bit down roughly and you jerked in his grip, trying desperately to get away. “Copia! Please…”

“No, no demonietta. Right now I am Cardinal.” Your breath caught in your throat when he adjusted his grip on you, a gloved hand now sliding down your front until he could rub across your clit roughly. “Now, why are you sorry? Be specific.”

“I-I’m sorry I sent you those pictures.”

Copia hummed into your ear, his fingers not slowing down at all. You couldn’t help but start to move your hips but a nip at your earlobe had you stopping. It was practically impossible to be still with his cock hot and throbbing inside of you and now the warm leather rubbing you just right.

“Ah sì, those pictures. The ones of you naked and wet in my bed.” He moved his hand away from your clit, sliding further down through your wet flesh to where you were stretched tight around him. “The ones where your fingers were buried deep inside of you. Are those the ones you are sorry for?”

“Y-yes, Cardinal.”

“Did it feel good to fuck yourself on them while you were alone in my bed?” You nodded, your sweaty cheek rubbing against his. “Tell me.”

“It did! It felt good.”

“Not as good as my cock though, eh demonietta?”

“No, never.”

“Of course not. Nothing will ever be as good as my cock, will it?” You shook your head frantically, your mouth falling open when he pressed against the edge of your stretched opening. When a finger threatened to push in alongside his cock you dropped a hand onto his, whimpering and pulling at it. “What’s wrong, ragazza?”

“Too much! It’s too much, Cardinal I can’t.”

“I think you can and I think you will.” To your relief he pulled his fingers away, moving them back to your clit to rub your wetness over it. “But you still have much to apologize for before I reward you like that, don’t you?”

“Yes, Cardinal.” He whispered a few encouraging words in your ear, biting your earlobe when he was done to spur you into answering. “I’m sorry I called you while you were performing.”

“But they were more than just phone calls, weren’t they? Hmm?”

Your head was spinning, the feel of his hot length inside of you and his fingers rubbing your clit just right was making it impossible to think. All you could focus on was him and how he was making you feel. How he always made you feel. Copia said something, his voice dark and commanding, but you couldn’t focus on his words. Your orgasm was fast approaching and you so desperately needed to come, you just needed a little bit more.

With a snarl Copia removed his fingers from your swollen clit and let go of the hold he had around your waist. Without him holding you up your shuddering body fell forward, his cock pulling out of you roughly when you hit the bed. You cried out at the loss, letting a sob out when your cunt spasmed around nothing. His hands grabbed at your shoulders to roughly turn you on your back and when you saw how twisted in anger his handsome face was you began to cry even more.

“C-Cardinal, please! Please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

Through your tears you saw him grin, a cruel smile that had you squeezing your eyes shut so you didn’t see it. Satanas, what you would do to take all of it back. How different would your reunion have been? Would you be getting sweet smiles and sweet touches instead of what you were getting now? You heard fabric rustle and then felt his mouth on your belly, his tongue dipping into your belly button before he kissed his way to your breasts.

“Why do you cry, demonietta? Shouldn’t you be happy you’re getting what you wanted? That you’re getting fucked by your Cardinal in his bed?” All you could do was nod, still unable to look at his handsome face. His mustache tickled the sensitive skin of your breasts while he kissed them. When you felt his teeth close around a nipple your eyes finally snapped to his and you were surprised to see a teasing look on his face briefly before he pulled off of it. “Well?”

“I-I’m scared.”

“Impaurito? Of me?”

You opened your mouth to answer him but his lips were back on your nipple, suckling at it and teasing it lightly with his tongue. Instead of the ‘Yes, I’m scared of you’ that you were going to say you let out a low moan. A sound full of so much yearning and desire it was embarrassing. Tentatively you moved your hands to his head, your shaking fingers slipping into his hair. The gray strands mixing in with the brown shone in the light of the lamps and like always you felt the urge to kiss every single one of them.

“I missed you, Cardinal. My Cardinal.” He grunted around your breast but didn’t stop giving it attention. As he continued to worship your flesh you felt gloved fingers move down your belly towards your still aching clit. You shimmied under him, your body begging for him to touch you there again. With a trembling voice you continued, practically babbling as you spoke again. “All I could think about was you, all I wanted was you.”

“And did you think I didn’t?” He had pulled off your nipple with a pop, his lips swollen and shining with saliva. The black paint on his top lip now smeared onto your skin. You tried to answer but he had finally started rubbing your clit again, warm leather easily sliding over your wet nub. “Did you think I wouldn’t rather be here with you? Fucking you and filling you over and over?”

“I-I oh yes, yes!”

He chuckled, dropping a nip on the inside of your breast before trailing kisses down towards where his fingers were. You kept one hand in his hair, lightly gripping it while you gripped his sheets with the other. By the time his hot breath brushed across your clit you were panting and shaking with anticipation.

“Did you think I wasn’t missing how you tasted on my tongue?” His fingers were gone then but his mouth immediately replaced them. Copia stroked across your nub with his tongue, applying just the right amount of pressure on each stroke. He groaned as your taste spread over his tongue, the fingers that had been rubbing you now drifting down to circle your still aching entrance. You began to squirm more, your legs trembling and kicking against the bed. “Stay still, demonietta. Can you do that?”

“Yes, Cardinal.”

He went back to sucking your clit but his eyes were looking up at you, the contact intense and searching. You couldn’t look away, enraptured by how his eyes rolled back as he continued to taste you. When two of his fingers easily slid inside your opening your own did the same, your head tilting back and your body arching up to meet both his mouth and fingers. You were waiting for him to stop and reprimand you but instead he laughed, the sound vibrating against your cunt.

“I suppose I should take it as a compliment, eh?” He started fucking you harder with his fingers, adding a third to spread you open wider. “That I make you lose control. Is that what it is? Do I make you forget yourself?”

“Always, my Cardinal.” You managed to look down, nearly crying when you saw the fond look on his face. His eyes fluttered while you scratched at his scalp, slowly moving your hand so you could cup his cheek. “I’m sorry about the voicemails.”

He let out a bark of laughter you couldn’t help but echo although it turned into a moan when the fingers inside of you curled to rub along your walls.

“I listened to those every night, demonietta.” He pulled your clit into his mouth, sucking hard before letting go. “Every night while I fucked my hand. Imagining it was your wet, needy cunt.”

“C-Copia…”

You winced when you used his name but he didn’t seem to have heard you, so focused on pumping his fingers in and out of you.

“Listening to your pretty voice moan my name, my title, over and over. È stato delizioso.”

“Copia!” You tried to grab his hair again but he shook your hand off, abruptly raising onto his knees and pulling his fingers out. “No! No, no please don’t, I nee-”

“Quiet.” His voice held that sharp, angry tone from earlier and you bit your lip to stop your begging. As you watched him with pleading eyes he lifted his hand to his mouth and began to suck your juices off of his gloves, the lewd sounds of it filling the air around you. Your legs moved on their own, spreading wider to try and entice him. His nostrils flared briefly before he pulled his fingers from his mouth and lowered them to grip your thighs. “What do you need?”

“You. It’s always you, I need you so much.”

“Do you want me to fuck you now, demonietta? Do you want my cock inside of your cunt?” He moved closer as he spoke, one hand moving from your leg to grip his cock. When the tip touched your entrance you cried out, your desire for him to be inside you making you feel crazy. The both of you let out desperate groans as he slowly pushed in. His thick cock felt perfect, stretching you still despite the work his fingers had done. Copia dropped his head, mumbled to himself in Italian as he pressed all the way inside. “Perfetto, sei perfetto.”

As he began to fuck you harder neither one of you was able to speak. Needy and loud moans echoed around you, his sometimes louder than yours. The both of you were desperate, your fingers gripping and digging into each other's flesh. You’d wear the bruises proudly just like you would the bite marks that were stinging as sweat ran across them.

You felt like crying when your peak began to rush towards you. Too soon, too soon, but it wasn’t surprising. Weeks of teasing him meant teasing yourself. And the second he had arrived back at the ministry he had dragged you to his quarters to teach you a lesson. A lesson that you seemed to have gone on for hours now. You honestly had no idea what time it was. All you could focus on was Copia and how much you had missed him.

And how good it felt to have him inside of you.

“Are you close, demonietta?”

You managed only a nod, your teeth buried in your bottom lip to try to stifle your cries. Copia pulled one of your legs up and pressed down on your thigh, spreading it wide so you opened up to him more. It let him change the angle of his thrusting and when his cock hit you even deeper you wailed, a piercing cry that had him laughing.

His thrusts were quickly becoming more frantic, a wild grunt leaving him at each thrust. Sweat and paint was dripping off his face and into your chest, painting you just like his cum would soon paint your insides. You scrabbled at the sheets when he brought a thumb down to your abused clit, roughly rubbing it but providing the final piece you needed for you to climax.

“Copia!”

You screamed his name like a prayer, over and over as your orgasm rushed through you. In return he said yours, his chest heaving as he panted through his own release. His hips were grinded against yours as his cock kicked and pulsed inside of you, filling you like he had promised. Finally with one last grunt he collapsed on top of you, quickly turning onto his back and taking you with him so you were cradled against his side.

Your hand settled over his tattoo, at first so you could feel his heart settle beneath your palm. But as he relaxed and his breathing slowed you found yourself tracing the lines of the numbers with your fingers. His skin was warm and moist with sweat, his chest hair damp and plastered to his skin. You couldn’t help but turn your head to kiss his skin, enjoying the tastes of his sweat on your lips. When your lips found his nipple it hardened quickly under your touch and you grinned against it.

“You are insatiable, what am I to do with you, hmm?” You turned your head to smile up at him, trying to look innocent but his devilish grin was hard not to copy. Copia looked a mess, his hair sticking all over and his paint mostly gone but he still was as handsome as ever. “Was I too rough with you?”

You shyly shook your head, hiding your smile now against his chest. He had been rough, his frustration over what you had done controlling his passions, but it was what you had expected. What you had secretly hoped for upon your reunion with him. You had wanted him to feel as out of control with love and lust as you did with him gone. You wanted him to be desperate for you, like you were the only thing he needed in this world.

“You were perfect, my love.”

He hummed, his chest vibrating under your ear slightly with the sound. You began to tease your fingers down his chest, running them through his hair. His stomach jumped when you traced around his belly button but he stayed quiet. It wasn’t until your hand wrapped around his soft cock that he spoke.

“What did I say? Insatiable.” He was still wet, his release mixing with yours along his shaft. As you began to stroke him, your touch light and teasing, he began to harden once more. Slowly of course, because even his intense lust had to contend with his age. It made no difference to you, you were patient. After all, working him up was something you had become very, very good at. You couldn’t help but laugh at that thought, laughing even when a hand gripped your hair to tilt your head up towards his own. “Is something funny, demonietta?”

There was an edge of hurt in his eyes so you shushed him, kissing your way back up his chest until you could reach his lips. You continued to tease his cock while you kissed him, enjoying the feel of it pulsing in your hand. The thought of having him inside you again made your sore cunt ache and you flung a leg across him so you could grind against his thick thigh. While growling low in his throat he deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue through your mouth before yanking your head away. He stayed silent, his mismatched eyes searching for an answer to his question.

“I wasn’t laughing at you, Cardinal.”

His tight grip on your hair lessened enough so you could reach his mouth again. You kissed him once, twice and a third time, your smile growing after each one. He didn’t let you give him a fourth kiss, instead you found yourself once more on your back, breathless and staring up at him.

“Tell me.” When you stayed quiet he lowered a knee between your legs, pressing it hard against your core. You mewled and began to squirm against it, desperate for friction but he placed a hand on your stomach and held you still. “Demonietta, you will tell me why you were laughing.”

“Or what, my Cardinal? Will you punish me some more?”

Copia smiled, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of mirth and love. He removed his hand from your stomach, pushing it up your chest slowly. You whined when he avoided your breasts and gasped when he let it rest on your neck very briefly before gripping your chin so you couldn’t look away.

“Tell me.”

“I was just thinking, my lovely Cardinal, that it was a good thing I never sent you any of the videos I made.”

The look on his face had you laughing again and you continued to laugh when he pulled away and roughly turned you onto your hands and knees. You even laughed when he swatted your ass, enjoying the sting far more than you should have. It wasn’t until he had entered you again, stretching and claiming you once more that your laughter turned into moans. Those turned into a yelp when he gripped your hair, turning your face roughly so he could glare down at you.

“Later. You will show me those later, sì?”

“Even better, my love.” He was pounding into you roughly, one hand remaining in your hair while the other was squeezing the mark he had left on your ass. You grinned up at him before continuing, your answer making him collapse against your back, trying and failing to stifle his laughter into your skin, “I’ll demonstrate.”

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you 💙

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

342 notes · View notes

leclercss · 8 months

Text

Paris, je t'aime (Charles Leclerc),

a Tainted Love sequel

Masterlist

plot: it's almost three years since your tumultuous relationships with Lewis and Charles came crashing down. but you find your self in a new city with new beginnings and new ways to fuck up your love life. that's no thanks to a cheeky frenchman who's set you up on a double date with someone oh so familiar.

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: (+18) mentions of smut, cheating and some swearing

authors note: our amours are back. hope you enjoy this sequel featuring our fave Monegasque.

word count: 4.3k

taglist: @toppersjeep @janeholt3, @princess-siba, @nichmeddar

"Pierre, I just don't get why you can't show me his picture?" you whine, throwing your head back against the sofa. Clearly you need to work on your negotiation (or blackmailing) skills because you've not made a dent in changing Pierre's mind.

"Because, [Y/N], I don't trust you this time. I've seen your love life, if you can even call it that, in the last six months. It's nothing short of embarrassing and from what I've witnessed, I know who the problem is," Pierre retorts.

You snort at Pierre's response. This man doesn't given a fuck and you do your best to not throw a cushion at his face.

"And what do you mean by that?"

"What I mean, [Y/N], is I've seen you make out with random guys in clubs, ugly ones by the way, who you either sleep with or have to spend the rest of the night hiding from. You're also useless when it comes to Tinder. You either fall in love with their pictures, match, have about a two minute conversation with and then ghost them entirely or you spend five minutes analysing everything that is wrong with them."

"That's no true," you growl.

It's Pierre's turn to snort. "Oh, it is! And if you do end up chatting to someone half normal, you just get drunk and show them pictures of your ex husband's dog".

This time you couldn't control yourself and so you launch the cushion at Pierre's head. Your aim clearly needs some work as you miss his head by about half a meter and hit the lamp above his head, causing it to hit against the wall.

"Right, you two! That's enough," you hear a voice yell from the other room. You look over your shoulder and see Pierre's girlfriend, Kika, storm into the living room.

"He started it," you cry out before shooting Pierre some daggers which earns a kick from Pierre.

"I don't care who started it. I care about ending it," Kika growls as she throws herself onto the sofa opposite then one you and Pierre are occupying.

Silence falls onto the living room but only for a few moments before you look at Pierre again, continuing your previous argument. "Pierre, I don't get why you can't just tell me anything about him".

Pierre, aware of the daggers he's receiving from Kika, simply rolls his eyes.

"Ugh, fine! Kika, can you please talk to Pierre?" you plead as you turn your attention to Kika.

She sighs at you, defeated. "I've tried, [Y/N]," she replies. "But Pierre has made some good points".

You narrow your eyes at her, "Traitor."

Pierre can't keep contain himself as he erupts into a fit of laughter. Annoyed, you return the kick that he gave you earlier which results in a loud cry from Pierre.

"Hey! We're the ones trying to help you out here," Pierre laughs as he rubs his shin, tender from your kick.

"I didn't ask for your help," you grunt, throwing you arms across your chest in frustration. You catch Kika in the corner of your eye trying to hold back a smirk.

"Spit it out, Kika!"

Both Pierre and Kika look at each other, exchanging a little chuckle, before you friend gives you a polite reality check.

"Well, we're in Paris, the city of love. And well, your love life since we've met you has been, putting it nicely, tragic. So Pierre and I thought that as your friends in this new city, we would take the trouble out of your hands for you when it comes to love," she politely tells you.

Pierre snorts again, "Nah, Kika. It's called an intervention".

You look around you to find any other cushions you can throw at Pierre but realise that you've thrown all cushions within reaching distance at his head already.

The truth is that, as hurtful as it may be, Pierre and Kika were right. Your love life since moving to Paris ten months ago has been pathetic. In fact, it's been pathetic for the last three years, ever since you had ended both your marriage to Lewis and your relationship with Charles.

Your intention at the time was to only end your relationship with one of them and in your heart and mind, you were going to end your marriage with Lewis. And that was what you did. Despite his last ditch attempts of rekindling your marriage and relationship, you had declined Lewis' offer to leave your life in London behind and join him in New York City.

An offer like that earlier on in your marriage would have been tempting but after yourself and Lewis both agreed to open up your marriage, and before all of the walls came tumbling down, you realised that whenever Lewis was close to losing you he would pull out all of the stops to become the husband you wanted and needed.

He'd done it throughout your relationship. Once Lewis smelt danger or felt vulnerable, he loved bombed you to the point where you fell in love with him all over again. Telling you everything you needed to hear and throwing you grand gestures like a proposal, a new puppy, extravagant gifts, monogamy (looking back, that one was laughable) and finally offering you a new life in the bright lights of New York City. And when he was sure that you wouldn't leave him and were fully committed, he'd go back to the Lewis of old - doing as he pleased without any questions or consequences. That was until Lewis pushed you too far, he'd tested you one too many times during your "open marriage" and pushed you into the arms of another man, Charles.

In a totally unplanned and spontaneous night out, you had met Charles and the two of you had clicked instantly. Charles was the only person that ever led you to doubt your marriage and relationship with Lewis. You developed a relationship which led to you falling in love with one another. It was very real and very serious. He gave you the love and fulfilment you had long yearned for. He was worth leaving your husband for and you were so ready to do that.

That was until Lewis' offer of moving to New York came about. You didn't want to move to New York. It may have been a dream once but not in those circumstances. Not after you'd already taken off your wedding and engagement rings and told your husband you were ready to move on in your life. This was Lewis' next step in life, not yours.

You were free from your marriage and you could continue your relationship with Charles but something weird happened. It all fell apart one night when you went to see Charles at his flat after you had told Lewis that you wouldn't be moving with him. Your intentions were to tell Charles that you were all his and you could finally start to build a real life together.

However, that’s not what happened. You couldn’t get the idea of leaving London with Lewis out of your head. Even in separation the man couldn’t leave you alone. He was in your mind as you spoke to Charles, kissed Charles and even when you made love to Charles that night. Something deep down was telling you that instantly starting a life with Charles just days after separating from your husband of five years wasn’t the right thing for you.

You needed time to mourn your marriage but also to figure out who you really were. You had been in a relationship since you had moved to London at 21 and had never gotten to explore adulthood and your twenties on your own. And just maybe, you needed a little bit of time to be you.

But that’s not how it went down, or how you had tried to communicate it to Charles. After you and Charles had finished having sex, Charles started a conversation about your relationship and mentioned the possibility of moving in together. You guys were in love and it made sense.

But you freaked out, confessing to Charles that Lewis was going to New York and had asked for you to go with him. And when Charles had asked you want you had wanted to do, you froze.

Fuck, why did you have to freeze? You already told Lewis no but why couldn’t you tell Charles that?

You realised over time it was because that you were unable to tell Charles that while you had said no to Lewis, you needed to be on your own for a while. And how could you tell Charles that after he had made love to you and confessed his loved to you once more?

And so when you struggled to find your words, Charles took it as a yes and that in fact you were moving to New York, leaving him behind. You were ending things with him to be with a husband who treated you poorly.

And when you did begin to find your words, Charles didn’t believe you despite the fact that you had already removing your wedding ring. He was fed up. He’d been humiliated by you and Lewis to one too many times and so he asked for you to leave.

You obeyed and left his apartment. Too hurt and stubborn to speak to one another, you both waited for the other to reach out. A text, a call, something to let the other know that this was stupid and you wanted to be together. But that text, call or something never came. And so you and Charles never spoke again.

Not long after you and Charles ended things, a position in work opened up in Singapore. With nothing meaningful thing you to London any more aside from your best friend Whitney, you applied for it. You were successful and so within a few moments you moved to Singapore for two years.

You finally got your new life and spent the last of your twenties in an amazing city. You even had a few casual, no strings attached situationships. But as you turned 30, you began to miss being closer to home and so you moved back to Europe, this time settling in Paris.

You enjoyed the city and while Paris was famed for being romantic and the city of love, your experience so far had been anything but. Which is why you were here now, letting your new friends Pierre and Kika salvage whatever love life they could manage for you.

You had grown close to them over the past few months. You had met Kika in work and over time she took you under her wing. You hadn’t told Pierre and Kika everything though about your life in London. They knew you were divorced from Lewis and that you had an open marriage got wrong but you had never told them about Charles. How could you even begin to explain that you had fallen in love with someone that wasn’t your husband and then, when you finally had the chance to be with him, you chickened?

No, you couldn’t tell them about Charles. It still hurt you when you thought about how things ended between you. With a heavy heart, you still valued your relationship with him and looked back with fond memories. Charles was still very special and important to you. And so, that was one story you wanted to keep close to your heart.

“Can you just give me a name? Not even a name, just the first letter of his name?”

You were back to whining at Pierre and Kika, begging for any details about this mystery guy that they’d set you up on a blind date with. So far, the only details you had gotten out of them was that you were going out with a guy this Friday night.

As Kika went to open her mouth, feeling a little sorry for you, Pierre flashed her a look.

“Kika, don’t! I know what you girls are like. One sniff of a detail about a man and you girls give the FBI a run of their money, Pierre cried. “No, you’re just going to have to shut up and wait until Friday to meet him”.

Finally accepting defeat, you sighed and rested back against the sofa. Pierre wasn’t giving in this time. With last fight in you, you looked over at Pierre and mumbled,

“Did I ever tell you how much I hated you, Pierre?”

“Yes, everyday”.

It was finally Friday and you still didn’t have a single detail or idea about the man you were meeting for dinner. For all you knew, he could be Timothée Chalamet. Pierre and Kika had given you nothing.

Despite withholding all information about this guy, the did feel bad for you and so had brought you out for a drink before you date to calm the nerves. Just one drink, Pierre had said, they didn’t need you showing pictures of Roscoe to another innocent soul.

As you sat in a Parisian bar, you began to bounce your legs up and down, anything to calm you while you waited for 8pm to arrive. With a quick look at your phone, you saw that it was only 6:30pm.

Shit!

You were going to need more than one drink if you were going to get through the next ninety minutes. You were halfway through your first Aperol Spritz but you’d need about two more if you were going to be any fun tonight.

“Can you stop bouncing your legs please? It’s incredibly annoying,” Pierre spat.

Kika, being the peace maker gently placed a hand on your knee to prevent you from causing any annoyance or, in the way Pierre was carrying on, preventing you from causing an earthquake.

You loved Pierre, but the two of you behaved like siblings much to Kika’s despair. The two of you constantly bickered and found ways to annoy one another but did deep the two of you were close and had a solid friendship.

“Children, please,” Kika groaned. As she took a quick look at her phone, you took the opportunity to flash Pierre the middle finger.

Another fifteen minutes had passed and you weren’t any less nervous about this date. While you had been on dates before, it was your first blind date. And while you had faith in Pierre and Kika’s taste, you wouldn’t put it past Pierre to drag Quasimodo down from the Notre Dame and bring him to a Parisian restaurant for your date.

Feeling bad that he’d been taunting you for days, Pierre felt like it was time to give you some reassurance.

“I don’t know why you’re so worried, [Y/N]. Despite being a pain in my side, you’re catch. You’re a good looking girl. You’re funny and smart. You’ve lived in four countries, I mean there’s so much to talk about,” Pierre says as he places a second Aperol Spritz in front of you.

You flash him a grateful smile.

“He’s right! You’ve got so much going for you, [Y/N]. Plus your boobs look great in that dress,” Kika added. “And he already things you’re hot”.

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head. “Wait, what? He’s already seen a picture of me”.

Pierre flashes Kika a look of what the fuck did you say that before accepting a small defeat.

“Yes, he’s seen a picture of you. And before you tell me how that’s not fair, he’s not a freak like you two”.

“But Pierre,” you begin but Pierre wags his finger out you.

“No. I’m not hearing it,” Pierre says.

Great, out of the four of you, you’re the most clueless about your date.

“Fine, if you won’t tell me anything about him, can you at least tell me what he said when you showed him a picture about me?”

Exhaling, Pierre nodded. “Sure, he pretty much grabbed my phone out of my hand when I showed him your picture. He seemed pretty into it, wanted to see more photos. Asked how we knew you, wanted to know as much about you as he could.”

“Oh, and you told him everything right?”

Pierre chuckled. “Not everything. Didn’t tell him that you were divorced by 30. I thought that it’d be funny for you to do that on your own”.

You thanked Kika as she hit Pierre for you.

“Sorry. That was harsh. He was interested in what happened in your last relationship though. If it’s any consolation, I’ve had to intervene in his love life too. It’s almost as tragic as yours,” Pierre continued.

You frowned at him. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well,” Pierre hesitated. “He was in a relationship about three years ago. Things were pretty serious but suddenly things changed. There were talking about moving in together but one day, she told him she was thinking about getting back with her ex. They had an argument and didn’t speak after that. The last he heard through a friend was that she had left the country to start a new life.”

A weird feeling of deja vu suddenly hits you. The story sounding very similar to your own. Except that you didn’t get with Lewis. You pause before asking, “Did she get back with the ex?”

“I think so,” Pierre answered. “Either that or she was a snake who used her ex as an excuse to end things with Charles”.

You feel your blood run cold as Pierre accidentally drops the name of your date.

“What did you say his name was?” you ask, making sure you’re not hearing things.

“Merde, I can’t believe I dropped his name at the last hurdle,” Pierre groaned, burying his head in his hands.

You mind was racing a million miles an hour. Surely this was just a coincidence. There was thousands of Charles' in Paris, let alone in France. And what were the odds of Pierre knowing your Charles? And a Charles who had the same break up story as your Charles? No, this couldn’t be it.

“Are you okay, [Y/N]? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Kika asks.

You force a light-hearted laugh before taking a sip of your Aperol Spritz.

“I’m all good, thanks. Just worried that Pierre is going to go into a downward spiral now that his plan of keeping this Charles a secret has failed,” you joked. But deep inside you were freaking out.

What if this was Charles? You weren’t sure if you were ready to see him. Even though it had been three years since things had ended, it still hurt you to think about your relationship. Even three years later, you knew you still loved him. But what about Charles? Did he still love you? Or did he hate you? According to Pierre’s story, he still seemed bitter about this break up with his ex.

“It’s a good thing you don’t have time to go through Instagram and find him then, you’ve got to leave for your date in fifteen minutes,” Pierre reminds you.

Shit.

This was really happening wasn’t it? You were going to see Charles finally after all these years.

Or maybe you were just being dramatic, maybe this was just a weird, fucked up coincidence.

“Whatever you do, [Y/N], just don’t break my Charlie’s heart, eh? He’s had to fuck his way through dozens of women just to get over her,” Pierre teases.

“Pierre,” Kika squeals, “You can’t tell her that before she meets him”.

But Pierre’s comment goes over your head. Charles’ fucking lots of girls was the least of your worries.

You’re the first one to arrive and the wait is excruciating. You have a look at your phone 8:03pm.

Fuck, it’s been the longest three minutes of your life.

You’re not sure if you want to look at the entrance and see who walks through the door or if you want to keep your head down and pray for the ground to swallow you whole. Right now, the second option feels preferable.

As another minute passes, your phone lights up. It’s a text from Pierre into your group chat with Kika:

Bonne chance! And if we don’t hear back from you by the end of the night, either my friend is a serial killer or you’re 🍆👉🏼🕳️💦

As disgusting as Pierre’s text is, you’re grateful that your mind is occupied for a few moments as you text a:

You’re disgusting 🤮

Once you send your text, you place your phone back down on the table and put your head in your hands, praying for a miracle.

“I’ve thought about what it would be like if I ever saw you again,” it’s a familiar voice coming from behind you, “But I’d never have guessed that it would be the two of us being set up on a blind date”.

Your head shoots up and you turn to the direction of the voice. It’s him. It’s Charles. Your Charles.

“I…,” you begin but that’s all you’ve got. You’re just sitting there with your mouth agape.

Charles smiles at you, he’s much more composed and prepared than you are. How could he not be when he knew long ago that it was you that Pierre was trying to set him up with? He’s probably had days if not weeks to prepare for seeing you in person again.

He takes a few steps towards you before taking your hand in his. Just like the last time, he takes your left one, moving it towards him. He smiles at your hand.

No rings this time around, he thinks to himself before placing a delicate kiss onto your skin.

You feel your cheeks redden at his touch and whatever feelings you’ve harboured for him over the last three years all come rushing back. His touch still feels the same, delicate but purposeful.

He gently lets go of your hand before taking the seat opposite you. You’re still shell shocked that he’s actually here, which is why you can only muster up a, “Hi.”

Charles laughs to himself a little.

“Hi, [Y/N]”.

It falls silent between the two of you. Charles gives you the space to figure out what the fuck is going on while he flicks through the menu for a drink.

You take the opportunity to take in his appearance. He looks good, if not better than the last time. His face is slightly more mature and he’s let his moustache and stubble grow a little longer this time. He’s a little bulkier, clearly he’s been lifting more weights in the gym. His hair looks the same, long and silky. And he’s sporting a tan thanks to the French summer. He dresses better than he did before.

Charles smiles as he’s reading the menu, clearly aware that your eyes are fixated on him, glancing over every inch of his body that you can see. He looks up from the menu and looks at you, still smiling. He’s confident in himself, he knows he’s in control and he seems to be enjoying it.

Embarrassed that you’ve been caught staring, you clear throat and decide to speak your first words of the date.

“Ho-How are you? You look good,” you manage to squeak out.

Fuck, that was embarrassing. Is that it?

Charles chuckles to himself once more before it’s his turn to eye you up. His eyes take in your loose curls that are falling delicately over your shoulders. Your face looks the same, no difference to the last time he saw you. Still so beautiful. You’re rocking a summer tan too. And as for your body, well your breasts look incredible in that peach fitted dress. You didn’t look good, you looked phenomenal.

“I’m good. And you? You’re looking good too but I’m not surprised,” Charles replies.

You blush a little at his comment. “Yeah, I’m fine”.

Taking one last look at the menu, Charles closes it before looking at you. Giving you his full attention.

“How long ago did you find out that it was me you were going on a date with?”

“Erm, about- about thirty minutes ago,” you stutter.

Charles shakes his head. “Fucking Pierre,” he mutters to himself.

“How- how long ago did you know it was me?” you ask ever so quietly.

“About three weeks ago,” he watches for your reaction before continuing, “Look, I don’t want to do this here. And I’m sure you don’t want to do this here either. Let’s go back to my place”.

Without even thinking, you nod. And as Charles stands up from his chair, he puts his hand out for you to hold. His touch is so warm. He smiles at you softly before leading you out of the restaurant into the warm Summer evening.

He’s still holding your hand as he waves down a taxi. As you climb inside, Charles’ hand finds his way to your thigh as he gives his address to the taxi driver.

You can’t help but look at his hand on your thigh. It all feels so surreal. He’s being so nice to you after everything that happened and he’s going against everything that Pierre had said about Charles being hurt by an ex. But maybe Charles had changed, maybe he didn’t hate you that much after how things ended between the two of you.

As your drive through the Parisian streets, Charles’ hand remains on you thigh. And it’s Charles who breaks the silence between you.

“How was New York?”

Your head immediately turns towards him. His expression impossible to read. Confused, you answer him.

“Charles, I never went to New York”.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you

523 notes · View notes

eringobragh420 · 27 days

Text

GOOD FORM - REQ. - DAMIAN PRIEST x f!READER

Pairing: Damian Priest x f!Reader Summary: Damian’s girlfriend loves teasing him, and sometimes she loves the punishment for teasing him, but this punishment? Warnings: NSFW, obviously, lol. Spanish translations are at the end of the story. I do not speak Spanish, so if anything is incorrect, please let me know and I'll fix it! [thigh riding, spanking, sex, cum] Taglist: @eddiesrockstargirlfriend If you'd like to be added, please let me know! Requested By: @rripleyfan. Hope you enjoy!

“Papi, please,” she whines, “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Sure you can,” Damian replies, though it seems he’s paying more attention to his phone than his writhing girlfriend. In fact, both her hands are planted on his pectoral muscles, and she’d give up her first born if he’d just take the damn thing off, but both his arms are bent in front of her, the phone between his hands blocking at least some of her from his view. “I think this one might be my favorite.” He turns the phone so she can see the picture he’s referring to.

It’s the one she sent him a few days ago. She’s wearing one of his shirts in the photo, one he’d cut the sleeves and most of the sides out of. The shirt is bunched in the middle of her chest, her breasts poking out through the huge sleeve holes. She’s on her knees in front of a full length mirror, phone in her hand and in front of her face.

“So sexy,” Damian comments, turning the screen back toward himself.

“Papi,” she breathes, reminding him of the her that’s here now and the precarious situation she’s in. A position she’ll never admit she got herself into, maybe on purpose. “Please? I swear I’ll never do it again if you just let me cum.”

“Oh, we both know that’s not true,” her boyfriend replies. He sets the phone down on the table beside them. “Don’t we?” She chooses not to answer, instead continuing to roll her hips in the most torturous rhythm, bare, drenched pussy benefiting from the friction, but it’s not near enough. “Don’t we?” Damian firmly repeats his question.

“Yes,” she rasps, hands fisting his shirt. Her eyes roll back and her head lolls, tiny bolts of electricity originating from between her legs launch themselves throughout her body and she shudders.

“Because you like it, don’t you? Faster.” She almost misses the command, and wishes she had, but she picks up the pace regardless. “You like when I open those pictures when I’m around other people … isn’t that right?”

“Yes.”

“Open your eyes. Look at me.”

Obeying, her eyes fall on the man under her. Damian Priest. His hair is pulled back, beard immaculate, dressed in a simple black t-shirt, black jeans. She’s made his shirt tighter by clenching it in her hands, consequently outlining every muscle in his broad chest. She gasps, jaw dropping, because sometimes he does that to her just by being beautiful. Christ, she’s not gonna last.

“Now look at you,” he growls, nodding toward the mirror on the wall.

She turns her head, unprepared for what she sees. Damian, in all his hugeness and black wardrobe is a stark contrast to the much smaller, completely nude, woman set atop his right thigh, rutting against his jeans like a horny teenager. His dominance, and the difference in sizes, and Damian’s sexy … everything … is more than enough to shove her right over the edge. She doesn’t mean to fall, but she falls just the same, eyes closing, trembling as the orgasm washes over her. She breathes an obscenity, maybe even her boyfriend’s name, she’s not sure. Afraid to open her eyes, her hips come to a slow stop, pussy still contracting, and her hands release Damian’s shirt. She waits for him to speak, but hears nothing. Waits for him to touch her, but there’s no movement. Not knowing and knowing the expression he’s wearing are equally terrifying, but the not knowing is killing her, and so her lids slowly rise.

Damian is glaring, he’s fucking glaring, like she’s Dominik Mysterio or something, and she knows he’s trying to be imposing, but the man is never not sexy. So while (more) punishment is certainly in order, there’s a small part of her that’s looking forward to it. However, under the weight of Damian’s angry eyes, she begins to curl in on herself, one thigh rising at an attempt to close her legs.

“Over my knees now,” Damian grumbles.

Slowly she stands, still hyper aware of her nakedness, especially when her boyfriend’s dark eyes follow her every move. She hesitates only a moment, but it’s enough for Damian to tilt his head, daring her to resist further. The wet spot she’s left on his black jeans is impressive, as is the small pool of her cum, some of which sticks to her still sodden pussy. Damian licks his lips, shaking his head, and he sits up in the chair, curling his fingers. Though reluctant, she moves with purpose as she crawls across Damian’s thighs this time. She feels the wet spot on her skin as she lies down, careful not to crush her breasts between his leg and her chest.

Damian’s rough palm glides over her soft, bouncy ass cheeks, and she holds her breath as she waits for the blows to come. “Count ‘em out,” he orders before the first slap echoes throughout the room. Her body jerks and she has to readjust her position to keep from crashing to the floor.

“One,” she says. Smack. “Two.”

The spanks become increasingly more painful as she counts higher and higher. She's squirming now, much the same as when he wouldn't let her cum, hands clawing at his jeans.

“En español,” Damian interrupts. She takes a few moments to answer because suddenly she's forgotten what number she's on. By the time she opens her mouth to reply, Damian says, “Let's start again. En español.”

She gets the numbers right this time, without hesitation, but her ass is still raw and she's on the verge of tears when she finally reaches diez. Damian’s arms are around her suddenly and he's standing and she's in the air. He deposits her on the bed, positioning her onto her hands and knees, and she hears the familiar sound of a belt being unbuckled. Completely at his mercy, she feels him slowly enter her from behind, hands gripping her sore ass cheeks to remind her that this isn't about her pleasure. Although she would argue that fact the minute he slips inside her pussy.

“Fuck,” Damian sighs, easily settling into a rhythm that has the bed knocking against the wall. She fists the blankets and presses her knees into the mattress to keep from shifting forward. Damian’s belt buckle digs into her skin because he hasn't bothered to disrobe. “Count ‘em again.”

“No!” she hollers, finishing with a squeak when the man behind her slaps an already sensitive ass cheek. She collapses, chest and face bouncing on the mattress.

“Qué?” Damian replies. He wraps her hair around his fist and pulls her back up onto her hands. She whines, biting her lip, bucking her hips with each of his thrusts, dripping cunt clenching around his cock.

“I said, in English or Spanish?” she corrects breathlessly.

“Eso es lo que pensé,” Damian mumbles. “En español.” He emphasizes with a spank.

“Uno,” she starts at the beginning, learning her lesson from last time.

Damian doesn’t make it to ten before he explodes inside of her. She waits patiently for him to finish planting his seed, satisfied smirk on her lips. He eventually pulls out, and she collapses onto the cloud-like comforter. Damian crawls next to her on his side, and she turns her head to face him.

“My ass hurts,” she whines, giggling.

Damian grins. He traces the tips of his fingers along the warm, pink skin, her muscles twitching from the sensitivity, and Damian nods fondly as her ass jiggles. She loves how it tickles her nerves, calming the angry ones from the spanking. “Well, your ass asked for it,” he says.

“But you liked the pictures!”

“Of course I did. I don’t like when I can’t just come home and teach you a lesson. I had to do a show, take a flight, deal with a layover, another flight, and a drive home. My dick could have fallen off!”

She rolls her eyes. “How do you say dramatic in Spanish?”

Damian growls, jaw muscles clenching. He grabs the back of her neck and their lips collide, and they both know she’ll do it again. It’s only a matter of time.

** Papi - Daddy ** En español - In Spanish ** Diez - ten ** Qué - What ** Eso es lo que pensé - That’s what I thought ** Uno - One

#wwe #wwe fanfiction #wwe imagine #damian priest x reader #wwe x reader #damian priest #damian priest smut #smut

227 notes · View notes

gloomwitchwrites · 1 month

Note

Their bachelor party.. what kind of shenanigans are they getting in to?!

Hehe. Anon, I bow down to you. I had so much fun with this prompt. I was able to be super creative and silly with it. Really, I had a freaking blast with this. I also spent an insane amount of time researching stag night / stag parties / stag dos. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed putting it togther!

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, drunken shenanigans

Word Count: 800

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“When you said ‘stag do’ I didn’t think…this.” Soap gestures vaguely.

“What were you expecting, Johnny? Strippers? A lap dance?” mocks Simon, keeping his gaze forward.

“You plan on giving me one, Lt?” asks Johnny with a devilish grin.

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you, Johnny?” replies Simon, downing the rest of his beer.

“Don’t know what you’re on about, Soap,” says Kyle from somewhere in the back. “Captain made a damn good choice. When are you ever gonna do this again?”

“It is my day,” says Price, settling back into his seat. “And this is what I want to do.”

Kyle drops off a fresh beer for Simon and clasps Johnny’s shoulder. “We’re at a sold-out football match in a box suite.” He gestures behind him. “There’s a buffet and beer on tap. More than the four of us could eat or drink. Fucking glorious, mate.” Kyle brings his beer to his lips, and sighs once he’s taken a long gulp.

“What about tonight, Captain?” asks Johnny. “We drinking?”

Price nods. “With some of the bride’s family actually.”

Kyle leans forward. “I got us all matching outfits.”

“I’m not wearing shit,” says Price over his shoulder.

“He is,” whispers Kyle.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Holy fucking hell, Kyle. You did good!” Soap slides on his sunglasses and places his hands on his hips. “This place is fucking paradise.”

“Get in the shade, Johnny. You’re gonna burn,” says Simon, sipping on his piña colada.

With a grin on his face, Johnny stalks over and plucks the tiny pink umbrella out of Simon’s drink. He sucks on the end of the stick.

“I need someone to get my back. You up for it, Lt?”

Simon gives Soap a blank stare as he finishes the last of his drink. Kyle starts to laugh, leaning back in his beach chair.

“What the fuck are we in right now, Johnny?” asks Simon.

Johnny glances around and shrugs.

“A cabana.”

“Oh, aye. When we were on that mission—”

“Fucking hell,” mutters Simon. “I’m getting another drink.”

“Grab me something with tequila in it,” says Kyle.

“Who’s putting sunscreen on my back?”

“Have the groom do it,” growls Simon as heads for the bar.

Johnny shrugs and turns toward Kyle, the end of the pink umbrella still in his mouth. “Bit hairy back there.”

Kyle shakes his head and cups his mouth with both hands. “Price! Come get your sergeant!”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“Fucking look at us.” Johnny grins and turns around to face Price, Kyle, and Simon. “We ready to go?”

“You’re not fucking wearing that. And I’m not wearing this.” Simon takes off his hat and gestures at Johnny with it. “We look insane.”

“What? This?” Johnny glances down at his outfit. It’s a Pikachu onesie. Hood included. “Pretty fucking comfortable.”

Price, Simon, and Kyle are all dressed up like Ash Ketchum. Even the hats have the correct logo.

“We look fucking ridiculous,” grumbles Price, fidgeting with his jacket.

“I think we look pretty smashing actually,” shrugs Kyle.

“Didn’t you watch Pokémon growing up?” asks Johnny. “We sure did.” He drapes his arm over Kyle’s shoulder.

Simon stares blankly, arms crossed over his chest. “There better not be pictures. I don’t want to find myself on the fucking internet in this.”

“Or shown at work,” mumbles Price.

Johnny lightly punches Simon shoulder. “You look good, Lt.”

“If it helps,” interrupts Kyle. “We can fill these with alcohol.” He holds up one of the plastic pokeballs that he, Price, and Simon have clipped to their belts.

“Thank fucking hell,” sighs Price. “I’m in.”

“Simon?” asks Johnny.

Simon rolls his eyes. “Hells. Fine.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“Lads! Lads! Lads! Lads!”

Kyle and Johnny chant manically as Simon chugs his beer. It takes a few meager seconds and then they yell fiercely, beating their chests before grabbing Simon’s shoulders and shaking him. Simon wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Another!”

Kyle grabs Simon’s empty glass and heads to the bar to order another round. Johnny breaks out into song. It’s in Scots. He’s loud and off-key.

“Speak English,” laughs Simon.

Price crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in the booth, resting his head on the top. His eyelids shut.

Soap switches over to English but it lasts for only a few lines. He switches between the two, even tossing in a bit of Gaelic. Simon doesn’t understand any of it.

Kyle comes back with another round. Price opens one eye and groans. “Can’t. Heartburn.”

As soon as the words leave Price’s mouth, Johnny snags Price’s beer and downs it before picking up his own and consuming that.

“Fucking hell,” mutters Price. “I won’t be dragging your ass home. Any of you.”

Simon and Kyle clink glasses as down half of theirs.

Johnny grins. “We’ve got three more pubs to go, Captain.”

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@enarien @saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

@ravenpoe67 @tulipsun-flower @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat @ninman82

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@haven-1307 @voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @spicyspicyliving @keiva1000

@littlemisscriesherselftosleep @greeniegreengreen @umno-yeah @blackhawkfanatic @talooolaaloolla

@sadlonelybagel @kadeeesworld @iloveslasher @sammysinger04 @dakotakazansky

@suhmie @jaggersinclair @jackrabbitem @lxblm @beebeechaos

@no-oneelsebutnsu @kidd3ath @certainlygay @thewulf @lovely-ateez

@whisperwispxx @gingergirl06 @eternallyvenus @smileykiddie08 @arrozyfrijoles23

275 notes · View notes

lucidlivi · 1 year

Text

Never Been You

Requested: @hzllxhoundxx

Everything Tag List: @jc-winchester @mrsjenniferwinchester @perpetualabsurdity @antisocialcorrupt @heavenlyackles @anixiiee @jackles010378 @suckitands33 @deans-spinster-witch @k-slla @alternativeprincess @spnbaby-67 (if you'd like added to my everything tag list, please indicate by saying "please tag me in everything Jensen/Dean")

Warnings: Angst, Demon Dean, Kidnapping, Violence, Mature Themes, Demon Dean Being an Absolute Dick

Following S10 E2, S10 E3 (of course with my twist!)

I got carried away so this is a hella long one for you guys!

"you need to get to Beulah North Dakota now!" I rushed out to Castiel who was on the other end of the phone call.

"I do?"

"yes, Crowley and Dean were there, we have to pick up their trail."

I looked over to see Sam in the truck hunched over in pain.

"good, great."

I felt the emotions wash over me for what felt like the thousandth time since seeing the footage of Dean, our Dean, sporting black eyes. Castiel has no idea.

"Not exactly, Cas, Dean's a Demon." I said feeling the unshed tears slip from my eyes.

"Dean's a Demon? How?"

"It's the mark Cas, it messed him up, I don't know." I cried.

"that's a vast understatement." Castiel grumbled.

"look Cas, I know you're not feeling so hot right now, but I need you, it’s sort of an all hands on deck situation, so…"

"so I'll be there."

I hopped back in the truck I had rescued Sam in and continued to drive to North Dakota. I played through every scenario in mind of how this could go, and none of them ended well.

I needed to find Dean, I needed to help him.

"I got a lead, disturbance at a night club, a rowdy patron beat a security guard senseless. It sounds like a demon thing to do." Sam said looking at his phone.

"I guess let's check it out then."

It was still daytime when we were pulling up to the strip club.

Of course Dean would end up here.

"think that's the guy?" I asked Sam, looking at a muscular security guard who was wearing a sling identical to Sam's and had two black eyes.

"I would say it's a safe bet."

I stopped the truck hopping out, followed by Sam.

"excuse me sir, is this the guy who attacked you last night?" Sam asked straight forward, showing a picture of Dean.

"that's the guy, I called 911 but he was gone before they showed up."

Damn.

I didn't expect him to still be here, but it felt like a blow to the gut to actually hear it.

"that dude get to you too?" He asked Sam referencing his sling.

"uh no, this uh is just a hunting accident." Sam responded.

"would you do us a favor, if this guy shows back up, please give us a call." I said producing a fake FBI business card with my number on it.

"you bet."

"thanks."

I ran a hand through my hair with a huff before getting back in the truck.

"what now?" I asked, feeling the tears prick at my eyes again.

I couldn't bare the thought of Dean actually being a demon.

"I don't know." Sam said in defeat.

I drove the truck to a nearby motel, renting us a room. Sam had been through hell, he needed to rest. I helped him lay down on the bed, noticing his eyes get instantly heavy.

"I'll be right back, I'm just going to get something out of the truck." I told him, rushing outside.

As soon as I stepped outside, I heard a voice that made my blood boil with anger.

"hello there love."

I turned around to see Crowley with a smirk on his face.

"did ya miss me?"

I huffed in anger, reaching behind me to pull a blade from my belt loop.

"oh so much." I growled.

"easy now, I know you're here for Dean, and I'm here to give him to you."

Is this a trick?

I could never truly trust Crowley.

"I don't understand."

"you see he's bad for business, he's.. he's become uncontrollable, must be the mark.." Crowley trails off with a smirk.

"anywho Dean's your problem now, again, forever." Crowley added.

"then where the hell is he?" I snapped, not being able to contain my anger towards the king of hell.

"ah ah, first there's a small matter of my finders fee."

"nothing ever comes free with you, wouldn't have expected anything less."

****************************************************

I hesitantly walk in to the bar not knowing what to expect. I didn't even tell Sam where I was going. I knew he didn't have the strength to fight, and I didn't want him to get hurt.

"hiya angel." Dean said looking up at me with a smirk.

I felt my breathing get heavy as I looked at him. It was Dean in the flesh, but this thing was so far from Dean. Dean was brave, he was kind, Dean cared.

"I told you to let me go." Dean said picking up his glass of whiskey and sipping it.

"you know I can't do that Dean."

He smirked, taking another sip.

"by the way, your pal Crowley, he sold you out, didn't take him much." I said stepping a bit closer.

"sounds like him."

"Dean, we can cure demons, don't you remember that?" I asked taking another step closer.

Dean picked up the first blade, walking past me in a threatening manner.

"a little latin, lot of blood, yeah it rings a bell. but did you ever stop to think that if I wanted to be cured, I wouldn't have bailed."

"Dean that was Crowley, you don't know what you're doing."

"that's what you think." Dean said pouring himself another glass of whiskey.

"well it doesn't matter Dean, whatever happened, whatever went down, we will fix it." I said cautiously taking another step towards him.

"Oh will we? Meanwhile I'm doing all I can to not come over there and rip your throat out."

"Dean you don't mean that."

"I'm giving you a chance to run sweetheart, better take it." Dean threatened.

"I'll pass." I said quickly.

“I'm not walking out that door with you, I'm just not, so what are you going to do angel, huh? Are you going to kill me?" Dean asked.

I felt a chill run down my spine at the way he called me angel. It was laced with venom.

"I didn't come here to kill you."

"why? you have no idea what I've done, in fact I might have it coming."

"I don't care Dean, you're my best friend, and I'm here to take you home. I'm here to save you."

I wanted to admit so much more to him.

I wanted to tell him that it's because I was in love with him and couldn't imagine my life without him in it. I was worried now that I wouldn't get the chance too.

I heard Dean start to chuckle.

"save me? why would you want to save me? it's never been you, you know." Dean said taking a sip.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Dean got up sauntering his way over to me. I instinctively took a step back, not trusting him. I soon found out though, the more distance I tried to put between us the closer he got. I raised my hand up putting it on his chest to stop him from getting any closer.

Dean smirked at me before twisting my arm and bringing his hand up to my throat. He pinned me to the wall a twisted look in his eyes. I felt a chill run down my spine, he was getting pleasure out of this.

"I see the way you look at me, the way you lust for me, you want me." Dean smirked.

I glared at him, trying to turn my face away, his hold on my throat getting tighter.

"you don't want to kill me because you're in love with me, and you have been for quite some time, haven't you?"

I couldn't speak, Dean's hold on me was too tight. I furrowed my eyebrows as if to convey he wasn't right, even though he was.

"and its never been you for me.. you see while you've been trying to find me, trying to save me, i've been fucking everything with a heartbeat." Dean growled.

I could feel the tears brim my eyes as his words cut in to me. I knew he was just trying to hurt me, but part of me wondered if that's how Dean actually felt.

He let go of my throat, shoving me to the floor. I instantly stood back up taking out the handcuffs from my back pocket.

"you really think those are going to work sweetheart?" Dean asked with a smirk.

"well there's one way to find out."

As I took a step forward, the window shattered and the entire room started filling with smoke. I looked to my left to see someone had threw a smoke grenade. I felt the air rush from my lungs as I breathed in the smoke. I put my shirt over my mouth and nose, trying to find an exit. I started to cough, as my vision got blurry.

I finally found the emergency exit, pushing it open. I saw the silhouette of a man on the other side as I collapsed from smoke inhalation. He struck me across the face hard, causing me to fall back to the ground, hitting my head in the process.

I was seeing stars as I sat clutching my bleeding head. Dean came out glaring the man down. I heard them exchange some words, but couldn't make out exactly what they were saying.

I noticed myself start to slip in and out of consciousness.

I saw them start to fight, Dean clearly having the upper hand.

I felt like my head was on fire, as I glanced up seeing Dean holding the first blade to the guys neck. He was going to kill him. I was surprised when he dropped him, tucking the blade back in to his pocket. I tried to muster up any strength I could to get up, but my body was betraying me. Dean walked over to me, a sick grin etched on to his face as he swayed his hips.

"Dean please." I choked out.

"time to sleep now baby."

Dean raised his hand striking me, and that's the last thing I remember before my world went dark.

****************************************************

I was in agonizing pain as I fluttered my eyelashes open. I panicked as I couldn't move my body. I looked down to see my arms and legs were bound to a wooden chair. I gathered from my surroundings that I was in some kind of warehouse, but I didn't recognize where.

"oh good, you're awake."

Dean came over crouching in front of me so we were eye level.

"let me go." I growled.

"can't do that angel." He said caressing my cheek.

I quickly moved my head away, causing his hand to fall.

"you don't want to provoke me." Dean growled.

"or what? you're going to kill me?"

Dean gave a sickly sweet smile. He leaned in close whispering in my ear.

"or you're going to wish you were dead."

"I'm not scared of you Dean." I snapped.

Dean lets out a chuckle, standing to his feet.

"I knew there was a reason I liked you so much, feisty little thing."

"why don't you let me out of these ropes and I'll show you just how feisty I can be."

Dean chuckled again, grabbing a bottle of whiskey taking a sip.

"I don't even know why I'm talking to you, this isn't even the real you." I scoffed.

"oh it's the real me alright, the new real me, the me who sees things for what they actually are."

I scoffed again rolling my eyes at his words.

"hunters, do-gooders, fighting the natural order, well let me tell you something sweetheart people like me, we are the natural order."

"yeah well people like me still gotta do what we can." I growled.

Dean smirked as he crouched back down to my eye level.

"oh don't be so full of yourself baby, cause you see from where I'm sitting, there ain't much difference from what I turned in to, to what you already are." Dean smirked.

"and what is that supposed to mean?" I growled.

Dean took one hand resting on my cheek, the other on the back of my neck so I couldn't move away from him again.

"I know what you did when you went looking for me, how far you went." Dean whispered, dangerously close to my face.

I felt the guilt sink back in.

I just kept telling myself I did what I had to in order to find Dean. I felt my breathing quicken as Dean came in closer, practically brushing his lips against mine.

"so let me ask you baby, which one of us is really the monster?"

I felt the tears brimming my lashes as Dean stared at me. Dean smirked as he stood back up.

"Now you and Sammy were trying to get a twenty on Crowley and me from any demon you could snag, but Crowley didn't want to be found, and no one showed when you summoned. But you my angel, you found your own way didn't you?"

I was ridden with guilt as I remembered how I tricked Lester in to summoning a demon to make a deal.

"You would've liked to have gotten there before the deal went down but you didn't really care about poor ol' Lester did you? Oh and just so you know, I uh killed Lester myself." Dean smirked as if it were funny.

"I never meant.." I started to choke out but Dean cut me off.

"who cares what you meant, that line that we thought was so clear between us and the things we hunted, ain't so clear is it?" Dean yelled.

I bit my lip to stop the tears from falling.

"wow, you know, you might actually be worse then me. I mean you took a guy at his lowest, used him, and it cost him his life and his soul, nice work baby." Dean said crouching back down.

I spit in his face, the anger I was feeling towards him boiling over. Dean angrily wiped his face off with the hem of his shirt.

"there's no point in trying to bring your best friend back now." Dean growled.

"oh I’ll bring him back, if it's the last thing I do." I growled.

"In fact, your uh guilt ridden, weight-of-the-world best friend, has been M.I.A. for quite some time now. I have to say though, I'm loving the new model, lean, mean, Dean."

I rolled my eyes turning my head away from him.

"I can't believe you're still trying! I mean, I couldn't wait to get away from you. I chose the king of hell over you! I guess I was just tired of having to coddle you, always having to yank your ass out of the fire. Do you ever stop to think that just your very existence sucks the life out of my life?" Dean said.

I could feel the tears run down my cheeks as he spoke.

"this isn't my best friend talking, he would never say those things." I spoke, more for my benefit than for his.

"you never had a best friend, just an excuse for wimping out, and guess what angel, I quit."

"no, you don't get to quit, we don't quit, okay you and me Dean we're bonded whether you like it or not, and this bond is all that we've got." I cried.

"well then we've got nothing." Dean smirked.

I looked down at the floor, praying that Sam had noticed I was gone. I was praying to Castiel to come find me. I knew if it came down to it, I couldn't kill Dean, even if it meant he'd kill me. I was praying for another solution.

I heard the door open and the sound of heeled footsteps against the floor.

"you brought us a play thing?"

I looked up to see a female, she wore black eyes similar to Deans.

"not us, mine." Dean growled at the girl who took a step closer to me.

"but I want to play too." she smirked coming over to me, brushing a piece of hair off my bare shoulder.

I shivered at her touch, trying to move away with what limited space I had.

"I said no." Dean growled.

I glanced up meeting Dean's eyes and for a second, just a second, I could see he wasn't totally gone.

"have you gone soft on us Winchester?"

"ha, not even, but you see that one's kind of a special project of mine, and I want to kill her myself." Dean smirked staring at me.

"okay, then I won't kill her."

As she said this, she shoved the chair back, causing me to hit my head on the concrete below. I grunted as the air was knocked out of my lungs.

"I'll just hurt her." she laughed.

"Dean please." I pleaded, struggling to breathe.

"Dean's gone." the woman whispered, running a hand through my hair.

"Dean I know you're in there. I'm begging you. I always rely on you because I know I can. Dean you're the most selfless person I know. I know that somewhere inside you still care. I know you don't want to hurt me Dean." I cried.

As I was putting on my show, I managed to wiggle one of my arms free. I reached around to grab my blade that was hidden in my belt loop, but I didn't feel anything.

"are you looking for this?" she smirked, inspecting the demon blade.

"go back to hell where you belong." I snapped.

"nice show, even almost had me fooled for a second." I heard her laugh.

She held the blade to my cheek. I could feel my breathing quicken as she ran the blade down my cheek towards my neck. She pressed in just enough to draw a small trickle of blood. I looked past her to try to reason with Dean again but I didn't see him.

I suddenly felt blood splatter on my face. It was coming from the woman's mouth as Dean plunged the first blade deeper in to her spine. I watched the life leave her eyes in an instant. Dean grunted as he ripped the blade out, her now lifeless body slumping over my own. He threw her body off of me, picking the chair back up.

He started to pace around the room as if he wasn’t sure what just happened.

"look what you made me do!" Dean yelled.

"Dean, let me go, and then I can help you." I whimpered weakly.

Dean glared at me, his eyes going black before flashing back to his normal green ones. Dean growled, opening the door to the room before slamming it shut leaving me alone.

I had to get out of here. I noticed my blade still on the ground, just a few feet from where I sat. If I can get to it, I can cut myself free.

I leaned over as far as I could, causing the chair to tip over sideways. I once again smacked my head on the concrete as I fell. I groaned at the impact but shook it off, using my free arm to pull myself closer to the knife. I reached out my arm, my fingers just barely grazing the handle.

"come on!" I exclaimed, trying to grip it again.

I finally managed to wrap my fingers around the handle of the blade. I breathed a momentary sigh of relief, cutting my other arm free from the ropes than cutting my ankles free. I stood up weakly looking for an exit. I took my sleeve, wiping the blood off my face.

I wasn't sure how much of it was hers, and how much of it was my own.

I finally saw a red exit sign. I mustered up all my strength sprinting over to it. I put my hand on the door, but suddenly stopped.

I couldn't leave him.

I wouldn't.

I was debating with myself when I heard a loud growl. Dean must've come back and noticed I was gone.

"you're coming home whether you like it or not." I whispered, running through the warehouse.

I could hear Dean walking after me, opening doors as he went. It was eery how calm he walked.

"come on baby, don't you want to hang out with me, spend a little quality time." Dean yelled.

I quieted my breathing as I found the keys to the electrical room. I moved quietly against the walls towards the room.

I heard Dean kick down some doors, growling every time I wasn't behind one of them. I managed to get to the electrical room. I fumbled with the keys trying to unlock the door.

"fuck" I muttered in frustration.

I finally got in, and immediately pulled every switch I could, killing the power.

"that's smart angel, but now I know where to find you." Dean growled as he rushed towards where I was.

I hid against the wall waiting for him. I heard him enter quietly, looking around for me.

"come on out angel, you're just making things worse for yourself." Dean growled.

I rushed over to the door, just as Dean threw the switches back, restarting the power.

"now this is me yanking your ass out of the fire." I spit slamming the door and locking him inside.

I heard Dean chuckle.

"this is your big plan, locking me in?"

"Dean, just please come with me and we can cure you." I said holding out my demon blade.

It was completely silent.

"Dean?"

I jumped in fright as Dean banged on the door, slowly splitting the wood.

"you act like I wanna be cured, personally I like the disease." Dean growled, using a hammer he found to break the door down.

"Dean stop! I don't want to use this blade on you!" I yelled holding it out further in front of my body.

"that sucks for you doesn't it angel, cause you really mean that." Dean smirked, hitting the door with the hammer again.

"Dean if you come out of that room, I won't have a choice." I whimpered, choking back tears.

"oh sure you will, and I know which one you'll make, isn't that right baby?" Dean growled smacking the door harder.

I knew the door wouldn't hold him much longer.

"I'm lucky though, cause there's just enough demon left in me that killing you, ain't gonna be a choice at all." Dean growled continuing to break the door down.

I felt the tears streaming down my face at this point. I could see the door giving way. I turned around sprinting away before it broke completely. I heard one last loud bang before the door gave way. Dean's heavy footsteps were once again behind me.

"come on angel, lets kiss and make up. I'm tired of playing let's finish this game." Dean growled.

I leaned against the wall taking a deep breath. I didn't have the strength to continue. I knew I was no match for him.

I glanced down the corridor where I thought Dean was coming from. I didn't see him though.

I turned around just in time to see a hammer flying towards my head. I ducked quickly, pushing my demon blade against Dean's throat. I could hear Dean chuckle as he looked at me, raising his hands in mock surrender.

"well, well look at you baby, go on do it." Dean growled leaning in to the knife.

I felt the tears cloud my vision as I slowly dropped the knife.

I couldn't kill him.

I watched as Dean's eyes went black. He gripped my throat throwing me against the wall before slamming me on the ground. I watched him take out the first blade, bringing it above his head.

"Dean I love you."

I closed my eyes, waiting for death to come.

But it didn't.

I opened my eyes to see Dean growling, as if he was fighting an inner battle with himself, a battle for his soul. I caught sight of Castiel sneaking up behind Dean, wrapping him in his arms. Dean growled, trying to get out of his grasp.

"Dean it's over." Cas said his eyes flashing their beautiful blue.

Dean collapsed in CastieI's arms, before I slapped the demon cuffs on him. I felt myself relax as I saw Sam rushing to my side.

****************************************************

"I'll meet you guys soon, just one thing left to do." I said holding the first blade in my hand.

"Be careful." Sam said placing a kiss on my forehead.

I gave him a nod, watching him get in the impala with Castiel and a still unconscious Dean. I sighed as they pulled away from me.

"you can stop hiding now." I called.

I saw Crowley emerge from the shadows, a smirk on his face as he eyed the blade.

"pleasure doing business with you." He spoke reaching his hand out.

I quickly pulled it out of his reach.

"what are you going to do with it?" I inquired.

"oh toss it in a volcano, leave it on the moon, i'll get creative." He laughed.

I hesitantly eyed him.

"believe me love, I don't want Dean getting his hands on the precious any more than you do. he knows I've ratted and he tends to hold a grudge....I don't want to get how you say boned."

I rolled my eyes at him.

"besides a deals a deal."

I huffed before handing the blade over to him.

"I hope you know this doesn't make us square, quite the opposite actually, I swear Crowley if I see you again.." I started but he cut me off.

"oh stop it love, no one likes a tease."

I glared at him one last time before hopping in the truck, starting the drive back to Kansas.

I felt like my head was going to explode from everything that had happened in such a short time. Dean's words replayed in my head on a continuous loop.

It wasn't him, I know that. It didn't make anything he said any less hurtful though.

It's never been you.

You see while you've been trying to find me, trying to save me, I've been fucking everything with a heartbeat.

Do you ever stop to think that just your very existence sucks the life out of my life?

I felt the tears cloud my vision, making the road harder to see. I pulled over to the side of the road and cried. I let out every emotion I'd been holding in.

I cried for Dean, I cried for what he went through. I cried for me. I cried for the strain that this was going to put on our relationship. I just cried.

I didn't know how long I'd been crying but I finally collected myself enough to start driving again. I knew that Sam and Castiel could handle Dean. I'm sure they were already back in Kansas, starting the purified blood cure on Dean.

I didn't even know if I was ready to face him again. I spilled my darkest secret to Dean, fearing that I would be dead and never having the chance to tell him.

Dean didn't kill me though.

He could have very easily, I didn't put up much of a fight.

But he didn't.

I was praying that maybe some part of him felt something for me too.

I managed to make the rest of the drive to Kansas. I pulled up to the bunker, hearing Dean growl as the demon was expelled from his body. I hesitantly walked over seeing him slumped over in a chair, much like I was hours ago. Sam injected another syringe of purified blood in to his arm.

"what the hell are we doing to him guys? I mean even after everything he said he didn't want to be cured, that he didn't want to be human." I spoke, feeling the tears that I was sure I had cried all out, start to rim my eyes once again.

"well, I can see his point, you know, only humans can feel real joy, but also such profound pain." Castiel said staring directly at me while talking about pain.

"I guess this is easier." Sam added.

I was about to respond when Dean groaned, trying to move. He raised his head, showing us his black eyes, before they returned to their shade of green.

Dean groaned hoarsely before exhaling a big breath. He looked at the three of us confused, as if everything was coming back to him.

"you look worried guys." Dean spoke up.

I could feel Dean's eyes stay on me. He stared at me intently. I just hoped I didn't look as broken as I felt.

Castiel, Sam, and I gave each other a look, all wondering the same thing. Was Dean back?

Sam uncapped the holy water throwing it on to Dean's face. I sighed with relief when he didn't have a reaction to it. Sam smiled at us. I was still a little apprehensive as was Castiel.

"Dean, we've missed you." Sam said.

Castiel and Sam unchained Dean, helping him to his feet. I felt like every word I wanted to say was stuck in my throat. Dean stared at me as the boys led him to his room. He was weak, the blood cure taking a lot out of him.

How was I even supposed to talk to him about this?

Castiel and Sam returned quickly after getting Dean settled.

"how's he doing?" I asked the boys.

"he's still a little out of it, but better. I mean I think the blood cure, all of it, it really wrecked him you know." Sam said giving me an apologetic look.

It was silent for a moment.

"on the plus side, he's hungry again so I'm going to go pick us up some food, you guys mind keeping an eye?" Sam added grabbing the keys to the impala.

I nodded my head as he walked out. Castiel was unnaturally quiet.

"what is it Cas?"

"one problem is solved, but one still remains. Dean is no longer a demon, that's true, but the mark of cain, that he still has, and sooner or later that's going to become an issue.”

I knew he was right, Castiel always was.

"one battle at a time Cas." I half smiled.

Castiel looked at me with a sad face. It was no use hiding my emotions from him because the angel always figured it out. Castiel stepped up, wrapping his arms around me in a hug. I felt a tear cascade down my cheek as I sunk in his embrace.

"I'm uh, going to get cleaned up." I whispered.

I felt every muscle in my body aching as I walked to the bathroom. I cringed when I saw my reflection in the mirror. I looked like hell.

I sported a hand shaped bruise around my throat, along with a cut from my knife. I had a gash on my head, and my face was still crimson colored from the blood. I could see various other bruises forming all over. I licked over my lip that was busted from being thrown against the wall by Dean.

I definitely looked as broken as I felt.

I sighed as I stepped in to the steady stream of water, the sound of the water slapping against my skin drowned out my sobs. I scrubbed my skin until it felt raw.

I got out wrapping the towel tightly around my body. I tiptoed past Deans room. I couldn't help my curiosity as I heard Dean and Castiel talking.

"thank you, for stepping in when you did... has uh she talked to you? what does she say, does she want anything to do with me?" Dean asked.

I could hear the hurt in his voice. It made me hurt more.

"I'm sure she knows whatever you said, whatever you did, that wasn't really you, I mean it certainly wasn't all of you." Castiel reassured.

"Cas, I tried to kill her. Did you see her? I did that! I can't take back the things I said Cas." Dean said.

"Dean I feel I can be honest with you. You two have been through so much together, you're bonded. It'll take a lot more than you trying to kill her with a hammer to get her to walk away." Castiel said.

"you realize how screwed up our lives are that, that even makes sense?" Dean says causing Cas to chuckle.

"I think you should talk to her, and then maybe you should uh take some time, allow both of you to heal."

I heard Castiel exit Dean's room, closing the door. He gave me a wordless look as he passed, signifying that his words were just as much meant for me as they were for Dean.

Castiel the wise.

Of course I couldn't walk away from Dean.

I sighed as I walked to my room, quickly throwing on some clothes. As soon as I lay in my soft bed, I realize how burnt out I was. I heard a soft knock on my door.

"yeah?" I called out hesitantly.

"it's me, the real me."

I felt the air get caught in my throat.

"come in."

Dean opened the door slowly. I could see the hurt flashing in his eyes at he looked at me. I sat up not meeting his eyes. Dean walked over, sitting on the edge of my bed.

"(y/n), I.."

"you don't have to apologize Dean, I know that wasn't you." I spoke.

"it doesn't make it any less shitty though." He said through gritted teeth.

"or hurt any less." I admitted.

Dean ran a hand through his hair in frustration. I could see that this was really hurting him.

"but you could've killed me, and you didn't, you saved me, you stopped yourself." I said finally meeting his eyes.

"I couldn't kill you. I feel for you too much, even as a demon." Dean whispered, hesitantly looking at me.

I felt my heart swell up at his words.

"what I said, it wasn't true." Dean said, sliding just a bit closer to my body.

"it's okay if part of it was, it's never been me and that's okay." I said feeling my heartache.

Dean looked at me as if I had three heads.

"never been you? It's always been you."

I felt the tears run down my cheeks as Dean put a hand up, caressing one of them.

"Dean I don't know how we move on from this." I cried.

"I don't know either, but we're going to do it, together, just like always."

I smiled at Dean for the first time.

"there's my Dean." I whispered.

Dean leaned in slowly, leaning his forehead against mine.

"did you mean what you said?" Dean asked hesitantly.

I gave him a confused look.

"that you love me, did you mean it?"

I swallowed nervously as I stared at him. I slowly nodded my head adverting my eyes from his gaze. Dean grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him.

I gasped as Dean crashed his lips on to mine. I was shocked so naturally I was still. Once my brain processed what was happening I pressed my lips against his, kissing him as if my life depended on it. He pulled away slowly, keeping his forehead pressed to mine.

“I love you too, I always have.” Dean spoke.

I felt the tears well in my eyes again, but these tears were different. These weren’t tears of sadness, they were tears of pure love.

Dean smiled as he reconnected our lips together in a heated kiss. It was lustful, neither one of use being able to contain the passion we had felt for each other for far too long.

Dean slid his hands under my shirt, gripping on to my hips as he deepened the kiss. I was so caught up in the moment I ignored my muscles screaming at me to stop. Dean brought my shirt over my head, breaking the kiss just long enough to do so. I felt insecure as my bare chest was now exposed for him. I panted as he brought his lips down to my neck gently kissing over the bruise.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart.” Dean said in between kisses.

I grabbed the hem of his shirt taking it off. I saw the mark of cain glistening on his forearm. I brought his arm to my lips, slowly kissing over the mark. Dean pushed me back on the bed so he was hovering over me. I gasped as his hands slid there way down my body to my shorts.

It was slow and passionate. I felt like my skin was on fire every time his fingertips met my skin. Dean dragged my shorts down my legs, his fingers brushing against my sensitive heat.

I wasted no time putting my hands in his pants yanking them down over his butt and down his legs. I was surprised to feel that he was already fully erect.

“do you want this?” Dean asked kissing my lips.

“more than i’ve ever wanted anything.”

Dean, with my consent slowly slid himself in to me. I groaned as my body adjusted to his large girth. He started to move at a slow pace, savoring the feeling of finally being together so intimately.

“It’s always been you.” Dean said as he thrusted deeply.

I don’t think either of us had the energy for the sex we really wanted to have but this sex was sweet, and full of love. I moaned as Dean picked up the pace, but still savoring the feeling of every thrust inside of me. I brought my hips up matching his thrusts. I was a moaning mess as we thrusted against each other, our lips crashing with each thrust.

“Dean” I moaned signifying that I was close.

Dean thrusted some more, softly but at a steady rhythm. I moaned one last time as I felt myself spilling over the edge. I was gripping him so hard, it cause him to release his arousal too. Dean’s body gave out as he collapsed beside me.

“hey guys I got the… oh god really Dean?” Sam said dropping the bag of food and covering his eyes.

I laughed at him, joined by Dean.

“not even back twenty four hours and this is how you’re spending your time.” Sam groaned in embarrassment.

“blame Cas, he’s the one that told us we should talk.” Dean laughed.

Sam backed out of my room, shutting the door behind him. I gazed at Dean but found out he was already staring at me.

“I didn’t save you, you saved me.” Dean whispered tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

“I’ll always save you Dean.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

Author Note:

I really hope you guys like it! If you feel so inclined please leave a heart, comment, reblog or a follow! I appreciate it!

715 notes · View notes

idwt-money · 9 months

Text

Sleepless Nights

MDNI 18+

1.5k words, Noah Sebastian x fem!reader

CW: unprotected sex, oral sex (fem rec), slight spit play(??), tiny bit of aggression

“Fuck, Noah..” whispers were almost silent in the room. Words that wouldn’t be remembered in the morning.

It was ungodly hours in the morning and it was the first night Noah was back from tour. He would usually be dead asleep, snoring and mumbling in his sleep by now but you made this tour…especially excruciating.

You would send him pictures of yourself in new lingerie while he was away, forcing him to jerk off in a tiny tour bus bathroom. Having to be dead silent due to the, quite literal, paper-thin walls of said tour bus.

You hadn’t been able to help but giggle to yourself when this happened. He would send you texts back almost immediately. Something along the lines of “I’m going to fuck you until your head is spinning.”

You had never held him to his words as he was usually a shy boy. Although this behavior was unusual, you didn't think much of it. You figured he had gained confidence over the phone.

Once he had actually gotten home, he almost immediately pinned you against the wall of your shared home and took you like a rabid animal.

It took you by surprise, really. Usually you were the one to initiate, but this was nothing you were complaining about.

And here you are now, ass up and Noah having no mercy on your poor body.

“What baby? Didn’t think I meant what I said in those texts did you?” His words were sparse between grunts and huffs from all the pleasure his touched starved cock was receiving in the moment.

He knew you couldn’t respond, not only because your sentence would just be a string of moans and pathetic whimpers, but also due to the fact he had a fist full of your hair, pushing your face into the duvet.

God, you wished and hoped that he would turn you over so you could see how devilishly sinful he looked.

That thought lasted maybe 30 seconds when Noah slapped your ass, with much force, bringing you close to your first orgasm of the night.

You didn’t have to say anything, Noah knew your body better than you did. Your legs began to shake, your pussy tightened around him and your muffled cries and pleas were becoming louder by the second.

“Give it to me. I want it now.”

With Noah’s permission you let your orgasm rip through you like lightning bolts. It made your vision go blurry before you shut your eyes.

It dozed through you before coming to an end. You had never gone for so long without an orgasm caused by your lover.

You both were highschool sweethearts and up until the tour, you hadn’t gone even an entire 2 weeks without seeing each other, let alone fuck.

With no words shared, Noah moved you onto your back and thank god he did. He looked just as you imagined. His hair was messy and falling in his face due to the utterly unforgiving thrusts he had been fucking into you.

“There’s my pretty girl. So so good for giving yourself to me.” His voice was ridden with a tone somewhere between lust and love. He had slowed his thrusts, just long enough to give you a kiss to your lips. It was messy and unfathomably pussy throbbing. Your tongues were swirling around each other as if they were dancing to an unheard beat. Saliva was starting to pool down your chin but when he pulled away, you couldn’t be bothered to wipe it away. Noah grabbed your legs, pulled you closer and went at an unrelenting pace. You knew he was close but not this close. 3 or 4 thrusts later he was letting curse words leave his lips and he spilled his load onto your stomach.

His chest heaved and gasped for air as he milked his cock for the remains of his orgasm. The words he was growling out seemed to have come somewhere deep within his diaphragm. Almost like he was on stage screaming for thousands of people. Neither of you cared about how loud you were being or if any of the neighbors had heard you. In this very moment, it was just you two.

You had made eye contact before watching him sink to his knees, off of the bed and dive into your pussy like it was a divine meal meant for the gods. The wet noises coming from Noah’s mouth immediately sent your two hands into his hair. No matter how nasty you two fucked, he always treated your pussy like his last meal on earth, being sure to treasure every lick, slurp and gulp.

“Oh fuck, Noah” When he wrapped your lips around your already sensitive clit, it caused your body to jolt. Your thighs clenched around his head and your fingers to pull at his hair.

Grunts escaped his mouth, his now being muffled due to the position you had him trapped in. In which only caused you more pleasure. The vibrations of his now low moans made your mind foggy. You started to take it into your own hands and grind against his tongue.

Noah seemingly didn’t like the idea of you taking charge and left a hefty slap to your thigh.

“We’re doing this at the pace I want. I waited far too fuckin’ long to taste you. I am in charge. Understand?” His voice was low and husky, causing a rush of wetness straight to your pussy. You nodded, thinking it would give him satisfaction of an answer. It didn’t.

“Use your fucking words y/n” He had a look of the slightest irritation written on it.

“Yes sir.” Your words were quiet but it did the job as he went back down, taking long, thoughtful strokes to your clit. Your mouth fell open and your eyes collapsed closed, taking in nothing the warm, wet feeling of his devilish tongue.

Noah could genuinely go on forever between your legs, he, a couple times, had gone until you were crying and his jaw was sore. It was almost like he enjoyed watching you squirm and shake due to his tongue rather than actually fucking you.

Your moans had now gone high pitched, and the once slow, languid licks of his tongue were now fast and on the borderline of being dangerous.

“Baby- oh fuck! Please keep going. I’m so so so close!” You once again rested your hands in his hair as a poor excuse to try and ground yourself.

Noah didn’t say a word, instead giving you silent praise by swirling his tongue around your clit.

Another orgasm crashed into you and it was almost debilitating.

Your eyes had rolled to the back of your head, Noah brought you in closer with a grasp on your hips and you were spent.

He pulled away, licking his lips and slightly cleaning the mess your cunt had made dripping down his chin.

“You taste like heaven itself. Holy shit.” He said in disbelief.

He climbed atop of you and shared a chaste kiss with you, venturing his way down your neck. He left small bites and small hickies here and there, in some sort of proof you were his and no one else could ever have you in the way he does.

Despite what Noah had planned in his own world, you went against it and forced him to lay down, now hovering over his cock.as you sunk down onto him, his nails sunk into your hips.

You softly grinded down onto him, throwing your head back and biting your lip as an attempt to stop yourself from smiling too big.

Once you got comfortable on top of him, you situated your legs and started to bounce up and down on his cock. Noah was now being more vocal with curses, groans, huffs, grunts. Whatever his body could do to help the overpowering sensation of pleasure.

This time, you weren’t worried about achieving your own orgasm but wanted to pull one more out of Noah before you both were too tired.

“Come on handsome. I know you got it in you, give it to me.”

Noah had an undeniable thing for praise and encouragement in these situations, contrary to popular belief.

“Mhm, just like that, just like that. Shit!” His voice was worn out now, giving it more of a soft moan rather than his previous growls.

Within seconds he was unfolding in front of your eyes, his breathing became shallow and his eyes were pinched closed, focusing on getting him to topple over the edge of pure bliss. As his mouth fell open, he released everything into you. As he came, his grip on your hips dug deeper and you wouldn’t have been surprised if you had bruises the next day.

As soon as he was done with his orgasm, you toppled over onto his chest, even though you were dirtied with his previous orgasm. He softly rubbed your back as he whispered soft words of adoration to you.

Soon enough helped you clean off what mess he made in your rendezvous earlier. Once you were in bed, you made a small conversation consisting of how much you missed him while he was away from you.

#bad omens cult #bad omens #noah sebastian #noahsebastian #badomens #bad omens band #badomenscult #nick folio #jolly karlsson #nicholas ruffilo

365 notes · View notes

darsynia · 2 years

Text

Hand(s) Off | Ch 2: Ecstasy

(Steve Rogers/f!Reader sex pollen-esque multichapter)

STORY MASTERLIST | STEVE MASTERLIST | PREV | NEXT

Summary: Steve's loved hearing about you from Bucky. He doesn't want anything to derail the progress his best friend has made toward being a whole person again, which is why he's going to use every ounce of his slowly-deteriorating willpower to resist touching you, tasting you, taking you. After all, he's just met you, and his own integrity, not to mention Bucky's trust, is important to him.

Neither of you are prepared for the catch.

Length | Warnings: 2,841 | Explicit sexual situations (they don't succeed in resisting, folks), MINORS DNI

Note: I want to make clear that I’m treating the issues of consent with sensitivity, as you'll hopefully see in this chapter!

Fill: Adoptable 'Pheremones’ from @allcapsbingo

Tags (please request!): @starryeyes2000 @munstysmind @ronearoundblindly @chickensarentcheap @themaradaniels @tiny-anne @deepbatched @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @wolfstar-marvelsfan @icequeen1371 @chibijusstuff @nekoannie-chan

Excerpt:

“I’m-- wow, this is intense,” you say next.

There’s a little cry to the last word. You are clearly affected by Mistress too, and Steve feels both grateful and guilty about how relieved he is about that. This is a moral catastrophe, but you’re in this mess together, sort of. Anything less and Bucky would demand the right to kick his ass.

Hell, he probably still will.

“Take--” He stops himself. “Why don’t you take it off?”

“Nice catch,” you praise, leading him to buck his hips up. “Only if you take your shorts off, too. Fair’s fair.”

“Nothing about this is fair,” he growls out, getting up. Steve takes everything off because, fuck yes, access is what he needs right now. It’s a testament to how ruled he is by the drug in his system that it doesn’t even feel wrong to be wearing just a shirt in the room with you.

Ecstasy

Steve had known about you for a while now. He had been picturing you as a gorgeous pin-up, a dream woman, someone who could bridge the gap between 1940’s Bucky and the shadowed self his best friend had become. With everything Bucky’s told him about you, that impression had been reinforced.

Now he’s looking at you, your eyes wide, body a shapeless mass under the blanket, and he can’t help but wonder what you’ve heard from Bucky’s stories, from the footage of the attack on New York, from interviews since. Do you think he stands for integrity, kindness, justice? Can any of that possibly survive the unbearable need he’s feeling right now?

“I’m going to cover my face with this blanket, okay? Two layers of it.” You do that, waving a hand in front of your own face to check that it’s fully opaque. “You came here to change out of those wet clothes, don’t let me stop you!” You’re right, but Steve simply cannot picture that. Not with you in the room. “I tell you what: I’ll-- I’ll hum one of the songs I’ve been practicing for this weekend’s set, okay? That way I won’t be able to hear you.”

You’d said ‘hum,’ but the sultry notes resonating from under your blanket shouldn’t be described that way. Steve wrestles himself out of the soaked button-down and undershirt and chooses a white tank top for comfort. His temperature has to be in actual fever territory, and without any… relief, that’s hardly going to change.

When he unzips his pants, the humming gets louder, and Steve can’t help it, he rubs himself with the heel of his hand. He wonders if you’re sitting under that blanket with your eyes shut, picturing him undressing. Recognizing his own lowered inhibitions, he hurries up, stripping down completely in favor of getting every ounce of the drug away from body contact.

He’s pulling on a pair of shorts when you stop.

“Oh, I wanted to say, Cap--”

“Use ‘Steve,’” he says quickly. “I don’t want memories of--”

“Oh, God, you’re right. Sorry,” you groan in interruption.

It takes all his self-discipline not to respond to the need in that groan, squeezing his wet clothes so tightly they drip onto the carpet. You can’t see him, so you’re already continuing.

“I was going to say, you should bury those clothes in the hamper or a drawer or something, because I’m, uh, getting the equivalent of secondhand smoke, here.”

Steve distracts himself from that worrisome development by burying the clothes in his basket as if it were a mission. When he turns around, you’re standing, the blanket draped around you like a shield.

“Is this stuff dangerous at your dose? Should we break you out of here?” you ask, eyes wide.

“Breaking out would kill you.” He’d thought of that already. “The next level of security is enough nerve gas to incapacitate a super soldier. Today’s testing was to find out what’s safe.”

“At least they’ll get some data,” you muse. “Fuck, this blanket is getting hot-- I have an idea of how to survive this, but in case that fails, I’m sure Bucky already told you about my fifteen-minute adoring rave about your ass?”

He cannot fathom why you would say that. “Uh…”

“Never mind,” you say, wiping sweat off of your chin with the back of a hand. It looks like you’re right about being affected by the drug; Banner had said it was capable of being aerosolized. “So, we’re trapped here, yes?”

“Yes, but I have no intentions of touching you,” Steve says, using his Command voice, as much as he hates the cross-contamination. To his surprise, your eyes grow fierce.

“Well, I have no intentions of being the bitch so unappealing that Captain America would rather die than touch her with Mistress in his system, so why don’t you hear me out?”

Stunned and slightly impressed, Steve puts his hands up. “I didn’t think of that. Go on.”

You pull the blanket closer around yourself. You’d said you were too hot, so this is vulnerability, and it makes him feel protective. That’s some cross-contamination too, but it can’t be helped.

“Okay, if we’re not touching each other then we’ll have to touch ourselves, and we’re in this tiny room.” You walk over to the bed and point to the floor on either side of it, saying, “I suggest we each pick a side, flip the light off, and talk each other through it. It’ll be less intimate without the visuals, and maybe we can each pretend it’s a phone conversation on speaker?”

“With the bed as a natural barrier?”

“Yeah.”

Steve can already picture you seated on that blanket on the floor, head thrown back against the mattress, hands moving out of sight. It’s a compelling image. He clenches his jaw, pulling in too much air to give himself a different discomfort to distract himself with.

“Good thought. You stay on the door side. I’ll head over to the other side and stay there.”

“I don’t think you want to ‘soldier’ this, Steve,” you say, your voice softening to a whisper on his name like you have to force yourself to say it.

“Not sure I can stop,” Steve admits, propelling himself over to the wall on ‘his side.’ “Better get the light. This is…” he stops, needing to slow his breathing. All he can see when he closes his eyes is you slowly pulling the fabric of your dress up--

The light clicks off, plunging the room in darkness.

“Wow. I was expecting the darkness to feel comforting, but…” you say.

“Just sit down, shut your eyes,” Steve says-- and it’s all wrong. His voice is harsh, almost annoyed. He is annoyed. He should be better than this, but… “I’m sorry,” he says aloud. He’s apologizing to himself as much as to you.

“Me too,” you whisper, adding a little grateful noise that has Steve setting his forehead on the back wall. “Besides being very glad I can drop that blanket, I have no idea what I’m doing. Do we talk about ourselves? Each other?”

The taboo of the situation combined with the desire running through Steve’s body like wildfire weakens him to a kneel. This is the best outcome of a terrible situation, he tries to tell himself, but it doesn’t feel like that. Not with the prospect of that sultry tone of yours talking him through it.

“Steve?” You sound worried, alone.

“I’m here,” Steve hurries to say. “Got… distracted. Tell me what you’re doing, what you’re feeling? I still have to work on the command tone thing.” He moves to slump back against the side of the bed.

“You realize you’re still taking charge by not taking charge, yeah?” you say, more confident now, thank God.

“Would it help if you pretend we’ll die if one of us stops talking?”

“Spoken like a true Avenger,” you laugh. It’s throaty, affected, and Steve rests his hand on his lap, presses down. Yes. “Okay, I’m burning up. Inside and out. Even with short sleeves and a skirt.”

Steve makes a ‘Mmm’ noise without even meaning to, his palm rocking against his crotch.

“I’m-- wow, this is intense,” you say next.

Hell, he probably still will.

“Take--” He stops himself. “Why don’t you take it off?”

“Nice catch,” you praise, leading him to buck his hips up. “Only if you take your shorts off, too. Fair’s fair.”

“Nothing about this is fair,” he growls out, getting up. Steve takes his underwear off too because, fuck yes, access is what he needs right now. It’s a testament to how ruled he is by the drug in his system that it doesn’t even feel wrong to be wearing just a shirt in the room with you. With some of the last logical coherence he has left, he grabs a tube of lube out of his bedside drawer.

There are condoms there too, but he won’t be needing them.

“No touching yet!” you call out, right as Steve slides a slick fist along his own length. It feels like the first time he’s ever done it right.

“Who’s giving the orders?”

“You don’t want to leave me behind, do you?”

“I don’t, I promise,” Steve groans.

He collapses onto his knees at the bed, practically praying for release. The mattress shakes, and he can see the whole scene in his mind; you’re scrambling to pull the dress off over your head. He almost doesn’t recognize himself in his own thoughts, but that doesn’t stop them. Do your bra or panties have any lace? What color are they?

“What color?” he rasps aloud, before he can stop himself. Despite what you said, his hand falls back to his cock, gripping but not moving. Even that is intensely pleasurable, but it’s the best he can do.

“Are you asking about what I took off or what I’m still wearing?” you ask.

Playful. Steve’s lost. He’s lost, because you sound joyful despite the situation. This is working, your plan, but he can’t help but feel like he’s trespassing. He should know so much more about you before getting to talk about your underclothes. That thought spirals, predictably, to the kinds of things women used to wear in his own time: hidden garter ribbons, the proliferation of skirts, the--

“Steve, if you’re going to ask questions like that, you ought to listen to the answers. It’s only polite.”

“You answered?”

“I described them. What were you doing?”

His hips jerk forward into his waiting fist, and it’s so sweet and hot and not enough that Steve gasps. “I think you know.”

“God, your voice is rough right now, do you know that?” you ask in a voice that’s rough too. “I’m sliding down the straps of my black lace bra so they pull on my arms.”

“Where are your hands?” One of his is moving slowly, deliberately.

“I’m--” The bedframe shakes slightly, and when you speak again, your voice is muffled like you’d thrown yourself face-first onto the bed. “I’m in flames, but it just hit me where I am and who you are!”

It strikes him that no woman will ever forget who he is ever again, not even in the throes of a mind-altering chemical.

“I’m just a guy, Dee,” he says, turning to sit on the floor again. “I always was. Just a guy who wants to help, to do good.” He’s not doing good right now, saying these kinds of things to someone he cannot drive away from Bucky, but those qualms are fuzzy and indistinct.

“I think I need you to talk now.”

Most of what leaps to mind is filthy, for all that his thoughts move as slow as molasses. “If you slide your hand inside your panties and cup yourself, will both sides of your hand be wet?”

“Fuck, what a question!” Your low groan makes him really want to taste its resonance on the outside of your throat. The mattress moves slightly, just enough to signal to Steve that you’re reaching down. “Y-yes.”

His own hand is moving faster, twisting, the heat of the drug in his system setting fire to every inhibition and replacing the ash with pleasure. “How do you like to be touched?” he manages to ask.

The words hang between the two of you for awhile. Finally, you tell him, using a breathy moan that makes clear that you’re acting out the actions as you speak. His orgasm strikes not long after, and Steve doubles over with the force of it, vocalizing in ways he usually never allows himself to do.

“I loved listening to that.” Your voice has a whine to it, a desperation he totally recognizes.

“It’s your turn,” he says, reaching over and grabbing his pillow to remove the case and wipe himself off with it.

“It smells like-- fuck, that’s so intimate, I--”

“I wish I could smell you,” Steve blurts out, feeling himself harden again. He’d expected that, maybe not quite so quickly, but he's a super soldier overdosing on Mistress.

You let out a gasp, and he leans back against the mattress to feel that it’s shaking, shaking with the rhythmic movements of your arm. You’re right, this is almost unbearably intimate, but right now that’s the best thing ever, with all the possible objections lost behind a haze of hot desire and the smell of sex.

Steve shifts so he’s kneeling at the bed again, his chest and one arm anchored to the mattress so he can enjoy the sensations as you stimulate yourself. “I can feel you move,” he says lowly-- and that’s it, he can hear the change in your breathing.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh,” you wail, the sound changing as you close your lips on the sound to change it to a ‘Mmmm.’

It’s almost enough to send Steve over again, but he’s greedy for every hitched gasp, every translated shove against the bed as you rock through it. Something tells him that reminding you he’s here will make you self conscious, so though each noise burns from his ears all the way across his body, he suppresses the need to vocalize his own resulting pleasure-pain.

Your next words take the edge off.

“You have to be kidding me!” you snap, sounding frustrated. “That felt great, don’t get me wrong, but there’s no relief! I am still using every single brain cell not to climb you like a tree.”

Steve unabashedly humps against the mattress a bit, at that.

“Yeah, see? You know what I’m going through,” you grumble.

“I never expected camaraderie,” Steve coughs out on a laugh. The levity lifts the musky pall of desperate need, but only for a moment. “I have no idea how long this will--”

“I figured,” you whisper. “That AI, does it have --ahh, I am just so warm and so, god, hang on-- night vision?”

It takes an annoyingly long time for Steve to figure out what you’re asking. “I don’t think so. It monitors everyone, so if one of us gets so hot we need medical attention--”

“Excuse me, but you’ve been that hot since the 40’s!” you interrupt, adding, “You mean you don’t have an override that comes with your rank, or…”

It’s absurd, the way he’s jacking himself off and holding a conversation. “I, ah, turned it off. In case I asked for something inappropriate while my thinking was impaired.”

You sound affectionately amused as you say, “Oh no! Steve, your thinking was already impaired!”

“Yeah, I’m seeing that now.”

“Oh.”

This new tone of yours goes straight to his cock, and Steve just leans over and thrusts into his hand a few times, the ecstasy from each squeeze washing over him in waves. It seems even better than before, but somehow not painfully so.

He recovers enough coherence to say, “What is it?”

“This is-- oh. We might have some data for your other Avengers, here.”

“It’s better now, isn’t it?” Steve pants out.

“Yes!”

Your voice throbs with approval, and he throws out his free hand, grabbing at the sheet to hold on as another orgasm rocks through him.

“Wow, did that send you over?” you ask, sounding impressed.

“It’s dark, but I still see fireworks,” he jokes, immediately wishing he his need-fuzzed brain hadn’t chosen that word. The number of ‘Captain America’ fireworks jokes he’s heard over the past year…

“You know the way to a woman’s ego, telling her you’re seeing stars and she hasn’t even touched you!” you say in an affected, sultry tone. “That’s, god, I’m such a mess. That’s my ‘lounge singer’ voice after I’ve had a few drinks. Don’t get to use it much.”

“So both of us have a not-so-secret identity?”

The bed shakes, presumably with your laughter, and that both sharpens and magnifies Steve’s arousal in the oddest way, more similar to the beginning, when he’d wanted to protect you as much as he’d wanted to touch.

“I hope you don’t mind, but my back is killing me,” you say. Steve doesn’t understand what you mean until your bare leg sweeps across his outstretched arm.

Immediately, instinctively, he clasps it, and both of you suck in a breath. The all-consuming pleasure he’d felt touching himself was nothing compared to this. Before he can realize what he’s doing, what it means, Steve’s climbing up onto the bed, following the contour of your naked leg up as he goes.

“ Steve,” you groan out, and the hint of hesitation in your voice fists his hand against your hip.

“Do you want me to stop?” he forces out through clenched teeth.

“Absolutely not,” you moan, your hand finding his and tugging.

Next chapter...

#allcapsbingo2023 #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #captain america x reader #captain america smut #captain america x f!reader #steve rogers x f!reader #captain america x you #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #mcu smut #mcu fanfiction #sex pollen #humor #romance

506 notes · View notes

flowersandbigteeth · 1 year

Note

Would you consider doing a fic about a unicorn? One of the few remaining. Who is obsessed with you. Follows you and scares persuers away. Haughty and possessive ethereal and charming. I you're his and if he has to keep you captive to help you see that he's your mate, he will.

I love unicorns!!! I was never a horse girl, but unicorns I can get down with. <3

Word Count: 4k

Ainsel (Unicorn) x F Reader

W: minor character murder, light kidnapping, yandere behavior, sfw yandere fluff

“Ainsel, pay attention,” the unicorn’s father growled as his eyes drifted over the display, “do you want navy or white?”

Ainsel sighed, blinking his bright blue eyes slowly.

“I don’t care, father,” he said, “just pick something.”

His father turned on him impatiently.

“This is important Ainsel,” he snapped, “you are one of the last marriageable unicorns on the planet. You need to be serious about choosing a wife. The Embry’s have one of the only female unicorn daughters in existence. You have to make a good impression.”

He rolled his eyes.

“If she is one of the last, why should it matter?” he huffed, “we don’t really have a choice do we? I marry her and have as many babies as possible, or else. It shouldn’t matter what I look like.”

His father pinched his lips into a fine line.

“There are other males interested in her,” he went on, “if you don’t make a good impression she’ll choose another and there won't be any other options.”

Ainsel shrugged carelessly.

“I could marry a human,” he said, “they will birth a unicorn baby.”

His father took in a sharp breath.

“You will not marry a human,” he snarled, “I won’t have our bloodline sullied with human genes. We’ve been full blooded unicorns for generations! A half human baby will have weak magic…then what if the next generation copulates with a human? And the next? We’ll be diluted to nothing.”

Ainsel had heard this speech a hundred times before, from both his father and mother, but the truth was he couldn’t care less the purity of his bloodline. Especially if he had to marry a mare he hardly knew. He’d seen pictures of Elaine, but she didn’t stir his blood. He hated his parents for forcing this on him. He wanted to live his own life…make his own choices. He wanted to be happy, not a miserable baby maker, shoving his half limp cock into someone he had no interest in to produce heirs.

“I’m sorry it’s taking so long,” you apologized, entering the large dressing room where the two wealthy unicorns were looking at suits, “Mr. Scott had to take a call, but I can help you. Here are the other options he wanted you to try.”

You hung up a powder blue suit and a cool gray one on the rack for them to look at.

Ainsel was not looking at the suits, however, he was looking at you.

His father grumbled a bit under his breath about having been waiting forever, but turned his attention to the powder blue suit.

“I think this one is best,” he said, pulling it off the rack and holding it up to examine the stitching.

“What do you think, miss…?” Ainsel asked, hoping you would give him your name.

You cleared your throat a bit nervously. Your job was usually tailoring the suits, not selling them.

“(Y/N) and personally I think the white one will have the most impact, but it should reflect your taste, not mine. Any suit will look its best when the wearer is confident and comfortable in it.”

He couldn’t help but smile at your sweet, full cheeks and bright, sparkling eyes.

“You're the expert,” he said, taking in the flattering little paper bag pants and white blouse you were wearing. You looked so neat and tidy with your hair swept away from your face. He couldn’t help but think you were adorable.

You bit your bottom lip, considering the suits you’d brought in very carefully, wrinkling your brow just a little. The gesture made his cock stiffen in his pants as he imagined that little wrinkle between your eyes as he made you cum over and over again.

“I just think you can’t go wrong with a white suit. Especially if you want to stand out. It looks clean and eye-catching without being tacky.”

He only half heard what you were saying, his attention on the way your lips moved. He envisioned them stretched around his cock and had to step forward and angle his body away from you to pretend he was examining the white suite, so he could adjust his pants.

“Well what do you think?” his father huffed impatiently, “I don’t have all day.”

“I’ll go with the white one,” he said.

His father looked relieved.

“Alright,” the elder unicorn turned his attention to you, “Mr. Scott knows my account. Just charge whatever else he needs to that. I have other things to do.”

He glanced back at his son as he made his way out of the dressing room.

“Don’t be late for dinner!” he snapped and marched out, leaving the two of you alone.

“I can help you get dressed,” you said after a moment of silence, “once I’ve taken the measurements for the tailoring, we can look at a tie and shoes.”

Ainsel was happy to undress for you, eager to show off his assets. He knew he was beautiful, all unicorns were. He had a tall, lithe body packed with firm, corded muscles. Women fell over themselves for him whenever he went out. You couldn’t help but blush when he yanked the t-shirt he was wearing over his head, revealing his sculpted chest.

“You look like a model,” you sputtered to your own embarrassment.

“I mean- the suit is going to look great on you,” you said quickly.

Ainsel gave you a bright white smile and flexed his muscles just slightly hoping to draw even more stuttering words from your mouth.

With warm cheeks you quickly turned your attention to getting the suit ready instead of watching him undress. When you turned back around, he was only wearing gray boxer briefs that left nothing to the imagination, you could see the very clear imprint of his rather large cock, pressed against them and you blushed again.

“Um…” you muttered, almost dropping the black button up shirt in your hand.

There was a long silence while you took his body in, which he ate up, grinning at you from ear to ear.

“The shirt?” he asked playfully, stepping forward and brushing it with his fingertips, making sure to graze your smaller hands.

“Right!” you said, “um, let me help you.”

He liked the feeling of your warm fingers just barely touching his skin as you hurried to pull it over his shoulders and let you button it up for him. Not because he couldn’t, but because he liked your scent drifting up to him. You smelled sweet, like peaches.

“Um…it looks like we’ll have to take it in a little,” you mumbled, as you helped him into the pants, then the jacket, “but it looks good on you.”

His clean scent, something like spicy ginger and citrus, made you feel a little dizzy. You tried to brush the feeling away and focus on taking his measurements and securing the areas with pins that you would need to work on. Your cheeks heated when you bent in front of him to work on his inseam.

“My family is new to the area. What do you do for fun, when you’re not working?” he asked suddenly and you glanced up at him to find his bright, almost glowing, blue eyes focused on you. He was so beautiful, it was hard to believe he was real. His deep olive skin had a bit of a sheen to it, as if he was dusted in fine glitter and his raven hair reflected rainbow colors in the light.

You shrugged.

“I’m probably not the right person to ask,” you said, returning your attention to your work, “I’m a bit of a homebody except tonight, I guess.”

“What are you doing tonight?” he asked.

“Oh…um, my friend invited me out to a new bar. It’s the grand opening. I wouldn’t normally go, but he’s the owner…so…a few of us are going to support him.”

Ainsel didn’t like “he”, but he schooled his expression.

“Can I come?” he asked with the confidence of a man who never got turned down.

You blinked for a second unsure what to say.

“I’ve been incredibly bored,” he went on, “I don’t know anyone here my age…”

You nodded as you stood, not able to come up with a reason he couldn’t come.

“Sure…I guess. I don’t know how good it will be…” you mumbled and he reached a hand out to you.

“Give me your phone, I’ll put in my number,” he said, so you fished it out of your pocket and handed it to him.

“I’ll pick you up,” he said as he tapped his number into your phone and sent himself a text message from it, “just send me your address.”

You were too flustered by the ethereal unicorn wanting to go somewhere with you, your common sense had gone out the window. No one who looked like him had ever paid you any attention before, so when he handed it back, you put in your address and hit send. The name on the contact just said Ainsel with a unicorn emoji.

“(Y/N), I need you in the back!” Mr. Scott, barked in his gruff voice as he marched back into the room, “I’ll take over from here.”

“Of course!” you squeaked and scurried off before even saying goodbye.

—

You groaned at yourself in the mirror as you tried to put eyeliner on, finally giving up and just going with mascara and some dewy looking blush. You weren’t sure if this was supposed to be a date or if Ainsel really just wanted someone to show him around, so you struggled over what to wear.

You didn’t want to look like you tried too hard, but you also wanted him to think you looked nice. You tried to shake the thought from your head that it was a date. No one like him would want to date you, you thought. Still, you ended up picking a cute little vintage dress that matched your eyes and some comfortable low heels. You jumped when the doorbell rang, hurrying to smooth down the flyaways in your hair before answering the door.

Ainsel’s eyes drifted down your body and back up again when he stood before you and in his hands was a thick bouquet of assorted flowers in a glass vase.

“I didn’t know what was your favorite,” he said, handing it to you, “so I told the florist to use them all.”

He smiled at you, looking you up and down again.

“You look beautiful,” he said, his voice low and a bit husky.

“Oh.” was all you managed to get out, as you accepted the vase with shaking hands.

You turned to find a place for them and he followed you inside.

“This is cute,” he said, sauntering around your living room while you pushed some things off of your coffee table to make room for the flowers.

“It’s nothing special…I got a deal,” you mumbled, eager to shoo him out of your messy apartment, “we should go before it gets late.”

“Of course,” he said, placing a hand gently on your lower back as he guided you out of the door.

You swallowed thickly at the contact.

You made polite conversation in the car, asking how long he’d been in the area and where he moved from. The conversation came easily. Ainsel was charming and casual. He put you at ease, even though you were still stunned he wanted to come out with you. By the time you reached the restaurant he had you giggling over his silly stories about growing up a unicorn.

“Who is this?!” your friend Leslie asked with a knowing smile when you walked in the door with Ainsel on your arm.

Before you could introduce him, he stuck out his hand and told her his name. Your girlfriends were smitten, all asking him questions about his life and being a unicorn. You tried to stuff the little bit of jealousy down that they were giving him so much attention, but who wouldn’t want to talk to him? He was handsome and good at conversation, if not a bit aloof. He spoke with his head held high, always with his hand resting on your lower back, as if you were already a couple.

Ainsel couldn’t help but keep his hands on you. Truly, speaking with your friends was tiresome. He’d rather be alone, talking to you more, but he knew women paid careful attention to how their potential mate interacted with their friends. He wanted to make a good impression to get their approval, nothing more.

He only let you go when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Ainsel slipped out of the busy dining room to the small hallway where the bathrooms were to take the call.

“Where are you?!” his father snarled into the phone, “Elaine has been here waiting for you for an hour!”

Ainsel let out an impatient breath.

“I’m out, father,” he said, sounding bored, “I won't make it tonight.”

“You are seriously standing up one of the last female unicorns on the planet?” his father hissed back.

“Yes.” he said plainly, which prompted his father to devolve into a tantrum cursing him, that he’d ever had him, and how he planned on cutting him off if he didn’t drop what he was doing and make his way home immediately. Ainsel finally just hung up the phone. It buzzed immediately as his father tried to call him back, but he just turned the vibration off and sauntered back into the dining room.

A growl bubbled in his throat at what he saw.

Your friend, Josh, who owned the restaurant had you wrapped in a big hug, lifting you off of your feet.

“Um…yes, it’s very nice, Josh, I like the decor,” you said, taking a step away from him when he put you down.

“I’m just so happy you could make it,” he beamed.

Ainsel shouldered past him, grabbing you by your elbow and pulling you against him possesively. Josh’s face fell just slightly at the contact, but he forced his practiced smile back on his lips.

“Who’s this?” he asked tightly.

“Oh, this is Ainsel. We met at-” you started to say, but Ainsel cut you off.

“I’m (Y/N)’s date,” he said, a smug aura hovering around him as he pulled you even closer and tucked you under his arm.

Your body tingled under his touch and your heart skipped in your chest.

“Oh…” Josh said, “I didn’t know you were seeing someone.”

“Well we just me-” you again started to say and again Ainsel cut you off with a kiss on your temple.

“I’m already starting to think of her as mine,” he said, squeezing your shoulder and making all of your girlfriends giggle and shoot you mischievous smiles.

You blanched at such a direct declaration, completely unsure what to say. Your mouth just hung open as Josh glared at Ainsel. He grabbed your chin lightly with his long fingers so that you were looking at him.

“Why don’t we get out of here?” he asked, “I’ve been wanting to show you my other form.”

You blinked up at him, both incredibly flattered and confused.

“Um…but we only just-,” you mumbled as he winked at your girlfriends and told them goodnight, talking right over you while he guided you out of the bar, his arm still wrapped around your shoulder.

“Bars are no fun,” he told you as he stuffed you back into his sports car, “let’s go someplace quiet.”

You were a bit miffed at leaving so early, but you were curious about his unicorn form, so you didn’t say a word as he started up the engine and drove the two of you to a pretty spot overlooking the city.

“This is much better,” he beamed, opening your door for you and helping you out of the car.

He pulled you into a clear spot and winked at you.

“I don’t show just anyone my unicorn form,” he said with a smile, “this is just for you to see.”

Your cheeks burned as he took a few steps away from you. You blinked and there he was, a lovely black unicorn with a pretty horn, reminding you of the inside of an abalone shell sticking out of his forehead.

He dipped his head and stepped towards you, encouraging you to touch him. You smoothed your slightly shaking hand over his cheek and ran your fingers through his silky jet mane. His eyes were the same illuminated blue. He bent down at the knee in front of you and it took a moment to realize he wanted you to climb on his back.

You carefully climbed on, making sure you didn’t tug at his mane too much as you straddled him. When you were comfortably seated he walked with a slow saunter, so similar to the way he walked as a human, into the sparse forest nearby.

The night was a bit chilly, but Ainsel was very, very warm, so you found yourself leaning down to press more of your body against him. This closeness pleased Ainsel immensely.

You had no way of knowing, but unicorns long ago would steal pretty maidens like you with just the tactic he was using then. As his magic surrounded you, invisible to you, you felt yourself getting a bit sleepy, relaxing even further against him. Soon your eyelids slipped shut and you fell asleep with a soft sigh.

–

“Mmmm,” you murmured as you slowly woke.

Firm fingers were carding your hair, which felt nice. You sighed and a deep chuckle hit your ears. Forcing your eyes open you met Ainsel’s blue irises looking at you.

“Have a nice nap?” he asked, with a smirk.

Blinking you looked around, trying to get your bearings. You were laying in a large soft bed in a pretty room that had definitely seen the touch of a professional designer.

“What- where am i?” you asked, groggily, sitting up.

Ainsel cupped your cheek gently before he answered.

“My bedroom,” he said, “exactly where you should be.”

“Where I- what?” you stuttered, trying to make your sleepy mind catch up with Ainsel’s words.

He scooted closer to you on the fluffy comforter that he’d tucked you under.

“You’re mine (Y/N),” he purred.

You blinked at him, confused.

“What do you mean by that?” you ventured and he pulled your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles, before turning it over and dropping light kisses over your palm.

“I want to be with you always,” he explained as his blue eyes flickered up to meet yours, “I don’t want anyone else to touch you. I don’t want you to smile for anyone but me.”

“Ainsel,” you said, letting out a nervous laugh, “that’s impossible…of course I’m going to smile at my friends.”

His brow furrowed.

“Why?” he snapped, clutching your hand tighter, “I’ve worked so hard to keep you. Done things…”

He trailed off, kissing the inside of your wrist.

“Done what?” you asked.

At that he brightened, eager to show off. Scooping you up in his arms he walked with a clip out of his bedroom. The mansion he lived in was beautiful and modern with lots of glass and chrome. He carried you down a flight of stairs and to what appeared to be an indoor swimming pool. Only the water was pink and something…some things…were floating on its surface. Your heart turned to ice when you realized what you were looking at.

You recognized one of the bodies floating in the pool… Ainsel’s father, the man who you’d met just hours before was clearly dead, his face marked with deep cuts. You glanced up to see the jagged hole in the glass ceiling where the two of his parents had fallen through. They must have broken their necks hitting the ceiling before they even made it to the pool.

“What have you done?” you whimpered, your voice wan.

Ainsel kissed your forehead.

“They wouldn’t let us be together,” he said, with clear disgust in his voice, “but it’s all better now. I think I’ll bury them beneath the rose bushes. My mother always liked roses.”

Your instinct was to escape and you thrashed in Ainsel’s arms, beating at his chest with your fists.

“Shhh…shhh,” he hummed at you, “I didn’t mean to upset you, love. I should have guessed you’re sensitive…that’s sweet…Just calm down. I’ll take care of everything. You’ll never have another worry as long as you live.”

Your breath kicked up and your heart pounded in your chest.

“Ainsel,” you gasped, staring at him, your face cold with fear, “you’re- you’re a murderer!”

He clucked at you, pressing you into his warm chest.

“That’s such an ugly word. I don’t want to hear you say it again,” he corrected you while he stroked your hair, quite pleased with himself, “I did what I had to do to make sure we could be together. My parents were horrible people…the world won’t miss them.”

“B-but…” you stuttered.

“None of that,” he chided, silencing you with a heavy kiss.

You froze against him, letting his mouth move over yours. His lips were warm, supple and you wanted so badly to give in. He was doing something to you, your body relaxing and your eyes fluttering as you tasted the mint of his mouth on your tongue.

“You’re going to be a good little mate, aren’t you?” he asked, pulling away, “I won't have to lock you in the basement, will I?”

You quickly shook your head, you didn’t want to be locked anywhere.

He twisted his mouth at you.

“Say, ‘No, my love.’” he ordered, his voice firm and with a bit more gravel than his usual tone.

“Um…no…my love,” you repeated quietly.

He rewarded you with a big smile.

“You are a good little mate!” he beamed.

You couldn’t stop your body from trembling in his arms. Would he kill you too if you didn’t behave?

“Poor thing, you’re cold,” he pouted, “don’t worry I’ll keep you warm!”

He carried you back to his bedroom, deciding to deal with the corpses in his pool later and set you down. Manipulating your stunned body like a doll, he unzipped your dress, letting the silky fabric pool at your feet. Pulling you back into his arms he tucked you under the large, warm comforter sliding in after you. His strong fingers made their way all over your body, greedily groping the bare flesh. He lay behind you, spooning you next to his larger form, while he sprinkled dappled kisses over your shoulders and neck.

“That feels nice, doesn’t it?” he asked, lightly nibbling your shoulder.

Terrified, you could only hum in agreement.

“We’re going to have a long, perfect life together, aren’t we little mate?” he asked, his breath stirring the bits of loose hair tucked behind your ear and making tingles shoot up your spine.

You gasped on your words, scared and unsure what to say.

“Just say ‘yes, my love’,” he whispered.

“Yes, my love,” you finally agreed after a moment.

“Good, little mate,” he purred, “you’re so obedient…we’re going to get along just fine.”

#unicorn #unicorn x reader #monster x reader #monster fluff #yandere male #yandere fluff #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere #male yandere #sfw fluff #fantasy fluff #fantasy romance #yandere romantic

592 notes · View notes

obriengf · 1 year

Note

17 and Stewart!! I can picture that one with him perfectly!

get cute with meet-ugly blurbs - requests closed! 17: “we make contact before trying to steal the last seat on the subway/bus/train and I end up in your lap and fuck you, I’m going to stay here because I’ve had a really long day and this seat was mine” Note: I am very well aware that this isn't the best thing...

SEATBELT

Your vision line was impaired for a brief moment, but you could still feel his eyes on you; the way you were watched closely, your every move waited upon and calculated as if you were a puzzle that he was trying to solve. Your observations were just as canny, if not more, as you took a moment to take in your surroundings within an enclosed cabin of the subway to San Fransisco. The afternoon commute was busier than usual - passengers taking up every minuscule inch of occupancy, bodies feeding into the claustrophobia of limited seating. It was amazing how a sea of people from every platform could filter into such a small space so easily. Fresh air was non-existent and it caused your heart to thump and brows to furrow in distress. The knuckles of your right hand were screaming in pain from clutching the hanging strap too tight, and every bump the cabin passed caused your stature to falter and your footing to become unbalanced. Your time at work was bad enough as it was, but standing and waiting for a seat overtook every stressful event of your day with ease. Your eyes fluttered around for a vacant spot, but were met again with the large brown gaze that hid behind glass frames - the first time you saw them, your cheeks grew flushed, until you realised their motive. The owner, a man with matching annoyance clutching at every facial feature, was making sure that you didn't get the first seat before him. Smug bastard.

It was as if he could read your mind; his body stiffening, ready to pounce despite how his shoulder ached with a heavy bag that slung deeply. His day, too, was challenging - trying to meet quotas on a mind-blank of ideas wasn't something he often faced, yet it had been his daily norm for nearly a week. He desired to sit, to rest his legs and to take that relieving deep breath that was much warranted when the evening came. Nobody else in your peripherals was awake enough for a battle of comfort, which made this fight fit best for the quickest and most cunning.

The next stop was approaching and people began to stand as they awaited their further commute home. Your surroundings shifted, bodies repositioning as they slid around you like Tetris - confined tensions forcing your eyes closed as you drew a deep breath. You loved your job, truly, but the hour commute to and from was less than ideal. You were forced in between strangers and moments away from your throat closing with nervous energy before the train finally began slowing its pace, and you released relieving exhale of panicked breath in time with the opening of your carriage doors.

Congestion was imminent, however, your brief layover finally allowed carriage breathing room - and the possibility of the much-awaited available spot. As people began to vacate, you spotted a free seat and it was as if your heart sang in solace with laser-eyed focus and feet ready to lunge. You held on to your bag tightly as you pressed forward, small pleasantries slipping past your lips as you dodged other passengers.

You could feel the soft seating before you even sat down, you were dreaming of it for the past thirty minutes - but the plushness of the seat wasn't what you expected when you realised that the man with the glasses and observant eyes was where you managed to place yourself. Your own eyes widened in shock, voice unable to emit after you glanced down to his cocky smirk.

With a small growl, your brows furrowed at him, "No, no! This is my seat, go somewhere else."

"Sorry sweetheart, I was here first." His voice was mocking, a daring tone that effortlessly portrayed just how much he didn't care. To further affirm his unwillingness to move, the stranger's body sunk snugly against the padded bench with a loud and restful sigh. His competitiveness continued to shine through with a cocky quirk of his lips, "I'm not giving this up."

Fire burned in your eyes, an anger brewing that started much earlier in your day. You were exhausted and irritated, and games were far from what you were prepared to face at this moment. A pout prompted your lips to purse and brows to drop, and for a second you felt like a four-year-old standing their ground during a tantrum.

"Well, I'm not, either."

The man just nodded, quick to ignore your presence as he pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and began immersing himself in the small screen. You couldn't decide what was more awkward - the fact that he wasn't acknowledging your place on his lap or the way that you were sitting to the curve of his knees in absolute unsteadiness. One rickety bump and you'd find yourself on the floor.

Fate wasn't on your side; a running gag that life decided to throw at you once again today, in the form of the old train rocking and your legs sliding away from the glasses-wearing stranger. You expected the embarrassment of numerous eyes watching you collide with the cabin floor, but it never came as arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you backwards.

It took a second for you to realise that the outside of your thigh was snug against the stranger's stomach, his hands now flat over your side and against the bottom curve of your ribs as he held you close to him. He was your human seatbelt, holding you back and keeping you safe. It provoked warmth to shoot through your veins, to awaken the butterflies in your stomach and to colour the rosiness in your cheeks. It felt nice, despite the fact that he was a stranger with a stupid smug smile and filled with utter cockiness.

"Woah, nearly lost you there." He mumbled, a softness peeking through. It was easy to follow the caramel swirl of his eyes as they gazed over your face for any sort of discomfort, but you both seemed in the clear, and his shoulders dropped in relief. They looked down for a brief second before he smiled again, "Us googlers gotta stick together, you know."

Your head tilted to the side, every ounce of your focus now directed only toward him, "What?"

"Your lanyard." Hesitantly, he pulled a hand away from your side and tugged at the multicoloured fabric dangling from your neck, a plastic key card with a four-month-old photo of you sitting to the side. When he saw you following his touch, he hastily found his own within his zipped-up jumper and dangled it between you both. "Got a matching one. We're practically family."

Black letters caught your eyes first, the name of the man filling in another puzzle piece as you said it aloud, "Stuart Twombly, software development."

"That's me." He replied, a wink dropping behind his glasses and hold absentmindedly tightening as another small bump disrupted the cabin. Everything was coming together for you; no wonder he seemed full of himself, a handful of people you know from that department certainly have a big head and a matching ego. Your mind awoke from your thoughts when you felt your lanyard tugging again. Stuart hummed, "Y/N L/N, accounting. Interesting."

"How so?" You said quickly, offence already settling in your voice.

"You just got to be really smart to be an accountant for one of the biggest companies in the world."

Your head shook as your body readjusted yourself on his lap, "I'm not an accountant... yet. It's just a paid internship. But I'm sure you don't want to hear about any of that - "

"An internship?" Stuart's eyes lit up, his smile genuine as the corners of his lips lifted, "I know a thing or two about internships, try me."

#dylan o'brien x reader #stuart twombly #stuart twombly x reader #the internship #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan o'brien fic #stuart twombly fic #stuart twombly imagine #meetugly blurbs

187 notes · View notes

daddypriceugh · 9 months

Text

Favourite nurse part. 2

First of all I want to apologise for the late update. I got the flu 2 weeks ago and wasn't motivated to write anything.

I'm really sorry for the wait but I made this chapter longer :) it's smut <3 I'm not good at writing it but I tried. Have fun!!!

Tw: smut

*****************************

"It won't fit Simon"

"I'll make it fit"

You may ask how you got into this situation, well let's see:

♤Flashback♤

"One shot for me and the lady" A voice said over the loud music in the pub. A voice you would recognise anywhere: it was Gho- Simon. But he didn't wear a mask this time.

It's been two week since you last saw him because he actually didn't turn up at the hospital. To your suprise.

You had kind of missed him. Especially the way his eyes would follow every move you would make. It made you nervous but also aroused. Would he look the same at you when naked?

You were ripped out of your thoughts by the shot being placed on the table in front of you.

"Didn't think I would see you here, Doc"

A small laugh escaped your red tinted lips.

"Well I love surprising people I guess" He hums in agreement.

"You were able to stay unharmed. Got my respect"

He chuckled at your words, gulping down his shot.

"Well I was forbidden to come back, wasn't I" he turned his head in your direction, eyes staring into yours. There was something calm in them but also something you couldn't decipher what it was.

A small formed on your face. "I didn't forbid it, I just don't want to see you hurt. Can't judge me for doing my job"

He opened his mouth to answer but a chair was suddenly thrown through the bar. A fight broke out.

Simon had grabed your hand in less than a second and pulled you to the exit. The fresh and cold night air hit your face.

"You wanna go to my flat?"

His random question shocked you for a moment. Did he want to continue the talk? Or maybe...

"Yeah sure" ~~~~~~~~~~~ You now sat on his couch while ge was grabbing some wine.

His flat was a bit bland. There weren't many pictures or plants, the furniture was modern yet classic. It all suited him well.

He came back with two glasses of wine and sat down next to you, putting the glasses on the table.

It was quiet.

You looked at him, only to see him already starring at you. Fuck was he hot. You could already feel yourself getting warm. Well more like your vagina.

A minute went by and none of you broke the eye contact, and you couldn't take this tension anymore. 'Fuck it' you thought and grabbed his face between your hands to smash your lips on his.

He didn't seem surprised because he instantly kissed back. The once gentle kiss became faster and more desperate. You lifted yourself on his lap to grind against him, feeling his hard erection in his jeans.

He let out a soft moan at your movement, putting his hands on your waist to help you guide.

"Do you want this?" He asked with a breathy voice. You nodded yes and pulled your shirt off.

You smirked a little at his reaction, knowing it was because of the lack of your bra.

"Dirty girl" he growled, his mouth latching onto one nipple, pulling and biting it a bit. You moaned in response, quickening your pace.

Once he let go of your breast, his hands wrapped around you to lift you up. He carried you to his bedroom, throwing you on the bed.

"Never thought I would see you like that, doc" "Shut up and fuck me already" He laughed at your response.

"Your wish be my comand"

Your pants and panties were down in a second and his fingers were feeling your wet lips. You bit back a moan at the feeling.

"So wet for me already tz tz. Don't even have to prepare you, mh?"

He slipped two fingers inside your folds and groaned. He then began to move them in a slow pace.

"Fuck your so tight, my love. So thight and wet for my fucking cock"

His fingers sped up and he added another on inside. He curled them a bit and looked at you to see your reaction. You were a moaning mess under him. Sweat dripped down your forehead and your nipples were hard. You felt your first orgasm nearing.

"C'mon baby cum for me. I can feel you clenching"

You came on comand and let out a loud moan. You never came that fast before.

He pulled off his shirt and pants to reveal his throbbing member. And damn was it big. Too big. It was long and thick, a bit curved to the right. Twp long veins went from the tips to the bottom. He looked fucking delicious.

Simon crawled on top of you and kissed you. It was gently and full of passion.

"Do you really want this? We can stop if you want" he said as he broke the kiss apart.

Your heart swelled at his worry.

"I want it. I want it with you Simon" You whispered. A smiles formed on his face.

"Then prepare yourself to get ruined"

He planted on hand on the right side of your head and the other went downwards to his dick.

He started rubbing it over your pussy, creaming himself in your juices. You moaned out in anticipation.

♤flackback ends♤

"It won't fit Simon"

"I'll make it fit"

At that he pushed his whole length into your hole. You half screamed at the intrusion, wrapping your legs around his waist, nails clawing into his back.

"You're so fuckin' tight love I can feel you trying to clench around my cock" He groaned.

You stayed in this position and he waited for you to give him the signal to continue. You did.

He put his hand on your waist and stared fucking you at a normal pace. Yet you could swear you felt every single edge and vein of his dick. It felt amazing.

After a while he decided to speed the whole thing up and started rubbing your clit. The moans that left your mouth only seemed to encourage him even more to move quicker.

But he himself wasn't quiet either. He let our small groand and huffs while pumping his dick into you. Minutes went by and you noticed his moved becoming more frantic.

"Fuck I'm close, where do you want it?"

"Inside pl-please"

You could also feel you high coming nearer ever time he ramed into you.

And there it was. Your walls clenched around him and your stomach thighend. You came with a scream which was half muffeled by his mouth capturing yours.

"Fuck sweetheart y-you made a mess" he laughs while trying to chase his own orgasm. He sped his pace up again.

"Fuck fuck fuck"

He then came with a groan and nearly collapsed on you. He pulled out and layed down besides you.

After some seconds of peace you were pulled into his arms, lips touching your hairline.

"You did so well for me. I'm proud of you, my girl"

"Weren't bad yourself, big guy" You said while smiling.

He laughed breathlessly and slowly got up. Your puzzled look at his action made him open his mouth. "I'm gonna grab a towel and clean you up okay? After that we can sleep a bit"

You nodded tiredly "Yeah sound nice" Simon bended over to give you one last kiss before leaving the room.

You breathed out in satisfaction. "Fucking hell"

#ghost x reader #cod mw2 #cod x reader #call of duty #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #cod smut

84 notes · View notes

malum-forev · 1 year

Note

Secret relationship with Rogers!reader or famous!reader please🙏🏻

Hi hiii, thank you for your ask! I really really liked how this turned out, and I hope you do too!

It was no secret Bucky is a private person. He’d once pushed Torres off a plane for asking him what his plans for the weekend were, there was that time Bucky added 200 push-ups to the training routine after an agent asked him why he’d cancelled last week’s session, and finally, the day Bucky ran over Sam’s foot with his bike because he joked about it being Bucky’s turn to host Friday night dinner- they didn’t even have a Friday night dinner! Bucky is private private.

Whispers about him dating someone started when he put in time for a vacation. The man hadn’t missed work in years, decades!

“Where are you going?” Sam asked, nudging his friends shoulder as they watched the agents spar. Bucky only growled in response.

“You can’t expect me to not be curious!” Sam pressed on. “You’ve never even asked for a weekend off, and now suddenly you’re leaving for two weeks!”

Bucky crossed his arms. “I didn’t come into work that one time, two years ago.”

“You broke your leg!” Sam rolled his eyes. “Hospital visits don’t count as time off. And even then, you only missed a day!”

“It’s none of your business.” Bucky shrugged his shoulders.

“Can you at least bring me a souvenir?” Sam batted his eyelashes. “Please?”

An uncharacteristic- and honestly, terrifying- smirk appeared on Bucky’s mouth. “I know just the thing to bring you.”

Two weeks later, Bucky came back with a nice tan and a gallon sized bag of sand, which he dumped all over Sam’s desk.

“I’m back.” Bucky smiled.

Three months after his vacation, Bucky was met with the slam of a magazine on his desk.

“A ha!” Sam boomed. “I knew there was something fishy about you!”

Bucky glanced once at the gossip magazine, uninterested, sipping his coffee. “Am I supposed to care about this?”

Sam tapped on the small picture of Bucky on the cover, the headline read: Winter Soldier? More like Winter Cinephile? A source close to the Super Soldier tells us all about Bucky Barnes’ favorite movies.

Bucky was covering most of his face on the picture as he excited the back entrance of a movie theater. What caught his eye was the small sliver of leg that was cut from the photo. Someone walking behind him.

“Last time I checked, it’s not illegal to go to the movies.” Bucky eyed Sam from the ring of his coffee cup, hiding a smile.

“You’re being weird-“ Sam narrowed his eyes. “weirder than normal.”

But the thing that made Sam go insane was the fact that Bucky was wearing a suit. A suit! With a tie and everything! Sam’s eyes just about popped out of their sockets when he saw Bucky walk into the Stark Fundraiser.

“You’re here?” Sam’s eyebrows knit together.

Bucky ordered a single malt whiskey, trying to loosen his starched shirt’s collar. “I told you last week I was coming.”

The crease between Captain America’s eyebrows deepened. “I thought you were kidding, I thought it was a joke!”

“Well, I’m here.” Bucky said, leaning his back on the bar. His eyes scanning the room.

It was filled to the brim with A list people from all around the world. Hollywood’s finest actors, politicians, royalty, philanthropists. Tony Stark would be proud of the guest list.

Where are you, where are you? Bucky thought.

Suddenly, the large double doors opened and there you were. You waltzed in, your dress fit like a glove, highlighting all of your best features. All your features are your best features. You could hear Bucky say.

You floated through the room with your publicist on your left and your agent on your right. You craned your neck left and right, trying to find him- your eyes met his celeste orbs. A calm sea wanting to bring you in.

Bucky sent you a half nod, not wanting to bring attention to him and you responded by tapping the top of your thigh three times. A secret signal the two of you had made up.

Torres appeared next to Bucky and ordered a double shot of vodka neat. He huffed three times, trying to get all the nervousness out of his body.

“You look like you’re about to pass out.” Sam laughed.

Torres’ eyes were glued to your body. “This is my time to shine.”

Bucky’s eyebrows rose for a second, looking between you and his coworker.

“I’m going to ask her out.” Torres gulped.

“You are going to ask her out.” Sam laughed. “She’s an easy 10 and you’re a-“

“You’re a five, and that’s reaching.” Bucky patted Torres’ back, giving him a sympathetic smile.

Torres looked at the two men angrily. “Chicks dig the soldier look, I’m rugged!”

“Sorry man, not happening.” Bucky shrugged his shoulders.

Torres snorted. “Like you’d have a chance with her.”

“You’ve got a mysterious vibe but, she’s an A list actor.” Sam threw his head back with laughter. “She’d never look your way.”

A pride filled smile sneaked its way onto Bucky’s face as he saw you chatting away with other famous people in the room. “Let’s make this interesting. If I get a date out of her, you two bozos pick my lunch up every day for a month.”

Sam and Torres looked at each other once and doubled over, howling with laughter.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Better yet, if I get a kiss out of her you will do my laundry and file all of my paperwork for a month.”

“Deal.” Both men laughed.

“Can’t wait to see you get slapped around.” Sam yelled as Bucky walked towards you.

Sam and Torres waited eagerly, they watched as Bucky came up to you and tapped your shoulder. You turned around with a smile. Bucky nestled his head in your shoulder, his mouth close to your ear. They watched as you push him away playfully, giggling nervously with a flushed face, only to pull him closer. He took your hand in his and placed a kiss on your knuckles before lowering his hand to the small of your back. Bucky tipped you backwards holding your knee close to his hip and lowered his head. Smashing your lips together.

The ballroom became quiet around the two of you, low murmurs here and there. When you came back up, Bucky cleaned up the side of your mouth where your lipstick had smudged. He placed a sweet kiss on your cheek and turned back towards the bar.

“Close your mouths, you’ll catch flies.” Bucky said smiling.

“You-how-why?” Torres stuttered.

“We’re dating.” Bucky shrugged, taking another sip of his drink. “Coming on a year and a half now.”

“You’re dating her?” Sam asked, his eyes pingponging from your face and your body to his friend. “How? you’re so- you and she’s-“

“She’s amazing.” Bucky sighed, looking back at you.

You tried to concentrate on the person in front of you but Bucky’s never-ending stare made you nervous. When you finally turned to him, he tapped his thigh three times. I love you.

“You mean-“ Torres tried to get words out but he was too stunned.

“I mean,” Bucky said. “That purple mark just below her ear she’s trying to cover with makeup, is my work of art.”

“She’s mine.” Bucky growled, his eyes like bullets as he looked at Sam and Torres. “Understood?”

The two men nodded furiously.

“A month of not doing laundry or paperwork.” Bucky sighed with a smile. “A dream come true.”

Hi hiiii This is part of my 1k Celebration, if you like this please be sure to look at the Bingo Card and ask for a prompt! Love y'all <33

And you can find the Bingo master list and what prompts are still available here!

tagged: @kpopgirlbtssvt @shara-ne @namelesssaviour

332 notes · View notes

yunxi-11085 · 1 year

Text

foxian caelus (previous life) x Dan Heng

note ; (Dan Feng is Dan Heng's previous incarnation) he will be refered to as ying yue = his chinese pinyin

tw ; some of the characters may or may not be OOC I'm writing this sleep deprived no beta so good luck 🤞

it's been a week since I last opened Tumblr (ignore the times I went here to look at fics made by others instead)

if you didn't know already! foxians live 300-400 years and according to xianzhou standards; they're a short-lived species. fun fact : yukong is 246 years old meaning she's a kinda old lady now!

I don't know whether to refer caelus to his chinese pinyin name (qiong) like I would with Dan Heng's (ying yue) because I don't think readers would be familiar with it 🥹

let's start then??

"ying yue?" a familiar voice said, it was soothing to his ears as always.

"mhm?" the vidyadhara asked. looking up at the gold eyes of the foxian. sometimes— the dragon might find himself lost in those pretty, gleaming pupils.

"the tea is pleasant, truly isn't it?" the silver-haired man smiled. ying yue felt his heart flutter at that. it was no fair that foxians had the most beauty in all, or every species.

"of course, these are the new tea leaves that are popular as of now" the vidyadhara replied, tapping at the teacup. the foxian hummed, unconsciously his furry tail wagged while his eyes sparkled. it was no surprise when the latter absolutely adored the dragon.

the dragon followed the motion of the tail and smiled, it was adorable when foxians are excited.

qiong, smiled back. he leaned in, while his hands reached out to caress the latter on the cheek, the dragon leaned into the touch.

"it's no fair vidyadharas are so pretty" he mumbled aloud, the mentioned man laughed and replied "if vidyadharas are pretty, than foxians are heavenly"

the silver-haired flushed red at that comment, he huffed covered his face with his hand.

˚ · .

the two chatted on and on that time passed so fast, and it was already time to leave.

qiong mentioned he needed to do something, and no one should accompany him

"make sure you come back safe and sound, qiong"

"I will always come back silly" the foxian laughed like what the dragon had said was a joke.

but—

this time, he didn't come back

the vidyadhara could only wait centuries apon centuries— yet the only thing that remained was that charm. a small little charm that could only be hung on your necklace

˚ · .

a black haired man boarded the astral express, named Dan heng. he was quiet and reserved, and was very secretive about his past. he bore earrings with— a certain charm

when a silver-haired boy wakes up in the herta space station during a crisis,

Dan heng freezes for a second when he saw him— although Dan heng is reborn as well, he still has some memories of his past life. including ones of a certain silver-haired.

no, he shouldn't be thinking this right now. someone's life is at stake here. when he attempted CPR, before they even touched— he awoke

Dan Heng realizes—

caelus doesn't remember, he looks at Dan heng straight in the eye with no reaction and just curiousity— unlike Dan Heng's memories, where a long silver-haired foxian looked at him with affectionate eyes. calling out to him with a somber smile on his face.

he recalled that it was the last time he saw the silver-haired foxian

the more times they spend with each other, the more Dan heng wakes up in cold sweat when he recalls his past

in fact, these memories could mean something. Dan Heng felt his dragon instincts pop out more often than it should be, the times he had to swallow a growl when a stranger— leaned too close for his liking to caelus.

maybe this is something he could stop. but not when the two are alone in a room, the dark haired man couldn't help but bite and mark the smaller and take him as his own.

during the trip to xianzhou, when Dan heng reunited with the 3. march wanted to take pictures with a few props, it was a new stand he recalled that tingyun put up for trailblazers and travellers like luocha and the astral express.

"Dan heng?" he snapped out of his thoughts and looked at the person who called his name. march

"look at caelus! isn't he so cute?" he looked at caelus, who is now bearing— fox ears headband on his head.

he freezes, it's almost like a common occurance to remember his past life because of a certain silver-haired boy.

that day, only the silver-haired could comfort him

okay I might be going a little crazy but I saw a Twitter fanart and I had to write this

I think this just counts as imagines?? I don't have time to write a whole fic so here's smth ig😭 sorry if the pacing is weird I'm slepy

I might plan to write more for the foxian caelus x Dan Feng part because I felt like I wrote too little

189 notes · View notes

queers-gambit · 2 years

Text

Sweetest Devotion

[ part two ] [ alternate ending one: Kin Slayer ] [ series masterlist ]

prompt: exhausted by the war efforts, your husband does what he can to protect you. but maybe in the end, it'll be you who saves him.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!wife!reader

fandom: House of the Dragon

word count: 9.3k+

note: two parts because total word count was at 17k. also, this is the final, people!!

warnings: major book spoilers. cursing, some angst, some comfort, author projects a little, major alternate timeline ending. ❗️SPOILERS

The storm had followed Aemond home to wreck havoc over King's Landing, flooding the streets and homes in Flea Bottom and low bearing homes.

You weren't sure how long you sat in silence together, but your heart was weeping, and you had no earnest idea on how to move forward from this moment. Your baby brother, the sweet Prince Lucerys, had met his end from your husband's ruthless pursuit of revenge.

Though it was his dragon that did the slaying, he is still Vhagar's rider and wanted revenge; though he would've settled for an eye, the dragon did not understand.

Aemond was silent beside you, the storm heard from the Dragon Caves as water gently leaked through cracks in the foundation. You thought the weather matched your mood and did little to quell the raging tempest that built in your chest and head; if anything, it spurred your anger onward. Tears leaked from your eyes with no sign of stopping; legs remaining bent to keep your arms tight around them. You also could not meet his gaze, nor look upon his face without picturing your baby brother screaming in terror.

You sniffled several times as you couldn't do much else but cry, but then, you made a swift decision. Jumping to your feet, you muttered, "I must go."

"Wait," Aemond stood after you, following you to your saddled dragon. Kasta raised her head and narrowed her eyes in threat, growling when Aemond reached for you. "Sweet girl, please, just hang on a second - "

"No," you sneered, wheeling around on him - meeting his eye at last. "You did this. You killed my brother, and what I need right now, is fucking space."

"How do I know you're not leaving for good? Fleeing to tell your mother the news?" He asked hopelessly. "Please, my love, understand that I cannot let you leave me. I cannot bare it."

"You cannot keep me here," you whispered in return. "You said you'd smuggle me out of the city if I wanted. Well, this is what I want - to fly with Kasta, and to be rid of your presence for now."

Tears filled his violet eye, "Please tell me you will return?"

"What if I don't?" You sneered. "Will you get on Vhagar and follow me, too? Hunt me down in the skies, maybe? Let your dragon eat Kasta and I for her main course?"

The emerald green dragon positioned above you glowered, and bore her teeth as if to dare your husband to do anything.

"You know I'd never hurt you," he whispered, but reached for your arms. "I need you to step away with me, please. We need a word."

"A word? A word? You need a word with me? Where was that courtesy for my brother? A boy of only ten and four!? Hey!?"

But you silenced yourself when Vhagar lifted her head from her alcove and swung it to watch the three of you - making Kasta go on the defense. "Kasta," you demanded in High Valyrian, "enough. Do not engage."

Your dragon growled still, standing rigidly above you as Aemond's hands tightened over your upper arms. "Listen to me," he begged still, making your glare turn back to his lone eye, "and believe me, please, none of this was my intention."

"You've made that clear. Yet what I can understand, is that you antagonized a child and your dragon does not understand limits nor bounds. She does not understand you only wanted to torment and scare the boy, and when his dragon reacted in an effort to protect his rider, you lost control."

"Why is his dragon understood and mine crucified?"

You scoffed, "Truly? What business did a 10-year-old child have claiming some 180-year-old dragon!?"

"Now that is on trial!?"

"Aemond, what are you expecting here?" You snapped, ignoring the way your skin seared under his touch. "You and your fucking dragon killed my brother, end of story, end of sentence, no other room for judgement. This is your sin to bear, not mine, though I am now burdened with knowing my husband claimed the innocent life of my brother! How could you?" You whispered, stepping closer as your voice lowered but still rang clearer than the storm raging outside. Both hands tightened over his biceps, begging, "How could you do this? To me? To us? To my Mother? If it was an eye you wanted, you can have mine - both if it would satisfy you."

His head shook, "No. No, I would not - do not twist this on me."

"I am assuring you that there were any other way to solve this, and should you remember correctly, we married so that your pride might be soothed. As payment for my brother's actions, my hand was offered, and your father accepted that proposal. Pray tell me how that was not enough? After all this time?" Your arms laid over his to grab the muscle above his elbow; his grip tightening on your waist. "Why did you do it? Why did you push for this? It is by your selfishness that my brother isn't even allowed to be buried!"

"Say the word and we will go find him now," Aemond shook his head.

You scoffed, then nodded solemnly. "Truly?"

"I would do anything to right this terrible wrong. If it meant you stayed, if it meant I kept you, I would do anything."

You nodded again and tried to smile, but your tears made it difficult. Before Aemond could blink, your hands reached for his belt and yanked the leather free; grabbing his long-sword in hand and shoving the weapon into his chest - which forced him back two steps.

"Gut your dragon," you whispered into the eery silence.

"What?"

"Gut Vhagar and pull my brother's body free before the acids have time to dissolve him further," you sneered, pressing the sword harder.

"My love," he begged softly.

"No? Is that refusal?" You goaded.

"You know I cannot."

"Then there is nothing more I want from you than to be free to take my dragon into the skies. I cannot look at your face longer, knowing what I know now. I need time to think."

His hand softly folded over yours, pausing a moment to ask, "Is there any way you could forgive me?"

"I need to first find a way to fully stomach what you've done, then we might ponder if I can forgive you. I would not hold my breath if I were you, though."

His hand tightened over yours, nodding as he repeated to you your words from earlier that day in High Valyrian, "I will wait for you forever, if I must. But do not make me... Please."

You snorted through your nose, shaking your head, "Do not do that. Do not try to romance me now. You cannot possibly have love for me if your dragon ate my fucking brother."

You pulled away from him in full to make for Kasta again. Sword laid forgotten in the sand as he called after you, "Just be careful, my love, please. There's a storm tonight."

"Yes, I've ears to hear with, thank you!" You snapped over your shoulder. "I will be fine."

You wanted to tell him you'd return, but in truth, you were unsure if you were able to. You wanted to go back before today, before the love of your life had killed and eaten your little brother. Well, his dragon did the eating, and while that's not Aemond, and beasties are allowed to be wild from their masters, you were disgusted looking at him.

Kasta purred when you got to her side and easily climbed on top of the saddle, sparring Aemond only a single look before encouraging your dragon from the Caves under the Dragon Pit.

Aemond had to flatten himself against the Cave wall as Kasta surged past him - bursting into the frigid air, and spreading her wings to beat once, twice, three times, and rise into the air.

You soared higher and higher; darkness swallowing you as it had your brother, letting the storm encompass you whole. When Kasta was level, your hands let go of the saddle to sit back and choke on your sobs, arms going lax as your strength to hold yourself together gave way. And through the storm, what better way to release your rage?

You let your tears mix with the water splattering on your face. For the thunder to drown your anguished screams. For the lightning to flash away the images you unintentionally conjured when you thought of your husband and brother.

You let the vapid, sideways rain pound over you. For the wind to howl and create a legion of goose flesh to form over your shivering form; though you did not feel it. For the storm to become one with you.

Your pain was tangible. Your anguish known.

You flew for miles, unsure where you were heading because the storm demanded the forefront of your attention - but you weren't willing to give it. Kasta chose to fly aimlessly as she just wanted to stretch out, and for a moment, you considered just flying across the Narrow Sea. Head for Essos, where you would escape this petty stupidity. Where you would not have to choose between your beloved mother and adoring husband.

Between Green and Black.

Between rightful succession, and well... Tradition. You hated the thoughts when they registered in your head, but the truth of the matter is that after centuries of tradition as naming first-born males the heir, you were not stupid and understood your shit-stain-brother-by-law, Aegon, held a 'legitimate' claim now.

You were desperately confused, you had no honest idea what to do, and the further you flew in the storm, the more your exhaustion rose. As your dragon's pale green wings cut through the air and she took charge of your flight, you weighed the pro's and con's of each action.

If you stayed, you got Aemond - and that was enough of a pro on its own.

If you left, you'd be able to salvage whatever time you have with your brothers, Jace and Joffrey. Plus your step-sisters, Rhaena and Baela, along with half-siblings, Viserys II and Aegon III.

If you stayed, your dragon would be on the frontlines only due to her sheer size... And that sounded more like a con.

But! But! But! If you left, you knew the message you bore - that was sure to reach your mother's ears with or without you - would be reason enough for Rhaenyra to wage war. If you returned to your mother, you'd be thrown into her war, and with Kasta, who still grew in size and ferocity, who was to say you wouldn't be used on the frontlines there, too?

If you stayed, Aemond would always protect you. Not that you needed it but it was a comfort to know you'd not be alone.

You'd hopefully get to see your siblings all marry, too, if you went home.

Your child would know its father if you stayed.

You screamed into the night again.

Sobs ransacked your lungs, demanding oxygen be sucked in with a shuddering, stuttering inhale. You were restless and distraught, and even when time passed, the storm did not; nor did your heartbreak. But Kasta understood your pain, letting you sob into her hide as she flew you higher, higher, higher... Before breaking free of the storm to give you a view of the just rising sun.

You breathed in shock as you sat up off her shoulders. With your arms keeping you upright, you gazed with swollen red eyes to the beautiful sight before you; relishing in the swirls of colors that only brightened with each flap of Kasta's wings.

She hovered a moment to let you gaze at the clouds and rising sunlight, patting her shoulder as you praised in High Valyrian, "Good girl, my sweet Emerald. Good girl - thank you. Thank you," you whispered, hearing her purr as she beat her wings to keep her body suspended.

You took a sobering breath and sat up tall. With nobody around, you were left with only Kasta to speak to, and maybe, that'd be your saving grace in time. You spoke, "It is more than myself I need to consider. You are my priority," you smiled, stroking her neck, "but I also now have a baby growing in my womb, and I have to take them into consideration, too. Where we go, I have to think of you two the most - because I cannot let you suffer for human selfishness."

She gave a loud purr.

"Yet we have two options, my girl. We stay in King's Landing and we would fight with Aemond, only. We are loyal to him, not his usurping weasel of a brother."

She snorted, almost nodding her head. You saw her lips flutter and knew she bore her teeth in distrust of Aegon.

"If we return to Dragonstone, we are subservient to our Queen, my Mother, the rightful ruler and heir to the Iron Throne. Surely, with Daemon's influence, we would be expected to fight."

Saying it aloud again made you slump onto her shoulders, groaning, "Oh, Kasta, what the hell are we doing? We should just take our chances in Essos."

She huffed.

"No? Maybe Pentos?"

She growled.

"Then where should we go, pet? Where? Where you are safe and so is my baby?"

Kasta whined lightly, unsure of your decision either.

"I care little for my own safety, but you, my precious girl, are entirely dear to me and I will not risk you in open war. I could not ask that of you, you are not at fault for the deceit my people show. But we have to chose which side we are to take, love. Where I took vowels to be loyal to Aemond, we know Rhaenyra is right and true, but with Luke's death, she... She cannot be thinking levelly."

Kasta lowly whined in agreement, turning in a circle to keep her blood pumping before coming to another halt. You had a view to a sea of sun-soaked clouds, finding rolling hills of different colors; all painted on fluffy canvases.

"She'll need me now more than ever," you whispered. "She cannot do this alone, and... And the Greens have Vhagar. The Blacks have Meleys. Yet if I take a position, I will still have to fight the ones I love, the dragons you grew with."

But Kasta gave a small snarl.

"You know I mean Aemond," you chuckled lowly. "He's the best trained with a sword and rides the largest dragon... He'd be sent off to battle, and to meet him, I'd wager Daemon would not hesitate to send us with Melyes and Rhaenys. What would hurt more, Kasta? Fighting my step father and mother's cousin? Or fighting the man I was sworn to love and be loyal to before the Gods? Who sires my children? But... The man has killed my brother and I fear I'd be unable to forgive him. What do I do, Kasta?"

She whined again.

"I made vows to him," you whispered brokenly. "I do not think I can leave... Mother would surely use us to fight, but at least Aemond would protest Aegon's command, try to keep us safe..." Your tears streamed down your cheeks, making you nod, "All right, yeah, come now, my love, we need to go."

Kasta anticipated this and turned to dive back into the storm; your eyes closing from the whipping wind stinging your eyes as Kasta dove at an angle straight down. You held on tightly and trusted her, and when she leveled, you cracked your eyes open to see your dragon flapping her wings straight for the distant Red Keep.

"Mumma's sneaky girl, aren't you?" You chuckled at her, patting her neck with an affection hand. She gave a roar of announcement as she swiftly circled the Dragon Pit and descended; landing with a trembling thud before she was hurrying under cover from the still-raging storm. You held on until she came to a halt in the Caves; pausing to let you slide off your saddle. "Good girl," you praised, letting her forehead caress the scales of her cheek. "Good girl, thank you. Always my good girl, yes," she gave a small snort of contentment, almost leaning into you.

"Thank you for returning my wife safely, Kasta," Another voice purred in smooth High Valyrian, and you sighed when you recognized it instantly. It was a voice you longed to hear, but not yet - not so soon. You did not think he'd still be here at this hour.

"I've only just returned, Aemond, are you truly that dull or does the concept of time and space just not register in your head?" You leered to Aemond from over your shoulder.

"I needed to see you were safe with my own eye," he sighed, watching your dragon patter (read: took thundering steps) into her alcove for rest; leaving the two of you as alone as you could be.

"You see me now," you snipped. "Now leave me be."

"We should talk - "

"The only thing I've left to say is that I'm done," you nodded. "I'm not leaving you, don't bother even trying to lock up Kasta - she's been biting lately. But I can't stay with you anymore."

"What does that mean?"

"That I still need time and space to think about this, it's not a decision I can come to in a single evening," you sighed. "Look, I'll move out - "

"No, wait," Aemond stepped towards you but you held a hand.

"It's for the best," you backed off a step. "I can't live in our room anymore, not when you are everywhere. I'll suffocate."

"I'll move out."

"Do you not listen?" You groaned lightly. "You're all I see in that room, and I need time apart. I understand what happened with Vhagar, I do - and while I'm sorry you feel guilt over losing control, I still need you to have accountability for the actions taken tonight. You've started a war - both in life with my mother, and in my heart with my head."

Your words planted his feet as his stomach plunged; letting you slip past him only just - your ears catching his whisper, "Will you ever forgive me?"

You paused but did not look at him. "Time will tell," you alluded, unsure of what to tell him in truth. You left after that, the storm thick and making you stick to back allies of King's Landing to reach the Red Keep again. Seemingly out of respect, Aemond did not follow, and from your shared quarters, you made a beeline for the one thing you wanted. The rest of the room and all contents shared some kind of memory attached to your husband.

You only took an ornate jewelry box your mother had gifted you years ago and quickly fled the room in favor of locating Amira. From there, she helped you locate a new room, and together, you shoveled clothes into trucks, and with another maid, Clara, carried two full trunks between you three.

You lead, holding one handle, Amira in the middle, both hands holding an end of a trunk, and Clara at the rear; a single rucksack strung around yours and Clara's shoulders. You ignored the bewildered looks of others to quickly head for your new room, somewhere far from Aemond to avoid accidentally running into him.

Your two maidens helped you unload your trunks with two jugs of wine - the night long, and given your status, you could 'relieve' the two women of their daily chores. So, they spent the night with you, and you didn't dare open your mouth about what happened.

You told them you and Aemond had a terrible fight and you needed space to think. They understood and while you saw the way Clara wanted to push, Amira was sending her stern looks that silenced the younger girl. They did not linger after the sun broke the horizon, but Amira did return to bring you something for breakfast.

You didn't realize this would become your new normal.

Weeks upon weeks went by with Aemond keeping his distance and it drove you up the bloody wall. On one hand, you were frustrated because you were alone, but also angry, because he killed your brother. You craved his affection, his touch, but still felt repulsed by the sight of him. He liked to send you flowers; filling your room with sickly sweetness that made your anger almost solidify, but the reminder of the act of kindness went farther than you were willing to admit; and though you'd not admit it, each little card that came with the flowers were saved in a small, carved wooden box.

On the loneliest nights, you curled up in bed, caressed your still-growing bump, and reread his declarations of love and loyalty. His words that read how much he missed you, and prayed for you daily.

In order to maintain appearances to both his family and the public, you and Aemond attended official royal events together. However, the silence between you and Aemond echoed across any room; earning the attention of his family.

They were well aware by now of Luke's demise and could only assume you knew, as well; but nobody ever confronted you about it after Aemond threatened physical harm to any who dared. When Aegon threw Aemond a feast to celebrate his 'accomplishment', not even the arrogant boy-King questioned your notable absence. Especially after teasing he'd go collect you himself - and earned Aemond's venomous glare that rooted him in spot.

For weeks, you slept alone, mostly ate alone, couldn't bare to sit with Helaena and her children anymore. You were heartbroken and feeling sick from stress, isolating yourself in the hope of figuring out your emotions and next steps forward.

You tried to rationalize in your head that in times of war, casualties were inevitable; but you were frustrated because it was the first punch, and never knew where to place your emotions. Granted, you could've considered Aegon's coronation provocation towards war but your mother was trying to be calculated in her movements; almost now forced into the fray following the death of Lucerys.

Despite this understanding, nothing in your mind cleared.

Until enough was enough when the next storm struck the city. You flinched awake and felt your chest tighten with memories of your baby brother as the storm had tapped into your subconscious to make you dream of him. It felt more like a haunting now.

You were left alone to pace the cold, stone floors, the hearth stoked to life, flowers slowly drying from a vase on the spare table, but the thunder made you tremble and rub your palms together. Your mind did not stop, nor did the frantic, vapid beat of your heart; anxiety flaring with each flash of lightning.

You flinched when there was a pounding at your door. Not a knock, but four beats of a fist in rapid succession that nearly made the whole door shake off its hinges.

Gulping any nerves, you reached for the handle and opened it a crack; curious as to who would call upon you at this late hour. But what you saw surprised you, making you blink a few times. "You're soaked," You whispered, leaning on the door you held, taking note of the rain water dripping off Aemond's form.

"There were matters I had to attend to, so, I was outside for a time," he explained with a nervous nod. "I was just returning, and only wanted to come by and check on you..."

"Why?"

He shrugged some, "The storm, and because I love you. I didn't want you feeling so alone. I know you grow weary."

You nodded as another crack of thunder rumbled, making you ask softly, "Do you want to come in?"

"Yes, thank you," he whispered with a curt nod, watching you step away to push the door open and grant him passage into the smaller room. When he stepped over the threshold, you gulped nervously and shut the door securely. "You rearranged," he noted with a small chuckle. "Like you did in our room."

"I think I am nesting," you smiled, smoothing a hand around your swollen belly. "Times I am stressed, I can curl up in bed with a book."

He nodded, "Good."

The bookshelf was in a new place than the first, last, and only time he's seen your new room, and the bed was pushed into a corner where you had piled a mountain of pillows to create a literal nest. You watched him for a moment, offering, "Do you want to change? You might catch a cold in that."

He nodded, "Uh, yeah, yes, that would be much appreciated. Thank you, sweet girl, but I have clothes in, uh, our room..."

You smiled softly and went to the wardrobe to find him something new, warm, and suitable to change into. "I kept some of your clothes, they're comfortable to sleep in," you explained, slightly defending yourself as you didn't like feeling so vulnerable under his luminescent gaze. "What were your errands?" You wondered gently.

He sighed, "I had to visit the Storm Lands again, Aegon had a new message for Lord Borros."

"How fairs your intended?"

He laughed, "Oh, my beautiful girl, you still think that's happening?"

"Is it, Aemond?"

"Not in the slightest," he sighed, nodding with assurance when your eyes met his with skepticism. "I told Aegon now wasn't the time for strife between my wife and I, and I wasn't available to do his bidding nor make his alliances."

You considered his words, then asking, "Is there news?"

Aemond cleared his throat, nodding as you presented the clothing and sat it on the bed. Then, your hands took hold of his jerkin and started to undo the latches and laces - as if no time had passed. He sighed, "Your step-father claimed Harrenhal and the Lady Arryn and Lords Manderly, Sunderland, and Stark, maybe another, have declared for your mother's side."

You nodded, peeling the wet leather from his form. "And your news to Storm's End?"

"To break the engagement in person, but Borros did not seem too disheartened."

"You think he would abandon the cause?"

"No," he sighed. "He's smarter than that."

"Uneducated, though," you mused gently, peeling his tunic free from his damp chest. "Hang on," you paused, moving for the heath to pull off a towel from a drying rack. When you returned, you asked, "And how are you feeling now?"

"Exhausted," he whispered. "But I was worried about you, Princess, when I came home and saw the storm was here, too."

You nodded, "You do not need worry - "

"Of course I do," he snarled gently, "you are most precious to me, my love," he frowned as his tone tapered off, shaking his head. "'S been killing me trying to give you space."

"Thank you for it," you nodded, sweeping over his skin to dry it before handing him the thin, white tunic. "But um..." You paused with nervousness, nudging his booted foot with your bare one. "Take those off."

"What were you truly going to say?"

You rolled your eyes some, silently cursing him for knowing you so bloody well. "That I do not wish to be alone tonight... Maybe you'd like to stay?"

"You'd want me?"

"Of course," you nodded, gently unlacing his trousers and stepping away to let him change completely into drier pants. "I told you I didn't want to be alone."

"You've been so angry."

"With reason."

"I know," he nodded, eye tinging red from restrained emotion. "I'm so sorry - "

"For what this time?"

"All of it," he reached for you, changed finally. "But I swore you wouldn't be alone, and here, I just left you."

"I wanted to be alone," you reminded softly.

"Did not mean you should have been," he whispered, letting his forehead meet yours. He let out a sigh of relief, "Let me fix us."

"I think time apart has sickened my stomach... And your child misses the sound of your voice," you admitted. "I don't want to be without you anymore, but your brother oversteps himself."

"I know - "

"He threw you a feast for killing my brother," you reminded, stepping away. "He mocks my pain."

"I will have a word with him - and with everyone. You will not be caught between this war, you are my wife, and I will protect you against them all."

"I am only loyal to you," you sighed. "So, whatever you ask of me, I will do, but only that. I am not your brother's subject - "

"Hey," he quipped, slipping his hand over your mouth and giving a suspicious glance around the room. "I hear you, pet, I do, trust me, but the walls have ears now. Please..."

You sighed, rolling your eyes at him before opening your mouth and boldly licking his palm. He tasted like leather, and just like you wanted, he recoiled in shock from the feel of your tongue. "Wash your hands, husband," you chuckled, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Because you don't know where you've been, wife?" He teased, pulling a soft mug at his soiled hand before stepping away from you to head for the wash basin.

"I haven't really left this room, Aemond," you sighed.

"I know," he admitted, washing his hands and forearms, "I was worried about you isolating yourself but Amira kept saying you needed space to think."

"She's a good friend," you smiled gently, watching him. "Can we be done with this?"

He offered a look of shock, "What? With what, love?"

You sighed, quelling his worry by responding, "This fight? The distance between us? I don't... I don't want space anymore. I just want you, Aemond, I want my husband back."

His shoulders gently slumped with relief as he dried his hands. "Yes, good, we're done, it's at an end, my love. You have me, you always have - and always will."

"I'm still working on forgiving you but I think, all things considered, we can start... Moving on..."

He nodded, "Many are lost in war, but I am so sorry he was the first. And that it was by my hand."

"Thank you for saying that," you nodded at him, finding his accountability refreshing. "Come to bed, please?"

"In your nest?" He chuckled, letting your hand reach for his and lead him to the mattress.

"Yes, it's cozy," you defended. "And you made me sleep alone, so, I made do with what I had."

"Fight's over, love, that's all done now," he promised with a sigh, settling into your nest and readjusting a few times. "Hmm," he considered, glancing around the mountain of silks and fluff. "I don't think I hate it completely."

"Shhh," you hushed as you moved to curl up at his side. The hearth had died a bit in flame, but the warmth was enough that you only needed a thin sheet for comfort. You smiled when his hand laid to your belly, rubbing gently as if in fascination.

"Missed you so much, sweet girl," he whispered, kissing your forehead. You sighed against him, promising you missed him, too; then deflating into his chest as sleep tugged at your form. You still flinched into his embrace on a few particular hard claps of thunder rattling the walls and windows, but Aemond was there to soothe you back into gentle submission.

Yet, by morning, there was nothing but chaos.

"MY PRINCE!" Someone banged at the door, making you and your husband flinch awake. "PRINCESS!"

"The hell?" Aemond muttered through a haze of sleep, hand tightening on your waist.

"MY PRINCE! PLEASE! PRINCESS! WAKE UP! WAKE UP, PLEASE! MY LADY! LORD! LORD, PLEASE!"

"That's Mira," you realized, sitting up in shock. "Come in, come in!"

"Love," Aemond reprimanded, yanking the bedsheet over his bare hips after feigning being too hot in the night to spend it in your cunt with you still in your singlet.

The door barged open and Amira entered with a pant, "You both need to come quick!"

"What's happened? Are we under attack?" You worried.

"No, no, well, I-I don't - I don't know anymore," she panted, using her hands to reiterate her words. "Something has happened - "

"Tell us plainly," Aemond demanded.

"The Queen - y-your mother, s-s-someone broke in a-and bound her," Amira told you both with a tremble; making you grab Aemond's hand as if it would quell his growing temper. "Th-They killed the hand maiden and your sister arrived with all three of her children, like they do every night - t-to say goodnight to their grandmother."

"No," you whispered.

"The door was barred," Amira's tears started, "an-and the Queen was made to choose which of her sons would die."

"For the love of the Gods," Aemond cursed, looking down as if to prepare himself.

Amira gulped.

"Tell us," you encouraged.

"S-She named Maelor... But they killed Jaehaerys instead." You felt the tears swell. "They took his head, and fled the Keep," she whispered.

"What?" You gasped.

"But, wait, wait," she saw both your temper and Aemond's flare when his head lifted to burn her with his glare. The missing eyepatch allowed his sapphire to leave her unnerved. "One of the assassins was caught. He's been brought to the dungeons."

"The dungeons?" Aemond nodded.

"Yes, my Prince. Your brother is being informed and anticipated he'll call for you," she explained. "Your mother is being seen to, she is well-enough, and the Lady Helaena was not harmed... But she is beside herself with grief."

"Rightfully," you nodded, watching Amira sniffle.

"I'll go, but perhaps, Lady, you should remain... You do not need to bear witness to the King's justice," she spoke softly.

"I will go with my husband, thank you, Amira," you nodded at her, letting her turn for the door in haste. "Aemond?" You turned to him, reaching for his cheek to direct his attention to you. "Hey, hey, stay in the present with me; take me through your thoughts..."

He shook his head, leaning in to sigh when his head rested in the crook of your neck. "I do not even know," he admitted. "What am I supposed to do right now? What am I to think? What - What if they came for us? Came for you?" His hand secured to your belly. "This is retribution for Lucerys, this is my fault - my doing. They could've come for you, my love - "

"They did not because they know I am under your protection, my sweet love," you muttered, caressing the back of his head. "Nobody would be so foolish."

"Then perhaps I need to keep you close," he frowned, lifting his gaze. "So that I can protect you at all times." You nodded, letting his hand caress your belly in soothing circles. "I-I am ashamed to admit I cannot stop thinking about it. If they came for you."

"Aemond," your hand reached for his jaw; fingers fitting between his ear to thread slightly into his hair. "Do not burden yourself with the unknown, please. The hypothetical, it-it will not serve us now. When we're alone, yes, my love, please, grieve and be upset and tell me what thoughts plague your mind. But we need to hit pause because there's business to attend right now."

He sniffled and nodded some. "You're right. Come with me, please."

You agreed, and together, got from the bed. After changing from your singlet, you both hustled through the castle to make for the dungeons - your husband armed with his long sword and two different daggers. Your hand was tight in his, trying to help keep him level headed as you met Aegon and witnessed the murderer, 'Blood', be tortured for answers.

He admitted to a partner, a rat-catcher named Cheese, and that he was on his way to collect payment for the Prince's death from your step-father, Daemon. Aemond's arm constricted around you when he heard, trying to prevent any residual anger be directed your way.

Yet, it never came.

Blood confessed to being told this ransom by some 'whore', nicknamed Misery - and you stilled at the familiar name. Only Aemond noted it, and he would question you later - where you'd admit to knowing the name of the White Worm because she was Daemon's paramour - before focusing on the interrogation.

The rest was a frenzy.

Over a two week period, Aegon hung every single rat-catcher in the city after being unsuccessful in locating this 'Cheese' character. In truth, they could not find your step-father's woman, either, but finding Cheese was much more important - since he fucking murdered the Prince. To be sure, all were executed and Aegon had their heads mounted on spikes around the Red Keep's fortress walls, and the Hand, Otto, had cats shipped into the Keep to take over the catcher's old job.

You and Aemond sought comfort in each other's arms the night you found out the truth of his sister's state. She had locked herself away and threw herself into a deep depression, unable to care for her children, and absolutely refusing to care for Maelor - after she named him to die. In response, Aegon had taken up residence in another room and gave his mother, Alicent, care of the baby after deeming his sister-wife unfit.

It made the both of you outrageously grateful for one another and all feelings of hardship truly evaporated. He held you close, letting his fingers run over your flesh; relishing in the warm feel of your curves. He liked kissing your forehead, holding your baby bump, letting calloused fingertips trace the contours of your face.

Yet the worst was yet to come.

The blows kept coming.

Aegon had seemingly lost the support of the mainland, the Riverlands, and left him in a drunken despair following the murder of his son. He grew tired of waiting and denounced his grandsire, Otto Hightower, as Hand before anointing Ser Criston Cole.

You and Aemond had shared looks of mistrust when the ceremony occurred to announce the change of position - both feeling as if Aemond was being cheated out of a natural position.

Yet, he did not voice anything and did as he was bid.

He did not let you on the frontlines despite his brother's nagging and pushing for such. Aemond worried for the babe in your womb and refused his brother every time - telling him to condemn both you and he as a traitor for it, then.

Aegon never followed through and actually left you be. Yet, as if in retaliation, he sent Aemond on constant errands and missions.

One day, when your husband returned victorious from his latest mission with his brother, who you could not see, because Ameond was rushing for you waiting at the gates of the Keep, and seized hold of your hips. "Come with me," he ushered, trying to lead you away.

"What's wrong?" You worried, hearing the crowds gather in the city streets. "Aemond? 'S goin' on, love?"

He sighed, and then you saw it over his shoulder. "Oh, Gods, no, no, no, no, no," you whispered, a large wagon carrying the head of the Red Queen, Meleys, who was your Grandmother's dragon. "What happened?" You rounded on Aemond. "Tell me what happened!"

"It was a fair fight," he assured softly, avoiding your gaze. "But..."

"Please, just tell me," you whispered, one hand to your lower belly as if to support the babe growing in your womb.

"Meleys perished and her head was brought back to encourage the commonfolk. Sunfyre was severely wounded and had to be left behind in Rook's Rest, and Aegon is gravely wounded, he'll be seen by the Maester's, and..."

"Please."

"Your Grandmother, Princess Rhaenys, did not survive. Or, so we think. There was a body too charred to identify found with the Red Queen."

"Gods," you sighed, wrapping your arms around his waist to rest on his chest. You whispered sadly, "It just follows us now, doesn't it? Everywhere we look..."

"What does?"

"Death."

He frowned and leaned down to kiss your head, giving a tight squeeze. "I'm so sorry," he whispered to you.

But the blows didn't stop.

Rumor reached the Keep of your brother, Prince Jacerys, collecting Targaryen bastards - offering a knighthood to those who could conquer any of the six, riderless dragons left on Dragonstone. Apparently, many tired, many failed, and only four were conquered - including King Jaehaerys' dragon, Vermithor.

The Greens were vastly outmatched.

You grew nervous and Aemond often spent his nights mindlessly tracing up and down your spine to assure you he was still there. He was still alive. He was still with you.

The blows kept coming.

Your two half-brothers, Viserys II and Aegon the Younger, were being transferred across the sea when the Green's navy found them. No ships were left untouched and rumor had it, only Aegon III survived - clinging to the neck of his injured dragon. However, there was no way of confirming if he ever washed ashore or not, so, the idea of him being lost to the sea sank your stomach to new depths.

Over the Gullet of Blackwater Bay, your brother, Jace, had apparently flown too close to the water's surface when he descended to avenge his half-brothers. He leapt from Vermax' back as the dragon crashed and died in the accident, leaving the Green's navy defenses to take aim and shoot the Prince to the death.

He was never pulled from the waters. Again, another brother with no body to mourn or burn.

However, the men Otto recruited from the Stepstones made landfall and sacked Spicetown before laying siege to High Tide. Apparently, they burnt the whole of it, and all of your Grandfather, Corlys', treasures were lost. In addition, a third of his fleet was set ablaze - and you felt guilt for the small relief you felt.

Maybe the end of the war was soon upon you.

By a stroke of nature, you went into labor following news of your brother's demise. It was the smallest semblance of happiness the Greens could find, and they paced at your door; curious for the new addition to the family. Husbands weren't usually allowed in the birthing chambers but Aemond left no choice; holding your hand through it all and using a cloth to dab sweat from your forehead and brow. He paced with you, sat behind you when you needed to squat, did not let anyone touch you when you did not wish to be touched.

He was encouraging, soft, loving, and mostly, worried. The labors of birth was not for the weak of heart, and Aemond had to remind himself several times to be strong for you.

A full fucking day and a half in labor, and you and Aemond were then laid in bed holding a pair of twins. A boy, who looked just as his father does, who his mother named Olyver, and a little girl, who liked to wriggle around in her father's arms, who he named Brinna.

"You did so good, my love, so good," Aemond whispered from beside you, supporting your weight on his shoulder and weight of his newborn daughter in his arms. "Look at them. They're beautiful, aren't they?"

"Mhm," you assured softly.

His mother and brother visited to offer good tidings, leaving both of you surprised by Aegon's presence. Helaena never showed. But Otto did, offering you both congratulations.

Aemond was awe-struck, holding his children carefully; thanking you repeatedly for giving him the gift of fatherhood. They were gorgeous babes with stark white hair and bright purple eyes that slowly darkened with the passing weeks.

Aemond was obsessed. He liked their cribs at the base of your bed - in case they needed anything - and was always first to hop up to offer them care or comfort. Except when they were hungry, then he had to wake you, but he liked sitting behind you as you nursed the twins one at a time, on different breasts.

He couldn't stop showering you in compliments, truly in awe over what you both had created. He didn't like maids or midwives around the babies, often shooing them away in favor of either of you. Following the Blood and Cheese incident, he was overly protective and did not like your twins far from either of you. However, he was the first to call for aid when the long nights took a toll on you; leaving you to rest undisturbed while the babies slept in a separate room.

Any night your husband wasn't home, you were laid in bed with your twins with a wall of pillows around the edges. Aemond was named Protector of the Realm in his brother's absence - Aegon recovering from his severe broken bones and burns obtained at Rook's Rest. This only meant your husband was extremely busy as of late, but every night, no matter the time, he still came back to you.

You preferred knowing he was in meetings and strategy sessions rather than out on the frontlines with Vhagar - never allowing you to know of his safety. It was a gamble if he came home, which resulted in a passionate reunion, yes, but the anxiety you felt wasn't truly worth it. Now that he ruled in his brother's stead, you knew he'd come to bed eventually and started to settle down easier.

But then, when your children were under two, Aemond came to you with a proposition; late from a war strategy meeting, and slipping into bed behind you. He gave a tight squeeze to your frame, making you hum as you woke up fully from your sleepy daze.

"My love," you muttered, reaching up to caress the back of his neck as his lips pressed into your neck several times. You sighed in contentment, small smile on your lips.

"I need to ask you something important, sweet girl. Are you awake?"

"Mhm. What's wrong?" Then, you shot up to twist around and look at him with a crazed expression, "Is it the children!?"

"No, no," he soothed quickly, slowly coaxing you to lay down again. "C'mere, please," he sighed, slowly guiding you back into position. You tried to relax but his words made you suspicious; letting a hand lace with his that was resting on your stomach.

"What is it, love? Worrying me a bit," you sighed, feeling his breath fan over your neck and shoulder.

"Could you ride Kasta with us?" He sighed into your hair, being the big spoon.

"Where, my Prince?"

"To Harrenhal," he revealed quietly. "We mean to move on Daemon from the East and the Lannisters from the West, and in truth, I would hope he'd at least yield if he saw you. Or, more like, if he saw Kasta."

You nodded softly and turned in his arms so you could see his worried expression, reaching out to trace a fingertip over his face. You asked in a whisper, "You would spare him?"

"I have been the cause of enough of your grief, my love," he whispered, "I would try to undo some damage. Yes, I would take him alive, spare his life."

You sighed, "All right."

"We march at dawn after Cole and his men," he informed.

You sighed in agreement, "All right. Then, you're not fucking me, we're going to sleep if I'm to leave bed for long."

His grin was felt against your lips, and just as he planned, your resolve crumbled easily to let him flip you back around and slip inside you, but he still left time for you both to rest. What a gentleman. When you rose, both you and Aemond dressed for the excursion before kissing your children goodbye.

With your husband at your side, you both mounted your dragons solemnly before letting them take to the skies - the armies long-gone with Cole at the lead. They were easy to catch up with, and unknown to any of you, your step-father knew of the Green movement and flew Caraxes to King's Landing to meet your mother on Syrax.

None of you would know of the damage until it was too late.

After a 19-day march through mud and rain, that was met with only few battles from lesser Lords, you were surprised to find Harrenhal empty. Abandoned. There was only the weakened bodies of House Strong left, and all were taken prisoner. You eyed the castle wearily after Aemond had called you from the skies, feet crunching over charred dirt as you went.

"What's happened?" Aemond wondered gently, looking around with you in skepticism.

"He fled," you noted with suspicion, eyes meeting your husband's gaze as you slowly reached for his hand. "He wouldn't unless for something bigger, Aemond."

He nodded mutely as a grinning Cole approached you both, informing, "The whole place is abandoned. Word must've reached him of our numbers and he didn't want the fight. I imagine he's already back at Dragonstone."

You hummed, "Maybe, but it's not like Daemon to flee. We're talking about the same madman who took the Blood Stone Island singlehandedly - "

"Until he was overrun and your Grandsire rode to his aid," Cole cut off, sighing at you. "Daemon's past triumphs are of no use nor concern here. The truth is, he's fled the fortress and it's been reclaimed in the name of King Aegon."

"No, something's not right," you insisted, still glancing around as if to expect a message that would tell you where Daemon had gone. "He wouldn't just give up, not without the Queen's explicit instruction."

"Could his Queen have given another order?" Aemond wondered, and Cole had to physically restrain himself from snapping that Rhaenyra was the False Queen - and that Alicent and Helaena were the rightful leading Ladies of the Realm.

You paused to consider his question, muttering, "'S possible. But what was said? And when?" Your head shook, "No, something's not right. Can't you feel it?"

"They say this castle is haunted, Lady," Cole sighed.

"No, it goes beyond that - and fuck off, Cole, ghosts are real," you snipped, waving him off. "I don't think we should stay, I-I think we should return to the capital. Love?"

Before Aemond could answer, Cole did, "No, we need to hold the fort."

"With respect," you spat at Cole, "but this is not the easy win you think it is. How much would you wager there's been a spy?"

"Impossible - "

"Improbable," you corrected, "but very much possible."

This lead you three to make for one of the strategy rooms to argue, nobody truly knowing what the next course of action should be.

That was, until the late hours, when a bloodied and soot-covered messenger arrived. "Love," You gasped when the man burst into the room, grabbing onto Aemond in shock.

"Who are you?" Aemond demanded, hand to his longsword.

"I-I come - I come from the Keep, my Prince," the man panted. "I carry grave news."

"What's happened?" Cole demanded.

The message was simple: after they had all left, Rhaenyra and Daemon flew their dragons over the city and your Grandsire, Corlys, sailed into Blackwater Bay - seizing it. Any messenger was caught and arrested, anyone trying to send ravens, too. Yet, your messenger only managed to escape through the back tunnels under the Keep; but could not avoid the panic of the city.

"What of the King?" Aemond demanded.

Larys Strong had managed to smuggle Aegon, his daughter, Jaehaera, and Prince Maelor out of the city. He sent the children to different places, and did not say where Aegon was sent. You'd only learn later he was planted in Dragonstone.

"Where is Larys now?" Aemond muttered, being told the man simply disappeared and there was no further news of him.

"And the Queen?" Cole needed to know.

Alicent had been spared, but her father, Otto, your husband's grandsire, had been beheaded - and any remaining Greens surrendered to Rhaenyra. The city was sacked in less than a day.

"What of our children?" Aemond demanded with a tremor to his voice, his arm around you tightened with each passing second as you waited for an answer.

Allegedly, Alicent had been found holding your babies tightly to her chest, trying to protect them - begging they be spared when finally caught. But Rhaenyra thought the little girl looked oddly like Laena Velaryon, and upon closer inspection, discovered the twins to definitely be your children. They were spared and being taken care of by your mother, now; apparently being under strict watch.

"Oh, Gods," you breathed, starting to pace as panic cemented your stomach. "I-I should not have left. Oh, no, no, no, Gods, please, no, what have we done?"

"We don't know if your life would've been spared, my love," Aemond argued, turning to grab onto you and halt your pacing, "better you were here with us then left to the unknown. We will get our babies back, I swear to you."

"No, no, this is my mother we're talking about, Aemond," you snapped. "She would not harm me - "

"She would if she thought you Green," he pointed out. "I know you're worried, I am, too, but we will find our children soon. We are not abandoning them, I promise you."

"I just want our family together," you whispered tearfully, feeling stressed beyond belief. His arms encircled around you, letting you rest against his chest and almost forgetting the present company.

"My Prince?" Cole asked.

"We march for the capital," his head turned to look at Cole and nod, arms never loosening from around you. It was as if he thought his arms protected you, but it wasn't like you wanted to leave.

"No, no, we should join with Ormund Hightower and your brother, Prince Daeron!"

"Our family needs us," Aemond argued. "Our children, Cole! Where is your head, how can you think there's any other choice of action!?"

"The country needs us - and Daeron is your kin, so are the Hightowers!"

"Our children are in a sacked city, Cole! They're left with the enemy!"

"Which is truly unfortunate, but there is nothing - "

"LIKE HELL THERE ISN'T!" Aemond roared, letting go of you to stride up Cole in anger. "Our children will not be sacrificed! If it takes every life of every man at disposal, then that is what we will do!"

"You're all ignoring the biggest point," you snapped, reddened eyes glaring at the two men as the messenger was given leave to rest. "I told you Daemon did not simply leave - he was tipped off. There's a mole amongst us and someone is sharing secrets."

Aemond's head snapped to look at you, "I told you I did not trust him..."

"Who?" Cole asked.

"Ser Larys Strong," you sneered. "I do believe we need to have a conversation with Ser Simon Strong."

"For now, Lady, we should feast," Cole nodded. "It's been a long journey and the men are tired. Please, for tonight, allow us reprieve from turmoil."

Aemond nodded in agreement, and while you rested from pure exhaustion in a hard, cold bed, your husband took part in the night's festivities. You heard rumor later of him boasting how Daemon grew weary from their numbers and strength, but never once gave mention to the suspicions you shared.

[ part two ]

[ alternate ending one: Kin Slayer ]

[ series masterlist ]

#aemond targaryen #aemond the kinslayer #prince aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen imagine #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd imagine #hotd x reader

446 notes · View notes