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thekinslayed · 9 months ago

Text

Play Your Hand

summary | When Aemond the Kinslayer descends upon Harrenhal, a dazzling prize awaited him— the widow of Harwin Strong.

pairing | aemond targaryen x noblewoman!reader

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! unprotected sex, riiide cowgirl, slight age gap (reader is in her early 30s, aemond is 20), titty sucking, praise kink, mommy kink, manipulation, reader plays the game, girls looking out for girls <3

wordcount | 5.8k

note | the top voted (by 0.6% lol) from the little poll yesterday :) still not feeling super satisfied w my writing rn, but hopefully this will get the brain juices flowing again!

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

(divider graphic is from this website)

“You must go! Into the forests, he will not find you there. Run and never look back!”

Aemond was dreaming, or at least it felt like he was. He knew not when he had found sleep, but it had taken many minutes of twisting and turning before his mind descended into slumber.

He was still in Harrenhal, he could still hear the rain. No, he was in the king’s chambers now. It was hazy, specks of dust flying about. Behind the carved wood that separated the bedchamber, he could hear Aegon’s laughter echoing through the apartments. It was mocking him, pinching at some unknown part of Aemond that filled him with rage.

“Did you fuck her like a hound?” he heard the elder say. Gritting his teeth, Aemond unsheathed his sword, bursting through the door. What greeted him, however, was not Aegon, but what remained of him. Lying on the vast feather mattress was a blackened corpse, burnt almost to the point of crumbling into ashes.

Aemond faltered, stumbling back in shock. A cold shiver licked down his spine, making him shiver. It was then he heard a whisper. “This was of your doing.” Helaena. His head whipped around in search of his sister, but she was nowhere to be found. He searched frantically around the chambers, calling out her name. “We are all dead because of you,” she whispered again. Aemond returned to the bedchamber, where he now found Jaehaerys. He looked so peaceful, cheeks plump with the innocence of youth, save for the black thread that kept his severed head to his body.

No… not him.

His breath was starting to come out short, chest heaving. It was then he found her, standing on the windowsill. A black veil covered her pale face, one for mourning. Aemond held out a hand to reach for her, to feel her warmth in his cold palm. “Hel…” he had whispered, but it was too late. She had fallen backward, to her death, to the unknown.

Aemond was in a forest now. Standing barefoot, clad in the nightwear he had thrown on. There seemed to be no soul except for him, and the owl that stared at him from a tree. In a blink, a flurry of two shadows passed him. A woman and a child were running away. From what? He did not know. The prince started to follow them, breaking out into a sprint. The soil was soft underneath his feet, and the leaves were damp from the rain.

“Mama!” he heard the child scream. A boy. He looked to be no older than ten years of age, his height similar to his when he had claimed Vhagar.

“Come, my sweet boy,” the woman said, her voice floating to Aemond’s ears like a sweet melody. It was cut by the loud shriek that pierced through the air, unmistakenly that of a dragon. The prince paused in his steps, letting the figures disappear into the woods. A great shadow enveloped him, and he looked up to the sky to see a massive green creature pass. Vhagar. He watched as she rained fire onto Harrenhal, his senses slowly being filled with smoke.

With a gasp, Aemond jumped into consciousness.

It was still dark, it seemed, and he was not in his nightwear at all. In fact, he was still in his riding leathers. Opposite him, Cole looked at him in confusion.

“Is everything alright, my prince?” he asked.

“We have not killed all of the Strongs,” Aemond replied. The Hand looked at him like he had grown back his second eye, confused by such sudden information. “A woman and her child remain hidden in the woods. I want them brought to me, alive.”

You had been running for hours. Dawn was only starting to break through the horizons, the sun making itself known with streaks of orange painting the sky. You had nothing to keep you alive, save for the clothes on your back and the dagger Alys had slipped into your hand before pushing you out. You did not know where these forests lead to, or if you were getting anywhere at all. All you knew was staying in that cursed castle would have put you and your son to the sword.

“Mama,” he mumbled, snuggling in closer to your warmth. You had sought a temporary refuge in a small rock structure that could almost resemble a cave. Your sweet boy had been frightened, had kept his hand tight in your grip as you took him farther and farther.

“We must make haste, my darling,” you urged him. Both of you were weary, unfit to fight off what evil lurked in the woods. There was a good distance between you and Harrenhal now, filling you with hope that you were almost in the clear.

It was quiet at this hour, save for the early squawks of crows above you. The ominous darkness of the castle was only beginning to fade, making room for light and warmth. With a kiss on your boy’s cheek, you took his hand and walked out into the sun. The sun’s kiss would have comforted you, if it weren’t for the cold, sharp blade on your neck that greeted you upon your exit.

What happened next was nothing but a panicked blur. You heard your son yell for you, you remembered fighting against hard armor before a sting bloomed on the side of your head. It rendered you incapable of brandishing the dagger in your pockets.

Fear and dread grew in your chest as the ominous sight of Harrenhal greeted you once more. You prayed to the gods, or whoever it was in the skies that gave you such fate, to grant you a death that would hopefully be kind. You prayed that your boy would not hurt for too long, that he shall not suffer in their hands. A hopeless effort, it would seem.

Once you had passed through the gates, things moved swiftly. Your arms remained tied behind your back, and the men had pushed you briskly through the dilapidated halls. “The prince regent awaits, lady,” they had grumbled, before snickering. You squeezed your eyes shut, tuning out their lewd, salacious remarks on what to do with you once the dragon prince learned that he would have no use for you. The weight of the dagger in your pocket was the only thing that grounded you, had reminded you of what can still be done.

The castle’s interior was damp, and it was hot in certain corners while cold in the shadows. Rain dripped through the cracked ceilings, the icy cold droplets a sharp shock to your senses. It reminded you of where you were, of where you were led to.

In the great hall, two figures awaited you. One was clad in shiny armor, olive-skinned, and shorn dark locks. Criston Cole.

You remembered him from your time in court. His handsome, Dornish features made quite an impression on your fellow noble ladies then. He looked much older now, with twinkling specks of gray littered in his beard. Beside him, a silver-haired Targaryen stood tall, menacing. With his back turned, he reminded you of a younger Daemon, though even the rogue prince did not emanate such darkness, one that greatly suited the shadows of this castle.

He looked at you down the tip of his nose when you were pushed to your knees, like shit underneath his boots. “You are no Strong,” he said, before turning to your boy. His smaller frame trembled beside you, and you wished to be broken free of this rope so you may hold him instead. Prince Aemond’s sword was unsheathed with swiftness, raised high above his head. Your eyes widened, your body thrashing against the guard’s grip.

“No, no! I beg of you, my prince!” you wailed. “Spare my son, I beg. He is only a boy! Take me instead, please!”

Hearing your plea, the prince paused. He lowered his sword, moving to stand in front of you once more. Frantic eyes looked at him, then at the Hand.

A glimmer of hope sparked in your chest as his brown orbs flickered with recognition. The prince may not recognize you, but Cole did. His gloved hand held onto Aemond’s bicep, leaning to speak into his ear.

“My prince,” he whispered. “That is Harwin Strong’s ladywife.”

Aemond allowed himself to get a good look at you. He remembered you now, though very vaguely. You were a lady of a smaller house in the Riverlands, ordered to wed Breakbones some time after Lucerys was born. Your marriage was a sham, it was evident from the start. He was there for your wedding in the Sept, stood beside his mother as you took your vows before the Seven. You were a girl of six and ten then, barely a woman, tear-brimmed eyes wide like a doe. When Ser Harwin died in the fire, it was said you had perished along with him. Some told you had set the fire yourself, as a means of revenge after your husband’s affair tainted your good name.

“Your husband has caused us many problems. I would even dare say he’s played a hand in this war, even from beyond the grave,” he said bitterly, watching as your lips quivered into a frown. “Tell me, why should I spare you?”

“We are naught but prisoners of this castle. My son has been robbed of his inheritance, his life constantly threatened by his own kin. We hold no loyalty to house Strong, especially not to Larys the Clubfoot.” At your words, a dark chuckle had rumbled from the prince regent’s chest. Fuck. Perhaps you shouldn’t have been so bold. You’ve forgotten that Larys sat on the king’s council, a steadfast ally of the crown. You desperately tried to gauge his reaction, his thoughts, but the prince was a hardened wall. “Spare our lives, my prince, and we will be indebted to you. We will serve you most humbly, and we will do anything you ask for.”

An interesting prospect.

Your son looked too much like his nephews, like Harwin. He would have sent his head rolling to the floor with his sword, but you had begged so sweetly for him on your knees. Aemond saw the change in your eyes, from a quivering fear to something ignited by fire. It intrigued him. It was no question that you were quite easy to the eye, with your womanly form and pleasing face. Aemond would find some good use of you. Perhaps it was high time for him to claim his spoils of war.

Alys was laden with worry. She thought the younger Targaryen would be easier to handle than his rogue uncle, but she was mistaken. From the moment he descended on his war dragon, the Rivers woman knew this man would not be so kind. She had sent you fleeing in haste before you and your boy were put to the sword. Alys had the means to handle him, no man had ever been strong enough to fight against her visions. However, her fears for your wellbeing had bled through what should have been a dream to make the young Targaryen quiver in his sheets. This was her fault. He was not meant to see you in the forests. The moment she had heard you were spared, she rushed to see you, checking for any wounds. She saw none.

In the days that followed, the prince regent had requested you to attend to him personally. There was a lack of servants in Harrenhal now, all fallen to Aemond’s sword upon his arrival. Alys remained the healer, formulating poultices and medications for the injured bannerman in the encampment outside the gates, while your son was made the regent’s squire, tasked with reading letters sent by raven and pouring his wine.

When the night grew dark, you were called to the prince’s chambers. You warmed his bed, let him manhandle you into any position he wanted. The prince was young, with loins filled with fire that could not be quenched by his fist alone. You worked hard to please him, using more than just your cunny to drive him to his release. You did a whore’s work.

It was a heavy insult to your noble standing, but you had no other choice. You had weighed your options as you kneeled before him, had chosen your poison. To have your life spared would not mean you will be free, but only given away to be played in another man’s hands. Death was starting to sound better, a blissful end to years of struggle. You almost reached for it, selfishly so.

Oh, but your boy. He had his whole life ahead of him, a life you dared not rob for the sake of your own.

The first night had you leaving his chambers feeling the filthiest you had ever been, cursing yourself for sullying your own body. The second night was better, and then in the days that followed, it was routine to find yourself heading up the steps that lead to the prince’s chambers. Alys always had moon tea ready for you, along with minty, soothing balms to soothe the aches in your muscles.

Tonight was no different. The sun had set barely an hour ago, and you were relieved from your duties while the prince supped with the Hand. You were watching Alys make her brew after having come from the prince’s chambers, massaging the sore spot in your thighs. The prince’s blood was running rather hot as of late, taking you as early as mid-afternoon at times and then again later at night.

“You know I could slip something in his wine to knock him out, right?” Alys mentioned, busied with grinding mint leaves in her mortar.

“That would only anger him come morning, I fear,” you replied, chewing on the apple she had plucked for you. Your friend scoffed, shaking her head at you.

“Oh, he is but a boy. These Targaryens think themselves high and mighty with their dragons, but within these walls, they quiver and wet their pants in fear. You’ve seen how Daemon acted while he was here,” she said, smirking in amusement. You giggled at her words, slapping a hand over your mouth at the memory. The witchy woman had her fun with the rogue prince, sending him jarring visions of his niece-wife to spook him. It was rather laughable watching the high and mighty prince of Flea Bottom walk around these halls, swinging his sword at shadows in paranoia.

You had advised Alys not to do the same with Aemond, however. The younger prince was more brash and quicker to anger. To have his sense of control over his consciousness played about would only have you suffering under his wrath.

“He is quite different from Daemon,” you said, sighing. Alys dribbled some honey into your moon tea, before stirring the small cauldron. It didn’t take long before the steaming cup was placed before you, its pearly white liquid almost glimmering from the fires lit about. “It isn’t so bad, you know.”

The Rivers woman’s brows raised at your words, looking at you with a warning look. “Don’t tell me you’ve become besotted with him now.”

“Gods, no! I am just saying it could be worse. He is still rather pliable,” you made known, sharing a look of understanding with your fellow woman. If there was one thing you both understood, it was that men greatly relished in the thought of being superior. Obedience from a woman made them feel more important, more powerful… needed. You made a great effort to make Aemond feel wanted and appreciated— smiling at him coquettishly as you brushed his hair, flattered him with flowery words that made his chest swell with an egotistic pride, and moaning ever so sweetly for him as he pounded into your cunt. It was evident that he relished in all of them, like a lovesick boy who yearned for every ounce of attention. At first, the whole ordeal felt entirely transactional, filled with mindless humping just for the sake of his pleasure. In time, he had shown his interest beyond something physical, seeking more than just the warmth of your embrace.

“Tell me about your marriage,” Aemond had asked you one night, curled into your bosom. The question took you by surprise, as did his sudden interest in your past. You pondered on what to say, hand mindlessly rubbing his muscled bicep.

“Quite brief, as you may know, and all too confusing. I was placed in the middle of chaos, thrown into the deep end without any help to navigate it,” you admitted. He hummed, though said naught else, patiently waiting for you to continue. “Harwin was never harsh, or cruel, he was simply… there. He was nice when he was around, courteous, A man of good breeding.”

A scoff from the dragonrider on your chest made you chuckle, urging you to nuzzle your nose into his hair. “A man of good breeding does not forge an affair with married women, birthing obvious bastards, nor does he throw away his beautiful wife to continue said affair.” The starlit strands wisped as you huffed a low laugh. Aemond had rolled to his back, pulling you to lay on his chest. The pale flesh was warm under your cheek, blood still running hot from the aftermath of your tryst.

“It took me some time, but I knew I would never win his affections. I have your sister to thank for that,” you admitted, a hint of bitterness coloring your tone. You played with the ends of his soft strands, mindlessly rubbing between your fingers. “He’s been dead longer than he was my husband, but I’ve found it does not bother me much. He scarcely felt mine.”

“You will never be treated that way again,” he vowed, sealing his promise with a kiss on your wrist. His good eye held nothing but honesty, one that had almost struck your chest with guilt. He would have to forgive you for exploiting what was left of the softness in his barely beating heart.

This vulnerability showed its face to you at times. Some nights, he would do naught but lay in your lap, spilling fragments of the years spent being an outcast in his own family. Undeniably, it would tug at your heartstrings. You would take him into your arms, let him suckle on your teats, as though he were a teething babe, while his hips rutted against your thigh. It should appall you, but you knew this could work to your advantage.

Alys’s lips mirrored your smirk, nodding at your unspoken plan. “You’ve always been a smart one,” she grinned.

“Well, you’ve taught me much.” It was the truth. When you first came to Harrenhal, you were a quivering little lamb, half round with child. Harwin didn’t seem to care much for you, letting you wander on your own. You had blindly made your way into Alys’ kitchen, where she had offered you tea. It was then she had taken you under her wing, had escaped with you before Larys’ men even lit the torch that would kill your husband. You owed her much, you owed her yours and your son’s lives.

Light conversation and laughter flowed between the two of you, but it was interrupted by a rushing knight, who barged into the kitchens. “The prince summons you, my lady,” he had said, with frantic eyes that displayed the need for urgency. You left Alys in haste, forgetting the now cold moon tea that sat untouched.

You rushed through the halls, and up the stairs to find your son, trembling, standing beside Cole outside Aemond’s chambers. Worry began to fill you as you approached him, turning his head to look for any signs of harm. “Are you hurt, my boy?” you asked, concerned. He shook his head, though his wide eyes displayed the fear that was shaking his poor heart. You turned to Criston, who had cleared his throat to call your attention.

“The prince regent has received a letter delivering displeasing news. He is not in good spirits this evening, my lady. I trust upon you to calm his nerves so we may proceed with him… level-headed,” the Hand said, leaning to whisper into your ear without your son hearing. You nodded in understanding, before turning to your son once more. You cupped his face to plant a kiss on his cheek, caressing the plump flesh affectionately.

“Stay with Alys, alright? Do not wander anywhere else,” you ordered, leaving him a stern, motherly look.

As you slipped past the door to the regent’s chambers, you made sure to shrug your collar a little lower, straightening your posture to push your breasts forward. You were still a little sore between the thighs, but you would have to manage. It was damp with his spend from earlier in the day as well. He would enjoy that.

Your captor was hunched over the desk when you entered, back turned to you. A piece of parchment was crumpled in his fist, no doubt bringing the news that brought on his ire.

“My prince,” you said quietly, letting your presence be known. “What has happened?” His shoulder sagged ever so slightly, before lifting the hand that held the letter in its grasp. He motioned for you to take it.

You obeyed, brushing your soft fingers over his. What you read made your stomach drop. It was a letter from his mother written in haste, evident from the sprawling handwriting that you assumed was unlikely for the Dowager Queen to have.

The Blacks have taken King’s Landing. Rhaenyra and Daemon have Alicent and Helaena in chains.

A sudden cold licked at your spine, sending down a shiver. It was undoubtedly worse than you thought. You moved to squeeze his visibly tense shoulder, but you hesitated. The rage emanating from his body was enough to burn you, and had you keeping a careful distance between the two of you.

“I have been a fool,” Aemond spoke up, turning to face you. His jaw was clenched tight, any more tighter and his teeth would definitely crack. He let out a deep breath, tugging off his eyepatch harshly. The leather strip soon followed, and the prince ran a hand through his strands of starlight. “I have wasted too much of my time here. Harrenhal may have been a valuable prize but it has cost me too much.”

“You will take it back,” you reassured him, tone stern and sure. “And when you do, the sight of you and Vhagar will be the last thing they see before they meet their demise.” You had taken a bold step closer, cupping his chin in your hand to make him look at you. “I am sure of it.”

A mistake that had been, for Aemond’s scowl only deepened. He pulled himself from your grip, moving away to stare out the window. The shadows accentuated the sharp angles of his face, and under the moonlight, he looked like a god. “I have been distracted, and you have played your part in it,” he pointed out, turning to throw you a cold, menacing look. It made your knees tremble where you stood, fear blooming in your chest. “Tell me, my lady, what schemes did my uncle divulge during his time here?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, then of contempt. “I hold no loyalty to Rhaenyra nor Daemon if that is what you are insinuating, my prince. Not after she has tainted my good name,” you defended. Aemond raised his brow at your words, lips slowly raising into a one-sided smirk.

“You do not recognize her as queen, then?” he asked. This was a test, you realized.

“Does my opinion really matter?”

“It does, especially when yours and your son’s lives dangle on the edge of my sword.” His words made you sigh, exasperated. Playing the long game was tiresome. You were weary of having your life held in some man’s grip to do it with it as he pleased. Tired of having your freedom dangled in front of you like food to a dog.

You poured yourself a cup of wine, taking a big swig to fill you with courage. “You will find, my prince, that up until war had broken out many of us cared little for your family’s infighting. We had our own lives to deal with, mouths to feed, while you played your little game of succession,” you pointed out. He had turned to you at your words, almost impressed by your boldness to utter such words. “I am a woman of no great House, whose son’s life is constantly threatened by the utter brutality of his own uncle. Forgive me, if I haven’t given such matters much thought.”

The prince had made your way to where you stood now, taking the half-filled cup of wine from your grasp before taking a seat on the chaise. He pondered on your words, taking a small sip of your wine. “Your son is to inherit Harrenhal, yet Larys holds it in his power now,” he pointed out, to which you nodded.

“He does. Until my son comes of age,” you confirmed. Aemond hummed, the corners of his lips quirking upwards before returning to neutrality.

“And you think he will relinquish his power when the time comes?” he asked, earning a scoff from you. With a shake of your head, you plopped down beside him, letting out a heavy sigh.

“No.” You took the cup of wine when he offered it, chugging down the rest of its contents. With your last gulp, a droplet had found its escape through the corner of your lips, but your prince was quick to wipe it away with his thumb. “But there is no telling of what Larys would do once we start to force back.”

“And that is why you have stayed,” he concluded. You nodded once more, letting out another heavy, sad sigh. Perhaps you were overdoing it with the acting, but it seemed to be working since he was looking at you contemplatively. “Keeping your son here may not raise questions on Larys’ role as the current lord of the castle, but what is your plan afterward? When the boy comes of age, and your people call for him to become their lord?”

You shrugged. “I haven’t planned that far yet, we’ve been quite preoccupied with just getting through this war.”

It was an honest answer. In truth, you were unsure whether you and your son would even be alive at this moment if things had gone differently. You had to play your cards right, and you needed to act at the right time. You shifted your body to face his, your hand cupping his jaw to make Aemond look at you. He watched as you studied his features, let you rub your thumb on the edge of his scar. “It’s been rather tough on you as well, has it?” you whispered.

It was then his shoulders visibly relaxed, and you knew you had him right in your grasp. You leaned forward to nudge your nose against his.

Aemond’s thin lips had chased yours, but you moved to kiss where your thumb had been. You kissed his scar, then another one placed lower. Pecks of your love were peppered around his face, making him sigh in delight. The prince pulled you into his lap, where your lips descended downwards to his neck. His throat bobbed, and you had placed another kiss there. “Will you let me take care of you tonight?” you asked, ghosting your lips over his. He had chased you again, but you moved away with a tut. Your eyes portrayed a stern look, silently ordering him to use his words.

“Yes… please,” he whispered, to which you responded with a smile of satisfaction. Nimble fingertips made quick work to untie his breeches, pulling out his slowly hardening cock. You spat into your palm, before stroking his length with the slick.

His larger hands slithered to your waist, before finding your hem to bunch your skirts to your hips. The night air was cool on your moist cunny, almost making you shiver. Two fingers spread your glistening folds, showing him the seed that remained in your cunt. “I didn’t clean myself, as you asked, felt utterly filthy walking about with your seed dripping from me,” you said seductively, relishing in the way his good eye visibly darkened. You pressed his length to your folds, rubbing him with the mixture of your slick and his dragonseed. Expert hips gyrated against his, teasing his cockhead with every snag at your entrance.

Aemond watched the sight of his cock sliding against your cunt like a man bewitched. He could drool at the delectable sight of your center, flushed pink like a brushing rose hidden in the curls of your mound. His hips subtly canted to meet yours, while your hand kept his cockhead flush against your pearl. The friction made you both gasp, sending a twin spark to bloom in your chests. The silver-haired prince then took hold of his base, aligning it with your slit.

You speared yourself on his cock with a pleasured sigh, throwing your head back for extra measure. With a firm grip on your waist, Aemond made you set a quick pace. You obeyed, using the backrest of the chaise to steady yourself while you bounced on his cock. It reached deep within your walls, poking at a spot that made you genuinely moan out in delight. “Feels wonderful, my dragon… so big,” you breathed, making him groan against your neck. A harsh tug on your collar made your breasts spill out, baring the delectable mounds of flesh for him to devour.

Aemond wasted no time to take one of your teats into his mouth, rolling your nipple around with his tongue while his hand massaged the other. His silver hair was soft underneath your touch as you cradled his head, keeping him close to your bosom. “Good boy,” you praised, earning something akin to a whine from the kinslayer.

Gods, this felt all too good. The last man you had fucked was Harwin, and it was rather forced than pleasurable as it was with Aemond. It had been far too long since you have sought your pleasure. With a cock, that is.

It would be a lie to say you didn’t find your enjoyment in all of this, because despite the volume of the sighs and moans that you may fake at times, Aemond had made you see stars upon your release every single time, without fail.

“Do I make you feel good?” he asked, mumbling into your chest. You nodded frantically in earnest, cupping his jaw to catch his lips in a deep kiss.

“S-so good, Aemond. Only you have ever made me feel this way.”

He had preened at your words, his chest swelling with pride. Aemond planted his feet firmly into the ground, lifting his hips to meet your thrusts.

He liked it when you finished first, particularly enjoying watching you fall apart on his cock. With a fingertip moistened with spit, you rubbed your pearl to spur you further to your release. Your moans turned into high-pitched whines the closer you were to your precipice, tethering dangerously close to the edge. Aemond’s thumb soon replaced yours, rubbing faster, tighter circles that had you spilling on his cock in barely any time. You came with a moan of his name, the sweet song of your release echoing into the night.

Your walls massaged his length still enveloped deep into your walls, and you had let him grip your waist tight to bounce you up and down as though you were nothing but a rag doll. You pressed your lips to his ear, grazing your teeth against your earlobe. “Would you like a son, my dragon? I could give you one,” you whispered, spurning him further. It seemed to work, as he started to pant while barreling towards his end. You wrapped your arm around his shoulder to embrace him, pressing your breasts flush into the soft cotton of his tunic. Your perked buds poked into the hard planes of his chest, rubbing with every movement. “I could give you as many babes as you like,” you pressed.

His cock jumped at the thought of it, babes of your own. Aegon was soon to die of his wounds, and there was no question that Aemond would be sitting on the Iron Throne by the end of this war. You would give him heirs, and he shall make you queen. You teased him with whispers of what you would look like round with child, breasts leaking with milk for him to suckle on. With a loud groan, Aemond spilled hot seed into your walls, filling you to the brim.

You stayed connected for a moment, both equally breathless from your coupling. Aemond had shifted you both to lie horizontally on the settee, with you draped over him like a blanket. You pressed a kiss to his collarbone, to which he reciprocated with one on your hair. “Feeling better?” you spoke, drawing circles on his chest with your fingertip. It vibrated when he hummed, buzzing into your ear.

“Quite, though there is still much to be done for me before King’s Landing is taken back,” he responded, hand mindlessly caressing your back. “And when I do, I want you there with me.”

You lifted yourself to look at him, shock evident in your features. “W-what about my son?” you asked, hope blooming in your chest. His lips widened into a smirk, calloused fingertips brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Fret not, there is enough room on Vhagar for the three of us,” he reassured, chuckling as you scoffed in disbelief. Never in your wildest dreams did you ever imagine yourself on the back of a dragon, let alone the largest one in the known world.

“But Larys—”

“Fuck Larys. I will deal with that rat.” The sparkle in your eyes and the hammering in your chest made known what you have prayed for in all of your years, and with his good eye, you found the promise for the morrow. “Come with me, and you will have a place in court. As my wife.”

Perhaps your prayers were indeed beginning to be heard. With a passionate kiss on his lips, you voiced your decision, had sealed your fate. It stirred his softened cock that remained in your walls, but you cared little. You would give yourself over and over to him if it meant you would no longer be shackled in this cursed place. Your chest felt lighter than it had been for a whole decade, filled with a renewed purpose. Your labors have bore fruit, and it will be undeniably sweet. Indeed, it was better to befriend the enemy than face him, for the reward would be much more gracious than it would be painful.

“Sleep beside me tonight, and no more fucking moon tea.”

#bella writes ✍️#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen smut #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #aemond smut #aemond targaryen #hotd x reader

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takes1 · 3 months ago

Note

i am really in love with the way you write asahi!!!! really looking forward to part 2 of tipsy playfighting with him 😊😊😊

[final part] asahi getting rough with petite!reader

hellooooo thank you so much!!! was thiiiis 🤏close to doing a daddy kink thing, chose not to because that's kind of polarizing. like... pineapples on pizza

warnings. heavy nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / rough sex / f!rec oral / asahi is the perfect dominant / submissive!reader / aftercare king / fingering / mutual size kink / playfighting kink / rough play kink / power struggle fetish / pseudo-bdsm themes / pet names / mentions of subspace / mid-sex communication / being way too loud / daichi being a great friend / 3.5k words

links. my masterlist. my ao3. more haikyuu. part one here.

'Kind of' made you stall at the top of the stairs.

The second floor, you realized, was all bedrooms. Your legs got heavy, your heart beating like a panicked bird in a cage.

It was ironic. Your ability to handle him downstairs came naturally, but as soon as you had some privacy, it all got intimidating.

Asahi paused after turning the corner. He eased back against the wall with a breath. He glanced to the staircase one more time to make sure nobody had followed you.

"There's nothin' to help with," He laughed, rubbing the side of his stubbly face, "I just- yeah, that was a super lame excuse, actually."

You stood with your hands clasped in front of you, a polite smile, trying to flex all the shivers down. Your crush on him reached its peaks and valleys throughout your years in school together. It reached a happy medium until tonight, starkly reminding you of your old, pushed-down feelings.

He was wicked cute, and that whole performance downstairs was cut too short.

A big breath led to a bigger sigh, "I really wanted to kiss you."

"Me too," You said, with almost no time to let his words settle.

Asahi covered his automatic laugh, and you shared a wholesome moment of mutual, nervous relief.

"Well, uh-," He seethed, eyes up to the ceiling, face much warmer, "If we're being totally honest-,"

The cheers downstairs cut him off. It sounded like Kageyama might have won his match, but neither of you cared.

Asahi suggested, instead, "Should we- go somewhere more private?"

Although you nodded, you weren't sure where he had in mind until he showed you into Daichi's bedroom. You raised your brow, taking in his posters, his books, the layout, feeling a bit guilty that he wasn't in here.

"Oh, I made sure it was cool with him if we- um, talked, in here," He explained.

The supportive body language from those two made infinitely more sense, but you doubted it that ended at 'talking.' You kept your excitement under the surface, for now.

"Right."

He sat on the mattress, a little invested in the feel of the sheets, by the way his hand slid and prodded over the thread count. The ache between your legs was starting to make your whole body cold.

Daichi had those glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling, and you didn't want to leave it up to Asahi to fill the silence, so you tried, "How long do y'think he's had those?"

There were at least 20, you counted. When you looked back down, he was relaxed forward, elbows rested on his knees, with his face in his hands, staring straight at you. Screw the ceiling.

He cleared his throat, his eyes flickered dismissively up, "Oh, um- forever, I'm sure."

Asahi was a terrible liar. You were glad he was honest with you in the hall, because he had zero capacity for beating around the bush. His intentions were spoken for, but now they were transparent in his clouded, almost tormented eyes. He made it seem difficult to look at you without touching you.

"You said you wanted to kiss me, right?" The decision to make it easy for him was met with a huge shift in his expression, an ease you saw, earlier, that spread as he ran his hands along your sides.

A gentle brush of his thumb across your cheek, "I did."

Kissing him was simple- it didn't feel rushed, or confusing, at all. He made it all a pleasant and invigorating experience to follow his lead.

His fingers spread through your hair, at the base of your neck. A strong but soft pull brought you into the warm embrace of his body.

He smelled good- mostly like the aged liquor he was nursing most of the night, but a bit woody, with hint of cashmere. Even his scent made you feel taken care of.

"So," You caught your breath for a second, taking in his face as you tucked some hair behind his ear, "Are you sure Daichi's fine with us- talking, all over his bed?"

The way his eyes lit up during his chuckle made you grin, validated and light.

His lips smushed against yours again. He was lifting you up by the waist, setting you on your back with proud effortlessness. You kept your arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, getting your fill of his hair while you could.

Before he could completely forget to respond, he hummed a preoccupied, "Yeahh, don't worry about'm."

A hand pinned yours against the mattress.

All he needed was a little reassurance, and he was no longer the sheepish wimp you knew him to be. For a while, when those hot summer seasons coincided with the throws of your crush, it was fun to imagine what he might be like. Now, there was proof, and he didn't disappoint.

The growing pressure he placed on you kept you flat, and slowly limited your ability to move. It was getting familiar.

You tried to move your hand from under his, unlace it, just to touch him, but it proved impossible.

A small chuckle, a little mutter against his temple as he struck crude kisses down the side of your neck: "Can I have my hand back?"

The skin over his knuckles was tough, and his palms were leathery, firm, from all the lifting he did. His strength alone spoke for his dedication, but you felt pleased to know these intimate details about his body.

Your request was met with your other hand being taken hostage. It wasn't fast, but he did it so naturally that you didn't think to move away.

The look he gave you perfectly represented the edge under his words.

"You want your hands back?"

It was a tease-- a way of telling you 'I know you can't move, but I want to see you try.'

You grew warm under the weight of his subtle, playful pushing-- both between your legs and over your palms.

Robbed of your autonomy, but still finding yourself exhilarated by the reality of his size, and his capacity to use it well, the only thing left to do was play along with him. If he had a real thing for this, you wanted to know just how far it went, how worked up it could get you both.

A tiny attempt to pull your arms closer was met with his easy, slow adjustment to cross them instead, above your head. He kissed you through it, all warm and gentle and kind and safe-- but curiously engrossed in your inability to physically overcome him.

It sent a warm chill down your back- flexed, lingering in another ache between your thighs.

His lips were so soft, and sweet, and light, contrasted well against the slight burn of his stubble.

"Mm-," Asahi sighed, a soft peck to your cheek so he could collect himself, "You're givin' up already?"

The warm spill of his words across your face, plus the thrill of his little challenge, had you squirming, all knotted up and itching for him to give you more than just kisses.

"You--," You tensed at his slow, messy sucking along your jaw, "You-mm! Know I can't move..."

Maybe he was taking pity on you- maybe it was your whiny admission fueling a more licentious desire, inspiring him to let you go so he could start stripping you. You delighted in the chance it gave you to watch his reactions.

Soon, you were fully nude- and he was still fully clothed, with no foreseeable urgency to even the imbalance out.

Instead, he let a hand overlap your waist, eyes still busy scouring over you, "Are you gonna be okay?"

"Dunno," You mumbled, playing with his fingers as you shot a look to his fly, "Maybe you should check."

Your coquettish quip earned a hasty, rough, but amused kiss. You writhed against his weight again, this time with a justifiable anticipation at the sound of him pulling his cock out.

It was hot as it fell against your skin. A welcome feeling of closeness you couldn't get from much else, just being skin to skin with somebody else. It made you feel a bit like melted butter.

He pushed himself up to take his shirt off, all the while examining his length, pushing it down so that he could measure it in relation to your small torso.

"We'll have to, um..." You trailed, a shaky exhale at his burly, tanned physique, "Be.."

The word 'careful' fell apart on your tongue. Now he was measuring his fingers, next to his cock. One hand remained idle wrapped around the bulk of your thigh.

It was indeed fascinating how some body types probably shouldn't try to come together, like you were. Seemed like an evolutionary flaw.

Especially because the look in his eyes was nothing short of carnivorous. It was occasionally batted back by bouts of concern for the logistics of it all.

"I've got a few ideas," He smiled, real handsome, real sweet, down at you.

Curious, you watched all your favorite muscles of his work and relax again as he backed up off of the mattress, standing at the edge of the bed.

In a second, you had been pulled closer, then adjusted in front of him- it left you breathless at the simple ease of it all. You fixed your hair, a glossy and fixated admiration in your gaze up to him.

Awed, you told him in a shaky giggle, "I really like that..."

Asahi leaned over you; a timid and flattered sigh prickling up your skin, "Yeah?"

His rough hands pinched at your hips as he kissed a messy trail down your tummy.

Whispered, just as his knees hit the carpet, "I like it, too."

It was impossible to not get excited. He always stuck you as a guy with more patience than most.

Patient was a good word to describe the way he ate you out-- he may have liked to toss you around, but it wasn't out of carelessness, or negligence. It was an exploration of boundaries, a bit of power play, and this was played right into the dynamic. His performance wasn't perfect, or void of little, silly hiccups, but it was endearing and fun to discover together.

After he got you warmed up, he began slowly, one by one, pushing his fingers into you.

"How's that feel?"

It was a curious, but flirty question.

He already knew how much you were enjoying yourself, how you were trying to keep yourself quiet under your hand, struggling to not roll your hips into his hand. He just wanted to hear you.

A raspy sigh, a distracted nod, "So g-ood--,"

"Takin' me soo well," He grinned, sucking another messy kiss to you, "Y'want another?"

It wasn't exactly audible, but he was watching that sweet, desperate little expression on your face enough to know you did.

You could feel his smile spread- making your thighs flinch, your body curl at the intensity of getting stretched even further.

"You're so cute."

A mumbly admission, buzzing just right onto you. You were so full of him, reeling in how thick three of his fingers were, and dangerously close once he concentrated on your clit.

Soon you were gripping harder, twitching, then squeezing him--, "H-ah-!"

You started begging when nonverbal queues didn't get through.

"Asahi- asahi, please-ah," You huffed, starting to feel your climax rushing in, threatening to take hold of you, "I'm s-o close-!"

You thought he would stop, for favor of dragging this out longer, but he didn't slow down, nor did he let off of you. The only change was his grip tightening, gripping into your skin. A twitch of your thigh, trying to push on him, was met with a powerful pull to keep it far away, to the side and keep you opened up.

The pressure it brought only added to your rapture- he was actively getting off to watching, hearing, feeling you beg for a break. He loved it.

"Mmn-!" Pulling on his hair did you no favors, other than encouraging that slow, constant swirl of his big tongue around your swollen clit.

In the end, the harshness in your brow, in your clawing fingers, your shaky thighs, all softened under his steady hold. He felt so good taking you apart, then bringing you all back together.

Another messy kiss, so sweet- but so mean, shoved you over the steep edge.

He could feel you tighten, pulse around his fingers and filled you to the knuckle; a tipsy, crooked smile barely visible under his working tongue.

It took so long to come out of the throws of your orgasm that he was already back on top, filling the space above you. You quickly locked your legs around him, hands guiding his face up for a kiss.

His knack for multitasking never stopped. You were given so many gentle, attentive kisses as he put you in the center of the bed, where there was finally room for the both of you.

He wanted you on your elbows and knees. Numb, and tingly, and pliable, you let him adjust you the way he wanted; you kept your debaucherous smile to yourself.

You needed every second of that foreplay to take him- he was the biggest you had ever been with. Thankfully, he also happened to be the sweetest.

"Ooh my god," Your trembling was quelled by the weight of his body.

His groan was low, stuttery, at your tight pussy clenching hard all around him.

He caught his breath, a pretty moan in the back of his throat, "Shit."

His praises were loosely strung together, punctuated in little kisses to the back of your head as he placed his elbows on the mattress, at your sides. If he had been watching, he probably wouldn't have lasted very long.

It was getting rough, quickly, but you found his kind attention more than enough to keep you relaxed.

"Mm-!" You muffled a cry, fisting the sheets while he chuckled at how cute all your little sounds were, hungry for more.

In one fluid motion, he had your arms pinned; one was tucked under you, the other was extended far out in front of you. The responsive gasp was more of your body, reacting on its own, but it was an invigorating thing to consider. He was such a timid guy, so every dirty thing he said or did still took you by surprise.

It was just like how you finished your match earlier, with one big difference.

"Mmnh-aAh! Augh-ah-Mm!"

Your surprised, whiny sounds spilled free against the sheets. His cock filled every bit of you- it felt so good your breath was getting shorter, harder to catch.

You couldn't see it, but he drank that messiness up, a furrowed concentration in his brow to keep giving it to you as hard as you needed.

"You like that?" His voice was right in your neck again, buzzed.

It melted your resistance away- you couldn't even squirm, couldn't tell him yes. You were so full, so close already, that when he stalled deep and cruel, to let you think, your euphoria was barely interrupted. You cried, tearless, drooling a little on Daichi's sheets.

"You wanna talk to me, sweetie?"

The kindness in his voice right now should've been illegal. You breath was getting shaky, your vision long since useless.

"T-ell me-mm, how it feels," He muttered, still egging you on, a kiss to the tip of your ear.

His voice fell away from you, your heart pounding in your ears- you were just swimming in delectation. His warmth, his sure delivery of careful pleasure, his gravelly, well-meaning taunts. It was starting to take you far away, for the first time.

You noticed, but didn't react to his retracting hands, nor the readjustment of his weight off of you.

He was deeply troubled that you hadn't responded to him.

If Asahi had been any more experienced or confident, he would've known the clear signs of subspace-- but considering his experience ended at some casual sex, and the absence of conversation, and not understanding of either of your limits, he thought he fucked up, bad.

You were just different. That made him nervous.

Concern laced his voice quick, a sobering sound.

"Hey?" There were a couple taps to your cheek, and when you got your focus back, he was bending to try to get a good look at your face.

You gave a weak smile, "Mm?"

"You okay?"

A big stretch, an otherwise silly invitation for him to put his hands back on top of yours, "Mmmmhm..."

The way you sat back a little, pushing yourself gently onto his cock, made him take a second. A quick moment to suck in a restrained breath. Then a reserved, relieved chuckle.

"Are you- sure?" Was his last attempt. Now he was noticing the shakiness from your legs, your irregular breathing.

He put a tiny peck to your temple, fingers carefully running over your side.

You gave a close-mouthed whine and winced away at the ticklish sensation, "God-- Just fuck me please,"

When he was watching where to put his hands, he noticed your wiggly fingers, and grinned- happy to take you up on the offer, again.

He met your light pushing with stronger, steady strokes that kept you gasping- whiny, with pleasure.

Your endurance was absolute garbage, when it came to his unconventional way of treating you. Neither of you were expecting it to click so well- not as just-friends, for years, with on-and-off separate partners and countless, ill-timed crushes on each other.

It was amusing to think of how different this would make your 'friendship' now. How could you tell the team you were dating, after they watched what was essentially half of your foreplay downstairs?

This orgasm washed over you in shorter, smaller waves than the first- but it took so long to fully crest that it felt a thousand years longer.

You weren't particularly loud, this time, but now that he was paying so much attention to you, he spoke you through it with unparalleled timing.

"Good, fuck- that's good," He sighed, huffy, in your ear.

His hand quickly clasped over your mouth before you could make a sound.

Though you felt so perfect, the little scare you gave him warded off any chance he had at cumming, too. It'd have to wait for some other time. The satisfaction from getting you to this point was more than enough payoff for him.

"Good girl."

You had never felt so disconnected from your own body before. It was like you felt your climax about two rooms down the hall- and all it left you with was some invisible, heavy blanket all across your limbs.

For all that was worth, it was pretty cool.

His quiet shushing, all in your ear, was the evidence you needed that you hadn't been entirely present. You weren't sure when he started and when he stopped.

"You're okay- you're okay," He cooed, thumb gently brushing your warm cheek.

He held you incredibly still, listening, watching, for you, before pulling out.

You felt like a heavy bag of sand.

In fact, after he had shifted slowly off you and leaned closer, the way you slumped down was akin to one. Maybe more of a bag of concrete mix, instead.

It was staggering to believe your sweet, silly, nervous Asahi took it out of you, like that.

"You okay?" He was ultra-gentle, now, sliding featherlight touches over your back.

It was just enough to keep you awake.

"(Y/n)?"

You didn't realize you needed to respond. A slow, laborious sigh. You opened your eyes and were surprised to see him, once again, leaning over you to watch your face.

"Yeah..."

It didn't convince him- he looked like he was going to call an ambulance.

"I'm- tired," You went to push yourself up.

The intense quivering in your arms stopped you. Having to push back against him for so long was exhausting, and now you were completely spent. You wondered if it had anything to do with the little fight earlier, too.

He shook his head when he noticed you try to move on your own again, "Nono, I got you."

For the millionth time tonight, his ability to pick you up, from whatever position he found himself in, left you in a delighted daze. He set you so that you at least had a pillow under your head.

"You need some water? Let me go get some for you real quick."

You did feel pretty dried up. Like a dead, frail flower.

A tiny nod, and he was rushing to put on enough clothes, zipping out the door in search of water. You fell asleep in the short time he was gone, too sleepy to pull the covers over you or to roll to your side.

"Mmh..."

It had only been a minute or so.

But you felt a thousand years old, getting woken up from an ancient slumber, when a soft throw blanket was covering you- a big, gentle hand over top of it, rubbing your shoulder to rouse you.

Asahi settled to your side, watched closely as you drank, and pressed more kisses to the side of your head. He reached over you to set the bottle on the bedside table.

"Thank you," You leaned into him, then decided to give him a little edge of the blanket, too, and rested your head on his chest, "I'm okay."

"Good."

He was warm. You squeezed an arm over him.

"How are we gonna tell everyone?" You mumbled, against his tummy.

"I-... don't think we need to."

Confused at what he meant by that, you stopped trying to burrow into him, and propped up a little to look him in the face.

"Uh-," He tilted his head from side to side, a little warmth on his tan features, "We weren't...exactly...quiet."

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spiceofvy · 4 months ago

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Stray kids with a bunny gf in heat🫣

SKZ with a bunny reader in heat

a/n: i am really excited to post this, i wanted to dabble into hybrids for a long time! so thank you so much for that request!

cws: nsfw, no gendered terms but reader is heavily implied to be afab, bunny-hybrid!reader, heats/mating cycles, reader is nesting (changbin, hyunjin), dom skz (except for jisung) sub-ish!reader, bottom!reader, mentions of food/eating, lots of talk of sex drives

Chan: Your heat is his favorite time of the year. Gets all giddy and excited shortly before your heat hits. He is up for the challenge. His stamina matches yours during heat and he can freely fuck you stupid. Outside of your heat he always feels the need to hold himself back, as to not be too much for you, but during your heat, he takes what he needs and in turn gives you what you crave. So much demeaning praise, you are so good for him, so good but also so needy. Most likely to forget that the two of you need food and water in between the fucking, sue him. Because the sex definitely makes up for it.

Minho: He is very strict with you during your heat. He knows how harsh heats can be on your cute body and he will not let you starve yourself just so you can get fucked more. Stupid needy thing. You will eat. You will drink water. And you will sleep. No ifs or buts. Ties you up if you don't listen and keep on humping him. Doesn't have as much stamina but is more than willing to fuck you stupid on a toy or his fingers instead. All in all he is very strict with you but also super loving. He only wants your best after all.

Changbin: Such a sweet boy. He can't quite keep up with your sex drive but is super down to you just taking what you need from him when he gets tired. Sleepily gets you off with his hands or by letting you ride his thigh as he collects himself. And when he has the energy again he pushes you face back into the mattress and fucks you until your eyes roll back and you drool all over yourself. We love a versatile king. Also loves to feed you with sweets and praising you through every phase of your heat. Makes sure your nest is only filled with the softest pillows and the fluffiest blankets.

Hyunjin: He stays in control the whole time. No matter what happens. You are in such a vulnerable situation, you need someone to take care of you and your heat clouded mind. He is not scared to use toys to get you off, overstimulates you so your resting phase is longer after and he can provide you with food. If you feel comfortable leaving your nest he would also carry you to the bathtub and give you a deep clean. During your first heat he also tried to clean your nest a bit. But he quickly learned that bunnies can bite too. So now he swallows down his need to prepare a clean bed for you.

Jisung: Everytime your heat rolls around he tries to keep control of the situation but everytime he ends up laying on his back with you riding him like there is no tomorrow. Just lays there and whines almost as pitifully as you do while you use him to chase your next orgasm. Honestly, an outsider could think that this was heat too, just from the sound he makes. He sets alarms to remind the two of you to eat and drink some water. The food he prepared is not the healthiest but it does its job. Cuddles you the whole time and does not want to leave your side.

Felix: He is super close to being able to match your sex drive. Fucks you so well, caging your body with his as he takes you from behind. Whispering the filthiest praise into your ear. Petting your hair before pulling it roughly to hear your pretty little mewls. When you are finally tired he feeds you while rubbing your stomach. Massaging your tired muscles. Loves if you sleep on top of him, or something similarly close. Also, he doesn't care about how hot you get, you will not sleep without a blanket. Not on his watch. When you stir him awake again, because you got horny, he would totally make you grind on a pillow, before he takes mercy on you fucks you again.

Seungmin: He always plans out how your heats go beforehand. This may be unromantic or boring to some but it serves well. And makes sure that you are never dissatisfied. He knows his own body and drive very well, and after spending he couple of heats with you, he also has your waves figured out pretty good. He knows exactly when its enough for you to just be fucked with a toy or when you need his dick to turn you into a stupid mess. So he knows how to preserve his energy so he is ready for you during the height of your heat. He is also super protective of you, no one gets to be close to you. Not even a call from the outside world.

Jeongin: Not really a surprise, but he also matches your stamina perfectly. I would even go so far to say that his drive is even stronger than yours. He fucks you through the waves of your heat easily, just to then smile at you softly and feed you a perfectly nutritious meal. He keeps is dick deep inside you so you can feel sated during your sleep, and when you wake up horny, all you need to do is grind back against him to immediately get off again. He is probably the best heat partner out of all of them. But after your heat he does need 2-3 business days off to recover. But honestly, this just means that you can get some nice after-heat-cuddles.

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 1 year ago

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NEWLYWEDS. 18+

pairing. bucky barnes x fem!reader

word count. 987

summary. you and bucky spent the last night of your honeymoon not sleeping

warnings. 18+ only. little bit of body worship (includes foot kissing and titty stuff) unprotected pinv, lovey dovey vanilla smut. minors dni

requested here by angel 🦢anon x

With Bucky, passion and intimacy are things neither of you had to forge, two characteristics that felt effortless in your relationship.

Being newlyweds on your honeymoon was bound to intensify any love and affection you previously had, every touch and glance feeling like those firsts at the beginning. The entire vacation was filled with everything you dreamt of: late-night walks on the beach, dinners in quaint restaurants downtown, mingling with the locals and even sex in the shower overseeing the ocean.

It was utter paradise, and neither of you wanted to leave. But tonight was your last night in your perfect little utopia, and you wanted to make the most of it.

So now, after eating dessert on the balcony and watching the sunset, both of you were in bed, putting the super king bed to use for the final time.

You lay flat on the mattress, Bucky sitting on his knees between your thighs, each of your bodies bare - the sheets loosely encircling you both. Your legs bent, your inner knees skimming the sides of his ribs, your lower half merely enveloping him.

His hands run off the bumps of your knees and down your thighs, his touch light and tender - simply caressing you with his eyes locked down on yours. His focus purely on you. His palms reach the very inners of your thighs before he reverses his touch - his fingers running back over your knees and down your shins behind him.

He slips a hand under your foot and raises it, lifting your leg by the heel until it's level with him. He peppers the top of your foot with kisses, littering more around the inside of your ankle - maintaining eye contact with you below. He gives your other the same attention, practically worshipping you by peppering pecks around your feet. And then he places it down as he did to your first, setting it gently on the bed either side of him.

Leaning over you, he presses kisses up the sides of your throat, running along your jaw - circling your chin til he reaches your pretty parted mouth above. He mumbles against your lips before pulling away to resume his prior string of kisses - now working them along the opposite side of your throat, trailing down your collarbone and to your chest. His cock resting bare and heavy between your thighs.

His lips skim over the plane of your chest, ever so slowly working down to your tits. With one hand situated beside you for stability, his other is clasped on you - his fleshed hand flush with the skin of your side. He continues with his teasing line of kisses down to your tits, littering either one with faint, delicate kisses til he reaches your nipple. Giving each one the subtlest of attention before pulling away.

He peels himself away from you, sitting back on his heels between your legs - his fingers running along your stomach, touch light and teasing. He wraps his fleshed hand around his cock, his grip loose around the base as he guides his head closer to you.

You slip your hand into his metal one, lacing your fingers in with his as he starts to graze the tip through your folds - the feel of it all making your mind fuzzy.

He rubs his thumb over the back of your hand as he eases the head of his cock into you, the rest of him waiting for you to adjust. He hovers back over you in the same way as before - his vibranium hand beside your head for support, his other cupping your face.

More of his cock eases in, every inch of him slowly sinking into you - your pussy taking him at your own pace. No rush, no pressure, no effort, just your cunt sucking little bits of him at a time until you're full.

He stills, letting you accommodate him, allowing you the time you need to adjust to his cock. The faint, delicate kisses Bucky presses into your shoulder proves his patience.

"So beautiful," he whispers, looking down at you, thumbing over your cheek.

Your eyes soften, brows pulling together in the middle when you feel the faint wind of his hips - a small amount of his dick easing out, only to sink back in again. You reach a hand to the side of his face, fingers skimming backwards into the short strands of hair, keeping him close when you feel him do it again. It was as if you were seeking him for comfort.

He keeps his eyes on you, pretty blues half-lidded on you below him - watching your features grow pliant under his attention. And ever so slowly does he begin to pick up pace, little bits of his cock dragging in and out of you - his public bone flush with yours, the skin on skin alluding to the closeness of it all.

You cling onto him with the mere increase in speed, your arms and legs wrapped loosely around his back and hips with the grinding motion - holding him close.

Bodies entwined, souls weaved - both of you making the most of your final night in paradise, going slow and steady into the late hours of the night.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky smut #bucky x reader smut #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x female reader

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yinahla · 8 months ago

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The Ultimate Guide to Luxury Mattresses: Improve Your Sleep Experience Today

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fanficimagery · 1 year ago

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Violent Little Thing

To the Sons of Anarchy, you're just Happy's neighbor that doesn't care for drama or the fact that they wear kuttes. But in actuality, you've dealt and probably have done far worse, and it isn't until you're kidnapped that they find out your secret.

Author's Note: Long time no see, huh? Does this mean I'm back? Hell no. This has been sitting in my drafts since mid-2023 and thought it was time to go out. For never having seen more than a few episodes, I love these SOA boys. I'm not super familiar with the lingo or clubhouse etiquette, so this is gonna take place away from that particular setting. Trigger warning for graphic violence and attempted sexual assault (it doesn't get far). Reader is gonna be a little… off the rails. Blame all the dark romance I've been reading lmao.

Before moving into your new home, you knew it was going to be a fixer upper. Fortunately for you, you loved working with your hands, and after having been banished to Charming in hopes of calming your inner demons, you were going to have a lot of time to do just that. But the joke was on your family because there was no calming your demons. People just needed to learn to not piss you the fuck off.

When you get to the house, however, you see that a majority of the work has already been done for you. The only thing left for you to do is paint the walls, rearrange furniture, and unbox your belongings. The electricity and water are already turned on, and wifi has been installed with your password on a sticky note.

The master bedroom is huge and you love it, but you don't have nearly enough belongings to fill it. Your queen-sized bed looks tiny and you immediately want something bigger. So heading back outside to your vehicle, you grab your bag that has your laptop inside and head back in. Setting up at your kitchen island, you search for a place that will deliver any type of food and beverage. You find a pizzeria just on the outskirts of town that will deliver to Charming, so you place a quick order. It's a forty minute wait period, so to pass the time you start looking up bedroom ideas.

You run across a California king bed, but none really catch your eye. What does catch your eye, however, are the DIY beds that touch from one side of the wall to the other. You take your laptop back to your bedroom so see if it's do-able, and come to the conclusion that it is. You'll have to add some floating shelves since you won't be able to have bedside tables, but that's perfectly fine with you. You then take the time to get down the measurements of your room because you still have to situate your dresser and mount your TV to the wall, and you need to make sure everything will fit.

Eventually your food gets there and, sitting at the kitchen island, you dig in. You slowly eat and drink your fill, and then place any leftovers in the already cool refrigerator.

Needing some bathroom necessities and sheets for your current bed, you unload your vehicle. You place each box in their respective rooms, but leave them mostly boxed up. And not wanting to get any TV's mounted or bed fully put together since you still have to paint the walls, you remain on your laptop to pass the time and send messages to your family to let them know you're okay.

It takes you a couple of weeks to build your bed frame, get in your special ordered mattress, and paint the walls to your liking. You do most of your building in the driveway, so you've become accustomed to the people living on your street, waving at them as they pass or call out a greeting. But there's one individual everyone seems to steer clear of or avoid eye contact with, and that's your next door neighbor who rides a motorcycle and proudly wears a Sons of Anarchy kutte.

You had first seen the intimidating, bald man when he showed up a couple days after you moved in. You'd looked up when you heard the rumblings of engines and watched two motorcycles pull into the driveway next door. You paused hammering for a moment, nodded at the two men who took a moment to stare back, and then went back to work.

Over the next few days, men came and went from next door. And each time, they were intrigued watching you work. But eventually your bed frame was finished and you had to situate it in your bedroom. Maneuvering the mattress was no easy feat, but you were not about to ask for help, and it didn't take you long to finally finish furnishing your home to your liking.

As busy as you've been, you haven't really had the time to eat a home cooked meal. So after everything, you took a trip to the grocery store and bought hundreds of dollars of food and drink to stock your kitchen with.

The air is finally cool and crisp, so all the windows to your home are wide open. You'd been feeling a little restless, so you opted to cook a meal that would keep you busy. Enchiladas, rice, and beans is one of your favorite meals, so after making sure you have everything, you put a pot of beans to cook. They have to cook for a few hours, so while that's going on you get online to check in with your family.

When the beans are done, you get started on browning hamburger meat. Setting a majority of the meat aside, you use only a bit for the enchilada sauce. You pour in water, flour, spices, and some canned chili until it's to your liking, and then heat up some corn tortillas before you start rolling the enchiladas. After they're in a pan that holds far too many for only you, you pour the enchilada sauce on top before shredding some cheese atop of it. Once that's in the oven, you get started on a pan of rice.

It's when the rice is boiling that your doorbell rings. A little tired and more than a little hungry, you grab up your beer after turning off the rice, and take a swig of it on your way to the door. Since the door is wide open, you can easily see who's standing just on the other side of the screen door. It's one of the Sons, one of the only two with brown skin that you've seen so far. But this isn't the intimidating bald one, this is the one with a shaved mohawk down the center of his head and a killer smile.

You arch an eyebrow at him as he tucks his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and you take another swig of beer as you lean against the door jamb. "Yes?"

The corner of his eyes crinkle as his smile widens. "Hi. Uh, me and my boys are chilling next door and we couldn't help but smell whatever it is you're eating. You mind sharing the name of the place where you picked up your food from so we can go get some too? Smells really good."

Your lips twitch. "Who said I picked anything up?"

"You cooking?" His eyes widen. "Bullshit."

You huff a laugh and nod. "YN."

"Juice."

"Mhmm." You push the door open just enough so you can lean out and peer next door, catching sight of two men sitting sideways on the seats of their bike. "Just you three?"

"Yeah."

You hum again and then back into your home as the screen door shuts quietly. "I've been watching you guys come and go, nodding cordially when our gazes clash," you say. "If you're willing to leave your shoes by the front door, you're more than welcome to pull up a seat at the table."

"Forreal?"

"Sure." You shrug. "I never learned how to cook for one, so I might have made an entire tray of enchiladas that will most likely go to waste if someone else doesn't eat them."

"Oh hell yeah." Juice turns, cupping his hands around his mouth as he says, "Yo! Free meal! Get over here!"

You watch as one man eagerly gets off his bike, whooping in delight of free food. The other, the one you believe actually lives next door, casually gets up at a leisurely pace. You push open the screen door as they're stomping up your porch steps, and Juice introduces you to Tig and Happy. You do your best not to smile because Happy does not look quite so happy, but he grunts a greeting when you tell them your name.

As Juice steps into your home, he's quick to kick off his shoes and tell his boys to do the same. They do and then you lead the way to the kitchen, pointing at your table. "Siéntate."

"Ohhh. A Spanish lady," Tig muses as Juice translates for him to sit down as you instructed. When you glance at him, his wild-crazed gaze makes you snort. "I like 'em a little spicy."

"And I like 'em less talkative." Happy and Juice both snort, and Tig beams at your sassy retort. "Beer or soda?"

Tig and Happy take beers, and Juice takes a soda. You serve them each their own plate of three enchiladas, a scoop of rice, and a scoop of beans. You serve yourself last with a glass of water, and finally take a seat to dig into all your hard work.

"Goddamn," Tig grumbles after his first bite of everything. "This is some Mexican restaurant level shit here."

You grin as you eat at your own pace, feeling content at watching three grown men finding your cooking delicious.

"So what's your story?" Juice asks. "In all the times I've come around, it's just you here."

"That's because it is just me here."

"Why Charming?"

You take a moment to swallow your food, washing it all down with a sip of water as you lean back in your chair. Then glancing between each man and the patches on their kuttes, you ask, "Do you want the real story or the story I'm feeding anyone who asks in polite small talk when they see a new face in the store?"

All three men slow their eating, their gazes sliding up to you in surprise.

"What's the story you tellin' the locals?" Tig asks.

Placing a hand over your heart and changing your voice so you sound like a southern belle, you say, "Just that I just left a very nasty relationship and my family thought I deserved a fresh start away from the man who dared lift a fist in my direction."

Tig snorts. "And the real story?"

You chuckle as your voice goes back to normal. "My family thought I needed to calm my inner demons, so they banished me to Charming. Joke's on them, I've made peace with my demons. It's not my fault people keep pissing me off."

Tig and Juice laugh as Happy smirks at you.

"What'd you do to earn banishment?" Juice wonders.

You shrug. "I wasn't joking about the nasty relationship. I just leave out the small detail that once I was out of the hospital, I went crawling back to my dickhead of an ex-fiancé and plotted my revenge."

"Crazy and you can cook. Marry me," Tig says.

You shake your head at him, eating a bit more before finishing the story. "I was raised to take no shit from anyone. So after he put me in the hospital, I made him believe all was well. Then one night, when he least suspected it, I slipped him a little something so he was conscious, but paralyzed, and set fire to his house."

The three men freeze, but you continue eating as if it was no big deal.

"Did you- did you kill him?" Juice warily asks.

"Unfortunately, no." You pout and then laugh at their awed expressions. "He had nosy neighbors so they were able to get the firetrucks there as soon as they smelled smoke. But when my family found out, they said I was sloppy, so I got shipped out here."

"Yoo.. what the fuck?" A moment of quiet ensues and then Juice is laughing. "That has to be the craziest shit I've heard in a while."

"I highly doubt that." Your gaze drops to the patch on his kutte. "I'm sure you've heard, seen, or taken part of some pretty crazy shit." When you meet his gaze again, you smirk. "Am I wrong?"

Juice grins and then looks at Happy. "Your neighbor is cool as shit. I'm kind of jealous." The air of amusement lingers as everyone continues to eat. "So what do you do for work?"

"I do some IT stuff for my family." You shrug. "I can work from anywhere, so I guess I'll still be doing that. What about you boys? What do you do other than ride?"

"We work at Teller Automotive," Tig says. "Only car garage in town."

"Really? Do you guys have any openings this week? I need my oil changed."

"Sure. We'll leave a number before we leave."

The rest of dinner is spent with the men telling you what there is to do in Charming and asking how long you plan on staying. You're not really sure, but if you end up liking Charming then you have no issues setting down roots. And then when dinner is done and you've seemed to exhaust all the small talk topics, you plate up the leftovers and send the men on their way.

Over the next couple of weeks, you befriend your neighbor. You take your vehicle into Teller Automotive and Happy takes it upon himself to take care of it for you. Tig and Juice had kept you company, and introduced you to a few of their other brothers when they took interest in their new friend. You were invited to one of their parties and, after some pressuring, you went. Nothing shocked you, not even a few members of the club getting head in plain sight, but Happy apparently shocked everyone else by gluing himself to your side. According to the club President, Happy was normally found in the ring outside or fucking his way through croweaters, but that night he made sure that no one bothered you.

Then more often than not, Happy reaped the benefits of your cooking and appeared for dinner before taking leftovers home for lunch.

In such a short period of time, you grow accustomed to the stern biker's company.

One morning, you're startled awake by the doorbell ringing and a fist pounding on the door. You sit up and scoot out of bed, hurrying towards your front door in a groggy, yet panicked state. But before you pull the door open, you peer out one of the thin windows on one side of your door. It takes a moment for you to realize it's Happy and that the sky behind him is still dark.

Unlocking the door, you pull it open. "What the fuck, Hap? What's going on?"

With a duffel bag hanging off his shoulder, Happy looks you up and down. "You always answer the door like this or am I just special?"

You freeze and then glance down, rolling your eyes when you remember you went to sleep in a gray wife beater, that makes it very obvious you're not wearing a bra, and a pair of hipster underwear. "Neither. You're lucky."

"Sure." You narrow your eyes at him and he smirks. "I forgot the bills were due and everything got shut off. Can I crash here until I get it sorted?"

Without missing a beat, you say, "Yeah," and step back from the door, opening it wider. "Shoes off. You know where the bathroom is and I'm pretty sure you can find the guest bedroom." You yawn and lock the door behind your friend. "What time is it?"

"Little after five."

"Happy," you whine. "S'too fuckin' early. M'going back to bed." As you pad back to your room, you don't hear any footsteps behind you. "Stop staring at my ass!"

"Can't help it. Might start dropping by early now."

"Do it and die, Lowman." Stopping and turning, you point an accusatory finger at him. "Do not come in between me and my bed. I will murder you."

His lips twitch. "Worth it."

. .

It takes less than a week for Happy to get his power and water turned back on, and then he's back at his house. Though there are times when he shows up for dinner, dropping off on your couch when he's too tired to walk back home. Normally you would mind, but Happy knew how to clean up after himself, so you didn't mind that it seemed he was practically half moved in.

One night, you get a call from your brother that they need you to come in and work on cracking the passwords on a few laptops they'd gotten their hands on. You agreed, but first you needed to arrange someone to look after your house.

The next afternoon, you show up to Teller Automotive. You find Happy on a smoke break and ask him for a favor. When you ask him if he can keep an eye on your house for two days, he seems surprised, even more so when you give him a copy of your house key. You tell him he can crash there and eat whatever food you have so long as he doesn't trash the place. He readily agrees.

And when you return two days later, you realize you should have specified that he could crash in the guest bedroom. Finding a nearly naked Happy in your bed isn't half bad, nor is the firmness of his ass when you smack a hand down on it to wake him up.

Immediately he jerks awake, twisting his body as he sits up, and pointing a gun right at your face. You laugh and lick the tip of the barrel while wiggling your eyebrows at him. "Wakey, wakey."

"You're a fuckin' pyscho," he grumbles, lowering his gun.

"Yeah, well duh. You should have had that figured out a long time ago." He rolls his eyes before turning to drop down face first back into your pillow, shoving his gun back under it. You grin. "Was there something wrong with the guest room you've been using?"

"No. I just didn't know how fuckin' massive your bed was. It looked lonely without a body in it."

"Mhmm. I'm sure." He grunts and you chuckle as you crawl out of the bed. "I'm gonna go pick up some breakfast from the diner. Want anything?"

"Anything and everything."

"Gotcha. I'll text you when I'm on my way back."

. .

The dynamic between you and Happy ended up changing after that fateful morning. When he slept over, it was in your bed. You hadn't crossed the line past lingering touches or innuendos, but it was a given that he was the only person allowed in your bed. You didn't care for the croweaters at the parties his club put on every Friday night, but the two of you made a statement when he rolled up one night with you seated behind him.

The Sons nearly gaped as Happy amped up his protectiveness, pulling you between his parted thighs as he took a seat on a stool at the bar. Tig and Juice had walked over, and Happy perched you on his knee as you joked with his brothers. The croweaters didn't bother to hide their glares or sneers, but you merely smirked at their cattiness and took to scratching the back of Happy's head with your nails when you'd draped your arm around his shoulders.

"So, is this a thing?" Jax, the club president, had asked.

You shrugged and grinned. "We're friends."

"Friends don't stake claims."

"We're possessive friends."

Happy had snorted but didn't correct you.

From there on out, it was known that you were Happy's.

The Sons are relaxing at the clubhouse after a long day's work when blacked out Escalades and BMW's pull up. The atmosphere immediately goes from relaxed to tense, and the Sons flank their President when he walks out to the lot to see what the deal is.

Thug after thug exit the vehicles before opening the doors on two Escalades, ushering out four well-dressed men. None of them look like they'd be a person to fuck with, so Jax is extremely curious as to what the fuck is going on.

"Can I help you?" He asks, eyebrow arches as tattooed thugs flank the apparent important men.

"I hope you can." The one in charge reaches into his coat pocket, pulling out a picture. "What do you know about this woman?"

When Jax is shown a picture, he mentally curses. It's Happy's neighbor and a friend to many Sons. He keeps his expression neutral, before shrugging. "Nothing. Should I?"

"She's my baby sister."

"Oh hell…"

"YN never misses check-in and she's missed two," the man explains. "It's come to my attention that she's made some connections to Happy Lowman, Juan Ortiz, and Tig Trager- all Sons of Anarchy. Do you understand why I'm here now?"

"Fuck, man, we didn't know. What can we do?"

"You can start by questioning your men to see if they'd heard from her."

At that, Tig steps forward. "I haven't seen or spoken with YN in a little over a week."

"What about Juan or Happy?"

Jax looks at his gathered men, frowning. "Where are Juice and Happy?" No one says anything, looking as confused as their President when they don't see their familiar faces. Then raising his voice, he asks, "Has anyone heard from Happy or Juice today?" Nothing. No one utters a peep. "What about yesterday?"

"Jax." Opie has his phone to ear, shaking his head. "Both are going to voicemail."

"Shit." Then turning around to face the slowly darkening expressions of YN's apparent brothers, Jax asks, "How can we help?"

. .

When your eyes flutter open, every inch of your body is in pain.

"How the fuck does my hair hurt?" You groan. You try to sit up, but realize you're on your side, on dirt and hay, with your hands tied behind your back. "What the actual fuck?" Clearing your vision, you see that you're not alone. Happy and Juice are with you, but they're in chairs with their hands tied behind their backs and looking a little beat up.

"Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty," Juice tiredly muses.

"What happened?" Maneuvering around some, you manage to sit up.

"Kidnapped," Happy says. "They injected us with some shit, but they gave you too much."

You grimace as you roll your neck. "Dicks." It's dim in the empty barn you're being kept in, but you can see sunlight through the cracks of the walls. There are stalls for animals on either side of you, all empty, and a table filled with various blades and weapons not too far away. Your aching arms are your main priority though, so you move into a crouch and wiggle your tied wrists under your butt. With a grunt, you fall backward and maneuver your hands until they're situated in front of you. "Ah. That's better."

"Get up and grab a blade so we can get the fuck outta here," Happy urges.

You do as you're told, mentally scoffing at the thought that these morons didn't think to bind your ankles. Unfortunately, you're not so lucky as someone had been watching from the shadows. So just as you're reaching for a blade, that someone jumps out at you and roughly pins you against the table.

Bent over with your arms above your head and someone pressed up right against you, you immediately start thrashing and cussing out whoever it is. Happy and Juice shout, and start wriggling in their own seats when a hand then pins you to the table by the back of your neck.

"So close, princesa." A man tuts and you jerk in his hold, but still he persists. Laughter causes you to look up, watching as another two men step out from behind Happy and Juice. "Is that anyway to talk to your host?"

"Fuck. Off."

"Oh, I will." Just then, a hand grips your waist and squeezes, and you freeze. "Just not yet. I have some questions for you."

"Don't you fucking touch her."

When you glance up at Happy, there's a look on his face that you've never seen before. You know what he does for the Sons, but you'd never seen that particular dark look or glint in his eyes, and for a moment it steals your breath away. Then you remember that look isn't meant for you, and you squirm a little as the man behind you laughingly presses his pelvis into your ass. "Or what?"

Juice answers, "Or we'll fucking kill you."

That causes all three men to laugh some more.

"Doubtful. But thanks for the laugh." Then the man behind you focuses on you once again. "Besides, my business isn't with you, but with the princesa de la mafia."

You tense. "I don't know anything."

"Aw. Of course, you don't," the man coos. "I would hope that your brothers are smart enough to never let a woman in on their secrets. But then again, you are the baby sister of one of the most dangerous mafias in the United States. I'm pretty sure you know something that I can use to hurt those brothers of yours."

You manage to angle your head just enough so you can make eye contact with Happy. He meets your stare, and you see it subtly soften, but then he's glaring at the man holding you once more. "I won't sell out my brothers."

"No?" The man releases your neck, only to trail his fingers down from your ribs to hips. "I don't want to mess up such a pretty face, but you do know there are other ways to break you and get you to talk, right?"

And then before you can answer, he's grabbing the back hem of your shirt and ripping it down the middle.

You yelp just as Happy shouts, "You motherfucker!", and squirm to get away. Across from you, Happy and Juice are pummeled a few times until they stop trying to break the chairs they're bound to.

The man rubs a hand up and down your back, fiddling with your bra strap, but never unsnapping it. You feel gross, but it's only when the guy reaches around to fiddle with the button on your jeans does red cloud your vision.

"Hey, Hap?" You manage to meet Happy's livid gaze. "Remember when I spoke about my demons?"

"Yeah."

"They desperately wanna come out to play."

"Shut the fuck up, you whore!" The man slaps you across the back of your head and you grit your teeth, biding your time.

Happy slowly smirks. "Then let them out to play, baby."

The moment the button on your jeans is opened, you scream at a pitch that startles every man in the room. Then pushing up as much as you can, you headbutt the man behind you. As he swears, you reach for the first handle you see and are pleasantly surprised to find a small machete. Then without even thinking, you whirl around and swing the blade, catching your would-be abuser in the neck with the blade.

Blood sprays as you immediately tug the blade free, leaving the man to try and cover his wound as he splutters on his own life force. From the corner of your eye, you see someone running at you, but another swing of the machete finds a home in the second man's face.

As the man falls back with a scream unlike anything you've ever heard, he takes the machete with him. Happy and Juice shout at you, and it's then you remember the third. He's running at you, a small blade in hand, and you reach for the nearest weapon. It's a metal bat and just as you rear back to swing, he swings first. The blade makes contact with your bicep, slicing it open, but you only feel the sting of it after you swing.

The bat clips the man in the jaw, stunning him. As he stumbles back, you advance. He sloppily swipes at you again, but you dodge it. The second hit with the bat hits true, catching him in the temple.

The man falls and you're quick to stand over him, bringing the bat down a third time.

The bat connecting for a fourth time makes Juice cringe, but Happy proudly watches on.

Thwack.

Thwack. A scream.

Crack!

"Shit. I think that was his skull," Juice mutters.

YN screams as she continues to wail on the man with her bat, caving his skull further and further in, to the point there's now a puddle of blood beneath his head and splattering with every pull back.

The barn doors open, and Happy and Juice tense when armed men start to file in, but they exhale with relief when they see Jax, Tig, Chibs, and Opie in the mix. All the unfamiliar men take in the scene with an air of indifference, but it's the expressions of the Sons that almost make Happy laugh out loud. They'd only known YN to laugh, feed them, or threaten the croweaters with violence. None of them, with the exception of himself, Juice, and Tig, knew the violence she was capable of.

"Uh, a little help?" Juice calls out. "My arms are killing me over here."

Tig rushes over, pulling out a blade to cut his brothers free. "What the fuck happened?"

"One of them threatened to rape her and she just lost her shit."

Juice is cut free first, and he immediately stands, rubbing his raw wrists. As Jax checks in with him, Happy is cut free.

"Boss, should we stop this?" Someone asks.

Happy looks over in time to see a guy in a suit grimace when blood is flung onto his pristine boots. "Do you want to get in the middle of that? You know how YN is. Let's just let her run out of steam."

As the guy steps back in line with a nod of agreement, Happy huffs and stands. He stalks over to YN until he's behind her. Then when she raises the bat high above her head, Happy lunges. He manages to grip the bat where it isn't slick and pulls it from YN's grasp.

Still very much livid, especially now that your weapon's been ripped from you, you whirl around to start screaming expletives and pummel whoever it is with your bound fists. Instead, arms are wrapped around you, keeping your arms stuck between your chest and another, and there's a gruff voice in your ear saying, "It's over. It's over, baby. The cavalry's here. You can stop now."

It takes a long minute for the voice to infiltrate the fog of rage, and then a moment to realize who's speaking.

When your struggles cease, Happy leans back a little to look down at you, but with his arms still wrapped around you. "You back?"

"Y-Yeah. M'sorry."

Happy grunts and leans his face closer to yours, and for a moment you think he's about to kiss you. Instead, he presses his forehead against yours as his eyes close, and he exhales with relief. "Don't be. That was hot as fuck."

You huff a quiet laugh as a bout of silence ensues, but then one of your brothers decides to ruin it.

"Hey, Lowman, we'll give you a million dollars if you give her your last name and take her off our hands."

You jerk in Happy's hold, turning to glare at all your smirking brothers. "Fuck off!" Laughter ensues at your disgruntled expression before Juice fills them in on what happened, and then Happy is tugging on your bound wrists so you look back at him before finally cutting you free. "Thank you."

One hand grasps the hair at the back of your head, gripping a little tight as he holds you in place so he can press a kiss to your forehead. "Let's get you home. You're covered in blood, and I need to take a look at your arm."

Glancing at your arm, you shrug. It stings, yeah, but it doesn't seem deep enough. And then just as you go to take a step, Happy swoops you up into a bridal carry.

It's then you notice that you, Happy, and Juice are all barefoot, and it's Juice who answers your unasked question. "You sleep like the dead, girl. Happy and I heard them enter the house, but they still managed to get the drop on us."

"I'm getting you a goddamn dog," Happy grumbles in response.

"Only if you clean up after it." He grunts and you grin. If he wanted a guard dog for you, then he was cleaning up any messes.

Outside the barn, suggestions are made about where to go now. Jax suggests the clubhouse, but at the wrinkling of your nose, Happy says you'll be going home. Your brothers mention not everyone can go because that many vehicles will draw attention, so Jax suggests sending your brothers' men back to the club with Opie and Chibs. They agree, and then you're loaded up into an Escalade with your brothers and Happy.

When you get to your house, Tig mentions that they had cleaned up and straightened your furniture after they figured out what had happened. You thank him and let Happy carry you to your bathroom while Juice takes the guest bathroom.

As Happy sets you on the counter, you watch as he gets the first aid kit from beneath your sinks. "They're gonna talk."

"Let them. The club already thinks we're fuckin'."

You snort. "Please. They should know by now that I'd never settle for a relationship where the guy gets to fuck around when he's on the road." Happy freezes with the antiseptic spray bottle in his hand before shaking himself free of thought and spritzing your arm where you were cut.

"Is that why you haven't given me the go-ahead to slip between your thighs?"

You smile at his blunt question and then wince when he wipes your arm clean. "Pretty much. I'm not a fan of my partner sticking his dick or tongue in some rando pussy, then coming home and doing the same to me." Happy grunts and you arch an eyebrow at him. "Would you be okay with me visiting my brothers and sucking someone's dick before coming home to you?"

"Fuck no."

"Exactly." You grin triumphantly. "So, unless you plan to stop dicking down croweaters or sweetbutts, the most you'll get out of me is some cuddling."

Stepping back, Happy tosses the used gauze pads into the trashcan and then reaches into your shower stall to turn on the water. Then looking at you, he demands, "Strip."

"If I fully strip, there's no going back. You're mine and mine alone." You hop off the counter, slipping off your ruined shirt without batting an eye. "I was calm and collected at your parties before because we're friends, but that all changes after this. I won't take it easy on any woman touching what's mine."

Happy smirks as he eyes you in your bra and jeans, and then strips off his shirt. "Good."

You've seen the man shirtless only a handful of times, but seeing his ink never fails to give you pause. You reach out for the first time, tracing the snake tattoo that takes up a majority of his chest and upper abdomen, before you trace the various happy faces on the side of his waist. You feel his abdominal muscles twitch and then between one heartbeat and the next, Happy's crowding you against the sink counter and angling your head up.

His kiss is as aggressive as you figured it'd be, his tongue sliding against yours and teeth digging into your bottom lip. You give as good as you get, nails digging into either side of Happy's waist as you kiss him. Then when the need for air arises, you pull back and try to catch your breath. "Well okay then."

Moving out from Happy's reach, you strip, uncaring of your nudity and then step into the steaming shower. Happy isn't too far behind you, but you're not too interested in seeing him fully naked as you are cleansing a stranger's blood from your body. Standing under the waterfall, you watch as the shower floor turns red. Happy presses in close behind you so he's under the water as well, and you straighten up before leaning your head back onto his shoulder, smiling softly at his hardness that presses against your ass.

"No funny business, Lowman. At least not until we've eaten a fuck ton and slept for a day or two."

He grunts. "Agreed."

You immediately start washing your hair, and you're surprised when Happy takes it upon himself to lather up some soap on your bath pouf to wash your body. For the most part he behaves himself, but when his thumb oh so casually brushes over your nipples, you slap his thigh and pay him back when it's your turn to wash him. He grunts when you take his dick in hand and thrusts into your soapy palm, but you quickly release him to finish washing his body.

"Fuckin' tease."

"You started it."

You get out of the shower first, smirking as Happy tells you he'll be out in a moment. You know exactly what that moment's going to entail since his hand is already stroking his cock before you can even find a towel.

"You gonna want something to eat?"

"Send Tig to get burgers and fries."

"Alright."

Back in your room, you can hear a muttered conversation from somewhere in your house. Clutching the towel around your body, you stick your head out your door. "Tig!"

"What?"

"Happy said to go get us some burgers, fries, and Cokes!"

"Do I look like a fuckin' maid?!" Tig appears in the hall, hands on his hips.

You grin at him. "No, but I do have a maid's costume. Wanna try it on?" Tig gapes and you laugh at his expression. "Come on, Tig. Please? You can grab some cash from the junk drawer."

"Fine. But only because I know Hap will murder me if I don't, not because I'm picturing you in a teeny tiny maid's outfit."

"Sure, buddy. Thank you!"

Tig grumbles as he turns to march out of your house and then you worry about getting dressed. You dress in nothing but a sports bra and boy short underwear, and then with a reluctant sigh you head to the front. Everyone's in your kitchen, sitting around your table, and your brothers groan when they see how little you're wearing.

"Oh, shut up. You've seen me in clothes like this before."

"In tights, not underwear," one brother grumbles.

"Just be glad they're boy shorts and not a g-string."

All your brothers groan yet again whereas the Sons find the interaction amusing. You take a seat at the table, grimacing a little and touching at your raw wrists.

"Let me get that for you," Juice says. He leaves to, no doubt, grab the first aid kit from the bathroom. Then taking a seat next to you, he asks, "Did Hap disinfect your arm?"

"Yeah. Just spritz it again and wrap it. It'll be fine."

As soon as Juice gets to work, Happy enters the kitchen in nothing but a pair of jeans hanging off his hips.

"Jesus," one of your brother's mumbles. "Are people suddenly allergic to clothes around here?"

You grin as Jax arches an eyebrow at his friend. "You have clothes here?" Happy nods and sits, and you quickly introduce him to your brothers while Jax looks at Juice to say, "You seem to know your way around this place too."

"It's because they practically live here when they're not at the clubhouse," you say. "Hap's moved his shit in my room, and Tig and Juice have slowly taken over my guest room." Then glancing at your brothers as if you didn't just drop somewhat of a bombshell on Jax, you ask, "So what the hell happened?"

Juice taps above one of your raw wrists and you situate them so he can disinfect them.

Your eldest brother meets your gaze. "There's a new family in town- Jimenez. They're trying to make a name for themselves and thought they could intimidate us." You scoff as your other brother's chuckle. "When they didn't get the reaction they were looking for, they came up with the bright idea to target the weak link. They thought they had the perfect candidate when they found out we had a baby sister."

"Joke's on them, you're fuckin' psycho," another brother muses.

"I'm not-"

"We literally walked in on you bashing a guy's head in."

"And let's not forget the whole reason you're in Charming is because you tried to burn down your ex's house while he was still inside."

"Or that one time you wrecked your car into that other girl's car all because she broke your friend's heart."

"That cunt cheated on him. She deserved every bit of karma I dished out."

Jax snorts, shaking his head. "Christ. You and Hap are gonna be a pain in my ass."

"You know it."

Tig shows up just after Juice is finished with your wrists. Juice then dishes out the food to you, Happy, and himself, and you get up to grab drinks from the fridge. As you settle back down, Jax and your brothers watch in surprise at how the three of you go to town on your provided meals.

"So, what exactly does one do as a mafia princess?" Jax wonders.

Chewing the food in your mouth, you only answer him after taking a drink of your soda. "I'm the family hacker. If they need a computer hacked into to gather information or scrub information, I get called in."

"So, in other words, you're female Juice," Tig says.

You laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, I am." Juice grins and you reach over to fist bump him.

You continue eating as Jax speaks with your brothers, listening as this small portion of the Sons of Anarchy are filled in about what business your family gets up to. When you're finished eating, you stand and start gathering up the trash to toss. While you're up, you grab yourself a glass of water and some Ibuprofen. Then after downing four pills, you head back to reclaim your seat at the table, only for Happy to gently grab you by the arm and tug you down onto his thigh.

Your brothers don't care about your new chair, but Jax, Juice, and Tig can't help but raise an eyebrow.

"So, is this a thing?" Jax wonders, gesturing between you and Happy.

As you drape an arm behind Happy's shoulders to settle more against him, you smirk. "What's the matter, Teller? Scared?"

He huffs and then stares at Happy, but the man beneath you merely says, "Gonna start drawing up a crow. Does that answer your question?"

The kitchen goes eerily quiet and then…

"Holy shit. Hap's actually gonna take a woman," Juice says in awe.

"This is a momentous occasion. We gotta throw a rager." The glint in Tig's eyes has you narrowing your own eyes at him.

"You just wanna see a girl fight. Don't you?"

"Hap's been possessive of you since you first showed up to the clubhouse, but now that you're staking a claim, the thought might have crossed my mind."

"Are you sure you wanna see that?" One of your brother muses. "YN might traumatize a few poor souls."

Tig smiles. "I look forward to it."

You roll your eyes at Tig's excitement about possibly seeing you fight and your brothers chuckle. The Sons really had no idea what they were in for when someone tested your patience.

Standing, you keep a hand on Happy's shoulder as you say, "Well as much as I love, like, and appreciate all of you, you need to go. I'm exhausted and I still need to sleep off whatever I was drugged with."

Jax grins. "Is that code for us to get the hell out so you can bang Happy's brains out?"

Snorting, you shake your head as your brothers all grimace. "No. I'm seriously exhausted. The fucking will come later after we're well rested. I have a feeling I'm gonna need loads of energy for Hap."

Your brothers all make noises of disgust as they stand, and you take a moment to hug and kiss each of their cheeks on their way out. You promise to call when you're feeling better and then you're ushering the Sons out as well.

Locking up after everyone has left, you head to your room where you find Happy stripping off his jeans. He's in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs as he pulls your blanket back before sliding under and you pad over to do the same. You meet him in the middle, laying on your side as you drape one arm over his abdomen. With your head on his arm, you snuggle closer and Happy reaches for your leg to have it draped over his thigh so you're as close as can be without actually laying on top of him.

"Were you serious? About the crow?" You ask right before you drift off.

"Does that freak you out?"

"Not really. But if I get your mark, you're getting mine."

Happy huffs. "And just what is your mark?"

"My lips and name." You run your hand across his abdomen before walking your fingers down to one of the few empty patches of skin, below his belly button and right beneath where the snake's tail curls. "Right here."

"Above my dick, you mean?"

"Mhmm."

Happy grunts and then squeezes you a little tighter to him. "We'll see, princess. Now get some sleep."

#happy lowman imagine #happy lowman x reader #happy imagine #happy x reader #sons of anarchy imagine #soa imagine #happy lowman #juice ortiz #tig trager #jax teller #dark romance

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0wlettie · 6 days ago

Text

⏾⋆.˚─── caleb x fem!reader

⏾⋆.˚─── synopsis: lonely and feeling ridiculously horny because of your period, you decide to pass the time as you wait for caleb to come back. you're expecting your cycle to be finished when he does, so you have no issue with taking care of yourself. in his bed. but, he unexpectedly comes back early and catches you in the act...

⏾⋆.˚─── tags: 13.4k, gege usage, heavy talk of periods/sexual activity while on a period, like seriously i go into heavy detail so if you're uncomfy w/that kinda stuff i'd definitely skip this one, down bad reader, like super down bad reader, light angst, porn-without-plot, frottage, masturbation (reader), multiple orgasms, blood, like, i'm so serious there's a lot of blood in this fic, you've been warned, D/s dynamics, under-negotiated kink, light degradation, pet names (baby, pipsqueak), soft!caleb, but he's still wild af so there are some choice lines here, tbh reader is wild af too, they're both incredibly weird about one another, inappropriate evol usage, kissing, just so many kisses in this, crying (but make it sexy), this has a lot of feelings in it and i'm not at all sorry for it, fingerfucking, overstimulation, dirty talk, period sex, unprotected sex

⏾⋆.˚─── ao3 if you prefer ;)

⏾⋆.˚─── a/n: i'm so serious ya'll this is just absolutely disgusting filth that came to me during my own cycle, high as shit and way too horny for my own good. that combined with the one sc of this recent period sex fic with sylus…the thought in my head grew even LOUDER so yea, here this is. if it's not your cup of tea then please, by all means skip because i'm so serious, this is like, so fucking nasty and unhinged it's embarrassing. i'm warning you please heed the tags this is a lot ;;; title derived from Nasty by Tinashe because duh lol Minors Do Not Interact (ageless blogs who follow will be blocked without hesitation)

Being mindful of your period dates never came easy to you. Your particular cycle is pretty regular, but you have so many things going on in your head that those dates are pushed to the far, far back of your thoughts. Until you wake up one morning and you find yourself recreating a horrific murder scene underneath your sheets. Except in this instance, you were wide awake when you felt the inside of your underwear begin to stick to your skin. You’re just lucky you were able to get up before you inevitably stained the sheets.

Your stomach spasms, and you hiss as you curl up on your side, burying yourself into the dark brown comforter you're currently wrapped in. Your hands rub and squeeze the pudge of your belly, trying in vain to soothe the cramps currently attacking you. But they don’t do a thing to help, and you’re forced to curl up even tighter, digging your knees into your chest. This is the absolute worst and you wish you could just make it stop with your thoughts alone.

‘Maybe I should get a tracker? Or have it in my calendar?’ You let out a shaky sigh, fingers digging into the red and black pajama pants covering your legs. ‘Or maybe I should tell gege to remind me.’ The thought makes you wheeze out a laugh, groaning in pain when your uterus internally fists your guts—and not in the fun way. ‘Well, at least he’s out on a sudden mission. I should be done by the time he comes back.’ You think wryly, wincing when another sharp pain stabs through your abdomen. You were supposed to spend your vacation with Caleb, but right when you made it to Skyhaven, something urgent came up. He had just enough time to take you to his home before he set off for whatever Farspace Fleet mission he had to complete.

You’ve come to learn that answering your texts or returning your calls was always fifty-fifty when he was out on a job, so you’ve had very minimal contact with him since. Three days have passed without much of anything from him, and in the cold and empty apartment left behind, your only solace is his bedroom. With a king sized mattress and state of the art window dimmers, it resembles more of a cave after you make yourself comfortable. Presumptuous of you and certainly rude, but you honestly don’t care. You missed your gege, and now that he was back in your life, you couldn’t bring yourself to stay away; even if it meant crossing some boundaries.

You glance down at the hoodie and sweats you’re wearing. Even the boxers you have on now are his—lined with a thick pad in case you leaked around your tampon before you could get to the toilet. It’d be fine for the hoodie. But wearing his underwear and pants, while on your cycle? Risking staining his clothes with your blood? That was a level of strange you never thought you’d fall to, but here you are now; wearing his clothes while you wait for him to return from his top secret Colonel mission that he's not allowed to tell you about. You’re thankful you’ve got plenty of time to spare this visit—especially since this will technically be the first time you’ve stayed over since you reunited.

Your boss had actually forced you to take a couple of weeks off. You’re a bit of a workaholic, and with your job as a pencil pusher for the Hunter Association, that means that you’re constantly busy. There’s a ridiculous amount of paperwork involved with Hunters—property damage, travel costs, medical insurance files, new weapons costs, uniform costs, and the list goes on and on. It doesn’t help that you have no life outside of work, either. The few friends you have from college are now married and have whole families and careers to worry about. You can’t even remember the last time you saw them.

Your only focus was work—even more so in the months after losing Caleb. No family and no friends, you spiraled into the one constant in your life. You never went home, falling asleep at your desk far more times than you can remember. You used the free access to the Hunter training gym to shower, and used the cafeteria and vending machines to eat and drink. Toughed out the worst of your periods with nothing but work driving you. And because your department was so understaffed, no one batted an eyelash and allowed you to continue your unhealthy working habits.

And you probably would have done so for the rest of your miserable life too, if not for Caleb's sudden reappearance. Adorned with a new uniform, a new title, and a somewhat colder personality than you were used to, it shocked you so bad that you had no choice but to take some time off to figure out what the hell was going on. He still hasn’t fully explained to you what happened either, despite your many questions. Has just given you bare bones explanations to your blatant prodding; unsubtly changing the subject when he couldn’t say more. You wanted to be angry, and at first you were so fucking furious that you honestly didn’t know what to do with yourself. But that morphed into a desperate sort of joy after thinking it over for a couple of days. You could stay mad at him; avoiding his calls and texts, not answering your door, etc. Or, you could accept that you might never find out the truth and allow Caleb back into your life again. Allow your gege to come back like how you’ve wished him to in the countless sleepless nights you’ve had since the accident.

It was an easy choice after that.

Gradually, your life became less and less about work, and more about reconnecting with Caleb. And gradually, you began to revert back to the person you used to be. Your department also hired more people to help lighten the workloads, which led to an investigation into the crazy amount of overtime your department had accrued, which leads you here now a month after Caleb’s reappearance; four weeks of paid vacation with orders to use it all, because you still had at least three more to take before the end of the year.

And what better way to spend that vacation with the one you loved most?

‘It would've been nice if I remembered my period dates, though. I only have a few stray tampons in my bag, and this is the last backup pad in the pack I bought. I would order stuff, but I don’t even know if I can make it to the bathroom, let alone all the way to the front door. Can OTTO pick it up for me, maybe? Or maybe the lil robot will give me another one of those excuses not too.’ You groan into the pillow your face is buried in; squeezing your eyes shut when that tight fist in your belly tightens and twists. You want to scream, but frankly, you’re so tired that you can’t muster up the energy. It’s been a while since you’ve had to deal with this level of pain, and it was only the beginning of day two. Sure, you had the occasional bad cramp or your pussy ached every time you got up and moved, but that was usually between the third and fourth day. Maybe the stress had affected you somehow? Or maybe it was your diet? Whatever the case, it leaves you damn near immobile as you lay in Caleb’s bed.

You’ve got something random playing on your laptop behind you, and you let your thoughts drift as the pain in your abdomen ebbs and flows. Wrapped in your gege’s clothes, lying on his bed, drowning in his familiar and comforting scent, and knowing that he’s coming back to you lulls you into a light doze. The pain turns into a background sensation to you, blurring your perception of time until it becomes unrecognizable. You don’t know how long you spend in that state, only that you’re suddenly jolted up by the familiar pulse of heat that flares up in your cunt.

You fly up and out of the bed, windmilling to try and save you from tripping over the covers when you nearly faceplant. You hop around until you’re free, racing off to the bathroom once your bare feet hit the floor. You continuously chant inside of your mind to ‘please don’t leak, please don’t leak, please—’ all the way until you pull your pants down and sit on the toilet.

Five minutes later, you’re rewrapping yourself in the covers, with a fresh tampon and only the smallest of dots of blood on your pad. Your laptop is playing still, but this time you face it, taking in the time. 9:41 p.m. Later than you expected, but that also isn’t very surprising either. You readjust the laptop and settle into the covers.

You pull up the hood around your ears, taking in a big breath of the remnants of Caleb’s cologne and laundry detergent found in the soft cotton. Your body instantly relaxes, a sense of warmth and comfort overtaking you. Eyes glazing over, you snuggle deeper into the covers, rubbing your feet against the smooth fabric. The leg on the pants you’re wearing shifts after your leg moves, pulling down awkwardly and rubbing the seam on the crotch directly against your clit. Your hips jerk forward instinctively, causing the seam to brush against you again.

The warmth and comfort from before grows sweeter, almost. Slow and syrupy, a different sort of heat builds up beneath your skin. The breath you let out is weak, turning into a ragged moan when you move your hips again. A hazy fog settles over your mind as you grind your pussy into the coarse fabric of your gege’s sleep pants. Even if the pad and feeling of your tampon reminds you of the awful mess going on in between your legs, you find that the continuous gush of your slick and blood turns you on more. It mixes with the pain, making everything all the more intense for your mind to take in.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” You mumble out, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you desperately swivel your hips. One hard grind has the tampon in you shifting, and you bite into the fabric of the hoodie pressed against your face when a sharp burst of pleasure tightens that coil forming in your lower gut. You move to try and hit that angle again, but you can’t seem to find that exact spot. You whine, furrowing your brows as a piercing ache travels up from your cunt, shivering when you rub against your clit so hard it sends sparks traveling down your spine.

But it’s not enough. None of it is enough for you.

You try to move faster, rubbing harder against the cloth but nothing seems to work. You’re teetering along that thin ledge, so close yet so far from reaching the peak you crave. It’s enough to make the tears blurring your vision fall, a helpless sort of feeling welling up beneath your ribcage. You can’t bring yourself to reach down and slip your fingers beneath the layers covering your lower half. The thought of it embarrasses you too much. So you’re forced to grind against the cloth covering you, like some desperate and feral thing, fuzzy-brained and moving on the pure instinct to feel good. It’s as humiliating as it is arousing, so despite the flush coloring your face, you continue your movements. You breathe in when more wetness gushes from your cunt, eyes rolling into the back of your head when more of your gege’s scent filters in through your nose. The mental blur suddenly sharpens, and you have a crystal clear image of your gege in your mind.

‘Caleb.’

You can picture the look he’d give you if he realized what you were going through; the slant of his brows concerned, a sympathetic light in his eyes as his mouth curls into a little frown. He’s helped you before, during the worst of your cycles. Holding you within the warm cradle of his arms, playing with the strands of your hair and talking you through the worst of your pain, rubbing a soothing hand over your soft tummy when the cramps made you tear up and cry out for his help. Another part of you wonders how he’d look at you now, with you frantically humping the fabric of his pants; desperate and needy for the sudden urges flooding your mind. It excites you even more, trying to picture his reaction, what he could possibly do to you when you’re so vulnerable.

“Gege…” You don’t even realize you’ve spoken, memories of Caleb blurring your shaky vision. Like how big he felt wrapped around you, his chest pressed to your back while his palms slowly rubbed your stomach. The rough pound of his heartbeat as you felt it through the thinness of his shirt, his breaths quiet and warm as they puffed against the skin of your neck. New images branch off from the memories rolling through your head—little ‘what if’ moments that feed off the darker parts of your thoughts. They flick through your thoughts like a slideshow, showing you what you’ve been craving ever since you realized the true scope of your feelings towards your gege.

The heat burning you from the inside out grows hotter, the noises from your throat loud and pathetic even to your own ears as you helplessly grind back and forth, flashes of Caleb spurring you on. Fantasies of yours that haunt you no matter the time of day. Of his hands and the way they’d easily sink into the flesh of your hips. Of his lips and how they would plant messy, open mouthed kisses down the column of your neck. Of the deep cadence of his voice, whispering all kinds of dirty things in your ear as he toyed with the sensitive bud of your clit. Of his strong arms and how easily they’d hold you down to the bed, the heavy press of his body keeping you trapped underneath him as he bucked against you. The snap of his hips as they’d meet the backs of your thighs, the loud and obscene sounds mingling with the wet gush of your cunt; the tip of his cock railing you so deep that you’d be screaming—

“Fuck, gege, please—!” You choke when your orgasm sneaks up on you, legs snapping closed and spine arching so deeply that you feel a muscle in your back jump. Your entire body trembles from the aftershocks, mind whiting out completely as your brain fries from the intensity. A long string of drool slides down your chin as your eyes stare blankly ahead, chest heaving from the rough breaths you intake. Phantom touches to your hips and thighs make your hips jerk as another gush of fluid seeps through the tampon, and you let loose a loud groan.

You’re expecting the fire in your veins to calm, but if anything, the frenzy gets even hotter. You don’t feel satisfied in the slightest, and a sob builds in your throat when you realize that fact. The way your cunt aches with the need to be filled; the raw desire to have your gege buried inside of you, shaft covered in a mix of your cum and blood. You feel dirty just thinking about it, but that feeling doesn’t stop you from jerkily reaching out to snag a nearby pillow. You quickly drag it within the tight cocoon wrapped around you, stuffing it in between your thighs. The first grind against it has you sobbing, the tears returning to blur your vision as you flip yourself to rest on your stomach.

You squeeze your legs together when you feel a particularly wet rush of something slide onto your pad. You push your face harder into the pillow, moaning loudly when you buck your hips forward. You can feel a definitive wetness stick to your cunt after moving, the dizzying mix of shame and arousal spreading through your veins like liquid magma. Your knees sink into the soft bedding as you spread them, one of your hands cupping your tit as the other slightly holds you up.

The pain of your cramps is long gone, replaced with the itch of arousal that refuses to go away. No matter how many times you try to work yourself over, you can’t pass that peak again. It leaves you crying desperately into the pillow, its surface soaked from your tears and drool. Your thighs are completely sticky and gross, the fabric of his boxers sticking to the half-dry fluids staining your skin. Sensitive and shaky, you’re no closer to finishing than you were what feels like ages ago at this point. You need more than just fantasies, now. Flesh against flesh, breath against breath. You need him to help you, to drive away that burning itch that drives you insane with need and want. You need Caleb—you need your gege.

“Caleb, gege, need you so bad. Please, please need you…!” You whine, your words garbled from behind the pillow in your face. Your hand plays with the heavy sag of your tit, rolling the hard bud of your nipple as you rut against the pillow wedged between your thighs. You can’t stop your fantasies from returning, the images of Caleb touching you, of him kissing you, of him finding his way home in the tight clutch of your cunt. You can feel yourself leak through the layers of Caleb’s bottoms as you breathe in his scent again, a sick sense of pleasure lighting you up from the inside. You feel like such a creep, using his clothes, his underwear, his bed as a tool to help you jerk off. But it also gets you so hot and bothered that you can’t stop even if you wanted to. The thought of marking up his stuff with the scent of you, with your blood, your cum and spit and tears; all of it tips you closer and closer to the edge. No matter how guilty and dirty it makes you feel, you begin to rush towards that end faster and faster.

So lost in yourself, you don’t hear the distant ‘click’ of a door opening. Nor do you hear the sharp clap of shoes against tile, the sound growing louder and closer as you continue your frantic movements. It’s only when you’re reaching the end of your desperate chase, your pussy tightening around the tampon inside of you and the buildup of your orgasm cresting, do you realize that the door to Caleb’s room is open and the lights are being clicked on. You have no time to react, your eyes rolling into the back of your head when you finally reach the end.

“Gege!” You moan into the pillow underneath you, thighs twitching erratically around the pillow in between them. Your arm gives out on you then, and your entire body slumps forward to fall flat on the bed. A cracked whimper falls from your lips, hips kicking forward when the movement draws a weak spurt of something to slip down one of your thighs. It’s deathly silent for what feels like an eternity as your body shakes and your mind returns to you. You could say that you were finally done—that being caught in the act of jerking off in your gege’s bed has sufficiently killed off any traces of arousal, but you’d be a fat fucking liar if you did. You can feel the barest of traces of those nagging embers, smouldering quietly within the aching pit of your stomach.

“...Welcome back, gege.” You croak out after turning your head to the side, seeing Caleb still dressed in his fleet uniform. You think it’s the exhaustion that’s making this a lot easier for you to handle. That and the rush of endorphins in the aftermath of your second orgasm. Otherwise, you don’t think you could’ve looked Caleb’s way at all, wrapped in his comforter and looking like a debauched mess on his bed. Your chest heaves for breath as you watch his painfully still form, the angle of his uniform cap hiding his eyes from you. All you can see is the tight pink line of his mouth, teeth clenching so hard that you can spot a vein throbbing at the edge of his jaw. Your breath catches and you hate yourself a little more when you realize that this side of Caleb is getting you hot all over again.

“Welcome…back.” He echoes your words back, an incredulous kind of deadpan to them that would be funny in any other context. The coldness of his tone combined with the rigidness of his body spells nothing but trouble for you, your cunt fluttering around the tampon inside of you. Ignoring the sudden need to grind into the pillow still held by your trembling thighs, you sit up using your arms. Shakily, you attempt to get into a sitting position, but when moving causes a thin trickle of the mess in your bottoms to seep into the blanket, you freeze. You’re left in an awkward position, half-balancing on your spread knees; hair askew and face sticky with tears and drool.

“...welcome back, huh.” He laughs underneath his breath, darkly unamused. You open your mouth to try and explain yourself, though you don’t even know how you would, when you pause. Caleb reaches up to take off his hat, carelessly tossing it aside with one hand while the other begins undoing his uniform coat. Your mouth goes dry when he stalks forward, both hands now joining in on undressing him. Each article of clothing is thrown to the ground, leaving a trail from his bedroom door all the way to his bed, until he’s clad in nothing but his uniform pants and a plain white tank.

Your eyes dart across the broadness of his shoulders, tracing along the defined lines of his biceps and veiny forearms; the sharpness of his collarbones and the chain that glimmers against them. You’re so distracted by staring at him that you nearly miss his words.

“Alright, time to get up!” His smile is wide, voice oddly chipper; a complete one-eighty from his previous mood. But you aren’t fooled by his faux cheer in the slightest. You can see the lingering heat swirling within his eyes, the barely there threat lurking around the curve of his smile.

“Huh?” You stare up at him, visibly confused and a little uncertain—the high quickly losing its potency and your mind coming back to you fully. He doesn’t blink as he meets your stare, that smile on his face getting the slightest bit wider.

“You’re lookin’ a little sweaty there, so I figured maybe you’re a little hot underneath the covers. Unwrapping yourself seems like a good first step, right? So c’mon, up you get.”

You swallow when you get what he’s telling you, but your legs refuse to cooperate. They feel like they’re made out of jelly, the way they shake beneath the mean look in your gege’s eyes. Your gege who’s usually so kind and sweet to you seems anything but right now, clearly teasing you in your obvious flustered state. Not to mention, the blanket is hiding the disgusting mess you’ve made of his things. You know he’s going to find out anyway, but a part of you just can’t be the one to reveal how much of a pervert you are. Your shame, your desire, your pain—all of it whirs through your head, warring with one another and causing your hesitation. Your shaky and stiff limbs. The quiet rings out for a few moments as you helplessly look at him, the words stuck behind your teeth. Caleb thoughtfully hums, cocking his head to the side—like he’s thinking really hard on your silence. You both know why you can’t speak, it’s clear he can read it in your expression, but he still waits until you're squirming before he gives you an out. An out that’s accompanied by a truly patronizing look on his face.

“Ah, I see. I think I understand, you must need gege’s help getting up, right?” He sounds as if he’s talking to a small child; that lilting coo of his voice oozing condescension. Your mind goes blank when he leans forward, his eyes staring down at you, soft and cruel all at once. You feel small all of sudden. Too small to carry all of the different thoughts muddying up your mind. Too small to focus on difficult to explain emotions and urges. Too small to do anything but listen to your gege Caleb. You slowly nod as a subtle haze takes over your mind, and he takes that as blanket permission to reach out.

“Don’t worry, baby. Gege’s here to make everything okay again.” Slowly and watching you carefully, he untangles the blanket from around your body. You’re looking back at him as the fabric slides off and away from your shoulder, so you get a front row seat to the exact moment he catches sight of your lower half. His face goes through rapid-fire changes, too quick for you to catch. But the one he settles on makes your belly go warm, your heartbeat stuttering harshly. Helplessly fond, his lips drop into a more comfortable looking half-smile. A genuinely sweet affection lights up his eyes, momentarily encapsulating the dark look from before.

You flush so hard that you get dizzy from the rush of blood. Why is he looking at you like that? You can’t take it, not when you’re absolutely covered in dried blood, cum, spit and tears.

“That’s why you’re so upset then, hm? You had an accident while playing in gege’s bed?”

“Caleb!” You get a reprimand in the sound of his teeth kissing the back of his tongue. You whine out a soft ‘gege’ and you're comforted by his warm hand cupping your cheek, thumb rubbing against the hottest part of your soft skin.

“There’s nothin’ to be embarrassed about, you know. Accidents happen sometimes, and you’ve always been a messy girl, even when you try not to be.” He smiles when you shake your head furiously. You open your mouth to show him just how much you disagree with that statement, but you’re stopped when he lightly pats your cheek.

“How about we get you all cleaned up first. You can’t be very comfy covered in all that blood.” Before you can agree or disagree, though, he easily picks you up. You stare, wide eyed, as he carries you bridal style to the bathroom; uncaring about the blood rubbing off onto his shirt and bare skin from touching the inside of the blanket. Like he has no issue with your period blood staining the color of his skin, like you just haven’t seen him be grossed out by less egregious things like wasabi-flavored marshmallows. You think you black out for a moment from the whirlwind of emotions flooding your brain, because the next thing you know, you’re standing on your feet while Caleb starts the shower for you. You blankly stare at his back before you notice something in the corner of your eyes. A second pair of clothes and the last of your tampons sits on the sink, and notably, they’re his clothes rather than yours. Embarrassed doesn’t even begin to cover how you feel, and your eyes dart up and away because of it. You meet your own gaze in the mirror above the porcelain bowl in your haste.

There really is no hiding what you were up to, not when your face still reads like you’ve been railed within an inch of your life, eyes glossy and lips bitten red. You watch as your cheeks grow a deeper pink in real time, and you quickly focus on something else when it grows to be too much. You glance at your lower half, flicking between the heavy black swath trailing up the middle of the crotch to the wet droplets pooling underneath your feet. ‘You had an accident while laying in gege’s bed?’ ‘You’ve always been a messy girl.’ Oh you’re going fucking crazy replaying those lines in your head. It feels as if your face is on fire from how hot his voice gets you; how dirty you felt when he called you messy.

Your attention shifts to Caleb when the abrupt sound of water bouncing off tile startles you. Eyes drawn to the hunch of his shoulders, you follow the bunch and flex of his traps and deltoids as he adjusts the water temp. Your pussy throbs as your eyes trail down the curve of his spine, tracing over every dip and bulge you can see underneath his tank and pants. His feet are bare, and you idly wonder when he got rid of his socks before the sharp echo of his voice snaps you out of your daze.

“Water’s ready. I’m gonna bring in some fresh towels after you hop in, forgot to replace ‘em before I left.” He’s fully facing you now, so you’re able to see the direct aftermath of him carrying you. You feel as if you’re about to combust from the heat boiling beneath your skin, your mouth suddenly filled with so much saliva that you have to swallow. Knowing and seeing are two different things, that’s clear to you when you feel absolutely unhinged at the wild picture Caleb makes.

His hands are streaked with blood all the way up to his forearm, some of the lines rubbing off a watery pink from the shower. The entire lower half of his tank is wet, a few parts darker than the others as your blood starts to dry. You can see how the thin, wet material molds to the outline of his abdomen, able to perfectly trace those deeply cut grooves as he shifts. His pants seem relatively safe, save for the long drips you can see at the bottom of the leg. Then your eyes naturally drop to his feet, and there too are drops and streaks of your blood, and most definitely your cum, splattered across the tops. He shifts his footing slightly, and the vein that briefly pops out disturbs a droplet, which then breaks and curves down to drip onto the floor.

He doesn’t even seem to care or notice the blood. Actually, he doesn’t seem to care about any of it at all.

“Take as long as you need to, alright? I’m just gonna grab a trash bag and fix up my room before cleaning myself up. Also, I’m not sure when you last ate, but I’m pretty hungry. It’s late for delivery, so I’ll whip us up something to eat after. Maybe we can watch a movie or something if you aren’t too tired?”

Why isn’t he bringing up the obvious? Why is he just looking at you like normal, speaking to you as if he doesn’t know what happened—what you did in his bed. Why is he not grossed out when he’s covered in your fucking period blood; something that is even disgusting to you, and it comes from your body!

“Just leave all your bloody stuff in the corner right there, I’ll come pick ‘em up when I drop off the towels. I left you some of your tampons, but I noticed you didn’t have anymore? I can make a quick stop at the convenience store, I’m pretty sure they’ve got something to tide you over until the morning.”

You can’t help but look at him like he’s gone insane.

“Why are you being so normal about this?!” You don’t mean to get loud, but you do anyway. Caleb hardly flinches, staring at you with a raised eyebrow. Like you’re the crazy one here for being upset that he isn’t. You can feel the familiar burn of tears and it makes you want to scream. God, you fucking hate being on your period—you usually aren’t this emotional. Nor are you this impulsive when it comes to your urges, yet here you are. Trying to face the consequences of your actions, waiting for him to call you out, but he doesn’t. He’s acting like nothing ever happened at all. But the bloody proof is right here in front of you both and it just confuses you even more. His face instantly changes, and he steps a bit closer with his hands raised; like he’s reaching out to comfort you.

“I know it was an accident, pipsqueak. You didn’t mean it.” The soft tone of his voice paired with his gentle smile nearly has you smack him, and seeing that, he changes his hands in a placating gesture instead. But you shake your head a moment later, the anger bleeding into a deep seated guilt. Because you like the way he looks now. With your blood and cum staining his body and clothes. You enjoy the fact that you’ve bled on him, that you’ve marked him in a way that no other woman will. You’re a complete and utter creep and you need him to see that. Need him to understand, because you don’t deserve to be looked at with so much affection…with so much love. You blow out a shaky breath. You know what you’ve got to do; even if it’ll make you feel so much worse, you just have to get him to realize that you’re weird. Hastily, before you can lose your nerve, you step forward and crowd against Caleb until you’re pressed close together. His eyes widen a little, but he doesn’t move away from you. You grip the necklace dangling in between his pecs, tugging until he’s forced to bend down to your level.

“How do you know I didn’t mean it?” You ask quietly, the tips of your noses barely touching as his hair gently brushes against your forehead. The expression on his face falters and you feel how he tenses against you. You swallow, but continue despite how sick you are with nerves.

“How…how are you so sure that it was an accident, that I’m embarrassed because I feel sorry about what I did?”

“Pips—”

“Because I don’t. Feel sorry, that is. I’m not at all, in fact, I like the fact that you caught me. I like the fact that you’ve got my…my fluids smeared all over you. Like you’ve been marked by me, as if I have any right to claim you as mine.” You choke on the rush of words spilling from your mouth, raising your palm to cover Caleb’s mouth when it looks like he’ll speak again. His eyes bore into you, his pupils blown wide enough to leave only a thin ring of purple surrounding it.

“S’really gross, gege. I’m really gross! I’m a disgusting, perverted freak and you shouldn’t be so nice to me when I completely ruined your clothes and your blanket! Do you know that I’m wearing a pair of your underwear? That I made such a mess because I couldn’t stop myself from jerking off in your bed? That I lost control because I’ve missed you so much and being surrounded by your things drove me insane? If I had just been normal, or if I’d have ran to the bathroom, then none of this would’ve happened. I’m the literal worst, you know I am.” You ignore the fact that he’s now walking you backwards, hands guiding you by your shoulders as you babble, lost in a haze of self-pity. You run out of steam when he presses your back against the wall, and you jolt when the chill seeps through the back of his hoodie. You peer up at him with watery eyes when he wraps one of his hands firmly around your wrist. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly pulls your hand away from his mouth.

You watch him silently, not even trying to put up a fight. What’s the point in fighting now that your shame is out in the open?

“You are not the worst, so stop saying that.” His voice is rough; quiet and ragged in a way that means he’s trying his best to stay in control. Your heart throbs hearing the strain, and you freeze when he raises his other hand to gently touch the bottom of your face. The look in his eyes is intense; something so tenderly affectionate, yet deeply consuming. It’s a look you’ve seen in glimpses, but never fully directed at you when you’re like this—vulnerable and oh so small beneath his large hands and looming figure. You squeeze your eyes shut, wanting to turn away from that unbearably complex look in his eyes, but he keeps you in place with his fingers at the edge of your chin. You can feel the intense stare he’s giving you, and as much as you want to avoid it, you just inherently know that you can’t. Nothing you ever do escapes Caleb, and this is no different. So, reluctantly, you open your eyes and meet his stare.

He gives you a lopsided smile.

“No one gets to be mean to you, including yourself.” You sigh and roll your eyes a bit, acting as if your entire face isn’t on fire. As if you don’t feel warm butterflies fluttering within the space in your belly hearing him say that.

“Besides,” he trails off, your attention snapping back to him when you hear the heavy tone to his voice. His eyes are half-lidded, the fingers on your chin gently trailing down the side of your neck. He’s watching the path the calloused pads of his fingers trace, eyes growing darker when his nails cause goosebumps to arise along your skin.

“I’d be a bit of a hypocrite if I were to judge you.” The idea clicks in your mind faster than you can truly comprehend, and automatically, your eyes drop to his waist. He was careful to keep a distance between your bottom halves, and now you know the reason why. The bulge that greets you is prominent and big; big enough for your cunt to clench around your tampon when you try and imagine taking it inside of you.

“...” You open and close your mouth, your face heating up so quickly that you feel lightheaded. You can hardly believe what you’re seeing, but it’s as clear as day in front of you. Your eyes flick up to Caleb’s, teeth snagging on the fat of your lower lip when you see the rising flush spreading across his cheeks and nose. It’s oddly cute and it’s not an expression you’re used to seeing on him.

“So just relax, okay? There’s nothin’ to get worked up over. S’just you and me here. And you know I’ll always take care of you, no matter what you need me to do.” The unspoken implication within his words makes your already thumping heart race all the faster. He can’t…is he..? A part of you wants to deny what he’s saying; deny what he’s trying to tell you. But that part is small compared to the needy ache welling up behind the space of your ribcage.

“...you mean you want this, you want me—”

“Always.” The subtle tinge of desperation you can detect momentarily blindsides you, and you don’t bother stopping your words anymore when it fully registers in your mind.

“Even when I’m..I’m on my—?” You jerk your head to gesture at your lower half. Caleb hums softly, leaning forward while bringing your hand to rest on his chest. You can feel the rapid pound of his heartbeat as he cages you against the wall, pressing his free arm to rest above your head.

“You think a lil mess like that is gonna scare me away, pipsqueak?”

You shake at the cajoling tone of his voice, brain going a little empty at the look he gives you. The fingers gently grazing your flushed skin shifts to the heavy drag of his palm as he cups the underside of your neck. You can feel the rapid flutter of your pulse as it beats a harsh rhythm through your jugular, eyes glued to his face as he brings himself closer.

“I’ve always cleaned up after you before, haven’t I? What makes this time any different?”

“Gege, I’m too old to–!”

“You’re never too old for gege to take care of.” He dismisses easily, and you have no rebuttal to the utter surety to his voice.

“...you seriously want to…?” You have to ask again, have to make sure that you aren’t losing your marbles. As repetitive and annoying it has to be to say the same things over and over again. Caleb reassures you with ease, gently nuzzling the tip of his nose against your temple. You lean into the pressure, eyes closing when you feel the warm puffs of his breath as they brush against your skin.

“Just wanna take care of you, baby. In whatever way you need me to.”

It clicks for you, then. That Caleb is serious about what he says—is serious about taking care of you in that way. You groan low in your throat at the realization, wordlessly wrapping your hands around his neck and pulling yourself further into his chest. You feel his breath stutter when you press close, his already hot temperature rising as you rest your cheek against his. Neither of you speak as he slips his hands down to rest on your waist, the only signal for his sudden movement the slight shift of his feet before he picks you up. You gasp, fingers grasping the rounded out muscles of his biceps as he curls his hands on the backs of your thighs, spreading your legs and slotting his waist in between them. He presses close, and your hips instinctively buck against the pressure rubbing against your cunt, legs wrapping around his waist to lock at the small of his back.

Could you really have this?

Is he really going to give this to you?

You hide your face in the crook of his neck, crossing your arms behind his shoulders and squeezing tight.

“...help me.” You whisper, curling your hands into fists. Butterflies flutter in your stomach, and you aren't sure if you’re terrified or excited; maybe a bit of both, if you’re being completely honest.

“Help you with what?” He asks, and you want to scream at how calm he sounds, at how he’s forcing you to verbalize what you want.

“Gege—!” You whine, pointedly rocking your hips forward to convey what exactly you want. But it’s clear he’s having none of it, stilling your movements with the use of his Evol. The pressure is gentle but firm as he holds you back, a casual kind of dominance that has you stifle a moan within the sweaty and warm skin of his throat.

“You’re a big girl, right? So be good for me and use your words. Tell me what you need.”

You shake in his arms, your entire body going hot at the sound of his voice. The tone of voice he uses when he’s scolding you, like you’re some unruly little kid in need of a stern talking to. You feel so small, then. Too big for the shame keeping your desires lodged in your throat. Too big to worry about right and wrong when your gege is here now, willing to give you what you want if you just open your mouth and ask. So what’s holding you back, then, if you let all of your worries fade? If you follow your gege’s lead, everything will be alright because he’s never steered you wrong before.

“Need…need you to touch me, gege.” You almost sob, nails digging into your palms as you spill your guts. “Need you to make it stop hurting; need you to fuck me.”

“Yeah?” The hands on your thighs tighten, his voice growing rougher as he pulls you against him; bugle rubbing against your through your layers. You whimper, biting your lip as you desperately try to move. But his Evol has you stuck, clamping down and keeping your body in place.

“Please, gege, please fill me up—” You gasp when he groans and hefts you higher into his arms. This dislodges you from his neck. so you’re forced to stare at him as he swiftly pivots and heads towards the still running shower. The tops of his cheeks are flushed a warm pink, and his eyes look dark underneath the overhead lights as he clears the short distance in mere seconds. You can’t seem to stop the flow of your whimpering pleas as you tilt forward, whining into his ear and rubbing up against him as he moves. It’s driving you crazy how much you want him inside you. More fluid—a mix of blood and slick—gushes out to wet your pants, and you can feel it leak onto Caleb as he slides the shower door open.

His dick twitches against you in the confines of his pants as he steps into the shower, fingers digging into your thighs tight enough for you to feel it. You shiver when the heat envelops you, your already warm body getting hotter as the warm spray pelts your skin and clothes. Within moments the clothes you’re wearing stick to your body, but that becomes unimportant to you when Caleb presses you against the wall again. He keeps you there with the use of his Evol, your legs bent at the knee and spread out. You whine when he shifts back to look at you, freezing to stare unblinkingly at your position. The line of his jaw goes tight, and you see his shoulders move as he inhales deeply. You try to beg him to come closer to you, of course, not wanting to be apart for a second, but your complaints die on your lips when he grabs his tank from the back. He slips it up and off his head, rivulets of pink-tinted water smearing through the blood covering him and tracing the hard lines of his abdomen. Absently, you hear the distant wet ‘smack’ as it lands on the ground, but you’re too focused on the way that glinting silver chain sways against the sharp dip of his collarbones as he steps closer to you.

“You sure about this, [✦]?” The sound of your name is jarring, and you snap your eyes up to meet his. He’s serious as he regards you, his hands hovering over you as if waiting for your permission to undress you. You swallow at the weight in his gaze. It’d be intimidating, you think, if you weren’t so keyed up and ready for him to touch you. If you couldn’t see how excited he is for you, as much as you’re excited for him.

“Mhm, want you so bad, gege. Please, please touch me.” You feel tears bead at the corners of your eyes, the need coursing through you itching at your skin painfully. His expression softens at your words and he wastes no time in crowding closer, cupping the side of your face with one of his large hands. He gently brushes them away with his thumb, bending down so close that you feel his breath puff against your parted lips. The look in his eyes is intense; so many emotions flitting through his eyes too fast for you to catch. All you know is that your heart is quaking within your chest, a dizziness flooding your mind as his eyes drop to your lips.

“Okay.” His voice is almost lost within the steady pitter-patter of the water beating along the shower tiles, and for a moment, all you two do is stare at each other. The tension is thick between you two, growing thicker as one beat passes, then two, then three, until he finally moves.

Your eyes close when his lips meet yours, and it feels like fireworks are going off behind your eyelids. His lips are chapped, but still soft and warm as they move against you; the hand cupping your cheek titling your head for a better angle. You eagerly try and reciprocate as much as you can stuck in place by his Evol, cunt tightening when you hear him groan into your mouth. The kiss gets messier as he plasters himself to you, his other hand landing on your leg as he swipes his tongue over your bottom lip.

You instinctively open your mouth wide, keening when his tongue slips in. He explores your mouth, almost cautiously at first. As if he’s trying to be gentle and ease you into more intense kisses. Soon, though, that restraint seems to waver the longer you’re pressed against each other. Your own mind is barely hanging on by a thread, hips uselessly jerking forward, trying so hard to rub your achy clit against him and scratch that itch inside of you. But he isn’t close enough for you to, hips resting just barely out of reach. Uncontrollable whines fall from your mouth, muffled but constant as you two meet again and again, need lighting you up from the inside and turning your brain to mush.

By the time he pulls away from you long enough to breathe, your pants are soaked with more than just water. This entire time blood and slick have been leaking out of you, staining the already ruined sleep pants and sticking them uncomfortably to your skin. You try and wiggle, wanting to take your clothes off but mind too lost to really come up with a coherent thought. Caleb’s chest heaves as he looks at you, the hand on your cheek trailing down to rest at the base of your throat; the other slides further inward, stopping just shy of where the bloody crotch of your pants begins.

“Want these off?” One look at your face and he seems to know what you want without hesitation. You can only nod in confirmation, shakily breathing out when he repositions himself. Eyes flicking from your face to your body, slowly, he begins undressing you. He strips off the hoodie first, and you only realize that you’re not wearing anything underneath a split second before he gets it off you. He tosses the drenched fabric to the side, landing in a nearby corner with a pathetic ‘squelch’ you could hear even above the harsh spray of the water. It makes you wince a little, embarrassment flooding your belly with butterflies when your eyes flick to the hoodie and back to Caleb. Your heart thumps almost painfully in your chest when you see where his eyes are at; glued to your chest and the sway of your tits as you breathe. The look on his face sends a pulse of heat racing through your body down to your throbbing cunt, arms twitching to come up and cover yourself, but staying in place underneath the weight of his Evol.

“Gege!” You whine at him, needing to say something to get him to actually move. Needing something to distract you from the burning of your cheeks. Your voice comes out louder than you intended, though, echoing off the tiled walls and leaving a faint ring in your ears. He blinks, as if snapping out of a trance. Inhaling another deep breath, he brings his eyes up to meet yours, the corner of his mouth curling into a small smile. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of the sweats clinging to your legs, leaning down to buss a kiss to the side of your temple. His Evol releases your legs and they fall limply to hang, though your feet still don’t touch the ground as he keeps your upper half glued to the white tile.

“Sorry, sorry. You’re just too pretty for me to ignore, baby. Can’t help but get distracted.” You shiver when he ducks further down to speak into your ear, your eyes locked onto his hands as his knuckles press into the wet skin of your tummy. With your lower half now free, you squirm and buck your hips. The feeling of the clothes sticking to your skin is starting to make you upset, and you need them off of you right now.

“Hurry up and take ‘em off, gege. I don’t like how they stick to me—s’gross.” You wiggle around some more, but stop when he chuckles and pushes his knuckles against your belly.

“Alright, alright. Settle down and be just a little more patient for me, okay?”

You groan, but do as he says, stilling your jerking hips with a slight pout. He places a kiss on the tip of your ear, leaning his head against yours for a moment before he moves. You watch as he slowly peels the wet fabric down your hips, fingers snagged into the waistband of his boxers as he goes. The weight of his stare is heavy and present as more and more of your lower half is revealed, and your eyes widen when he starts to crouch down and follow the path of his hands. It ends with him resting his knees on the tile, pants and underwear pooling at your ankles while he stares up at you.

You want to look away from him—don’t want to maintain eye contact when you’re entirely bare before him, with him so close to you and the disgusting mess in between your legs. But you also can’t look away from the expression on his face. The naked hunger as he slides your ankle from the pile on the ground, bending your leg until it rests on his shoulder. He does the same for your other, and before you know it, you’re completely spread open for him to view; his face level with your cunt. There’s still some space between you two, but it’s clear that he intends to close it as he leans forward. It makes you clench down again on the tampon inside of you, and you panic when you realize you have to remove it still. You’re speaking before you can stop yourself.

“W-wait!”

He immediately freezes in place, eyes creasing in concern as he glances up at you.

“What’s wrong? Do you need me to stop?”

You bite your lip, legs twitching with the need to close and hide yourself. Stupid of you to get so carried away that you didn’t think about how exactly you were going to do this. You need to take your tampon out, as well as wash away the dried mess sticking to your inner thighs. Most of it was wiped away from the water, but a few stubborn spots still faintly tint your skin. You can’t just jump into everything right away without taking care of that…right?

“C’mon, talk to me, pipsqueak. If you need a break, or if you need me to stop we can. I won’t be upset.”

He’s so earnest and reassuring that your nerves immediately lessen. You breathe out slowly and shake your head.

“N-no, no. That’s not…no I want this. It’s just…” You groan when the words get stuck in your throat. Your hands twitch with the need to to touch him, to try and ground yourself so you can explain. Something must show on your face because the worried lines of his face ease and you suddenly have the use of your upper torso again. Your entire weight now rests on his shoulders, and your reach out to lace your fingers through his wet hair. You use one hand to slick it back and away from his face, your other dropping to cup his cheek. He doesn’t move any closer to you, but he does lean into the grip you have on his face. You watch him for a few beats longer before quietly getting out your thoughts.

“...gotta take it out, b-before we do anything. Y’know, my…” His eyes widen a bit, and they flick to the place in between your legs for a moment before they return to your face.

“That’s all?” He asks and you nod. “You still wanna do this, then?” You nod again, vigorously enough to make you slightly dizzy. His laugh is so quiet that you almost miss it, but you do see the endeared amusement on his face that has your face feeling unbearably hot.

“Alright.” He looks contemplative for a moment as he stares at you, something forming behind his eyes as his hands come up to rest on the outside of your thighs. Your breath stutters past your lips when he inches forward. He doesn’t break his gaze away from yours as one of his hands slide along the plush fat of your thigh, following along until he ends up gripping the curve of your asscheek. Your hand slips from his cheek and you anchor both of them to the strands of his wet hair, eyes wide. He hums, eyes going half lidded as he shifts so that he’s closer to your cunt, cheek brushing against one of your thighs.

“You want me to help you?” You make a startled noise, jerking when his fingers lightly squeeze your cheek, fingers dragging down until they meet the crease between your thigh and ass. You shiver at the look he gives you, genuine with an underlying darkness that excites you in a way you think should scare you. Like he’s almost…enjoying the idea of taking it out of you. You somehow get even more flustered at the thought, your voice coming out weak as you protest.

“I can do it myself, gege. You don’t need to…” It's hard for the words to pass through your lips, voice growing faint as his eyes grow wide and puppyish—as if he’s trying to plead with you.

“Mhm, I know that you can, but do you want to? Don’t you want gege to take care of it for you?” He trails his fingers up higher, closer to your cunt as he watches you, waiting for your answer. You want to say no, but how can you when confronted with that face? Your hesitancy crumbles within seconds, and you give him a nod as you avert your eyes from his. He doesn’t push for a verbal answer, and even though you refuse to watch him actually do it, that doesn’t mean that you can completely ignore what’s going on.

You can feel his fingers as they gently graze the outside of your cunt. It doesn’t take long for him to find what he’s looking for, and you jolt with a whimper when you feel him tug it out of you. You squeeze your eyes shut when you feel blood rush out as the tampon leaves you. You have no idea what he actually does with it, but you refuse to even look in his direction or ask. Embarrassment doesn’t even begin to describe the tumultuous feelings bubbling within your gut. So many conflicting emotions are spinning around in your mind, and it blinds you a little to your surroundings. So it takes you completely by surprise when you feel his fingers return to your cunt, rubbing along the slick skin of your folds until they meet the edge of your hole.

Your eyes pop open with a startled gasp, fingers tugging at his hair in your shock. Snapping your head down to look at Caleb, you notice he’s already looking back at you and when your eyes lock. He traces around your hole, teasing you with the idea of entering but never fully committing to it. You rut your hips forward, trying to catch the tip of his fingers, but he easily evades it, a small smile curling at his lips. He’s close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him, but he’s far enough away from your cunt you can’t feel his breath. You don’t know if you want him closer or not, or so you tell yourself.

“Eyes on me, okay? If you look away, I'll stop.” And before you can even react to that, he slips his finger inside of you. Your nails dig into his scalp when you feel the thickness of his finger glide against your walls, a whimper falling past your parted lips as your cunt clenches down tightly. He groans low in his throat, teeth digging into his lower lip as he pulls his finger out. You don’t have to wait long at all until he slides back in, slow and searching as he turns his head to plant messy kisses along your thigh. He eyes you still, nipping at your skin with his teeth when he brushes against a spot that has your legs twitching where they hang on his shoulders, back arching from the pleasure skirting down your spine.

“There we go.” He murmurs, and your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head when one finger turns into two, the coil forming in your belly getting tighter. You're leaking so much that you begin to hear it over the loud spray of the water, a consistent ‘squelch, squelch, squelch’ as water, blood and slick wet his fingers. Your mind is completely filled with the stretch of his fingers, the rush of pleasure as it drowns out your shame and embarrassment. You buck into his hand with a loud moan, tears pooling along your waterline as you try to keep your eyes on him. It’s hard to meet that stare directly, but you force yourself to. You don’t think you could take it if he stopped now, not when you’ve been thinking about this for so long.

But you want more. Want more than the steady pace he keeps with his two fingers. You need something bigger, something to really give you the stretch you so desperately crave.

“Gege, please, want—” You choke on a whimper when he scissors his fingers on the pull out before slipping back in, brushing against that spot once again.

“Mhm, what do you want? Talk to me.”

Except when you go to open your mouth, all that comes out is another loud groan when he scissors his fingers, inserting a third digit that has you tugging at his hair again. You can barely speak as he fucks you with his fingers, teeth and lips leaving marks all over your thigh. You tug at his hair, trying to get him to stop so you can breathe, but that seems to only egg him on. He hisses into your skin, teeth digging in hard as his fingers thrust in and out of you faster. It’s driving you insane to feel this way, the heat boiling beneath your skin turning your thoughts to mush. Water droplets fall into your eyes, and you blink them away quickly, lips parting with a loud whine when you feel the barest hints of his fourth finger lightly stretch your hole. You nearly scream when your back arches sharply, the tight coil suddenly snapping as your orgasm rushes through you like a wave. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, your thighs clamping down around his neck as you shake uncontrollably.

“Thaaat’s it, baby. There we go, lemme have it.” Caleb groans into the skin of your thighs, fingers stilling in their thrusts, instead focusing on rubbing at the fleshy spot inside of you that milks your orgasm for longer. The pleasure lighting you up from the inside seems to go on for an eternity, slick and hot fluid gushing out of your cunt and wetting his fingers and your skin as he continues to work you over. You quickly grow sensitive, but if anything, your hips jerk into his fingers, body and mind still craving more even when you start to squeal from overstimulation. You don’t even realize you’re chanting the words ‘more more more gege please gimme more’, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling as you clench around the thickness of his fingers.

You jolt back into awareness when your legs are roughly spread open and are pressed into the water-warmed tile behind you. It’s an awkward position for you, your entire lower half exposed from the depth of the stretch, a muscle in your leg twitching as your thighs make contact with the wall. The blood and cum coating your skin and the hair on your pussy gets cleaned off by the warm shower spray, the water making you shiver as it glides across your sensitive body. You blink the mix of water and tears out of your eyes, watching as Caleb stands up to his full height, face a deep-seated mask of hunger and need.

There are traces of new blood flecked along his skin, most of it centering on the fingers of his right hand of course. You even notice a few splotches along the dips of his chest, at the corner of his jaw and dripping down his happy trail to stain the band of his pants. It should make you feel disgusted, but your arousal only grows as you see some of your blood streak with water from the shower.

“...one more.” You barely can make out his mumbled words before he’s advancing towards you, one hand cupping the underside of your jaw and tilting your face up, the other immediately falling between your spread legs to land on your throbbing clit. The first touch of his fingers has your entire body flinching, an almost inhumanly guttural moan exiting from your open mouth when he mercilessly begins to rub. You quickly find that your arms are free when they reach up to wrap around his shoulders, your nails digging into the corded muscle.

“Give me one more and I’ll fuck you, okay? Need to, fuck, need to see you come like that again.” He pants into your mouth, nose to nose as he touches your clit, eyes feverishly desperate as he damn near begs you. You can only sob out in answer, tears blurring your vision when the pressure starts to build up within you again. Faster, this time, and all the more intense as you’re forced to just take what he’s giving you, your lower half held so tightly that you have no chance of running away from the wave rolling through you. And it bulldozes right into you, your voice pitching into a scream and cracking halfway through, bloody red welts left on his shoulder blades by your nails as more tears stream down your face.

You hiccup when his fingers gentle their movements, shivers traveling up your spine when he slides his fingers down the seam of your cunt. He litters your face with kisses; trailing them across your lips and cheeks, to the corners of your eyes and your forehead, even placing one on the tip of your nose. Breathless and wanting, he murmurs little encouragements into the kisses he gives you. ‘Good job, baby’ and ‘You did so well for me’ and ‘Good girl’. All of them serve to turn your mind into slush, a perfect way to distract you as he slowly inserts two of his fingers back into the tight clutch of your pussy. You weakly jolt when you feel it, brain melting out of your ears as he stretches you as wide as he can on his fingers.

“Doin’ so good for me, baby. Gave gege exactly what he asked for. So beautiful when you break apart under me. ” He plants a tender kiss near the corner of your lips, staring down at you with a crazed, love-drunk expression that makes your heart thump inside of your chest, a feeling so profound and deep that it makes you ache.

“Gege…” Your voice barely carries through the noise of the water, but the shape of your mouth says it all. He offers you a lopsided smile, gently nuzzling the tip of his nose against yours.

“Still want me?”

You don’t even have to think before you’re nodding your head up and down, garbled pleas falling from your lips as you try to push yourself closer.

“Yes, yes, please, gege, please—” He shushes you with a fond huff, thrusting his finger in one last time before pulling them out.

“Relax, alright? Gege’s gonna take care of you, just be patient. Can you be a good girl and wait?”

“Mhm, I can, I can.”

He hums and gives you a quick peck before backing away slightly. The hand on your jaw falls down to touch the waistband of his pants, and between one blink and the next, he’s completely tossed his bottoms off and you finally get to see what’s underneath. Your pussy clenches when you realize just how fucking huge he is; thick enough that your hand would just barely wrap around him fully and long. There’s a definite weight to the flushed shaft of his cock, hanging low even when he’s fully hard. A gush of slick leaks out of you, sliding down your cunt and the curve of your ass before the shower washes it away.

You want him so bad you think you’d actually die if he doesn’t get inside of you soon. You try your best to stay still and listen to your gege, but it’s hard when all you want to do is sink down on his cock; fuck yourself on it so hard that your mind fucking breaks from the pleasure of it.

“That’s a nice expression you’ve got there, pipsqueak.”

The grin in his voice is dark and smug, but you can’t even be mad at him for it because he’s earned it, in your opinion. Still, though. That doesn’t make handling the embarrassment any easier.

“Please…please don’t tease me. I’ve been good, right? I’ve been so good for you, gege, please fuck me.” You reach out your arms to him, a pleading look on your face as your lips tremble with the strain of not whining and crying out like a baby. You’re so close to doing just that it’s not even funny anymore. It’s all worth it, though, when Caleb easily caves and moves back toward you, his dick meeting the side of his thigh with a loud ‘smack’. A broken moan falls from your lips at the sound, and you think you have a bit of an out of body experience because the next thing you’re aware of Caleb’s face is close to yours. One of his hands is gripping your inner thigh, the other on the base of his cock.

“You ready?”

You truly don’t have the breath capacity to voice your agreement, not when you can feel the blazing heat of his bare skin seep through your own. You make some kind of squeak-grunt, because he slowly starts to rub himself against your cunt. Your eyes are glued to the way your blood covers his shaft, clumps and long strings of your cum spreading along the multiple veins you can see. It’s gross, it’s so fucking distgusting but you can’t help that it gets you even wetter, more fluids leaking out and smearing on his skin.

“Eyes on me.” He says, but he doesn’t wait for you to follow, simply using the force of his Evol to tip your head up.

“Deep breath, okay?” You nod and do as he tells you, bracing yourself for the stretch when you feel the tip of his meaty cock slide down to your hole. Your fingers dig into his shoulders again, chest heaving as you both watch him move.With your blood and cum slicking the way, he slowly eases his dick past the tight ring of your hole. Nothing, though, nothing could have prepared you for the sheer girth of his cock as he slides deeper, stretching you so wide that you think you’re being split open. Your breath knocks out of you with a wheeze, lips falling open; overwhelmed by the sheer amount of feeling igniting your nerve endings. Your fingers drag down his shoulders to his chest, your back arching as far as it can go. Your entire head would have bumped against the wall if not for Caleb’s Evol. Inch by agonizing inch he pushes inside you, bullying his way through your clenching walls as you sit there and take it.

“So fucking tight.” He mutters, voice choked as the grip he has on your thigh turns bruising. Like he can’t help but lose control. You pussy grips him harder at those words, causing him to let out a bitten off curse as he fully seats himself in you. The tip brushes against something in you that has a ragged moan tumbling from your lips, going cross-eyed as your fingers scrambling at his chest when Caleb shifts minutely.

You come.

It’s unexpected, how strongly your orgasm barrels into you. A surprise because you didn’t even realize you were close again, but here you are; a shrill scream leaving your mouth as your cunt clamps down so tight on his cock that you feel as if you’re sucking him in deeper; so deep that he has no choice but to stay within the wet warmth of your pussy for forever. You have no idea how long the wave lasts that time, everything around you becoming utterly meaningless in the face of such an overwhelming emotion. Coming back to yourself later, you blink the spots out of your vision, tears falling down your cheeks as you fight to breathe. He’s so…big; big enough that you’re positive you can feel him in your throat and you whimper when you can feel the scorching heat of him twitch inside of you.

Blearily blinking the last of the colors out of your eyes, you turn your attention to Caleb. He’s standing stock still, the hand that was guiding him now resting on your other thigh. His eyes are squeezed shut, lip stuck underneath his teeth as his entire frame subtly shakes. Veins bulging as a flush coloring his cheeks, it’s clear that he’s trying his best to give you time to adjust, to recover from your fifth orgasm of the night. But you don’t want that—you want him to fuck you, regardless of your current sensitivity.

“Gege…gege it's okay. Just—fuck, please move I’m ready, I promise—” You gasp when he suddenly looms over you, his eyes dark as the grip on your thighs turn harsh.

“You’ve gotta be sure, baby. I don’t know if I can hold back once I’ve started, so please,” He groans out when you clench down on him, “wait if you need to. I don’t mind.”

You whine and shake your head. You physically can’t wait any longer. Not when you can feel him like this.

“No, no, I promise I’m ready. It’s all I ever wanted, please don’t make me wait any longer, gege, please.”

You can physically see the moment he snaps.

“Don’t cry about it later then.”

And then he’s lifting your thighs in his wide and warm palms, pulling them up so that they rest on his chest. Your knees hook over his shoulders as he folds you in half, squishing you against the tile. It’s a tight squeeze and unbearably hot as your breaths mingle together, your arms bent at the elbows and stuck in the valley of your tits. But you don’t mind the position, not when you can feel all of him press into you, wet skin against wet skin. How can you care that you can barely breathe when you can feel how much deeper his cock gets in you? He shifts his feet, and the movement has you keening out loudly when the tip stabs into your cervix. He grunts out something too low for you to understand, but that all falls to the wayside when he plants his hands on the wall next to your head and really begins to move.

‘Plap plap plap plap’

Over and over and over again, the tip of his cock pounds against your cervix, the sound of his thighs meeting your ass loud and lewd combined with the moans you emit, but the noises he makes are even worse than that. He doesn’t stop talking to you as he fucks you against the wall, mouth pressed to your ear saying things so dirty and unlike the kind gege you know that it makes your head spin.

“Feel so good wrapped around me, baby. So warm and wet and fuckin’ tight.”

“She’s even better than I, ngh, imagined–fuck. You like that, pipsqueak? Like hearing how much I’ve thought about bending you over and wrecking this cute little pussy of yours?”

“Messy little girl, you’re leakin’ all over me. Hear that, baby?” ‘Squelch.’ “Y’hear how much she likes the way gege fills her up?”

It’s all too much for your brain to handle, embarrassment and arousal tangling up the wires in your mind. All you can do is take whatever your gege gives you, crying and moaning and whining as he repeatedly plunges the tip of his cock into the one spot that sends sparks lighting across your vision. You can tell he’s getting close when the filth spewing from his lips grows a lot more sweet, the pound of his hips growing faster and off-rhythm.

“You feel like a dream, baby. Sucking me in so fuckin’ good and moanin’ so pretty for me.”

“Never gonna let you go ever, ngh. Not when this is all I ever wanted—when this is all I ever needed.”

“You’re all gege’s, right? All for gege to look after, to make you feel good. All for gege to love.”

You feel as if your heart is about to burst out of your chest, your ears ringing with his words as tears fill your vision. He…he loves you? Like, like—

“Gege–!” You cry out, needing to see his face. You have to—you can’t say anything back until you do.

Without skipping a beat, Caleb raises himself up and meets your stare, bare and open in front of you. There’s no fake cheer or mean glint. All you see is Caleb to his barest and most pure form, stripped down to nothing but the deep love and affection in his eyes.

“I love you too, gege. Love you so much.” Your voice cracks over the words, tears dripping down your cheeks as you demand him with your eyes to come closer. And he does, easily engulfing you in his entirety. He drags his lips across your cheeks and lips, sharing breaths as he stares at you like you’re some cosmic wonder. Like you’re everything he’s ever dreamed of. He mumbles ‘I love you’ over and over again like a mantra, eyes going glassy and unfocused as his thrusts become more and more erratic. It takes one, two, three more pumps and it’s over for him. You feel it as his hips stutter and his face slackens, eyes fluttering shut as he leans his forehead against yours. Warm and thick cum fills you to the brim, mixing with the blood and slick. The sounds are absolutely filthy, but you feel anything but when his lips press against yours in the sweetest kiss you’ve shared all night. Your cunt squeezes even tighter around him once that thought settles, something that forces him to let out a high-pitched whimper that you’ve never heard him make before. It makes you proud, then. That you could wring such a vulnerable noise out of your gege. Groaning, he drops his head to your shoulder and allows your legs to fall and wrap around his waist. Using his Evol, he sets the both of you down gently on the shower floor, turning off the water and allowing you two to breathe in a calm quiet.

“...You mean it, baby?”

You don’t hesitate to answer, despite your throat feeling dry and achy.

“I mean it. Love you so much, gege. So, so much.”

He laughs, light and wondrous as he squeezes you in his arms, peppering more kisses along your sweaty hairline. You giggle with him, so, so tired yet so happy as you snake your arms around his torso and lean against him. As crazy as these circumstances are…you are glad that you were able to finally bridge that gap between the two of you.

Even if you had to expose a side of yourself you’d never expect to show.

abrupt ending is abrupt :D no but seriously this is sooooo crazy like, i'm still in shock that i've written this much for this idea; but i actually really ended up putting some of my personal feelings/experiences in this and it was kinda cathartic i'm ngl; now, if you'll excuse me, i think i'm just gonna go hide under a rock while i deal with all the emotions this made me feel ^^

#owlettie's works #owlettie writes #lads caleb #love and deepspace #caleb love and deepspace #caleb x you #caleb x reader #caleb #caleb smut #l&ds caleb #l&ds #lads x you #lads x reader #lads smut #tw periods

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