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janumun · 3 months ago

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A Practical Demonstration (LaDS Sylus - NSFW)

Rated: NSFW/18+ Words: 9.8k Pairing: Sylus/Reader

Tags: size difference, oral and vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, rough sex, mild mentions of stalking (not Sylus or Mephisto for once LOL), inexperienced (NOT virgin) reader, edging, drinking, [im]proper use of evol, explicit sexual content

Summary: When you end up disclosing a mortifying truth to Sylus about your dating life, deep in a drinking session; drowning yourself within a bottle — or three — of alcohol until you black out is the only option left to you to avoid that sharp, intuitive gaze for the rest of the night.

That is, until Sylus throws a counter offer your way, one that sounds far too tempting to your scrabbled brain. Being the brilliant voice of reason you are tonight, you accept.

[A fic where Sylus shows you exactly how good sex with a perceptive partner feels like when you confess your less than optimal dating experience.]

Author’s Notes: Truly clown moment when I believed this fic would not exceed more than 4k words and yet again, here I am sitting on an almost 10k monster. I love what being horny for these men has done for my inspiration. Thank you so much to @chibamari for providing the prompt that birthed this fic. Already working on a religious desecration imagery angsty sex fic with Xavier and Queen MC, based on his first myth, as we speak.

The lingering remnants of your foiled meeting are muted with the press of rouged lips against the cusp of your cool glass, the liquor within, sliding easy down your throat with your fervent swallow.

Placing it back down with a defeated sigh, you lean your arm against the counter, cradling your warming cheek against the crook of your palm.

You never should’ve let Tara talk you into an impromptu date with a mutual acquaintance she’d considered ‘the perfect match’ for you; her giddy excitement and enthusiasm to get you a date had been too difficult to turn down. You cursed yourself underneath your breath at your inability to say no to those big, wide eyes and cheery smile; exactly the components that had saddled you deep into the disaster you’d considered that date to be — if it could be called as such.

You’d excused yourself half-way through the man’s self-absorbed prattling — ruining the taste of the expensive steak in front, one you’d been wanting to try for ages — on excuse of an urgent mission coming up.

A hand tucking your phone close to your ear, to reinforce your hasty lie while the other had slipped your card to your assigned waiter, making hasty work of settling your end of the bill. You’d swept up your coat and purse, striding out the lavish restaurant on swift-heeled steps before your sputtering date could so much as lift a hand in protest.

Which is what had now landed you firmly in your current predicament, within the confines of a cosy, well-known bar, not too far from where you’d started.

Nursing a budding headache within the bitter notes of alcohol, to help ease at long fraught nerves. In between the ever-looming threat of Wanderers and the obstructive wrench thrown into your investigation into the Ever group, along with how busy work usually kept you, you were exhausted, suffice to say. The insignificant man tonight had just been the icing on this long-ruined cake.

Tara’s suggestion; to put yourself out more and ‘let loose’ for a bit, had ended in mild regret in going along with it, in the first place.

It had been far too long since you’d been in a relationship — let alone enjoyed a date with a man; your professional obligations kept you busy, coupled along with an extremely low desire to invest yourself into the dating pool, to wade and weed through to one that matched your wavelength.

A flash of an alluring garnet gaze sparks through your mind’s eye in passing, at the thought, one you physically shake yourself out of.

Now there was a man entirely on the spectrum opposite to your frequency. Your inability to resonate with him had only been just one of many failures toward mutual understanding.

“Another one for you, Miss?” The bartender inquires; you’re nodding before you can think it through.

“Yes, thank—”

“She’ll have a mojito instead. The usual for me.” A deep, rich voice drifts at your back — before it scotches down, involuntarily and low into your belly — just as the large hand you feel slip across your shoulder in greeting. You close your eyes against the intrusion, hoping the hazy apparitions of your mind would gift you a damn break just once tonight; as if having had him conjured out of mere musings. You shudder.

The alluring man at your side does not dissipate as you’d direly wished, seating himself down onto the stool next to yours, completely at leisure at having snuck into your space, unannounced once more. You hated how infuriatingly easy the Onychinus head found himself able to pervade your every space, along with each of your thoughts — the latter of which you did not wish to dissect apart tonight. Or, ever, if you had the choice.

“What are you thinking of, with such a severe frown on your face?” He speaks, as if he does not know the exact reason for your irritation. “You’ll put a permanent knot in there if you don’t stop.”

You choose to ignore him in lieu of offering a resigned nod to the bartender for the order Sylus had placed on your behalf. You could use a less inebriating drink now, especially so if you were to deal with the man beside you.

“What’re you doing here, Sylus?” You sigh against the dredges of your last drink, letting the bitter liquid warm your throat.

“Has the alcohol numbed your memory as well, sweetheart? We had an appointment, did we not?” Your respective orders are deposited in front, just as he moves to take the drink in between long, tapered digits, bringing it up to his mouth for a taste.

The slow drag of his Adam’s apple against his throat as he drinks, tugs your gaze towards it — an involuntarily reflex you aren’t able to control. Sylus’ scarlet gaze canting sideways to capture yours is what finally has you wrenching away from the delectable sight, cursing your fast settling inebriation for the mis-step.

He was an attractive man, your mind had long made begrudging peace with the fact, even if you’d both started off on an extremely wrong — horrid, actually — foot. And he’d proven himself to be a reliable companion, when the two of you had caused waves within N109’s criminal hub, in a quest for the Aether Core. His side of the bargain he’d kept, in exchange for your deal to forge a steady resonation with him. One you had no thoughts of reneging on, you’d keep your promise to him for the massive aid he’d provided. And yet, you could not help bemoan the fact that this very man confounded you, to your very core, to the point you weren’t sure what to make of his intentions. And yours.

But surely, you weren’t this physically deprived that Sylus of all people was beginning to sprout this visceral a reaction from you?

“And I texted you I couldn’t make it tonight, sweetheart.” You quip, pinching your forehead in between thumb and index. “This really isn’t the time, Sylus.”

He raises a careful brow at you, and God help you, even that gesture is incredibly beguiling to your slushed brain.

“And you couldn’t make it because” he prompts, tapered digits drumming against the marbled countertop. “you wished to spend your time out here, dressed to the nines, in a party of one?”

“So what if I wanted to?” All your prickly response earns you is a discerning gaze, zoned in on you. You exhale hard through your nose, shoulders steeling to utter your next words. “Oh alright, I had a blind date tonight.” You’re not sure why exactly you’re divulging something this private to the man.

The way his brows shoots in simmering surprise before they bunch in at his forehead in a frown is almost comical, you would’ve snorted at the expression he’s pulling if not for his next words. “So that’s what had that imbecile out there on your trail, lingering at the door for.” He scoffs. “You may not have enjoyed your date but you certainly got yourself a love-struck fool nipping at your heels, kitten.”

“Wait, what?” Bewilderment wars cold within your mind at the disgusting revelation of the man tonight having possibly followed you and Sylus having caught him dead in the act. “What did you do to him?”

“It’s fascinating how your first assumption is that I did anything to him.” His pleasant chuckle curls within your ears; a low, throaty burr. And when you give him one of your own looks, “Alright, don’t look at me so. Mephisto presumed you had a far dangerous stalker on hand than that sorry bastard, when he saw him lurking about you.” He swirls his glass of whiskey in between casual fingers. “I gave him some cordial talking to and sent him on his merry way.”

A million queries hurtle within your mind — what did his “cordial talking to” ensue exactly? Why had Mephisto been trailing you? Why did Sylus feel the need to step in and personally take care of your potential stalker?

You reach to take a swig of your own glass, feeling that headache pinching once more at your brow. “I don’t appreciate you having your silly crow keep tabs on me, Sylus. But,” Reluctant gratitude stirs at the tip of your tongue as your mind slowly processes the situation at hand. If it hadn’t been for Sylus’ interfering ways, you might’ve been saddled with a problem far worse than the infuriatingly suave Onychinus leader on your hands tonight. “Thank you for taking care of that creep for me, I guess. I appreciate it?”

You think you catch the strains of barely there surprise within his gaze, along with an amalgamation of emotions you aren’t able to parse before they’re shuttered out of sight. Replaced with a cool smile, he angles at you. “The alcohol has you honest for a change, kitten. I can’t say I dislike it.”

That infuriating remark has you almost wanting to take back your thanks, almost.

“Your engagement for the night has scurried off home with his tail in between his legs, leaving you to your celebration of one.” His touch is a flitting, warm caress against the shell of your ear as he folds a stray lock of hair back in place. “Are you going to say why you’re out here by your lonesome yet, furiously downing liquor, instead of back in the safety of your house?”

A gibe sits sharp across your tongue at his probing, wanting to tell him to back off and out of your business, he had no reason to be asking whether you chose to go out on a date or throw yourself a self-wallowing party, to let loose for one damn night. You weren’t even sure why Sylus pricked at your nerves the way he did — riling you up in the manner he did. Each single touch, every look fraught with meaning. He did and went as he pleased, without a care for what people made of him; self-assured as if the world itself, he held, in between those devious fingers. And he probably did too, his reputation one of absolute power within N109 Zone and without.

That very same man — the one who’d told you he’d make full use of you, as you did him — perched atop a bar stool by your side, asking you a question that seemed devoid of his usual ribbing. And perhaps, it’s because of that one sole thought that you find your mouth moving — or simply, because the alcohol has sniped your inhibitions. “Tara’s been on my case lately, insisting I need to get laid to blow off some stress.”

“Oh? That hunter girl with the bob, the very eager one.” Sylus looks immensely amused; your mind sifts through memories to recall how exactly Sylus knew her before it clicks: ah, the company retreat you’d stumbled into Sylus a few weeks back at. How could you ever forget? The day had been a nightmare.

“The very one,” you blink. “Hence the failed date tonight and my immeasurable disappointment.”

“Why? Were you planning on sleeping with that loser?”

You shake your head at him, horrified at the mere thought. “No, it actually went as well as I was expecting it to. Bad, that is.” You take another enthusiastic swig of your drink, a modicum of clarity returning to your stuffed head. “The sorry state of the dating pool at large, for a hunter with limited time on her hands isn’t exactly stellar. Even less so for men who know what they’re doing. And my luck in that regard seems particularly disastrous.”

In hindsight, you knew you were word vomiting your thoughts out at this point, with way too much candour than was appropriate for the situation, you’d regret it tomorrow perhaps — no, most definitely. But at the moment, underneath the glazed pleasant bubble of alcohol loosening your tongue and the enticement of an extremely alluring man, who had his entire attention focused upon you, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

He huffs an amused half-laugh. “What sort of men have you been with exactly, kitten?”

“Not that many.” You retort. “...Two and both during my schooling years, very briefly. I was a giddy teen, excited at the prospect of a loving boyfriend. Both their expectations from the relationship were obvious from a mile away, though.” You scrub a hand through the carefully primmed fall of your hair, not caring for the accessories you knocked askew. “God, I don’t think they even knew what to do with a woman, outside of getting their dicks wet.” You laugh at your own odd joke, tumbling within your brain.

“It’s actually crazy how I’ve never had a man make me properly come in all my years—” Your words die within your throat at the realization of your horrifying admission.

Surely, you’d thought them within your own mind and not just blurted your entire sob fest onto the man in front? A wretched sound of dismay leaves your throat at the inscrutable look upon Sylus’ face, shredding apart any sliver of hope you’d had that you had only been musing in thoughts.

Gods, Tara was right, your idiotic self did need to get laid, you’d gone mad at long last. And made of yourself, a fool in front of the man you were begrudgingly attracted to. There was no coming out of this and you woed the fact that you’d even let yourself drink in the first place.

“It does seem like your dating life has been rather disastrous up to this point.” Sylus responds, at last, insouciantly plucking his glass of whiskey off the counter for a swig, so at counterpoint to your rioting emotions.

“Sylus.”

“What is it?”

You reach over, a hand securing about his broad shoulder, as you tip precariously close into the man’s space, plucking the glass straight out of his hands.

“Hey—” Before darting back as far as you’re able, a feat Sylus did not think a woman even half-drunk was capable of.

Taking a large gulp of the acridly strong liquor down your gullet, in a prayer to knock yourself out like you’d originally intended to before Sylus had walked in all over your small parade. Anything to blot your memory of the knowledge of your mortifying words to Sylus. But curling vines of red and obsidian are cleaving through your plans just as swift, one sliding about your waist to prevent your precipitous tilt upon the narrow stool while the other plucks the liquor clean out of your hands after a single pitiful swig.

The swirls of misted red disappear just as furtively swift as they’d appeared once they have you righted upon the stool and out of harm’s way.

A low sigh rings heavy above your head at your absurdity. “That’s enough. We’re leaving.”

Affording you no room for feeble protests as he slips a cool palm around yours; long, thick fingers reassuring in between your own before he tows you away from the glittering inebriation of night life.

Clarity from the merciful remnants of your intoxication is unwelcome tonight — like cool gunmetal pressed fast against your temple, siphoning the entirety of the alcoholic flush from your system. Having utterly failed at your attempts at getting hammered so you would’ve had at least an excuse to fake post drunken amnesia in the face of your shame tomorrow.

Instead, here you were, deep within Zone N109 once more, incarcerated to the room Sylus had appointed temporarily as yours during your first visit to the place. One that had over time, turned into your housing and personal space, indefinitely, for whenever you happened to drop by on business with the Onychinus head. On business, you firmly reminded yourself. Even as the significance of the fact that Sylus had thought it fit to make space for you within his very own — his home — was not lost on you.

You remembered trying to sweep a kick to the back of his shins, back at the bar, for having you bodily dragged out into the sobering night air and towards where his car awaited, parked by the curb.

“Let go of me, you big brute.” Those vexing vines of red had curled about your leg mid-motion, tugging you up sharply before your world upended and you’d been tossed unceremoniously like a sodden sack of rice onto the broad expanse of one of his shoulders. You’d dug your nails into his back in punishing protest at his audacity.

Earning yourself a derisive snort for your efforts. “Continue pawing at me like that and I’ll have you trussed next, kitten.”

Your mouth had curled into a silent snarl, thumping futile fists against his solid back. “Try me.”

“Don’t think I won’t.” He’d warned mildly before he’d continued on his merry way, wide stride that had barely faltered with your struggles.

You sigh in defeat, scrubbing your palms down your face in recollection of the memory — your reflexive annoyance at his actions stemming more from your own mortifying situation than any real anger at him.

He’d brought you back to his place, closer from where the bar was located, instead of back home, where the two of you risked running into any of your acquaintances, Xavier for one.

And you couldn’t afford to let the people around you know of the Onychinus head — Sylus understood that instinctually, even if you did not speak of it. Content though he seemed to perpetually keep you in a state of life-threatening heart palpitations with his goading ways; absently recalling how Sylus had been Tara’s first man of choice for her date plan, owing to how he’d found it fit to barge in on their last team retreat.

Shaking your head, you press a hand against your forehead as you move to wipe your body clean, having opted for one of the more comfortable outfits to change into for the night, you’d brought over from your place to his during one of your earlier visits — amusement sparking at you to witness how Sylus had thought it fit to buy you a couple new dresses, to add to your sparse collection, hanging within your wardrobe. As if you two were something more than acquaintances and professional partners.

Your mind really seemed to have free reign over mad thoughts tonight.

A knock resounds through the quiet of the room, effectively piercing your thoughts. “Are you done yet?” His familiar, welcome burr sounds from the other side of the door.

“I am. Come on in.” The handle glides open, revealing Sylus standing in the doorway, having swiped his outerwear for a casual dark red button down, the sleeves rolled up to reveal the firm strength of his forearms; a sight you aren’t able to tear your ogling from, as he steps into the room. He closes the distance in between you in three easy strides. Crowding you within a room that feels too small and sweltering all of a sudden.

“Feeling any better now?” His voice wrenches your gaze away from the sliver of skin revealed beneath the top two buttons of his shirt unfastened.

You sigh, cursing at licentious thoughts. This man, in his incinerating, sensual entirety, frustrated you to no end. “I am, Sylus. Thank you.”

“Good.” He hums. “Because you should stay awhile, a day or two at least.”

“What? Why?”

“I have to make sure that weasel you had tagged to you tonight doesn’t try getting too smart. Mephisto caught him lingering close to your streets after the whelp bolted following his wretched stalking attempt.”

The revelation has nausea stirring at your gut; what had you gotten yourself into with that despicable creep? You were going to throttle Tara the next time you saw her.

You sigh. “While that is disturbing behaviour and I’m grateful for the concern but I think I could’ve handled that idiot fine on my own.”

A frown belts at his brow. “He’s a colleague from work, isn’t he? Despite his absolute spinelessness, that weasel is a trained Hunter with an authorized weapon on hand.”

You raise a questioning brow at him, half inquisitive how exactly he knew your date happened to be a work acquaintance. Barely a few hours spent on his radar and the sorry fool already had all his information scraped and into the Onychinus head’s clutches. You did not envy his position, at the moment, massive creep though he was, having stood witness to how Sylus wiped his enemies clean out of existence.

“Sure you’re capable, sweetheart, and your weasel is an idiot but do you want to be vigilant, glancing over your shoulder for a stalker, round the clock?” He pitches his head, waiting for your answer.

His words give you pause, his reasoning not entirely without weightage. You mutter a quick curse underneath your breath, frustrated at how terribly disastrous tonight had turned out to be.

Sylus’ smile quirks, taking your expletives for the affirmation they are. “And besides,” his hand shifts against your cheek, skimming a thumb down the curve of it, “you did enthusiastically mention your hazardous luck with dates. Might as well take care of this one before the vermin starts to fester.”

A skitter of irked embarrassment bruises at your ego. “Are you making fun of me right now?”

“Not in the slightest.” His thumb has switched towards your bottom lip, trekking a ghosting path across the swell of it. A different kind of emotion spurts within your chest along with the simmering annoyance, at his testing touch. “On the contrary, I was going to make an offer, one of mutual benefit.” His voice skims an octave lower and scotches deeper into your belly. “What do you say? Would you like to hear it?”

His searing touch drifts down your chin, sweeping against your jaw. You’re unsure of the mesh of emotions that are surging through you at his evocative touch; indignation, surprise, reluctance... desire. You can barely focus on the words issuing from his mouth.

“Well?” He prompts. “I don’t recall taping your mouth shut, sweetie.” His thumb returns to caress a path across your parted lips as if to make a point; a hushed throaty laugh leaving him at the hitch of breath that action elicits. He knows what he’s doing to you and he’s rousing you on purpose; the absolute scoundrel.

“What’re you trying to say? Speak clearly, Sylus.” Your tongue darts forth to lap a quick path across the bottom of your lip; Sylus’ gaze rolling down your face to settle at your mouth when you do, a sudden simmer of heat flaring within blood-red. “I despise riddles.” Another deep chuckle issues from his mouth, one that stirs into your belly without permission, much like the man himself.

“What was it that you said earlier?” The tip of his thumb edges just past your lips. “Ah yes... you’ve never had a man make you come.”

You flush at the recollection, cursing yourself for the umpteenth time tonight. You’d made a terrible mistake and you swore you’d never drink again, if it meant Sylus would just fucking drop it. Or you would, and the ground would swallow you whole. You’d confided a mortifying secret within a man who confounded you to no end.

“So what?” A challenging grimace drags at your face, just as you sink a bite into his invading digit, hard. He does not so much as even flinch, his smile tugging wider instead.

“What a spirited kitten I’ve lured into my hands.” He muses. “I like the face you’re making right now.”

His eyes crinkle in at the corners, a mild thread of tenderness you think you catch streak through the simmering heat of his garnet gaze. It makes you want to turn away from the look, not wanting him to scrabble your heart any more than he has.

“No,” A tapered index and thumb curve about your chin, firmly tempting your gaze back to him. “Don’t look away, keep your eyes on me.”

And for that one instant, you listen. “My proposition is earnest, sweetie. Despite what your consensus may be, I’m quite fond of you, more so than you think.” Your breath snags in your throat at the admission; you’d be blind to not catch the clear insinuation in his words.

His mouth skews into a smile. “Would you be averse to the idea of me showing you how it’s done?” He swipes at the swell of your bottom lip, his voice several octaves lower. Yes?” A sensual caress in the opposing direction. “No?” Your eyes flitter in hooded desire at the allure of his rich voice, scotching low into your belly to pool in between your clenched legs.

You take a moment to inhale, slow, processing his words. Reaching a hand out to trace careful fingers against the strength of his jaw. “Do you realize the weight of what you’re implying, Sylus?” An inane question by all means. You’ve never known a man more self-assured in what he desires; you admit it’s rather arousing.

“Oh, I do.” The distracting curve of his smirk pulls wider. “But do you, sweetheart?”

Your fingers leave his face to drift across the open collar of his shirt, pulling him close. “You’ve been lodged in my mind for a long time.” You allow him a moment of that infuriating self-pleased smile. “Even without that pesky Evol of yours invading my skull.” Before you’re fisting his collar to rise on the tips of your toes to press your lips hard against that irksome, delicious mouth.

Sylus’ hands curve about the give of your waist, fitting you firmer against the hard planes of him, without hesitance. He allows you free reign for a while before he chases your retreating mouth with his own, not sparing a moment of reprieve for the hungering breath you try and draw back into your lungs. His tongue slipping past your lips instead, granting you a taste and breath of what he alone affords you in that moment.

Your hand flies to grip about the base of his neck, appreciating the firm musculature of his upper back that flexes beneath your touch when he moves to snare an arm about your waist. Fingers sinking harsh into your hip as he grinds you impossibly close to his body, siphoning the rest of your breath from your lungs.

You’re near dizzy with the way his tongue licks into your mouth, tip teasing its way across the roof before it withdraws to slick a path against your wet bottom lip. You insist your grip harder against the back of his neck, dragging him back to you in the swelling smile he presses against your damp sighs — the drench of them flaming across your chest to pool low into your belly and settle deep in between your legs.

Sylus lets out a low grunt against your skin — a sound that has your insides clenching in on desire — before his clutch upon the flare of your hip tightens, hand curving downwards about the swell of your ass before he lifts you up entirely on the strength of one firm muscled arm. The whimper you’re unable to tamp even against the aggression of his mouth, at his show of unrestrained desire.

“Hold on tight now, sweetie.” He murmurs, sultry, against your lips.

Sylus strides you both further into the room without breaking your kiss, the corded strength of his arm sturdy beneath your ass and you take that moment to appreciate what the position allows you access to, fully. Covetous fingers you run through the hair at the base of his neck to tug him into the kiss as you wish — his rewarding grunt in answer, warming your belly — against your mouth.

Rushing down the buttoned line of his shirt, making quick work of undoing more of his buttons. A hand you slip past the edges of his shirt once the cloth against his chest is no longer impeding you, caressing your fingers against the hard planes of his pectorals. Sylus’ chuckle reverberates deep within your mouth, your fingers flexing into his shoulder at the sound. “Someone’s eager.”

He stops at your bedside before he tosses you back onto the soft of your sheets. Not giving you the chance to even hoist yourself up on your arms before he’s towering over your body — crowded against his large frame.

Chest heaving from the earlier stretch of your kisses and how he’d hurled you back onto the bed, you press a halting hand against his torso, playing at the lower buttons you weren’t able to undo earlier. Making hasty work of your remaining task before your fingers slide in welcome against the defined warmth of his abdomen.

Your mouth parts in breathless wonder, eyes drinking him in voracious need, before they slip lower towards the straining length of his arousal through the placket of his pants — a sizeable bulge visible even through the pitch-black material. “Like you’re one to talk about being eager.” you quip, inquisitive digits dipping lower to ghost across the clothed length of him.

His breath deepens at the touch, a thick chuckle slipping past his lips. “Point taken.”

Your hand slips to curve against the swell of his cock above cloth, once more, feeling for the shape of him; larger than any you’ve had before, it sets a flitter of nervous anticipation into your chest. You want to see it, him.

Sylus cocks his head at your inquisitive touches but doesn’t move to stop when your fingers work at the confines of his pants, until his arousal is far prominent beneath the remaining layer of his briefs. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight — he truly is big. Rather intimidating, entirely exciting.

“Having fun?” He inquires, capturing your fingers in between long, tapered digits to bring them up to his mouth in a brushing kiss, a keen garnet gaze that refuses to relent from yours.

“Yes,” you answer honestly.

“That’s a good start.” He hums. “My turn.”

Red and obsidian spiral about the length of your body, toying at the straps of your camisole, the edges of it at your belly before they’re dragging the material up across your body, and with the reveal of skin, Sylus’ eyes follow; the serrated intensity of his heated gaze, enough to have you try to squeeze your legs together on instinct to relieve some of the overbearing burn in between them.

You can feel how mortifyingly wet you are, and yet in that moment, your mind cannot seem to muster shame.

His thick fingers trail next across the waistband of your shorts — vined red making quick work of the ribboned bindings of the silken material before Sylus’ thumbs hook on either side, to drag your shorts and panties, torturously slow, down the plush of your thighs in one go.

He’s hunching over to overshadow you entirely before you can make sense of it, face sinking close into the space in between your legs, hot gaze drinking in the sight of the thin strings of arousal that stretch from your pussy to your underwear before they bow and break into the sheets beneath. You watch him hum his approval, your head raised to observe the erotic picture he paints, in between your legs.

A moan scratches free of your throat, your head falling back in shuddered pleasure when Sylus does not waste a single moment in ruining you; the broad pressure of his tongue you feel against the length of your quivering cunt as he swipes up a taste for himself before withdrawing once more.

“Sylus.” You protest, fingers rushing to catch at his hair to pull.

His gravelly laughter is devious against the inside of your thigh — so close to where you want him. “That’s a beautiful sound you’re making there, kitten.” He blows a hot breath against your centre, your pussy spasming at that bare action. “Let’s see if you’ve got any more of those for me.”

“Sylus.” You try and let the irritation ring in your tone this time but all it sounds to your ears is a licentious plead.

“I hear you, sweetheart.” He pulses a kiss against your outer folds. “I made you a deal, didn’t I?” He wrests his now loose shirt off his body before his touch returns to you once more, this time without the barrier of clothes in between you both.

You're entirely vulnerable and naked underneath him, held to his mercies as his forearms flex about the pliance of your thighs as he hooks them about his broad shoulders. “You’re going to let me make good on my word tonight,” your legs spasm against his back — useless — as he keeps them held within steeled grips at your knees; large fingers sinking deep into the soft flesh. “and witness it too, with your entire body.”

You feel the corded, hard strength of the muscles of his back flexing beneath the heels of your feet as Sylus ducks closer to your slit to suck at the pleasured bead of your apex. Your hips fly up on instinct at that first brush of stimulation, a moan crippled free of your lips. His smug smile you feel buried against your pussy when it gushes further against the skewed stretch of those lips. “And you know I never renege on an agreement once made.”

Your thoughts blank entirely the next time that adroit tongue lands against your drenched folds, his mouth swallowing you up entirely as he works at your slick with all the practised propensity of a devil set to wrecking you within your sheets.

You’ve never had a man’s mouth down there before; you didn’t quite think it were possible to feel anything remotely close to what he was doing with your body at the moment.

Sparks of jolting pleasure thrum throughout the length of your body, you’re not even fully aware of how hard you buck against his mouth. How Sylus thwarts each unconscious attempt of escape by dragging your pussy back to his mouth each time you squirm from the overwhelming sensation.

His growl of pleasure is what drags part of your hazy attentions back to how white knuckled your grip is within his hair, tugging at the strands as if they were your sole lifeline to sanity. And you were beginning to suspect they were.

Sylus’ knuckles brush against your tightened clit, knocking a groan of pleasure out of your throat. “You’re so wet.” He hooks a thick, tapered index up into your walls, clenching at his filthy words. “That’s it, sweetheart, keep doing that for me.” His laughter is a deep, hoarse sound. “I’m going to take all you’ve got for me.”

He laps a path up against the junction of your thigh; a second finger teasing at the rim of your slit before it joins the first, in a slick easy slide.

“Sylus,” You’re no longer caring; to your sounds, to the fact you’re dripping enough you’ve wet the sheets beneath his thrusting fingers. “Oh God, don’t stop. O-oh. God.” Not caring for the slight twinge of heat that sparks with the roll of your head to catch Sylus watching your entire downfall from in between the space of your legs; fervid scarlet gaze fixated to yours, the bow of your mouth in a constant, pleasured O curve as moans of senseless appreciation and babbled curses tumble from it. Even as his tongue laps a languid path against your outer folds, at screeching odds to the deft fingers he works into you.

“Yes,” his growl is vehement, pleased. “Scream louder, no one’s going to hear you mewl down here, kitten. Let go.” The squelch of your arousal is loud within your ears, the pads of his terrifyingly nimble digits lighting up nerves against that one spongy spot deep within you that has stars wheeling within your wide gaze.

And just as you think this is how he’s going to end you — the pinnacle of pleasure — he betrays your expectations once more with the hot slide of his tongue back against your clit. You nearly sob at the stimulation, a silent scream clawing up your bruised throat at how close you feel to breaking.

“I-If you—” your words are garbled, hard to breathe. You're so, so close to a peak you’ve never fallen off of, in this manner before. “—I’m... hah, going to come.” Never had your own toys or hand or even another human, scrabbled your brains out this hard; a height so vehemently approaching, you’re afraid to fall.

Sylus seems to understand you even through your incoherent babbling, stretching you open on his fingers in harder thrusts. “Then do it. Come on my tongue, darling.” His mouth sucks the abused flesh of your clit deep into his mouth. A peak so in sight, you hurtle into it, your pussy spasming about his fingers, his mouth so hard, you’re near thrashing your limbs about the broad strength of his shoulders. Sylus creeps a hand beneath your ass, to lift your back and shove up deeper against his mouth as you sob out his name in senseless prayer.

“That’s it, you’re so hot like this, you know that, kitten?” His guttural words, muted within your pussy and lost through the white daze of your prolonged orgasmic haze. Sylus continues to lap at you until you’re tumbling into buzzing overstimulation; the heavy weight of him like iron fetters at your legs as you weakly push at his face, his steeled shoulders in whimpered protest.

“I— give me a break, Sylus.”

He affords you a modicum of mercy, glistening mouth and chin withdrawing to rise from between the confines of your legs to fix a skewed grin at you. And when you meet his gaze, he makes a deliberate, erotic show of sweeping the broad of his tongue, slow, feral, against the edge of his upper lip.

His fingers maintain their languid position still within your sensitive walls, each measured thrust has you shivering against the intrusion.

You cup a hand about his strong neck, dragging him down towards your mouth. His voice low, heated in between the taste of yourself he sweeps into your mouth. “Enjoying yourself?”

You secrete a hushed sound of approval against his exploring tongue. “I’ve never come this hard in my life,” you confess, breathless. “You’re crazy.”

“I’ll take that as an enthusiastic compliment.” Knocking that smug grin of his only wider. And then, a softer whisper settles against your wet mouth. “You’re so good for me, sweetie. You drive me insane.”

You withdraw from him to catch the simmering heat of his fervid desires and affection commingled within that scarlet gaze you’re so taken with. Sweeping a thumb at the clinging wetness of arousal, against the angle of his jaw, you marvel at the sensual sight he paints. “...I’m no different.” You meet his gaze, your honesty heavy on your tongue.

He chuckles at the confession, canting his head to catch the plush of your thumb against his teeth, worrying at the flesh as he laves it up into his mouth on an obscene suck.

The way he looks at you has arousal flushing anew within your cheeks; your insides clenching in on the fingers that languorously thrust into you, stretching you open. Lashes nearly trembling shut when his thumb traces a whispered touch against your clit before withdrawing, having your hips juddering up into his hand.

Restless digits quiver down the length of his sculpted torso, working at releasing him from the rest of his un-wanted clothing; cut, well-tailored pants you’d more than once found yourself admiring him in but at the moment, you couldn’t survive a second longer without uncovering the entirety of his captivating body to your gaze. Sylus gently pulls out of your pussy to help you along, thick fingers running along yours at his buckle to slide is smooth out its confines before his Evol curls about the belt to toss it easy, at the side of his bed. His pants and briefs follow soon after and you nearly choke at the sight of him revealed at last to your gaze.

Sylus’ cock is a devastating thing of beauty; thick and intimidating enough it has you salivating at the mere sight of it. You’ve never seen a man this big, blessed in both length and girth, it has your cunt clenching in on need at the sight of him. You wonder how he’d feel against your tongue if you tried taking him in, parched lips you wet with a swipe of tongue, parting at the thought.

“Like what you see?” His self-pleased words wrench you out of your self-imposed stupor until you see that smug grin painting his face too. Your fingers delicately curve about the girth of him in a gentle squeeze; has grin falling open in a low, breathy laugh of arousal.

Your fingers unable to wrap him up entirely within a fist, even as you stroke a slow, steady path up across his length. “You’re right,” you murmur in wanton desire. “I do like what I see.”

“Such an honest tongue.” he groans low, in pleasure at your languid ministrations. Hooking a thumb at your bottom lip to tease it into your mouth and onto the wet muscle.

“Honesty isn’t the only thing it can provide, you know.” You bait, in breathless, risqué whispers around the intrusion of his thumb in your mouth, sucking at him in imitation of what you truly desire from him.

Sylus hums a pleased sound, withdrawing his finger to sweep it across your swollen lips. “Later.” He silences your protests with the wet ingress of his digits back into your walls. “You’ll have me, you have my word. But right now...” Your broken moan mingles with the guttural sigh that tumbles from his lips to witness your face shatter in pleasure. “we’re here to see how good I can make you feel, aren’t we, kitten? So, lay back.” He eases the flat of his palm in between your breasts to push. “And watch how else I ruin you tonight.”

You moan at his filthy threat of a promise, hips rolling into the fingers he’s pressed into you, their rhythmic propulsions turning faster with each moment until he has your crest building once more.

“Sylus.” you gasp out, fingers spasming around the wrist buried in between your quaking legs.

“What do you need, sweetheart?” He draws down closer, body crowding yours against the sheets, the heat of his breath sultry against your sweat soaked skin. You feel the weight of his arousal ghost a searing path against your thigh and jump at the stimulation.

“You.” you plead. “I need you so stop teasing me now, Sylus. I’ll—”

His lips capture yours in an incendiary kiss, a violent clash of tongue, drinking your startled mewls up into his own as his fingers curl about the back of your head to hold steady underneath his assault. “You sure you’re ready for it?” He rolls his hips against yours once more in emphasis, making you shiver underneath the intimidating heat of his arousal.

“I am, I can take it.” you insist against his wet tongue. “And even if I can’t, you promised you’d show me how good it can get, didn’t you?” You shiver. “So quit edging me any longer and put it inside me.” Your back arches in need at a particularly adept press of his fingers. “Sylus.”

His answering groan at your fervent desires burns you higher, his soaked fingers dragging out of your clenching walls. “You really do know how to rile me up, don’t you, sweetheart?” Large hands settle about the swell of your hips as Sylus presses himself in between your legs. Letting the head of his cock, at long last, stroke at the wetness of your cunt, gathering moisture on to it. So close.

His hips undulate in languid pleasurable strokes in between the fall of your legs, and each time the flared head of his cock bumps up at the tight bead at your apex, your hips try and jump against the caged strength of his hands holding you down. Every single stroke — up, down — has your breaths turning laboured in need, each single time he brushes down close to your hole, you clench in on instinctual emptiness, wanting to pull him deeper into you.

“Some restraint, kitten. We don’t want you too overwhelmed too fast.” A low sound of disapproval soughs past his lips at your squirming. “Impatience is not a good look on a Hunter of your repute.”

Your mouth falls open on a silent groan; hooking a leg about the snatch of his waist, you try and urge him into you. Earning an amused, guttural laugh for your efforts. “You’ve had me plenty ready. You’re just baiting me at this point.”

“But you like me being this way, don’t you?” And God help you, if your brain wasn’t entirely mushed at what he’s done to you, you would’ve tried refute his observations with a lie of your own. But in this moment, you let him have his victory.

Sylus curves a palm about the crook of your leg, fingers ghosting the underside of sensitive skin, up, until his hold catches at your knee. Keeping you fixed firm down onto the bed with the other, while he rolls his hips against you once more. “Keep holding tight,” he taps at your knee hooked at his back one last time before his hand drifts to curl about the base of his cock, pressing more of your slick up against the bulbous head.

The first breach of him burns you open in pleasurable bliss, you hiss at the intrusion, back arching on instinctual chase of the man you’re so drunk on. Just the head in has you dizzy around him, grateful for the anchor of his large hand holding you grounded, at your hip.

More of his member pushes past your rim; Sylus’ grunt of pleasure breaking in the tight scrunch of his brow in concentration. A thumb flits about your pinched bottom lip, end to end, before he’s coaxing it open with a firmer press of the pad of his digit against it. “Breathe for me, sweetheart.” You don’t think your body is capable of drawing air in at all but you try and trudge past the closure of your throat, gulping in a few, needed breaths. “That’s it, yeah, take me in. Slowly now.”

It’s only when your body shudders underneath his with the ingress of almost his entire length settled into you do you realize the sheer, unyielding size of him inside, Sylus’ throaty groan of arousal, he bites into the sensitive skin of your wrist he’s had curled in between thick digits. Your cunt feels stretched impossibly wide around the shape of him, in a manner that has you whimpering on his next few testing strokes up into your walls. Sending him curling impossibly deep on each long, heavy thrust up into you until you feel him nudging, as if at the very ends of you.

Your head rolls in restless need across the down of your pillows, your fingers skittering up the length of his arms, sinking harsh into the taut muscles of his biceps. Angry crescents you’re sure you’re marking into the skin but all it seems to do to him is make him push into you with greater need, approval heavy in the fervid grunts that issue from his mouth.

One of his hands steals beneath your body to press in between your shoulder blades, guiding your body deeper against his as his hips piston into you. The wet squelch of your arousal heavy in the space, commingling with your damp, thick groans.

Sylus withdraws from your body on his next slide, nearly all the way out, before he pulses back, slick, without resistance; each time, your body taken by the pleasant shock of how fully he sheathes himself into you, the stretch sending you into a dizzying spiral of mounting need.

And despite it all — the hazy pleasure, his long, deep strokes into you — your ravenous body needs this man closer, a desire you aren’t able to word coherently.

Sylus’ diligent handling of you — although, a gesture appreciated — is not what you require of him in the moment. He’s your first in so, so long; desires shuttered in since forever, along with the intense need to be thoroughly loved over by this man; your need to have him fuck you without restraint, after a heart so long spent in warring against its yearning for him, overflowing off the cusp of your poor control. Manifesting in the fingers you rush about the angled cut of his hips to squeeze, your legs tightening their hold at the back of his waist to pull deeper inside.

Your eyes meet his in fevered haze; a slip of your tongue to drench parched lips, falling open to voice your desires before Sylus’ face crowds your vision. His mouth pulsing a quick kiss of violence against yours, it siphons your entire breath from your lungs at the aggressive curl of his tongue into you. “Alright,” he utters on a wet, hoarse whisper against your lips. No more questions, no more unsurety. “I’ll give you what you need.”

He’s gingerly worked himself into you up to the near base of him when large hands move to grip on either side of your abdomen, the pads of them pulsing into the pliance of your skin — heated scaffoldings of flesh. Heralding the slow, squelching withdrawal of his cock from your depths up to the tip. Until Sylus plunges back into you with a force vehement enough you see stars white the scape of your vision with the audible slap of hips meeting the back of your ass.

And it isn’t until he starts driving into you in that punishing pace, manoeuvring your body as if you were a mere doll meant to house his cock do you realize with primal joy that you love how he’s taking you. You’re delirious on the feeling of his cock ramming up into your walls — the massive stretch of him, each single inch of hot, unyielding flesh — hard enough he’s driving you up the sheets, your voice you do not realize is a shrill scream of pleasure.

Everything — you, him, your hot, clenching insides around him — is all too much, all of a sudden, you’re drowning in the ecstasy of the feeling of him overwhelming your senses.

And the man above, an unfettered beast; he folds you deeper into the mattress with the ardent swing of his hips, large hands gripping hard onto your waist as he guides your own weak thrusts back onto his cock with ferocious precision. Each single glide of the swollen head of his cock dragging him deliciously against that one spot inside that has you quivering apart around him. A deliberate assault of your sweet weakness. Truly, he knows your body as if he’d had you before several times already; the thought is as exhilarating as it is terrifying, having your pussy spasm around him on instinct, dragging a vicious growl out of him that has you whimpering at the sound.

The sweat slicked concentration and fervid arousal that knits at his powerful brows is addictive, the heated flush of pleasure and effortless exertion — all of him an erotic sight, meant to throttle you into finishing ruin. The violent tatters of your orgasm you feel crumpling within your belly, fast approaching.

You try and buck against his hips faster, pace paling in comparison to the near bestial propulsion of his cock into your depths. Sylus groans at a particularly harsh squeeze of your cunt; a hand leaving your waist to feather his knuckles against the drenched slide of sweat and tears at your cheeks you know are ruddy in desire. “You’re taking me so well, kitten, so deep inside that small body.” You might’ve offered a word of approval if your throat wasn’t so swollen from the breathless moans and ruinous pleas he’s knocking out of you instead. “You’re clamping so hard around my cock. Do you not want to let me go?” His large hand drifting against the lower stretch of your abdomen, before he presses the flat of his palm in deep, as if he could feel for the place his cock pounds up as if against your very womb, angling his hips to brush at the sensitive bundle of nerves at your apex and you nearly weep at the tight stimulation.

“C-Clo—” is all the words your battered throat can manage out before your head’s falling back against the pillows, tear-strained gaze blown wide with the unrelenting intensity of his pillage of your body.

But Sylus groans in approval, understanding of your broken prompts. “I’ve got you. Let that pretty pussy of yours weep more for me, sweetheart.”

You moan unabated at the filth that issues from his lips, your body immediately moving to obey his instruction in the spasm of your walls.

His hand slides against the length of your hooked leg to hoist it up and over a broad shoulder as his large frame arches over you, nearly folding you in half. The new angle driving each of his wild thrusts hard against your swollen clit. Your back nearly snapping with the force of its curve up towards him with your next shrill scream of his name. “What a perfect, perfect girl for me.”

You're no longer coherent, a garbled speech and cotton head your constant companions — only dimly aware of the muted sounds of wood striking against concrete walls as Sylus drives your body violently up against the headboard. The distant absence of pain you only realize is possible when your cheek curls sideways to sink against the simmering warmth of the red and obsidian mesh of his Evol, keeping your head pillowed against the strength of his thrusts.

His face descends towards you, a thick hand easing beneath sweat soaked locks to grip at your neck, holding firm for the ravenous mouth that plunders yours, choking your moans against his tongue. Your spit trails useless past swollen lips, Sylus’ tongue immediately following a broad path against your jaw, your chin to lick at the combined essence of sweat and spit. His guttural moan at the taste, sending you nearly into your orgasm, so close at hand, you’re spasming useless about the great length of him.

Long, tapered digits flex about the delicate expanse of your neck, coaxing your pleasure-drunk gaze up towards his. “The way you’re looking right now...” You catch the flex of his other arm at the corners of your vision as it slinks in between your bodies. “a man could get addicted, sweetie.” His thumb presses against the abused bead of your apex in that instant, knocking a scream free of your parched throat, body arching in the slick slide of your breasts pressed flush against the broad planes of his chest. Even that stimulation at your nipples is too much; the heat in between your legs tempered to an inferno.

The precise, perfect strikes of his cock into your walls, along with the insistent pinch and press of your clit in between adroit index and thumb has your crest rising. White hot heat undulates through your entire body. The merciless sting of a delicious bite you feel Sylus sink at your straining neck, right beneath your jaw, “Come for me now, sweetheart,” accompanying the hammering thrusts of his cock, his thumb at your bundle of nerves is what finally has you ripping apart on an orgasm so intense your gaze blanks entirely.

Jaw falling open on a shriek so unlike yours, you do not recognize the sound of your own battered voice until Sylus presses two thick digits into your slack mouth to toy at your wet tongue as if he could capture that sound for himself. “You’re so damn beautiful.” His pace unrelenting through the violence of your orgasm, stretching your own peak so long, spasming about the wet heat of him until Sylus’ hips too stutter as he finds his release into your welcoming depths.

Pulse after pulse of ejaculate so abundant, hot, it drives you into another release — or perhaps, you’d never even stopped coming — a pinnacle so high, your fall from it is prolonged, pleasurable. Your mouth sucking hard at his fingers, willing them to serve your anchor.

Sylus’ gaze meets yours from across the small pocket of space in between your faces, heated and stifled with your breaths. Scarlet eyes, simmering, pupils blown so wide in low settling arousal as the two of you breathe deep in unison. Several moments of reprieve, you allow your bodies as you come down from your highs.

A small part of you distantly realizes a single session with Sylus has effectively ruined you for life and you’re unsure if you’re bemoaning the fact or thrilling in delight at it. You think you just might be far more infatuated with this infuriating man than you’d initially thought and the notion of being this adoring of him mildly terrifies you. Just as the sliver of tenderness that threads through that garnet gaze as he pushes back sweat soaked strands from your face to study you. “You alright there, sweetie?”

You can’t deny it any longer. “Never been better.” you wheeze past a sore throat. And God help you, the grin that skews at his beautiful mouth at your answer has your heart refusing to settle into rest, even after your mind-numbing release.

“That good, was it?” You do not have the energy to refute him, settling for a light slap at his bicep.

His arms flex about your body before he rolls you both over. Releasing himself, slow, from your depths — you groan weakly at the muted stimulation before he hoists himself onto his arm.

You reach a hand forwards, curving it about his face, thumb sketching at the angle of his jaw. “Stay with me tonight.” you ask of him quietly.

Mild surprise flickers within blood-red garnet before it’s replaced by the tender quirk of a strong brow. “Didn’t plan on leaving, sweetheart.” He tips his head further into the crook of your palm, pulsing a quick kiss onto the skin. “Sleep tight, now. Your eyes are glazing over.”

And for that one moment, you listen, letting the warmth of his engulfing embrace shepherd you into dreams of scarlet eyes and amused smiles — the only ones you’ve been able to think about for a long time now.

End Notes: Tagging as requested: @samanthagnicole , @catboi-anon , @bitches4lifebro , @beebumbo , @hellinistical , @chocomii-chan

If you’d like to be tagged in my future stories, you can fill this short form here. If you’d like to be removed, shoot me a DM!

You can also find me on Ao3 and twitter, if you’d like to chat or just squeal with me about hot characters, in general.

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artianwen · 7 months ago

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thanks to YOU edgeworth I am being saddled with unnecessary PESTERING!!!!!

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steddie-as-they-come · 1 year ago

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Steve's pinning his polaroids up on his wall when his new roommate walks in.

Steve's immediate thought is oh, I'm gonna hate this guy.

Shaggy hair, leather jacket, rings glinting off his fingers, electric guitar slung over his back. Hot as hell, but compared to Steve's polos and perfectly coiffed hair, they could not be more different.

The guy looks like he had the same thought. His shoulders slump as he takes in Steve's appearance.

A man comes in behind his roommate, toting a suitcase full of clothes. "Oh, are you Eddie's roommate?" he says to Steve, who shakes himself out of his thoughts.

"Yes, I am." he says politely. "I'm Steve Harrington."

The man sets down the suitcase. "Wayne Munson." he offers, shaking Steve's hand. "I'm Eddie's uncle."

He nudges Eddie forward, who lets out an almost inaudible groan. "Eddie." he says snippily, shaking Steve's hand.

This'll be a fun year, Steve thinks.

They don't talk. Steve didn't think he was going to be best friends with whoever he got saddled with, but he thought they could at least be civil to each other. Their room is split down the middle. Eddie's half is absolutely covered in posters and music and cutouts of magazines. Steve's is...almost as blank as his room back home.

He misses the shitheads.

No one can ever tell them that. They'll get even more insufferable.

Once or twice, when Steve comes back from a class, he'll catch Eddie peering at Steve's pictures, but he’ll jump away before Steve can call him out on it. It's awful. Steve misses Robin.

It takes him a horribly long amount of time to stop flinching awake at every little sound. He'd stored his nailbat under his bed, out of sight of Eddie, but every time someone yells in the hallway or shouts in the room next door, Steve startles awake, already grabbing his bat. Luckily, Eddie sleeps like the dead, because Steve's not sure he'd be able to explain the weapon without breaking his NDA.

It's three A.M., early November, when there's a knock on their door. Steve isn't asleep yet, so he stands and answers it.

Eight people pile in, talking in hushed whispers. They slam into him, knocking him over.

In the middle of the hug, Steve counts his kids. It's Dustin, nestled against his side, then Lucas, El, and Will under his arm, Max draped over his back, Erica leaning into his shoulder, and Mike on the very outskirts of the group. He pulls them all in tighter, and they all yelp and squawk at him.

"Let us go, Steve!" Erica says, annoyed.

"Nope." Steve says. "You came to find me at three in the morning, you can tolerate a hug."

"Shoo, move." another voice says, and all the kids part like the sea. Robin pushes her way through the group and hugs him tightly. "I don't know how you do it." she says to Steve. "Driving all these nerds around, it's exhausting."

He buries his face in her hair. "Missed you, Robbie." he mumbles.

She leans her head against his. "Missed you too, dingus."

Steve pulls back. "You got your license!"

"I did!" Robin jingles her keys happily.

Eddie sits up, and everyone in the room freezes. "Wha's happenin'?" he slurs sleepily. Then he registers all the people in the room. "Whoa, what the fuck?"

Steve stands up, brushing himself off. "I'm sorry, man, I didn't know they were coming." He shoots a glare at the group, who looks appropriately cowed. Minus Dustin. Steve can now see whose idea this was.

Eddie swings out of bed. "No, it's- wait, are these the kids from your polaroids?"

"Yeah," Steve says. "Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Will, El, Max, Erica, and this is my best friend Robin."

"Awww, you have polaroids of us?" Max teases over his shoulder. "That's sweet."

Steve reaches behind him and tussles her hair, shoving her gently. "Shut up, shithead."

"Your room is cool." Mike says. "Not Steve's side. But this part is cool!"

Steve glares at Mike, but Eddie grins big. "Thanks! I'm Eddie Munson." He shakes Mike's hand.

"Is that a DnD poster?" Will says. "That's amazing!"

"It certainly is!" Eddie says. "I used to DM back in high school. Played a bit too."

The nerdier section of the group reacts appropriately, oohing and ahhing, while Max and Erica just roll their eyes and nudge each other.

Steve hesitates. “I know these guys don’t really do anything on Saturday afternoons, and I think they’ve been wanting to start another campaign. Would you mind if they come up, maybe every weekend, and you can…” he doesn’t know enough about DnD “…run a game for them?”

Eddie looks amused. “You mean DM a campaign?”

“Yeah, that.” It’s an olive branch that Steve’s offering.

Eddie takes it. “Well, how can I turn that down? Sheepies of the Harrington flock, how would you like to join a new campaign?”

“I’ll keep the rest of you occupied,” Steve mutters as the guys (and El) start talking excitedly. “Max, Rob, you guys wanna find the closest arcade and set some new high scores?”

“Only one person will be setting high scores.” Max says, gesturing to herself, but she looks excited at the prospect.

Steve lets Eddie and the kids talk for a couple more minutes, then claps his hands. “Okay, it is three in the morning and I have a nine A.M. class tomorrow SO! I have enough blankets for all of you to sleep on the floor if Eddie doesn’t mind-“ Eddie shrugs. “Or Rob can drive you back home.”

Steve looks around and Robin is already in his bed, cuddled up like the blanket hog she is. “Okay, well, sleepover here it is then.”

He whisks out his ungodly amount of throw blankets (courtesy of Joyce’s knitting spree) and the kids get together in their usual movie-night-at-Steve’s cuddle position.

Will’s got his head on Mike’s shoulder, Lucas next to Mike, Max leaning on Lucas, El’s head in Max’s lap and her legs thrown over Dustin’s lap, and Erica with her back against Dustin’s shoulder. Sometimes Robin and Steve are wedged into the pile somewhere, but just as often they’re tangled up under six different blankets across the room, which is why Steve whispers “Scoot over, dumbass,” as he climbs into bed next to Robin.

Eddie watches them assume their positions with an expression of what could be awe on his face. “When I saw those pictures,” he whispered, “I thought they were like your siblings? Or maybe old pictures of your friends. I didn’t think you were a soccer mom.”

Steve glares at him, but unlike earlier in the year, there’s no heat behind it. “Hope you like coparenting then, because these guys need to be watched 24/7 or they’ll run off and start the apocalypse.”

Eddie laughs like it’s a joke. To him it is. He hops back into bed. “Goodnight, weird little family.”

The kids murmur a collective sleepy goodnight, and Steve shuts his eyes.

It’s the most relaxed he’s felt since he moved in.

part two!

#based on the running joke between me and my roommate that my robotics kids are gonna break into my dorm room #one of them just got his license and im now even more worried #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #college au #pre relationship

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thewritetofreespeech · 6 months ago

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Cooler Heads Will Prevail

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

summary: it's too hot to do anything in the States. Except apparently write Aemond x Reader smut about how it's too hot.

tags: heterosexual sex, fingering, sex outdoors, aemond speaking High Valyrian cause it's sexy, Vhagar being sassy in the background.

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“Gods how can you stand to wear that?”

You felt ten times hotter just looking at your husband, dressed in his traditional black & leathers, as he sat next to you while you baked in this heat. Even with all the windows and curtains open, dressed in the thinnest dress that modesty could cling to, and servants fanning you both like Dornish aristocracy, you still felt like you were melting.

“It is all a matter of perspective, my dear wife.” Aemond replied. Not looking up from his book. “And will power.”

You groan and drop your own book, spreading out as far as your limbs would go on the chaise. You despised these hot summers. Everything was hot. Everything you touched, including yourself, was sticky. You felt like every breath was drawing in more hot air, which in turn made you hotter, and considerably cranky. It was too hot to do anything.

Aemond glanced up at you with his good eye, then closed his books. The servants scatter when the prince stood. Taking away what little precious, if fruitless, relief you had. “Are you really that miserable?” He asked, leaning over you with one arm pressed against the back of the chaise.

“Just look at me.”

“I am.” His mouth coiled into a smirk as he leaned further down to kiss you.

But you turn your head away with an unsatisfied huff. “It’s too hot.” Though you loved Aemond unconditionally, apparently it had its limits. He’d have to wait until the sun went down, at the very least, before you would consider touching him.

The prince huffed. “Fine. Get up.”

You didn’t have time to ask Aemond why before he was grabbing your hand and hoisting you to your feet. Dragging you along behind him as you tried to keep up with his impressive gait thanks to those long legs.

Your protests & questions stopped halfway through your journey, and Aemond finally let your hand go once the two of you reached the Dragonpit. Vhagar’s indominable frame taking up most of the space a lotted to her as she coolly acknowledged her rider then settled back down. “What are we doing here?”

“Leaving the city.” Aemond was already mounting Vhagar. Settled into her saddle before he reached out to you with his hand.

You often dreamed of being a dragon rider. To be up in the skies. To command giants. But you didn’t have the blood for it. Instead, you just admired them from afar. “I thought you said Vhagar didn’t like secondary riders.”

“Vhagar does not like any rider but me.” He clarified. “But she will not harm you. Trust me.”

You did trust Aemond. Still, you glance over to Vhagar, looking into her giant eye for permission, who looked back at you for a long moment before she blinked with her inner lid and turned her gaze from you. You took that as a yes and grabbed Aemond’s hand.

He hoisted you up into the saddle with ease. Seating you in front of him. His legs on either side of you as he fastened you both to the harness before taking the reins. “sōvēs Vhagar.”

The dragon rose from her seat. Seeming annoyed about it, but you couldn’t be sure. She took three long strides before her wings were aloft and you were up in the air. You close your eyes tight. Gripping Aemon’s thighs on either side as you felt your stomach try to drop all the way back to the ground. “Open your eyes.” Aemond’s voice brushed against your ear, louder than the rushing air around you. You do as he says. With one at first, then opening both to see the beautiful bright sky around you and white, fluffy clouds. It was breath taking.

You aren’t brave enough to look down, but after a while Aemond shouted, “tegot Vhagar,” and the dragon circled around a patch of Earth before gracefully hurling itself towards it.

When you landed Aemond undid your bindings and jumped down. He held his arms out towards you, waiting for you to jump, and easily caught you when you fell into his open arms. “Where are we Aemond?”

The prince shrugged, “somewhere North.” That was all he said before he stalked off into the woods past the clearing.

You look around and admire the beauty of the small forest, before you follow after your husband. Vhagar seemed fine on her own to resume her nap while you both went on your walk to wherever Aemond was going. “Aemond, what are we doing here?”

“You said you were hot.” He told you. In a tone that implied ‘we just talked about this’ as he cut through the path.

“Yes. But why are we here?” It was significantly cooler, but still summer. The balminess of the city had been replaced with the natural humidity of the trees. One evil for a lesser one.

Aemond didn’t answer this time and instead pushed past the last of the greenery to reveal a second clearing. Sun dappled, with trees and flowers circling a natural freshwater pond, in a perfect idyllic scene. “Gods…It’s beautiful.”

“We did not come all this way just to look at it.”

You turn to Aemond to see him already unbuttoning his jerkin. “You cannot be serious.” Apparently, he was, as he was already tossing his jerkin aside and pulling off his under tunic. “Aemond?? We’re in the middle of nowhere!”

“Exactly. No one will find us.” His belt, boots, and pants quickly made it into the pile. His small clothes next. Then finally his eye patch. “Are you coming or not?” You stare at Aemond, a little slack jawed, as he stood there completely naked. As if you were the crazy one for not joining him.

Fingers carefully come up to your lacings. Fumbling with the strings as your embarrassment makes the digits unable to cooperate properly. Aemond was right, no one would see you. But this was still the first time you had been naked ‘in public’. Ladies did not go around the world in the nude. Although, apparently, a Targaryen’s woman did.

Aemond grinned as he watched you let loose your dress, then walked backwards a few paces before he turned and walked over to one of the rocks. Standing on it, like some Valyrian statue, before he jumped in. You were not nearly as brave, and shyly stepped into the water from its calm shore with your hands protecting your modesty.

The water was like ice on your overheated skin, but it felt so good! You let out a sigh and relax. Sinking neck deep into the water as you pulled your knees to your chest to float. “Feeling better?” You turn to look at Aemond as he swam up to you. His long hair floating behind him like a silver net. Looking more triton than dragon at the moment. You offer him a soft smile and nod.

The prince smiled back. Then he floated to his center before he stood, able to reach the bottom and have the water just barely brush past his navel. “Can I kiss you now?”

You looked up at Aemond, who was looking back down at you, waiting for an answer. Your smile broadens and you release your knees to stand on your own feet as well. The water just barely kissing your breasts in comparison. “Yes Aemond, you can kiss me.”

He looked so pleased. As if all this effort was worth it as he took your chin in his fingers to tilt your lips to his. You moan at the first contact of his tongue against yours. Hells…how long had it been since you kissed him properly.

You had not been joking when you said it was too hot to do anything. That included laying with your husband. Though you shared the same bed, the most you had done for the past weeks was brief kisses & touches before shunting off to your separate corners of the mattress. Desperate not to add anymore heat to your person.

Now that you were cooled off, a renewed heat was swelling up inside you. “Aemond…”

The man in question pulled back just a hair’s breadth to look at you. The hand once tilting up your chin now brushing water droplets from your cheek. “I have missed you, issa jorrāelagon.”

“I know.” And you felt guilty for that. “I’ve missed you too.” Together seperately had been the way things had been with this heat. But now you were somewhere cool, calm, and secluded with your husband.

You latch on to Aemond like a drowning man. His body your life raft. His kiss your air. He pulled you in with equal fervor and you felt his longing press against your belly. Hot and hard, despite the cold water. “Aemond…” You gasp again. Intentionally brushing against him to feel more of his manhood and eager to have not against your belly but inside it. “Please…”

The prince growled and kissed you again. His teeth nipping possessively at your lips this time, before he pulled you into his arms and wrapped your legs around him. Carrying you out of the water with ease and laying you on the soft grass that would be your marriage bed for the afternoon.

Aemond continued to kiss you. Letting you go for a moment before peppering your lips, face, and neck with more kisses. As if he couldn’t decide what he wanted to do next with you. “You should be like this at all times.”

“Underneath you?” You respond cheekily.

“Naked.” He corrected. Your head tipping back as his arm slipped betwixt you and his fingers began toying with your sex. “You wouldn’t be so hot. And we would no longer have to deal with those ridiculous laces.”

“I don’t think your mother would appreciate such a ‘casual’ manner of dress at court.” You gasp sharply as two of Aemond’s fingers suddenly slipped inside you. Clearly a diversion in the conversation as he doesn’t want to talk about his mother right now.

“Hmmm…it is probably for the best. I’d gouge out the eye of any man who would look at you besides me. Then I would no longer be unique.”

“Certainly less fashionable.” Another sharp gasp escapes you as Aemond’s fingers curled up inside you against that spot that made you see stars. Silently telling you that if you didn’t stop with the cheek you were going to get it. ‘Good’ you thought.

His fingers continued to work you open as his mouth swallowed your cries. “Aemond!” You shouted when his thumb brushed against your pearl. Pushing at his shoulders while your legs shook at the intense feeling, but he wouldn’t stop. He let you go long enough to let your climax cry come out clearly. Loud and pure. Birds fluttering off in the distance that were startled by the sound.

“You’re so beautiful when you quake for me.”

“Only you.”

Your hand came up to stroke his face. Hard lines. Soft expression. Your fingertip brushes against just the end of his scar before trailing down to flick his bottom lip. Red and swollen from your kissing. Vibrant against his cool, alabaster skin. Perfect.

“Make me quake for you again my love.” Your legs splayed wide for him. Making space for him and his cock in your drooling cunt.

Aemond doesn’t have to be told anything twice and he descended on you. Lining up his cock, pushing it inside you with coiled control just waiting to snap, waiting there until you were ready. You let him know you were ready by jutting your hips a bit. Your prince looking at your face for a moment to make sure before that coiled control snapped clean.

The two of you rut in the forest like animals. Grunting and moaning and the wet sound of slapping skin. Aemond spread your legs wider for him. Letting him thrust harder and deeper into you. Your head fell back against the damp grass. The sweet smell mixed with your sweat making you dizzy while the sharp climb towards a second climax made you lightheaded.

You will your eyes open to look at Aemond. His eye fixed only on you. Almost completely black like the stories portrayed him. Black enough that it looked as though it had bled into his sapphire. But this was not the eyes of a monster, but a beast. Your beast. Your one and only, as this look as just for you.

“A-Aemond!” You shout again. Fingers clenched in his wet tresses. Whole body shaking around him this time. Aemond’s teeth clenched to the point they look like they might break before he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His own hips stuttered as his warmth filled you up.

The two of you laid there for a moment. Catching your breath. Sated in one another until Aemond likely feels he’s too heavy for you and rolls off you to the side. “We should head back.”

You turn your head to look at him. Wounded. Did it have to be right now? “The sun will be setting soon. It will not be as hot upon our return.”

You look back up at the sky and indeed see the shadows had gotten longer since your arrival. “Must we?”

Aemond chuckled at your plea. Rolling back over to your side to coil his body around you like a serpent. Head on your shoulder. You know he had missed this almost as much as the other. “Not right now.” He agreed. “But soon. We can come back whenever you’d like though.”

“Tomorrow?” He laughed again.

“Whenever you’d like.”

The two of you bask in the moment and beautiful scenery for a little while longer. Enjoying the cool and the quite before you had to return to the hot and the mayhem. You dress in silence. Then Aemond walked you both back down the path towards his dragon. Vhagar not seeming to notice one way or the other that you’ve been gone.

The heat hits you instantly once you break the perimeter of the city. Cooler than before but still sweltering. “I’m going to take a cool bath before bed.” You tell your prince as he gave his dragon a few goodbye pet before he left her for the day. “Care to join me?”

Only one thing could pull Aemond’s attention away from his dragon, and he turned to look over his shoulder at you with a smug grin. “Missing me already, issa jorrāelagon.”

“Oh yes.” You playfully agree as you walk backwards when Aemond came close. “I don’t know. Something about dragon riding puts me in the mood for….‘dragon riding’.”

The true rider grinned and closed the gap between you with quick ease. “Why do you think I seem never to want to keep my hands off you?” He pulled you in for a new kiss. Passionate, yes, but not nearly as fierce as before. You were back in the walls. Back in your cages. You had to be restrained lest other people talked. Because gods forbid a man & a wife actually fancied each other. He let you go and it was your turn to lead Aemond by the hand.

The weather was hot. But summer would eventually break. By the time winter came you intended to know all sorts of new ways to keep warm.

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 6 months ago

Note

Saving Jacaerys during the battle of the gullet? I am not ready for this moment

Who else is not ready for this? I have not read the book, but I know it will be a sad day

Warnings: mention of injuries, death of a dragon,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Arrows were being shot by the fleet of the Triarchy and Jacaerys was making a big mistake making Vermax fly too low, but you were too high in the sky for him to hear your warning.

Time seemed to slow as the inevitable happened: a crossbow bolt struck Vermax in the eye. The dragon let out a pained roar, spiraling uncontrollably before crashing into the sea below. The sight tore at your heart, but there was no time for hesitation.

Wasting no time, you commanded your dragon to go down, diving swiftly and weaving through the storm of arrows with remarkable agility. The salty sea air stung your face as you descended, your mind racing with fear and determination.

The chances that Jacaerys survived such a fall was slim, but you had to know for sure. You had to see for yourself.

As you neared the water, you could see the wreckage of Vermax in the churning waves. His green scales and the red of his wings. A tear fell from your eye.

Please be alive. Please be alive.

Tearing your gaze from Vermax's lifeless form, you scanned the chaotic waters and the fires spreading across the wreckage. Suddenly, a splash of movement caught your eye. Jacaerys had managed to leap free and was now clinging desperately to a piece of wood from a shattered ship. Relief surged through you, mentally thanking the gods.

You turned in his direction, but before you could get to him, an arrow sliced through the air, striking Jacaerys in the shoulder. He cried out in pain, his grip on the makeshift raft faltering as the arrow pierced his flesh.

‘’Dracarys!’’ you commanded, fury fueling your voice.

Your dragon responded instantly, unleashing a torrent of fire upon the ship from which the arrow had been fired. The flames consumed the attackers, their screams lost in the roar of the blaze. Satisfaction filled your blood. Hurt the ones you love, and taste the revenge of the dragon.

You called Jacaerys’ name and he looked up, his face pale with pain and exhaustion. He had a cut on his face and his shoulder was bleeding from the arrow, which was still in his shoulder.

For a moment, relief washed over him, but it was short-lived as a wave crashed over him. He tried to hoist himself back onto the piece of debris but winced as a jolt of pain flared up his arm. His fingers slipped, wet from saltwater, and he fell back into the cold water, gasping for breath as he resurfaced.

Carefully, your dragon hovered just above the surface, and you reached out a hand, tightly holding the handle of your saddle with your other so you wouldn’t fall in the waters too. ‘’Take my hand!’’

With a grimace, Jacaerys stretched out his good arm, and you pulled him up with all your strength, straining against the weight of his soaked clothes and his own weakened state. He settled in the saddle behind you, safely. You felt him shivering behind you, the cold of the water and the blood loss clearly taking its toll.

You needed to get back to Dragonstone quickly before cold would take him. You ascended into the air, wings beating heavily against the wind as you fled the scene, escaping the deadly range of the Triarchy's arrows.

‘’You...you came for me,’’ Jacaerys said, his voice weak from the ordeal.

‘’Of course I came for you,’’ you retorted, your voice a mix of concern and annoyance. What kind of wife would you be if you didn’t come to your husband’s rescue?

Once you landed on Dragonstone, you called out for a maester. Jacaerys’ clothes had dried a little on the journey back, but he was still cold…and bleeding. You asked the servants to fetch him dry clothes and followed Maester Gerardys, who took care of Jacaerys’ wounds. He carefully removed the arrow out and stitched the wound, stopping the bleeding. By the look of pain on Jacaerys’ face, it must not have been pleasant.

The fire in the hearth crackled, slowly warming up the prince. His wet clothes were discarded on the floor and replaced by dry ones before settling into the chair by the fire, his silence deep and heavy, thinking back to everything that just happened.

You gently draped a blanket over his shoulders, enveloping him in a cocoon of warmth. ‘’What were you thinking, flying so low?’’

Jacaerys looked down. His lack of battle training and knowledge was what got him into this situation. What caused Vermax's death. A tear rolled down his cheek but he wiped it away.

You sat on the second chair, still in your riding gear. ‘’You need to be more careful, Jace,’’ you scolded gently, concern lacing your words. ‘’You're not some invincible warrior. You're the Prince of Dragonstone, your mother’s heir. Your life is too important to risk like that.’’

Your words came from a good place, but Jacaerys wanted to scream. He was tired of hearing people saying his life was important. He wanted to be on the battlefield and come up with strategies, he wanted to do something to be part of this war.

But hearing the discourse from you felt different. To you, his life was more important than any of his titles.

Jacaerys sighed. ‘’I'm sorry,’’ he said, his voice tinged with pain and regret. ‘’I was just...I guess I was trying to prove myself. I don't want to be known as the prince who sat on Dragonstone and let others die fighting for his mother's throne.’’

You understood where he was coming from, but proving himself to others was not worth jeopardizing his life.

‘’You don't need to prove yourself by being reckless and throw your life away. The Queen would not bear losing another child. I would not bear losing you.’’

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden @memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08 @mymultiveres @secretsthathauntus @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection @withfireandbl00d @randomstory56 @JudgmentDays-Girl @darylandbethfanforever9 @darylandbethfanforever9 @aegonswife @dakotapaigelove @jays-bullshit @blublock404 @Icefyre19 @paulilvsremus @mfedits @aemondwhoresworld @angrybirdxx @YarianyIrizarry

All and more taglist: @kenqki @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis @katherinejess @rafesgirlstuff @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity @Anouk nani-2305 @books0fever @papichulo120627 @qardasngan @ghostlyvoidydragon @M0rgans1nterlud3 @dahlia-blossom21 @Spacexdrago

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon #house of the dragon #jacaerys velaryon imagine #prince jacaerys #hotd jacaerys #hotd

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5sospenguinqueen · 8 months ago

Text

Post Space Tension | Charles Leclerc x McLaren! Reader

Summary: Struggling with the new frame of her relationship, Y/N decides a visit to her sister is in order. Charles realises that not having you close is even worse than you beating him.

Warnings: Swearing. Female reader. Verstappen! Reader.

I know you guys wanted angst but the doe eyes got to me.

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 4

Main Masterlist

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

YourUserName just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and others

YourUserName a lovely visit with my favourite sibling @ victoriaverstappen, and an even lovelier surprise (p.s. Max already knew so no, I'm not spoiling it for him)

5,657 comments

User 1 charles in the likes but not in the comments

maxverstappen1 stop trying to get our nephews to like you more than me

→ YourUserName they already do (even the unborn one)

maxverstappen1 also, how am i not the favourite sibling. i listen to all your boy troubles

→ User 2 boy troubles!!!

→ User 3 all??? how many boys are there 😒

landonorris can't believe you had lunch without me

→ georgerussell63 really don't help yourself, mate

lance_stroll not the burger a week before a race

→ YourUserName don't tell my trainer

→ lance_stroll too late

mclaren future papaya racer

→ maxverstappen1 no.

User 4 so, are you and charles still together? the world is dying to know if he was caught cheating or not

→ User 5 apparently they're still together but taking time apart

→ User 6 source: trust me bro

victoriaverstappen we loved seeing you but he keeps asking for uncy sha so maybe bring a visitor next time?? 🤍

liked by charles_leclerc

→ YourUserName can't believe i'm not enough :( but at least i'm introducing him to disappointment early on

→ User 7 not her sister spilling the tea

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User 8 so, does this mean LeStappen are back in the same country?

User 9 how's he going to keep his distance when they're on the same track

User 10 i feel tension brewing

User 11 anyone see arthur's latest tweet?

→ User 9 no why?

→ User 11 he posted that pic of charles and that woman but from another angle. arthur was with them that day and it looks like arthur's holding the woman's hand?

→ User 8 so charles wasn't on a date with that woman?!?! chay/n shippers rise!

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YourUserName just posted

liked by lilymhe, alex_albon and others

YourUserName 'cause i'm back in the saddle again tagged: landonorris, danielricciardo

6,456 comments

danielricciardo alternate caption was 'me and pookies' but lando and i talked her down from that

→ landonorris you're just jealous that i'm pookie #1

landonorris 🔥🔥

redbullracing we still think you'd look better in navy

→ mclaren back, back, i say 🤺

→ scuderiaferrari please, we all know red is her colour

liked by charles_leclerc

→ User 12 we see you charles

landonorris @ redbullracing stop trying to steal my teammate

→ arthur_leclerc stop trying to steal my brother's girlfriend

(comment deleted)

→ User 13 we saw that, arthur

skysportsf1 just posted

liked by YourUserName, maxverstappen1 and others

skysportsf1 read the latest interview from the Verstappen twins, and how racing helped strengthen their bond

tagged: YourUserName, maxverstappen1

7,905 comments

f1 our favourite twins

YourUserName wow, we look good. thanks for having us, it was so nice to be able to hype each other up and get paid for it

maxverstappen1 can't believe they left out the part where i said i only like you because i beat you

→ YourUserName because you told them not to? stop trying to make out like you hate me so people think you're tough. everyone saw you cry when i won

danielricciardo alternate caption was 'join us as we chat with racer, y/n verstappen and her lesser-known brother, max'

→ YourUserName he threatened to sue if they used that title

→ maxverstappen1 i hate you both

lance_stroll only read for y/n

alex_albon love how they tried to make max sound good at padel

georgerussell63 does anyone know who either of these people are? it's amazing who they class as celebrities these days

User 13 living for the grid picking on them (max)

mclaren going to need these pics blown up and hung in my living room

→ charles_leclerc agreed

→ redbullracing charles is all of us

User 14 not charles trying to hide in the comments

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Part 4 will be the final part. Thank you for coming on the journey of self-indulgent fics x

Tag list: @mehrmonga @luvsforme @lemon-lav @missenclod @halleest @formula1mount @k4marina @evie-119 @letmeseeyougotowork @sleepybrokenmelle @eiaaasamantha @tinyhrry @janeholt3 @allywthsr @callsignwidow @raizelchrysanderoctavius @prudyhoo @valentinanappipage @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp @delululeclerc @e-nonsense @scott-mccall-could-lift-mjolnir @thecubanator2 @butterfliesflyaroundmymind @kqliie @sweate-r-weathe-r @lifeless-firefly @woozarts @silverxxs-world @personwhoisther @eugene-emt-roe @anthonykatebridgerton @entr4p3 @carpediem241108 @forevercaffeinated-lee @youre-on-your-ownkid @xyzstar

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 18 days ago

Text

Shiver

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: The snow may not be the only thing keeping you trapped.

Character: silverfox Bucky Barnes

Day Five of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - extreme weather leads to forced proximity

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

"Shit," Bucky plants his feet in the snow as you shiver against his back.

The wind billows around you, his body breaking it but not shielding you completely. You shiver under the wool blanket and open hospital gown. Your quick escape didn't allow much time for a weather report. His treads crunch and sink deeper into the snow as the back tire kicks up powder and the front clogs with the thick sheet below.

He growls and revs again, more in frustration than genuine effort. Your lip quivers and your teeth chatter. You look up as large cumulus flakes drift down, blotting out swathes of the sky.

"Gonna have to ditch it," he grumbles and kicks down the stand. He hardly needs to as the wheels are so deep, the bike might stay up on its own. He kills the engine and the silence blows around you, whistling behind your ears. "God damn..."

You rescind your arms, shaking as the cold seeps across your front, his warm fading quickly. You slide off the bike, your open rubber clog sinking into the snow, your exposed leg scalded by the bite of the cold. He climbs off and looks at you, a grimace lined in his forehead and cheeks. He shakes his head as he strips the saddle bags off the bike and puts them over his shoulder.

The grey streaks in his hair are illuminated by the white landscape, and the patches in his beard look even thicker. The scar through his brow pales with his exasperation. He beckons to you as you continue to quake. He doesn't wait for you to obey. He steps closer and hooks his arm around you, his metal one coming up to scoop you off of the ground. As he lifts you, snow clumps off your shoes and back to the heaps.

"Where--"

"Where are we? Where do we go? Two questions I don't got the answers too." He growls.

You rub your hands together and blow into them. He looks down at you, his eyes glinting with steel, his cheek twitching. He's forged in iron. He gives one-worded orders and grunts, so now that he's talking, you're concerned. Even more than you were before he showed up.

"Sorry," you utter.

He grunts. Right. He hikes you up so you fall against his chest. You welcome his warmth. He takes high steps away from the motorcycle. You watch it over his shoulder. You suppose it's replaceable.

He continues on, slow, but steady. The snow falls at a similar pace. You can't help but nestle into him. You've heard of this man before. Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier. His nickname is more apt in that moment, though he doesn't welcome the irony.

As he carries you, you feel his heart beat, and your own. He is a man underneath all the stories. An avenger. A hero. Your hero. Or just another captor.

You turn to see ahead of him. He walks into the ivory void, the snow slanting and swirling all around. You squint as it catches in your lashes and you hug the blanket tighter. It's damp with snow and offers little against the onslaught.

Hopelessness builds with the piles of snow all around. Still, he isn't daunted. Even as the sky darkens, even as you feel him tense with the burden of your weight. He just carries on. You know what that's like. To just keep going because there's no other option.

A haven appears at last, though you don't immediately see it. You think he's gone mad when he kicks the wall of snow. Then it collapses inward into clumps. The mouth of a cave opens from behind the dusty shower.

He steps through, out of the whining gales. You bend your fingers and wiggle your toes as they ache and throb. He takes you deep enough that the cold is not so virulent.

He puts you down and wades through the darkness. You huddle in a ball as you listen to him. You can't tell he's right next to you until he grabs your leg then trails down to your foot. He takes it out of the clog and wraps it in fabric. You're not sure what exactly the cloth is but it's better than nothing.

He does the same to your other foot before he moves away. Again, you hear him. His shadow blurs in and out of your sight until he turns on a flashlight. He props it in a nook in the wall so it casts across the space. You hug yourself and watch him.

He surveys the interior of the cave as he grips his hips. He doesn't look impressed. He drops his bags on the ground and unbuckled the blanket roll from between them. He unfolds it with a pensive gaze. His eyes flick over it to you. He nears and throws it at you. You catch it thankfully, letting he wet one fall off your shoulders.

He clicks free the clasp on his leather harness, undoing each strap until its slack. He slips it free then unzips his high-collared jacket. He removes that too and puts it with the bags. You stare at him in confusion.

"Your clothes are wet," he pauses and glances over, "what little you got. Take em off. We gotta stay warm."

"Huh?" You gurgle.

"Or you can freeze. I got the serum to keep me warm," he shrugs as he peels off his undershirt.

You don't hesitate again. You reach to the laces of the hospital gown just behind your neck. You've been poked, prodded, observed. You lost your modesty a long time ago. He doesn’t have any either.

As you drag the fabric away from your body, he approaches. Naked, hairy, shameless. He takes the blanket and lowers himself next to you. He wraps you in his arms, bring the thick layer around both of you as he guides you down to cave floor.

You cannot deny the heat of his body. You’re almost desperate for it. You quake against him as you snake your arms around him in turn and press your cheek to the top of his chest. Your legs tangle together as you entwine beneath the blanket, meshing together to keep the warmth within.

His breath is calm where yours is shuddery. You cling to him and close your eyes. The lull takes over. There is only the distant wind, the soft fall of snow, and the beating of his heart. Or is it yours?

You ease down into a senseless trance. You are not so much waiting for it to end as hanging on every second. You’re alive. You can stay alive. For the first time in maybe ever, you care about that. You’re not sure why. It might be nothing more than being away from that horrible place he took you from.

His lips brush your hair and send a new kind of shiver through you. The gesture is odd as he inhales, breathing in your smell. His hand crawls up your back and down again. Your skin speckles with bumps. His movement is cautious but deliberate, as if he’s unsure if your awake or not.

A low rumble rolls in his chest and escapes his throat. He splays his fingers wide and covers one side of your ass. He presses his palm to your firmly and curls his fingers. You whimper. What is he doing?

Your bat your lashes as you open your eyes. His other hand comes up to still your head, trapping it against his chest. His hand hooks under the curve of your rear. He shoves between your thighs, keeping his knee between yours as he feels around.

Your heart races in your ears. The whistling wind is replaced by a thundering drum. Your fear tempos as his determination guides his touch.

He pokes along your entrance and dips his fingertips just inside. He wiggles them as you whine again and brace beneath his chest, a layer of soft flesh pillowed over hard muscles. No, it can’t be. You saw it on the screens. On the pages. He is a hero. He saves people. He doesn’t do this.

He turns you onto your back and shifts his weight over you. You exhale as you look up at the stubble on his chin. You push until your nails crease in his flesh. He does not relent.

He parts your legs with his. He slips free his fingers and unwinds his arm from behind you. You sniff as your eyes burn with disbelief and fear.

“Please don’t,” you babble.

He doesn’t listen. Or maybe he doesn’t hear you. His other hand creeps around and pushes your chin up. He frames your jaw tightly as he rocks and rubs his rigid length against your pelvis. He groans as you feel him twitching.

He grips his dick and drags his tip down, tracing along the vee of your thigh and to your slit. He delves between your lips, rubbing up and down as you squirm in his grasp. Your hands are flat to his stomach as you push futilely.

Your voice evaporates with all of your strength. You feel the paralysis that comes with knowing there’s nothing you can do. You lift your eyes to the dark caverns of the ceiling and stare into the abyss.

He pokes along your entrance. You hiss as he presses against it, threatening to stretch you, even split you. He leans into you, slowly barging his way into you. Your body strains to take him as he lets out a long groan. Inch by inch he invades your body, conquering you as he keeps you pinned beneath the blanket.

The grey ends of his hair tickle you as he sinks until you can take no more. Your tears wobble in the brims of your eyes and you blow out a willowy sob. He lowers his head to brush his prickly stubble against your cheek. His gritty breaths blaze over your ear and he growls as he tilts back.

He pumps into you as you quaver out stunted cries. He rears back with long, slow strokes, only to slam back in quickly, holding himself deep before retreating again. You no longer feel the cold or the warmth, just his violation.

“W-w-w-w...” you rasp quietly under your tortured breath. The noise of flesh, wet and dry, meeting and parting echoes in the cave. “Why...”

He thrusts into you again. He keeps himself buried at the point of agony. You snivel and free a hand to mop your face. He lifts his head and hushes you as he shoves your arm away, caressing your splotchy cheeks with his thick thumb.

“You didn’t think I was saving you, did you?” He nuzzles your forehead as he snarls. “Doll, they made you for me to claim.”

You squeak and latch onto his wrist. Squeezing as he snaps his hip, jolting your entire body. Your pain swells with panic. You don’t understand what he means. If he didn’t save you, why did he kill all those people?

“Yielding, used,” you flinch as your temples tingle with the timbre of his voice. “Vessel, dusklight,” he continues reciting the disjointed words. Your eyes feel loose as if they might roll out, “forty-five, wilting.” You ears ring and you shake your head, digging your nails into his forearm, “one, belonging,” he ruts into you harder with each word, “together,” your skin crawls as your insides burn, “surrender.”

With his last word, your body goes limp. You can’t move but you can feel. You can feel it all. He pushes his hand around your head and cradles it as he bows his head to nuzzle your neck. His breath dampens your skin with each desperate burrowing into your core.

“They programmed you for me, doll,” he puffs into the crook of your shoulder. “They put a switch in you...” he groans and tenses as his other hand stretches beneath you to raise your ass, opening you even more to him. “That only I can flip.”

You don’t even have the power to cry. You can only lay there and stare and suffer. If he isn’t going to save you, no one else is.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #advent #navy and roo's sleepover #december daze #mcu #marvel #winter soldier #avengers #au #captain america

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spicymancer · 11 months ago

Note

So just wanted you to know, "yellow" is a common slur against Asian Americans and so Huang Feng, being a Bruce Lee (whos an Asian man) clone and all could raise some eyebrows to your intentions. And before i get accused of white knighting, i am Asian

Thanks for reaching out! This is honestly something that might be important to discuss and I appreciate your attempt at broaching the subject delicately. More after the jump.

So to start. I am also Asian. Specifically Chinese American.

As an American born Chinese, I have a weird relationship with my Asian heritage. I have a bad accent when I speak Chinese and most of my upbringing and cultural understanding is very American and western-centric. So I have certain biases at play here that I fully acknowledge. My experience is not universal. But these characters are drawn from that experience.

Huang Feng is a reference to Bruce Lee's performance as Kato in the Green Hornet. Dà Huángfēng being a Chinese term for a hornet.

The character is also narratively implied to be a secret moonlighting identity for the Yellow Ranger in my made-up sentai team. (Who, due to my own decision to always refer to the characters by their Ranger color, is literally just called Yellow by the other members of the cast.)

This is also a reference. Specifically to one of my greatest inspirations, Thuy Trang (Rest in Peace), who played the original Mighty Morphin Yellow Ranger. She was one of the first "Cool Asian Characters" that I encountered in media targeted at me as a child, problematic color choice aside. I sincerely adored her and her giant robot Saber-Toothed Tiger.

To be honest I have a complicated relationship with "Asian Themed" characters in media. So often saddled with cliché stereotypes: Martial Arts, dumplings, nunchucks, etc etc.

But the thing is, even as I roll my eyes whenever I see the Fighting Game character that is The Chinese One who wears a rice hat and a qipao. Or when one is literally just Bruce Lee. I do also immediately main that character. It's a bit of a guilty pleasure. Taking what representation I can get with mixed feelings. Similar to my enjoyment of sexy anime girl art even though it's all rooted in pretty uncomfortable sexist and objectifying aesthetics. A lot of my work comes from a place of exploring my own sexuality/identity. These characters are, partly, my own attempt to explore Asian themes and ideas for myself.

I would love to say that I'm trying to "reclaim" the term or something but I'm just some internet artist drawing cute anime girls and monster smut. For me, playing with these clichés is just another way of being self-indulgent.

Not really defending these creative choices so much as explaining my perspective on them. I totally understand if all this turns folks off! I fully respect those who don't vibe with my work and wish them all the best. It's a big internet and I'm sure they can find something super great to enjoy elsewhere!

Anyway, sorry for the long rambly post. Despite the fact that I'm posting this on Tumblr, I am not super mentally equipped to engage in Discourse, so forgive me if I don't respond to the tags on this.

So I'll just leave y'all with a neat article by Kat Chow discussing the history and usage of the color Yellow in regards to Asian Identity.

#oc questions #discourse cw #I love and appreciate all of you

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romanteacism · 4 months ago

Text

Knight Aemond x Princess Reader Fallen

Synopsis: As you fell, so had your knight, Ser Aemond. Warnings: None (yet), Realization, Mentions of Injury, Fluff, Aemond Concerned PREVIOUS PART / NEXT PART A/N: 🤭

“Are you certain you know how to ride on horseback, princess?” Aemond asked as you scratched the horse’s chin. You had gotten approval to ride out in the woods, but your knight must come with you. “Of course!” You say, not fully paying attention to your knight as you coed at the horse, bringing a carrot to its mouth. “I still do not understand why you would want to venture to the woods; there is nothing there,” Aemond muttered, stepping closer to you and offering a cloth to cleanse your hands that had traces of the animal’s drool. “Because I am growing tired of just always being in the gardens or my solarium! I want a change of scenery— and the fresh air would do us both good,” You explained. Ser Aemond wiped your hand with a cloth; his usual strong touch turned delicate as he held your hand.

You secured your foot on the saddle’s stirrup and tried to hoist yourself and mount your horse. Aemond watched you for a moment, resisting to let an amused smile twitch on his lips as you struggled to perch yourself upon your mount. Aemond bit his tongue as he wanted to laugh. You practically draped half of your body upon the horse before he finally sighed and helped you on your saddle. He placed his hand on your waist and effortlessly lifted you onto your seat, and you tried to ignore the flutter in your chest as Ser Aemond’s hold on you lingered for a moment. “Thank you,” You smiled and smoothened your dress.

Aemond gave a nod and mounted his horse, eyeing you with apprehension as he was not sold that you truly knew how to ride on horseback. Aemond parted his lips to voice out his concern, but before he could do so, you speeded out of the stable and into the woods. “Princess!” Aemond yelled, and he urged his horse to catch up with yours; you only laughed in glee at the chase you and Ser Aemond took part in. “Princess— slow down!” Aemond yelled, gritting his teeth as he tried to speed up his mount. “But where’s the fun in that?” You laughed, turning to another direction in order to gain speed and best your knight, who was determined to catch up with you.

You looked behind you, glancing towards your knight, who was gaining speed with a determined look in his eye. You laughed once more at the seriousness on Ser Aemond’s face; you were too distracted by looking upon your knight and the gap between the two of you that you had failed to neglect that you were riding towards a fallen tree. Dread washed over Aemond as he heard you yell and watched your horse throw you off its back, you landing harshly upon the hard ground. “Princess!” Aemond yelled and hastily dismounted his horse, running towards you, who lay on the ground, eyes closed, and lips parted, and seemingly unconscious. “Princess… oh gods,” Aemond breathed out, cupping your cheek, looking if you had a wound that he must tend to immediately.

You peeked through your lashes as your knight cradled your frame, biting down on your tongue to hinder your laughs at the absolute horror in his eye. Aemond moved to carry you to his horse, ready to face the rage of your brother and the guilt of failing to protect you, when he suddenly heard quiet, repressed giggles leave your lips, confusing him momentarily. “Oh, you should see your face,” You laughed, your whole body fluttering with each gleeful soundthat escaped your lips. You didn’t even bother to move away from your knight’s hold, nor did he dare to steal it away. “That wasn’t funny— you could have died!” Aemond exclaimed, looking down at you, who played in his arms, trying hard to stifle your laughs.

You shook your head and smiled up at your knight, who had a deep scowl on his face. He was still filled with panic as he had to witness you being thrown off your horse. “You could have hit your head or—“ You breathed out a laugh as your knight was ready to scold you once more. “But I didn’t.” You smiled and finally decided to move to sit up. You tried to move your arm, and the moment that you did, the large smile on your lips disappeared and your face contorted in pain, alarming Ser Aemond once more. “What is it?” Aemond asked, moving impossibly closer to you. “I— I think it’s my arm,” you say as you try to move it once more, but you only wince as a sharp pain overcomes you. “Do not move,” Aemond gritted, unable to watch you in pain. He assessed the limb and swallowed thickly at your mangled arm, in disbelief at how long it took you to feel the pain of the broken appendage.

“You broke your arm,” He muttered the obvious and turned to you, who was trying your best not to let your discomfort show, but the welling tears in your eyes and the quivering in your lips were enough to tell that you were filled with pain. Aemond took off the cloak of his armor and made a makeshift sling for your injured limb. You winced, and a whimper left your lips as Ser Aemond slowly lifted your arm to secure it in place with his cloak. “Not so amusing now, is it, princess?” He could not help but mutter as he tended to your injury. “I’m sorry,” You say lowly, and Aemond feels guilt as he realizes he only added guilt to your discomfort. Aemond sighed, bundled you in his arms, and lifted you towards his horse. He gently placed you on to sit upon its back, placed himself behind you, and wrapped his arm around your frame to secure you.

When you reached the castle walls, Aemond was quick to bark at a fellow knight to fetch you a maester. “Calm down, you’re setting them into a panic,” You say as you realize a crowd began to form, men running around to fetch every maester they could find. “You are injured; that is enough of a reason to panic,” Aemond said, lifting you from the horse and carrying you in his arms again. “I can walk, Ser Aemond. I did not break my foot.” You muttered as he rushed through the halls in search of a Maester.

“What happened to you?” Your brother fretted as he caught you and your knight in the halls, going along with the pace of Ser Aemond as he headed toward the Maester’s hall. “My horse threw me off,” You say, your arm clutching tightly upon your knight’s shoulder as he sped through the halls. “I told you to pay attention when you are riding! Thank god nothing else grave happened to you!” Your brother sighed as you reached a Maester, Ser Aemond placing you gently upon a seat.

He stood by your side, digging his nails into his palms as he watched the Maester tend to your injury. Your heavy breathing and pained whimpers were the only things heard in the chambers, echoing into your knight’s ears whose great empathy towards you made him feel your pain as well. “Might want to bite on this, princess,” The Maester said delicately, slowly bringing a cloth to your lips. “Why?” You asked fearfully, turning to your brother and then Ser Aemond. “We must return your arm back into its socket… it will hurt, princess— but only for a short while.” You paled at the words, fear in you multiplying, and you took hold of your knight’s arm out of habit.

Aemond pursed his lips as you bit down on the cloth, and he switched his arm with his hand for you to hold. Your grip was deadly as you waited for the maester to do what was needed, and Aemond could only stare at your clasped hands as he could not bring himself to look upon your distressed expression. Your brother looked away and tightly closed his eyes as your muffled scream echoed through the room as the maester fixed your arm.

“You’re fine, princess… It’s over,” Aemond whispered, kneeling beside you and trying to soothe you. You could only look upon him with your teary eyes as you felt like you could faint because of the pain. “How long until it heals, maester?” Your brother questioned. At the reminder that the prince was there, Aemond reluctantly let go of your hand and placed a more respectable distance between you. “A moon… perhaps two,” The maester answered, bringing a tray closer to you, urging you to spit out the cloth between your teeth. “You will take no part in strenuous activities, princess… and I’ll advise a day or two of bed rest in risk that you might dislocate your shoulder and add more to your injured arm.” You nodded slowly, turning to your brother whose concern had mixed with his anger at your carelessness.

“What were you thinking?! I knew I should have not let you go out for a ride!” Your brother exclaimed as you and him, along with your knight, walked down the halls of the keep. “You cannot just lock me in this castle,” You sighed, and your brother scoffed. “I could try,” he muttered and went back to scold you about your actions. “Enough!” You grumbled with a stomp of your foot as you reached your chambers. “I already feel bad enough— I do not need you to recollect my mistake! I did no such thing when you broke both of your legs years ago! I didn’t berate you for your carelessness of climbing out the window! Instead, I only helped you in your recovery!” You glared at your brother, who was rendered speechless. You rolled your eyes and entered your chambers, and Ser Aemond cautiously moved to stand on his post, tenseness in the air as he had never seen you speak in such a way towards your brother.

“I’m fine, Ser Aemond, it’s just one arm,” You say as your knight tries to assist you to your bed, your brother moving his post from the outside of your door to the inside just in case you need help in the middle of the night. “Even so, princess,” Aemond said as he glanced towards you, satisfied that you were tucked in bed and all that you needed was just by your bedside table. “You all have to stop treating me like an invalid— earlier today, the maids tried to spoonfeed me my breakfast; I have another arm!” You grumbled and tried to get comfortable in your bed as your knight returned to his post by the door, both of you still having a view of each other, though there was a sizable distance between the two of you. “Well, you technically are…” Aemond mused and saw your scowling face staring at him, pushing down his urge to smirk at the look you gave him. “Good night, Ser Aemond.” You sighed and blew out the candle, but the light of the hearth still illuminated the room, giving Aemond enough light to look upon your sleeping frame.

“Ugh!” You grumbled as you sat in your chair, looking upon the empty canvas. “What is it, princess?” Aemond asked, quickly going by your side as you sat upon a window with the intent to paint. “The paint won’t come out of the tube!” You sighed, frustrated that you had started the hindrance your injury had caused in your daily life. “Let me,” Aemond took the tube from our hand, letting your fingers brush. “Thank you,” You smiled as he took hold of your paint pallet, never moving away from your side because both of you knew that was his rightful place.

“Again, I can still walk, Ser Aemond,” You sighed as your knight wrapped his arm around your waist to assist you down the stairs. “You are imbalanced at the moment… and let’s be honest, even when you weren’t injured, you tend to trip— wouldn’t want to add to your current broken limb.” Aemond teased you, and you breathed out a laugh. “You should be resting,” Aemond advised as he followed you to the gardens. “I should say the same thing to you— you don’t even sleep at night,” You say as you would wake in the dead of night only to see your knight fully awake as well. Aemond raised his brow, “And how do you know that?” He questioned, and you shrugged, quickly regretting the action as a throb of pain shot through your shoulder.

Aemond was ready to voice his concern, but you quickly departed from his side as a tot in the gardens caught your attention. Aemond quickened his steps and found you behind a bush with a child clinging to your leg. “Oh, you’re so adorable!” You gushed and knelt to be at eye level with the little child, who only grinned. Aemond trailed closer to you, who sat with the child by the edge of a stone flowerbox. Trying to hold a conversation with a tot who only babbled and looked at you with awe— just like everyone you meet.

“Look, a butterfly,” You smiled and stretched your uninjured arm for the insect to rest on your finger, carefully bringing it down so the child could also inspect it. Aemond licked his lips, an odd warmness spreading to his chest as he watched the scene. His mind began to spin— imagining you with a child of your own. He tried to resist thinking of such matters— most inappropriate for what he would hold no consequence for when it came to your future child. But still, his mind began to wonder. Will your child perhaps be a girl or a boy? Will they have your dazzling eyes or radiant smile? Will they perhaps inherit your hair or his unique ones? With that thought, Aemond choked at his own spit; scolding himself for letting his thoughts stray to such— most unseemly.

Aemond was brought further from his thoughts as he heard your shocked gasp. He quickly focused all of his attention on you, who looked horrified at the child you coed at just earlier. He turned to the tot and saw the body of a ripped butterfly in his hands, grinning wildly and laughing at what he had done whilst you moved towards your knight in dismay— in disbelief as to how a seemingly innocent creature harmed another.

You clung to your knight’s arm tightly as the child began to clap their hands, further mangling the once pretty and fluttering butterfly. “Oh gods,” You said in shock, the child running away, proud of what they had done. “How… why…” You stuttered, making Aemond sigh, your care for a mere insect endearing you further in his eye. “They do not know any better, princess,” You knight explained, glancing towards his arm, which you tightly clung to. “But still! Why would they want to harm such a harmless and pretty thing!” You exclaimed as your knight led you to your usual spot in the gardens, hoping your afternoon refreshments would calm you down.

“Again, princess, they are not aware of their actions.” Aemond further explained, helping you down in your seat and looking around for a squire or maid to help you with your tea. When he could not spot one, he took the liberty to help you, making your usual cup that he had memorized to make as he had watched you do it repeatedly. “You should join me, Ser Aemond.” You say, gesturing towards the empty seat next to you. “That is most inappropriate, princess,” He reminded, and he watched you roll your eyes. “Come now, no one is around, and I’m well aware that you are tired as well.” You urged but your knight shook his head, almost finished fixing you a cup of tea.

“Fine, you can choose not to drink, but at least sit.” You say, pleading with him with your eyes. Aemond sighed as he felt his chest warm further at your concern. No one has ever shown him such great regard for his well-being— with you always reminding him to eat or rest; at the beginning, he believed it was all a ploy, but he quickly realized that that was just you. You always cared about him and anyone else’s well-being— a rare trait. “Thank you, princess. But I am fine,” He insisted, moving to stand beside you instead of behind.

When night came, Aemond once again stood in his post by the door inside your chambers, listening to you babble and recount the day’s activities, though he already knew it all because not once had he left your side. “You know you could sit down, Ser Aemond; no one is here to pass judgment whilst you rest.” You say as you settle further into your bed. “I’m fine, princess,” He said once more. He heard you sigh, and he furrowed his brows as you suddenly stood from your bed, walking to him, who stood by the common area of your chambers. “What are you doing?” Aemond questioned as you tried to pull on an armchair, bringing it towards your knight’s post. “Princess, you might strain yourself; go back to your bed; you must rest.” He scolded, trying to hinder you. “You must rest as well— I practically do nothing all day while you are always on your feet watching over me. You must at least rest during the night.” You say as you successfully placed a chair on his post.

You motioned for him to sit, but your knight stubbornly stood his ground— forever taking his duties too seriously. “Just go back to bed, princess,” Aemond sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Not until you sit. I’m not asking you to sleep; just— rest, even for a short while.” You sighed as Ser Aemond shook his head once again. “I will not sleep until you sit upon this chair,” you say, growing amused as your knight rolls his eyes and sighs in exasperation. “Fine,” He gritted, reluctantly sitting upon your armchair that you sat upon when you read— the upholstered fabric smelling faintly of your scent. “Wasn’t so hard now, was it,” You smiled, satisfied as you had convened your knight, but he only gave you an uptight look.

You returned to your bed, turning to your knight once more to make sure he did not stand once again. “Good night, Ser Aemond,” You sang and blew out the candle, “Good night, princess,” You hear his low reply, drifting into sleep with a small smile on your lips. Aemond still sat upon the chair, gazing upon your sleeping frame. He would never admit it, but the toll of his duties was slowly overcoming him. What seemed to be a small gesture for you meant so much more for your knight, who finally found respite as he eased further into the chair that smelt of you.

As the night progressed, Aemond rested but was still fully awake and gazing upon your frame deep in slumber. His mind recalled each and every interaction he had with you as he had become your knight six moons ago. He recalled each gesture, each jest, each laugh you had shared with him, and though Aemond tried to resist it, he finally accepted the truth that he, just like you, had fallen as well.

Tag list: @anukulee @rebeccawinters @bellarkeselection @gayfiretruck @ladyriverasafespace @thhriller @bittersweetmargarita @jellybeanstacey0519 @ewanmitchellfanatic @aegonswife @briefwinnerpersonaturtle @lee-uh @melsunshine @solatiiium @padfooteyes @nordicmaiden

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