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bunnys-kisses · 3 months ago

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🎀 can i get a pithivier and angel food cake and croissant nanaimo bars (but also a pull-apart bread bc i’m a softy) with a side of a martini and an early grey 🤭 for daniel ricciardo pretty please ❤️❤️

bakery menu

want to submit an order? then check out the menu! there is all kinds of things on there! thank you in advance and enjoy! as for this lovely anon, thank you so much for the order! i hope you love what i've come up with! with the cherry on top of the pull-apart bread! AND the mafia au, this was a lovely order to write. i hope it's amazing! so yes! enjoy!!

pithivier ("if you don't behave, i'll let the boys take care of you.") + angel food cake ("if he fucks with me again, i'm finishing inside of you.") + croissants ("i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me.") + nanaimo bars ("who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it.") + pull-apart bread ("i love you") + martini (mafia au) + earl grey tea (big cock) served by daniel ricciardo (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, mafia au, big cock!daniel, wolff!reader, mafia boss!daniel, mafia boss daughter!reader, affection

the wolf and her moon. the smiling moon that led her from the pack and into the arms of one of the scariest men on the continent. in the glimmering lights of monaco, miss wolff spent her evenings with mister ricciardo, the head of a prominent mafia family.

you were not scared of that life, your adoring father was toto wolff. you had been surrounded by the life for as long as you could remember. you remembered being driven to school by men in dark suits. you remembered going on dates as a teen and seeing the same men in shady corners near where you were. even now as an adult the cloak of your father felt close.

which was why it took a fair bit to get close to daniel ricciardo.

you had been with daniel for a few months now. there was something about him that simply pulled you in. you knew he was a dangerous man, you once spent a night in france with him and mapped out his tattoos with your lips.

he treated you like you were capable, that you weren't something to be protected. even though he did have a habit of keeping a hand on your lower back and opening doors for you. you've only ever once paid for a meal and he loved when you wore the things he bought for you.

currently you were in his home, you just had dinner and were enjoying each other's company. daniel's thick fingers were in your hair as you laid out next to him. the lights were low and you both weren't pay attention to the movie he had put on. you knew it was a marvel movie, but you stopped paying attention to them ages ago.

"i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me." daniel said out loud.

you sighed and pressed yourself further against him and looked up at him, "my father doesn't matter right now. he's off doing whatever tonight."

he rubbed the back of your head and said jokingly, "well you know, if he fucks with me or the family again, i'm finishing inside of you." then kissed you on the face.

you pulled away a little, "i've been hearing all about this power vacuum. should i be worried that you'll do something to my father."

daniel pulled you in once more and peppered your face with kisses, "never. after all, he'll eventually be my father-in-law." and watched you duck your head in embarrassment. he laughed, "i want the satisfaction of him walking you down the aisle.

you rolled your eyes and kissed him all over the face, "i just want both of you safe." you got into his lap and held onto his face. the kiss deepened with his strong arms around you.

when he pulled away he said, "i promise." then pulled you onto your back and kissed you once more, "i can't have my future wife without her husband." he chuckled and stroked your face.

you melted every time he called you that. you sometimes wondered if he was already picking out rings and if you were brought up in backroom conversations between him and your father.

he peppered kissed along your jaw and felt a pull of affection towards you, "i love you."

you giggled and stared up at him, you felt a blush in your cheeks. you felt a thump in your chest and love that dripped into your soul. you joked, "for a mafia boss, you're a big softie."

he rolled his eyes, "what do you want me to say? if you don't behave, i'll let the boys take care of you? never. i love you too much." then kissed at you softly.

you melted a little more, honey in your soul, "you big sap!" you slapped his chest playfully and he pulled you in for a massive kiss.

"yeah, but you're my pretty girl." he want in for another kiss and said slyly, ""who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it."

you burst into laughter and squirmed under him. he soon had the bottom of your tank top off over your head and his hands on your breasts.

"c'mon, beautiful. who is my pretty girl? who is the girl who lights me alive and fills me full of love." he kissed at your face with his hands on your breasts. he palmed at the flesh and you arched your back.

you moaned and he started to work on getting your sweatpants off. in all fairness they originally belonged to him, but you told him that women's sweatpants sucked. "if i'm wearing sweatpants, i don't wanna look sexy!" but he thought you looked sexy in his pair.

you reached out for him and placed your palms across his covered chest. he was in a white tank top and similar grey sweats (the other pair he had to buy). you could see the thin gold chair he wore.

it was a hot sight, especially as he got the tank top off and exposed his toned chest to you. you exhaled deeply through you nose and said, "fuck you're hot. my entire life i thought that the mafia were a bunch of busted nose with a fat lip goons who enjoyed beating the shit out of random people." that was what your father told you about men who worked for the families as a means to steer you away from them. he wanted you to be with a man with a white collar job.

"well." daniel chuckled as he rubbed his clothed cock up against your panties, "you've seen me with a fat lip, two broken noses and a broken foot."

"it wasn't broken per say. you did have to get those stitches."

daniel chuckled, "damn verstappen, dropping that wine bottle on it." he got himself out of his briefs and you out of your panties. he admired the sight of your sweet cunt exposed in the soft lighting of the bedroom.

you swallowed at the sight of his cock out of his underwear. daniel had a big cock, you remember the first time you saw it and your eyes got wide. it still left a shiver through it you even now, but you were a little more accustomed to its size.

daniel got closer to you, his chest against yours as he took you by the hips. with a little work, he sank his cock into you. you let out a sweet moan and daniel felt a flash of heat in his chest.

"mmm, beautiful."

you smiled up at him and reached for his face. you pulled him in to a soft kiss and ran your fingers across his chest. his heartbeat was home.

your arms wrapped around him as he thrusted up into you. the two of you moved together, daniel's gaze lingered on you. from your beautiful eyes to your soft lips. the shape of your face and any little 'imperfections' across your skin. he thought it was all beautiful, he tried not to leer at your breasts. you were a person, not meat for him to ogle at.

you held onto him as he continued to move. you could felt lustful flames lick at you core. your back arched a little when his cock prodded up against some of your softest areas.

daniel was a generous lover, he loved the feeling of you. his kisses lingered, wet against your face and neck. you two were wound up into one another as he moved his hips against yours.

from two mafia families, put together. fitting together like puzzle pieces. if anyone from either of your family saw this sexual display, heads would roll.

but you and daniel didn't care. you wanted one another in a way that left you both feeling lot. it wasn't just a sexual heat, but something deeper. something that made you yearn for the other man.

when you looked at him, you felt special. you were a special girl in many ways, not only because of your father's name. you were smart, funny, had friends, and overall were a delight to be about. you had hobbies and aspirations. you were one of a kind, but when daniel looked at you. it sent it all into overdrive, to daniel you were the most important thing on this earth.

you knew with enough convincing, you two could leave the mafia life behind together. run off to the mountains of switzerland and have three children.

daniel kissed you once more, they were hot and heavy as your hands explored one another. you could almost feel your lover's heartbeat.

when he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, "one day i'm going to marry you. and i can't wait. you're going to make a beautiful wife for me."

"what about-"

"it'll work out." he pulled his face a little bit and he winked at you. he plants his hands on either side of you and continued to thrust up into you.

you clutched onto his shoulders and he moved faster. you felt the flush of heat through your chest at the feeling and sight of your beloved. this was where you wanted to be. with daniel.

daniel continued to move against you. he shifted your hips and got your knees to your head. he thrusted against you from the perfect angle. a proper mating press for a proper girl.

it only heightened the pleasure, to have you lover hit all the right spots. you moaned and clutched onto the back of your knees as he moved against you. he kissed you once more before you came around his cock. your pretty nails dug into your flesh as he moved against you. the intensity of it made daniel finish as well.

his cum shot into the furthest parts of you as he continued to rock against you. his pulse shot through the roof and sweat made his back shiny. the rush was like a shock to his system. he held you in his arms and rolled to the side.

you laid there naked, daniel's arms around you and eventually your face was in his chest. you felt the after feelings of pleasure and laid tangled up in the man you loved.

he kissed the side of your head and you felt warm. loved.

"sonnenschein." your father greeted you in his home office a few days later. you stepped into the room and closed the door behind you. your father gestured to the chair across from him.

you sat gently across from him, straightened your skirt. you then looked at your father once more and asked, "is everything okay?"

"of course. no need to worry." was a common phrase from your father. it made you give him a look and he gave a similar one in return. "you know i care for you, right?" toto said, his hands on the desk. he idly straightened out the mat under his palms. your father seemed nervous, your father was never nervous.

you shifted in your seat, "what's happening, papa." your eyebrows raised and there was a tightness in your chest.

toto sighed, eyes looked away for a moment, "things have gotten complicated in the network of all the families. there is a struggle for power. i fear something is coming and i need to protect you, sonnenschein...."

"are you sending me away?"

"no, no... you'll stay here. of course. i don't want you to feel like a pawn in these games. but, i need the biggest favor from you."

you nodded, "anything."

toto leaned back in his chair and held eye contact with you. the man who taught you how to ride a bike and a shoot a gun. who told you that dreams were only possible if the work was put into it. he had raised a confident young woman. which was why it broke his heart to say, "i need you to be in an arranged married with daniel ricciardo."

your eyes went wide and your heart skipped a beat. you put on a performance of a lifetime as you said to your father, "of course! anything for our family." <3

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jellybonbons · 8 months ago

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Calm husband x Assertive wife headcanons

DI!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

A/N: heavily inspired by safa and fahad’s relationship from dubai bling.

Leon with a wife who is a bit of a firecracker—she's got that bratty streak, a stubborn side, and isn't afraid to speak her mind. But beneath all that, she's also incredibly understanding, compassionate, and fiercely loyal (only to him and her loved ones).

After all he's been through, he's looking for someone who can keep him grounded, bring him back down to earth, or just take charge in the relationship. He wants to be pampered and taken care of.

Leon, who's all about going with the flow, has this "it is what it is" mindset, but you, his wife, are the one who calls the shots on his behalf. As Leon grew older, he stopped giving fucks except for his darling wife.

Take driving, for example. If someone cuts him off, he's the type to shrug it off. But you? You're the one with road rage, ready to give them a piece of your mind. And when his order gets messed up, he'll just eat it, but not you. You'll be marching up to the manager, making sure he gets what he paid for because, hey, it's all about getting your his money's worth.

"Sweetheart, it's fine, really," he said, offering a small smile.

"No, it's not. You specifically said no chilli. And what do they do? Add it in anyway. It's like they're gunning for you," you replied, clearly irritated and a tad dramatic. Poor white man can't handle his spice.

Sometimes you'd push the limit, and he'd have your back. But once you're home and out of the public eye, he'll give you a lecture about where you went wrong. It might take you a minute to actually hear him out because, let's face it, you're stubborn. But he's got his tricks to make sure you eventually listen, if you know what I mean.

People might raise eyebrows at your marriage because you two are total opposites. They whisper nonsense behind your back because of your straightforwardness and confidence, and that's something Leon doesn't let slide. That's when he gives a damn, because nobody gets to badmouth his wife.

"I heard Leon's wife is quite controlling. Poor guy can't even make a decision without her approval," someone remarked, their tone condescending.

"Excuse me," Leon quickly interjected. "Let me make one thing clear: my wife is not controlling. Decisions in our marriage are made together, as equals."

“And if I hear anyone disrespecting her again, there will be consequences. Understood?" His tone was firm as he addressed his subordinates with a hard gaze.

"Yes sir," the subordinates replied hastily, scrambling to return to their tasks.

This might have been the only instance he'd wield his authority as the top agent, but it was a line he wouldn't allow anyone to cross.

What really makes your relationship click is the mutual respect and understanding you both share, along with your shared drive and ambition. You get that his job can eat up a lot of his time, with weeks and even months away from home, and sure, it gets to you sometimes. But he's pretty good at making it up to you (material gestures and physical affection).

Leon really appreciates how you get his career demands, and he's all for you pursuing your own career path too. He'd rather see you doing your thing than stuck at home while he's away. However, if and when you decide to have children, he might lean towards the idea of you being a stay-at-home mom, though ultimately, he respects it's entirely your decision.

As for that tracker thing, it's not about being controlling; it's more about being protective. With him going on those risky missions, you like having a way to keep tabs on him and make sure he's safe. At first, he wasn't too keen on the idea, but when you explained how it eases your mind, he kinda got it. Plus, it's kinda fun to mess around with it sometimes, right?

“Hey, where'd you sneak off to earlier?" you asked with a mock sternness, tapping your foot as Leon entered the room. "Your little dot disappeared for a while there."

Leon raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "What are you talking about? I've been right here the whole time."

You narrowed your eyes playfully. "Oh really? Because according to the tracker, you vanished into thin air."

A grin spread across Leon's face as he produced a cup of boba from behind his back, "I may have noticed a certain someone was feeling a bit down, so I thought I'd surprise her with her favourite pick-me-up.”

“Aw, Leon!” you exclaimed, jumping on him and nearly causing him to drop the boba and possibly break his back in the process.

#leon kennedy x reader #death island leon kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy headcanons #resident evil headcanons #death island leon #✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚

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flowerandblood · 4 months ago

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The Lost Haven (11/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, sex content, smut, the angst, semi-public intimacy, cockwarming, description of someone being shot, violence, uncomfortable conversations, bad, bad things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He got his girlfriend back.

Not quite in the way he had imagined, but the thought of him being her boyfriend and her taking it seriously made him feel a wave of confidence after years of doubt.

It had to do not so much with the fact that he had gained what he wanted, but rather with the idea that although his grandfather had accustomed him to the thought that there was a path for him only by his side, he now knew otherwise.

Criston Cole had been the first person to reveal to him how tense the situation was among their men, how furious they were that Otto had decided out of sheer spite to bet on Aegon, his pawn, putting too much power in his hands.

Aegon's orders and the fact that some of their bodyguards now had to listen to him made them turn to him, looking for another alternative.

He was their alternative and presented them with his plan.

Having known them for so many years, aware of what their strengths and weaknesses were, he assigned them tasks, spreading his net over the city, slowly tightening the noose around all the places that had ever belonged to Larys Strong.

He had promised his Rhaenys that he would never kill or harm anyone again, at least not in the way he had done so far, so he decided to rely on his wits and logic. He offered the old owners to help pay their debts and cooperate with them in exchange for them giving up the clubs without a fight.

Those who did not agree experienced a loud gunfight and a bit of fear: he paid the police in advance to stay out of it, so no police car came to the addresses indicated even when someone called the police station.

His grandfather was furious and that pleased him most of all.

By focusing on the fight with Daemon he had completely let go of the subject of Larys' legacy and had paid the price. He also felt pride, because in a way he had regained what belonged to the father of the woman he loved, so it was also a tribute to her.

She only allowed him to see her once a week, but they wrote to each other constantly: he out of sheer longing, she to make sure he was still alive.

Sitting on the couch in Heavenly Beach, despite his employees sitting around him, partying with the girls who were apparently most attracted to gangsters, he sat with his head in his phone, writing a message to her, feeling like a teenager in high school.

He grinned involuntarily as he read her reply, feeling the thrill as he did every time she teased him.

She was trying to keep him at a distance and push him away, he knew that.

He swallowed hard when, a moment later, his phone vibrated and his eyes were presented with a photograph of her lying on her stomach, on her body only her panties and top, from under which a little fragment of her breast was peeking out, pressed against the sheet, her loose hair spread in disarray, her lips parted in a sweet, dreamy, warm expression.

He stared at the picture for a moment, feeling involuntarily that he grew hot, his manhood swollen in his trousers. He ran his hand over his chin, sinking into the world of his fantasies, having not been able to experience fulfilment with her for weeks despite her allowing him to touch her.

Partly.

"What are you doing, boss? Have some fun with us. Alice is lovely and lonely." Said Allan, embracing one of the girls, pretty and slim, who giggled quietly, looking him boldly straight in the face.

He got up without a word and went out the back exit to smoke a cigarette, dialing her phone number on the way. She didn't answer for a long time, as was her usual habit, but after a while he heard her sigh on the other end, indicating her impatience.

"– I asked you so many times – why are you doing this? –"

"– I wanted to hear your voice –" He hummed, taking a drag, tilting his head back, enjoying this moment.

Silence answered him on the other side.

"– my grandfather is trying to contact me – to make a deal – to make me his successor again – but I don't know if I want it – what do you think? –" He asked, taking a drag again, the tip of his cigarette turning red with a quiet hiss.

He heard her swallow hard, horrified by his words.

"– don't do it – don't go back there –" She whispered.

They were both silent for a long moment.

"– I'm worried about my mother – she's torn between Criston and her father, she's begging me to come back – she and Cole had an affair for many years, even before my father died –" He said indifferently, looking up at the sky, spotting the outline of a crescent moon among the darkness.

"– did you know about this? –" She asked shocked, and he sighed heavily.

"– yes –"

His girlfriend grunted, trying to speak quietly.

"– she's not part of all this – let her stay out of it – your grandfather's reign won't last forever – Otto wants you to worry about such things – he knows you love and care for her – he'll treat her and Helaena as bargaining chips –"

He nodded, letting out a loud puff of smoke through his nose, having exactly the same opinion as her, surprised at how much peace he felt.

She was the only one who could understand him.

She was the only one he could get advice from.

She was the only one he could trust.

"Thank you. Sleep well."

"I'm here for you." She muttered quickly, as if she feared he was about to hang up.

He hummed under his breath, extinguishing the remnants of his cigarette on the metal basket, feeling the warmth in his heart at her words.

"I know."

The next day, the sight of her in the library filled him with both euphoria and frustration – he knew she wasn't wearing a bra to annoy him, at the same time tempting him when he knew he couldn't take her, and wanting him to know that any other men could look shamelessly at her nipples.

All his anger at her and what she was doing to him vanished when she pulled her shirt off, her half-naked body covered from the others only by a few rows of bookcases.

Thank goodness it was summer and no one went there.

Her nipples were swollen and hard under his tongue, her breast plump and soft between his fingers. The smell of her naked skin, the heat that emanated from her, her hands clenched in his hair, holding him close drove him mad. His groan vibrated through her soft skin as he felt her hips begin to roll deliberately back and forth, rubbing against his throbbing, swollen manhood.

"– fuck, let me – please – just this once –" He mumbled, switching from one of her breasts to the other, slightly larger, which could not be seen at first glance.

The thought of being so close to her and yet not being able to have all of her, like he had then, that night, was driving him crazy.

This was her punishment for what he had done to her.

He sighed as she rose suddenly from her knees, putting her T-shirt over her head, his hand involuntarily going to her calf, wanting to hold her, his body hot with desire, his heart pounding like mad in his chest.

Not yet.

Just a moment longer.

"– baby –"

"– next week Professor Addams is organising a private excavations two hours away from our town – it's a site in one of the medieval fortresses of our region, very important and he needs volunteers – I've offered to let you come and to count it as your student practices, so that you would have to make up less of them during the academic year – professor will rent rooms for all of us in a hotel nearby – if you come and do your best, I'll let you sleep with me –" She said lightly, throwing him a calm, expectant look, like a teacher looking at her student.

He swallowed hard and stood up with her, shocked, his length pulsed hard at her words.

I'll let you sleep with me.

"– do you mean it? –" He asked with difficulty, unsure if he could stand it any longer, if he knew whether he could pass the next test she wanted to put before him.

"– yes, but it's two weeks – you'd then either have to give up your job, or drive to do your errands at night and come back in the morning –" She explained as if nothing had ever happened, grabbing her backpack.

He caught her around the waist and pulled her aggressively to himself, making her body slam into his, his heart in his throat.

"– promise me –"

Instead of words, she did what she'd forbidden him to do since they'd started dating: her wonderfully moist, swollen lips pressed against his, and he groaned loudly, shocked. He sighed, pressing her body closer to his as her slick tongue slid between his teeth, licking him invitingly, making his cock swell painfully hard in his trousers.

I'm not going to make it, he thought, I'm just going to rip her panties off and fuck her on the floor.

She, however, pushed him away, looking at him with her mouth wide open, in her eyes pleading, warmth, affection.

Everything he wanted so badly.

"– I'll write you all the details later – take it seriously –" She mumbled out with a pain from which he felt his heart squeeze, not knowing how to act, feeling with desperation that he was unable to wait any longer.

"– I love you –" He muttered, something in her gaze from which he grew hot.

"– I love you too –"

He stared at her like an idiot, feeling like he was running out of breath, because here she was, for the first time responding to his confession, for the first time saying those words.

I love you too.

He felt something inside him break, that if he didn't feel her right away he would just start crying.

"– I need you – please –"

"– be there –" She mumbled and walked out, leaving him alone.

He thought it was pathetic that he was so desperate that he hid his face in his hands and burst out crying.

He longed for her closeness, for her tenderness, and she only gave him moments when he craved hours, days, months.

He thought heaven and earth might collapse, but he had to go to these goddamn excavations, if only to spend two weeks fucking her all night.

"Two weeks? You shouldn't disappear for that long. The situation is precarious." Said Cole, shaking his head, sitting with him over a drink that same evening.

"I'll be available at night, I'll come by a few times to keep an eye on things. It's only a two-hour drive from here. This case is really important to me." He said, and Criston hummed with understanding.

"I'll do my best, but let's keep in touch."

He nodded at his words.

"Call if something happens."

Even the news that perhaps her ex would be part of their escapade couldn't spoil his mood: he wasn't sure he'd been this excited and terrified at the same time since he was a small child.

On the one hand, it was a dream come true for him, on top of it being in her company; on the other, it was a leap into the deep end of the unknown in a group of people who were strangers and who he didn't know if they would accept him.

He couldn't help the fact that he didn't like to talk much, that others' questions made him uncomfortable, that he felt cornered when too many people looked at him at once.

Nevertheless, as soon as he got the message from her that Daemon had been gone for a few hours, waiting a few streets behind the hotel so as not to arouse suspicion, he pulled up in the car park and got out of the car, looking around.

He thought she would be waiting for him, but he couldn't see her anywhere.

This made him do what he hated to do, which was to ask a stranger something.

A couple of students, looking at him with surprise in their eyes, showed him the way, telling him that his girlfriend was in the area where the research was to take place.

Walking there from a distance, he thought with awe that it was a huge project: there was a gigantic stone fortress towering over them, around which he understood there had been many wooden houses in medieval times, of which there was now no trace.

He swallowed hard when he heard her voice from afar and stepped uncertainly into one of the tents, all eyes on him.

He felt warmth in his heart seeing that she smiled at the sight of him, her eyes shining with pure happiness.

She loved him.

Not even the rage at the sight of Robb could take away the satisfaction he felt at what he had done to her, at the ease with which her body had taken him in as soon as the door from their hotel room had closed behind them.

He wasn't sure if his brain was functioning at all during this act, because he was too stunned by pleasure and desire, the simple, primitive thrusting into her again and again with low, pathetic groans of delight.

She was so wonderfully warm, moist and soft, squeezing and enveloping his cock so perfectly, that he felt like crying.

His niece.

That night they made love twice more, completely bare, with no shame or regret, no thoughts of morality or propriety. What he focused on were her moans, her cunt squeezing him in convulsions of pleasure, dripping with her desire, his lips melting with hers in sticky, loud, deep kisses full of their tongues and saliva, their fingers entwined together in a tender embrace over her head.

They fell asleep cuddled into each other like little children, stirring with difficulty on the single, cramped bed exactly as they had then, eight years ago.

He felt, looking at her peaceful face immersed in sleep every time he awoke in the night, that he had regained something.

He had regained her.

In the morning, to their frustration, their alarm clock woke them up. They were both sleepy and half-unconscious when they showered together, soaping each other's bodies and hair, brushing their lips lazily against each other's, running their hands over each other's naked, wet bodies.

There was something wonderfully natural about the way her figure clung to his, seeking refuge in his embrace, his arms pressing her against his body, his hand stroking her hair, her eyes closed in complete peace.

They both felt it.

His niece froze and blinked when she saw him start to dress, putting on exactly the same clothes as usual.

"No. After all, we will be working in sand and dirt. I told you to take something to change into." She said, and he scratched his chin, recognising that perhaps, indeed, his black trousers and Tshirt were not a good idea for such heat.

"I took my tracksuit bottoms and some other old clothes, but I won't look very neat in that." He confessed with embarrassment, rummaging through his bag.

She knelt down beside him, looking through his things together, apparently trying to find something that would be suitable.

"You have to be comfortable first and foremost. And you have to have a baseball cap."

"What?"

"I took one for you. Otherwise you'll get sunstroke."

It occurred to him, when he'd put on everything she'd told him to, that he looked like a drunk from under the shop. He was relieved when it turned out that she herself had dressed in a similar way, a white Tshirt and tracksuit shorts on her body, a baseball cap on her head, her hair tied up in a braid.

If they were going to look like drunks from under the shop, then at least together.

As soon as they reached the tent where they were all supposed to gather it became apparent that if he had come dressed the way he wanted to, he would have made an idiot of himself.

They all looked alike, dressed in bright, light clothes that might as well have been pyjamas. He pressed his lips together, spotting Robb among the other students.

He hoped he had heard her moans as he walked past their room.

How good she felt with him as he took her for himself again and again.

The professor greeted them and assigned them their tasks. To his surprise and relief at the same time, the man divided them into three groups. One was to be led by himself, another by Robb and the third by his girlfriend.

Her words that she was his assistant and how much the professor trusted her were not mere boasts, he thought with admiration.

He had, of course, been assigned to her group and was relieved at the thought that for the rest of his stay he wouldn't have to look at her ex any more than necessary.

His Rhaenys knew most of the people she worked with, who were simply her colleagues from the lower years of their studies. They had specific spaces designated for research and their task for the day was simple: digging.

Of course, the upper layers of the earth were removed by special excavators, but at some point they had to work by hand so as not to destroy any artifacts hidden beneath the surface.

There was something liberating and relaxing about the fact that this activity of driving a shovel deep into the ground and digging a big hole in it didn't require him to think too much.

After a few hours, he already understood why his niece had made him put a baseball cap on his head and why they had each brought a couple of big bottles of water for themselves: sweat was running down his back from the heat and from time to time he had to take a break to drink.

To his relief, even though the people in the group were talking to each other, fooling around and laughing, they didn't drag him into any discussions or distract him from his work. Rhaenys was digging too, approaching each person when they expressed the opinion that they might have come across some historical relic.

After only half an hour, one of the girls stumbled upon a coin from the 19th century.

The real excitement he felt was when his shovel hit something that clanked as if it were made of metal.

"Rhaenys?" He called, and though the people around him didn't know who he meant, his niece walked up to him, cocking her head in curiosity, her face all pink with exertion.

"What's wrong?" She asked softly, and he hit the spot he had just dug with his shovel again, intending to make the same sound.

His discovery piqued interest.

He crouched down, letting his girlfriend, more experienced and confident in what she was doing, take the smaller shovel, digging around the object, one of her colleagues took the brush, shaking the dust off its surface.

"It's a German pistol. Second World War. Very good condition." He stated, and his girlfriend nodded.

"Yes, the Germans were in this fortress in the 1940s. Good job, Aemond, secure it and sign it. Give this object a number as I explained to you this morning." She said, patting him on the back, and he nodded.

"Your first find. Feels cool, doesn't it?" Said the boy, whose name he understood was Cregan, but he didn't know what he was supposed to answer him, feeling uncomfortable at the thought that everyone was looking at him.

"Yeah." He muttered, looking down at his knuckles, for some reason losing the confidence he gained at night in clubs when he was about to put a gun to someone's head.

When he wasn't about to hurt or scare someone he was helpless and didn't know how to act.

They had spent the whole day doing manual labour and although his erection had swollen all over feeling her naked body pressed against his under the refreshing shower, he didn't even have the strength to move, let alone fuck her hard.

So he ended up making soft, tender love to her, his hips rocking lazily inside her, sinking again and again into the tightness of her sticky, throbbing cunt.

Her naked back was nestled against his sweaty chest, his face snuggled against the hollow of her neck as his fingers dug deeper into her fleshy folds with her quiver of pleasure, his free hand holding her thigh spread wide, allowing him to reach as deep as possible with the tip of his erection.

"– no – it hurts –" She muttered, and he froze and stopped moving, rising up on his elbow, his breath deep and heavy, his heart pounding fast in his chest.

"– what, baby? –" He whispered, placing a soft, gentle kiss on her cheek, wanting to make amends to her for whatever he had done to her. She turned her face towards him, stroking his bare arm.

"– when you're too deep – it hurts –" She confessed.

"– 'm sorry –" He hummed, their lips joined in a sticky, wet, tender kiss. He ran the tip of his nose over her face, his cock twitching deep inside her while his thumb teased her swollen clit with lazy, circular motions, her body twitching again and again in pleasure.

He swallowed hard as she rose up and slid his erection out of her, thinking with horror that she had had enough of him and intended to sleep separately, she, however, turned to face him. He sighed, surprised, as her fingers gently grasped the base of his manhood, all soaked from her wetness, directing the swollen, pink head of it against her slit.

With a tentative, slow thrust of his hips he opened her on his fat length, sliding into her slick walls with ease, sinking anew into her wonderful warmth that soothed him.

He moaned softly as she threw her arms around his neck, as her bare breasts pressed against his chest, as her puffy, sweet lips joined his in a greedy, deep kiss full of affection and tenderness. He sank his fingers into the soft skin of her back and buttocks, beginning to pound into her anew, feeling her completely differently in this angle.

They began to pant into each other's throats, licking and teasing each other, a wonderful shudder shook his body as her lips traveled lower, to his jaw, to his neck, to his shoulders, kissing and sucking on him, leaving wet, warm marks behind.

"– fuck – ah –" He exhaled, feeling his cock throbbing hard inside her fleshy walls, the wonderful tingling in his lower abdomen and testicles filling his head with utter emptiness, pure desire to fill her with his seed.

Their foreheads pressed against each other and their bodies intertwined in a loving, close embrace as they began to chase their fulfilment, loud, sticky splats building their way to release.

"– u-uncle – 'm close –" She mewled like a child, her sweet, leaking cunt beginning to clench on his cock, sucking it inside her. He kissed her temple, snuggling her into his body, slamming into her with loud grunts of pleasure.

"– me too, baby – my sweet little girl –" He exhaled and threw his head back, feeling a wonderful, overpowering relief, his erection beginning to pulsate deep inside her, filling her with his semen.

She moaned, rising and falling on his quivering erection, reaching her own peak with a innocent, girlish moan of delight, sending him into a state of complete ecstasy. They hugged each other, saying nothing more, not separating their bodies, wanting to remain as they were now, as close as possible.

The presence of her body right beside him, the fact that her sticky pussy was warming his soft manhood, his arms and hands entwined in a tender embrace made him sleep a stony, peaceful sleep, tired and satisfied.

To his relief, Criston had kept him informed of the state of affairs and it appeared that relative calm prevailed apart from a few minor incidents, so his presence on the scene was not necessary for the time being.

He took malicious satisfaction in the moments when his niece would be called by Daemon, wanting to make sure she was okay. She would talk to him on the phone while his hands traveled over her naked body, stroking her thighs, belly and breasts, his lips brushing gently against the skin of her neck, merely teasing her.

She usually tried to pull away from him when his thumb, seemingly by accident, ran over her nipple, when his fingers sank tentatively into her womanhood, leaking all over from her moisture and his spend with which he had filled her moments before.

Although he was a grown man, he felt like he was a child again.

In the days that followed, he felt that he loosened up a bit with the group of people he had to work with – he didn't talk to them and concentrated on his tasks, but it seemed to him that they simply stopped paying attention to him, which suited him. They were not spiteful or unpleasant about it: they apparently recognised that this was his nature and left him alone.

His Rhaenys was a different person at work: she smiled and joked a lot, easily having dozens of conversations with all sorts of people, even those she didn't know, winning their sympathy. He somehow admired how unforced her talkativeness, assertiveness and empathy were, how easily she made difficult decisions when others were panicking.

"– fuck – I think I broke it –" Cregan said, leaning over something that looked from a distance like a vase still half-buried in the ground.

"– call the restorers – get them to secure the cavities so nothing else breaks and they're able to put it back together later –" She said without a trace of annoyance or aggression. The boy nodded in agreement and stepped out of the big, wide hole they were sitting in, doing exactly what she'd told her.

"You're good at this." He stated as they sat alone at breakfast break under one of the trees, looking at the large stone fortress stretching out before their eyes.

Although their group sat elsewhere, she chose to stay with him, as she always did.

He felt an uncomfortable squeeze in his heart at the thought that, as much as he wanted to, he didn't fit in with neither her friends nor the world.

He was a perpetual obstacle to her, a wall between what she deserved and the miserable scraps she suffered in his presence through his vanity.

She looked at him and cocked her head, a wide smile on her face.

She was happy.

"What do you mean?" She asked, in some natural reflex cuddling her face into his, her hand on his shoulder. He kissed the tip of her nose, stroking her skin with his palm, feeling a subconscious surge of desire, as he always did when she showed him tenderness and interest.

"You're made for this job. For being with these people. But you need to sit with me instead." He muttered wearily, looking down at his fingers in shame.

"I don't have to. No one is forcing me to."

"You're afraid that if you leave me, I'll become the way I was. You're paying the price for my satisfaction."

She leaned in, wanting to look at his face, but he closed his eyes, feeling shame and regret, for some reason unable to enjoy it all, to relax, to let go.

"You would want this, wouldn't you? For me to disappoint you. To pack up and go home, to escape what is uncomfortable for you. Loneliness is safe, I know that better than anyone. But if you want to be alone, what are you doing here?" She asked.

He looked at her and shook his head, feeling tears burning under his eyelids.

"I don't know. I feel good and bad at the same time. I'm fulfilling my dream, I have you, but I can't enjoy it all because in the back of my mind I'm wondering if Cole is going to call me at night to tell me all hell has broken loose. It's like what's going on right now is a dream, and I'm aware that I'm going to wake up. As if I have to watch something I know I'll lose one day." He mouthed, bursting out crying, choking on his own tears. He covered his ears with his hands and leaned his head between his knees, panting loudly, feeling like he was just experiencing a panic attack.

"– God, Aemond – calm down – calm down, I'm here – this isn't a dream – my feelings for you – the fact that you're here – it's all real – don't you feel it? –" She asked in a whisper, enclosing him in the warm, safe embrace of her arms, pressing his face between her breasts where he took refuge.

He closed his eyes, concentrating only on her fingers combing through his hair, on her warmth, on her scent, on the softness of her body.

She didn't let go of him for a moment, stroking his head, neck and back, placing a tender kiss on his temple once in a while. Slowly his breathing calmed, the pounding of his heart slowed, and his body relaxed in her soft, caring, loving arms.

She let him settle on her thighs, let him snuggle into her lap: she stroked him like a small child, saying nothing, letting him just be, drawing on her closeness, her understanding, her wisdom and kindness.

He thought that if he could die now, in her embrace, he would be happy.

Her words and closeness gave him comfort and for that afternoon, looking at her from afar, sitting on the sand, he thought he was truly happy.

Truly at peace.

And then he saw five missed calls from Cole and one message from him.

"I'll go with you." She said, watching as he changed into his normal clothes.

"No fucking way." He growled, looking at her with impatience, wanting her to get the idea out of her head.

"I'll be waiting for you in the car. Don't leave me alone." She begged.

"No. I'll be back before dawn. I promise." He said, kissing her forehead quickly and left, feeling that if he looked at her again, he wouldn't be able to drive there.

Some part of him dreaded going back there, as if being in the light for so long would blind him to the point where he wouldn't be able to see anything in the dark.

Late in the evening, he arrived at Heavenly Beach and went inside, asking one of the bodyguards what had happened. The man nodded towards one of the lodges – his brother was spread out in the company of three girls enjoying himself at his best, buying everyone a round of shots.

"He didn't pay for anything, boss. He says you're the one paying for the booze and the whores tonight."

He moved towards him feeling his jaw clench in rage, the loud music around him ringing in his ears, the twinkling lights around him making him feel like he was about to vomit.

Aegon spotted him and stood up from the couch, pointing at him with his hand.

"Here is my brother. To him you owe such a great party tonight, applause for him!" He called out, the drunken part of the club guests echoed him in euphoria, but the rest were silent, looking at them with concern.

"I think my brother drank too much." He said coldly, towering over him after a moment, looking at him with a dispassionate gaze. "And he doesn't know that he's going to pay for what he ordered and the women he brought with him himself."

"And where's your woman? Hm? Our pretty niece. Did you know, guys, that he kissed her when they were kids? He was already fucked up then." Aegon sneered, taking a loud sip of whisky from his glass, embracing one of his women, a pretty, blue-eyed blonde with his arm.

His men looked at each other in dismay, apart from the background music all around them complete silence.

"Get up, take your whores and get out of my club. Now." He said in a voice that didn't bear objecting, but Aegon only laughed and sighed.

"You know what the worst part is? He's still fucking her. My father was lying dead and he was in the next room banging that poor girl. Tell us, did you rape her? You surely did, she would never want you of her own free will. But in what position? Missionary? No, no, I know! In doggy-style, like a hound. You have always been faithful like a dog. Woof, woof!" He scoffed, and something snapped inside him.

His brother froze, looking at him with big eyes as he pointed his gun straight at his forehead, the girls around him squealed in terror and broke out of his embrace, moving as far away from them as they could.

"– wow, wow, wow – calm down, have you completely lost your fucking mind? –" Aegon asked in a trembling voice, raising his hands in a gesture of submission, and for some reason he grinned broadly.

"– I didn't rape her – she wanted it – we did it a few more times after that – she was always good to me, unlike you – we're together now, you know? –" He hummed, cocking his head with an expression of satisfaction on his face, thinking in the back of his mind that this was who he just was, who he wanted to become.

He felt powerful, strong, invincible.

"– what the fuck are you talking about? –" Aegon muttered, shaking his head as if he thought his younger brother had simply gone mad.

He, however, had never felt his mind so sharp and focused before.

"– our grandfather made you his successor to reason with me – before our father died he said he would pass everything on to me and that was his original plan – but after Larys put the rape pill in her drink, I couldn't let him live – I don't expect you to understand that though – loyalty, devotion, affection – look at you – you must have pissed your pants with fear, am I wrong? – stand up, show yourself to everyone –" He sneered, raising his voice defiantly so that everyone could hear him.

There was complete silence all around them.

"– I said stand up –" He growled seeing that his brother was looking at him with big eyes red from tears, his mouth quivering in horror and humiliation.

Yes, he thought.

Feel what I felt.

He, completely naked then, standing up to his waist in water, his face all swollen from tears.

"– it's an unpleasant feeling, hm? – humiliation –" He said, watching as Aegon stood up slowly, the large, dark stain on his light-coloured trousers suggesting he was right.

He grinned at him and thought that such a lesson would be enough for him, lowering his gun, but his brother threw himself at him, climbing onto the table, wanting to get him with his own hands, and in a subconscious, involuntary reflex he fired.

His brother gasped heavily, as if surprised, and grabbed himself by the stomach, falling backwards onto the couch, another dark spot forming where he pressed his hand.

"– you fucking shot me –" He mumbled out, and he shook his head, feeling his whole body freeze, people around him screaming and running away, his and Aegon's bodyguards starting to shoot at each other, causing a general panic.

Cole grabbed him by the arm and started dragging him towards the side exit, saying loudly that they should call an ambulance.

He saw her sweet face, felt the embrace of her warm arms, her moist lips placing tender kisses on his face.

He thought that if Aegon died, she would never forgive him.

He promised her that whatever happened, he wouldn't be a murderer.

"– this son of a bitch has to survive – do you understand? –" He said and turned, running up the stairs, several of his bodyguards moving towards his brother, trying to stop the bleeding.

Criston nodded and pulled out his phone to make a call to the hospital.

By the time he walked him to his car the ambulance was on its way.

"– get out of here – hide somewhere – you shot him low in the stomach – I think he'll make it – I'll let you know when I find out something –"

He nodded and sit inside the car, hearing the gunshots again – Criston fell to the ground and hid under one of the trucks while he started to back up and with a squeal of tyres drove ahead.

Only now, heading ahead through streets full of lamplight did he wonder what he had actually done.

He had shot his brother.

He told him their secret.

Everyone heard it, Daemon would find out, and she would be in danger.

He swallowed hard, running his hand over his face, thinking that he just wanted Aegon to feel what he had felt for so many years, that he wanted to teach him a lesson, show him who was in charge, who was better, smarter, cleverer.

Who was the better son, the better brother, the better lover, the better man.

But for the first time he asked himself, was he really better than him?

He was just as scared, just as helpless, just as small.

He had nearly killed his older brother.

That thought, and the realisation that Aegon really might not have made it, caused him to burst into a loud, hysterical sob, and cover his mouth with his hand, trying to silence the sound that was coming from it.

As he drove ahead all he could feel was fear, fear of her gaze, her disgust, her rejection.

Why would she want to be at the side of someone like him?

When he arrived it was almost morning, dozens of missed calls from her and messages asking if and when he would be back were evidence that she had been up all night.

Before he walked into their room, he stood outside the door for a moment, wondering how he was supposed to explain this to her, what to say so she wouldn't tell him to pack up and get out of her life.

He had ruined everything.

When he opened the door he had the feeling that his whole body was quivering, stiff and tense: her gaze, her eyes and cheeks were red from tears, her eyebrows arched in pain told him that she was convinced that he had left her, that he had deceived her, that he had used her again.

She rose and wanted to throw herself into his arms, but he spoke up faster, not wanting to deceive her.

"I shot Aegon."

She stopped in her half-step, looking at him in disbelief, her expression seeming as if she hadn't understood what he'd said.

"What?"

He drew in a loud breath, feeling that he was a little boy again, a terrified child who had broken a very expensive, valuable vase and had to explain why it had happened.

"He was fucking mocking me. He implied that I raped you. In my own club. In front of my men." He muttered as if it changed anything, realising how pathetic he sounded.

The thought that he had lost everything again, that there was no way she could forgive him made him hide his face in his hands and just weep.

All he wanted was for her to hug him, to tell him that everything was going to be alright, that she knew he had hurt and abused him all his life, that she had witnessed it herself.

That she understood that something had simply snapped inside him.

"Is he...is he dead?"

He swallowed hard, trying to calm himself, his breath heavy and hitched in panic, his heart pounding like mad in his chest.

"I don't know. I shot him in the stomach and he's in hospital. He threw himself at me and scared me and I just fired. He saw I had a fucking gun in my hand!" He exclaimed as if he was ten years old and had just told his mum why his brother was lying unconscious on the floor after their fight.

"So you didn't kill him, did you? You didn't mean to do it. It was an accident. He scared you and you fired, but if he hadn't, you wouldn't have shot him." She said slowly in a trembling, terrified voice, and he lowered his hands, looking at her with big eyes, thinking that some part of him wanted to kill him then.

And then he remembered that after he felt that justice had been done, his hand with the gun lowered.

"– I – I just wanted him to stop laughing – he asked if I acted like a dog when I raped you – and I – God, baby, I told him about us in front of everyone – that we are together –" He mouthed, shaking his head, feeling completely naked, her expression of sadness and disappointment made him just sit on the bed, hide his face in his hands and cry, cry, cry.

"– I didn't mean it – I didn't know what to do – he wanted to humiliate me – me and you by spreading such rumours – I decided it was better to tell the truth than – I don't know – I'm so sorry –" He mumbled, himself not knowing where he was going with this thought, feeling a huge, cold emptiness.

He tensed all over hearing her footsteps, lifting his gaze to her, thinking for some reason that she was going to slap him.

She, however, knelt between his thighs, cupping his cheeks in her hands.

"– it would have come out eventually anyway – Aemond, I need to know what is going on inside your mind – if you –"

She asked, but was interrupted by the sound of his phone. He took it quickly out of his pocket seeing that his mother was calling him and swallowed hard feeling that he couldn't do it.

"– pick up – you have to do it, maybe she knows if Aegon is alive –"

But what if his brother was dead?

If he killed him with his own hands?

"– I can't – I don't want to –"

"– Aemond – prove to me who you are – take responsibility –"

He covered his face with his hand as he answered and put his phone to his ear.

"– is he alive? –" He muttered.

"– thank God yes – Aemond –" Alicent said, but he didn't let her finish, afraid of what she wanted to tell him.

That he had already been disgusting as a child and was a disgusting man now too.

"– I'm sorry – I'm sorry, Mum, it was an accident, I swear – he was drunk and he threw himself at me seeing that I had a gun in my hand and I just –"

"– I know – Aegon told me everything – he admitted he provoked you – but I don't understand how you could have let this happen – you are brothers – you almost killed each other for what? – for a few bags of drugs, thick files of money? –" She asked, and he closed his eyes, warm tears one after another flowing down his cheeks.

"– he said I raped her –"

Alicent was silent for a moment.

"– where are you now? – come to the hospital – apologise to each other, explain everything, start all over again –" His mother pleaded, but he wasn't sure if there was anything left that they could fix.

"– I don't know if I want to see him ever again, Mum – I want to rest – let him know I hope he recovers quickly and that I'm sorry –" He muttered and hung up, feeling he had nothing more to say to her.

His niece looked at him in pain, her hands on his thighs as she knelt between his legs.

If Alys had been sitting in her place, all he would have thought about was putting his cock down her throat, but in her case, there was something in her expression that made him crave something completely different, but equally intense.

"– please, embrace me –" He mumbled out, before hot tears again ran down his face one by one, his sobs so pitiful that she stood up quickly, frightened, and let their silhouettes fall together on the bed.

It wasn't until her arms hugged him into her chest, when his hands closed on her back, that he felt his whole body trembling.

"– close your eyes – breathe –" She whispered, pressing her cheek to the top of his head, her fingers combing lazily through his short hair.

He did as she said and tried to focus only on the air he was letting in and out of his mouth, all around them the quiet singing of birds amid the rising sun.

"– don't leave me –" He muttered, snuggling tighter into her warm, familiar body, her wonderful scent filling his entire lungs.

He heard her sigh softly, her hand stroked his back reassuringly.

"– I know how much you are suffering – I am here – you are safe now –" She said, and he felt his heart stop for a moment.

I know how much you are suffering.

I am here.

You are safe now.

He had longed to hear this from his mother, his father, his brother, from her for so many years that when it finally happened his body just froze.

"– I love you –" He whispered, however differently than usual, feeling like he was suffocating. "– God, I love you so much –"

His niece texted her friend that she and him had poisoned themselves with something and that they would come to work later, wanting him to take at least a little nap, knowing that he would fall into despair if she left him alone even for a moment.

He fell asleep only when he unbuttoned her shirt and cuddled his face between her bare, plump breasts, the warmth and softness of her naked body, her long fingers running over his head soothed him.

Despite what he feared, she understood him.

It's always been this way.

When she woke him, telling him she had to go, he begged her to just let him stay as he was, her skin warm and drenched with her scent, his body pressed against hers in a natural, vulnerable embrace.

"– I have to – I should have been there hours ago – but you stay, get some sleep –" She whispered, stroking his head. His eyebrows arched in pain as he shook his head at her words, roaming his hands over her body in a gesture of desperation, trying to stop her.

"– no – no –"

"– Aemond – please –" She said in pain, pressing him against her again hearing his heavy, loud breath, tears squeezing into his eyes.

She sighed.

"– come with me then –"

And he did, because he didn't want to be alone.

When they went outside for the first time she took his hand in hers, exactly like when they were little children playing on the beach. He tried to control himself, but the squeeze in his throat was proof that he wanted to cry again.

He was so exhausted.

"– don't work today – sit under the tree – I'll be next to you –" She said when they got there, but he shook his head and squeezed her fingers tighter between his own.

She looked at him with a gaze in which he saw everything – worry, affection, concern, sadness, understanding, desire. He felt his heart grow hot as his free hand rose to her face, running gently over her jawline, and she nuzzled her cheek into it, closing her eyes.

He leaned in and kissed her as if it was the most natural thing he'd ever done – her lips welcomed him with gentleness and tenderness, parting before his tongue, letting him slide it lazily inside. Her fingers stroked his neck as they clung to each other, sunk only in that sweet, sticky pleasure, humming contentedly, not caring if anyone saw it.

And then he heard it.

The screech of tyres.

By the time he heard her squeal and turned to see what was happening Daemon was already standing in front of him, his fist hit him in the face so hard that he fell to the ground, losing his hearing for a moment.

"– STOP IT –" He heard her scream as her step-father turned him onto his back, punching him with his fist again, again and again, warm liquid trickled from his nose, but he did not resist.

"– I promised you this –" He hissed with rage. "– I promised you that if you didn't leave her alone, I would kill you with my own hands –"

"– DAD, STOP – STOP, STOP, STOP –" She whimpered, trying to pull him away, several people interrupted their work, wanting to see what was happening, looking at this scene in disbelief.

Finally, professor Addams and Robb came out of the tent, hearing loud screams outside.

"– what is the meaning of this? – stop immediately, that's my student! –" The professor shouted. Daemon laughed and stood up from his knees, pointing his finger at her.

"– and that's my daughter and I'm taking her home –"

"– no –"

Daemon looked at her in a way that made her tremble with fear, his jaw clenched as tightly as if it was about to burst.

"– with you I will speak later –" He growled.

"– I won't go with you –"

Daemon wanted to grab her arm, and in a natural reaction he wanted to get up and protect her, however he was preceded by Robb, standing between her and her father.

"– she said no – she's an adult – should I call the police? – he can sue you for assault, you know that? –" He asked, a long, heavy silence fell around them.

He stood up, looking at him, then at her, Daemon's gaze fixed on her face.

"– if you don't come back with me, I can no longer protect you – you will break your mother's heart –" He said coldly, his words intended only for her.

He looked at her in horror, feeling his heart pounding like mad.

Her gaze when her eyes finally turned towards him was full of fear that because of him she would lose her future, her family, her peace of mind and everything she had before he stormed into her life again.

"– you promised me –" He muttered in a trembling voice, looking only at her, the only person who could give him what he desired.

She had promised him that if he tried, if he came here, if he changed, they would spend two weeks together.

"– I did –" She whispered and he felt his heart stop, convinced that this was it.

Their end.

"– let's get back to work –" She said and turned as if nothing had happened, heading towards one of the tents, startling him and everyone around him.

"– come here, I said! –" Growled Daemon, wanting to lunge at her and take her home by force, but Robb blocked his way again.

"– enough – one more step and I'll really call the police –" He threatened, her step-father's gaze shifting to his face after a moment.

He turned away, angry and pale, his hands clenched into fists as he got into his car and drove off with a loud screech.

Feeling his heart pounding like mad and not wanting to be left alone with Robb, he moved after her, adrenaline pulsing hard through his veins.

She had sacrificed herself for him.

Her family, her home.

Just for him.

When he stepped inside he wanted to embrace her, but she shook her head.

"Sit down. I'll get you some ice. Your cheek is all swollen." She said calmly, taking a few cubes out of the fridge and it was only then that he saw how much her hands were trembling.

"– baby – come here –" He whispered, gently placing his hand on the back of her head, and although she resisted for a moment, she finally allowed him to put his arms around her and cuddle her into him.

Her body was shaking.

"– I know, baby – it was very scary – I'm here –" He hummed tenderly, stroking her hair and back, his face pressed against the hollow of her neck.

"– I don't think I have anywhere to go back to –" She mumbled out with difficulty, heartbroken, and burst out into a quiet, exasperated cry.

He swallowed hard, hugging her tighter to him, coming up with an idea he knew their family would definitely not like.

"– you will live with me –"

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qwimblenorrisstan · 3 months ago

Text

Lesson Learnt Pt. 2 | John Price x Reader

Summary: After the initial incident that caused your meeting, Johnny sets you and Price up on a date at a little diner nearby.

Word Count: ~ 2.5k

Warnings: can’t say much w/o spoilers but random men, ghost being moody, Johnny being overly friendly, working in customer service…

A/N: idk what happened something possessed me when I made this, it was supposed to be fluff but then it exploded. hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

Previous | Masterlist

Weeks had passed after the initial incident, and your life had quickly changed.

You’d broken up with your toxic boyfriend, now wondering how you hadn’t seen it earlier, and why you hadn’t listened to all your friend's advice and thoughts on him. You’d moved out, blocked him on everything, and found a new apartment closer to your simple job as a barista. It was enough to keep the bills paid, for now. At least until you finally got out of college with your doctorate in nursing science.

Having been in college for nearly eight years now, and not living in the dorm (there were far too many incidents on campus for you to trust any sort of campus police, not to mention the generally shady system of coverups) made it a little bit harder.

Student loans were threatening to suffocate you, but for now, you would focus on one day to the next. All of this, the annoying days that drug on, or the hard times, would all be memories before you knew it, and it would be worth it. Or at least you hoped.

Today wasn’t one of those super slow-moving days where customers were ordering hyper-specific drinks or getting the suspiciously old lemon cakes, only to complain about how stale they were, as if you could do anything about it. No, today was relatively normal, customers minding their own business after ordering, coworkers having idle chatter.

“M’ taking my lunch break.”

You said to your close coworker, Laney. Her honey-brown eyes shifted over to you, and she nodded with a little smile.

“Don’t take too long, might miss some cute boys.”

She teased, knowing full well all of your opinions on relationships right now. You wanted to wait until you had a stable income and were out of school. She’d heard it only about a million times. You huffed a soft laugh, deft fingers untying the knot in your apron as you set it up on a hook, walking out to your car.

Lunch break was about 30 minutes, which was more than enough for you to drive to the nearest cheap restaurant and pick something up. Clicking your key button and heading towards where you heard the beep of your car, you opened the door, sliding into the worn leather. It wasn’t a new car, not by a long shot, but it was your old faithful, and it had served you well for nearly ten years in a row.

You started the car, muscle memory kicking in as you drove to that place right down the road from your work. It was past the chicken shop, a place you would refrain from visiting for a while after seeing some undercover cops staking out there one night.

You turned and pulled into the parking lot, glancing around before opening your door, only for the cold air to nip at your bare arms, when you decided to slip on the warm leathery jacket, with the fur on the inside. The one that the man, John, maybe, had given you. You’d lost the piece of paper with their numbers on it to the washing machine, but oh well. He didn’t look like the type to live around here, anyway, so it wasn’t like you were going to see him again.

Walking into the restaurant, you strode to the front, placing a quick little order and paying with your card, before choosing a small circular table in the corner to wait for your food. This place was usually quick. You idly scanned the guests. Two large men sitting together, chatting. An older woman and what was probably her husband seated with a younger man and woman. Maybe some sort of family double date? A nervous-looking teenager sitting alone, knee bouncing. An old, thin man seated at the far end, mumbling incoherently to himself.

Not unusual.

You pulled your phone out, idly scrolling through social media before your name was called, and you got up to go collect your food.

“You sure?”

“M’ tellin’ ya, it’s exactly what Gaz said she looked like.”

Simon glanced out at the girl his sergeant seemed so certain about. He wouldn’t lie, you did match the description pretty decently. Just as he opened his mouth to point anything out that fought against Johnny’s claim (just to spite him, obviously, not because he liked watching Soap get all frustrated and start rambling on for an hour on end), he noticed it.

“She’s wearin’ cap’s jacket.”

Johnny’s brows rose as he snuck another glance at you. You grabbed your tray of food, walking back to the small little corner where your bag was on the seat. You were wearing their captain’s jacket. The brown leather, the slight fuzz in the sides and insides, the buttoned pockets….he wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed it earlier.

“Hell’s bells, been wonderin’ where that thing went.”

Simon only gave a little grunt in reply, eyes narrowed on you before he glanced back at his food. He didn’t want to seem a creep. He already knew he was intimidating enough to the normal civilian, and one of his “I-want-to-eat-your-firstborn-child” glares (named by Johnny and Kyle) probably wasn’t helping.

“Sounds like Price’s found ‘imself a pretty birdie.”

Johnny lit up at those words, a devilish grin lighting his features, one that Simon usually only saw before he demolished buildings or people with explosives. He was already dreading it before it came out of his mouth.

“We shoul’ set ‘em up on a date.”

“No.”

“Don’ tell me it wouldn’ be a good idea. Might keep him from giving us so many sprints at training, yeah? Ya know he’s been overworkin’ us lately…”

The slight pause Simon took was all Soap needed to continue spewing his disarming, convincing words that usually always worked on his Lieutenant. His lips further curled into a grin as he went on.

“He’s been so tense lately, jus’ let us do this for ‘im, help him relax some…”

“Fine. Get on wit’ it.”

Simon finally relented, suddenly finding his food very interesting to look at as Johnny got up, striding over to you with a confidence one could only expect from the Scotsman.

He glanced up, trying to subtly watch as his sergeant approached you. You were on a call with someone, the phone held up to your ear by your shoulder while you ate your fries, the main entree of your order already gone. When Johnny walked up, you immediately sized him up.

Paranoid. Simon didn’t blame you, living on this end of town. The only reason he and the guys stayed here was for the cheap flats they could get when on leave for a few months. Price had a little house more up South, but never visited it much, letting it gather some dust.

You took the phone from your ear, muttering something to whoever was on the other end, and hanging up. You raised a brow at Johnny, who in turn gestured to your jacket and struck up a conversation. Johnny was trying to look unthreatening, he could tell. Sitting down so he wasn’t standing over you. A small, easygoing smile. Trying to make you laugh, and succeeding a bit.

Five minutes in, and you were seeming more comfortable with him. He wrote something down on a napkin from your table with a pen in his pocket, handing it to you, giving a teasing wink which you snorted at, and walking back over to his and Simon’s table with a huge smile.

“Wha’ did you just do?”

Simon asked, suspiciously eying Soap.

“I set our cap’ up with a date.”

He beamed, and Simon only sighed, knowing that Price wouldn’t take it too well to be sent on a date with a girl he’d only just met a few weeks ago. A girl that hadn’t texted him since. But maybe, just maybe, it would go decently.

That had been one of the strangest encounters in your life.

A Scottish man introduces himself as a friend of Price’s, saying something about working together at their jobs and telling you he recognized the jacket you were wearing. So much for not ever seeing John Price again, considering his friend had just set the two of you up, and given you the man’s number too. All the while the gruff-looking man had sat at Johnny’s table, watching the interaction.

It had made you more than a little nervous, but nothing had gone bad. The Scotsman had been friendly, and even funny, but not pushing too far.

And now you had a date on Friday night.

When you got back to work, off of lunch break, Laney helped you into your apron, tying the knot for you like she always did.

“You’re late, what took so long?”

She knew you weren’t usually ever late. Always on time, punctual, even. You managed your time properly.

“You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”

She grinned at that, nudging you with an elbow as you started taking orders.

“C’mon, spill it.”

And you did.

You began with the incident a few weeks ago, which she’d mostly already heard about, then told her all about the Scotsman and his friend, and finally the date on Friday. Right when you were about to finish the story, you felt your phone buzz, and you took it out to check it despite usually keeping it on Do Not Disturb. A text from an unknown number, but you knew who it was.

“Sorry for my muppets bothering you, they don’t know how to keep their mouths shut.”

You snorted in undignified laughter, replying while an older customer complained, mumbling something about ‘this generation and their phones’.

“I’m assuming you’re talking about Johnny?”

“Yes, the one that barely talks in coherent English.”

“Aw, he was funny. I liked him.”

“Don’t go liking him too much. We apparently have a date on Friday.”

“I’ll see you there, then?”

“See you there.”

You finally silenced your phone, slipping it back into your pocket as you went back to work with a noticeable pep in your step and a warm, fuzzy smile you offered to customers.

Laney certainly noticed.

When your shift was over, ending quickly, she talked to you while walking out to the parking lot through the back exit.

“I can help you get ready for the date, if you want?”

She offered. You’d be stupid to deny, with the impeccable makeup and fashion sense that she had.

“Sure, I can swing by at 3. That’ll give you plenty of time.”

“You have any shifts the rest of the week?”

“Barely. Just little half-times I squeezed in between lecturers. Last year’s always the busiest.”

“See you Friday, then.”

You beamed at her, sliding into your car as she walked to your own.

“See you Friday.”

Some of the days passed in a blur, some dragged on slower than ever before.

Eventually, though, Friday rolled around, and you were sitting in your friend’s chair as she did your hair, your makeup light, but good. You were wearing a simple outfit, some clean jeans, and a cute brown sweater over your white shirt.

It was 4:30, and you had only thirty minutes to haul your ass out to the nice diner the both of you were meeting at for dinner.

“It’s fine, I need to go. Seriously.”

Laney gave you a look, but reluctantly started putting all her things away. You hugged her, mumbling thanks in her ear, before grabbing your purse that had all of your things in it and walking to the exit of her quaint home.

You drive to the diner, finding the parking lot to have the familiar old car you’d seen Price driving in the first place. You parked got out of the car, and walked into the diner, only for the server up front to inform you that you’d already been paid for, and she led you to a table where Price was seated.

He’d tried to dress nicely, you could tell. Beard combed and hair done, dressed in jeans and a comfortable-looking dress shirt. He gave you a small smile as you slid into the booth, and there was already a tray of crinkle-cut fries in the center.

“Hope you didn’ mind that I ordered, big fella like me needs a lotta food.”

He said with a chuckle, and you grinned.

“I don’t mind, trust me, my older brother devours food like no other.”

He smiled, a little bob of his head before his brow raised in mild curiosity.

“You got a brother?”

A nod.

“Yeah, name’s Gary. He’s quiet, but we love ‘im for it.”

“Me and the boys are just about brothers, wish they’d be quiet for once.”

You snorted at that, taking a sip of your water before the waitress came by and you ordered your meal. Price’s was the first to come out, he’d ordered a full English breakfast that the diner somehow served, despite it being around dinner time. Yours came out next, and you both idly chattered about your life, family, jobs (he was apparently military and off on leave right now, not that you minded), and whatnot.

When he was about more than halfway through his food, his phone began buzzing, and his face went serious as he held a small finger up to you with a slightly apologetic expression, taking the phone call.

He listened, and you simply continued eating your food, not minding. Everyone had to take important calls every now and then, sometimes it just wasn’t avoidable.

He gave a few gruff yes’ and no’s, before sighing as he replied for one last time into the phone.

“I’ll be right there.”

When he clicked off the call, shoving his phone into his pocket, he gave an apologetic look.

“It’s an emergency, can’t stay. ‘M sorry.”

You nodded in understanding.

“Is everything alright?”

You asked, and he nodded, face set in what looked like a grim determination. He called a waitress over, paying the bill before you both got up. He gave you a light pat on the shoulder as you both walked out, right before you went to your car.

“We could do this again, if you’d like. With no interruptions.”

“I’d like that.”

He breathed an audible sigh of relief at that.

“I’ll text you when I can.”

Before he began walking to his car, getting in. You walked to yours, opened up the driver’s side door, and slid in before you saw his jacket sitting on the passenger seat. Cursing to yourself, you grabbed it, having it in mind to go take it to him before he left.

Before you could move, though, a hand clasped over your mouth.

A cold prick of pain in the back of your neck. Liquid.

“Don’t scream.”

A voice warned as if you could make any noise at all with a hand over your mouth.

An overwhelming sense of heaviness overtook you, and your vision began swimming, before turning black as your eyes fluttered closed.

“What’re we getting ‘er for?”

“Bargaining chip.”

Tags:

@yearninglustfully

@ashy-kit

@theoslove

@mayoforthewin

#writers on tumblr #cod fanfic #cod mwii #john price x reader #captian price #captain john price #captain price #price x reader

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screeching-bunny · 2 years ago

Note

Part 2 on the yandere General hcs

Yandere! General pt.2

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

Pt. 1

Yandere! General is a battle-hardened leader with a reputation for being unyielding and fierce. An unapproachable force with a bloodthirsty aura present in his mannerism. So it’s no surprise that he’s out of place in the king’s banquet filled with joyous laughter and people waltzing onto the dance floor.

He feels repulsed by just being there, who cares if the royal family personally invited him, he should have stayed home. There were just too many people with ulterior motives for approaching and it didn’t help that the princess had a crush on him. God how he hated her, she just never seemed to want to leave him alone. She is a selfish little brat who whines all the time and always seems to balance others for her atrocious actions. “Please stay the night with me, I promise I’ll make it worthwhile? I’ve just missed seeing your face, I want to spend more time with you.” Yep, he really wished he stayed at home today.

Deciding that engaging in conversation with the princess was not worth it, he simply just ignored her and made his way outside to the royal garden. There, he sees a figure dancing in the moonlight. The way you moved had him transfixed and in a daze. He silently stares at them and waits for them to finish their performance. This dancer is actually you. Now the question arises, why are you dancing and in the royal garden no less? Well the answer to that question is quite complicated, actually.

Your father is a low leveled noble in the aristocratic society. Who is power hungry and strives to raise their social standing no matter what. Everyone in your family hates you and rarely acknowledges you. The reason for this is because your father cheated on his wife with a lowly maid working in his manor and conceived you. His wife, now your stepmother, was enraged by this and ended up murdering your biological mother. She was, however, never caught or tried. The only reason why she kept you around was because she thought that you would be useful for future purposes. Your family never really paid much attention to you and you have an older half sister who absolutely despises you. She treats you as if you were a dog or some common slave.

Your life was extremely miserable but the only thing that seemed to bring you happiness was dancing. You first learned to dance when you were eight. When one day you decide to sneak out of your father's manor and go visit town. Luckily for you, it was during that time that a festival was being held and you couldn’t take your eyes off of the dancers and secretly copied their moves. It wasn’t until one of them noticed you and asked if you would like to join them. Ever since then, you have been secretly going to town to learn and improve your dancing skills. It’s not like your family even cared that you were gone, heck they didn’t even notice.

Many years have passed and your love and passion for dance is still the same. This tranquility, however, did not last for long because the moment you turned eighteen your parents agreed to sell you off to be engaged to a rich but very old nobleman. No amount of begging and pleading could convince your parents to change their minds. It was always met with the same response of “Don’t you know we need the money? Why are you being so selfish?!?! How else could we raise our social status, don’t you know your sister needs this in order to have a chance with the crowned prince?!?! Just be lucky that you're alive and that we feed you!” You have never been more depressed. You’ve always dreamed of marrying for true love, you didn’t want things to end up this way.

The news of your engagement broke in high society which had helped boost your family's prestige. You had briefly met your soon to be husband and had to force yourself to not cry. After the meeting, your father severely scolded you and it was decided that the next time the two of you would meet, would be on your wedding day. Due to your family’s higher social status you were all invited to the royal banquet that was created to celebrate the country’s tremendous victory in the four year war. You’ve heard rumors about it and how it was mostly won due to the general who easily sunk ten battleships in one day.

The moment that you stepped foot into that room, you immediately felt as if you did not belong. You were so out of place and everything was just so suffocating for you. You had to go outside and take a breath of fresh air. When you made your way outside you noticed a beautiful path filled with followers and decided to follow it. There you saw a beautiful flower garden, none like you’ve ever seen before. Being there just felt so peaceful and relaxing. You couldn’t help but just live the moment and dance in the moonlit sky. During that time, everything just felt so right in the world.

After you finished your performance, someone coughed in order to get your attention. Looking to the right, your heart almost shot due to fear, it was Yandere! General. He starts to compliment your dancing and the way you shined brighter than any of the stars that night. You both chat for a few moments when he just randomly asks out of nowhere, if you wanted to marry him! You honestly could not believe this man, why would you want to marry someone you just met. Without batting an eye you quickly reject the offer and before he could say anything, one of his men went to inform him that the king wanted to speak with him. Clicking his tongue in annoyance he agrees to go and tells you that he’ll be back.

Watching him leave, you swiftly make your way to exit the garden and decide to hide out in one of the restrooms. When Yandere! General gets back and immediately tries to find you but to no avail because you successfully manage to avoid him and leave undetected. This does not deter him because he has been there to find you and orders his men to help his search. By the time that the sun starts to rise he learns almost everything about you. Your age, your family, and your engagement.

That same morning Yandere! General makes his way towards your house and demands for your hand in marriage. Your parents are unsure about what to say, on one hand you being married to the general would bring many benefits but, on the other, they already agreed to you being married to the old nobleman. Your father tells him about your engagement and Yandere! General responds calmly with, “Don't worry, I’ll handle it.” In the afternoon he mails the head of your fiancé to your parents. Welp problem solved, guess you’ll just have to marry him.

Running away in this situation is useless, the only thing that you can do is to just accept your fate. With a heavy heart, you interact with him everyday getting to know your future husband.

There were of course many protests from the upper class of society. How could someone like him marry a person of lower status? It just wasn’t right. These complaints mainly came from the princess who was the most vocal about it. She loved him so much how he could do this to her. She tried to stop the wedding of herself but Yandere! General threatened to kill her. When that didn’t work he told the royal family directly that if she tries to interfere any longer, then he won’t hesitate to rebel against the royal family. After that, all attempts were stopped.

Your wedding day is very grand, there is not one speck of dust to be seen anywhere. Everything seemed so perfect, with the best of items that only money could buy. There, in one of the rooms stood you, putting on your wedding outfit with many maids swarming you like a pack of bees. As you walk to the altar you are greeted with the smiling face of your fiancé. It felt like such a blur to you, that you could hardly even comprehend what was going on. It was as if some sucked all the air out of you.

“Do you take Yandere! General to be your lawful husband?”

“… I do.”

Pt.3

#yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere general #male yandere #yandere oc #gn reader

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daisynik7 · 2 years ago

Text

Business Trip

husband!Nanami x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~1.7k

Summary: Nanami hates going on business trips now that he has you in his life. Even with food and hotel expenses paid for by his company, it’s not enough to distract him from the fact that he misses you. The two of you have the perfect solution for this, which includes a vivid imagination and the help of a little, but mighty, toy. cw: sex-toy use (vibrator), phone sex, explicit sexual content, language, Nanami is a bit mean, dirty talk, use of pet-names (honey, sweetie, princess), reader is called whore and slut (endearing lol), just pure nasty smut. Author’s Notes: More husband!Nanami smut! I was inspired to write this because I just purchased my very first vibe two weeks ago and boy, is it something. Hope you like this filth! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated! Thanks for reading! Divider credits to @/cafekitsune! Tagging the lovely @liliorsstuff-blog bc I love her and Nanami is her husband. 😉

Nanami has a hard time when he has to go out of town for a business trip. He never used to mind it before; in fact, he liked being sent away to a different city every once in a while, especially when the food and hotel expenses were paid for. However, ever since the two of you have been together, he dreads them because it means time away from you. And he hates being apart from you. Absolutely hates it. And to be honest, you hate it too.

This time, he’s sent to Osaka for a convention, staying at a swanky hotel covered by his company. He takes full advantage of this, ordering room service, indulging in a bottle or two of liquor from the mini bar. He even wraps himself in a fluffy robe after showering, sitting in bed with hair still wet at the tips. A single tap of his phone and he’s calling you, waiting a single ring for you to pick up. “Hi baby!” you answer, his mood instantly lifted at the sound of your cheery voice.

“How are you, princess?”

“Good. Just in our room now. How was your day?”

He spends the next several minutes recounting today’s festivities, including a funny story about him sneaking a second complimentary bento for lunch. You rant to him about your coworkers’ petty drama involving missing office supplies and stolen meals from the fridge. You both share what you ate for dinner, you complimenting the picture he sent earlier of the full spread ordered through room service. He sends you a quick snapshot of his current view of his hotel room, including his bare feet sticking out from under the robe.

“Your room is so nice. Look at your toes!” you laugh. “Are you going to sleep soon?”

“Not yet. Still waiting for my hair to dry.” He pauses, contemplating for a split second before asking, “Are you in bed now?”

“Yup, all snuggled under the covers.”

He smiles to himself, picturing you cocooned in the thick comforter the two of you share, curled to the right side of the bed where you usually sleep. “Do you miss me?”

“Of course I do. I miss you so much.”

Without thinking, he spreads his legs wider, getting more comfortable against the pillows. “I miss you too, princess. I wish I was there with you right now.”

“Me too.”

There’s a moment of silence, tension hanging heavy in the static noise between you. Nanami decides to stop beating around the bush. It’s obvious what you both want. You’ve been married long enough, together even longer, there’s no shame or secrets anymore. “Wish I could fuck you right now,” he confesses.

You moan through the speaker, thighs splayed, reaching towards your pussy. Tonight, you’re wearing one of his oversized t-shirts, his scent lingering on the fabric, making you feel safe and secure in his absence. You sink into the cushions, whispering a breathy, “Baby.”

“Tell me what you’re wearing right now.”

“Just your t-shirt and my underwear.”

“Oh yeah? One of your silky ones?”

You hum, confirming his suspicions as he loosens the knot of his robe, folding back the cotton to expose his hardening cock. “God, I bet you look so good right now.”

You giggle softly, lifting the hem of the shirt past your stomach, fingers brushing your skin delicately, imagining his instead.

His voice is low, thick with lust. “I want to hear you come. Can you do that for me?”

“Mm-hm,” you respond, slipping underneath the waistband, teasing your clit with the pad of your middle finger.

He clicks his tongue disapprovingly, already knowing what you’re doing. “Not with your fingers, honey. Use the vibrator, remember?”

A whine escapes your mouth while you reach for the drawer to retrieve the small toy, the one you bought recently to supplement nights alone like this. He was the first to test it out on you, though. Made sure it was good enough to satisfy your needs. The recent memory of him pressing the fluttering tip to your clit, pumping wet fingers in and out of your cunt, has you throbbing.

You push your panties past your knees, sliding them off completely at your ankles. With the blanket hastily stripped from your body, you spread your thighs wide, completely exposed from the waist down. A small bead of lube is just enough to get it slick. You rub the oiled tip up and down your pussy, finger on the button, anticipating the intense sensation.

“Don’t turn it on yet,” he demands. He wraps his hands around the base of his cock, slow strokes to start. “Tease it a little bit. Just like I do it.”

Your husband always likes to take his time with you, no matter how desperate and aching for him you are. And when you’re two hundred plus miles away from each other, you predict he’s going to draw this out as long as he possibly can, both for his pleasure and yours. Not that you’re complaining.

You play with your clit, tingling bud pulsing against the smooth exterior of the vibrator. He huffs, “Don’t hold back. I want you dripping onto to the sheets. Can you do that for me, honey?”

Another moan escapes your lips, envisioning the mess you’re about to make with his sultry voice guiding you through it. “I can’t do it alone,” you whine, finger right on the trigger, raring to go. “Help me, Kento.”

“I’m right here, princess. Don’t worry. Just listen to me, okay? Follow my every word.”

You nod, hypnotized by each syllable uttered from his lust laden lips, like an obedient slut. You’ve almost forgotten that you’re alone in bed, convinced he’s whispering filthy instructions directly in your ear beside you, watching you unravel with the dormant toy pressed to your pussy. “Can you turn it on now, honey?”

He’s gentle and affectionate in the beginning, hiding wicked desires behind endearing pet-names. Soon, he’ll start taunting you, tormenting you for being so fucking sensitive, so fucking needy. The two sides of him work together in perfect sync, angel and devil, both determined to make you lose yourself in the throes of passion. There’s nothing he loves more than seeing you, or in this case, hearing you, completely unhinged for him, and only him.

When you finally push the button, the low buzz playing in the background, he can’t help but increase the pace of his strokes. He pictures your thighs open wide, the shaking tip nestled between your delicate pussy lips, the vibrations stimulating your clit, radiating down to your pointed toes. Head thrown back into the pillows, cheeks hot, tongue sticking out in that adorable dumb expression you make whenever you’re being fucked. It won’t take long for you to climax, not when he’s on the phone guiding you as he jerks his twitching cock. Just the thought of your body spasming from exhilaration is enough to get him off.

“That’s it, right on your clit, honey. Does it feel good?” He knows it does, judging by how the only response he receives are your shameless moans. He chuckles, stroking himself faster. “I can’t understand you, honey. Does it feel good?” Still no reply, he growls, “Answer me.”

You choke on your spit, drool leaking from the sides of your lips. When you catch your breath, you let out a trembling, “Yes!”, resulting in another sinister laugh from him.

“Feels so good, you can’t even speak properly, can you? Too fucked out to even think, huh? Nasty slut.” His devilish side kicks in, hell-bent on hearing you orgasm, to have you coming so hard you spill onto the sheets. “I married such a whore, didn’t I? That’s what you are, a fucking whore. You’re so fucking slutty for me, I love it.”

You’re a whimpering mess now, the vibe sending you into a spiral, clit aching from the relentless tremors. There’s not a coherent thought in your brain; you’re incapable of admitting to him that you’re close. You let him figure it out when you cry out, “Fuck!”, legs quivering and stomach tight from the intense high.

“Give me your fucking orgasm, baby. Let me fucking hear it,” he spits out, sweat forming on his forehead. He’s since stripped his robe off entirely, laying on top of It while he masturbates to the sounds of his precious slut doing exactly what he wants her to do. What he needs her to do.

When you’re finished, you slide the toy lower so that it’s not directly on your sensitive bud. The fluttering tip starts making soft splashing noises at your arousal, indicating just how fucking wet you are. You place the phone right on your abdomen, hoping he can hear the lewd squelches from your pussy. For the first time since you began, you’re able to formulate a proper sentence, body relaxed into the mattress. “Can you hear it, baby? Can you hear how wet I am for you?”

He definitely can. “Ah, fuck,” he swears, fisting his shaft faster. His hand is not enough; it never is. But he lets his imagination do the rest for him. He knows how fucking juicy his pretty wife’s pussy is. Your perfect, luscious pussy lips puffy from overstimulation, covered in sticky sweet cum. He’d do anything for a taste of it right now, to run his tongue along your glistening folds, gather your slick and swallow it to quench his thirst. Dip his finger inside that gushy entrance only to stick it into his mouth, slurping every last drop. He admires the mental image before flicking his wrist with fervor, pumping his cock until he shoots his load onto his stomach.

The two of you stay quiet for a moment, the static noise and muted buzzing from the phone settling in the silence. Nanami looks down, inspecting the wreckage splattered across his abs, leaking down his side and onto the robe beneath. He runs his fingers through his hair, forehead tacky with perspiration, exhaling with a satisfied smile before calling out, “Honey? Are you still there?”

It's only now that he remembers that the low hum is from the vibrator, still buzzing against your supple skin. Reserved moans growing louder as you circle the toy back to your needy clit, ready for another round.

Nanami smirks to himself, holding the phone closer to his ear, rock hard again. It’s going to be a long, fulfilling night.

#kento nanami #nanami kento #nanami kento smut #nanami smut #nanami fanfic #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #Kento Nanami smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk nanami

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sissy-tyler · 1 year ago

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Today was the day; Sissy Graduation! Today was the day when dozens of wayward men officially completed their sissy-training and graduated as full-blown sissy, baby girls. Sissy Jacquelyn, formerly Jack, was one of this class’ hardest men to break, but once broke she became not only a model student and graduated top of her class, she also became one of the proudest sissies you’d ever meet.

As all the sissies scurried around the meeting area excited to finally get reintroduced to their former wives, now mommies, Jacquelyn spotted her mommy and hurriedly waddled over to her. Her mommy, Stella, gasped, taken aback by just what they had turned her former husband into, and she was overjoyed by it.

Stella embraced the little sissy in a loving hug as Jacquelyn made the cutest whimpering sounds she’d ever heard. Never did she think her husband would be excited to see her, let alone so excited that he’d start making whimpering sounds. She took a step back to analyze her sissy; pigtails, dress, tights, and all. She loved how cute, innocent, and pathetic Jack looked, and she intended on keeping him this way.

Stella heard footsteps behind her and before she could look back there was a quick, loud snap that immediately made Sissy Jacquelyn stand at attention. Stella, with her mouth agape, identified that it was one of the sissy school’s mistresses. Stella was dumbfounded; Jack was always hotheaded and didn’t take orders well, yet with the snap of her fingers this mistress had gotten him to stand at attention.

Stella took a breathe in order to ask the mistress how she was able to keep such control over Jack, but before she could get the words out the mistress spoke, “Sissy Jaquelyn,” her voice was stern, “You know what to tell your mommy.”

Jacquelyn swayed her hips back and forth as her dress danced, she looked embarrassed and sad, but finally said, “Mommy, I sowwy fow da way I tweated you when I was a man. It was such a good idea fow you to send me to da sissy schoow whewre I been wearning how to be a weawwy good girl. I pwomise I do better as your sissy!”

Stella was dumbfounded and didn’t know how to reply, so all that squeaked out was, “It…it’s okay baby girl,” followed by an awkward pause.

The mistress took this moment of silence to answer many of Stella’s questions about Jacquelyn, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Stella, sissy Jacquelyn has talked about you so much. Now, I’m sure you’re quite shocked to see Jack in this state, but I guarantee it will make more sense over time. I can’t get into the nitty-gritty details of how we made her like this, but let’s just say it was a lot of hypnosis and some drug therapy. All you need to know right now is that Jack has been turned into the beautiful, baby girl you paid us to make him into.”

“D-does he like being this way?” Stella asked.

Without missing a beat the mistress pulled out her phone and it looked like she was getting ready to take a picture. Before Stella could ask what she was doing the mistress looked at Jacquelyn and said, “Sissy, pull up your dress for mommy and the camera. We all want to see what a pretty, diapered princess you are!”

Without hesitation Jacquelyn shouted, “I wuv being a diapewed pwincess!”

The subdued sissy clumsily grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled it up, putting her diaper on display for everyone. Stella, still in disbelief, reached out to feel the diaper. “Say cheese!” The mistress said.

“TEEESE!” Shouted Jacquelyn in reply.

Find more, exclusive captions at my Patreon!

#diaper captions #humiliated sissy #humiliation sissy #sissybaby #ab/dl mommy #diaper bulge #mommysprincess #submisive sissy #diaper sissy #diapercuck #mommys little girl #mommy k!nk #hypnosis

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asterias-record-shop · 1 year ago

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—𓆩[cufflinks (s.r.)]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[join the taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Husband! Spencer Reid x Wife! BAU Profiler! Fem! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, angst

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 1.4K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - Spencer and a wedding ring never fit to you. The idea of marriage fit perfectly with him, but the idea of a band around his finger? No way. Instead, you both settled on cufflinks, both engraved with your initials and the latitude and longitude lines of where you both tied the knot. It wasn’t obvious though, not until a serial killer pointed it out.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - Cursing & foul language || mentions of sexual assault – not specific – please be wary || Y/F/I means your first initial idek || killer threatens Spencer through you || Spencer gets violent and angry || I think that’s it, let me know if you think any should be added!! ||

You didn’t have a problem with Spencer not wearing a ring, not one bit. He was always extremely open about how he rejected other women, always saying, ‘I’m married.’ to anyone who ever said anything to him. Besides, whoever paid enough attention could see how much he not only stared at you, but the way his hand would graze your waist when he went around you to write or pin something on the board.

At home or in public that was extremely far from the world of the BAU, he would wear a ring, the gold one engraved with the same thing – your initials, the lines of latitude and longitude, and as a bonus because it didn’t fit on the cufflinks, a line from your favorite poem engraved on the inner band.

On yours, besides the white gold band and your favorite gemstone encircled with diamonds, it had his favorite poem line engraved in the inner band as well. It was a later addition to your wedding ring, after your five year anniversary where he stole it and got it engraved for you.

This case though was different.

The killer was easily seen as misogynistic, especially in the way that he killed the women he did, specifically targeting married women and killing them after sexually assaulting them and leaving them in their bed before their husband woke up, or if he was gone.

This posed only one question – who was going to interview him?

There were different ways to go about this, you and JJ could go in as strong married women and tease him, or Matt and Spencer could go in as married men.

“JJ, Y/N – get ready to go in,” Emily says, inhaling as she stared at the man staring mindlessly at the two way glass. “We need to find out where Lucy is.”

“Got it,” you say, rubbing your wedding ring as you look over at JJ. “Ready?”

“Always,” she smiled, offering her hand for a fist bump before Spencer shook his head.

“I’ll go in.”

“What?” Emily paused, shaking her head. “No, you’re not-”

Spencer walked in before she could say anything else, quickly ordering Matt to follow him in as Spencer sat down in front of Ryan, the man they profiled to have been murdering these women after he killed his wife who cheated on him with his best friend, and best man at their wedding. Ryan’s eyes catch on Spencer who sat down in front of him, Matt standing and leaning against the two sided mirror.

“It was Agent Reid, correct-”

“Dr. Dr. Reid,” Spencer corrected, quickly fixing his cufflinks as Ryan’s eyes flashed to Matt and he smiled.

“My apologies. Dr. Reid. So, I see why they sent this… man in here, that shiny silver band on his finger, trying to intimidate me,” he moved to look at Reid. “But you… you don’t show obvious signs of being married.”

Spencer doesn’t break eye contact or move, that he could tell at least. “I’m not.”

Ryan smiles. “What’s her name?”

“Who’s name?”

“Your wife’s.”

“I don’t have a wife.”

“I don’t know if she’d like you rejecting the fact that you're married,” Ryan mocked him, copying his straightened form and interlacing his fingers. “Is she an agent?”

“How did it feel when your wife cheated on you with your best friend?” Reid’s question made Ryan’s face flash, Matt straightening slightly. “Must��ve hurt.”

“Not really.”

“Oh no? It didn’t hurt you enough to kill not only her but also your best friend and five other women who you thought resembled her? Women who were faithful to their husbands?” Reid leaned forward. “Unlike yours?”

Ryan swallowed. “None of them were faithful.”

“How so?” Matt finally spoke, Ryan smiling slightly.

“Does her name start with… Y/F/I?” Ryan tilted his head. “Was R the original first letter of her last name or did you change it?”

Reid tried not to react. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not married.”

“Is she an agent?”

“I’m not married.”

“Was she that H/C agent? She looks like my ex, I saw it the moment she came in busting down that door. It was kind of hot,” Ryan smirked, leaning forward. “Is she like that in bed, Dr. Reid? Or is she more submissive? You don’t look like the kind of guy that takes control, but damn would it be nice to see her beg-”

“The only thing that you’re going to hear begging is your own voice in prison when every man in there is passing you around like a toy,” Reid responded, tilting his head slightly. “Do you know where rapists stand on the totem pole, don’t you? And where you’re going… you’re going to be one of their bitches.”

Ryan’s smile falters as Reid smiles, tilting his head. “Where’s Lucy?”

“Who’s Lucy? I’m focused on that wifey of yours.”

“Could it be where you and your wife got married?” Reid asked, watching as Ryan’s eye twitched. That wasn’t hard.

Matt was already walking out as Spencer started to stand, Ryan leaning back in his chair. “Is your wife faithful, Dr. Reid?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Reid responded, glaring. He knew you were faithful, going on being married almost eight years, sticking it out when he was arrested and through worse things like his addiction. “Those who cheat aren’t built for a relationship.”

“If she cheated, wouldn’t you kill her?!” Ryan sat up, attempting to force his wrists out of the handcuffs. “They were all cheaters, all of them!”

“My wife would never cheat.” Reid finally let the facade crack, slamming his hands down onto the desk. “Just because a woman cheated on a stupid, narcissistic, misogynistic man like you!”

“I should’ve hunted her first,” Ryan snarled, glaring up at Reid as he laughed. “Shoulda gone for the pretty wife of Dr. Reid-”

Reid’s actions were quick, his hand flying forward to slam Ryan’s face into the metal table, repeatedly bashing him into the table before Alvez came running in, wrapping his arms around Reid’s waist and dragging him out of the room.

“Reid, Reid!” You rushed forward, quickly running forward to cup his face. “Spence, baby, calm down. Calm down.”

It was as though you snapped him out of a trance, his body going stiff as your hands softly held his face, thumbs softly rubbing along his skin as you looked back at Luke. “Thank you, Luke.”

Luke let him go as you quickly hold Spencer’s shoulder, pushing your hands down his arms to hold his hands and pull him to one of the private rooms, cupping his face as he immediately leaned into your chest. He inhaled sharply as he kissed your neck. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I am so so sorry. I hated… I hated thinking of you with him… him touching you, anyone touching you other than me.”

“No one will,” you whisper back, pulling away to cup his face once again and press a firm kiss to his lips. “I’m yours, Spencer Reid. Forever and always, no matter what. You see this ring? I’m yours.”

He inhaled, nodding as he leaned forward to kiss you softly, humming. “I think… I want a ring instead of cufflinks.”

His words make you giggle, shaking your head. “You sure? I can get you more cufflinks.”

He laughed slightly, nodding. “Okay. I like cufflinks.”

“Then cufflinks you shall have, my love. And I’ll add something to that ring you have at home, too.”

He smiled, nodding as he leaned down and pressed a firm kiss to your lips. “I’ll hold you to that, Mrs. Reid.”

You giggled, nodding as you pressed another kiss to his lips. “You better.”

Regular taglist: 𓆩[@lem0ns77]𓆪 𓆩[@cecepop15]𓆪 𓆩[@memeorydotcom]𓆪 𓆩[@your-favorite-god]𓆪 𓆩[@xyzstar]𓆪 𓆩[@just-my-shit]𓆪 𓆩[@your-mom21]𓆪 𓆩[@c78r]𓆪 𓆩[@dizscreams]𓆪 𓆩[@copypastedaphne]𓆪 𓆩[@asrt5]𓆪 𓆩[@xoxomoonlightbabe]𓆪 𓆩[@ineedmentalhelp123]𓆪

#asterias-record-shop #spencer reid #criminal minds spencer #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x fem! agent! reader

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ed-wwarren · 2 years ago

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Warsaw, Poland.

That’s where the good old U.S. Army was sending Captain Edward Warren. The war was turning south for the allies so it was all hands on deck in Europe. He was more than happy to leave and do his duty. He had nothing keeping him in America anyway. His mother died, his father was God knows where probably drunk or dead. He didn’t have any brothers or sisters and he didn’t have children. He just had a wife.

Ed had been nervous to tell his wife, Natalie, that they had to pick up and move but she seemed almost…excited at the thought. He found that odd but he didn’t argue because she was taking it well and they weren’t fighting over it like they had been fighting over everything in their marriage over the past year. They had been married for twelve years and he didn’t know at what point they had stopped loving each other, at what point they had turned from husband and wife to roommates, but he was always waking on eggshells around her and almost wanted to leave her in America but he couldn’t just do that to her. She was still his wife and he had a responsibility to her. He didn’t know when this war would be over or when he would get sent back to the states so she was coming with him.

Once they had settled into their home in Warsaw, they were given a tour by a few of the enlisted soldiers. As they drove through the streets, Ed felt his heart breaking. He saw so many shops and businesses closed, hateful things spray painted on the broken windows. He was happy to see there were nice parts of the city as well but he hated to see German soldiers sitting at the cafes. He just knew they were taking advantage of the poor people of Warsaw. They probably never paid for their food or things they needed and they probably took advantage of the women. He hated to think what they were grooming the kids to believe. He had seen glimpses of the propaganda the Nazi’s were playing about Jews being dirty and evil and filled with hatred, wanting the world to burn, and could hope and pray that no one really believed it.

“Oh, Ed, look!” Natalie had said, gently squeezing his arm to get him to look out of the same window she was. “Look at that cute little shop! I want to go in and buy some dresses! Pull over!” She demanded the soldier driving the car.

All of the men looked at Ed, unsure of what to do. This was an alright part of town but there were still Germans around every corner. Ed saw the excitement in his wife’s eyes for the first time in a long time and slowly sighed, nodding his head to the soldiers. “It’s alright. Pull over please.”

Once the car was stopped and her door was opened for her, Natalie hopped out of the car and walked to the shop like she wasn’t in a war torn country. Ed got out of the car and looked around before he noticed his wife was almost out of sight. “Natalie, wait,” He called, hurrying after her.

“Oh, Ed what are you worried for?” She asked with a chuckle, twirling in the street to look at him. “We are surrounded by your soldiers. We’re fine. I want to shop!” She pouted.

Ed pinched the bridge of his nose and gave her a look. “Have you not noticed all of the Germans that are also all around? Because there are a lot of them. There is a war going on here. Please remember that.”

Natalie rolled her eyes and sighed. “How about you go over to that little cafe across the street and I’ll shop. You need to have a drink and relax. You’ve been so tense since you got ordered to come here. Anyway, I won’t be too long,” She said before she kissed Ed’s cheek and walked into the shop without a second glance behind her.

Ed opened his mouth to argue with her but by the time the words were on his tongue, she was through the doors. He closed his eyes for a moment before he sighed. He looked at one of his men who was staring at him in worry. “Stay in front of this door. Don’t let her go anywhere else, okay? I don’t know why she thinks this city is so safe.”

The man looked nervous at having to possibly tell the Captain’s wife she wasn’t allowed to go anywhere but nodded his head anyway and stood in front of the shop door.

“I think I am going to go across the street for a drink. She stresses me out,” Ed said with a small and very tired smile. He had been so stressed out lately with this move and his marital problems that he needed to take a moment to stop spinning.

Ed walked over to the cafe across the street but unlike his wife, he walked slowly and cautiously, looking around. When he walked past a table full of Germans, he noticed the way they eyed up his uniform and started to talk in German.

That was good.

Ed sighed again and walked into the cafe, sitting at the counter. He felt…uneasy even with his men around him. They were outnumbered here no matter where they went. This was Europe not America and he couldn’t let his guard down no matter what.

Maybe he should just drink a tea….

@giftedclairvoyance

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astro-pioneer · 1 year ago

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dance with me, darling!

he always ends up upset after trials. he's glad you're there to help him through it. 『neuvillette』

"Oh dear," you muttered as the once clear sky darkened while rain pelted down from the clouds. You were at Café Lucerne, ordering a variety of sweets and drinks for both you and your husband before it started. "My poor little Neuv. The trial must've been horrible." Umbrellas were almost always a staple in Fontaine. The citizens have long grown accustomed to the rain that "coincidentally" follow after trials, so everyone carries one on days a trial is known to be held. You were no exception.

The walk to his office was longer than usual; carrying drinks and pastries with one hand in the rain is not ideal. Not to mention the increased foot traffic due to the children and adults rushing for cover. They weren't the luckiest today. Neither were you, sadly, since your destination required multiple sets of drenched stairs to get to. You managed though.

The guard smiled and waved when you entered, more than used to seeing you. You sent one back when you passed. The gestionnaires currently inside paid you little mind as well, which was more than fine with you. They have their own worries to be occupied with, especially the male at the first table - Iaune, you hummed - who always looks drained.

Sedene's wave caught your attention, stopping your walk into Neuvillette's office. "Ah, good afternoon Mx. (Y/N)! Monsieur Neuvillette just entered his office a little while ago. Would you like me to hold your umbrella for now? You seem to have quite a bit on you." The melusine already stepped out of the booth, removing the umbrella that was hooked around your arm before going back to her post. "I hope you can help Monsieur Neuvillette feel better!"

You shook your head before finally entering the office, seeing the nation's Iudex hunched over multiple files. For the first time, the male was looking physically stressed in the emptiness of his office. He barely gave you a glance with a small smile before he went back to slaving over his paperwork. "Oh, Neuvillette..." You were finally able to free your hands from the box of baked goods and cups.

His office stayed silent as you both just enjoyed being in each other's presence. Pastries and drinks lessened until there was nothing left in the to-go containers you brought. The rain continued to pound from the sky, the causer having not relaxed the whole time. Neuvillette looked up at the feeling of your hands rubbing against his upper arms and shoulders. "Come here, Neuv." He allowed you to take his hands and lead him to the middle of his office.

He stared as you placed his hand over your heart, allowing him to feel your heart beat calmly. "Dance with me?"

His eyebrow went up, "With no music?" Despite his confusion, he still followed your lead in swaying around in the center of the room. Slowly, his rapid heart slowed down to match yours as his body relaxed bit by bit. Neuvillette allowed his hand to leave your chest, moving it to the small of your back so you could be closer to him.

The sounds of raindrops slowly faded until it completely stopped, allowing the sun to reveal itself once again. You smiled as he pulled away. "I'm glad you're alright now," you confessed quietly, afraid if you spoke any louder you'd break the calm air between the two of you. "Would you like help with paperwork?"

He fully separated from you after leaving a kiss on your temple. "I'd appreciate it. Thank you, darling. Not just for the offer, but for everything." You hummed, grabbing one of the small stacks he had organized on his desk and sitting down closer to his desk. Another trailing kiss was planted onto your head before he, too, started again on paperwork. The nation of Fontaine didn't see any hints of rain for the next few days.

#✎ expedition #✩ neptune #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #neuvillette x reader

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tadpolesonalgae · 1 year ago

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Mer!Azriel x human!reader: The Dregs of Tragedy

A/N: Something about writing Az as a creature other than Illyrian just makes him end up being so cold and cruel and I have literally no idea where that comes from?

Warnings: Bitta’ blod, Az saves reader in a way, you have an awful husband in this

Word Count: 4,970

-Part 2-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

“If your husband hears you talking like that, he’ll string you up with the rest of them.”

You flinch at the imagery, but stay firm—were you even a fisherman’s wife without nerves of steel and a stomach made of iron? “I don’t care what you say. It’s barbaric either way.” Joanne shakes her head, hair pulled back from her face as the carving knife splits the fish’s head from its body. “It’s barbaric what they do to us, sweet lass. A sailor’s death will never be kind, but to be dragged below the waters by those clammy hands is not a fate I would wish on many.”

Quirk a brow, lips tugging up at the edges. “Would Hildebald be among those few many?” You ask, making the fishmonger’s wife shoot you a sharp glare.

“Do not ask me to speak poorly of him. The gods listen between breaths.”

“The gods lay back while we are beaten and bloody,” you say, carefully lowering your voice. “I fear them as much as you do, but I will not succumb to terror. Virtues protect me, I carry honour close and pray to valour for my husband’s safe return, but that does not mean I would be unhappy should he be snatched from my side.”

Joanne runs her eyes over you appraisingly, face carved deep with age lines, hair wispy and grey. “Listen closely, lass,” she instructs, “we have little power in what happens to us, don’t squander the hand you’ve been dealt, for many others would gladly take your place. Your husband works hard at sea, and has been parted from his gold to pay for you—and we all know your father put an unreasonable dowry on your head.” Her misty sea-foam eyes flicker about, on constant edge should the wrong ears catch the conversation. “Just be grateful for what you have, lass. Look to the skies and you’ll go falling over your own feet,” she hisses, a clear end to the conversation.

You open your mouth to speak back—just because he’s paid for you doesn’t mean he can bruise you bloody—but her watery blue eyes skip over your shoulder, just as a hard, heavy palm settles atop the skin, pulling you in close to a tall, strong body, trained and battered from the seas. “Fish for supper?” He asks jovially—it must have been a good sail. Turn into him, like a creature seeking protection from a vastly superior beast, tilting your head to peer up at your husband. “I got a fresh loaf from the bakers so I was thinking of a soup,” you say, pushing up onto your tiptoes to deliver a chaste kiss to his rough skin, coarse hairs scratching your cheek. “They even added in a fresh lemon to go with it all.”

Light, sharp blue eyes cut to you, something passing behind them that has your stomach sinking. “Of course they did,” he mutters, “it’s in their nature to covet another man’s catch.” He shakes his head, arm tightening around your ribcage almost painfully. “Joanne, you can accompany my wife to the bakers from here onwards,” he drawls out the order like he’s stood behind his ship’s wheel. He turns back to you, fingers stroking along the underside of your breast, eyes glinting. “A hag ought to even out the balance of your beauty,” he murmurs, and you attempt not to cringe as his hot, fishy breath fans across your face.

Instead you dip your head in a demure show of embarrassment, ducking away from the smell. “You find me beautiful because you spend your days at sea with only fish to admire,” you dodge the compliment like you’re expected to, the picture of humble grace. “I assure you, I am nothing much at all.” That seems to please him, squeezing you a little too tightly. “You’re the most beautiful girl in the town,” he says, greasy hand stroking your side. “That is why you are mine. I would not have picked you out if there was a better catch.”

You paste a shy smile onto your lips, tucking away a stray hair over your ear, gripping the wicker basket tighter.

The night will be unpleasant but blessedly short.

————

The surf is calmer today, fog rolling across the grey-blue landscape.

You shouldn’t be down at the cove so early in the morning, but you hadn’t wanted to sleep beside him for a moment longer. Desiccated, scratchy skin pressing to your back, a meaty arm pressed around your waist. So you’d come down to the alcove to clear your head, allowing the crips, salty air to clear your mind before the day ahead. Though sailors will soon be passing by, so you can’t afford to wait too long.

Release a heavy breath, staring out at the deep blue of the ocean, long since desensitised to the scent of brine and seaweed that makes inlanders cringe. The waves are slight, appearing almost still as you survey the view. Had it not been for the steady babble and crush of water, you might have believed the world to be frozen.

Your mind drifts to tales of the mer, stories told to every child to encourage fear and awe into their hearts. Of their cold and clammy hands, capable of pulling fully grown sailors from the docks should they stand too close to the edge. Of their damp, bluish skin, like an eel’s on their chest and arms, but scaled and sharp on their long, thrashing tails. Of their razor-sharp teeth, used to shred and tear at their prey before finally doing away with the catch.

But more than any other feature, folk melodies revolve around their deadly song. Said to be sung so sweetly it could lure any sailor to wish for his end to be at their cold, wet hands. To be dragged below the water’s still surface into their dark and murky layer, fed enough air to be kept alive and aware but never enough to resist as the flesh is torn from their bones.

You move forward, walking along the rickety platform, wanting to look down into the water at the end of the pier, despite the danger you’ve been warned about. The water is still high, but has already begun draining away, the tides lowering. You hum absently as you approach, an old tune that’s often strummed around celebratory bonfires, logs crackling and embers burning bright against the wet blues and greys of the sea-town.

Something catches your eye, ripples coming out from beneath the pier you’re stood on.

Brows furrow, and you walk forward quietly. Maybe a sea creature is hiding beneath the platform. A smile tugs at your lips at the idea—you’d like to see more of the animals when they’re alive instead of with their head severed into a slimy, bloody basket.

You lower to your knees as you come to the edge, muffling your steps so as not to scare it away, if there really is something there.

Peer over the ledge, gaze going to one of the two beams supporting the platform.

Eyes latch with coal black, ringlets of damp, silky hair curling over blue-tinted skin.

Lips part in a scream as you jerk back from the edge, scrambling away before it’s spindly hands come groping for your legs. Heart pounding, you thumb free the small dagger from a dress pocket, gripping it between trembling hands as you frenetically eye the waters below. Waiting for it to attack one side of the pier…to try and drag you under so it can feed on your flesh.

Breath clouds, tendrils curling from your lips as you tremble, replaying the depth of blackness in your mind, the deathly tint of its skin, the unnatural beauty of the lethal creature.

Nothing.

Utter silence.

Shakily, you get to your feet. Had you imagined it? There’s no way.

Heart pounding, you again make your way to the ledge, prepared to toss yourself back should its hands suddenly rise from the water. Swallow, gripping the dagger tight as you shift closer, enough to see a head of dark, slightly curled hair. No doubt the drying sea salt bringing out the waves.

Ease a shuddering breath as you again meet its eyes—charcoal black and utterly depthless. Designed to see in the deepest parts of the mighty ocean. That’s when you notice the tinge in the waters surrounding— him. It’s a male face. Dark lashes, smooth skin, cropped hair.

Eyes dart back to the sea, bleeding red around him.

You note the fishing wire that’s gotten him tangled to one of the beams upholding the platform.

He’s been caught.

Lips part in relief—he can’t hurt you. And yet— “You’re not singing…” you murmur to yourself, eyeing the soft-looking mouth of the creature.

Features coil, twisting themselves into something frighteningly fitting as lips pull back from teeth—dozens of tiny, shredding teeth, set in two neat rows with noticeably protruding incisors. You flinch back on instinct, but remaster your fear, reminding yourself he can’t move. Swallowing, you thank the gods for your iron stomach as you return to the edge. Dagger still gripped tight.

The wire has wrapped itself around his torso from what you can see—probably having gotten tangled first with the creature’s tail, then only constricted tighter as he tried to escape. Much like seaweed.

Brow tightens as the waves continue washing at the shore—the ocean’s draining. What will happen to him, if he doesn’t break free? His lips look dry now you’re peering closer, lines running beneath the stunning black of his vicious eyes. They can survive without being submerged in water for days, but the wire… How long has he been here for?

His mouth opens, and you freeze, tales of their deadly song returning, but instead of the painful melody you were expecting, what comes out is a rasping screech. Garbled and furious—a wet hissing noise, as if he’s seething his warnings.

There’s wire against his neck. Already slicing deep against the powerful column of his throat, stopping much of the noise escaping. You stare down at the creature, tangled and caught. A mighty beast that’s been stripped of any way to protect itself. You wonder if it fears or loathes the helplessness. Perhaps a little of both.

You peer into its eyes, the vicious fury contained within, like he’s already promising to repay the pain you’ll inflict on him tenfold.

Your throat rolls as you stare at him. He’ll die if you leave him—it’s a miracle of some kind he’s managed to remain undetected for so long, though you suppose not many people come down here. But what if someone else finds him?

A queasy feeling tightens around your throat as you imagine the tide sweeping out, gravity pulling the weight of his body down into those slicing wires, forcing him to rest in the tangle until the water returns to yield him to near weightlessness. But what if one of the sailors finds him?

You know what they’ll do. What they already do to the mer they catch. How they’re mutilated, then strung up in the air for the salty winds to whip at, for birds to peck at, slathered in fish blood and other small carcasses to draw creatures in. Sometimes fires are lit beneath their long, powerful tails. Slowly cooking them alive.

Hadn’t you been protesting against the brutality just the other day?

The mer struggles again, water rippling as he writhes, so certain he can break the man-made wire holding him. So desperate to do so.

You look around once…twice. Check no sailors have yet begun to pass over the paths that lead beside the shore. Slowly lower to your knees, gripping the dagger. Black eyes pick out the steel, and he thrashes more, hissing violently as his features are again carved into that picture of grizzly vehemence. Exactly how the stories have told them to be.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” you say clearly, slowly. If he’s smart enough to capture and kill fully grown sailors, he should have something to pick up on tone. Some kind of sense that will tell him it’s better to let you near than to go through with the fate he’s seemingly been dealt.

He hisses again, still baring those teeth at you, but he’s no longer struggling. No longer bringing the wire deeper into his body. It’s a good start. You just need to make sure he doesn’t grab you once cut loose. What a foolish way to go.

You breathe deeply as you move closer, reaching forward.

His muscles tense, tension tightening his shoulders as the blade nears him—it would be easy for your hand to drag the steel across his throat, but the very idea makes you uncomfortable. Watching murder happen and doing it yourself are still very different. You don’t think you could quite stomach that.

“I need you to keep still,” you say gently, clearly. If he makes a sudden movement with the blade so close… You slide it beneath the wire, placing the sharp edge to the restraints, pulling in attempts to get it to break. He hisses suddenly, and you realise it’ll be cutting into his throat so you change tactics, gently sawing until it snaps free.

The mer coughs, wet gasps being hauled down into no-doubt powerful lungs, spluttering as his gills spasm violently.

You can only allow him a little time before setting to work on the next one, further below the water, binding his shoulders tight to the post. Settle closer to the platform, aware of how his eyes silently track every angle of your movements. Whether to make sure you don’t attack, or to plan his own, you don’t contemplate. Just reach deeper, aiming for the next wire. Repeat the gentle sawing motions until that too snaps off.

A gush of relief washes over you as his upper body moves free from the bloody mess, but then he hisses and jerks back, pressing to the beam. His noise sounds strained instead of violent. A noise the product of lacerating pain. There’s most likely more wire tangling his tail, but— you can’t reach that.

The unearthly face tilts, dark eyes boring into you with urgency and— Great Gods. Hunger.

“What are you doing down here?”

You flinch at the rumble of your husband’s voice and the creature goes preternaturally still. As if he also recognises the sound. You could swear his skin leeches of the bluish tint, becoming colder and more translucent. The dagger drops from your hands, bouncing loudly on the wood of the pier. Settles at the edge, and you jerk away, turning to face the towering man approaching you.

Panic grips you as you spy a broad, pale blue hand rising silently from the water. Reaching for the blade.

You shift, angling your body to block him from your husband.

“I wanted to see if I could see the sea bed,” you explain hurriedly, managing what you hope is an appropriately embarrassed smile. “Sadly the tide’s in, so I think it’s too deep. Do you know when it’ll be out again?” You ask, trying to distract from the position he’d found you in. His brow narrows, heavy boots clunking over the rickety pier. “You shouldn’t be so near to the waters,” he mutters, moving forward and you hastily get to your feet, the dagger gone from the platform.

Bruising, meaty hands roughly grip your upper arms, forcefully turning you to face him. The smell of grease and hot fish washes over you and you fight your cringe. “Yesterday it was the bakers, today it’s the seas,” he mutters, “it’s not right for you to be this close to—” Follow the direction of his gaze, down to the edge of the pier.

He pushes you to the side, allowing him to galumph past, staring down to the post the mer had been tied to.

Watch his bulky silhouette as hands pull into flesh-beating fists, your bones already aching. “Is everything okay?” You ask softly, shaking your head to yourself. “I’m sorry for taking so long to make breakfast—I got sidetracked on my usual pathway. Let’s return home.”

He doesn’t move, the world silent save for the steady wash of waves at the shore. Your husband turns then, brows pulled into a hateful bunch atop sea-roughened skin. “Why were you peering into the waters?” His voice is low and blunt, eyes sharpening to glacial blue, regarding you with a hint of suspicion. You smile, “I told you, I was looking to see the bottom but the tide’s not yet out.”

Heart is pounding—could he have already known the mer was there? The bluish skin had almost drained, as if paling with fury.

Then he’s walking to you with intent, hands brutally gripping your upper arms, tight enough the bones trembling beneath his sailor’s grip. “Why were you peering into—”

Something gleams over his shoulder, grazing the muscle of his bicep as your dagger flies past, blood spitting onto the deck as the blade lodges into the wood. Cold blue eyes freeze, snapping from the weapon dug into the pier back to you. “That’s yours,” he accuses, lowly. “You set it free, didn’t you?”

“I don’t—”

His hand smacks across your cheek before you have time to prepare, the corner of your mouth stinging as something hot trickles down your chin. Lips part, raising your fingers to the drip-drop of blood.

“You set the damned thing free,” he rages, practically snarling with fury. Before you can do anything against it, he’s turning, gripping you so tight you’re afraid your arm will splinter. “Björn! Bertram!” He bellows, calling to the sailors that are no doubt beginning their morning routines. He’s muttering to himself, about capturing it again before it can get too far out to sea, dragging you along behind him.

You stumble, tripping up as you go, almost bumping into him as you’re roughly pulled back along the pier. He whirls on you then, backhanding you hard enough you almost careen backward. But his meaty hand is encompassing your throat, strangling tight as he pulls you close enough for his greasy, fishy beard to coarsely scratch your skin. “Stupid, foolish hag,” he snarls out, “you’ll be strung you and up cooked alive for that.”

Your stomach churns as you struggle, nails clawing at his knuckles, scratching deep enough to draw blood, more of it drip-dropping onto the rickety pier. You gasp for breath, rasping and clawing at his hand until he snarls, shoving you back. Tripping over your skirts, the back of your head smacks against the wood hard enough to have your vision blurring, white spots dancing through your view. Billowing grey clouds wash overhead, looking about to rain down.

Weakly, you push up from the damp platform, in time to see your husband pluck the dagger from the ground—what had tripped you up. Eyes flash with fury, flipping the hilt menacingly as he advances, drawing out the fear. You whimper, scrambling back until your hand slips over the edge, almost sending you tumbling into the murky depths. “I should have known,” he spits out, “there were whispers about your thoughts. I should have paid them more mind.” The dagger glints in his hand, so quickly turned to your own throat.

“I’ll take my time with you,” he mutters, “take the fingers that cut the fish free.” Flips the blade in his hand as he towers over you. Muscles coil taut, unable to move, unable to fight as the steel glitters beneath the overcast light. He moves to grab you—to take your fingers, to cut you up.

A deafening screech sounds, rasping and raw, then a pale blue shape leaps from the water. Jaws are unlocked to a monstrous angle, neat rows of sharp, flesh-shredding teeth bared as that giant tail thrashes with the force to propel him clean from the water. The muscled weight of the mer crashes into your husband, knocking him from his feet as he’s stolen beneath the water’s surface faster than you can blink.

The sea ripples in his wake, then calms to nothing, continuing to lap at the shore, hiding all traces of the deadly attack.

“Mer!” A bellowing voice roars, and your eyes are dragged to the beginning of the pier, two hulking sailors—Björn and Bertram—stood among the heavy, rolling fogs that have seemingly thickened out of nowhere. Their weighty boots thud on the deck as they begin storming forward, weapons gripped tight in case of another unseen attack.

Your heart beats in your mouth, fear and panic sweeping you under as you freeze with terror. You shift to move back, but have forgotten you’re already at the edge, hand slipping back over the ledge of the pier.

Eyes go wide, unable to scream as powerful, cold-blooded hands wrap beneath your arms, hooking over your shoulders and you’re dragged down beneath the sea’s surface. Water swallowing any trace of struggle as it seals overhead.

You thrash and writhe, hands shoving out as you try to free yourself from the iron grip of the mer that’s dragging you down to his sea bed. He turns you around, then cold, soft lips are settling over your own, breathing fresh air into your lungs. Tasting slightly coppery. You don’t question how it’s possible—they’re creatures of magic—just greedily gulp the extra seconds of life down as you feel his powerful body ripple with motion, muscle working as the large tail propels you deeper into the ocean, stolen away from the sea-town you’d grown up in.

Fear seeps into your blood as images of his tiny, shredding teeth flash through your head, the charcoal of his large, onyx eyes.

You should never have risked freeing him. He’s as cruel as the songs warn.

————

Spluttering as you break the surface of the underwater cave, your eyes ache from being squeezed shut for gods know how long.

Gulp down air to fuel your panic driven heartbeat, briny salt water stinging as tears drip down your cheeks. You quickly blink them away, unable to dry your eyes thanks to the cold water having soaked your clothes, down to the bone. His tail moves in strong motions, keeping the both of you afloat, yet he hasn’t bitten down. Mouth remains shut, as if waiting for you to ready.

Peel open your gaze, instantly latching onto his dark eyes, glittering black as he watches you silently. The oddly shaped ears either side his head twitch, looking like the webbed feet of some of the marine birds you’ve seen. Birds that have feasted upon mer flesh when it’s been strung up to be picked at.

As soon as you can manage, you’re trying to writhe away from the creature, but the stories haven’t done their strength justice. It’s like being held by stone, muscle as unforgiving as the cold, jagged rocks the surf crashes upon. Dread sets in, spiralling your mind as you thrash against his grip, desperate to spare yourself from the horrible fate of his gently prying teeth.

“Let go of me,” you plead, trying to squirm out of his hold, eyeing the hewn rock that makes up the underwater cave, seemingly being kept in an air bubble. Gaze returns to gleaming black in time to see as a transparent film blinks across his eyes, making you startle, yipping as you flinch away in horror. Teeth catch on the edge of your mouth with the recoil, reopening the small wound, courtesy of your husband, vision again blurring with the sting.

You struggle as he starts moving, but he’s pushing you toward the ledge of the rocky cave, not dragging you below—deeper into his layer. Breathing stutters as your back presses into the jagged rock, his blue-tinted hands spanning your hips, turning you around and pushing up from the cold sea. You scramble away so quickly you graze your knee on the sharp rock, splitting skin as blood begins seeping into your skirts.

Wince at the pain, but push as far back as you can, finding the stone now to be surprisingly smooth, as if carved away. Breathe heavily, shivering against the icy temperature of the submarine cave, hugging your limbs close by as the mer watches silently. Tears helplessly drip down your cheeks, teeth chattering as you try to put a stop to your crying. You’re a fisherman’s wife, for goodness sake. Were a fisherman’s wife?

Throat rolls as you push back into the smooth wall of the cave. “What did you do with my…with Alaric?” You manage through trembling jaws, lungs spasming with the cold.

The question appears to aggravate the mer, lip curling at the name alone. “He’s alive,” the male rasps, throat straining to create the syllables of speech. You stifle your surprise—yes, you’d known they could sing, but you’d assumed it was in some ancient tongue, fitting for their ancient species. Swallow down your fear, curling tighter in on yourself. “Why have you brought me here?” You manage, voice thick and scared even to your own ears.

He swims closer, resting powerfully muscled arms upon the rocky ledge, tail swaying idly behind him in the lagoon. It’s then you truly take in the cave he’s brought you to, kept alight by luminescent greens and blues, crystals lining the ceiling, the sea lighting up with every small movement, as if mixed with melted moon wax. Tendrils of breath curl before you in misty swirls, teeth chattering more as shivers wrack your body, not all of them solely from the frigid air.

“You saved my life,” he rasps, jaw resting atop his forearms as he watches you.

“So you trap me in a cave?” You manage, trying to fight off the feeling of your fingertips beginning to frost over. He merely blinks at your question, that translucent film sliding back and forth just beneath his lids. “So I saved yours,” he correctly neutrally, a hint of arrogance in his dark eyes.

Brows knot together in confusion as you stare at the male. “You—… You’ve trapped me.”

“Your husband would have killed you,” he rasps, cold eyes sharpening with what you can only assume is hatred. “I saved you.” You shake your head, unaware of your lower body. “You took him because you were hungry. It served your own purposes.”

Incisors glitter beneath the icy blues of the cave, gleaming as his lip curls. Extends his arm, cold-blooded fingers stretching out as if to grab you. “Shall I return you?”” You huddle close to the wall, curling away from his deathly touch. “I’ll freeze to death if you take me through those waters again,” you hedge. “Besides, you might change your mind along the way, and—” You cut yourself off, noticing the red of his tongue. Swallow, hoping it’s not left-over blood.

His ears flutter, noting your gaze, lips pulling back as he swipes the flesh-roughing muscle over gleaming teeth. “And?” He asks, quietly taunting as the edge of his mouth quirks. As if daring you to voice the dreadful tales of his kind. Your lips purse, instead turning your attention to trying to contain your warmth. The mer shifts, as if about to slide back into the water.

“Wait!” You call out, having him pause, glittering onyx eyes turning once again to your figure. “Where are you going?” You ask, unable to entirely keep the fear from your voice. “Away,” he answers in that still raspy, raw voice of his. “I’ll be back,” he adds with a croon, tail swishing beneath him, arms running through the water as if revelling in being reunited on friendly terms. Panic sets in—if he leaves, he might never return. Might very well forget about you entirely. Leaving you to freeze in a subterranean sea cave, rotting away with the grime and stale water, all alone.

“Why did you bring me here?” You ask frantically, not wanting to be around him, but not wanting him to leave either. You don’t want to die here.

Ears twitch again, watching you silently, observing like he’s waiting for a sign to show. He returns to the ledge of rock leading down into the freezing waters, again settling himself atop the hewn stone. “You know what he does to us. What you all do to us,” he rasps, close enough for you to pick out the still-healing slices on his throat. “You know how you hate us, and you know how they hate anything that does not hate with them. You knew how they’d hate you too. So why meddle?”

Skin prickles at the intense look he’s giving you, feeling as though judgement is being passed.

“I didn’t want your death on my conscience,” you mange, lips long numb from the biting temperature. He blinks slowly, the only shift in expression he shows, the rest of his features blank as a still day at sea.

“Don’t try to escape. You’ll drown yourself,” he rasps bluntly, pushing away from the ledge, returning to deeper waters. “Just wait. I’ll return.”

The mer swims to the middle of the pool, dark eyes gleaming. “Eventually.”

Then he’s swallowed in a flash of silver, darting away to one of the submerged tunnel openings, navigating his way out to open ocean. Stomach tenses, listening to the laboured heave of your breaths and the quiet hush of waves. Curl tighter into yourself, praying he returns before the warmth entirely leaves you, already unable to feel your legs or hands.

Teeth chatter in the quiet of the cave, leaving you to wonder how far below land you are.

How deeply he’s already buried you.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

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pedroshotwifey · 9 months ago

Text

To The Flame chapter eight

Series masterlist

Pairing: Dark!Javier Peña x Fem!reader

Chapter w/c: 3k

Chapter tags/warnings: smutty smut, nasty dirty talk, slight angst, manipulation through isolation (hehe), piv sex, unprotected sex, stuff im forgetting

Chapter summary: Things were finally perfect; of course they never stay that way.

A/N: Hey babes! This chapter is really kind of setting things off, and I swear to you that we're going to get dark in the next few, and it's downhill from there. Just needed to get her in the perfect place first >:). This is yucky nasty, so I hope you heathens like it!!

****

You wake up alone for the first time in a week this morning, already missing your husband’s heat.

It’s your second week living in your new house, but Javi was only able to take that one last off to help you get everything settled. He let you decorate for the most part, which was wonderful because you basically just ordered him around for muscle.

He was so sweet and helpful the entire time, not giving you a single complaint at all. You want the couch to go against the opposite wall? He’s on it. Need that picture in the dining room hung higher? As good as done.

You think there’s only a couple boxes left to unpack in the guest room, and then you’ll be done. It’s mostly small stuff, apart from a dresser that needs to be assembled, so you should be able to do it yourself before Javi gets home tonight.

Mentally planning your day, you stretch and yawn before pulling the covers back and sliding from the bed. You decide as you get dressed that you’ll make a batch of muffins for breakfast, that way Javi will have something quick to grab when he leaves for work in the mornings.

You make your way to the kitchen, yawning again even though the clock shows it’s past nine. You can’t lie to yourself, it’s been nice having the entire day to do whatever you want, without having to worry about getting the bills paid. It was a little hard to transition into not working, but Javi takes such good care of you that it’s hard to stress about it.

You keep waiting for the day where you feel the urge to find a job again, but it hasn’t happened yet, and you’re not eager to rush it. You really do think you can get used to this whole ‘staying at home’ thing. Especially now that you and Javi aren’t being particularly careful about sex anymore. You need to be prepared to stay home with your kids whenever that happens.

You’re not rushing that either, if you’re being honest, but you wouldn’t be upset if you found yourself pregnant. It makes you smile, thinking of mini Javis running around your house, playing in the pastures or on a tire swing hung from the big tree out front. Javi would make such a good father too; he’s so thoughtful and attentive.

You sigh as you start to mix ingredients for your muffins, turning on the radio beforehand to distract yourself. The last thing you need right now is baby fever, you’ve just taken a big life step already.

You hum along and sway your hips to the soft music as you work, occupying your mind by trying to mentally plan how you’ll be decorating the guest room. A few moments later, you slip the tray into the oven and set the timer before heading back down the hall.

The room is mostly put together; the last of the belongings mostly small decor or whatever didn’t fit somewhere else in the house. It was unspokenly decided between you and Javi that this room would hold the junk closet.

You open the first box and find that it contains pictures. You don’t mean to snoop too much, but you can’t help but analyze each one. They’re mostly old family portraits, though a couple of them are just of dogs, which confuses you as much as it makes you laugh.

You realize once again how strange your situation is as you pick out Javi’s siblings and parents. How is it that you’re married to a man whose family you’ve never met? The only relative you’ve heard him talk about before is his dad. You wouldn’t want to pry though if it was a sensitive topic, so you decide on waiting for him to open up to you when he’s ready.

You’re just finishing propping up all the photos on their shelf when you hear the timer go off from the kitchen. The muffins are perfectly done, so you pull them out to let them cool off. You glance at the clock and decide that you’ll have enough time to plant some flowers.

Javi had made these absolutely gorgeous wooden planters for you to put outside the house, and you’ve been waiting until you had time to yourself to fill them. Javi also assisted you in picking out what flowers would go in there—orange Marigolds. They look beautiful in contrast to the white siding of the house.

Since you’ve moved in, you’ve fallen so deeply in love with the old farm house. It’s honestly the house you always pictured as a girl when you would dream about your future. The big porch, the intricate vintage details, the rolling hills in the background. You just can’t believe that you’re here already, that Javi brought you here.

You get misty eyed thinking about it, gratitude swelling once again in your chest. Your eyes land on the flowers laid out to be planted and you realize you’ve been smiling like an idiot. Shaking yourself out of it, you flip on the radio you brought from the kitchen and get to work.

You savor the feeling of the sun beating down on you and the gentle breeze cooling you. It feels so nice to be outside with this weather when you’re not working your ass off on a farm.

The rest of the day is spent exactly as you had it planned. You finish planting, wash up a bit, finish the guest room, and read a bit before you have to start dinner. It’s a relatively busy day, but it doesn’t feel like work. It’s nice, getting things done in your own house.

You have just enough time to get dinner ready and pop it into the oven before you hear the front door open. Your stomach flutters as a grin spreads across your face. You had a great day, but nothing you did could top the feeling of being in your husband’s arms.

“Javi?” you call out as you start to walk back to the entryway, wiping your hands off on a dish towel. You wonder if he can smell what you just put in the oven—it’s his favorite. You grow a little concerned when he doesn’t answer right away.

“Baby?” you ask again.

Javi is silently toeing his boots off when you round the corner and walk to him. Your stomach drops along with your dish towel when you see the somber expression on his face.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” you ask gently, stepping toward him and reaching your hands out. He meets you halfway and pulls you into a comforting hug. You can feel the way he deflates against you as if all of his stress suddenly disappears when he holds you.

The combination of his raw emotion and the way he uses one hand to smooth down your hair makes tears spring to your eyes. You’re not used to him looking so distraught.

“I have some news, carino,” Javi says after a moment. His words are quiet but you can sense the urgency behind them. You loosen your grip to allow him to take a step back. He crouches down slightly in front of you so that you’re looking down at him.

“I received my promotion today,” he says, taking your hands and watching your face scrunch in confusion.

“But isn’t that a good thing?” you ask. “I know how long you’ve been waiting for this, Javi. What’s the matter?” You don’t understand why he would be upset by such a thing. Javi nods and takes a deep breath.

“Yes, baby, it was supposed to be a good thing. They offered me almost double what I’m making right now,” he says. By his tone of voice, you can tell that there is more to be said.

“That’s great,” you say, though it sounds more like a question than anything. “What do you mean ‘offered’?”

“They gave me a choice,” he says after another deep breath. “I only get the promotion if I relocate.” you jerk your head back slightly. What kind of shitty deal is that? He must see your train of thought in your expression because he quickly elaborates.

“I don’t have to accept the offer, of course, but I won’t get the promotion if I don’t. Things will just stay as they have been.”

“Well, where do they want you to relocate?” you ask even through the sour taste in your mouth at the thought of leaving this house. You don’t like the look he gives you when you do.

“Colombia,” he looks hard into your eyes as they widen.

“What, like West Columbia? The city?” you ask, bewildered. “There’s no way they mean... They can’t do that, can they?”

Javi sighs again and nods. You wish he would stop doing that.

“Not the city, sweetheart. And yes, apparently they can,” his words are gentle but with a bitter bite as he lets go of one of your hands to cup your cheek.

“But we just moved in,” you say, your voice sounds small as you look down at him. He gazes back at you, and you can see the desperation in his eyes. He wants this so much, and you can’t be the thing that holds him back, no matter how much it sucks for you.

As much as you might not want to move again, you would do anything for your husband. He’s done so much for you, it’s the least you could do. You owe him so much. Still, there’s that painful twist in your chest at the thought of leaving all this behind when you just got it.

But you know that if it were you in his position and him in yours, he would tell you to take the promotion in a heartbeat. You’re being selfish right now, you need to think about what he wants. You can’t disappoint him.

“I know, baby. I asked if I could have a few days to think about it so I could see where you would be on it. I can still tell them no.” You flinch slightly at the impatience ebbing into his tone. It’s hard to pick out, but it’s there. It makes your cheeks heat and you feel for a second like a child being scolded. You don’t want him to be upset with you.

“No!” you say a bit too quickly. “Sorry, I just-” you struggle to find the words. “I want this for you, Javi, and I’m here to support you in whatever you choose. I know how badly you want this, and if you decide to relocate, then that’s what I want, too.”

He smiles up at you, and you can’t help but to smile back. It’s true, you’ll do anything for him.

“Are you sure, sweetheart?” he asks, his eyes unable to hide the glint of hope that shines in them.

“Yes, of course I’m sure. I’ll start packing tonight if you want,” you giggle and lean down to slot your lips with his.

He wraps his arms around you as he stands up, picking you up with him. Your legs instinctually cross at the ankles behind him.

“Thank you, baby,” he says once he positions you so that your back is against the wall. “Knew you would understand. You’re too good to me.”

You perk up even more as he praises you. All the annoyance has left his tone and you allow yourself to take a breath of relief. There’s a clear admiration in the way he looks at you right now, his eyes softening as he slowly dips back down to kiss you.

He thrusts his hips forward, stimulating your clit with the bulge in his jeans. You moan into his mouth as you grind down, seeking more friction. Your lips feel swollen when Javi releases them to suck at your neck.

“Oh, Javi, more, please,” you beg, making him chuckle lowly.

“I’ve got you, baby. Gonna make you feel good,” he whispers into your ear, making you shiver.

He wastes no time on unbuttoning your pants and letting you down to slide them down your legs along with your panties. It only takes a second before you’re right back where you started, only this time without anything between your cunt and his cock but his own pants.

“Gonna get you ready for me, pretty girl,” Javi says breathily as he brings his thumb up to circle at your clit. You keen as he immediately begins to rub in hard and fast motions.

As if that wasn’t enough, he takes his thumb away for only a second so he can gather spit in his mouth and lean over you to dribble it right over your sensitive bud. You gasp as the saliva begins to cool from the air of the hall.

Suddenly, his thumb is back, continuing its assault.

“God, feels s-so good,” you moan as Javi starts to nip and suck at your neck again, no doubt leaving a gathering of hickies behind. You can feel your toes beginning to curl and heat rise to your upper body. It’s not going to take long before you’re coming for the first time tonight.

“Fuckin’ soaked already, baby. Gonna make it so I’ll slide right in. My perfect fuckin’ girl. Always so good, so ready for me.”

Javi’s rambling sets you off, you don’t even have a chance to warn him before your body begins to tremble. You’re pretty sure you shout his name between moans, but it could have been anything.

“There you go,” Javi praises. “Such a good girl, so pretty when you come for me.”

You hear the rattle of his belt buckle as he shifts your weight to his other hand and one of his thighs. You look down as he tugs on himself, his red tip poking out from his fist as he moves his hips to line his cock up with your soaked cunt.

He grips your chin and kisses you fiercely as he pushes in, shoving his tongue into your mouth at the same time. Your sharp whine is smothered by his tongue licking into you, and your eyes roll to the back of your head from feeling so full.

He thrusts up heavily, effortlessly knocking the breath out of your lungs with each slam of his hips. Your back jots up the wall despite Javi’s best efforts in bringing you down to him. He lets one hand trail up to cradle the back of your head so that it doesn’t hit the wall with the force that he’s shoving up into you with.

“You’re so tight for me sweetheart, taking my cock so good,” he pulls away just enough to breathe out the words.

You clench around him, still not used to the filth that spews from his mouth when he gets his dick wet.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ love that don’t you.”

You nod as much as you can while focusing on the way his tip is punching into your cervix. You can feel another orgasm approaching, and you start to tense and keen from the intensity of it. Your legs start to shake around him and Javi increases the grip he has on your hip.

“There you go, take it just like that baby girl,” he grits.

You let your head rest on his shoulder, weakly mouthing his neck, salty and slick with sweat. Your arms tighten around him in an attempt to hold on, but you can feel your mind numbing from the euphoric feeling building up in your abdomen and spreading through the rest of your body.

“Give it to me, I can feel it baby,” Javi groans, picking up his pace. The increase makes the slaps coming from where your bodies have fused together echo through the hall, your wetness splattering on your thighs with each smack.

There’s a sharp tap to your clit with each thrust, and you’re coming around his cock with a scream before you realize you’d been that close in the first place. You feel your body melt as your husband nips at your jaw in an attempt of holding his composure.

“Oh that’s so fucking good sweetheart, come all over my cock just like that. Messy fucking pussy,” Javi continues to talk you through it, bringing the hand from your head back to your clit as you moan wildly.

“Who makes this cunt feel good, huh?”

“Y-you do, Javi, you do,” you cry as you come back down from your high.

“Yeah? Who’s cock? Who’s cock do you fucking cry on?”

“Ah—Yours, Javi!”

“Goddamn it—such a g-good girl…”

You nod into his neck, your brows furrowing as he keeps pushing up into you. He slams one hand onto the wall beside your head to hold himself up for balance as he pummels into you to bring himself closer to the edge. Javi grunts and groans into your ear like a mad man, rapidly chasing after his pleasure.

You barely register an overstimulated tear run down your ruddy cheek at the feeling of his cock continuing to spread you open and nail that spot deep inside of you. A pleasured sob escapes your closed mouth as he keeps manipulating your limp body.

“Gonna come in this pussy, fill you up so f-fucking full,” he claims right before his pace begins to falter. His hips jerk and he comes with a muffled grunt, his fingers gripping you hard enough to leave bruises for later.

He lifts your head and takes your mouth again, moaning into your swollen lips as he stills inside of you. It’s a complete mess, all tongues and teeth clashing together out of pure hunger. When he pulls his head back, you’re both panting and staring into each other’s eyes with heavy lids, both of you thoroughly exhausted. Enough so that you don’t recognize the burning smell floating down the hall until now.

Javi’s eyes narrow as yours widen, your mouth falling as well. He glances down at where you're still connected to make sure you’re not hurt.

“What’s the matter?”

You bite your bottom lip, waiting for him to smell what should have been dinner. He gets it after a moment, his eyes softening and a—dare you say giggle—tumbles from his full lips.

“Yeah,” you confirm his silent suspicions, smiling despite the inconvenience. “You might need to go grab us some dinner.”

****

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