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slutsukio · 9 months

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study date. (bf!armin x blk!femreader)

in the heart of academia, where the fragrance of knowledge lingered, you and armin ventured into the sacred realm of the campus' library, bright and early─ 5 o'clock in the morning to be precise. the atmosphere was charged with the palpable anticipation of impending final exams, a collective buzz of students immersed in the rigors of preparations for a plethora of upcoming tests. amidst this sea of focused scholars your eyes met a diverse array of individuals engrossed in their respective studies.

the daunting task that loomed before you and armin was the mastery of ASL by the approaching monday. while both of you possessed a foundational understanding of the basics ─ the fluid conversations, the nuanced expressions, and the art of signing in tandem with spoke words ─the nerve-wracking reality emerged from the knowledge that seven seasoned and professional sign language interpreters would scrutinize your skills and presentations.

in the light of this challenge, the hours unfolded as a crucible of dedication and meticulous practice. each minute, you and armin delved deeper into the intricacies of ASL, refining your signs and perfecting the synchronicity of your expressions. the library, once merely a backdrop for academic exploration, transformed into a haven for the relentless pursuit of linguistic finesse.

as the hours progressed, the weight of the imminent presentation hung in the air, motivating both of you to strive for nothing short of perfection. the goal was clear ─ to deliver a flawless performance that would not only showcase your proficiency in ASL but also captivate the attention of those seven discerning interpreters.

the clock had barely struck noon when you and armin decided to take a respite from your intensive study session, finding a quiet alcove amidst the library's towering shelves. releasing a contented sigh that resonated with the weight of a momentary relaxation, you indulged in a luxuriously deep stretch, your body unwinding like a cast basking in the warmth of the sun.

as your muscles surrendered to the stretch, you shifted your gaze toward armin, a genuine smile playing upon your lips, a manifestation of the unspoken joy derived from the simplicity of the moment. with an appreciative glint in your eyes, you deliberately took in the details of his features─ the sun-kissed strands of his blonde hair, the depth of his cerulean eyes that held a multitude of stories, and the subtle allure of his soft pink lips.

observing the rosy hue that painted his cheeks in the aftermath of maintaining prolonged eyes contact, you couldn't help but notice the subtle yet undeniable impact it had on him; a silent exchange that lingered in the air like an unspoken connection. the shared laughter that followed echoes with the resonance of newfound understanding, a bridge of camaraderie spanning the distance between you. in the wake of this unspoken exchange, a question lingered on the tip on your tongue, and as you parted your lips, you felt the weight of curiosity intermingled with the delicate dance of unspoken words.

in the cocoon of that tranquil pause, you breached the subject of mutual aquaintances, "how's connie doing these days? i heard about what happened at the game, sasha told me, and i heard he popped his leg out of place. is he better?" the concern in your inquiry echoed through the air, a testament to the bonds that tethered your lives together and the genuine interest you held for the well-being of your friends.

armin released a heavy sigh, the weight of concern evident in the furrow of his brow and the weariness that seemed to settle on his shoulders, prompting him to scoot his chair closer to the table, running his fingers through his silky hair, he began to unravel the table of a recent mishap, unfolding a narrative of injury that went far beyond a mere inconvenience.

"the doctor had to pop it back in place," armin disclosed, his voice carrying the echo of empathy for connie, "and he has to walk with crutches for the next three weeks." the gravity of the situation hung in the air, casting a somber shadow over the room. armin, who continued to relay the complete picture, continued, "then, on top of all that stuff, he has to do physical therapy before he can even entertain the thought of being back on the field."

as armin shared this intricate web of challenges and setbacks, you couldn't contain the spontaneous "damn," that slipped through the air like an unintentional sigh. this unexpected outburst, accompanied by a chuckle that escaped your lips, lingered in the atmosphere, a momentary lapse in the gravity of armin's narrative that perhaps wasn't needed at that exact juncture. realizing the time of your reaction, you quickly offered a sheepish apology, "sorry." the word woven with a sincerity but also a half-assed awkward laugh, seeking to mend the delicate fabric of the conversation.

in response, a soft smirk danced onto armin's face, a subtle acknowledgement that, despite the seriousness of the shared tales, your momentary lapse had added a touch of unexpected levity to the exchange. "well, boohoo for him," you continued, your voice taking on a playfully dismissive tone as you sought to downplay the weight of armin's challenges. "like i always say, it aint none of my business-" your sentence hung in the air, poised to continue, but before you could add another layer to your commentary, a sassy ahem cut through the air, the unmistakable sound of the librarian's disapproval punctuating the moment with a touch of stern interruption.

the librarian's gaze, sharp as the edge of a well-worn book, fell upon them— a silent warning echoing through the air and casting an almost tangible aura of disapproval. feeling the weight of that stern scutiny, you exchanged a perplexed look with armin, your eyes seeking answers within the depths of his expression. turning back to the librarian, a subtle ballet of facial expressions unfolded— your eyebrows knit together in a quizzical fashion, followed by a dismissive eyeroll that conveyed a mix of frustration and nonchalance. with a dismissive shake of your head, you refocused your attention on armin, seamlessly resuming your conversation with him despite the looming disapproval.

undeterred by your nonchalant disregard, the librarian, an imposing figure draped in an air of authority, advanced toward your secluded corner. her disapproving gaze now took on a vocal form as she delivered a speech about the perceived disrespect you two were displaying, disrupting the studious ambiance for other diligent students. despite your strategic position tucked away from the prying ears of your fellow scholars, the librarian seemed determined to voice her disapproval.

as she embarked on her lecture, you prepared a retort, ready to stand your ground against the unjust accusation. "first and foremost-" you began, a spark of defiance in your eyes. however, armin, ever the voice of reason, interjected, offering a sincere apology in a bid to diffuse the escalating tension and avoid further trouble.

the librarian, though not entirely convinced, graced you both with a half-hearted smile before waddling away, a symbolic retreat but with lingering scrutiny, watching over you like a vigilant dog guarding its territory. seizing the momentary reprieve, you kicked armin's leg, a clandestine exchange in the aftermath of the librarian's watchful gaze.

in the tense silence, you dared to challenge the silence. you signed to armin, "that strict bitch got me fucked up." your fingers moving with precision. armin cracked a smile, and a soft laugh, before it was contained with his serious face— which he could not hold. a daring comment on the librarian's serious countenance elicited the first whispers of shared laughter.

armin, his expressive hands translating his thoughts into graceful features, embarked on signing soliloquy, articulating the depth of your disdain towards the librarian and how he found it both audacious and amusing. even as he chastised you for the audacity of your words— well in this case, signs, —a subtle symphony of amusement played on his lips, manifesting as a soft chuckle that gracefully danced through the air with each sign, weaving together the threads of his disapproval and shared amusement.

your frustration bubbled over as you signed back to him, a clear expression of discontent etched across your face, "i don't care how mean it is, she should've waddled her saggy-titty ass over to those kids over there who're munching so loudly you can hear it from a mile away." the intensity of your annoyance was palpable, yet a paradoxical twist of humor tugged at the corners of your lips as your fingers signed your frustration.

in the midst of your evident frustration, a peculiar phenomenon unfolded – laughter, like an unexpected gust of wind, swept through the solemnity of the moment. the dichotomy between your exasperation and the absurdity of the situation struck a chord, and an involuntary laugh escaped your lips. this unexpected release triggered a domino effect onto armin, who, caught in the whirlwind of conflicting emotions, joined you in a symphony of laughter.

hands instinctively rose to cover faces and mouths, desperately attempting to stifle the burgeoning laughter, but it proved futile. laughter, contagious and unrestrained, echoed through the air like a rebellious melody. in the shared absurdity of the moment, you and armin found yourselves caught in a loop of hilarity, your attempts to quell the laughter only intensifying its persistence. the library, a bastion of silence, momentarily surrendered to the raucous symphony of mirth you both unwittingly orchestrated.

as the librarian, her patience threads worn thin, strode over to our secluded corner, the air in the library seemed to tense, much like the yellowed pages of a time-worn volume about to surrender to the weight of ages. with a demeanor as stern as the rigid silence she enforced, she brought her presence to bear on our animated study session. in a moment, akin to the snap of an old volume's spine yielding to the passage of countless readings, her restraint unraveled.

the second warning followed swiftly, a non-negotiable decree delivered with the eloquence of a stern flick of her fingers. it marked the abrupt end of our scholarly haven, and you and armin found yourselves unceremoniously expelled from the temple of quiet learning. the librarian, a harbinger of order in this sanctuary of knowledge, insisted on our immediate departure, scolding us for the transgression of laughter in her sacred space of silence.

as we gathered our belongings, a ripple of amusement still clinging to our senses, you and armin exchanged glances. you, sprawled on the floor in a fit of uncontrollable laughter, and armin, tears streaming down his face from the unexpected hilarity of the disrespectful moment, shared a moment of connection amidst the chaos. in that shared gaze, the laughter echoed louder than the librarian's reprimand, transcending the confines of the library's strict decorum and etching a memory of a rebellious, yet delightful, escape from the temple of silence.

beyond the weighty portals of the library, liberation unfolded with a saccharine taste, and the resonance of their laughter, akin to a clandestine elixir, cascaded through the echoing corridors. in the shadowy recesses, you and armin, you guys' backs pressed against the frigid walls, imbibed the bitter-sweet irony of their ejection from the sanctum of silence. the solemnity of scholarly pursuit clashed harmoniously with the exuberant and indomitable spirit of youth.

"perhaps," armin mused, his voice a thoughtful cadence, "we might find solace in a locale less draconian in its demand for silence." he delicately wiped away the remnants of laughter-induced tears, exhaling a deep sigh that metamorphosed into an affable smile, a blend of mirth and contemplation.

in response, you, still caught in the remnants of amusement, nodded with a grace that echoed understanding. "a haven where the librarian of knowledge not only tolerates but appreciates the symphony of humor might be our refuge." a melodic chuckle escaped your lips, harmonizing with the lingering echoes of laughter, as you embarked on a leisurely stroll down the corridor, transforming the expulsion from the library into a vibrant and enlightening chapter in your unconventional yet knowledge-filled study session.

❁ suki speaking — fun study session with armin, followed with lots of laughter and scolding!! this was fun to write ngl. the longest oneshot i ever wrote. ts was 2k words, hell. this was meant for neso + all the armin fanboys / fangirls, and his ass better ready every one of these 2,017 words. ok byee guys, im gna go work on my ocs now :3.

#❁. suki's work #❁. suki's talk #❁. suki's recs #oneshot #library date #bf!armin #armin arlet #armin arlet x black reader #aot #connie springer #eren yeager #sasha braus #modern!au #loverboy armin #have fun with this #neso u better read everything too...#or imma have to fuck you up smokey!! *friday pun*#ok bye :3

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smokestarrules · 2 years

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“Happy birthday, Ava.”

Ava almost kisses her, she really does. She doesn’t, but that’s probably just because she literally isn’t able to budge from her spot on the bed. Stupid emotions, all welling up in her chest and choking her.

#oneshot gift for goey <3 #warrior nun #ava silva #sister beatrice #avatrice #smokey writes

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asumofwords · 1 year

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Modern!Dark!Aemond - Divorce AU - Oneshot

Til Death Do Us Part

SUMMARY: You and Aemond had been married for years, but he was not the man you thought he was. Discovering his affair with his secretary Alys Rivers, you had decided that enough was enough. You packed up your things in secret and left, leaving divorce papers on the table, and booked a one way ticket out of the country.

What will happen when Aemond goes to the ends of the earth to find you and make you his again?

WARNINGS: This fic is 18+. Readers discretion is advised. She/her pronouns, stalking, abuse, toxic relationships, infidelity, divorce, NONCON, manipulation, gaslighting, marriage, rough sex, choking, hitting, punching, yandere, obsessive behaviour, possessive behaviour, forced orgasm, violence, daddy kink, dacryphilia, head injury.

PAIRINGS: Modern!Dark!Aemond x reader

Word count: 10.2k

NOTES: Well, well, well.... Here we are. You have all been so feral waiting for this to drop and I am honestly so excited to see you all crawling about in my walls after. Probably shouldn't have to say this by now but will for new folks, READ THE TAGS, this is a DARK!FIC. There is no fluff or happiness lmao. This has been so fucking fun to write hehehe.... Anyway.... Without further adieu... Enjoy ;) <3

The soft hissing of the kettle took you away from the book you had been reading, nestled against one of the many windows in the small cottage you now owned.

Taking the kettle from the stove, you poured the boiled water over your tea leaves, watching the herbal mix swirl in the strainer.

The soft aroma of chamomile and peppermint wafted from the cup and you inhaled deeply, leaning against the kitchen bench as you waited for it to steep, no use going back to your book nook until the tea was ready to take with you.

The leaves from the pine trees in the forest outside had turned a deep green, the cold chill of winter having rolled through the valley of the quaint village you lived in early this year. Condensation rose from earth as the sun heated the mildew on the grass, the smokey illusion seeping from the forest floor.

It was different to the city. No more were the days of craning your head up to look at the crawling skyline of buildings, the sound of traffic, or yelling of people on the street. No more did you hear cars blare their horns or music, or the melodic sounds of people chattering in the late hours of the night or fights between lovers from apartments surrounding.

Now, the most noise you heard was the occasional storm that rolled through the valley, or the deer that wondered the pasture at the back of your property.

You could remember the first night you heard them, such a different and unfamiliar screeching that had set your hair on edge, eyes darting about to each window and front door as you raced around the house to make sure they were locked.

They always were.

You were meticulous that way. Always vigilant, always ready.

But in reality, you shouldn’t still be on edge.

It had been months since you left.

Almost an entire year since you packed your things and left the papers and your ring on the table for him to find. And what’s more, there would be no way for him to find you out here.

Not that he would even try.

You hoped.

It wasn’t as if you didn’t love him, or loved him; the lines were still blurred there. But Aemond had broken you in ways you never knew he could.

The lies, the secrecy, and then, her.

You remembered when you had first met Alys; a work event Aemond brought you along to. The pretty wife and happy family image did wonders for his company and the press, so he often brought you along on his arm, smiles and grins for the cameras, whispers of starting a family or trying for one, until you were out of view.

But that time had been different.

That time, something had changed.

You had known about Alys Rivers for a while, a new hire going months back. A woman from no notable name, nor background, a start up of her own, worked hard to get where she was, or at least, that’s what you had first thought when Aemond had described her to you; his new secretary hire.

An older woman, not one a wife would usually find as a threat.

It’s almost always the younger ones. Older men seeking out their youth between the thighs of a barely twenty-something, whilst their wives are none the wiser, or perhaps knowing and too resigned to care, birthing them children at home as their marriage dissolves into nothing but a loveless legal contract.

But this was different.

She hadn’t come to introduce herself at first, not at all, and that’s what you found the strangest.

Alys Rivers, a few inches taller than you, with pale skin and bright green eyes, had stood in the far end of the hired venue, sipping a glass of red wine, perfectly manicured maroon nails tapping on the glass, whilst she tucked an ebony strand of hair behind her ear.

You had felt the heat of her gaze immediately, your eyes meeting hers, and yet, she didn’t look away, didn’t smile softly, walk over and introduce herself as any other woman would have. She just stared. Right into your very soul. It had sent shivers down your spine, and you knew, in that moment, that something was wrong.

Off.

Aemond had done his rounds with his private investors, higher employees, friends, if you could call them that, and press alike, all whilst you stuck by his side, smiling pretty and responding with shallow answers that didn’t give too much or too little for them to talk about later.

You hated those stuffy events, men and women alike always trying to get closer to you in order to get to Aemond, who was a fortress to begin with. Some people often commented or made joking remarks at how surprised they were that you had married him. That you had managed to thaw the Ice Man himself, that he was even capable of such things, and you would always laugh and make jokes back in good nature, smile never reaching your eyes.

But really, he was amazing when you were first married. Doting, loving, loyal, and always there, though that was sometimes overbearing. There was of course the little things, the teeny red flags that you ignored more often than not, rose tinted glasses and all that, but you had been young and in love and crazy about him, and he had been the same about you.

But as the years rolled by, and the two of you grew, you also both changed. The business expanded rapidly with the death of his father Viserys, and Aemond became more preoccupied with that legacy, most of the empire being passed along to him, and not his older brother Aegon, who had no desire to work and would rather live off his inherited wealth with drugs and weekend benders surrounded by lusty women. Occasionally men too.

And then when Alys came into the picture, it was like a switch had been flicked.

As though the Aemond you had thought you knew, never existed at all.

Alys had sauntered her way over half way through the event to introduce herself, all saccharine smile with razor sharp teeth that looked ready to sink into your flesh. She was polite, pleasant, overly pleasant, too sweet, too complimentary, and it felt off. Like an overripe peach, or wine that had been left open for a week too long.

Your husband had been stiff at your side, hand flexing around the tumbler of whiskey the entire time she stood beside him, too close to be friendly, and most certainly far too close for a boss and his secretary. And really, you should have listened to your instincts then and there, for they screamed that something was amiss.

But Aemond had a way of getting into your head, making you believe every word he said, push away your own instincts, and question yourself over, and over.

And that’s what you had done.

Questioned yourself, over and over.

Yet one day, something in the back of your head nagged at you too loudly. Aemond had not answering his personal number, calls you could understand, but usually he responded to his texts. But that day he hadn't. And so you called the office, where he spent most of his time these days, which had become a frustrating new normal, as was the depletion of your small weekends away, romantic dinners, spontaneous days out together.

The marriage felt stagnant, stale, and you knew in your gut the true reason for it. His desk had rang for too many rings too long. And when Alys had finally answered, she sounded rushed, caught unawares, awkward.

That was all it had took.

You had asked if he had his lunch yet, that you were nearby in the city and wondering if you should drop by, knowing that he had been spending later evenings in the office ‘working’, or weekend trips away to Harrenhal for business there, his secretary tagging along.

Alys informed you that he had just ate, but the way she said it was with that same overly sweetness that set your brain afire.

It was almost smug.

And so, without even hesitating, like you had for months on end, you picked up your keys and left, heading straight to his office.

Your heart had raced the entire time you drove there, weaving through traffic, just knowing, knowing, something, deep in your gut was not right.

And you were right.

Because there they were, caught like two deers in the headlights as you had swung the door open, Alys, seated on his desk, skirt pushed up to her hips, one shoe lost to the floor as Aemond thrusted into her parted legs.

They hadn’t even heard you at first.

But she saw you.

And she had smiled.

You will always remember his face.

He had turned and looked at you with shock at first, but then it turned to anger, as though you were at fault for this, as though you had ruined his fun, as though you should have known better, scar on his cheek crinkling with the sneer he threw your way.

You left in a flurry of hot tears, immediately calling your lawyer.

You drove straight to your best friend Sara’s house, and crashed at hers for the week, ignoring the constant buzz of calls and texts, and yes, even emails from your husband. Aemond in his desperation to reach out to you, even drove to Sara’s house, demanding if you were there. You had hid in the bathroom, holding your breath in the tub, shaking with anger and heartbreak and fighting the urge to go out there, to yell at him, scream at him, or more dangerous still, forgive him.

Then you were gone, speaking to your solicitor to get everything set into motion, friends loyally supporting your decision. You left the divorce papers on the dining room table, packed your bags and left whilst he was at the office, giving him no chance to manipulate you into staying, no chance for argument, and no chance for your heart to win over, taking your essentials and sentimental possessions with you.

You stood in your home, looking at everything inside, at all the memories that you shared in there. From when you had first looked at the house, to buying it, to Aemond's insistence on christening every single surface in the house to make it yours, all giggles and smiles, pleasure and joy.

But gone were those days, gone was the joy and the giggles, the pleasure and the smiles, and so with shaky fingers, you ripped off your wedding ring, finger feeling bare in its absence as you left it atop the pages.

At first you were just hoping to get some space to clear your head and not be manipulated by your husbands lies and very convincing words again. You knew that if you gave him a chance, you would be stuck. You knew that if he pleaded, if he begged, if he smiled with his signature smirk, it would be your downfall. He knew you far too intimately now. He knew how to get you to bend to his will. So you booked the nearest ticket you could and raced to the airport, not once looking back.

You had just landed in Paris when you turned your phone back on, watching the screen as it lit up, where you were immediately bombarded with multiple missed calls from him and a barrage of texts that became more, and more aggressive as time went on.

It was your fault really, to poke the dragon the way you had.

And yet you still did it, answering one of his frantic calls to hear the cool and icy tone of Aemond, barely keeping it together on the other end.

“Where are you?” He had asked, voice deep and quiet, small growl on the end; a tell tale sign that he was furious.

The airport was loud around you, people moving to their next gates, or stopping to move to the small cafes to eat, others continuing onwards towards the baggage claim to collect their luggage.

“It's none of your business.” You had responded, tone clipped, irritation and anger surging through you at his audacity to even be mad.

“I think it’s plenty my business. You’re my wife.”

“Not anymore. Have your solicitor talk to mine. Sign the papers, Aemond.”

You heard him breathe heavily into the speaker, “If you think for one fucking second that I’m going to-“

You pressed the red button on your phone and hung up on him, shoving your phone into your back pocket as you moved lazily through the queue to get through customs.

By the time you had gotten out the other end, you checked your phone again.

There was only one text on the screen that had sent panic blaring through your mind.

‘See you soon.’

You hadn’t planned to run, you hadn’t even planned to leave the country indefinitely, you just needed an out, but Aemond’s aggression had extended it, triggering your flight instincts. You didn’t believe that he would hurt you, but this new anger had frightened you. This new Aemond frightened you.

But Aemond Targaryen’s anger was not new to you either, his possessiveness was not new, and at one point you had even found it endearing. But after years of being married to what you thought was the man of your dreams, the other shoe dropped, and the true man was revealed.

So you made quick work of it, going to an international bank, taking every single cent out of your combined account.

You knew he wouldn’t struggle financially from such a loss, having another seperate offshore account, or two, or five if you were really counting. Not to mention his inheritance which sat in a vault in Budapest.

Comes with being descended from royalty.

But in the end, you knew you needed every dollar if you were going to get away from him and make it stick.

So you got a new passport, ID, and hitchhiked your way across several countries until you finally settled, finding a cottage, nestled in the woods, a solid thirty minute drive from town, buying it from the local farmer in cash. No contract. No deed. Just cash and his silence.

And that’s where you had been ever since.

You took your tea to the window, settling against the nook, pillows and blankets strewn all over as you curled inside. You looked out at the trees, the sun slowly setting for the day.

It was cold in your cottage, not too cold, but cold enough. Winter had come early that year, and you had used more logs of wood for the fire than you had thought you would have needed.

It was strange, to be so far away from the life you used to live. To be so removed from the world. But in some ways it was good. You had no social media, having deactivated every single one you had, and you also had barely any use of your phone unless you turned on the broadband, which was shaky at best and if it was windy, the reception would cut out.

The only people you really spoke to anymore was the people who lived in the town just a ways away, and Sara, who called every Sunday like clockwork, well actually like clockwork, you needed to turn the broadband on for Skype to work on the laptop you had taken with you.

In the almost year you had been gone, you had taught yourself how to make your own clothes, pickle and preserve foods, and even became quite handy at baking the odd loaf of bread here and there. The farmers whose cottage it was previously had left his belongings behind, taking only his clothes and things of memory with him.

There were books almost everywhere, the old man having been an avid reader, and amongst the books had been one on horticulture, and so slowly but surely, you had grown your own self sustaining vegetable patch. It wasn’t perfect, but it prevented you from going into town too often, and also allowed you to not seek employment just yet.

That would come later when Sara would tell you that Aemond would sign the papers.

But every Sunday was the same.

“Any news?” You asked her that morning, Sara had frowned, pixelated to hell, but the frown still evident on your screen.

“Nope. Nothing. The asshole won’t sign them still. Solicitor can’t even find him to talk.”

You sighed, wiping hands down your face angrily.

Why was he doing this?

Why wouldn’t he just let you go?

Something about it made your skin crawl.

Those messages, those calls.

The ‘See you soon’ text.

Something had snapped in Aemond, and you didn’t like it one bit.

Your only consolation was that you were far away with a new name, new life, hidden amongst rolling green hills and large forests.

“How’s Cregan?” You changed the subject, and Sara had given you an update on everyones lives, her brothers first, and his new girlfriend. Then to all your other friends who you longed to see again.

But not yet, you just needed a little more time and for your husband to agree to the divorce.

When the sun had lowered in the sky, you moved to turn the lights in the house on, throwing some logs into the fire and lighting them with a match. You made sure to thank the Gods for solar panels.

The warmth of the fire heated up the small cottage quickly, and you made quick work of reheating a lamb soup you made a few days earlier, crisp homemade bread on the side with butter from a nearby dairy farmer.

It was hearty and warm, and filled you up, having a soporific affect on you. You had a glass of red wine as a treat afterwards, bought from the local markets and found yourself sinking deeper into fatigue.

It was a routine of sort, wake, eat, read, work on the garden or house, eat, drink, sleep. It was comfortable, and it eased much of your worries, always keeping busy. You didn’t realise how stressed and anxious the life you used to live made you.

The week went by, much the same.

The same routine.

The same walls, and floors, and rooms.

Same window nook, and cups of tea, and warming your hands by the fire.

By the time Saturday rolled by, you had been elated, excited even, to get out and look at the homemade wares and farm grown produce. To see the people you had grown to care about and make as your quiet friends. Still at arms length of course with your fake new life, but you let them in more than you had intended to.

It was never a large market, merely the other people who lived in or around the tiny town. But it was cozy, sweet, and some faces were more familiar than others. You looked forward to seeing them all and catching up on their weeks, especially an older lady named Lucy, who crocheted and knitted some of the most wonderful things. She had kind grey eyes, and would always insist on you taking something from her for free.

Today was no different.

“You make this most difficult, hen.” The grey haired woman frowned, coming round the side of her small stall to shove a large, grey knitted jumper into your arms, the same colour as her eyes.

You shook your head, “Lucy, please, at least let me give you some money for it.” Grabbing the soft wool that was pressed against your chest.

The older lady smirked, hands up in the air in submission, “It’s too late,” Her voice was thick with a Scottish accent, “You best be taking that, girly. It’ll be a cold winter that comes round this year, I feel it in my bones already.”

You sighed, “Then let me give you some money for it, and you can buy some more wool to make yourself some warm socks.” Fishing around in your bag to find some cash to give her.

Lucy crossed her arms across her chest, “Gonny no dae that. If you give me any money I’ll be right offended by you, I’ll gie ye a skelpit lug. It’s a gift, you dafty.”

You shook your head and chuckled, there was no point in fighting.

You would never win anyway.

“Fine.” You acquiesced, “But I’m coming to drop you some muffins and scones when I make them next week.”

The older lady sat down heavily in her chair behind the stall, “I expect nothing less. Will you bring some strawberries from yer plot? Dang caterpillars got into mine and tore them to shreds.”

“I’ll bring you a mix of goodies from my wonderful garden that has no caterpillars.” You teased, rubbing the woollen jumper between your fingers, “Thanks again, Lucy, but you’re a menace.”

“Got to be when yer married to my husband.” Lucy joked, but it made your heart race instead.

You swallowed thickly and smiled shakily at the woman, nodding before bidding her a goodbye.

You walked through the rest of the market for a while, getting some fresh honey from a local farmer, some potatoes for a stew later on, and even buying yourself a new handmade mug.

It was a bustling affair, small children giggling with their parents, and older members of town who had been born and raised there walking about and stopping to talk with their life long companions.

Bright bunches of flowers caught your attention, and you moved over to look at them all.

Native flowers of all kinds were bunched together; roses, petunias, anything that could survive the chillier climate. And as you looked at a peculiar shaped purple flower, hooded like a bell, the hair on the back of your neck stood up.

A shiver rolled down your spine, and instinctually you turned, eyes darting around the rest of the market, looking at the sea of people, young and old, walking with their wares, chatting amongst each other or smiling.

Not one had that familiar head of silver hair.

You breathed out a sigh, shaking your head.

It’s fine.

You’re fine.

You’re safe.

It’s just your anxiety. It was probably just Lucy’s comment that set you on edge.

Not even Sara truly knew where you were.

You looked back at the flowers again, eyes on the purple ones that were nestled amongst pea flowers and other pinks and yellows.

“Devils Helmut.” The man told you, noting your interest in its peculiar shape, “Monkshood to others, or Wolfsbane to those witchy ones.” His eyes looked at you intently, “You ok? Yer lookin’ a bit peely wally.”

He was tall, older, but not by much, with deep brown eyes and wavy brunette hair that came to his shoulders, tucked behind his ears. His jaw was sharp, a nice shadow across the skin from his stubble, with lips that were full and pulled upwards slightly. He had broad shoulders and large hands, tiny freckles dusting the pale skin as he watched you.

He was relatively new to town like you, but not really. Duncan, you remembered, had moved back to the little town after his father had passed away, inheriting the plot of land that was next to yours. Lucy had spilled the tea, over a cup of tea, about him with you a few months before, telling you that he was an eligible bachelor with a wink, trying to set the two of you up.

And although he was undeniably attractive, you worried for the implications of getting to know him, and eventually having to tell him about your marriage, and why you were truly where you were. You doubted the man would want anything to do with your baggage.

“I’m okay, just a bit cold. How have you been?” You asked him, the feeling of being watched prickling at the back of your head.

“Fairly good.” Duncan rolled his r deeply, same low Scottish timbre as Lucy, distracting you from the rancid feeling that curled in your gut, “The winter’s come early this year.”

Duncan leant a hand against the table, and you noted that there was no ring on his finger.

Stop that.

“That’s what Lucy said too. Can definitely feel it.”

Duncan looked pointedly at the jumper still in your hands, “And what’s she given you this time?”

Unfolding the jumper in your arms you held it up, holding it against yourself to show him, “A new jumper. Will be perfect when it gets colder. Wish she’d stop throwing things at me and not letting me pay though.”

Duncan laughed, a deep chortle that rumbled his chest and warmed your cheeks, “That’s Lucy for you. She does the same to me too, the auld blether.”

You laughed heartily, “We should go in doubles to the markets when you’re not selling. There’s strength in numbers, you know.”

Oh gods. Why did you say that?

A soft smile pulled on his lips, “You don’t know Lucy well enough if you think we’d stand a chance against her. She’d bowl us over without even blinking.”

Another laugh, and a shrug, "Worth the try.”

Duncan’s eyes scanned your face softly before he stepped forward, grabbing the bunch of flowers you had been looking at from their little vase, holding them out towards you, “Here.”

You looked at the flowers in his hands and frowned, “What?”

“Take them.” He insisted, “You looked right keen on the Monkshood, mean bloody flower that one. Be careful you don’t touch it too much.”

You shook your head, tucking your jumper into your bag, “I can’t possibly-“

“-Please. I insist.”

You reached forward to take the flowers from him hesitantly, feeling guilt bubble inside of you. What was with all these people and their generosity? It was going to give you an aneurism.

Your fingers brushed against his, and the warmth carried up your arm and straight into your chest. Duncan must have felt it too, because a soft blush creeped across his freckled cheeks.

Holding the bunch of flowers to your chest you smiled.

“You don’t have any pets at home? Any cats that might try and make a snack of the flowers?” Duncan pointed to the Monkshood.

You shook your head, “No it’s just me.”

His eyes danced as he nodded, and you felt as if you had answered his second question without him even having to ask.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

A large hand waved the thanks away, “Dinnae worry about it. Though, I have heard good things about yer baking.”

“Have you now? Has Lucy spilt all my secrets?”

A smirk, “Not yer secrets no. But yer baking, yes.”

Feeling bold, you smirked back, “I could make you something, if you’d like." You held up the flowers in show, "As a thanks, of course.”

“What can you make?”

“Anything you want.” You said quieter, swallowing the anticipation that rose in your throat.

“Can you make a good scone?”

You scoffed, “Easiest of things to bake.”

Duncan mirrored your stance, pursing his lips, “Guess I’ll have to be the judge of that then. Do you have enough wood for yer fire? Snow will be falling soon, and we dinnae want you chittering in the cold.”

“I’ve got some left, but I know I’ll probably have to go over to Douglas and Lucy’s to get some more.”

The brown haired man paused in thought, tongue in cheek before he spun around, crouching down to rifle through a bag beneath his table, pulling out a pen and paper.

Duncan placed the small notebook in front of you.

“How about this, you give me yer number, and I’ll come round and bring you some more wood, maybe chop some for the fire as well, and you can thank me by making some scones. I can bring some of Elsie’s jam with me.” Duncan looked up at you, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

And although he had spoken with confidence, it was clear that he was just as nervous as you.

It was hard to fight the heat that creeped up your neck. Excitement and anticipation coursing through you, the feeling of being desired making you giddy.

It had been so long.

You bit your bottom lip softly nodding, leaning down to write your home phone number, making a note to plug the old thing in, praying that it still works, as well as your address into the notebook.

Duncan smiled softly, taking it back and looked at the note, “You didn’t have to write down yer address, I know you bought Macnair’s property a while back, we're practically neighbours. Not accounting for the acres between us.”

“Oh.” You laughed softly, “Sorry, I didn’t know you knew him.”

“Hard to not know everyone here, especially when you grew up around them all. Plus, hard to not notice the bonnie lass who moved here. Quite the stir you created.”

You shook your head and blushed again, Gods damn him, “Not my intention.”

You both stood shyly for a moment, staring at each other, a warm pleasant tension building around the two of you.

Duncan cleared his throat, and clapped his hands together softly, “Right. Well, It’s a dreich day, so you best be off before the rain comes again.” He held the notebook up in his hand and shook it lightly, “You’ll be seeing me soon then. I’ll be coming to collect some of those scones.”

You grinned, and held the flowers gently in show again, “I hope they’re up to your standards. Thanks again for the flowers. I’ll see you.”

“Looking forward to it.”

The blaring ring of the Skype call filled your cottage. You raced from the kitchen to the desk, answering Sara’s call with a bright smile.

“Sar!” You smiled, pulling out your chair to sit in it, looking at your best friends face. But her excitement did not match yours, and instead, her face filled you with dread.

“Sar, what’s wrong?”

You watched as Sara visibly swallowed, leaning towards her computer, “Aemond’s left the country.”

Chills ran over your body.

“Oh, he must have a conference in Rome or Budapest. He always used to-“

“-No.” Sara interrupted you, and her voice instilled a rising sense of fear that you had been battling with for months, “Y/n, I don’t think that’s it. He’s already been gone over a week. That’s why the solicitor couldn’t talk to him him.”

Your heart raced in your chest, blood rushing in your ears.

Sara continued as you felt the walls around you move closer, “That’s why the solicitor couldn’t get in contact with him. They went to his office. Apparently he’s on leave, not even Alys was there.”

You licked your lips, swallowing dryly, “What do I do? Fuck, Sara, what do I do?”

“Don’t panic. He doesn’t know where you are! Hell, I don’t even know where you are.”

“I know, I know. But still…” You paused, breathing shallowly, “Sara, I went to the markets yesterday, and it was… Off. Something was off… And I just couldn’t shake this feeling that I was being watched.” You felt like you were going to be sick.

Sara’s face fell, head turning to talk to someone else quietly in the room.

“Who’s that?”

“Just Cregan. He’s talking to Helaena.”

You scoffed sadly, “Helaena won’t know anything. She didn’t even know about Alys.”

Sara shrugged, image becoming pixelated, “I-…-ow…-bu-….-o….-harm…-“

“Sar, you’re cutting up.”

You swore, swatting the computer lightly as her image froze.

Fucking broadband. Gods, maybe you should invest in getting a satellite dish here. At least you could get some cable tv if you did.

“-come to you.” Sara unfroze, the pixels evening out to an almost smooth image.

You groaned, “I didn’t catch any of that. Fucking internet cut out.”

“Can you get a satellite or something like a normal person and not be such a hermit? I said, why don’t I come to you.”

“I couldn’t ask that of you, Sar. Besides, he wouldn’t hurt me, not that he’d ever find me. He’s just an asshole. Probably curse me out and tell me I’m making it all up.”

Sara’s face dropped again, and you wished she was pixelated so you couldn’t see it, the image making your skin crawl, “Y/n. Theres something you don’t know.”

You straightened in your chair, “Is Alys pregnant?”

“No. She’s too old for that. Something else. Something Jacaerys told Cregan one night years ago. I didn’t want to tell you then, you guys were so in love, and I had never seen you so happy. I just,” She sighed, “I didn’t even really believe it until recently.”

“Sar, you’re scaring me.”

She shook her head, “I know, I know. But as you said, he doesn’t know where you are, and he won’t find you. But Y/n, Aemond isn’t who we think he is.”

“Are you about to tell me he’s some sort of international spy, or politician in hiding?” You tried to joke, but the joke fell flat.

Sara’s head looked to the side before back at the screen, “When Aemond was young, he had a temper. A real bad one. Never got along with his nephews.” She took a steadying breath, “When Lucerys was thirteen and Aemond was nineteen, he attacked him. It was probably years of pent up anger after the accident, a fight had been brewing, but he didn’t stop. No-one could stop him, Y/n. It was bad. Really bad.”

Your stomach roiled.

“Y/n, Lucerys nearly died.”

Your mouth gaped open as you could scarcely get air into your lungs.

Oh gods.

“Breathe.” Sara cooed through the computer, “Girl, you need to breathe.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, hand rubbing your chest, “What the fuck?”

“I know. I know. But they were young, I mean, Aemond was a lot older, but still. They were boys. And Aemond would never do anything like that to you. Not that he will ever find you.”

You counted your breaths as Sara spoke to you, trying to get the room to stop spinning.

“Y/n, y-….I-…t wi-…ll be fine-…. I-… ca-…n…-“

You growled at your screen, standing up in anger and frustration, anxiety pulling cruelly at your gut. You paced in front of the desk as you waited for your friend to come back into view.

When she de-pixelated and came back, you leant heavily against the table.

“You got your phone with you?” You asked, rocking back and forth on your heels.

“Yea.” Sara lifted her phone to the screen.

“Okay, I’m going to give you my address. When do you think you can come?”

A cry flew from your lips.

The cottage was bathed in complete darkness, generator slowing to halt outside, the soft hum of electricity disappearing. Your heart lurched into your throat as you stood in the darkness. Skype screen blaring a ‘Lost Connection’ notification at you.

You took shaky breaths, trying to calm yourself.

This wasn’t unusual.

Just last month a squirrel had been trying to burrow into the electrical box for warmth and chewed through a cable. Luckily for you, Douglas had come over to fix up the wiring and helped you on your way. But with all that had been happening, it gave you a right scare.

Your heart did not slow in your chest, nor did you calm with the way your ears pricked at any noise inside or out. You stumbled through the darkness of the cottage to the kitchen, searching beneath the sink for your emergency torch.

Grasping it in your hand, you clicked it on, lone beam of light shining a path for you through the house to the front door. You crept slowly forward, the sound of your loud breathing in your ear as you got to the door.

You would have to go out and flip the switches manually, and make sure the damned squirrel wasn’t back.

Throwing on your wellies, you unlocked the four deadlocks you had installed on your door one by one until you opened it wide, the valley blanketed in the darkness of the night, clouds shrouding the moon and stars. The shadows of the forest around your house made you more on edge, every trunk or branch causing your eyes to linger that moment longer to decipher what it was.

But they were just that.

Trees.

You trudged around the side of the cottage, shoes crunching on the ground below as you made your way to the back. The icy air nipped at your skin, and you tugged the jumper that Lucy had knitted tightly around you.

They were right, winter had come early this year.

You would have to thank her later.

When you reached the electrical box, you tugged it open, shining the torch on all the different switches inside.

The main switch was flicked off.

For fucks sake.

The broadband must have blown it out.

The cottage was old, and the electricals likely older. But the solar panel were new, and you had a sneaking suspicion that perhaps the different generations of technology were clashing. You briefly wondered how costly it would be to have someone come to rewire the house for you.

As you looked at all the other switches, making sure they all looked in order, and the wires coming from out the back were all in tact, you felt the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

You never liked coming out here in the dark.

It was scary, and although there was nothing out here to hurt you, unless there was a miracle lone pack of wolves that came strolling by, which you knew could never happen, since Lucy had told you wolves were hunted to extinction there. So it was just you, the trees and the moon.

The sound of a twig snapping in the woods made you spin on your heel, shining the torch out at the trees in vain. The light didn’t reach very far, illuminating just the front row of trunks, leaving the rest to be bathed in its dense darkness. Your heart thumped in your chest as your eyes scanned the woods.

It’s fine.

It’s nothing.

I’ve just worked myself up.

Gods.

It was probably just a deer or something.

You remembered the day you woke up to a whole herd of deer outside your cottage one morning, quietly munching on the grass outside. You had nearly screamed with joy, but kept the excitement inside, tiptoeing to sit in your window nook and watch them graze.

Holding the box open with one hand, you popped the small torch in your mouth with the other, holding it in your teeth as you flicked all the switches off, and then back on again.

You looked to the house.

Still dark.

You groaned, and did it again.

Again, nothing.

No hum of the motor kicking back on.

“Third times a charm.” You mumbled with the torch in your teeth, flicking the power back on.

The steady buzz of electricity came back, and the lights from the house illuminated a path for you back inside. You all but slammed the box shut and sped back inside to the safety of your cottage, spinning quickly to shut the door behind you, rapidly locking it tight with the deadlocks.

One, two, three, four.

You sighed a breath of relief.

See? Nothing. Just country electricals and wild deer.

You toed off your gumboots, hanging your keys on the hook beside the door.

You needed a glass of wine.

That would do it, a glass of wine and maybe some baking.

“Took me a while to find you.”

Ice ran down your back. Your heart leapt out of your throat as you spun on your feet, fear crashing over you.

You blinked.

And there he was.

Standing in your lounge room.

He had found you.

Aemond’s jaw ticked.

You were so in shock, so terrified that you couldn’t move, entirely rooted to the floor in place as your breath was caught in your throat. Your mouth opened as you tried to suck in air, head feeling light, but you couldn’t even speak. Couldn’t even let the scream out that clawed at the back of your throat.

He had found you.

Aemond took a step towards you, dressed in all black, his long silver hair pulled away from his face in a braid, “I told you, I would see you soon.”

Instincts kicked in, and like a startled deer, you ran. Tearing down the short hallway to get to your room, where you knew the old shot gun Macnair had left behind was hiding beneath the bed. But Aemond was quicker, and you heard his loud steps before you felt him, grabbing you from behind as you kicked your legs back and screamed, trying to get out of his grip.

“Did you really fucking think you could get away from me?” He grunted, holding you impossibly tight, “That I’d ever let you go? It was just by chance that I saw you today, I didn’t even think to go to the markets.” He explained, and tears prickled in your eyes.

You were right, you were being watched.

“But there you were. The Gods brought us back together again, Y/n. I was about to give up. But it was fate that our paths crossed again. It was meant to be.”

You thrashed against him, his arm locking around your chest and neck tightly. You turned your head and bit down on his arm, hard, tasting blood fill your mouth. Aemond hissed, tearing himself from your teeth as he dropped you to the ground, knees collapsing beneath you as you scrambled along the floor to get away.

“Fucking bitch.”

Pain rippled up your scalp as Aemond gripped you by your hair, throwing you back against the floor. Your head hit the wooden boards, eyes sluggishly blinking as the room spun and nausea curled in your stomach.

Your husband stood over you, sneering.

“You’ve been hiding out here for months whilst I’ve been looking for you. Having an affair with that other man who gave you the flowers.” Duncan, “Almost paid him a visit, but that can be done later. Spent all this time searching for my ungrateful cunt of a wife, but you didn’t hide well enough.”

His lone eye narrowed as he looked down at you, lips pulled back in a sneer. Strands of his silver hair had fallen from his braid and puffed with each breath as he stared down at you, chest rising and falling roughly.

You scrambled backwards, nails digging into the wood as he stalked forward, hunting you like prey.

“Money talks. And I have a lot of money. Which you would know, since you cleared out our joined account. Very naughty, Y/n.”

“Fuck you. Get out!” You screamed, kicking a leg at him.

Aemond laughed, dodging your kick, “I’m not going anywhere. You’re my wife.”

“I’m not your fucking wife, you psycho.”

“No?” Aemond paused, cocking his head, “Then why are we still on the marriage register? Hm?”

Your back hit the side of the bed, hands swiping underneath desperately in search as you kicked at him again. Aemond swatted your legs away with ease, smirking down at you meanly. But he couldn’t block your kicks forever, and your foot hit him squarely in his groin.

Aemond grunted, doubling over in pain.

You took your chance, desperate to escape as you crawled forward, away from the bed, dizzy and horrified, all instincts telling you to run, not fight.

Besides, you didn’t even know how to use the gun, let alone if it was even loaded.

You stood, side stepping him as you moved to run out the bedroom door.

Your head hit the wooden frame with a crack, smashed into it by Aemond’s large hand. Stars bloomed behind your eyes, pain shooting through your skull. You tried to catch yourself on the door, your nails digging painfully into the wood as you cried, the hand gripping your hair, pulling you back into the room.

Aemond threw you onto the bed, looming over you, “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this moment? To see you again? How hard it was to find you? And you’re acting like such an ungrateful little bitch.”

You grunted and cried, trying to get away, desperate to get yourself off the bed as he pushed you back on it.

“Get off me!”

“But a husband needs his wife,” He leered down at you, pupil wide, “I’ve been dying without you, Y/n. I’ve been bereft ever since you left me. Abandoning me like a coward.” Aemond shook his head, “You could never really leave me. You’re mine.”

“I hate you!” You screamed at him.

Aemond smiled down at you softly, stilling for a moment. Your heart stuttered in your chest as you looked at him, “No you don’t.”

His smile dropped from his face in an instant, shadow cast over his scarred cheek as he looked at you blankly, “And if you do, I’ll make you love me again.”

His hands slid down your body, and began to tear at your pants, busting the button from your jeans, sending it flying across the room, then ripping the zipper apart.

Sobs flew from your lips as you pushed up at him, desperate to make him stop, fear escalating within you, “Stop! Aemond. Stop!”

Your fingers tangled in the bed sheets as you kicked at him, knuckles going white as you tried to drag yourself up and away from him on the bed, nails pulling sharply as you used every ounce of strength you had left. The room still spun as your head throbbed with every movement or jolt of your body.

Long fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your jeans and tugged them and your underwear down your legs as you struggled and cried and clawed at him.

“Been a while since you played this game with me.” Aemond chuckled darkly, “Do you remember when you used to pretend you didn’t want it? When you’d say ‘Stop! Please, no!’ and cum around my cock all coy?”

You blinked, memories erupting inside your brain. But those days were consensual, that was fun, something he had even introduced you to. But now? This? This was different. This was not a game. This was not play.

You kicked at his chest, heel clipping his shoulder sharply, a grunt falling from his lips. Aemond slapped a leg away, other hand gripping your thigh tightly. You cried out in pain as his fingers dug into your skin meanly, pain rippling up it.

Your hands tried to pry his fingers away, but the glinting of his wedding ring caught your attention.

He was still wearing it.

He ripped open his belt, and terror struck inside of you.

“Aemond, no. Please. Stop! Aemond stop, please!”

But all the man did was smile down at you crudely, “Gods, I’ve missed your begging. So sweet and small when you’d get on your knees and beg for my cock.” He pulled his length from his slacks, hard and angry, a drop of arousal smeared across his tip, “You’re so fucking beautiful. And you’re mine. My wife.”

You felt like you were going to throw up, thrashing beneath him as he crawled atop of you.

You dug your nails into his arms, trying to swipe at his face and neck, your teeth bared, ready to bite down onto whatever limb came into their collision course.

“Stop.” He growled, slotting himself between your thighs, overpowering you completely.

You sobbed beneath him, begging him to stop, screaming at him to get off, grunting as you twisted beneath the sheets, your head still spinning with small stars that continued to multiply in front of your eyes, the corners of your vision shrouded in black.

In one final attempt, you went for what you knew would hurt him, what you knew would stop him, slow him down.

Give you time.

And so with the heel of your hand, you thrust it upwards into his face, connecting with his prosthetic eye, clipping the painful scar tissue that would sometimes wake him in the middle of the night in tears.

Aemond’s head withdrew with a sharp and pained cry, one palm pushing into his eye socket as he tried to calm the agony. You pushed against his shoulders, trying to move out from underneath, but Aemond was quicker, and his enraged gaze landed on you. The hand that had been pushing into his face, curled into a tight fist.

Your head whipped to the side, and a cool blanket of darkness washed over you.

You laid in it for a while, with no thoughts, no terror, no fear, just that darkness that curled around you quietly.

It was nice for a moment, almost comforting.

Just the feeling of not being there.

But then the blanket faded away, and pain bloomed in your face, iron on your tongue as you blinked in confusion.

There was movement and a weight atop you. Something sliding against your core.

And then, pain.

You whined, hands shoving against the chest above you as Aemond speared you on his length, thrusting sharply and dryly into you as he reached his hilt, the tip of his cock pushing painfully against your cervix.

You gagged quietly, head throbbing as the room spun, your arms weakly pushing at him, feeling as though they were made out of lead. Each movement of your body sent pain rippling through your skull, and bile into your mouth.

“Take it like a good wife.” Aemond growled, pulling his length out of you before thrusting it back in sharply.

You cried loudly, pain spreading through your core as you felt him tear at your walls.

He was always larger, much larger than anyone you had had before, and when you were together, he would have to spend ample time to prepare you, but you would always be wet to help.

The only wetness you felt now, was from your own blood.

Aemond began a harsh and rough pace, with long sharp thrusts that jolted you up the bed on his length, cries of pain bleeding from your lips as you cried, turning your head away from him.

You still tried to push at his chest weakly, nails scratching at him through the dark shirt he wore, but it was no use.

He grunted above you, picking up his pace, wrapping his hands around your neck for leverage. He squeezed, not tightly, but as a warning, and your eyes shot open to look up at him, hands clawing at his to try and get him to release you. The more you dug your nails into his skin, the more he tightened his hands until you were wheezing beneath him.

“This doesn’t have to be difficult, you just need to give in, baby. Come on. Be a good girl for me. Be a good girl for daddy.” He groaned, one hand leaving your neck to pull up the soft woollen jumper to reveal your breasts to the room.

Your nipples stiffened in the chill of the air, fireplace not having been lit yet and the cool of the early winter air seeping into the cabin.

“Fuck.” He hissed, hand coming to squeeze your breast roughly, pinching a stiffened peak between his fingers, rolling it through forefinger and thumb.

You whined in protest, hand trying to move his away.

Aemond lightly slapped your face, “Behave.” He accentuated with a hard thrust, another warning, sending pain shooting through your gut, “I’ll even let you cum. Be a good girl for me and I’ll let you cum, hm? Is that what my pretty wife wants?”

You shook your head weakly, tears overspilling from your eyes and down your cheeks, a sob working its way through your lips.

Aemond bent down and licked the trail of tears from your cheek, “Fuck.” He moaned, thrusting into you faster, “Forgot how fucking tight you were. Gods. Gonna have to make up for time lost aren’t we? You’ve been such” Thrust, “A naughty” Thrust “Girl.” Thrust.

Your core clenched around him instinctually, Aemond adjusting his hips upwards so that his length would brush against the soft spongey spot within. His pace faltered, and a smirk pulled at his lips. Warmth spread through your gut.

“There she is.”

“No. Please, stop. Aemond, please. I’m begging you.” You wailed, hands gripping his arms as your nails clawed into him.

Your husband smirked down at you, “Not so cocky now that you’re mine again, huh? Where’s that bratty attitude from on the phone?”

Aemond continued to fuck at you from the new angle, one hand on your neck in a promise, the other pulling a limp leg up his hip, revulsion barreling through you as you found yourself growing wet from the angle, your body betraying you.

The sound of your slick was loud in the room, adding to your shame.

Aemond only tutted at you, “See? Only I can make you feel like this. Duncan would never be able to make you cum the way I do. No-one can. You’re mine. This pussy, is mine. And what I do with it is for me alone.”

The light in the room was too bright above you, making your head spin even more, the clapping of his hips against yours loud in your ears as his thrusts rocked your head and body backwards, a familiar coil beginning to wind in your stomach.

It was all too much.

Even the smell of him overwhelmed you.

“Can feel you squeezing my cock. You gonna cum for me, baby?” He cooed, mocking you.

“P-Please st-op, Aemond. It h-hurts.” You sobbed.

“Oh it hurts does it?” The sneer was back, Aemond’s head leant down beside your ear as he pushed to his limit, your walls gripping him tightly, and whispered, “Now you know how it felt when you left me.”

You weeped.

“I hope it fucking hurts.” Aemond leant back, fucking into you with new found vigour, sitting back on his haunches as he pulled your hips onto him, the coil getting tighter and tighter.

It was horrifying, to find your body finding pleasure from his assault, but you couldn’t stop it, no matter how hard you tried. He knew you too well. Knew your body too intimately. Knew everything that made you tick, twitch, or moan. He had spent hours, years, learning how to expertly map out your body, and he knew your body better than you did.

A slick thumb pressed down on your bud.

“Come on, baby, cum for me. Wanna feel you cum on me. If you cum for me, I’ll forgive you, okay? You cum for me and I’ll know you love me back. Come on, be a good girl, cum for me.”

His thumb swirled roughly against your bud, your hands tightening around him, unsure if you were pulling him toward you or pushing him away. Your mind hazy and confused, the world having been turned upside down.

You came with a cry, back arching off the bed as Aemond praised you through it, fucking into you harder and faster. Warmth spread through your limbs, your eyes scrunched tightly shut, bright lights behind them as your skull throbbed.

Aemond fucked your limp body, thumb leaving your clit as he held your hips with both hands, drilling into your wetness with a painful force, pulling agonising pleasure from you.

You weeped below him, keeping your eyes shut as you just wished for it to be over. For him to just finish.

“Gonna fill you up. Gonna fill my pretty wife up so we can have a baby. Hm, doesn’t that sound nice? Start a family.”

You sobbed loudly, hiding your face in your hands as you turned your head away from him, the taste of blood still thick on your tongue from where he had struck you.

His pace became sloppy, thrusts uneven as he began to lose himself to pleasure.

“Fuck!” He hissed, thrusting into you sharply as he came, hot ropes of cum coating your walls as he thrusted weakly through his climax.

You chest stuttered with sobs, head spinning, but exhaustion taking over.

You were so tired.

So tired.

You just wanted to sleep.

Wanted to fade away back to that darkness again. Back to nothing.

“Shh,” Aemond hushed you from above, dipping his head to press a gentle kiss against your wet cheek and forehead, “It’s okay now. I’m here. It’s okay.”

You sobbed even harder.

Aemond pulled out of you with a hiss, a small whimper falling from your own lips as you felt pain strum through your brutalised walls. He flopped back onto the bed, dragging your body up beside him as though you weighed nothing, black blooming before your eyes as you knocked your head against the pillow, a wave of sickness rising inside.

But you didn't fight it.

There was no point.

No escape.

Nowhere to go.

Nowhere to hide.

You couldn’t run, even if you wanted to.

And so you laid in his arms as he held you whilst you cried, curling into him as the tears kept coming. He cooed at you softly, rubbing a gentle hand up and down your arm in a way he always used to.

It was so stomach turning, the different sides of Aemond, and if it wasn’t for the concussion that you certainly had, his actions alone would send your head spinning.

Because this Aemond, the soft Aemond, was the one you had known. The one who used to hold you to him, and whisper words of praise. But that was a long time ago, and the Aemond who held you now was a different man.

Someone you didn’t even know.

This Aemond was not the man you married.

Aemond pressed another kiss to the top of your head again, “It’s okay, cry it out. I know you’re sorry. And it’s okay. I'll forgive you. Alys was a mistake, but she’s gone now. She won’t be a problem anymore, okay? It’s just you and me.”

You sobbed louder, and he pulled you closer to him, tangling his legs with yours.

“I know, baby." He cooed sweetly, but it was insincere, hollow, cold, "I’ve missed you too. I love you so much, Y/n." Aemond exhaled hotly at the top. ofyour head before his voice fell to barely a whisper, "So much, you don’t know what I’m willing to do to keep you with me.”

A chill rolled down your spine.

You knew now what he was willing to do.

And with the added news of what he did to Lucerys, you wouldn’t put it past him to harm anyone that came between you again.

A wave of mourning crashed over you.

Mourning your past.

Mourning your future.

And mourning the person that you would become with him. There was no escaping this.

Him.

You inhaled his scent deeply.

He still smelt as he always did, but there was a lingering smell of pine in his clothes. The pines from the woods surrounding your home.

How long had he been out there?

How long had he been waiting?

“You’ll love me again, I know it. I’ll never leave you again. We will be happy together. Here.”

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes wide against his chest.

“You’ve chosen the best spot, baby. You always were clever, we can start our family here. Somewhere quiet, no-one around. Just you and me, and eventually the children. Like it was meant to be.”

A shiver rolled through you.

“Marrying you was the best decision I made in my life.” He kissed the top of your head again, smoothing your hair down with his hand lovingly, “I’ll make you see.”

You laid there as you cried, unsure of what to do, unsure of what to say. Having no real power over the situation, having no real way to escape or get out. If not for Aemond's sheer will, the four dead locks on the door assured it as well. He hummed softly as he let you cry, pain crashing through you in waves.

Aemond paused in thought, his thumb coming beneath your chin as he tilted your head to look up at him.

Your vision was fuzzy from the tears, and the edges were seeped in black, but you could see it. The crazed look in his eye as he gazed down at you with a hungry possessiveness.

“Do you remember our vows?” He asked, watching as you blinked at him, your lip wobbling as you tried to stop the endless stream of sobs that worked their way up your throat.

His thumb brushed gently over your bottom lip, a sharp sting sparking in it as his finger brushed over the split.

And then he smiled at you, in the same way that he had the day of your wedding, lips pulled wide, teeth revealed.

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you looked at him.

The man you had loved, the man you had married and planned a future with.

The man you had been on the run from.

His mouth parted again, smile becoming softer.

“Til death do us part.”

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the general tag list please let me know on the general taglist post here :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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angryschnauzer · 2 months

Text

Click - A Twisters Oneshot

Summary; As a storm photographer you know all the chasers, so when you run into two old familiar faces - where you have history with both - it proves to be a stormy night.

Fandoms: Twisters Movie, Glen Powell, Anthony Ramos.

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Female Reader x Javier (Javi) - MFM threesome.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Smut, Alcohol, Drug Use (Weed/Pot), Fingering, Oral Sex (Female recieving), Oral Sex (Blowjob), unprotected Vaginal Sex, Spitroast, Double Penetration, Double Vaginal Penetration, Spanking, Hair pulling, choking/air play, spitting in mouth, creampie, no discussion of consent, implied consent, impared judgment. Please don't do this in real life unless able to give consent.

I do not run a tag list, instead please follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications, and you'll get an alert when i post new stories. Masterlist is available through my pinned post.

Authors notes; This is my first time writing for almost 18 months after severe writers block, and a whole load of truly horrible shit that has gone on in real life for me. Seeing Twisters has reinvigorated my passion for writing and it feels good to be able to be creative again.

Glen Powell Masterlist

Click

The bar was loud and smokey, country music in the background that could be heard between gaps in conversation or the crack of pool balls being split as another new game started. The air was filled with a heady mix of liquor and petrichor, rain imminent from what had been a frustratingly humid day.

Storm chasing was fun. The rush of adrenaline when the radar picked up those telltale colours on the satellite, but for the past 72 hours there’d been a whole lot of nothing on screen. Blue skies were pretty and all, but much like the atmosphere outside, there was a tension in the air that was only growing thicker by the minute. As a photographer you weren’t affiliated with any particular team of chasers, but with your skill renowned in the industry you could pretty much tag along with anyone you liked.

The sound of a scuffle across the bar drew your attention, the shrill ring of beer bottles knocking to the floor, the tell tale sign that tempers were fraying in the turgid atmosphere. Rolling your eyes and sighing you grabbed your beer and decided to stroll outside, not wanting to get caught up in an impending bar fight.

The air outside was a little cooler, a breeze having picked up, the scent of rain hanging thick in the atmosphere. Wandering the wide wrap-around porch of the bar you saw a familiar sight, smiling at the silhouette of an old friend, dark curls atop his head moving as he spoke with passion to another familiar face.

It was Tyler that spotted you first, nudging Javi who turned before a grin spread across his face;

“Well look who it is, our very own Click”

Laughing at your old nickname; one given where you’d had the habit of favouring traditional film cameras rather than digital, the sound of manual lens shutters is one that earned you the affectionate title.

You approached the pair, grinning as Javi swept you into a firm hug, one hand cradling the back of your head with the other arm tightly wrapped around your back as he lifted and span you, before setting you down on your feet again;

“It's been too long” he said with a grin before pressing a brief kiss to your cheek.

You’d spent almost a month with Javi a year or so back when he’d still been in the corporate side of Chasing, getting paid well where you’d been able to get some amazing images Storm Par could use on their marketing material and website.

The sound of a brief cough as someone cleared their throat behind you had you turning and meeting a wide smile;

“Tyler”

“Was wondering if you remembered me”

He pulled you into a hug, before pressing a gentle kiss to your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine.

“It's hard to forget someone who still hasn’t paid their invoice”

A flush of embarrassment tinted his cheeks as he pulled back, bashfully raking his hand through his hair;

“Shit”

“Hey hey” Javi cut in; “This dude owes you money?” he asked you.

“You know that awesome header image he’s got on the youtube channel? One of mine” you looked at Tyler who very much seemed like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole at that very moment; “All Chasers get the same terms; credit or payment. Its not credited, so he got sent an invoice and it’s still not paid”

Tyler reached out for your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles;

“I absolutely promise I’ll get it paid. And we’ll credit you too, we get so many comments from that image alone”

At that moment there was a ruckus as a small crowd of people came up the stairs from the street, calling out and greeting Tyler and Javi. It soon became clear it was the rest of their team. Most made a beeline for Tyler, to which you and Javi stepped aside and started to talk;

“So remind me again how you ended up going from Corporate Insurance Chaser to Hillbilly Youtube Chaser?”

He laughed, his eyes sparkling;

“You remember Kate? She kinda managed to convince everyone to be in it for the science, rather than the money or the glory”

“Well i never would of had you and Tyler Owens teaming up on my betting card for sure”

Javi laughed;

“Tyler’s awesome. He knows his stuff. And he’s loud enough to be in front of the camera to keep the audience entertained enough to let the rest of us actually do the science part. We work great as a team.”

Looking around you realised the team were a few people short;

“Where’s everyone else?”

“Up in Kansas City doing a presentation for the Mayor and Senators, hoping to get cooperation with some early warning systems we want to help provide the data for”

Nodding you sipped your beer as the pair of you settled into familiar conversation, the rest of Tyler’s crew welcoming you and soon the minutes passed into hours. Beers were replenished and Whiskey shots started to appear, before the tell tale scent of pot floated on the air. Sweet and cloying, you could tell it was leaf rather than resin, realising the joint was being passed around Tyler and Javi’s crew before someone slipped it into Javi’s hand. He grinned as he took a deep toke of the joint, holding it in before slowly exhaling, holding it out to you before you shook your head;

“I’ve got a better idea” you smirked; “Take another toke”.

A smile tugged at the corner of Javi’s mouth as he inhaled deeply from the joint again, the embers on the end glowing a deep amber red. He nodded and you quickly stood close, cupping your hands around his mouth as you pressed your own mouth to your hands and inhaled as he exhaled.

The buzz immediately hit you as the weed hit your oxygen starved brain, swaying on your feet before Javi wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close;

“Steady… let it flow through you, it’ll be strong”

Grinning and giggling softly you swayed on your feet, safe in Javi’s arms before finally regaining your balance.

“Ok, my turn now” Javi handed you the joint and you inhaled deeply, filling your lungs with smoke before nodding. He quickly stepped forwards, cupping his hands around your mouth and repeating what you had done, only this time he was close enough that you could feel his open lips against yours. Staring into those intense hazel eyes you could sense a hint of mischief, before he stepped back as he held in his breath. Finally exhaling he too swayed on his feet and you reached out to steady him, both now giggling.

“What are you two up to?” An amused voice asked.

Turning just as Tyler slipped the joint from your fingers, he inhaled deeply as he looked between you and Javi.

“Hotboxing” you replied with a grin.

Tyler wrinkled his brow before exhaling the smoke, moving his lips to form three perfect smoke rings before blowing the rest straight up through the middle of them;

“Hotboxing? I thought that was when you dropped a silent fart in a packed elevator?”

“Not where we’re from. Its when you inhale someones toke as they exhale, the lack of oxygen means the weed hit is more intense”

Tyler grinned;

“Okay, don’t believe that but i’m game”

He handed you the joint back and you inhaled again, before doing what he’d seen you and Javi do with your hands as he cupped your mouth and you exhaled. His eyes went wide as he held it, before stumbling a step backwards. He let the smoke out in a shaky exhale, his hands moving to your hips to steady himself. Overcompensating he then swayed forwards, pushing against you and into Javi, the railing of the porch catching him as you were sandwiched between the two men.

The three of you were in fits of giggles, the pot going to your brains before you finally managed to steady yourselves.

“Jesus christ on a bike” Tyler exclaimed; “That was intense”

“I can’t believe you’ve never done that before Dude” Javi laughed, turning to take a fresh round of beers from Boone, his goggles sat atop his head.

Boone signed like an old mother hen, before taking the joint from your hand that you had all but forgotten was still there;

“Ok i’ll have that back, thank you”

Giggling into your beers, you sipped on the drink, comfortable and content between two old friends.

It wasn’t long before the simmering tempers inside the bar bubbled over and spilled out onto the porch, the bar owner yelling that he’s shutting for the night and all the ‘damn Chasers’ could ‘fuck off home’.

Knowing when your welcome had run out the three of you drained your beers before stepping off the porch and down to the sidewalk.

“C’mon, we got a bottle of whiskey back at the motel” Javi wrapped an arm around your shoulders as you walked side by side.

“I’ll think you’ll find that's my whiskey, '' Tyler commented.

“Sharing is caring Tyler” you retorted back, met by his megawatt grin;

“Oh i don’t mind sharing”

At that moment you felt the first few droplets of warm summer rain to hit your skin, looking up as the clouds above finally relinquished their heavy load;

“What motel you guys at?”

“The Rodeo Econo Lodge, it's a couple’a blocks down”

“Sounds glamorous” you commented.

“Been staying there since my rodeo days” Tyler explained; “It’s clean, cheap, and the beds are comfortable”

“And they had enough vacancies so we didn’t have to squeeze four to a room” Javi added.

“Hang on, are you two roomies?”

Tyler nodded;

“Apparently we both ‘snore’”, which he waved his fingers in the air to emphasise quotation marks; “So the rest of the crew unanimously decided we had to bunk together from now on”

“Thus the whiskey” Javi added; “It helps me sleep through Tyler’s talking in his sleep”

“Says the guy that whines like a Golden Retriever in his”

You were by now laughing your ass off whilst getting soaked to the skin in the rain, chilled and relaxed before your mind caught up with half a thought you’d had a few moments ago;

“So you used to ride in the Rodeo?”

“Uh-huh, before college”

“Were you any good?”

Tyler smirked;

“Taught me some good life skills and how to ride hard when you got someone bucking beneath you”

By now you had reached the motel, Javi leading the way up the external staircase as you followed with Tyler bringing up the rear;

“Is that so?”

You felt the playful spank to your rump just as you reached the top of the staircase, quickly followed by Tyler wrapping his arms around you and his mouth against your ear;

“Play your cards right Click and you betcha”

Javi hadn’t been paying much attention, instead having to concentrate on keeping his hand steady enough to get the key in the door of their room, calling out in triumph as it swung open and he stepped into the dark room. As you and Tyler followed into the darkness you could hear Javi muttering about trying to find the lamp, but in that moment you had been spun around and Tyler's lips had found yours.

The kiss was hot and sloppy, his hands on your rib cage pushing your soaked shirt up your torso. His tongue pushed into your mouth and you tasted beer and whiskey in his embrace.

“What the fuck guys?”

You hadn’t noticed Javi had found the lightswitch, but he had obviously not been expecting to see Tyler getting to do what he’d wanted to do for a while. Before the situation could go south you pulled away from Tyler and closed the distance between Javi and yourself, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck to entwine your fingers in the soft curls at his nape, and you pulled him into a long awaited embrace.

You felt him tense, before softening into the kiss, his fingers gripping your hips as he pressed your bodies together and you could feel his need growing from the hardness pressing against your abdomen. When you finally broke the kiss to gasp for air, you smirked at him;

“I thought you said you two worked great as a team?”

You heard two quiet ‘oh’s , before a warmth pressed against your back as Tyler joined the pair of you.

“Fucking hell Click, you’ve no idea how hot that sounds”

Javi pulled you back in for another fierce kiss, this time his hands roaming the front of your body, pulling your shirt up and grunting his appreciation when he found your breasts to be free of a bra. Palming them in his warm hands his thumbs rubbed over your pebbled nipples, sending a wave of arousal straight to your core. At the same time Tyler’s hands found your hips, his long fingers pressing into your flesh as his soft lips found that sweet spot on the side of your neck just below your ear. He pressed his hips to your ass, rutting against you and you could feel his arousal insistently pressing against you.

As Javi’s lips left yours to press a trail of open mouthed kisses down your neck, he pulled away to give himself room to bend down and take one of your breasts into his mouth, that skilled tongue teasing your nipple before moving to the other. Tyler took the chance to cup your jaw and turn your head, kissing you with a clash of tongue and teeth.

Whilst Tyler had you occupied you hadn’t realised Javi had gotten to his knees in front of you until you felt his nimble fingers opening your jeans and tugging them down your thighs. Looking down you saw his eyes darken beneath his lashes before he pressed a kiss to your mound through your panties. As you held his gaze you felt Tyler rest his chin on your shoulder as his arms wrapped around your body. One hand cupped your breast as the other he held up and swirled two fingers in the air - the Chaser sign for tornado - to which you watched as Javi’s grin widened and he nodded as he did the same. But this time you knew those finger swirls meant something else.

You held your breath as Javi wrapped his fingers around the elastic of your underwear, pulling the soaked scrap of fabric down your thighs before he pressed his mouth to your slit. His tongue pressed through your folds before he found your clit, his fingers stroking your juices around the tight entrance between your thighs. He finally slid two fingers into your tight channel, the pleasure coursing through you as you rested your head back against Tylers wide shoulder.

Reaching your arms behind you, your palms welcoming the warmth of Tyler’s denim clad thighs beneath your hands, stretching a little further until you were able to cup him through the soft well worn denim. You wanted to feel more, more of their hands, their lips, their dicks, but felt restricted by your bunched clothing;

“I need to be naked” you gasped out, causing both men to pause their ministrations. They worked quickly together, Javi pulling your boots off before tugging your jeans and panties off in one, as Tyler yanked your shirt over your head.

Standing naked before these two men you started to paw at their clothing, pushing shirts off of shoulders and tugging white t-shirts from their pants. If ever there was a time where you wanted four arms it was that moment, desperate to feel their skin against your own. Whilst Tyler got caught up unbuttoning his shirt you made quick work of the button and zipper of Javi's pants, sliding your hand beneath the fabric of his underwear to wrap your fingers around his thick shaft. He gasped at your firm touch, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck before pulling you into a fierce kiss.

When you pulled away you glanced at Tyler who had pulled his boots off and was naked to the waist, his sculpted torso that of a marble statue. The metal clink of his belt buckle prompted you to move to him, unzipping him and sliding your hand inside the denim and beneath the dark jersey of his boxer shorts. Long and patterned with ridged veins, he was as hard as a rock in your palm, a soft whimper escaping his lips as you pumped his uncut dick.

He let his jeans and underwear fall to his ankles, cupping the back of your neck as you bent at the waist to take him into your mouth. Wrapping one fist around his girth you steadied yourself placing your other hand on his firm thigh, lowering your mouth to his tip to taste the bead of precum that pooled there. Pressing a chaste kiss to the smooth crown you opened your jaw to take him into your mouth, unaware your pussy was about to be stuffed. The firm push as Javi speared your hot channel pushed you forwards, forcing Tyler’s dick into your throat.

“Mmmmfffmfmmff!”

“A little warning next time huh Javi?” Tyler commented as he pulled back to allow air to actually reach your lungs; “but good god woman, your throat is a thing of wonder… no gag reflex”

You heard the sound of a high five but were too lust drunk to worry about it, too busy flying on a wave of pleasure as you were spit roasted between two hard cocks.

Tyler reached beneath you to cup your tits, grasping them as he moved his hips to fuck your mouth, a mixture of spit and precum running down your chin. At the same time Javi reached around your hip and searched out your clit, rubbing firm circles with two fingers against the sensitive nub whilst he fucked his thick cock into your dripping pussy.

Your orgasm caught you by surprise, your body shaking as you moaned around a mouthful of flesh. Your knees were close to giving out when Javi pulled out and brought you upright, his arms wrapped around your torso;

“Steady Click, don’t need you racing ahead off the radar for this” he kissed your neck whilst you reached out for Tyler. Stepping out of his jeans he closed the gap between you before sliding his hand between your legs, pushing two fingers into your soaked pussy;

“Such a lovely pussy, can’t wait to see it dripping with our cum. Gonna fill you to the brim. Do you want that?” his mouth brushed against yours as he spoke, but you could do little but pant like a bitch in heat.

You nodded, your mouth hanging open.

“Bed, now” Javi instructed, nodding for Tyler to lay down. You whined at the loss of Tyler’s fingers filling you but instead were treated to his tight ass as he crossed the room before laying on the bed.

“Come’ere Darlin. Climb on, i’ll teach you how to ride a bucking bronco”

Javi gave you a little push, almost the encouragement you needed to leave his arms. Climbing onto the bed you straddled Tyler’s thighs before crawling up his body. As you bent down to kiss him you heard the crack of the seal on a bottle of liquor, turning your head and seeing Javi drink straight from the bottle as he approached the bed.

As Javi climbed onto the bed, Tyler lifted your hips with one hand, steadying his cock with the other as he lined himself up before letting you sink down a couple of inches onto him. Javi straddled Tyler’s legs behind you, wrapping his arms around you before lifting the bottle to your lips. As you dipped your head back to drink from the bottle you felt his hand firmly on your shoulder, pushing you down to take Tyler to the hilt.

The whiskey hit the back of your throat and the rush was intense, the feeling of being filled by Tyler almost overloading your senses as he bucked like a steer beneath you. Javi breathed hot in your ear, his body pressed to your back. He took a large slug of whiskey before you pulled the bottle from his hand, taking another mouthful before leaning forwards. Tyler anticipated what you were doing;

“Yeah baby, spit it in my mouth” before opening wide to allow you to let the warm whiskey drip from your tongue to his. As soon as he swallowed you leant forwards and kissed him, sloppy with tongues and teeth, and you felt his cock slip out of you, landing wet and sticky on his abdomen. You weren’t empty for more than five seconds before you felt Javi push into you from behind, his palm coming down on your ass with a loud smack.

Riding you hard you were pressed between the two men, Javi filling you from behind as Tyler lay beneath you, his dripping shaft rubbing against your pussy as you were pushed back and forth. After what seemed to be an endless few minutes your arms were pulled behind your back as Javi held your wrists at the base of your spine. His lips on your earlobe;

“Get ready for the real rodeo”

With your attention on Javi you had lost sight of Tyler before you felt him angle his cock towards your already stuffed hole, as Javi seemingly lowered the pair of you until Tyler managed to slide in alongside him in your now overstuffed cunt.

“Such a good girl”

“Taking us so well”

Their praises merged into one as your eyelids fluttered shut, rocking your hips gently as your body grew accustomed to being double stuffed. As your arousal flowed from you your movements increased to the point both men were able to alternate thrusts, making sure there was never a moment when you weren’t full of cock. They filled and defiled your body until you were flying on an arousal high. Javi’s grip on your wrists faltered, your hands slipping free. As Javi pushed you down and Tyler fucked up into you, you curled one hand over your shoulder as Javi bit at your neck, curling your fingers through his dark curls. Glancing down at Tyler his normally pale green irises dark with arousal. He stretched his neck and you watched as the muscles shifted, his adams apple bobbed up and down. You rested your palm on his chest and he immediately wrapped his fingers around your wrist, nodding as he pulled your hand to his throat.

Realising that both your boys liked a little pain, you tugged on Javi’s hair as your fingers closed softly against Tyler’s throat, dual groans filling the room as they both thrust harder into you, pushing you ever closer to your release. Tyler grabbed your hips and started to pull you down harder onto him, Javi cupping your tits firmly as he fucked you harder from behind.

You were the first to cum, screaming out your release as if you were howling to the moon, Javi and Tyler following just seconds behind filling you with two thick loads of their creamy seed.

Releasing both men from your grasp you softly rested on Tyler’s chest as Javi pressed gentle kisses to your shoulders, before the latter pulled out. You felt a flood of cum seep from your stretched hole, soaking down to Tyler’s balls and onto the bed.

Some time later you were clean and showered, the three of you having squeezed into the tub and washed the sweat, whiskey, and cum from your bodies, before Tyler had discovered the bottle of whiskey discarded on his bed now half empty where the cap hadn’t been replaced. He had started to protest until you had slipped your hand into his and led him to the other bed - where Javi was already beneath the covers - and had silently confirmed you wanted to be close to both of them for the night.

Facing Javi whilst being the little spoon to Tylers big spoon, you sleepily said goodnight and muttered about finding your ride for the next storm.

“You should ride with us” Javi stated softly.

Letting out a quiet laugh you shook your head;

“You two combined? You drive like madmen, i’m scared of riding with you!”

Tyler pressed his lips to your ear;

“Well you know what I say…”

“If you fear it, ride it” they said in unison.

“And you’ve already ridden us both, so you’ve got nothing to fear” Tyler finished.

Letting a sigh you grinned and nodded, letting sleep take you as you were flanked by two crazy tornado wranglers.

#click #angryschnauzer #tyler owens fanfic #twisters fanfic #tyler owens x reader #glen powell #anthony ramos #tyler owen x you

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godihatethiswebsite · 3 months

Text

Tethered Bonds

✽ Poly 141 x f!reader (Omegaverse AU)

A lucky stroke of fate led you right into the arms of your alpha soulmates. But is it everything you dreamed it would be or just the continuation of a nightmare?

Main Masterlist ✽ Ao3

°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°

✽ Part One - A twisted fate

I'm gonna be honest: this came to me in a tired, period induced haze and I have no idea what the hell I'm doing but the bunnies would not let me stop until I finished it. Was supposed to be a oneshot... until it wasn't XD Hoping this is just gonna be a short little pet project on the side. Lemme know if I missed any triggers!

Trigger warnings: SA (not by the 141), biting, claiming, angst, depression, hurt/no comfort, self harm

[Edit 7/16/24: updated relationship tags]

The parking lot was a certified mess to navigate, a veritable winter hellscape with the continual snowfall keeping the pavement slick and churning around spinning wheels to create a thick dirty slush. Packed cars fought for spaces towards the front of the store, wanting to avoid the headache of trudging through sloppy sleet, heavy carts overflowing with expensive gifts and last minute groceries.

Parents loaded up their trunks for their upcoming banquets. Little ones chattered in youthful exuberance about brightly wrapped packages and a jolly fat man. Festively dressed bell ringers exhausted their muscles for the cause of charity, offering joyous smiles to those passing by gracious enough to offer a token. Even six inches of heavy wet snowfall were not enough to deter shoppers from their mood. Coupled with the obnoxiously boisterous music that met you at the door it was almost impossible not to get swept up in the infectious holiday spirit.

Almost.

You hadn’t bothered joining the chaotic dominance for prime parking, opting to choose the very last row towards the street instead of wasting precious minutes yelling profanities out the window to an uppity pack trying to steal your spot. The harsh wind burned your face and nipped at your skin, pulling the woolen scarf tighter around your neck and up over your bitten nose. You avoided eye contact with the chipper lady at the front, not wanting to feel guilty for not donating when you barely had enough to scrape by as it is.

Normally you avoided venturing out this close to Christmas unless absolutely necessary. Holidays haven't meant much to you in recent years since your parent’s untimely passing and you hated the constant reminder of ‘the most wonderful time of the year’. Sure, there were still your other two alpha fathers, but they’d opted for someplace warmer in their age and visitation was difficult with your busy work schedule. Your younger brother wasn’t almost worth mentioning with his new prissy family somewhere up north. That bridge was burned the day he called you a harlot.

Needless to say, you’d become something of a grinch.

You’d been miserably sick the week prior and ate through most of your stockpile of hoarded food, not enough remaining to keep blowing off shopping with the bustling crowds. If you wanted to last past New Years then a trip into town was unavoidable.

The intense blast of hot air from the overhead heaters thawed your aching bones upon entering the store, shaking the accumulated dampness from your head and shoulders but leaving the thick cloth covering the lower half of your face. It would help you in your endeavors to get through the aisles expediently without irritating your delicate omega olfactory senses.

It got harder to distinguish the source of fragrances this time of year, when folk spent their days burrowed away from the bitter cold surrounded by the comforts of the season. A chilled glass of rich subtly spiced eggnog, smokey cedar logs crackling in the hearth, sweet woodsy pine wreaths and garlands wrapped around thick oak banisters, trees decorated with peppermint candy canes and dried strings of popcorn.

Gingerbread, mulled wine, cinnamon, orange, clove; a bountiful buffet of complementary aromas. Your own father had smelled of cranberry sauce once upon a time (it made the holidays that much harder when he was gone). And with so many people filling the space - even with the heating fans working overtime trying to filter out most of it - it could get difficult trying to figure out whether a boozy scent originated from a lovely beta or the soaked rum cake she was placing in her cart.

Honestly if it weren't for the outrageous delivery fees you would've had the groceries dropped off instead of enduring the aggressive pheromones floating through the air. Alas this was one of your few exceptions to your hermit lifestyle.

Truthfully, it wasn’t just December that had you hesitant to leave the sanctuary of your meager apartment.

For the past few years, you’d been battling a severe case of agoraphobia, something you’d been working on wholeheartedly with a therapist since the accident that made you so. It had crippled you to the point that even daring to have the blinds open on your windows sent you spiraling into that dark abyss of cackling distress, panic consuming every last ounce of breath until you found yourself minutes later curled up on the bathroom floor, lightheaded and queasy.

Nausea was a constant in your life, along with the cold sweat that had you sleeping on a towel just to keep from ruining your bedsheets. Lethargy was embedded in your muscle fibers. A searing ache in your throat. The painful deep tugging in your chest an ever present reminder of the uphill battle you fought each time you opened your crusty sleep filled eyes. Depression was your best friend, curled around you in a false sense of comfort where it was easier to slip into a maladaptive headspace than face the truth of your harsh reality.

But despite the physical manifestations of your trauma, you’d made good strides so far with your weekly sessions. It had been a difficult road getting to this point and your therapist praised you for your dedication to not letting it hinder the life you had ahead. You weren’t sure what it looked like, but you tried all the same.

Like a hound that heard you calling, that ominous presence that filled you with dread came crawling into the back of your skull, mittened hand discreetly itching at the wool around your neck and scratching the irritated skin beneath. Forcing yourself to take a few deep breaths until it settled, you grabbed one of the many baskets available and began the trek weaving down the rows of food.

Christmas was about a week away and the mobs were out in full force. Thankfully the items you were on the hunt for were not the same ingredients needed by everyone else. There was the occasional overlap of things like milk, eggs, bread, etc. But there was no call for a full sized turkey or spiraled ham; no sweet potato casserole or chocolate yule log to bake. Just some bologna, shredded cheese, a couple packs of ramen, and a few other household things here you were running low on.

Maybe for the hell of it you’d stop in the frozen section and find yourself a mini cheesecake to splurge on for when you inevitably opened that bottle of fireball sitting on the shelf come next Tuesday, forced to listen to your upstairs neighbors' horrendous attempts at Christmas caroling.

Halfway through the store, your browsing was interrupted by an alluring scent swirling somewhere nearby.

Citrusy. Acidic. Sweet. Airy.

Your scarf had slipped off your face when you bent down to grab something off the lower racks, exposing you to the freshly baked goods across the way. Someone nearby was carrying a batch of lemon cupcakes, your mouth watering as the scent invaded your tastebuds and forced a pleasant hum from the back of your throat.

Something curled in your chest like a finger beckoning forward, begging for an acknowledgement that had you standing at rapt attention. Your body seemed to move on its own, head swiveling like a rickety chair, scanning the nearby vicinity - for what, you couldn’t say. The inner omega that prowled just underneath the surface vibrated restlessly, choking back a needy whine while your eyes swept over the closest individuals. Something primal had called out to you, throwing your hormones out of whack, piecing together invisible clues so obviously standing right in front of you.

The summery concoction felt so out of place in the harsh winter months, swirling and nagging at the base of your spine, urgent and loud and taking up too much space until you felt like you could drown in its tang–

Your muscles locked in place, gaze affixed to something - someone - at the end of the aisle.

A big someone. An alpha.

And he was massive.

There was a natural musculature that came with the inherited alpha genetics. Beta’s could grow to a similar size if they worked at it, but there was a casual arrogance that was impossible to mistake with the former designation. Even still, this man towered over most others in the vicinity, lesser alphas giving a wide berth to the intimidating figure currently staring down at his phone screen. Thick grey hoodie pulled up over his head, a black military jacket layered over top. Dark wash jeans led down to warm boots hefty enough to stomp a man’s skull in. Messy dark blonde hair peeked out from up top, a black surgical mask covering the lower half of his face from view.

He couldn’t have given off any more ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibes if he had it tattooed across his forehead. There was nothing sinister about his bearing per se - one hand casually shoved into a coat pocket as he leaned back against one of the dessert displays - but there was a coiled alertness that gave you the distinct impression he was more aware of his surroundings than he led you to believe.

One thing was for certain: you were never more sure of anything in your less than perfect life that that man was your scent match.

Your lungs expanded in your chest to drink in more of his scent. Palms turned sweaty, hair on the back of your neck prickled, the weight of the basket on your arm all but forgotten. Your throat parched at the prospect of getting to shove your face against his scent gland and taste the delectable lemony goodness right off his skin.

People went lifetimes never meeting their perfect scent matches. The odds of you ever encountering one wasn’t even worth holding out hope for. Over seven billion people on the planet and you had to win an epic fucking lottery to get as lucky as you just did. Bonding ceremonies like that made the news for how rare it was. You’d never even dreamed of this happening, making peace with the idea that mates only existed in fairytale romance.

You just about dropped your groceries when he was joined shortly thereafter by another gorgeous male, slightly shorter by a few inches and not as broadly built. Rich dark skin, effortlessly cool street style, short black curls, and a dazzling pearly white smile.

This new alpha didn’t seem to flinch in the presence of the other, lemon cupcake glancing up only briefly to acknowledge the newcomer whose toasted coconut aroma barrelled right into you, colliding like a runaway freight at an unguarded intersection. Gulping down mouthfuls of air like a fish heaving on dry land, your head spun wildly at the nutty intrusion; smokey yet sweet, conjuring images of a warm evening bonfire on a lush sandy beach.

Hope bloomed in your chest something fierce and bright. Your omega preened in unbridled delight, pawing at the surface, eager to get her hands on the two beautiful specimens whose every atom screamed ‘mine’. Tears stung behind your eyes, a mixture of relief and elation, vibrant like bursting fireworks and twinkling Christmas lights.

What would you say to them? Do you approach them first? Should you wait for them to scent you back or try to pretend you didn’t smell them yet? What did their voices sound like? You could see their lips moving, even if the ones’ were hidden behind a surgical mask. Tenor, baritone, rumbly bass? What were their names? Where did they live? Was this really happening right now?!

Something twisted and gnarled sunk its claws into your subconscious, rearing its ugly head in protest at the newfound revelation, but for the first time in years you didn’t fucking care.

They were here. Your alphas. Your pack. Your salvation.

“Babes!”

Decadent chocolate floated past you, a small apology from her lips as the omega brushed by, bumping her arm against yours on the way to her intended destination. You’d hardly noticed, too caught up in your own inner monologue and girlish fantasies to barely manage a quiet ‘no worries’.

For a split second, your eyes met coconut’s beautiful luscious brown, breath catching in your throat as the object of your desire finally seemed to take note of your existence. It was like gazing into the threads of the universe, pulling taut between you in a cosmic symphony that brought your stardust back together from whence it scattered at the dawn of time.

A perfect part of an incomplete whole.

…until those shimmering umber pools shifted left, aimed at the bubbly figure headed right towards them.

Huh?

Confusion as both alphas turned their full undivided attention to the dark haired omega, holding out a box of something for them to inspect and smiling when it met their approval, an affectionate pat on the head from lemon for her success that left her beaming with pride.

That’s when you noticed it - peeking out underneath the collar of her elegant peacoat. A faint white crescent moon shaped scar, standing out against her lightly tanned skin, a matching one a little farther down.

Mating bites. A bonded omega.

And your scent matched alphas were gazing lovingly at her as if she’d hung the stars.

She was theirs. They’d already found their mate.

And it wasn’t you.

Something died in your chest, a broken scream torn silent from your soul as it condensed into a burning black hole. Agony unlike anything you’ve ever known, piercing your fragile heart and burrowing like a plague into your veins until the sickness had spread to every corner of your being. Your omega clawed at her eyes, willing the visions in front of you to vanish like a twisted mirage, begging for a bullet to erase the image of coconut planting a soft forehead kiss before wrapping an arm around her waist and turning to leave.

A dejected whine ripped from your throat as you took an unconscious step forward, hand vaguely outreached, instincts screaming to chase after them and make them choose you instead of her. But you did no such thing. You watched helplessly as the alphas who were supposedly destined for you by the stars turned their backs on your pathetic existence.

This couldn't be happening. Why was this happening?! Please turn around!!!

With the same circulating air that had guided their scents to you, the wind in the store shifted.

Lemon cupcake went ramrod straight, whipping his head around so fast you were worried it’d go flying off his shoulders. It was uncanny the way he immediately zeroed in on your poor trembling figure, standing in the middle of a crowded aisle, uncaring to the concerned glances of the other shoppers as he unknowingly ruined your life.

Recognition sparked deep behind voided irises before going completely neutral, steeling his expression but remaining unmoving as stone. It’s like the two of you were locked into place, orbiting each other by an invisible tether, watery eyes begging the ones staring back to please… please not leave you behind.

Coconut halted in his own step at the end of the aisle, sniffing the air for a moment with a furrowed brow, glancing over his shoulder at lemon, asking him something too far away to overhear. You can only assume the contents of his reply, the slightest shift of his mask the only tell he’d responded before coconut turned to face you as well.

This time garnered more of a physical reaction than the last, jaw dropping while staring just as unabashedly as his alpha companion. Eyes swept from head to toe, cataloging every minute detail the same as you’d done to them. Pupils dilated exponentially, nostrils flaring taking in the crisp pear scent you exuded, memorizing every facet and swallowing it down like a ravenous predator.

What a sight you must’ve made; eyes red and puffy from the tears that now flowed freely from suffering instead of the earlier jubilation, meek and sheepish and falling apart at the seams. What a piss poor impression to give the men fated to be your mates.

There was a brief moment where coconut seemed to match your initial energy, a flash of something saccharine and longing, only for it to collapse under the grueling weight of our fatalistic reality. There was an internal struggle in the crease of his brow, the downturned expression souring behind clenched teeth and tight fists. But more than that there was pity - pity at how you couldn’t have met sooner. Pity that you’d had to discover them like this, a woman on their arm and bite marks on her neck. Pity that they hadn’t had faith that they would be the lucky ones in a packed society.

You can make out a question on the chocolate omega’s perfectly pouty lips, trying to put the jigsaw together as to why her alphas were suddenly acting this way while glancing between the three of you.

Ignoring her, coconut takes a half step forward; you take two steps back. There’s an apology in your watery eyes, a hushed ‘merry christmas’ too strained for their ears. Your heart’s beating too loudly, your breath comes too shallow. You don’t even realize you’re sucking in heaving sobs until a gentle hand of a passerby lands on your shoulder, snapping you out of the chaos of your psyche.

You can’t take it any more; the shame, the embarrassment, the gut wrenching defeat.

The basket falls to the floor with a loud clatter, startling the people nearby who let out shrieks and gasps of surprise as the spilled contents inside break open and shatter. Eggs crack, milk pours onto the mud trekked tile, a fragile jar of strawberry jam splatters across someones pristine boots with an indignant shout.

A smooth tenor voice calls out ‘WAIT’, but you’ve already rounded the corner, barreling through the crowds of happy smiles and ecstatic giggles, too torn up inside to feel anything but desolation at the future so cruelly ripped from your fingers.

The crisp frigid air smacks the breath from your lungs, winter boots slapping on the slushy frozen ground. The squeal of brakes accompanies you as you sprint uncaringly through the bustling traffic, horns honking and voices shouting, muffled and far away as you drown in the whirlwind of your mind. It’s a miracle you’re not hit by a car, an even bigger one that you make it back to your own unscathed.

Slamming the car door shut, you smack your padded palms repeatedly against the steering wheel, banshee wailing your vocal cords raw in despair. The dark presence creeps in once more, a mocking chill down your spine as it caresses your fractured soul. The nausea comes back full force, the tugging on your chest, the burning in your throat. There’s a desperation as you tear your fitted mittens off, reaching under the woolen scarf and incessantly scratching at the irritated skin until it shreds under your nails. The pain doesn't register through your emotional torment, blocking out the inner voice until it inevitably slinks back into the shadows after its bitter lick of victory.

Panting hard, your head slumps back against the cloth headrest, stewing in the silence of misery and defeat, the distant joyful bells of Christmas the only company you have on this cold winter’s night.

It takes a few tries to fit the key in your deadbolt, blinking through tears now frozen to your eyelashes. There’s no recollection of how you even made it home in your brittle mental state. For all you knew were twelve civilians flattened like pancakes on the side of the road and a warrant out for your arrest.

Wouldn’t that be nice? A break from having to pay bills and function like an adult.

Stumbling through the door, the sparse furnishings of your minimal studio glare at you, flipping them off as you shuck the damp outer layers from your frail form. A mess to be cleaned up another day.

It wasn't just the rejection of your fated mates you were facing. It was the knowledge that your entire future had been ripped away and no amount of hot glue could piece it back together. Today’s revelation was the final nail in the coffin for the rest of your life.

The bathroom lights flickered with dying bulbs, something that had been on your shopping list tonight and was now being swept off the floor along with everything else you’d left behind. It didn’t stop you from locating the first aid kit under your sink, setting it on the ceramic counter and pulling out the well loved supplies inside.

You avoided staring at your gaunt reflection, not wanting to see the person looking back as you tugged at the thick scarf looped around your neck. The constricting material tore away with ease, falling into a discarded heap on the floor, revealing the torn mottled flesh hidden underneath.

Your own set of crescent shaped scars - where the line of your neck connected to the meat of your shoulder, long since healed over and faded with time. The area surrounding it was now swollen and inflamed, raised angry red lines dotted with scrapes like a bad case of road rash, bloody from where you'd furiously clawed at your neck on the car ride home. The only time the fucker in your head shuts up - the connection tethering you emotionally gone silent once he got tired of feeling physical pain across the bond.

Memories came unbidden. Flashes of that fateful encounter coming home late from work, dragged into a sequestered shadowy overhang a few meters down the darkened alleyway. A feral alpha hopped up on something illegal, tearing into your clothes and violating the virginal space between your thighs. The muffled cries as he overpowered you, panting through a rut with his greasy fingers shoved down your throat to silence you, gagging on the musky taste. The scream as his teeth pierced your flesh, the bond snapping taut and stealing your future from you without a thought to your own wishes.

He’d fucked you ragged that night, waking up with your cheek pressed into the damp pavement and his arm slung around your waist from hours earlier. There’d been no one to turn to, no one who would care. By law now you were his - no matter the means it had been done.

A mating bite was binding.

You’d crawled away from him, your outfit in tatters hanging loosely over your bruised form, dried blood stuck to your neck and a stabbing pain at your apex. You felt dirty and used and wanted nothing more than to strip the skin from your bones. The unconscious form of the– your alpha flopped prone on his back, crimson stains around his mouth and his flaccid cock still half out of his trousers. The pinpricks on his arm told the tale of a junkie. It’s possible he hadn’t even been fully aware of the crime he’d committed.

You didn’t stick around to find out.

But you paid for that decision harshly, opting for a life not attached to your abuser, at a steep tormented cost. Bonds weren’t meant to be strained for so long. It starts to cause negative impacts on the pair, the omega bearing the worst of the brunt. Nausea, sweating, pain, dizziness, fatigue. The chronic illnesses you endured day in and day out would stay with you for the rest of your life. So long as he was up and walking free - alive somewhere on the other side of the country - his greasy claws strumming your senses through the connection tethering you eternally.

Only a perfect scent match could override the original bite and free you from the oppressive bonds that shackled you to an invisible alpha - the last remaining hope you had at any semblance of happiness.

And you just lost it.

°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°

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lustfulslxt · 11 months

Text

Party Revelations - Matt Sturniolo

summary : basically oc and matt have sexual tension that they act on at a party

warnings : sexxxx

a/n : this is just one of my oneshots from my ao3 acc, enjoy 😘

—

vivian stood in front of her mirror, glancing at her outfit to make sure she looks good for tonight.

her and her best friends; madi, nick, matt, and chris were going to their other friend's party. chris and madi have been wanting to go out and have fun, but wanting the rest of them to join as well. so that's what they're doing tonight, going to a party.

as she stared at her reflection, a proud smirk pulled to her lips. she looked good. she had a mini black skirt with fishnets underneath, a fitted off the shoulder black mesh top with a tiny bralette underneath, and black docs laced on her feet. her hair was curled perfectly and she had a dark smokey eye going on.

"v, you ready?" madi calls out, opening the door to her friend's room.

"yup." vivian replied and grabbed her phone, following madi out.

the two girls made their way out to the mini van and squeezed in the back with nick, matt being behind the wheel and chris riding shotgun. they all greeted one another before matt started driving towards the party.

throughout the whole drive, matt and vivian kept stealing glances at one another. he kept finding his eyes watching her through the rear view mirror, loving everything about the way she looked right now. he couldn't help but stare at her lips, oh how badly he wanted them wrapped around him, taking all of him at once. and her body, the way she moved and how she looked in her skimpy clothing. he wanted nothing more than to take her on the hood of his van right then and there.

vivian was in the same boat. matt looked so incredibly breathtaking to her, it was making her hot. he was wearing his black ransom zip up hoodie, black sweatpants, and his white forces. it was a simple outfit that was similar to what he wore everyday, but it still made vivian's insides tighten. the way his hair fell over his forehead, looking so extremely pullable. she wanted nothing more than to become one with him.

the five friends had been at the party for around half an hour now, the majority having split up. madi and nick were drinking together, goofing off in their own little bubble. chris had met up with some of his other friends, smoking with them outside. vivian had already had quite a few shots, and was now dancing by herself as she felt the alcohol flow through her veins. matt was simply standing against the wall with a drink in his hand, watching her.

matt loved the way her body moved, the way she sexily swayed to the music. the way her hands found themselves moving up and down her body and tangling in her hair. she was in her own little world and all matt wanted to do was take her home and fuck her senseless.

see, sure they were friends, but it was different than all of their other friendships. there was deep sexual tension that neither of them acted on in fear of ruining their good relationship. however, the way she looked right now had matt wanting to risk it all.

the song that vivian was originally dancing to had ended, causing her to pause for a moment and observe her surroundings. that's when she noticed matt leaning against the wall with his eyes on her and only her. his intense gaze had her damn near clenching her thighs together to get some sort of friction where she wanted him most.

as a new beat started, vivian bit her bottom lip to prevent her smile from plastering over her face. the song was 'all the time - jeremiah' and it was only setting the mood even more, so she beckoned him over with her finger. he downed the rest of his cup before setting it on the table next to him and walking in her direction.

"dance with me, matty." she spoke in a sultry voice, wrapping her arms around his neck.

he didn't say a word, but pulled her hands from around him and stepped behind her instead. his hands met around her waist, softly running up and down her sides as she swayed to the beat. she placed one of her hands on his and the other went around to the back of his neck again. she continued moving to the music, grinding her hips against his. he pulled her even closer to him, her body flushing against his.

within seconds, his dick stiffened a bit, enjoying the movement of her ass pressed against it. she, too, enjoyed the feeling of it, causing her breath to slightly hitch. matt had leaned his head down, placing his face in the crook of her neck and deeply inhaling her scent. the warmth of his breath arose goosebumps across her skin, it now feeling like it's on fire beneath his touch. the moment he placed a soft open mouth kiss on her neck, she knew she was done for. the feeling of his wet lips on her made her let out a soft whimper, which caused matt's head to snap to her face. that sound went right through him and he knew right then, he needed to hear it again. over and over and over.

"let's go." his voice spoke, husky and rasp.

he didn't even wait for a response, just interlocked their hands and made his way to the stairs. she eagerly followed, not exactly sure of what was happening but still had somewhat of an idea. and that idea made her panties soaked.

matt had walked her all the way down to the end of the hall, entering the bedroom that's off limits to anyone other than their friend group. he pulled her in and locked the door behind them. the two just stared at one another in silence. vivian's big doe eyes gazed up at his and he just wanted to fuck her until they were rolling back into her head.

"you look good tonight." he spoke, his voice still low and slightly hoarse, as he looked her up and down.

"thank you." she smiled, doing the same to him, "you too."

he slowly walked over to her and placed his hands on her waist, pulling her chest against his. their eye contact remained unfazed and stayed connected, making the bulge in his pants grow even more. the two were so close, they could feel each other's breath fanning one another's skin. vivian's eyes flickered from his to his lips and back quickly, but he noticed.

matt swiftly grabbed her jaw and pulled her into him, crashing his lips down onto hers. they moulded together so perfectly, both wanting this moment to last forever. after a moment of their lips working together, he pulled back to look into her eyes again, trying to see if there was any hesitation or reluctance, to which he found none, so he continued.

once again, their lips met in a heated passion. vivian's hands traveled up matt's chest and one set on the back of his neck while the other grabbed a fistful of his hair. upon giving it a light tug, a low groan escaped matt's lips and it made her stomach twist in need. he was so pretty to her and the sound that just came from his mouth almost had her cumming already.

matt's tongue flicked across her bottom lip, begging for entrance, which she granted. their kisses were rushed and wet and hot, tongues gliding over one another with ease. his hands traveled down her body once more, gripping onto her ass and squeezing tightly, causing her to moan against his lips. it drove him crazy.

he briefly pulled away from her and ordered, "take your shoes off."

once both of them had removed their shoes, their lips reconnected. matt's hands went down to her thighs, swiftly pulling her up and walking her to the bed. he laid her down and crawled on top of her, his legs slightly straddling her thighs as his crotch rubbed against hers.

he broke their kiss and turned her head, and began leaving sloppy wet kisses up and down her neck, biting down here and there. both of their breathing's were heavy, lips swollen and red, glistening with each other's saliva.

"fuck, you look so good tonight, vivi." he groaned against her skin, grinding his hips against hers, a soft moan coming from both of them.

her hands immediately reached down to his sweatpants, her fingers tugging at the string the tightened them. once the tie was undone, her fingers looped behind the elastic, but his hand stopped her for just a moment.

"are we really doing this?" matt asks her, wanting nothing more than for them to finally give in to their strongest desires, but also needing to make sure this was exactly what she wanted as well.

vivian frantically nodded, "please. i want you so bad, matty.”

matt was rock hard at this point and her response caused his dick to twitch, begging for her. the two pulled apart once again, both of them removing their tops, before connecting again. their kiss was heated, both of their tongues exploring each other's mouths.

when she tugged on his hair again, he pulled away and began leaving wet kisses down her neck and to her torso. his hands roamed her body, before landing on her boobs. he took turns with them, squeezing and tweaking one nipple while his mouth was sucking and nibbling on the other. vivian was letting out soft moans that only encouraged matt even more. she was loving every bit of the way he touched her, and he was loving every bit of the way she felt from his touch.

"take these off." vivian spoke in a low tone, pulling at his pants once again.

he swatted her hand away and pinned them to her side, "ah, ah. we're doing things my way, pretty girl."

her hips bucked into his, her softly whining, wanting to just feel him already. he grinned at her reaction and kissed down her stomach, sucking at the skin on the way down. he parted from her and pulled her skirt down, tossing it to the side. his hand reached up and met her heat, rubbing her core through her panties and stockings. he could feel how wet she was through the clothing and it turned him on so much. she bucked her hips at him again, wanting to feel more.

"fuck, you're already soaking wet." he licked his lips, tossing his head back. "take these off, baby."

she hurriedly removed the rest of her clothes, as he did the same to himself, leaving them both naked. vivian was in awe of him. he looked so hot and the way his fully erect dick hit his stomach, once free from its restriction, made her want to take him down her throat. matt peered over at her body, his mouth watering at the sight. she was truly beautiful. he smiled at her and lent down, connecting their lips for a few soft kisses.

he then made his way down, lowering himself in between her legs. he was dragging his lips over her inner thighs and it was making her go crazy. he was teasing her and it was working.

"matt." she choked out, breathless from what he was doing to her. "p-please."

"please what, baby?" he smirked at her, licking all around her, except for where she needed him most.

"i want your face buried in my pussy." she admits, her face heating up at her own confession.

"as you wish."

with that, he began devouring her. his tongue was lapping her folds, sucking onto every piece of her. she was a moaning mess, her hands gripping his hair as she pushed them closer together. matt was in heaven. the way she sounded and tasted, he was close to cumming without her even touching him.

"you taste so good." he moaned against her pussy, sending vibrations through her body that left her trembling.

matt's finger found his way up, softly slicking between her folds while he sucked her clit. without warning, he shoved it into her hole, causing her body to slightly jerk as a loud moan escaped her lips. he kept pumping his finger in and out before adding another. with that, and his mouth doing wonders, vivian knew she was close.

"oh my- fuck." she moaned out, tugging on his hair. "i'm so close, matty."

he picked the pace up with his hand, inserting another finger as his thumb came into contact with her clit. he rubbed it back and forth, while his eyes watched her face. her eyebrows were furrowed with her eyes closed, and her bottom lip was between her teeth, attempting and failing to control her moans. upon feeling him stare, she looked down at him and both were starstruck. matt's face was glistening with her juices, his eyes holding so much lust and adoration in them. vivian's eyes were heavy and her face looked so fucked out.

"cum for me, baby." he orders, placing his mouth back into her, flattening his tongue against her pussy.

and just like that, her legs were shaking and she was releasing into his mouth with a loud pornographic moan. he sucked up every drop of her arousal, loving the way she tasted. then, he hovered back over her and shoved his fingers in her mouth for her to taste. she licked all over them and sucked hard, causing his dick to twitch. after removing his fingers from her mouth, he gripped her jaw and slammed his lips on hers. they shared an open wet kiss, tongues sliding all over as they both tasted her.

vivian reached her hand down, finally meeting his dick for the first time. he was rock hard, and emitting crazy heat. matt tossed his head back at the feeling of her hand on his shaft, inhaling sharply.

"i want you to fuck me so bad." she bit her lip and tightened her hand around him, pumping a few times before he abruptly flipped her over.

"face down, ass up."

she immediately complies, eager to be fucked like there's no tomorrow. her ass was in the air and her face buried into the bed, and matt sat there for a moment, taking in the view. he could see her pussy dripping, in need of his dick.

"you want me to fuck you like a little slut, huh?" he asks, his hands kneading her cheeks, his thumb running over her folds.

he placed his dick against her pussy, sliding it around, soaking it in her juices. once he rubbed it against her clit, she moaned and pushed her ass closer to him, but he stopped her. suddenly his hand came across her ass in a fast a hard motion, a loud smack sounding throughout the room.

she let out a whimper and he said, "i asked you a question.”

"please." she begged, "i just want you to make me your slut."

with that, he shoved his dick inside her without warning. she gasped loudly, not expecting all of him right away. he gripped her waist and began thrusting in and out of her. her shock immediately vanished and was replaced with pleasure.

"mm. you feel s-so good inside me." she moans in between each thrust.

"yeah, i bet you love the way i fuck you. i want you to cum all over my dick."

matt was fucking her fast and hard, her hands were clinging to the sheets beneath them. matt's breathing was heavy, he was doing everything in his power not to cum because she felt so good around him. as if he lost all control, he grabbed both of her arms and pulled them back, holding them together behind her, then started pounding even harder. she felt so full from him, she started bouncing her ass onto him, meeting him halfway, causing him to let out a string of moans and cuss words.

her entire body was shaking, the sound of skin slapping filled the air as she cried out. he was making her feel so good. he then reached below her, his fingers meeting her clit, and rubbing in a fast motion.

"OH FUCK!" she practically screamed, she was going crazy.

nobody has ever made her feel this way, and she wanted it forever. and so did matt. he was enjoying every single thing about it.

"i-i'm about to cum." she moans out.

matt groaned in return, "me too, baby. cum with me."

a second later, the room filled with loud high pitched moans. vivian's legs shook as she climaxed, her cum dripping down matt's dick. his hot load shot inside her, mixing both of their juices as he kept fucking her to ride out their high together.

vivian fell forward, matt collapsing on top of her. they were both trying to catch their breath, having just had the best orgasm of their lives. he pulled out and fell onto his back, laying right beside her. the two looked over at each other with goofy grins on their faces. she leaned into him, planting her lips on his, creating a passionate kiss between the two.

"i hope you know you belong to me now." matt tells her once they pull apart.

"that sounds like heaven." she smiled at him, "all i ever wanted was to be yours."

—

a/n : should i post the rest? i have another matt one and 2 chris, lmkkk. back to working on requests, feel free to send in more 🩵

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johnslittlespoon · 5 months

Text

Gale finds John sitting on the steps of the back porch, elbows resting on his knees, head lifted to the sky, ever reminiscent of ‘45 when looking north was the only reprieve from chain link and barbed wire.

He shuts the cabin door quietly behind him before he follows John’s gaze, and then he sucks in a sharp breath, hand frozen on the porch railing.

The night sky is alive, rippling in brilliant luminescence, slow waves like sun rays filtering through cracked glass across the vast open space.

“Wow,” Gale whispers, lowering his hand to his side.

John’s eyes glimmer when he turns to look at him, refractions of emerald and indigo and magenta dancing across his irises. It feels like another lifetime that Gale watched similar hues paint his face while they huddled behind brick walls and peeked out at the bombs as they coloured the land– he can hardly reconcile the boys they were three years prior with the men they are now.

“I was gonna come wake you,” John murmurs as he turns his attention back to the light show, scratching at the collar of his shirt. “Just hard to look away, y’know?”

Gale does know, gaze jumping between neon shards and dark, sleep–mussed curls, unsure which he’s more keen to settle his eyes upon. He moves forward instead of deciding, sitting down on the step next to John, inhaling the familiar smokey scent carrying on the breeze from the cigarette that dangles from John’s right hand.

“You ever seen ‘em before?” Gale asks as he stares up at the vibrant patterns, pressing close to John to soothe the night’s chill.

“Never seen anything like it,” John says, quiet, plumes of smoke spilling from his lips, reaching up in a futile effort to join the holographic flares. “You?”

Yes. I've seen you.

“No,” Gale shakes his head, picking a ribbon of maroon to fix his eyes on. “Never thought I’d get the chance to.”

There are a lot of things Gale hadn’t thought he’d get the chance to experience, back when home felt like a universe away, and iron gates felt like a life sentence. Yet he still can’t help but yearn for something else, and though what he aches for should feel small under the atmospheric anomaly, the lights dim in comparison to the radiance of the man at his side.

He thinks the colours are even prettier when he glances to the side to watch them glide across the angular planes of John’s face, chest fuzzy at the look of pure boyish wonder that seems to smooth out the divots and lines and marks made by time.

He wants to tell him everything. Somehow that thought is almost scarier than all else he’s endured.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

not sure if this is/will be anything, but i had to get my feelings out in writing after seeing the northern lights last night. literally cried like a baby while sitting on the top of a mountain alone watching them– it's been my dream since i was a kid, and i never thought i'd see them so young, or at all, really. a part of me feels a little healed and i'm still in awe. <3 then i got to thinking about john and gale buying and fixing up a small cabin together out on the edge of lake michigan, a sanctuary in the forest, a place to hide away from the world after the war ends. healing as friends, but the feelings never go away, and some rare pining gale. a love confession during a once in a lifetime event, etc. perhaps will turn it into a oneshot at some point, but for now here's a little drabble to make up for inactivity. x

#is this anything?#who knows. i just think that them <3 #i want to make art of the image i have for this in my head ughh #maybe i will do that as a Treat when i finish ch3 dog coded fic #johnslittlespoon writes #buckbucky #buck x bucky #clegan

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honnelander · 1 year

Note

Do you have any snippets you could give us of your upcoming Sanji imagine? 👀

i do! 👀 this has been a little tougher for me, i'm around halfway done. i'm trying to figure out how to end it....but in the meantime, here is a snippet of the upcoming jealous!Sanji oneshot (aka the prequel in the go fish! series):

(disclaimer: this work is unfinished, unedited, and can also not make it into the final product (even though i'm very certain it will))

“Daaamn, Sanji,” Usopp drawled as he messed with the sails on the ship’s mast nearby, glancing at the chef for a second before returning to his knots. “You look like a smoking dragon. All ferocious and mean. And....extra smokey.”

Sanji’s gaze didn’t budge, Usopp’s words not fazing the cook in the slightest. “Oh yeah? And what of it knot-boy?” he asked with a slight edge to his words, taking another drag on his cigarette and exhaling through his lips.

At Sanji’s snarky question, Usopp recoiled and looked back at Sanji more closely with a confused expression. It was rare for Sanji to lose his cool or be in a bad mood for no reason, unless he was going back and forth in an argument with Zoro but even then, the blonde chef usually took those in stride with a smile, much to Zoro’s annoyance, so this was new.

Usopp then noticed how intent Sanji’s stare was towards something at the front of the ship and raised an eyebrow. Whatever he was staring at must be pissing him off because the chef’s gaze looked absolutely lethal. What the hell could be making him so mad? Usopp followed Sanji’s gaze, looked towards the front of the ship, and saw....y/n and Zoro talking?

To Usopp, it looked like they were just having a normal conversation, but when he saw y/n laugh at something Zoro said, hitting his arm with a grin and Zoro having a slight smile, he heard Sanji scoff loudly in disgust and mutter something under his breath.

And in that moment, it dawned on Usopp what was up, and it was hard for him to contain his shit eating grin: Sanji was jealous.

#asks #go fish! au #sanji x reader #opla!sanji x reader

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fictionismyreality3 · 9 months

Text

Hold Still

Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Tags: Tattoo Artist!Bucky, innocent!reader if you squint, sorta mutual pining, comfort, fluff

Warnings: tattoos and everything that comes with them

Word Count: 3k

Notes: EEEEEE this is my first oneshot on this blog 🥳 as always not really proofread im not sorry 🤓 I wanted to add like grumpy x sunshine underlines and BARK BARk tattoo artist Bucky 😩🙏🏻 Peace out my homies ✌🏻

The sound of your shoe tapping against the checkered linoleum floor tile filled the waiting room of "Brooklyn's Best Tattoos". It was raining outside and the streets were quiet aside from the occasional horn of an angry driver or a street seller trying to get their final deals for the day. Your bright yellow umbrella stood out against the walls of chipped black paint and a smokey atmosphere.

You kept your gaze flitting about the room, landing on the magazines on a coffee table and stickers placed haphazardly across various furniture. The few people sitting across from you reflected the vibe of the tattoo shop perfectly. Darkly eccentric clothes, skin painted with ink, and a tired look to their eyes.

When you had booked this tattoo appointment you didn't know what to expect. And now, sitting with an awkward stiffness in the hardbacked waiting room chair, you began to question your decision. How embarrassing would it be if you just got up and left? Surely you could get a refund?

It had been 3 months since your Grandpa Henry had passed away, and you didn't want his existence to be some fleeting memory, you had to get something permanent for him. You had been planning on getting some art commission to hang up in your apartment, but that fantasy was quickly dashed by your rather thin wallet.

Even though it was a leap in your confidence, you settled on getting a tattoo. For the past few weeks, the nerves have been building up as you spent your free time researching tattoo shops and what a tattoo would even feel like.

The idea of having your skin permanently marked by something that could end up horrible to look at was more than a bit troubling. That's why you settled on something small and somewhere inconsequential. Sorry Grandpa, but you're going to have to be content out of the spotlight.

Calling the shop was the easy part. It was effortless to talk to the nice lady on the phone about your ideas and listen to her babble on about the latest news. But, now that you were sitting in the waiting room, anticipating the pain of the needles that were soon to be in your skin, you couldn't help but squirm in your seat.

You were quickly pulled out of your thoughts as a woman with tawny skin and bright, neon-pink hair came into the waiting room and called over another young woman to follow her. They walked into the back, or wherever they kept the tattoo rooms, and you noticed with a sigh the ease at which the young woman walked towards inevitable pain.

"Are you the 6 o'clock?" A familiar voice broke through your haze of thoughts. You vaguely placed it as the woman you spoke to on the phone when you booked you an appointment.

Scanning her over, you took in her friendly smile and ostentatious (and probably fake) jewelry, putting a face to the voice. "Yeah, that's me." You answered after a second.

She smiled brightly. She had an almost motherly look to her and a warm and comforting demeanour. Looking around at the peeling linoleum floor, the sticker-covered walls, and the various riff-raff who were inking memories and stories onto their skin, you had a passing thought that she was like the empress of the little tattoo parlour. Her beads and glued-on rhinestones would make a marvellous crown.

You had a quick discussion about price and confirmed what you were getting and then she led you down a short hallway and into a room. As you broke the threshold your ears were filled with 40s music and the soft, low sound of a man humming along. Your eyes drifted over to the source of the voice, who soon spun his stool around to reveal an alarmingly handsome face. Bright blue eyes met yours and your heart did a little somersault in your chest.

"Don't you worry, baby. This is Bucky, he'll take real good care of you." She patted your back and drifted back out of the room, her ebony skin disappearing down the hallway and out of view. As you stood awkwardly near the door, your gaze took in the rest of the room. It was dark and moody, and you figured that each artist must get to decorate their studio to their liking. The cart holding the ink, needles and other supplies stood next to one of those lay-down chairs that the person getting tattooed sits in. The man, Bucky, was already looking at you when you met his gaze again.

"Nervous, huh?" He chuckled lowly.

Your cheeks lit up in a hot blush as you were suddenly aware of how long you had been spacing out. "This is my first tattoo. Why? Was it that obvious?" You asked.

"Pretty obvious, yeah. S'okay. Why don't you sit down for me?" He grinned.

Ignoring the way his voice was like butter, you hopped up on the chair in the middle of the room. The leather was soft against your skin and you traced the tiny cracks in the fabric with your fingers, thinking about how many people had sat there before you. Rolling his stool over to the side of your chair, he grabbed a sketchbook from the cart next to you.

"So, what are you thinking of?" He asked casually as his eyes focused on you.

"I wanted to get an anchor for my grandpa." As you spoke, you got out your phone, pulling out the inspirational photos you had been endlessly looking over, tilting the screen so he could see. You watched as he scrutinized the photos, his brow furrowed in focus as if he was translating the pixels to ink in his mind.

After a second, he looked back up at you with a lazy grin. "Yeah, I can do that no problem."

He was already reaching over for his pens to start sketching the drawing onto transfer paper, and your eyes followed the careful movements, tracing the ink that covered his arms. There was barely an inch of uncovered skin.

The whole drawing took less than fifteen minutes, and the silence was comfortably filled with Bucky rambling about when he got his first tattoo. His low, slightly raspy voice covered you like a blanket, settling over you and calming your nerves. By the time he was finished with the sketch, you had already begun to warm up to him, making small talk that was somehow not awkward.

As he showed you the final version of the sketch, your nerves were calmed even more. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. You talked placement and sizing until the time finally came for the sketch to be transferred onto your skin.

"Alright, so.. on your thigh?" He said warmly.

"I read that it was one of the less painful areas." You said as you ran your fingers over your skin which was soon to be filled with ink. You had worn a skirt so that you didn't have to change or lose any modesty. The last thing you wanted was to flash your tattoo artist, especially now that you got one who was incredibly hot.

"Smart girl." He muttered in passing as he prepped the transfer paper.

You were sure it was just a casual expression, but you couldn't fight the way your cheeks flushed at the compliment. No sooner than you had that thought, Bucky had rolled his stool back over to the chair and had the transfer in his hand.

"Can I?" He asked expectantly.

You looked at him confused for a second before you caught up and inched your skirt up so he could transfer the tattoo onto your thigh.

"Right. Sorry." You watched the way he chuckled to himself as he pressed the sketch into your skin. His hands were warm even through the black latex gloves.

He started getting his needles and ink prepared and you fell back into easy conversation. "Why the anchor? Is your 'pops navy or something?" He asked curiously.

"He was, yeah." You said softly.

You didn't miss the way his hands, which were going through the motions of prepping the tattoo gun as if they had done so a million times before, stilled for just a second. His jaw ticked and he cleared his throat and resumed his preparations.

"Sorry for your loss. My family is army." He said quietly after a moment. You took the distraction of his past eagerly, wanting to think of something other than your Grandpa.

"Are you?" You asked carefully.

"I was, yeah. Now I do this." He said and gestured around the room. "You ready?"

Your awareness was suddenly brought back to the impending pain you were about to feel as your eyes locked on the tattoo gun hovering closer and closer to your skin. Your heart rate spiked as a pang of anxiety ran through your chest and your thoughts began to spiral. How long would it take? How much would it hurt? What if it got infected? As if he could sense your suddenly fearful thoughts, Bucky lowered the tattoo gun.

"Hey, it'll be fine. I've been doing this for years and you chose a really small design. It'll be over before you know it." He spoke reassuringly.

With a nod from you, he raised the tattoo gun, one hand on your thigh to steady himself, and made the first line. The pricking pain hit you instantly. It was sharp and stung like you were getting a vaccination or blood drawn. You always had a low pain tolerance, and don't know why that piece of knowledge decided to hide in your brain until now. If you knew it would have hurt this much, maybe you would have changed your mind. A whimper bubbled past your lips embarrassingly. Bucky's eyes darted up to yours, his brows furrowed with a little too much concern for someone you just met.

"Hey, hey, hey.. deep breath. You're okay. That's it…" He cooed soothingly.

You resisted the urge to hide your face in your hands and tried to mimic the way Bucky was breathing. Even though he was actively tattooing you, he kept his hand on your skin, watching your expression carefully. It was big enough to cover the entire width of your thigh. The latex of his glove suddenly felt far too thin. When he was satisfied you reached somewhat of a calmer state, he resumed his work, the needles pricking your skin once more.

"Alright, sweetheart, let's get this done." He muttered, almost to himself.

You closed your eyes to distract yourself, but it only made you more focused on the pain of the tattoo gun. But then the pain was paired with the calming touch of Bucky stroking the skin of your thigh with his steadying hand. Your eyes peeked open to the sight of him focusing, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth in concentration. Well, that's certainly distracting. You were all too aware of the way your skirt was pushed up. Even though it was for the sake of the tattoo, it was beginning to feel far too hot. As if he could feel your eyes on him, Bucky's gaze snapped up to yours and you quickly looked away.

The silence was filled with the quiet buzzing of the tattoo gun and Bucky humming along to the music playing on the radio. You were doing okay. You were gritting your teeth and bearing through it, not wanting to embarrass yourself further in front of your stupidly attractive tattoo artist. But it was late and you were getting tired. The pain was steadily growing from a dull ache into an overwhelming sting. You didn't even realize you were whining until the needles were no longer pricking your skin and Bucky was putting the tattoo gun down.

"Shh, it's okay, princess. We can take a break, yeah?" He said gently.

His hands were on your thighs as he rubbed your skin comfortingly, and you couldn't help but want to whine for a different reason.

"How much longer?" You asked with a wavering voice. Bucky's eyes softened, and he glanced at the half-finished anchor on your thigh and back up to you.

"We're almost done. You ready to get going again?" He asked as he picked up the tattoo gun.

Not trusting your voice, you elected simply to nod. As the pain returned, your nails dug into the leather of the chair, and you wondered if that's where the cracks you saw earlier came from. You knew you were beginning to get shaky, and even though you read about it during your anxious preparation, it was still upsetting. You looked around the room, trying to take your mind off the literal needles that were stabbing into you hundreds of times per second. Maybe you could distract yourself from figuring out the darkly gorgeous man tattooing you.

He kept the lights of the room low, probably to keep people calm, and the posters on the walls were at least nice to look at. There was a pair of dog tags hanging off a lamp on the desk in the corner, and you chalked that up to his army past. There were some plants, but the only one still alive was the cactus on the windowsill. But, you couldn't preoccupy yourself for long. Every time you thought you were getting used to the pain, a new wave of discomfort would hit you, leaving you whimpering in the chair. Your breath was getting a little shallow, and your other leg started bouncing to release some pent-up energy.

Bucky's hand which was comfortingly rubbing the thigh that he was tattooing shot out and grabbed your other leg, his fingers gripping your skin so firmly, the sudden sensation distracted you enough that your squirming stilled.

"Fuck, you gotta hold still, dolly." He rasped. "How 'bout you tell me about your 'pops?"

His voice was strained and you bit your lip to stifle a whimper. Your skirt was pulled up enough that his hand on your non-tattooed leg was high enough to be considered intimate. At least, it certainly felt that way to you. He squeezed your thigh, focusing your attention back on him, before he put it back on the leg he was tattooing.

"Talk, princess. You're almost done." He commanded softly.

The pain was still at the forefront of your mind, but now it was fighting with the heat in your core that was slowly growing.

"Um.. he was a sailor. He.. his name was Henry." You began to recall fond memories of your Grandpa, and the pain of the tattoo slowly faded into a manageable ache.

"That's a good girl. Keep talking, sweetheart." He muttered quietly.

The praise made your breath hitch and the sound that fell from your lips wasn't from pain anymore. The only sign that he noticed your breathy whine was the little smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"And… all done." He announced.

The buzzing of the tattoo gun ceased and Bucky had already put it down, as if the tattoo never even happened. The only evidence of what you'd struggled through for the last hour was the perfectly executed anchor on your skin and the dull ache of your thigh. Bucky had already moved back over to you and was starting to clean and wrap your leg. His hands brushed the skin of your inner thigh, causing you to suck in a sharp breath, his eyes flickering over to you for a moment. There was that smirk again.

"That's it?" You asked breathlessly.

"That's it. You did so well, princess." He said as he finished wrapping your thigh. After putting his supplies back onto the cart, he pulled your skirt back down almost protectively, his hands lingering a little too long to be professional.

"Here. You even get a lollipop for being such a good girl." He grinned as helped you off the chair, his hand brushing yours as he handed you the candy.

He said the praise so casually, but it still sent your head spinning and your cheeks burning with a dusting of pink.

"Thanks…" You mumbled.

"You can pay at the front. Call us if you have any questions. Be safe, princess." He said as his eyes drifted down to your thigh.

Your heart sank as you kicked yourself for thinking there was even a sliver of attraction that he felt for you. Obviously, the hot tattoo artist must get girls fawning over him all the time, you weren't anything special. Biting back a frown, you nodded and thanked him one more time before heading back up to the front of the store to pay. The friendly babbling of the same dark-skinned woman who had taken you to Bucky's tattoo room went in one ear and out the other. Your head was way too messy to pay attention.

After thanking the staff one more time, you grabbed your umbrella and coat and headed back out into the rainy Brooklyn streets. As you walked back to your apartment, your thoughts endlessly drifting back to Bucky, you pulled the lollipop out of where you'd put it in your pocket. If you couldn't have him, at least you had candy. Just as you were about to mindlessly crumple up the wrapper, you noticed something scrawled in pen on the plastic. It was an address and a phone number.

'Dinner this weekend. Don't be shy, doll.' It read.

You stopped in your tracks in the middle of the sidewalk, ignoring the dirty looks of the pedestrians who nearly walked into you, smiling like an idiot. It wasn't even written as a question and you could hear his low, slightly raspy voice saying the words in your head. The ache in your thigh, the ache in your heart, and even the now permanent marking on your body were all worth it. You had the passing thought that maybe your Grandpa was setting you up from wherever he was.

"Thanks, Grandpa.." You whispered to yourself and walked home with a spring in your step.

#bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #oneshot #tattoo artist!bucky

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cambion-companion · 2 years

Note

Hi I like your blog ^_^ I was wondering if I can request a soft NSFW oneshot of Aemond feeling insecure about his eye and scar, but (fem!) reader lovingly rides him and gives him all the attention? I just want him to feel good 🤧

Hi guys! I love the idea of Aemond and his wife overhearing some ladies gossiping about Aemond's eye and what horror may lie beneath...upsetting him and it's up to the reader to pull his thoughts back to her...it does get smutty towards the end so 18+ only (also this somehow became a continuation of my Lannister!reader fics...must be the wine.)

word count: 2500

Medieval insults here

Aemond x fem!Lannister!reader | upset Aemond | comforting Aemond | smut | first time sapphire reveal

“That’s Lady Beesbury.” You took a sip of wine from your golden goblet, leaning closer to Aemond as you spoke. “She’s a horrible creature. Called me a ‘crooked-nosed fopdoodle’ just yesterday.”

Your betrothed, who had also taken a mouthful of his red wine, choked. You patted him heavily upon his back several times as he coughed and laughed. A tear streaming from his lilac eye, Aemond looked at you incredulously. “She…she did not.”

“On my honor as a Lannister, she did.” You tilted your glass, pressing your lips together in a thin line as you nodded.

“I don’t disagree entirely on the ‘fopdoodle’ aspect.” Aemond chuckled into his drink. “However, your nose isn’t crooked.” He reached out, tweaking your nose between two fingers.

You made an undignified squeaking noise, rearing away from him, pushing his shoulder playfully. “If I am a fopdoodle, you are a mandrake mymmerkin!”

“Hmm. Harsh.” Aemond cut you a sidelong look. “Yet you seem more than satisfied with how I attend to your desires.”

You ignored his mischievous glance, instead gesturing toward a group of foreigners, their furs still draped about their shoulders despite the heat of the Keep. “Who are they?”

“Northerners by the looks of them. Botons perhaps, due to the unsavory pallor of their cheeks.” Aemond sniffed, his brow furrowing in distaste.

“Yes. I’m none too fond of the North, myself.”

“Snow doesn’t befit a lion?” Aemond teased, pressing his shoulder affectionately against your own.

“Nor a dragon.” You smiled at his familiar touch, savoring the smokey scent of him.

You lapsed into silence, both watching as the Bolton group, tousled of hair and wan of face, shuffled from the great hall.

Aemond placed his hand at the small of your back, his fingers probing the scarlet silk of your dress. He caught your eye, opening his mouth to speak but the chatter of young women cut him off as a group of them swept into the hall. “…what’s beneath.” The tallest of them was saying, her auburn hair shining straight, lit by the setting sun. “He wears that eyepatch at all times.” You glanced at your prince, noting the sudden tension in his jaw as the girl continued. “Some say there’s ghastly ball of flame where his eye used to be.”

“Others say it is rotten, and not to get too near for the smell of it.” Another girl piped up, her friends nodding at her shrill words.

“It’s obviously the reason he keeps to himself so much.” The red-haired lady spoke again. “He’s a cripple for life. He would be handsome otherwise I dare say. No one desires him.”

You felt Aemond leave your side, the absence of his presence sending a cold chill down your side. Turning, you saw him departing, his long silver hair swishing against his rigid back as he strode from the hall, unnoticed by the gaggle of gossiping girls.

“I desire him.” You said firmly, making a split-second decision, walking purposefully toward the group of women.

A dark-haired lady scoffed at your words, her expression mocking as she looked you up and down. Her brown eyes registered the scarlet gown you wore, your golden hair and fierce green eyes, the lion pendant upon your chest. She decided better than to speak, biting her words down as she closed her mouth.

You appraised her down your nose. “Wise choice, girl.”

“Who are you?” The leader of the pack, the redhead, half-snarled at your unwelcome presence.

“Y/N Lannister.” You answered, your fiery gaze flicking to her face. “Betrothed to Aemond Targaryen. I won’t ask for your names as they are sadly irrelevant.” You leaned forward, imposing as you stood taller than any of them. “Mark me well, ladies, for this will be your only warning. Speak ill of our prince again and I will make sure you and your families are cut off entirely from the Lannister coffers.”

“Is that a threat?” The most vocal of the women spoke, trying to mask her fear.

“It’s a promise.” You tilted your head at her, a smirk tugging your lips. “You’d be lucky to get away with simple poverty.”

With a swirl of your silken gown you departed, leaving the girls gaping at your retreating form.

You found Aemond in his chambers. Entering unnoticed, you closed the door quickly, bolting it behind you. He was seated before the fire, the window behind him framing a darkening sky of deep blue streaked with the last orange rays of the sun.

You knew he heard your entrance but did not raise his head to meet your gaze as you approached where he sat. “Aemond.” You lowered yourself to the cushions beside him, reaching out to tuck a gentle finger beneath his chin. “My dragon.” You tilted his head up, meeting no resistance as at last his eye met your own. “They’re nothing, Aemond.” You tactfully ignored the redness around his purple iris, the dampness of his cheek. He moved away from your touch, you lowered your hand to your lap, still keenly studying his face. “They’re ignorant young women with wicked tongues. Give them no credence.”

Aemond was silent several long moments. He stood, approaching the fire, staring into the dancing flames. “It was the night I claimed Vhagar as my own.” He spoke low, almost a whisper. “My nephews…attacked me. I fought them off, but one brought a knife and, well…” He turned to face you, gesturing toward the side of his face covered by the eyepatch.

“Why did they attack you?”

Aemond shrugged. “They felt entitled to claim Vhagar. They feel entitled to a great many things. Even my eye.” His face darkened. “I should have fed them to my dragon.”

“No, Aemond.” You rose fluidly to your feet, taking his forearms in your hands. “Kinslaying would have had dire consequences this world would never recover from.”

“Yes, I know.” Aemond sighed, pressing his forehead against your own. “I can promise you, however, that there isn’t some ghostly flame where my eye used to be.”

“May I see?”

The prince was silent again, his fingers gripping your own forearms tightly as he looked down at your upturned face. “Yes.” His expression was solemn, guarded, as if he expected you to recoil the moment you saw him unmasked.

He made no movement, so you took it upon yourself to slowly reach up, hooking your fingers beneath the band of his leather eyepatch. You carefully removed the fabric from his head, revealing the vertical scar in its entirety. Where his eye had once been now sat a sparkling sapphire cut with many facets that reflected the firelight.

Your fingers traced along the scar as Aemond watched your expression carefully, he made to turn his face away, but you caught his jaw in your hand. “Aemond…you’re beautiful.” You giggled at the slack expression on his face. “This is beautiful.” You rose up on your tip toes, placing the softest of kisses against the cool stone eye. You felt Aemond’s breath catch as your palms pressed against his chest. “You’re the loveliest gem in Westeros.”

His violet eye narrowed at you. “You’re drunk.”

“I am not.” You gasped in mock outrage. “Lannisters don’t get drunk on so little wine.”

“You’re raving then.” Aemond turned away from you, back to the fire. “My disfigured face inspires fear and disgust, nothing more.”

“Aemond…” You reached for him, gently touching his elbow.

“Loveliest gem indeed.” He made a movement, ducking his head and reaching for his face with both hands. You couldn’t see what he had done until he turned back to face you. The sapphire now lay in his upturned palm, the socket of his eye now an empty blackness. His one eye burned with the intensity of his gaze. You schooled your expression, reaching up once more with light fingers to caress under the empty eye.

“You infuriating, hard-headed man.” You kissed him again, this time just below his gaping eye. “What will it take for you to understand I am not going anywhere.” Your kisses trailed down his cheek to the column of his neck where you nuzzled into him.

You were gratified as you felt his arms wrap around you, drawing you closer as you continued to press your lips against his warm skin. “I choose you because I want you, Aemond.”

You reached back, undoing the lacings of your dress, shuffling off the rich fabric so that it pooled around your feet. Aemond’s eye dilated as he watched you, he caught your hand as it made to unlace the ties of your undergarment. “Y/N…we shouldn’t.”

“We should.” With little effort, you moved his hand to cup the swell of your breast.

He palmed you beneath the thin fabric of your shift. You arched into his touch, unbuckling the dark green tunic he wore until it fell to the ground alongside your discarded dress. Your fingers explored the planes of his defined chest and torso, dipping down to the waistband of his trousers, untying the lacings there as well as you backed him toward the waiting bed.

“Y/N.” Aemond groaned, ducking to capture your parted lips with his in a searing kiss.

You pushed him back upon the mattress, pulling his remaining clothing off before crawling atop him, your hair falling to frame your faces. Aemond’s long silken hair was spread atop the mattress, you couldn’t resist running your fingers through it, tugging slightly to elicit a small moan from his lips.

“Is this alright?” You sat up straight, your thighs gripping Aemond’s trim waist as you looked down at his flushed face. “Me being on top?”

You felt his cock twitch against the inside of your leg as he rose against you, seeking friction. “Yes.” Was all he seemed able to say in the moment, his fingers grasping the flesh of your hips with bruising intensity.

In one movement you raised your shift over your head, tossing it aside, baring yourself completely to Aemond’s lustful gaze. You massaged your own breasts, tweaking your nipples gently as you ground your wet heat along his hard arousal, coating his length with your slick.

Aemond steadied you with firm hands as you rose up, taking him in hand and aligning him to your ready entrance. The both of you moaned in unison as you sunk slowly down upon him, his long cock burying itself deep within your quivering walls.

“Aemond.” You gasped, the overwhelming feeling of his girth stretching you causing you to lean forward, pressing your hands against his chest for support.

“Move.” He pleaded, catching your lower lip with his teeth as you brushed your mouth against his.

You began rocking up and down, back and forth, savoring the feel of being in control, angling yourself so that Aemond’s manhood stroked against your most sensitive spots. His breath filled your lungs, his tongue sliding along yours to the rhythm of your love making.

You broke the kiss, straightening once more, fucking him faster, allowing his cock to hit against the deepest part of you. Aemond reached up, securing your bouncing breasts in his hands, kneading the sensitive flesh as you arched your neck back, a sound of pleasure caught in your throat.

Your name spilled from his parted lips, you looked back down to his face, reveling in the beauty of it. “I want you.” Your words were uttered like a prayer between gasps for breath. “I want to be yours. I need you to be mine.” You shuddered, your core clenching tightly around Aemond’s cock. “Aemond.”

“Lean against me, my love.” Aemond’s hands gripped your waist as you pressed your chest flush to his, your lips connecting in a sloppy kiss of tongue and teeth. Aemond rose his hips to meet you, pumping his length into you with wild abandon. His moans mingling with your own, the lewd slapping of flesh and musky scent of sex permeating the night air.

“Aemond I-” You panted, pressing your forehead against his, your eyes closed in rapture. “I’m going to…I want you to come inside me.”

You were still atop him now, letting Aemond take control as he set a punishing pace, the head of his cock hitting your cervix with a jolt of electric pleasure. He groaned at your words, biting down upon your shoulder as he neared his own climax.

You felt him begin to twitch inside you, the feeling of his teeth marking your flesh sending you crashing over the edge. Aemond drove himself deep into you several more times before seating himself to the hilt inside your cunt as it milked the seed from him.

He rolled you over onto your back, his silver hair tickling your chest as he leaned over you. “You are a wonder, Y/N.” Aemond kissed you softly upon your slack lips. “A creature apart from this world.”

Aemond rutted himself into you several more times, loathe to leave your silken heat. When he did pull out, you felt oddly empty, the evidence of his orgasm leaking from you onto the rumpled sheets. He kissed you deeper, slanting his mouth over yours, drinking down your weak mewls of lingering pleasure, his hands still groping the ample flesh of your thigh.

You remained locked together like this for many blissful moments, savoring the warm embrace of the other. The taste of his lush lips moving with your own, the feel of his heartbeat against your chest, his arms cradling you against him as your leg was lifted over his waist.

“I want to give you something.” Aemond murmured against your searching lips, brushing his nose against yours.

“Something else?” You teased, your eyes opening to take in his adoring expression. “You’re so generous, my prince.”

He rewarded your wit with a dry chuckle, disentangling himself as he moved off the bed, walking over to rummage through the nearby dresser. You stretched languidly, admiring the view of his bare body before you.

Aemond returned to your side, a small box in his open palm. A small smile traced his curved lips as he watched you undo the small ribbon, pulling off the lid to reveal what lay inside. A gasp escaped your lips, your eyes flicking from his face to the ring that sparkled in the lowlight. It was delicately crafted, wrought silver bands entwining to hold an exquisitely cut sapphire gemstone.

“I know it is not of the traditional make.” Aemond explained, still watching your expressions. “It was cut from the same stone that made my false eye.” He hesitated only a moment before continuing. “I would be honored if you would wear this to signify our union.”

“It’s…” Your voice caught in your constricting throat, unbidden tears welling in your eyes. “Aemond it’s…lovely. Yes, I will wear it.” You allowed him to slip the ring onto your finger, admiring the beauty of it as Aemond held your hand in his.

“Now you will always have a part of me with you.” Aemond kissed the top of your head as you drew him down into an embrace.

“Hopefully more than one now.” You guided your interlocked fingers to rest atop your womb, where you could still feel his release warm inside yourself.

“Hmm.” Aemond agreed, tucking your head beneath his chin, his legs entwining with your own.

Your breathing steadied; heavy eyes unable to tear themselves away from the shining gemstone that adorned your finger, signifying your belonging to Aemond Targaryen.

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prodbyblush · 2 years

Note

Hello I'm a new follower! I saw your Murayama posts in the HiGH&LOW tags so I decided to give you a follow. I noticed that your bio says that requests are always open, and I wanted to ask if you could write a series of firsts with Smoky? It doesn't have to be anything NSFW if you're not comfortable with that, so I was thinking stuff like holding hands, hugging, kissing, cuddling/sleeping together, or just the reader asking to paint his nails? Just something super fluffy for him, I noticed he's not written about a lot compared to other characters. Thank you <3

ｎｏｗｌｏａｄｉｎｇ …

▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 100%

ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ!

・❥・ requested

cw: slight nsfw at the end! watered it down as anon have mentioned it.

→ fem!reader

FIRST...LOVE

Truth be told, there is no such thing nor a scientific explanation that could explain how an individual could immediately fall in love with another person. It doesn't make any sense. How can you just fall for someone whom you've just taken one glance in your life? You barely knew them. What's their to love immediately about?

Smokey didn't understood all of that until he met you. You who's heart felt like was tugging on the strings of his heart, you who's smile reaches and touches his soul, you who is the reason why he makes de tours just to catch a quick sight of you, leaving and returning to Nameless City with a big smile on his face.

FIRST...HOLDING HANDS

The thought only occurred to him when he couldn't sleep and all he could think about is you as he lays down in bed, wide awake and staring up at the stars. And then it dawned into him: what did your hands feel like?

"Obviously my hand is smaller than yours." You replied to him as you pressed your palms against his. And the sight was simply adorable to him. He may disagree with you on the part that your hand is smaller than his, because as he moves to intertwine his fingers around yours, they fit very much perfectly well with his.

"Your hands are so soft!"

FIRST...DATE

It was honestly a spontaneous one yet no one from Rude Boys believed him. Reasoning that Smokey really staged for it to happen. But did he really?

All Smokey knew was that you got off work / school at five in the afternoon and it so happens that he is in the same area as you. What a coincidence! One thing led to another - viewing the blooming flowers in the park, playing in the playground like little children, eating dinner together.

"You're doing it again." You say, chuckling softly.

Smokey breaks into a small smile. "Doing what?"

"You're staring at me again."

"It's because you're beautiful."

FIRST...KISS

A kiss is never just a kiss.

It's a cure, an epiphany, a salvation. And you are all three to him.

Coming face to face with you, breaths hitching and arms wrapped around each other, desperate for more than just a touch, Smokey closes his eyes and meshes his lips on yours.

Slow and deep, searing and made for pleasure.

His hands around your waist loosens as he sits up from the couch, moving to situate you on top of his lap, hands moving down as he grabs your ass.

With your fingers tangling on his hair, he tilts his head to the side to deepen the kiss, pushing his tongue inside your mouth, tasting every cavern and crevice.

Long awaited, hot and with tongue, Smokey hadn't expected his first kiss to come to him like this. But he is glad that his firsts and many more to come are with you.

#smokey oneshots #rude boys smokey #smokey x reader #smokey #high&low x reader #high&low #high and low oneshot #high and low

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woahiwrite · 11 months

Note

Hi 👋🙂

I saw that you're taking requests and that you write for Tomas. There just isn't enough of him on this site and I am down BAD for this Smokey Bear ❤️. Could you maybe write about him having a partner who doesn't know how to fight so he teaches her some basic moves? Could go a bit NSFW if you feel it, could be fem or GN reader. Obviously feel free to ignore too!

Tomas Teaching Reader How To Fight (18+)

Warnings: NSFW after a certain point! Minors leave or I'm calling Liu Kang to reset your timeline. The NSFW will be marked with -----. The HCs switch to more oneshot style writing once it reaches the NSFW section. Reader is loosely described as just being smaller than Tomas and is female!

Hello Anon! You're so right, Tomas needs more love. I will feed the Tomas tag as much as your heart desires.

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

• Tomas definitely asked you if you knew how to fight

• He was all for protecting you, he loved the thought of it

• Though he wasn't naive enough to think he would always be there to do so

• One thing led to another, and you had set up your own training schedule

• It was flexible, working off of Tomas' own schedule, and depending on how much you were feeling it

• He wouldn't push you to pick up some rough and tumble training regiment, he wanted you to be comfortable

• But he also wanted you to be safe

• Tomas would start out very simple, punches and kicks, blocks and dodges

• You may have asked to learn how to use the karambit like he had, but he turned that offer down

▪︎ "Basics first, then, we can talk about you learning the karambit."

• You were excited to spend more time with Tomas either way, so you were pleased

• As agile and strong as he was, you could tell Tomas was slowing down a lot to help you understand

• Allowing you to see the form, to see how his body curves, and to replicate it yourself

• Ask questions, he will break it down as much as you need him to

• He's quite happy to, actually

• It's about two months of learning the basics at a consistent rate before you start to do anything together

• Of course, he would let you practice on him, but this was a little different

• From now on, you would add some grappling to your training

• What good was knowing the basics if the moment the opponent got you to the ground, you had no idea what to do?

• The first few lessons were simply you watching while Tomas broke it down with another ninja of the Lin Kuei

• Going from showing you what it would be like at more fast speeds, before slowing it down so you could actually see what the hell he was doing

• It excited you to think of getting to learn how to get out of tricky situations

• Also the thought of eventually learning how to flip Tomas was an entertaining one

------(NSFW content: dry humping, almost getting caught)-----

• Though you couldn't say you expected to notice how...different it was to actually be the one performing the different escape techniques

• Watching was one thing, but you wouldn't deny that you could barely focus when it was you participating

• Tomas was saying something

• Definitely important with how his hands were moving as he talked, probably running through the motions

• All you could focus on was the feeling of his thighs on either side of your waist

• The way he seemed so much bigger than he already was from this angle

▪︎ "Are you listening?"

Bringing your gaze back up to Tomas', you felt your face grow hot at being caught. He seemed amused but also a little shy at your shameless staring, either way he didn't make any comments on it. "Yes, I'm listening." You stated, your hands resting on his thighs as you tried to focus back in on the lesson at hand. Though really, you just focused in on his face the moment he had finished explaining what you had to do to escape from him. The scar that ran over his left eye, the one that ran across his forehead, the most prominent beauty mark that resided just a bit above his lips. It almost felt like they were begging for your own lips to press against them. Which you had before, multiple times, in scenarios not too different from this.

Slightly adjusting his sitting, Tomas brought one hand down to press against your neck, reaching down to his belt, he pulled out a karambit. "Don't worry, this one is dull." He stated, before positioning his hand as if ready to attack you with it. You swallowed thickly, tongue briefly darting out to wet your lips, and you didn't miss the way his eyes followed the motion. "Try to escape." The slight strain in Tomas' voice almost made you grin, though instead, you decided you should probably actually try your best. You'd been learning this, hands on, for a week, and you'd always fallen short. Needing him to go easy on you so you could successfully get him off.

You didn't want that this time though. You wanted to show him how much you've trained on your own time. Planting your feet, the moment he began to flex his arm to bring it in for a slash, you drove your knee up into his back. He fell forward, letting out a grunt at the force of it, his hand landing beside your head. Keeping your foot braced on your other leg, you restricted him the best you could from being able to sit back up. Bringing your hands in to bend and push down the arm of the hand that was on your neck, you kept your hands secured around it. Then came the hardest part, Tomas wasn't holding his weight up, keeping you pinned moreso with that than anything else, so you struggled to displace him enough to flip him off of you.

You kept his arm in place so he couldn't disengage, breaking away your leg positioning quick enough so you could hook your leg over his and try to swipe his foot inward. At first, he simply readjusted his foot, and he began to pull your body up with his as he got the opportunity to sit back up. You huffed, and swiped at his foot harder, causing it to slip and shift his bodyweight to one side. Using that to your advantage, you used all the strength you had left to push him over. You felt excitement rush through your veins when his back hit the mat with a thud, letting out an excited exclamation and completely forgetting you hadn't truly gotten away from him yet.

"You didn't have to go easy o-" His hand that you had released came up to grab your arm and pull you back down onto him, but instead of being met with further trial, you were met with a kiss. Despite all the built up energy, his lips against yours was soft, the kiss passionate. You relaxed against his hold, eyes closing as you brought your arms down to wrap around his shoulders. When he pulled away, you were left breathless, and when your eyes opened, you were met with a look of pure adoration. You smiled, "Was that my reward?"

Tomas laughed, pulling your body up with ease to assist with you both untangling your legs from the awkward position you had ended in. "You almost sound disappointed." He grinned, putting down the dull karambit he had been holding, sliding it aside so he could have you in both his arms. Straddling his waist, you didn't fail to feel the press of his erection against you. Taking a gamble, you pulled your hips up before slowly pushing them back down, grinding against him. A shaky breath fell from Tomas' lips, and you felt pleased feeling his hands press against your back, trying to pull you closer.

"Not disappointed..never disappointed." You brought your hands forward to cup his face, pressing your lips to his as you began to cant your hips at a more steady pace. Your shared moans were muffled by the kiss, to be briefly heard by the both of your ears and your ears only. You had almost forgotten you were in the training room, almost.

The first to hear the sound of approaching footsteps and the voices of a small group, Tomas pulled away quickly. At first, you were confused, thinking you had done too much in a space like this, then you noticed the wide eyed glance Tomas sent towards the closed doors. You had quickly stood up, then, working to adjust your ruffled clothes and just hoped whoever came in wouldn't have an inkling of an idea as to what had happened. Tomas mimicked your behavior, wiping his sleeve over his mouth to rid the lingering glisten of saliva, adjusting his clothes because now you had him almost painfully hard.

Door sliding open, you were greeted with a few Lin Kuei, stretching their arms as they prepared to practice for the day. "Tomas." They bowed to him as they walked passed, grabbing training weapons of their choice. Tomas nodded his head, bending down to pick up the karambit he had slid aside and place it back on the weapons table. You decided to make your departure quick, lips pursed and trying not to laugh at the struggle of your boyfriend. Tomas was not far behind you, letting out a relieved sigh once out of the suddenly suffocating practice room.

"I'm sorry, I didn't expect us-"

"Don't worry about it, you did good today."

You smiled at his kindness, and gently nudged his arm with your shoulder, "We can stop by your room for a bit..can't we?"

#mortal kombat fanfiction #mortal kombat x reader #tomas vrbada headcanons #tomas vrbada x reader #tomas vrbada smut #woahiwrite

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writingbirdy · 9 months

Text

Hi! Could you please write a drabble/oneshot/headcanons (whichever you prefer) about cuddling with Larry (fem s/o if possible but gn is good ^-^)

{The reader can be any gender you want them to be}

(I'm so sorry but I accidentally posted it before I was finished and lost the user who asked 😔)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Larry Johnson cuddling headcannon

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

If you both are watching a movie or a show he'll hold your hand and snuggle close to you

When you cuddle in bed at night he holds you close to him because you're so warm

He loves to hug you from behind if you're talking to someone or doing something

When you're sad he'll sit with you and stroke you're hair while you vent to him

After a long day of school you slowly drag yourself into your apartment and flop on you're bed. You pull out you're phone to see that larry has texted you.

Larry: hey (y/n) you want to come over?

Y/n: yeah let me just feed smokey and ill be there soon!

You but your phone in youre pocket and walked to your kitchen to be greeted by a small meow of your kitten smokey who was a beautiful tuxedo cat. "Hey girl ill just feed you and ill be going" you say to the kitten. She looks at you with a tilted head at the mention of food. After feeding smokey you put you're shoes back on and locked your apartment, walking to the elevator and pressed the button to the basement.

Once you had reached larry's apartment you opened the door to see Lisa sat on the couch. "Hello dear larry is in his room" Lisa turns and smiles at you. "Thanks Lisa!" You say running into larry's room.

"Larry!" You yell giggling as you jump on top of him. "Ow! Shit that hurt" he laughs pulling you close and cuddling you. "I'm sorry hehe" you say kissing his cheek. You both layed and talked about anything you both could think of. New films coming out, school, future date and plans to hang out with the rest of the gang. As the two of you talked it soon started to turn night and you slowly closed you're eyes and you heard larry whisper "goodnight I love you" and you finally let sleep take over

#sally face #sally face fandom #travis phelps #larry johnson #ashley campbell #sal fisher #todd morrison #larry johnson x reader #fem reader #gender neutral reader #male reader

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asumofwords · 1 year

Text

The Sublet - Roommate!AU

Warnings: She/her pronouns, slow burn, angst. Tags will be added as the fic goes along.

Pairings: Modern!Aemond x Reader

Summary: Living with Helaena Targaryen was one of the best decisions you had ever made. Meeting at university, the two of you became thick as thieves and quickly best friends, moving into a flat together. But what will happen when Helaena has to leave, and her quiet, brooding, brother moves in?

Notes: Hello angels! Sorry for the late update for this one, got lost in the sauce of writing the Til Death Do Us Part oneshot. Haha anyway, here is the new chapter, I hope you enjoy! <3

Chapter 7: Hard truths

It was the tension that was the most unbearable part of it all. The feeling of words that had been left unspoken, apologies not voiced aloud, grievances that were left to fester in the quiet of the apartment after that fateful night.

When you went to work the next day, your eyes had been puffy from crying, and Jasper had asked you on multiple occasions what was wrong. You had told him it was your allergies, dust in the office irritating your eyes, but you could tell by just the way he had looked at you that he didn’t believe you.

You felt entirely defeated by it all.

Exhausted by it.

Tiptoeing in your own home, walking on eggshells, hiding in your room, not making a peep to avoid the cold glares of Aemond. And he had done much the same, staying out late, or going straight to his room when he got home.

And by the time the time the weekend had rolled in, you had had enough of sulking and decided to reply to Cregan’s invitation with a very enthusiastic yes.

Cregan told you that the boys would all be there, even Jacaerys and Lucerys, who were yet to head to the Keep to be with their family, the weekend being a final hurrah before the storm that waited for them back in their old home.

When you woke that morning, excited that the weekend was finally here and that you had something to look forward to in the evening, you decided you were going to do a quick clean of the apartment, chucking on some noise cancelling headphones and making your way to the kitchen.

You made swift work of it, and before long, you were washing your hair and getting ready for the night. Cregan had texted you excitedly saying the boys were keen to see you, and had asked if you wanted to go to his first.

You threw on an outfit that was short and sleek, hugging your curves perfectly and revealing ample cleavage. Paired with a bit of a smokey eye and your hair in a style you favoured, you looked at yourself in the mirror and smirked.

You looked hot.

Really hot.

When you came out of your room, Aemond was on the couch, watching as you ordered your Uber to take you straight to Cregan’s. You didn’t spare him a single glance, but you knew he was looking at you. You could feel the heat of his gaze roaming over your body.

Leaving without a goodbye, you hopped straight into your Uber and headed to Cregan’s, greeted by the hulking figure at the door, with loud chattering behind him and music playing.

“Look at you.” Cregan smirked as you gave him a little spin.

“Look at me.” You winked, jumping into his arms for a massive hug, the large man picking you off the ground with a shift of his back as you squealed, before placing you back down.

“The boys are keen to see you.”

You smiled, following him down the hall to the lounge room where Cregan’s friends all sat on various couches and chairs.

Two familiar faces came into view, Jacaerys and Lucerys Velaryon.

Both brown haired boys gazes fell on you, wide smiles spreading on their cheeks. Jacaerys jumped up with a cry of your name before rushing towards you, pulling you into a soft hug, followed by his younger brother Lucerys, who had grown a foot since the last time you saw him. Lost were his cherubic cheeks, and in their place, cheekbones that sat high on his face like his mother.

“It's been so long!” You whined, looking at Luc who now stood taller than you, “Fuck you’ve grown. What are they feeding you on Dragonstone?”

Lucerys blushed, looking away before a smirk pulled at his lips, “Not enough. You haven’t grown a bit.”

“I stopped growing a long time ago, you ass.” You chuckled.

You didn’t get to see Jacaerys and Lucerys often, having met them a few times through Cregan, and the others through Helaena. At one point you had classes with the older brother, and he had always been nothing but kind and respectful towards you.

Despite not seeing them as often as you wished, you still considered them good friends.

Scanning the rest of the room, you spotted the one and only Kermit Tully, seated beside his brother Elmo Tully. After Daeron's confession to you on the phone the other day, you couldn’t even look at Kermit without having burning questions. You put them in the back of your mind to ask later.

Cerwyn, Cregan’s best friend who was as large and as broad as Stark was, stood by the window smoking a joint, giving you a small wave and a smile from across the room.

“Where are we going first?” You asked, being handed your favourite drink from Cregan as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

“We should go to the Red Kraken.” Jace suggested, sitting back down in his seat to sip on his beer.

Cerwyn chuckled, “You keen to see Dalton again?” He asked you, eyebrow raised.

Dalton Greyjoy, owner of the Red Kraken, was a man a few years older than Cregan. The last time you had went to his venue with the Stark, he had suggested the three of you go back to his when he clocked off. It was brazen and daring, but you couldn’t deny the man was attractive. He had dark hair and dark brown eyes that were almost black.

Dalton stood taller than Cregan, if you could believe it, and was often found at one of the local boxing rings for fun.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say I didn’t want to see him again.” You cheeked, Jacaerys chuckling on the couch as he explained the situation to a very confused Luc, the younger boys cheeks going a bright red.

“Hey!” Cregan chastised you, pinching your side.

“What? He’s handsome and ruggish. A bit more dark and mysterious than you are.”

“No mystery with that one.” Kermit piped up from his seat, taking a cheeky sip of his drink, eyes watching you over the rim of the can, “If you want to see his cock, just ask.”

“Kermy!”

“What?”

Cregan burst into laughter beside you and all followed.

You all finished your drinks and found your way into the city, heading straight for the Red Kraken.

It was a dingy bar, more male populated than not, but it had a fun feel to it.

Grungy and dirty, it had mismatching couches and tables, and a great smoking area out the back. On Fridays they had sport trivia nights which Cregan had once taken you to.

You lost.

You all sat down and drank and laughed, and you felt the tension from the week slough off your back like snow in spring.

It was good to be with friends like them, and you had only wished that the girls were there to join you all.

The night flew by, and your sides were in stitches from laughing so much. Dalton had come over to speak to you all at one point whilst the bar was slow, and you had felt his gaze lower to your breasts on more than one occasion. When he left, you had whispered into Cregan's ear about taking him up on his offer, which had earnt you a scandalised look.

It wasn't a no though.

“If you don’t want Dalton, I’d be happy to replace him.” Cerwyn smirked.

Cregan declared that he owed the entire table a round for that comment, and Cerwyn had done as ordered without apology or regret, a teasing 'anything for you, love' flowing from his lips.

As the night moved on, you all decided to move to the next venue, and it was your good idea to take them all to the bar that Sara had taken you to. All were in favour, and so you made your way down to the silk lanes, Lucerys’ bright brown eyes eyeing the doors of the strip clubs excitedly.

“Is that it?” Elmo sighed, looking at the busted wall and green door entrance.

“Don’t judge a book by its cover.”

Jacaerys stepped into the venue immediately, security guard nodding at him as he entered, not bothering to check his ID. Your brows furrowed as you looked up at Cregan, who just shrugged down at you.

As you walked down the stairs to enter the bar you caught up to Jace, who looked like he was at home.

“Have you been here before?” You asked, walking inside, seeing the bar staff nod at him, big grins on their cheeks.

“Daemon owns the joint with my mum.” Jacaerys told you, and you stilled.

This was Daemon and Rhaenyra’s bar.

“What? I didn’t even know that.” You whispered in a hushed tone, still loud enough to be heard over the music.

“Pretty low key, just another investment. They said they’ll hand it over to me eventually.”

“What the fuck?! Jace, that’s amazing!” You grinned, hugging him aggressively around his neck as you stood at the bar, waiting to be served.

Cregan moved behind you, hand winding around your waist as he whispered into your ear.

“Don’t freak out.”

You let go of Jace and turned to look back at him, “What? Wh-“

There, at the end of the bar, sat a familiar head of silver hair.

And his eye was on you.

You snapped your head away, uttering a quick ‘fuck’ beneath your breath.

Lucerys, following your eye line shifted uncomfortably, “Jace, Aemond’s here.” He whispered to his older brother, who turned to face his uncle, giving him a curt smile and nod before looking back to staff in front of him.

“He’s fine. Leave him be.”

It was awkward.

This was supposed to be your new place to get away from him, and now Aemond was here? And what was worse, you were here with people you knew he didn’t get along with. And the glare he directed towards you was apparent.

Cregan led you to go sit down at a booth at the encouragement of Jace who said the drinks were on him for the rest for the night, though in reality you knew it was more like on his parents, but you didn’t argue. Free drinks are free drinks, and you needed one now more than ever.

“Are you okay?” Cregan spoke lowly, hand holding yours on the table.

You swallowed, “I’m okay. It's just awkward.”

“He still giving you shit?”

“It's a long story, and one I’ll tell you later.”

Cregan pressed a kiss to the side of your head, your eyes immediately lifting to see Aemond watching you. The other boys came to join you at the booth, Cerwyn sliding in next to you, with Luc and the Tully brothers opposite. Jacaerys made his way over to his uncle, polite smile on his lips.

You watched as Jace and Aemond shared what looked to be a somewhat tense and awkward conversation, though completely civil. Aemond seemed to tolerate his nephew barely just, and Jacaerys had slapped a friendly hand on his uncles shoulder as he made his way back to you, earning the brown haired man a frown from a head of silver.

“I think we should leave.” Luc whispered, shoulders hunched as he curled in on himself.

Jace slid in next to him, “Don’t let him intimidate you.” He put a gentle hand on Luc’s shoulder, similar to how he had with Aemond, and you got the impression that Jacaerys being the eldest, was used to being the mediator, “Let's have a drink, enjoy each others company and have a good night.”

The staff brought over your drinks, sitting them in front of you, and you clinked all your glasses together messily in a toast, feeling Cregan whisper into your ear as you took a sip.

“Relax your shoulders." You did as you were told, not having realised how tense you were, "Don’t let him ruin your night. I’m here, the boys are here, and if at any point you want to leave, we will leave. Okay?”

You nodded.

No way in Hell were you letting him sour your mood again.

You all stayed at the bar, round after round of drinks being dumped on your table without any of you having to get up or order. You were messy and loud, but above all, happy.

You felt Aemond’s gaze on you for almost the entirety of the night, and caught his eye on multiple occasions, tension crackling in the air between you. But after your third cocktail, the heat of the drinks overpowered the heat of his gaze.

Eventually, Aemond stood from where he sat at the bar, your eyes immediately finding him and watching as he left, walking past your booth as he let his eye stray on Cregan’s hand that was wrapped over your shoulder. He continued on his path, nose held high as he disappeared up the steps.

Lucerys sighed, obviously having felt some sort of tension the entire time, “What the fuck was that?”

You groaned, burying your face into your hands.

“Aren’t you living with him?” Kermit asked, and all eyes immediately landed on you.

“What?” Jacaerys’ eyes went wide, “Since when do you live with my uncle? What happened to Helaena?”

“Hel is at the Keep, and Aemond needed a place to stay, so he’s in her room.”

“Gods help you.” Elmo falsely prayed, lifting his drink up in a mock toast.

Cerwyn and Cregan shared a look over the top of your head, and then with Jacaerys, sharing some sort of unspoken conversation. The only people confused at the table, were you, Luc and the Tully brothers.

“What?”

Cregan shrugged.

You felt that there was something unsaid, but you opted to leave it, sparking up a conversation with Kermit, asking pointedly about his love life, but not mentioning Daeron. The red headed man narrowed his eyes at you, wide smile pulling on his lips, before he started to go into great detail about someone he had fucked recently, with a full and lengthy description of their cock.

The two of you the only people at the table knowing who it was.

The night continued for a while, but you couldn’t help but feel the lingering guilt and upset that Aemond had triggered inside of you. Cregan, sensing the shift in your mood, decided to call it a night, and offered to take you home.

You said farewell to all the boys, and made them swear to do this more often, giving Lucerys a particularly tight hug, feeling the tension in the youngest boys shoulders.

When you and Cregan got back to the apartment, the lights were off, and the flat was bathed in darkness. You stumbled into the apartment giggling, shushing the tall man behind you who clunked loudly on the floor with each step.

“Shhh!” You hushed him, laughter bubbling up your throat.

“Come on, bunny.” Cregan laughed quietly, steering you straight to the kitchen, filling up a glass of water for you to drink.

You scrunched your nose at him, knowing you were drunk, but not wanting to sober up yet.

“Drink it all, Y/n. You need to sober up.”

“You need t-to sober up.” You quipped back, jumping up on the cabinets, your shoes hitting the doors loudly by accident.

“Shhh!” You hushed your own feet, grabbing the water and drinking it slowly, keeping your eyes on Cregan the entire time, who watched you in entertained exacerbation.

You placed the empty glass of water beside you, which Cregan filled to the top again.

“Cregaaan.” You purred, the Northerner lifting a brow at you, “Can you roll me a cigarette, please.” You pouted at him, trying to give him your best doe eyes.

Cregan shook his head, grabbing your small handbag to pull out your cigarettes, rolling you one neatly as he moved to open the window. You shimmied closer to the ledge, putting the cigarette to your lips as you lit it.

Blowing a ring of smoke out the window, you offered Cregan a drag, who took the smoke from your hands delicately.

“I can't believe Cerwyn offered to join us.” You guffawed, cheeks heating in both embarrassment and excitement.

Cregan blew the smoke out the window, handing the cigarette back to you, “I can. Cerwyn thinks you’re cute. Plus he knows all about our little agreement.” You giggled loudly, inhaling the sharp smoke into your lungs, “Why? Are you thinking about saying yes?”

You blushed, crossing your legs tightly, heat settling in your core, “I dunno. Cerwyn is cute.”

“He is.”

Your mouth dropped open, “Cregan Stark. Tell me more right now.”

Cregan took the smoke from your fingers bringing it to his lips as he smirked down at you, “I mean, I haven’t not thought about it. He's my best mate and I live with him. I've heard what goes on behind his closed doors. Besides, you beneath both of us, begging, sq-“

“Can you two be fucking quiet?”

Both of your heads snapped to a disgruntled Aemond Targaryen, who stood in the lounge room, hands by his sides in fists. He was in those grey sweatpants again, hanging low on his hips with no shirt on, hair on his head tangled and messed.

“I’m s-“ You began.

“-It’s three in the fucking morning. Have some respect.”

You stiffened, feeling anger begin to bloom in your chest, you opened your mouth to argue, to snap back at him, but Cregan stepped in front of you, blocking you from the other mans view.

“No problem, man. We'll be quieter.” Cregan’s voice was deep, stern, clipped, and left no room for argument. Though it was polite, it was rough, like the cold in the North, biting and sharp. A true Northerner through and through.

Cregan was silently hitting back without even doing it.

Aemond’s lips pursed into a hard line, turning on his heel to stomp back to his room, the door slamming shut behind him.

Cregan spun around to look at you, eyebrows lifted as he whistled lowly, pulling the smoke up to his lips to take a long drag.

“What the fuck?” You hissed quietly, “What is his problem?”

Cregan sighed, “It is 3am, bunny. I’m sure he just wants to sleep. It would have been a weird night for him.”

You frowned, annoyed that Cregan was acting so cool about Aemond’s outburst, “Why aren’t you angry?” You snatched the smoke from him, taking a final drag before you put it out on the brickwork outside.

"I'm not not angry."

You huffed in annoyance.

Cregan stepped forward, unhooking your legs to stand between them as his large hands skated up the outside of your thighs. He bent his head to look at you, your eyes refusing to meet his.

“Y/n." Cregan coaxed you softly.

You slowly turned your head to look at him, staring into his icy grey eyes.

“Do you like him?”

“What? No!” Immediately feeling defensive.

Cregan hushed you, shaking his head kindly, “It’s okay if you do. You’re not in trouble.”

You blanched, not sure of how to speak, words getting caught in the back of your throat.

Cregan stroked your cheek softly, soft smile on his lips, “Hey, this is casual, remember? Regardless of if we fuck or not, you’re still my friend, and I care about you and want you to be happy.”

Your heart pulled painfully, lips dropping down into a frown.

Cregan’s chest rumbled with a quiet laugh, “Don’t look at me like that.”

“You’re so sweet, Creg. What the fuck.”

Both hands rubbed warmly up and down your thighs in comfort, “You’re fluffing me up now.”

You shook your head, “I don’t understand. Why don’t I like you instead?”

Cregan gave you a sad smile and kissed the tip of your nose, “I used to ask myself the same question. But now I see it. We just don’t gel like that." He shrugged, and your chest pulled, "And honestly? I'm glad, because at the end of the day, no matter what happens between us, I know I'll still be able to call you mine in some way or another. Whether that be as my friend or my lover.”

You felt tears begin to build in your eyes, the betrayal of the prickling in the corners, causing your stomach turn, “I don’t get it. Why do I feel this way? He’s been nothing but horrible to me.”

“You’ve fucked him haven’t you?”

“No.” You said quietly.

His eyes roamed your face, knowing you far too well, “You've done something else.” Cregan guessed, watching the way your face fell further.

His back suddenly straightened, “Did he hurt you?”

“No! No, Gods no. Nothing like that.”

The Stark relaxed slightly, but you could still tell he was on guard.

“Does Helaena know?”

You looked away, fingers pulling at the threads of material on your thigh, “No. I’m scared. She’s my best friend, Cregan, and I feel like I’ve totally broken her trust and gone behind her back. She has so much going on right now, I just don’t know how I’m even supposed to broach that conversation. Like what do I do? ‘Hey Hel, your brother ate my pussy like a starved man and then immediately treated me like shit after.’”

“What did he do?”

You shook your head, “It doesn’t matter. He’s been nothing but a dick to me. It's not going to happen again.” You looked down into your lap, wringing your hands together as the feeling of being used washed over you again.

“If I know you, and I think I do, I can tell that it will happen again just by looking at you both.”

You scoffed, looking up at him in irritation.

“No, listen. There's clearly something going on between you two. Anyone with two eyes could see that. Maybe that's why he's not.”

“There's nothing-“

“-Cerwyn picked up on it immediately. Even Jace could see it.”

Oh.

Cregan's thumbs smoothed the skin of your thighs, the warmth of his body soaking into yours, “So what happened? Start from the beginning.”

And so you did, you started from the beginning, telling Cregan about the day he moved in, to your first kiss in the kitchen, all the way to the other night and how he had left you and was horrible right after a scene.

You watched as Cregan’s brows had become drawn at certain points in justifiable anger, the man always having been very protective over you, and at other times he gave you a scathing look, telling you that you had gone too far as well.

“So yeah, we haven’t spoken since, and I don’t think I want to. I just can’t see how he can be so cold to me when I've been nothing but kind to him.”

Cregan leant against the window, rolling the both of you another cigarette, trapping the smoke in his lips as he bent down to take off your shoes off as you began to swing your legs in agitation.

“He's a douchebag for sure," Cregan agreed, standing to his full height again, "And I really don’t see what you see in him.”

“See?? I think it's all hormonal or something. I don’t know. Ugh. But when he is nice, he is so lovely. And when he smiles it's this-”

You stopped yourself.

Oh gods.

You were deeper than you thought.

Why did you have a crush on this man???

Cregan smirked at you and you swatted him roughly, taking the smoke from between his lips to light it, taking a long and hard drag, feeling the smoke swirl down your throat thickly.

“I don’t know much about the man,” Cregan began, “But from what Jace and Luc have told me, I know he’s been through a lot. He didn’t get an easy run as a kid-“

“-It's not an excuse to be a dick.”

“-No its not an excuse, but it is an explanation. I know his dad wasn’t really there, and his mum was real tough on him. It didn’t help that everyone sided with Luc after the accident.“

“The accident? What do you mean?”

Cregan took a steady breath, taking the cigarette from you to take a sharp inhale, speaking as he exhaled, “Luc took his eye.”

“What?!” Your heart fell.

Cregan held up his hands, “No, not like that. It was an accident. Lucerys has never forgiven himself for it, hangs over the poor kids head like a storm. Aemond was ten, and Luc would have only been like five or six? They were both kids, and they were play fighting with wooden swords, some knights and dragon game they used to all play, but Lucerys had swung too high and too fast for Aemond to block it.”

Your stomach turned, and a chill ran through you, “Oh my gods.”

Cregan looked down sadly, shifting on his feet, “Yeah, its rough. Fucking horrible what happened, and then Alicent wanted to sue Lucerys for grievous bodily harm.”

“What the fuck? But he was just a kid? They were both kids! It was an accident!”

“I know right? Alicent started a fight right in front of Aemond at the hospital with Rhaenyra, got physical, everyone started screaming at each other when they all should have been comforting the poor kid who lost his damn eye. The family has been a mess ever since.”

It all made sense now.

The tension.

The disdain.

The law firm.

All of it.

Cregan handed you the smoke and also held the second glass of water to you, waiting for you to drink half of it, “I’m not telling you this to excuse his behaviour or make you pity him. I'm just trying to give you some perspective as to why he is the way he is. He’s had it rough, and from the sound of it, he doesn’t know how to open up or feel safe. The people that were supposed to protect him failed him, and I think that it really did change the way he is.”

You felt guilt.

Guilt for not knowing. Guilt for now knowing. Guilt for not being more understanding. But at the same time, you were not really at fault.

How were you to know?

“Fuck. I feel terrible.” You sighed.

“Don’t be. He was an ass to you. No excuses there.”

“I guess. I did rub his ex in his face.”

Cregan sucked in a hiss, “Poor form.”

You buried your face in your hands, “I know. But he just left me, straight after giving me one of the best orgasms of my life. It was horrible, Creg.”

“Best orgasm?” Cregan joked, and you sighed.

“Shut up. It was horrible. I've never felt so used before. It reminded me so much of Jason, I think it really triggered me. I cried myself to sleep after.”

Cregan stepped back between your legs, pulling you into a tight bear hug, in away that he always did, tucking your head beneath his chin and cradling you to his chest. You instantly felt safe, reassured, and loved.

And it was always how you felt around him.

“You’ll get through this, bunn.”

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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 1 year

Text

Breakfast mornings

Oneshot Summary; You wake up to a rainy September, not thinking the morning will end up with you and John finally defining your relationship.

Pairing: Cpt. John Price x reader (sunshine!universe)

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Onehsot

Word; 7k

Warnings; smut (please no minors only 18+), oral (m-receiving), implied age-gap

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: Did someone order lazy Sunday mornings with a hint of blowjob and my personal fucking kinks? No? Well, you get it anyways.🙃

SUNSHINE UNIVERSE MASTERLIST

The soft hazy ascend from sleep nudges you into the space between dreams and clarity.

You feel the covers around you first. The satiny material envelops your body, the underside warm and downy, the top cooler as it brushes against your cheek. The slight touch sends a rolling chill through your body and you snuggle further into the bedding.

You burrow your nose into the pillow you'd pressed flat during the night from your shifting. A deep exhale is heaved from your chest as you see the blackness your closed eyelids create.

You don't want to open them, so you don't, slowly letting your other senses catch up instead.

The warmth beneath the covers hasn't only accumulated during the night. You feel a great source of it not far from your body.

You shift closer to it, only then sensing how your bent leg is slung over someone else's. Next, you feel a weight upon your thigh. It's a warm hand, the owner's fingers spread wide over your skin in their relaxed state. It's a comfortable feeling. Likewise is the sensation of pressing up against the bed's other occupant.

One arm is bent beneath your pillow, while the other gets pressed between your naked breasts and the equally naked chest you nuzzle against.

Again, you inhale. This time not only getting a lungful of cotton, clean and something mild. There's the distinctive scent of skin, warm and alive. Permanently infused into the skin is a smokey fragrance, yet, it's not acrid and sour-tinged but dulled into a soft and sweet richness close to molasses.

You linger in that state, body languid and resting on the side, leg draped over and resting in-between someone else, face buried against the delicious warmth of the body besides your own.

You savour the moment of feeling, saving the near arduous task of cracking your eyes open for later. Imagining that if you put it off for long enough, the moment will never end and you can forever live in this little bubble.

There's a pitter-patter somewhere further away than your breath. Compared to your soft and warm breath fanning against your face as it bounces off the rhythmically slow moving of the chest you're pressed against, the rain sounds both soft and heavy. The rain douches the greenery surrounding the house in a not-so-gentle noise dulled down into a drone, whereas abrupt snaps of droplets hitting the roof and window sill make the metal sing.

There is no rumble, no flashes, simply a steady September downpour. Even though it's only the 20th, mother nature already teases about swiftly oncoming autumn. Even so, it paints the early morning in cool colours. If the moment was captured from an outsider's eyes, you believe the painting would receive the description 'desire to remain in bed'.

The slight twitch of the body you enjoy the presence of finally makes your eyes flutter open.

A blurry sight of white and beige is your immediate view before you blink and crane your head upwards, the covers slipping down from how you'd nearly wiggled beneath it from head to toe.

In the clarifying picture, brown is the next colour that bleeds into your vision. The shade takes the shape of hair dusted across the exposed chest in front of your face, thickening into a beard and sleep-mussed hair as your eyes travel upwards. Blue is now the only excluded colour of the painting the man beside you forms, his eyes still close, soundly asleep.

It wasn't often you found John like this, still sleeping. He was an early riser. Sometimes it bordered on ungodly hours, even for early birds. But now he rested on his back, the hand not having wandered to you during the night resting on his chest, his head relaxed and rolled to the side on his pillow.

From the times you'd awoken before him, you noted that no matter how he fell asleep, John often ended up on his back during the night, only to wake up on his side. More often than not, his unconscious shifts hinted at where in his slumber he was. And if it wasn't from his position, his regulated breathing told you he was still far from consciousness.

You worm your arm from in-between your bodies, settling it on John's upper stomach. It rises and falls with his deep breaths.

You follow the up-and-down movement, sensing the air sweeping down John's body at each exhale. Somewhere along the way, your fingers started trailing along the ridges of his abs and jut of ribs below his pectorals, the lines sculpting his upper body firm and slightly uneven from the white marks scattered about.

A sudden shift makes you stop, fingers hovering above John's skin.

Your eyes rise to his face. There's a slight frown as his head roll to the other side, away from you. You don't continue the movement as he shifts again, not wanting to wake him up.

While John had been home, he'd argued he didn't need to sleep in. His body had, apparently, gotten used to the hours his line of work made him go through. I'm used to it, he reassured you. But you didn't believe him, not one bit, still thinking that his body was regenerating from his deployment, no matter what he said. And considering you caught him sleeping longer than you a handful of times since he'd gotten home from the two-month-long deployment, you felt entitled to continue to think that.

Slowly, you ease your body away from John's, careful not to jostle him too much as you gradually slip away from his hold and from beneath the duvet. You don't bother pulling the cover up when you finally climb out of bed. Even if it rested low enough on his hip that the band of his boxers were visible and an ordinary person possibly would wake up from the coolness, he was a living heater.

You silently walk around the bed, seeing how you've slept on the side furthest away from the door.

Now when out of bed, you note the air isn't as cold as you first feared it would've been, just less warm than beneath the covers. So, on your way out of the bedroom, you opt for one of John's shirts thrown over the seat in the corner, picking out a pair of fluffy socks from your bag and balancing on one leg at a time to pull them on.

You're thankful that John keeps the hinges of his doors well-maintained. That way, you don't fear the door will creak when you push it open.

With a last look over your shoulder at the sleeping man, you smile as you slink out of the bedroom.

Making your way down the staircase, you try to step at the right places to give off as little sound as possible. Since his return from deployment two weeks ago, you'd probably spent an equal time at John's place and your flat. Hence, you were slowly learning which steps creaked in the stairs and where on the piece of wood would trigger the sound.

When hitting safe ground, you breathe out, waiting for a few beats to catch whether your descend had roused John. But, when nothing suggested such from above, you head into the kitchen.

As silently as possible, you move around in the space, wanting to prepare breakfast for when John wakes up.

You look in his fridge, finding it well equipped for the breakfast you had in mind but soon needed to be restocked for any other meals.

Taking out milk and butter, you close the fridge with your elbow before putting the ingredients on the counter. Heading to the cupboard where John keeps his dry ingredients, you locate the flour, bicarb soda and salt.

Scones felt like an easy thing to throw together in the morning without unnecessary bangs of pots or pans. And with the jam and cream cheese you'd noted in the fridge, it felt fitting enough for this rainy Sunday morning.

You put on the oven to preheat, its gentle hum joining the white noise from the rain outside. As you wait for the temperature to reach its desired degree, you fish out a tray, covering it in a sheet of baking paper. Then you fetch a bowl and wooden spoon to start mixing the ingredients.

You're stirring the batter when you feel the air behind you is disturbed. A second later, a warm, firm body press against your back, arms circling your mid-drift. You don't start, instantly recognising the haunced form of a man you're pulled into.

"You left". John's voice is rough, drawly from newly roused sleep and slightly muffled from how his face presses into the juncture of your neck.

"Didn't want to wake you", you hum, continuing to knead the sticky dough with the wooden spoon. "You should've slept in".

"Bed got cold". He kisses the skin at the base of your neck before sighing heavily, arms winding tighter around you.

You know that ain't the reason. Of the two of you, you've heard John complain more about being too warm. Something which, when in his house where AC didn't exist and he was too stubborn to buy a freestanding one, earned you him roaming the space shirtless. A sight you didn't complain about, really.

Still, you didn't press, knowing John had been under enough pressure as it was during his latest deployment. After meeting up with the others at the pub two weeks ago after he'd visited you, he'd finally started to adjust to being home. So you let him hold you, keeping you close as you finished the batter and reached for the tray you'd prepared previously.

Though John remained plastered to your back, he let you move enough to reach what you needed, smoothly following your motions. When the tray was in place and you'd gotten two spoons, you portion the batter in even piles giving you ten sticky balls in the end.

Finally turning, you're met by John's face right in front of yours as it remains hanging low. Unable not to, you peck his lips, parting from him with a smile.

"Will you let me put these in the oven?" You nod backwards towards the scones. A low hum and a tilt of his head was his initial reply.

John's eyes flittered over your features, a slow smile tugging the edge of his lips. He leaned down a notch, brushing his nose against yours. It was a slight nudge to tilt your head to the side so he could press a lingering kiss against your lips.

"Alright", he mumbled, stepping to the side.

Picking up the tray, you walk over to his oven. Having grown used to it, you effortlessly flick the safety off with the same hand you open the hatch with. With a quick push of the tray and click once the oven is closed, you set a timer for the scones.

When you turn around, your eyes immediately fall on John rather than hurrying into whatever next task you'd had in mind previously. His hip is cocked, resting against the counter, while his arms are loosely crossed over his chest.

John looks good like this, ruggedly soft. Though his hair isn't long enough to look like a mess from sleep, it still ruffles, sprouting in different directions than usual. His body is relaxed, shoulders dropped as low as they get and his back slouched just slightly, something you know will fade as his spine straightens throughout the day. He'd put on a pair of grey joggers and while you never considered the piece of clothing anything special despite people hyping it up, you now understood it.

You swallowed, eyes flittering over his form again, this time noticing the minor things.

The bulge of his bicep, the lines running on his forearm, the way his hands loosely grasp the flesh of his opposite arm. His chest, lacking the dog tags he stores in his bag once settling into the pace at home again, rises and falls evenly. The slight dip in-between his collarbones at the base of his throat gets more visible on each inhale, only to fade as he exhales.

Eyes trailing upwards, you're unable not to linger on his beard, the phantom touch from remembering how it felt carding through it last night making your fingers tingle.

You can't help yourself when you move towards John, hands immediately seeking his bare torso, running over the soft but marred skin above his waist.

You gently push at his side and John lets you move him to lean against the counter, lower back fully pressed into the edge. His arms unfold, allowing you to step in-between his feet and closer to his body.

You crane your neck to kiss him, the fleeting brush of your mouth against his travelling to his cheek. The brown strands covering John's angled jaw tickle your nose and lips. Continuing to the spot beneath his ear, you exhale lightly, blowing air at the shell of his ear, his shudder noticeable upon the action.

When you continue down his throat, John sighs, head notching backwards, letting you roam the space he grants you. His hands seek your hips, the gentle squeeze he gives them earning your attention while continuing down to his chest, hands gliding up and down his ribcage.

Your gaze travels upwards, meeting his. You see the questioning look in his eyes, but it gets erased when you start to crouch.

"Love…".

"Sush", you interrupt John. You see his eyes flash dark as you drop to your knees, maintaining eye-connect as you settle as comfortably as possible before him. Your legs are folded beneath you. Even so, your knees would probably take a hit from the wooden floor, but the moment was worth it.

You run your hands up and down his joggers until you balance on your knees, hands running up his stomach.

You'd never said it to John, but despite his ridiculously handsome face, something about his upper body, specifically his stomach, made something tick in the primal part of your brain. It was hard to concentrate when he was wandering around whichever space you shared bare-chested, and you caught yourself staring more times than you could count. And you decided to show him some of your undeniable attraction to this part of his body.

Trailing your hands in repeated up and down motions, you tease him with the scrape of your nails. His skin twitches and you feel the gentle rise of goosebumps beneath your fingers. As your hands trail lower, your card them through the slight trail of hair on his lower abdomen. His happy trail was another part you couldn't describe as anything but utterly delicious.

Unable to control yourself, you lean forwards, nuzzling against the slight strip of hair below his navel. A low groan pulls your eyes to him as you kiss upwards as far as you can reach on your knees, your hands continuing to press into the flexing muscles of his torso while he clutches the counter's edge.

Your gaze meets John's. His head has dropped forwards, chin resting against his chest, burning eyes set upon you. A smirk tugs your lips when you decide to haunch back on your heels before licking a broad stripe up the ridges of his abs, causing his eyelids to drop close and his hips to jut forwards.

"Fuckin' hell", John releases it as a breathless mumble, eyes remaining half-lidded when they open once again, intensely following you littering kisses along the prominent lines narrowing his abdomen and hips.

You tug slightly at his joggers, enough for the waistband to drop lower than the black boxers beneath. The new access enables you to follow his v-line even deeper until your tongue plays with a vein running further beneath his boxers.

John doesn't hurry you, doesn't take over himself. He lets you do as you please. Whether it's teasing the sensitive skin as you hike his boxers lower but not enough to set him free or drag your nails down his flexing abs. And you fucking revel in his slowly building pleasure.

It's palpable John wants to do something but holds off for your sake. His brows are pulled together. He occasionally forgets to unflex his hands when his grip grows too tight on the ledge, turning his knuckles white. A growing erection bulges the front of his joggers and boxers that you'd hiked as low as possible on his waist. Each time you trail your fingertips or lips against the soft skin above his base, he's unable to not to press forward into your touches and release a guttural noise.

Despite how much John notices you enjoy what you're doing, you catch his sigh of relief when you finally decide to hook your thumbs below both waistbands of his clothing.

Pulling down his joggers and boxers until they pool around his ankles, his cock bobs upwards, brushing his abdomen as its stands proudly erect before your face.

He's grown impossibly hard from your ministrations, twitching even upon the gentlest brush of your fingers against the skin of trimmed hair around the base you previously hadn't reached.

It's not hard to let spit pool in your hollowed tongue. You're practically drooling at the sight before you, the tip of John's cock flushed red and precum beading it. Your fingers close around his length and you let spit dribble down the tip of your tongue onto his tip. You smear the fluids together while you pump your hand up and down his length.

"What you do to a man, love". John's voice is hoarse but breathy.

You smile sweetly at him. "And what is that?" His answer is slightly delayed, his heavy gaze falling to follow how you slowly jerk him.

"Dropping to your knees as if it's nothing".

"Wanna treat you good, John". He groans, hips instinctively chasing your hand with a twitch.

"You're gonna be the death of me".

"Don't die on me now, old man", you cheekily wink at him.

He huffs at your tease, about to return something, but the words seem to die in his throat as you keep eye contact with him when leaning towards his cock. An electrifying buzz of anticipation fills the air a second before your tongue flicks out to lick his tip.

A husky sound is pressed from John's lungs, his stomach flexing upon your awaited touch. And you don't tease him for much longer, only giving the head of his cock small laps to let his taste fill your mouth. It's musky and something you only can associate with the tangy taste of sex.

"Just like that, love". The hand at the back of your head and the praise are instantaneous when you suck him into your mouth for the first time.

Your eyes remain locked with his as you keep him still inside you, tongue toying with the throbbing veins on the underside of his length. John's fingers twitch but don't do much more than intertwine with your hair.

As you suckle his tip and simultaneously swipe your tongue back and forth, his eyes finally close, head falling limply backwards, lips parting. You close your eyes soon after, starting to work up and down his cock.

His grunts become wordless praise as you enjoy feeling his heavy weight on your tongue. And when you hollow your cheeks, an even louder groan fills the air. The spit collecting in your mouth dribbles down his length, coating it in a slick sheen.

When you pull off him completely, you dip down, flattened tongue dragging along the ridges and veins on the underside of his cock. Your pink muscles swerve back and forth languidly before you reach his tip again. With a swirling motion, you pay attention to the head of his cock, occasionally suckling it as your hand picks up the jerking motion again.

"Such a pretty sight, eh?" John groans. Your eyes flutter open to look up. His head has dipped forwards and your gazes lock. You pull off him then, putting your tongue out to tap the head of his cock against your pink muscle. His curse is immediate. "Fuck".

Your smile up at him, playfully repeating the motion with pleasure still shining in your eyes, relishing how the ever-composed man looks impossibly dishevelled.

When you wrap your lips around him again, circling the tip with your tongue before hallowing your cheeks and bobbing your head, John's lips press into a thin line as his head tips back before releasing a guttural sound.

His groans border on growls as you eagerly drag your mouth up and down his cock, one hand stabilising yourself against his thigh as the other works the base of his cock with circular motions.

A slurping noise fills the air as you hollow your cheeks even further, tightening yourself around his cock. His hips jump slightly forward, pushing himself into your mouth again with a wet noise while you tease his tip. In return, you barely graze your teeth on the underside of his length.

"Mind ya teeth", he mutters, rich voice thickened from pleasure.

Though you do as he says, John's unable to hide how you'd felt him twitch and throb violently against your tongue from the action he chastised. You hum in return, the vibrations a wordless half-assed apology that makes him groan, hand tightening the grip on the back of your head, tugging the smallest amount on your hair.

A rhythmic wet sound follows each up-and-down movement of your head.

As you flatten your tongue against the underside of his warm flesh, you feel his pulse against you as you push down on his cock. When you retreat, you tense your tongue into a firm point, moving it back and forth in swift motions against the underside of his head. He's leaking into your mouth, and you hum at the sensation and his taste.

You twist your head, taking more of him into your mouth, enough for him to brush the back of your throat. And when he rests as deep in your mouth that remains comfortable, you tighten your lips, putting pressure a few inches from his base as your hand jerk what you can't fit with a twisting motion.

He shudders, muscles in his thighs clenching as his legs quiver. You feel how he holds himself back, the grip on the back of your head tightening, a rut of his hip that would've driven himself deeper if he hadn't cut it short.

"Love-". John's vibrating baritone rolls unevenly from his lips as you pull back, letting your tongue toy with his tip, swirling the top of his cock with exaggerated movements. "Need to- fuck. Need more of your mouth, can I?"

You know what he asks for. So, you answer his question by sucking him into your mouth again, letting your hand drop from his base to his thigh as you settle down on your legs.

Your eyes flutter close, anticipation rising when his other hand joins the back of your head, gathering your response as a silent yes concerning you didn't pull off of him completely.

John's fingers span wide as he adjusts his grip from your slightly more dropped positioning, pinkies now brushing where the base of your skull meets your neck.

The first pull of your head forwards stops about halfway down his cock. The second makes his tip brush the back of your throat, still a comfortable sensation as it doesn't push him further than you previously had. And then he tugs you as far as your mouth lets him, earning you a swift tap against the back of your throat.

You breathe through your nose to suppress the swift tightening of your throat. Although, when John repeats the movement and now with a roll of his hips, you can't suppress the gag.

Even if it's your body's attempt at rejecting the foreign feeling, there's something erotic about your involuntary reaction when it makes John's cock twitch and a moan spill from his lips. Still, he pulls back slightly, enough for you to regain your composure, before keeping your head still as he slowly moves again.

He thrusts slowly back and forth a few times before he stills. "Deep breath", John groans, only his tip resting against your tongue.

You do as he says, taking a deep breath through your nose. Soon afterwards, he gradually pushes himself back into your mouth.

It's unhurried, but you realise why when John pushes as deep as he can before coming to a halt upon feeling your throat constrict, preparing for a gag if he went any further.

There's not much of his cock that you can't take, only an inch or so at the base. But fuck, you want all of him.

So, you try, tongue playing with the underside of his shaft as you force yourself forward, further than John's hands keep you still. But, your throat constricts in a near fluttering pattern as you repeatedly gag, shoulders bunching and one of your hands tightening into fisting your thumb on John's thigh as you try to quell the reaction.

"Easy, girl", John grunts from above. His grip tightens for just a moment as your head is pulled backwards.

In an instant, he pulls out of your mouth. You pant, his spit-covered cock only connecting to your lips by a string of saliva. Your eyes seek his within seconds and he looks positively drunk when his lust-filled eyes meet yours.

"Doin' so good for me", he massages your scalp with one hand as the other drops from your hair, wiping away the sole tear that had accumulated from your watery lashline. You didn't even notice the wetness that gathered there until now. "Even so, I know you want something, but I'm no mind reader, love. Speak up". You wet your lips, tasting him on your tongue as you break the line of spit connecting you to him.

"Want all of you. Want you to take what you want".

John cocks his head. You can see his mind working behind those blues, whatever thoughts nesting in his eyes darkening them considerably.

The hand on your cheek falls to your chin, angling your head even further backwards as his gaze pins you in place.

"I want to fuck your mouth. I'll be gentle", John husks. "You want me to?"

"God, yes". He hums low and far back in his throat at the flicker of your eyes from his to the cock not far from your face.

"Don't push yourself too much", he remarks lowly but without harshness.

Your eyes flicker back to his again, noticing the warmth in nestling there. "Okay".

"Let me set the pace", he begins, gripping your hand resting on his thigh and pulling it to the inside of his hipbone. "Press here once if you're doin' good and twice if it gets too much". He forces your thumb against the soft flesh and you see him twitch slightly from the action. A sensitive spot, then.

"Yes", you pant.

"Eager for this early in the mornin', eh?"

"Want to make you feel good". There's a mumbled curse beneath John's breath.

He grips his length. Instinctively, you open your mouth, sticking out your tongue.

It feels entirely different when he taps his cock against your tongue compared to when you did it previously. It makes lightning zip down your spine as your stomach makes a somersault before the fluttering feeling travels down, down.

Your body thrums when he finally starts sliding into your mouth again, gently urging your head forward with the hand resting at the back of your head.

"Come on, love, relax for me", John groans as he moves his hips.

You try, you really try, but it doesn't feel natural. John's bigger than any partner you'd had before him and they'd been around or just below average size. So, despite giving him a blowjob previously, you'd only ever taken him shy of the base.

You whine, and the sound comes out garbled as John teases the back of your throat. Though he groans at the added sensation, he understands.

"You wet?" You hadn't thought about yourself, so focused on pleasing John. But, upon the question, you suddenly feel your clit throbbing, the way your thin panties stuck to you, almost rubbing against your core from how you rest on your legs. You wiggle, trying to see if you could grind against yourself, but you don't find a good angle.

Even if you highly doubt John didn't see your attempt at pleasuring yourself, you still moan in reply to his question.

"Then touch yourself for me", he instructs and you obey.

You relent the grip on his thigh to let your hand fall between your legs, pushing your underwear to the side. You seek your clit immediately, almost jolting from the sensitivity you hadn't noticed built up. The moan bubbling up in your throat is distorted as John's hand joins the one already resting at the back of your head and pushes into your mouth again.

With circular motions over your neglected bundle of nerves, a furrow enters your brows, eyes dropping close. The warm tingle of building pleasure makes you shudder, your body melting towards John's legs.

Your fingers resting on his hip digs into his flesh, nails biting into the skin at his back as you try to mind your thumb, when a dual pleasure course through your body. It feels good. You feel good. You're working your clit just how you like while having the heavy feeling of John on your tongue and his presence above you.

You notice when he pushes into your mouth but doesn't do much about it compared to focusing on the pleasure. He slides deep, deeper and even deeper as he finds some space he hadn't before.

Your eyes shoot open, your vision encased mostly by his lower abdomen before you look upwards, realising you'd taken him to the hilt.

"Fuck, s'good f'me, s'good", he groans, accent thickening, but he doesn't forget about you. "You good, love?" One firm press into the place he'd directed you to is your answer.

John moans as he starts moving slowly, you both getting used to the new sensation. It still feels odd, alien and you occasionally gag, but now John can bottom out.

If the way your fingers alternate between your clit and entering your dripping hole isn't enough to make you relax, the mere thought of taking him all the way overwhelms your neurones with a dopamine rush.

You fall into the rhythm of breathing when you can. And once you feel as comfortable as possible with the new sensation, you hollow your cheeks again. A guttural moan escapes John as he drives his hips a bit faster, the wet sounds from your pussy and slurping from your lips making your thighs quiver and clench together as you feel him twitch on your tongue.

You sense how John moves then, feeling his presence close in as he haunches over you, stomach brushing the top of your head as your face nestles close to his groin. You feel the fine hairs brush against your nose and the heavy weight of his cock in your mouth and the upper part of your throat as he grinds into you.

Your eyes are closed. Even so, it feels like they roll into your skull. Everything is so overwhelming but so fucking heavenly that oxytocin is pumped through your system.

When you catch the breathed 'fuck, I'm gonna cum' from above, you don't even consider pulling away from John, the hand on his hip giving a swift single press before travelling to the back of his thigh, clutching. His fingers twitch in your hair, hips making an uneven stutter before you feel him jerk inside your mouth.

Even though he's still bent over you and your face brushes his lower stomach and crotch. John has pulled back just slightly, making it easier for you to prepare for his orgasm, mindful to not spill straight into your already fluttering throat.

He spurts against your tongue, the tangy and salty taste intensifying as he comes.

You swallow until you feel him stop filling your mouth and that's when your fingers quicken their movement over your clit. Your head is airy, your body moving on auto-pilot as you feel a tingle beginning in the back of your neck and, with lightning speed, reach your stomach and core.

You can't even think when you cum. Only able to notice that John's looming presence disappears as he must straighten and pulls out of your mouth, enabling your moan to fill the air when you reach your high.

It's quick, bright, your orgasm striking like lightning as your head snaps forward. Your pitched voice trails off into a pleased hum and it takes a few seconds for your heart to steady until you notice your breath is fanning back against your face.

"Love", his soft call makes your eyes flutter open, eyelids still heavy as you angle your head upwards. Seemingly, you'd slumped forwards, your face pressed against his thigh.

You catch a sheen across his forehead as you smile up at him. John's features are soft in a completely different way than before. Previously, it had been thanks to sleep, while now it's post-orgasmic. "All good?"

You nod, voice nor tongue collaborating at the moment, still processing what just went down. As your eyes flutter close for a few seconds, you rest your head against John's thigh. You release an airy sigh, returning to yourself quicker thanks to one of his hands stroking your head.

When you finally blink away the grogginess, you reach toward the boxers resting around his ankles, pulling them up over his hips and soft cock, giving him some sense of modesty. You imagine he'll like to clean up either way. John follows your action by stepping out of his joggers, discarding them in a heap on the floor as he loops his hands beneath your arms, helping you into a standing position once more.

Your knees pop, so instinctively, you stretch your legs to rid yourself of the odd feeling of numbness when on your feet again.

"Should've thought of gettin' you a pillow or somethin'". You glance at John, his eyes just retreating from being cast own, following your action.

"Because that would've added to the mood of an impromptu blowjob". You roll your eyes playfully, but they return to John with a gentle look upon his chuckle. "Besides, it's gonna be fine, just sore knees for now".

You step toward him, arms finding their natural position around his neck. Meanwhile, John's hands slip down to rest on your hips.

"Mine would've gone long ago". This time, you chuckle, shaking your head.

There's a slight pause when your gazes lock again. It's intimate, slow, as you still feel smiley from your orgasm and John's.

You don't know who of you moved closer and initiated the kiss, but from the feeling in the air, it was a gradual act from both sides.

You both hear and feel the groan that leaves John at what must be the mixed taste of you and him on your tongue. Even so, he doesn't shy from deepening the kiss further.

It doesn't go on for long, the make-out slow from the beginning until it lessens in pace until your lips only brush against one another, foreheads connecting.

"How do you feel?" He mumbles, checking in again.

"Good", your breath out, voice hitching and getting a little croaky halfway through the syllable, making the both of you smile. You clear your throat before continuing. "Maybe gonna be a bit sore but really good. You?"

John chuckles at your reply, leaning away slightly. Your arms fall to his chest and one of his hands comes to your cheek, caressing your cheekbone.

"Can't complain when you treat me to this fuckin' mornin'". The humour is soft. You can't help the giggle slipping past your lips. "Wasn't how I planned it to go, though".

You cock your head, thumbs continuing their aimless brush against his skin. "And you had the morning planned?"

"Yes, and it didn't include gettin' greeted with you cookin' breakfast and then this pretty little mouth", he muses, tapping your lower lip with his thumb once.

"No? So what were the Captain's plans then?" You amusedly tilt your head.

John hums before he speaks. "I'd planned to take it slow, lay in bed for a bit".

"And that's something your jittery self can do?" You bite your lip, arching a brow at John. You suppose it's his line of work which made him unable to sleep in and spend too much of his mornings in bed. Even though the couch apparently went under different regulations.

John rolls his eyes, jokingly pinching your side, eliciting a gasp and jolt away from the sensation. Your reaction made him chuckle before settling his hand on your waist with a comforting squeeze.

"You know I enjoy a book in the morning as long as you're snuggled into my side".

"Sounding an awful lot like you complain about not getting a Sunday cuddle". You smile up at John, receiving a shrug and half-smile in return.

"Never sayin' no to cuddlin' with you, love".

"Fine", you relent with a peck to his lips. "What else would your perfect little morning have entailed?"

"I would've cooked you somethin', makin' you sit right there-". You presume the finger lifted from the side of your face, directed at something behind you, points towards the kitchen island and one of its seats. "-with that favourite morning drink of yours. Lettin' me take care of you".

"And here I come, robbing you of your delightful plan".

"Mhm, takin' as good care of me as I want to do with you, eh?"

"You know it". John brushes his thumb over your cheek once his pointer rests along your jawline again.

His blue eyes flicker between yours before he speaks, a faint smile curling his lips upwards. "Don't know what I've done to deserve you, love".

"Being yourself is quite enough".

He ducks his head, kissing you. Your eyes flutter close at the warm feeling, soothing everything in your body that already feels like it's on the brink of melting. Somehow it feels different, just slightly. You can't put your finger on what, but it makes a peacefulness settle.

When you part, you don't open your eyes, your face remaining close to John's. You feel his heat, his presence lingering just out of reach. Your fingers drag over the side of his chest, repeated unconscious movements.

"Do you know what else I would've done?" He speaks lowly against your lips.

"M'no".

"Asked whether we should make this exclusive or not".

You smile, lips parting. But, just as you're about to speak, you stall, brain catching up with what John just said.

Your eyes shoot open, leaning away just slightly, watching as his eyes open to follow you. "What would you've asked me?"

The fingers upon his chest cease their movement as your brows arched high on your forehead, lips remaining parted even after you'd asked the question.

"How you felt about this, us, takin' the next step, being exclusive?" He repeats the question calmly. Even though he follows you with a lighthearted expression, John's eyes alternate between yours, searching them closely.

"You're asking me to be your girlfriend?"

"If you still want me to despite it being less romantic havin' the conversation after you went down on me, then yes", he says with a tug in the corner of his lip and a shrug off his shoulder. He's bashful about the circumstances.

You hope to erase that as you immediately drag him down for a kiss, one causing a surprised sound to leave John before the press of lips gets broken off by your grin and his chuckle.

"It's a definite yes if it wasn't clear".

"Could've gathered", he grins. And just as if the timer for the scones had waited for your shared moment to be over, it chimed.

Your head swivels towards the oven, but you only leave John's arms after facing him again with a big smile and a swift kiss.

While you pluck the oven mitts from the counter and shut off the timer, you notice John bends down to snag his jogger from the floor. The smile is still etched into his features.

"M'gonna go change, freshen up, then I can help you", he says as you open the oven door, the smell of scones filling the air within seconds. You inspect the ten buns, thankful they hadn't burnt to crisps when your attention had been utterly focused upon John, forgetting to check them halfway through their baking time.

"Do so, even if there ain't much more to do", you respond as you shut off the oven, turning with the hot tray in your grasp to place on the cork-pad you'd prepared earlier. "I need to do the same afterwards". As you pull off the heat-protecting mitts, you catch how John's eyes flicker down and back up.

"Don't get any ideas now", you warned, but that only made creases form in the crease of his eyes.

"Only would've offered to share a shower". John stepped towards you, fingers toy with the edge of his borrowed shirt. Much like his joggers, it was the only other piece of clothing not ruined on your body.

"You know these will turn cold before we're done". You lightly tried to smack John's hand away, but he was quicker than you, fisting the excess fabric by your thighs and tugging you towards him.

You stepped into his firm chest, head tilting backwards as his chin dipped.

"Didn't imply anything should happen. I only want to care for my girl like she does with me". Your heart fluttered enough for you to worry just slightly and you couldn't help how you ducked your head, repressing the urge to do a happy dance from the burst of feelings swelling in your chest.

But John would have none of it, as his finger hooked beneath your chin, effectively making you face him again.

"Growing shy after giving me your dirtiest and most mind-blowing blow job yet?" Your lips parted in a shocked gasp before a grin spread on your lips. The amusement in those blues was evident, showing John knew very well his words affected you like this and nothing else.

"Jog on". You smile through the whole sentence, earning a chuckle from John and a quick press of his lips to yours before he heads back up to his bedroom.

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