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joeloverture · 11 months ago

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hook 'em horny | j.m. x f!reader

masterlist : coach!joel masterlist pairing: college football coach!joel miller x reader summary: [no outbreak] seeking petty revenge on your cheating quarterback ex-boyfriend leads you somewhere you shouldn't be — and then it lands you over the knee of his coach. warnings: (18+ mdni, don't make me say it again.) cheating done by a referenced oc, briefest mention of drugs, porn barely garnished with plot, age gap (22/52), smut, unprotected piv sex, creampie, vaginal fingering, potentially dubcon by way of power imbalance but consent is enthusiastic, daddy kink, sir kink, 'punishment' spanking, degradation, praise, brat tamer!joel, dom!joel, joel spits on her ass but otherwise no butt stuff, mild choking, body writing, so many pet names of so many varieties, aftercare, surprisingly fluffy [no use of y/n] word count: 6.4k a/n: this is a crazy idea to have considering joel can hardly handle ellie. i don't think he'd be able to handle ~118 college-aged boys. however, the idea of football coach! joel is hot to me (i mean, seriously, look at those sluts on the sidelines) so i made it happen. on a serious note, i am so sorry to the unnamed university this is based on. i toured you. i'm legacy. but... joel miller. let's make it clear this is for entertainment purposes only. this is a fictional work about fictional people that does not reflect the school itself, which is a fine institution whose head coaches historically do not fuck students in the locker rooms. shoutout to my dad who, unknowing what this information would be used for, explained to me how he snuck into this stadium 3x. don't do that, either.

You can’t even remember the last time you made a good decision.

Your track record definitely isn’t the cleanest: you chose to go to school in Texas, and then chose to stay there for four years. Choosing to go to that frat party in late junior year wasn’t your brightest moment, either, evidenced by the resulting hangover from hell and, predictably, frat flu. All things considered, those choices pale in comparison to hooking up with their all-star quarterback, Lucas Scott.

Dirty-blonde, blue-eyed, muscled Lucas Scott. He’s the sort of guy who looks like an eight when you’re looking at him after a few shots of tequila and a four when you’re sober. The sort of guy who, after over a year of dating, makes you split the bill halfway after ordering the more expensive entree. Crowned as the most efficient, precise, and instinctive quarterback the Longhorns have ever had. Apparently that instinct hadn’t been enough to drive him away from dipping his wick in every sorority girl’s candle wax.

No matter how much post-orgasm Lucas panted into his ear that he loved you, you weren’t stupid enough to trick yourself into believing it. Staying with him was the easier choice, not yet wanting to reduce yourself to locker room talk. Walking in on him sloppily fucking some redhead nursing major was the breaking point. When it became less about you and more about your dignity.

So, yeah, you’ve never been one for making good decisions, and you certainly aren’t about to start now.

You thought breaking into the stadium would be some sort of monumental task. Trespassing here was normally reserved for campus rooftops and after-hours exploration, but once you’d gotten this batshit crazy idea in your head, you knew it wasn’t going to shake until you at least proved it couldn’t be done.

The open garage at the back of the building doesn’t help to deter you. It’s like there’s a welcome-mat outside saying, ‘Come on in and get what you deserve!’.

Who would you be to decline such a sincere invitation?

The garage is empty apart from some cushy golf carts, and the steel door behind them couldn’t be more tempting. If it’s locked, you tell yourself, you’ll go back to the dorm and forget about your incident of near-trespassing.

You take small steps to the door, testing the handle. It springs right open, and all thoughts of leaving dissipate from your mind.

Who leaves the garage open and forgets to lock the door? Probably people with just as little between their ears (and legs) as Lucas. You scoff in half-disbelief, half-luck as you close the door behind you.

The energy feels stagnant this late at night, no announcer on the loudspeaker or swarms of burnt orange hats and T-shirts standing shoulder-to-shoulder. Industrial lights flicker above, their hums loud enough to make you wonder if you have tinnitus. Concrete lines the hallways, interrupted by a few silver-painted pipes arranged in a labyrinth up against the walls. A few security cameras are pointed at you. Before going any further, you pause to raise the hood of your Longhorns sweatshirt.

Even if you should be, you aren’t in much of a rush; you amble about, really taking in the sterile ambiance of the empty stadium. You turn a few corners, going in what feels like the right direction. You figure you’re getting closer when you spot what looks like it could be a security tower. Crouching behind a trash can, you wait it out, trying to peer through the untinted windows to figure out if there’s anyone in there at all. When you’ve determined it’s unmanned and let out a shallow exhale, you go back up to full posture and keep wandering around unsupervised.

You know you’re in the right place when you find your toes hovering over a red line painted on the oil-stained concrete: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT.

Bingo.

Crossing that line without really thinking about it, you stick to your (so far) tried and true method of going wherever feels the most promising until you’re standing in front of the two black doors you were looking for. The door’s handle is an obnoxiously large longhorn, and you quite literally have to hook ‘em to get inside.

You’re starting to understand where the rest of the university’s funding is going when you walk into the locker room. After dating Lucas for a year, you know the football team is full of itself, but the Longhorniness of it all is… excessive. There’s the silhouette of the logo glowing on the goddamn ceiling, and if the jerseys the players are wearing on their digital nameplates isn’t enough of an indicator of who they play for, every backlit locker has a drawer with, you guessed it: a longhorn painted at the center. A brown vinyl couch wraps around the front of the room in direct view of a powered down videoboard that you can only assume replays highlight reels.

You roll your eyes. Again, your track record with decision-making isn’t the best, because you chose a school who puts every penny towards sweaty frat boys with brain damage from the amount of concussions they get.

And then you see it: a sign tacked onto the middle aisle of lockers that reads CORE VALUES. From top to bottom, HONESTY, TREAT WOMEN WITH RESPECT, NO DRUGS, NO STEALING, and NO WEAPONS. You have to physically clamp your jaw shut to restrict your laughter at the second one.

It doesn’t take you long to find what you’re looking for. Lucas Scott, #10.

His sweat-stained jersey hangs limply from the rack, and you eagerly tear it off, tossing it down onto the floor. Eager like a child ready to color outside the lines of a coloring book, you kneel down in front of it, pulling out the one thing you had prepared for tonight. A bold black Sharpie.

You pop the cap with your teeth, spitting it out somewhere on the floor as you start scribbling. Disguising your handwriting isn’t intentional, but you’re writing so carelessly and on such a foreign material that it comes naturally. Your tongue sticks out of the corner of your mouth as you work. In a year and a half, you’d never felt such satisfaction about — and certainly not from — Lucas.

TWO PUMP CHUMP along the side. FIVE INCHES FULL MAST on the other. CHEATER at the bottom. WHORE across the front.

A throat clears behind you. You drop the Sharpie, a blot of ink forming on the mesh. You startle backwards, scooting until your back hits that stupid longhorn drawer. You’re expecting a janitor, maybe a security guard if you’re extra unlucky.

That isn’t the worst of your options, apparently, because when you look up, it’s at Joel fucking Miller, head coach of the longhorn’s football team.

Your lower lip starts trembling, and that moment is when you decide maybe you need to start making good decisions. You’ve heard enough about Joel from Lucas to know he’s a total hardass. He could drag you by the ear to the dean and have you kicked out at the tail end of your second to last semester in this hellhole.

He glares down at you with his head cocked, hazel eyes far darker than they ever seem on TV. His scruff stipples his hardened jawline, lips thinned out like the worry lines pressed onto his forehead. If you were interested in digging yourself any deeper, you might stall to think about how good he looks: the faint trail of chest hair vanishing down into the neckline of his longhorns polo shirt, his fitted khakis, broad leather belt slung around his waist, and the slight bulge of tummy above it. You swallow hard and kick yourself for it.

“What exactly,” Coach Miller drawls, voice syrupy and sticky. “do ya think you’re doin’?”

Your mouth moves, but no words come out. He doesn’t seem very amused, his muscled arms crossing over his wide torso.

Joel shakes his head. “Ain’t a good look for you, hun, scrawlin’ that chicken scratch all over my QB’s jersey. Could get a real ugly charge for that.”

Heart crashing into your ribcage, you bite down on your lip. “I can pay the damages,” you blurt out.

He sizes you up all over again, eyes dragging up and down your body. They linger on your chest for a few extra seconds that you’re convinced that you just made up. “Can you, sugar? ‘Cause to me, looks like you’re the type to be chasin’ tips at whatever joint hires you.”

You don’t have the bandwidth to be as offended as you should be, especially because he’s right. You settle for glowering at him instead. A huff of laughter pinches out of him. “You give everyone you vandalize that blue look? Or is that lil’ number jus’ because you found out Lucas really ain’t that loyal?” With ease, Joel bulldozes over whatever thinning resolve you have remaining.

“What’s that sign over there say? ‘Treat women with respect’?” You say. Joel’s backlit like all of those over budgeted lockers behind him. You squint your eyes. “You know that’s fucking bullshit. So what if I give him a taste of his own medicine when he’s been a minute man for every girl with a pulse on this campus?” You cap your Sharpie and clip it back onto your collar and get to your feet. So much for good decisions. “Fuck right off with that.”

“Hey, hey. Down, hun.” Joel holds his hands out to you, and you notice just how heavily you’ve been breathing, just how close you are to him. “Never said you were wrong. Kid’s a fuck up in all sorts ‘a ways. But I don’t like how you’re mouthin’ off at me, Miss Priss. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re in dire need of a spankin’ to set you right.”

Your breath cuts short and your cunt bottoms out without your permission. You don’t need a mirror to know your eyes just went glassy, your lips parted as your mouth goes desert dry. As discreetly as you can manage, you squeeze your thighs together.

Joel doesn’t miss it. You can tell from the moment his brows raise and his eyes sparkle, the corner of his mouth picking up a smidge. “Oh, yeah? That do somethin’ for ya, hun? Nasty little girl.” There’s a dangerous, uneven grit to his voice that has arousal burning like a candle in your stomach, the wax of your arousal syrupy against your thighs already.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. Fuck.

“No,” you breathe out stubbornly, but you’ve already given yourself away, even to yourself. The insides of your thighs are molten, twitching with every throb of your clit between your legs. That flush of warmth from your pelvis is spreading, overheating.

Joel tuts. “You really think that? You can whine all you want ‘bout wantin’ respect, but at the end ‘a the day, you just wanna be treated like some whore, huh?” And, yeah, he has you figured out, has you in the palm of his hand. Even though you have no idea what someone like him could do to someone like you, you want him to do it. You want to find out. “I’ll tell ya what, sugar, you walk outta here right now and nobody but me’s gonna know you came pitchin’ a hissy fit in my locker room.”

You frown at that, a small arc of your pouty lips that has Joel’s eyes gleaming.

“Or,” he says. “You can pull those wet fuckin’ panties down – don’t gimme that look, I know they are – and I can give ya a real lesson in respect.” He shrugs, hands going to his waist as he looks you up and down.

He knows he has you the same way you know, but you aren’t just going to give in that easily. You flare your nose and counter, ��If there’s nothing keeping me here other than a firm hand, why should I stay?”

He’s looking at you like he wants to take you apart. His fingers jump against his hips for the opportunity to break you down.

“Sweetness,” Joel shakes his head as if it’s obvious. “if you let me, I could make you feel good. I’m guessin’ you got some vibrator sittin’ in the back of your desk drawer to use when your roommate’s out ‘n about, but you don’t wanna use that tonight, do ya? You want the real thing, hun, and I’d give it to ya real nice once I teach ya to behave.”

There it is again: Coach Joel Miller has you all figured out. Every syllable he says is doomed to send another shiver up your spine, and damn it, fuck playing coy.

You’re too busy tearing off your hoodie to think about how unsexily dressed you are, but the rushed nature of your actions punches a chuckle out of Joel. “Eager thing.” You’re halfway through kicking your shoes and leggings off when he saunters over to the couch, plopping down on the edge and patting his broad, khaki-covered thigh. Your mouth waters when you look back and see just how much the fabric strains against his leg. “Whenever you’re ready, hun.”

You waddle over to him, stripped down to the basics of your sports bra and everyday panties. It’s the furthest thing from erotic, but the way he’s looking at you isn’t. It’s primal and ravenous, enough to have you forgetting all about how you’d even gotten there in the first place. He licks his lips as he trails his eyes all over you, darkening a couple of shades when he looks at your cleavage. “Lucas is a fuckin’ idiot, baby.”

“Knew that already,” you mumble.

He pats his thigh again, bounces his leg. “C’mon, over my knee like the good girl I know you can be. Hurry up and I’ll only give ya five.”

You shuffle forward, relishing in the rubbing of your thighs that comes from it. He’s sitting on the corner of the couch at the perfect angle for you to rest your head on the arm. It doesn’t take any more convincing for you to put yourself over his lap, not that he needed to do much in the first place. You feel so much smaller than him. Your ass is up for him to do whatever he’d like to; it’s a tantalizing feeling you hadn’t gotten out of any intimacy – if you could call it that — with Lucas.

“Mmmmmm,” Joel groans as he runs a hand between your legs. He rubs at your slit through the soaked gusset of your panties. You can’t stop the way your hips buck, or the pitiful shout that jumps off your lips when he pins you down by the small of your back, robbing you of any friction. Between one arousal-riddled breath and the next, Joel tugs your panties off and flings them to the side. You know how it feels, tacky and cold on your core and thighs, so you can only imagine how it must look. Joel gives you a pretty good idea when he reveres, “Goddamn, pretty cunt is throbbin’ for it.”

He pulls apart your folds and you think you hear him lick his lips above you before he lets them go. The schlick noise your dripping pussy makes is nothing less than pornographic. Joel gropes you carefully, kneads the skin of your ass like you have all the time in the world. Under his ministrations, it’s easy to melt into the couch, forgetting why you’re there in the first place until his palm cracks down on your ass cheek.

The stinging impact has a slurred hnnnngh leaving your lips, and a fresh gush of wetness between your legs to accompany it. You keep your head tucked into the sanctuary of your folded arms, eyes squeezed shut so tight you swear you’re seeing stars. Joel’s quick to rub the spanked patch of skin, his palm soothing his ache. “That’s one, baby.” You nod into your arms. “Think you can take four more?” Another nod.

“I need to hear ya, hun. C’mon, head up f’me.” He taps the side of your cheek, and you prop your cheek up on your forearm. “Think you can take four more?” he repeats.

Your voice hitches, courtesy of the beating that echoes in your chest and between your legs. “Y-yes…”

When the second hit lands, you don’t expect it. You flinch away from his hand when it comes down with a clap that leaves you squirming in his lap. “Yes, what?”

“Yes sir,” you whine out, back arching. Although a punishment, that spank has the same effect as the last: a live wire of arousal strung from your spine to your cunt.

“Takin’ it well,” he praises, squeezing your ass cheeks together. “Sure didn’t expect anyone to come crawlin’ in when I left that garage open, ‘specially not some slut like you with an ass that needs a spankin’ six ways to Sunday.” Just as quick as he can build you up, he can take you down a notch, but you can’t mind when it has you moaning all the same. “Oh, she likes that,” Joel clicks.

He rubs your ass again, and you’re bracing yourself for that next strike, pulled stiff with an arousing, anticipatory sort of fear. Only when you convince yourself it isn’t coming do you let all of that tension flood out of your body — and that’s when Joel smacks his hand across your far-too-trustworthy ass.

You cry out, pouting over your shoulder at Joel, who has a proud smirk drawn all over his face. You don’t even feel your hips rocking down, seeking whatever pleasure you can get until he reprimands, “Ruttin’ against my fuckin’ leg, now, huh? Don’t pretend you don’t like this.”

With a particularly good grind of your hips, you feel his bulge pressing into your thigh. From a mere graze alone, you can tell it’s huge. A whimper tears out of you at the same time he groans above you. “You got nothin’ to prove, ain’t gonna change the fact you’re a slut who needs to get spanked ‘n stuffed to talk ‘er into behavin’ a bit.”

“Can’t even follow your own rules,” you huff, apparently still interested in shooting yourself in the foot even when Coach Miller has you ass-up over his knee.

“Don’t see how you care…” Joel slides a hand down between your legs. He rubs at your clit, an intense pressure that has you wanting more and less all at the same time, before dragging a thick finger across your opening. Arousal squelches between your legs and your hips jump – a dead giveaway to just how turned on you are, whether you like it or not. “when it gets you this turned on,” he finishes. Then that same finger is prodding at your mouth, glistening with your wetness. You whimper before tasting yourself, sucking obediently on his finger until he pulls away with a pop.

You sulk, “Don’t act like I can’t feel you ripping a hole in your jeans, Miller–”

The fourth spank is the hardest by far. The skin of your ass feels bitten by Joel’s ‘firm hand’. It’s the kind of hit that makes your legs kick in his lap and your fingers clutch in the couch’s arm for purchase. You wail, “Daddy!” Pain disappears from your mind when you realize what exactly you just said, quickly replaced by the churning coolant of embarrassment. If you were paying attention to anything else other than the shame suddenly inhabiting your chest, you might’ve been able to feel the twitch of his cock in his pants.

“Daddy, huh?” Joel hums, rubbing your hurt ass with one hand while the other strokes your shoulder. You bury your face back in your arms as an apology takes shape in the back of your throat. “Lucas your daddy, too?”

“No!” You squeak, adjusting in his lap. The hood of your clit catches on the rough material of Joel’s pants. Unable to stop yourself, you hump his knee again, shallow rolls of your hips. You can still feel his hardness against you. Needily, you tip your head up, panting as foggy pleasure hangs over your head.

“Stop makin’ a mess of daddy’s dress pants, baby, unless you wanna be on your knees, lickin’ it up.” You keen, and he chuckles knowingly. “Shoulda known, little whore like you gets off on that.”

Joel gives you a longer reprieve between the fourth and fifth spank. Instead, he strokes your ass and asks, “One more gonna be enough to set you straight, sweetheart?”

“Y..yes daddy,” you whimper. He hums in approval.

You shift back and forth, waiting for it to come — and when it does, it’s softer. It’s by no means a love pat, but it pales in comparison to his previous work. You still sniffle, squeezing your thighs together as he coos, “I know, I know. Poor baby, actin’ all high ‘n mighty. Can’t be on her high horse when she’s over Daddy’s knee.” Gentle, he pats your ass and guides you on all fours at the edge of the couch. He hums in approval. “See? Not throwin’ a hissy fit anymore. She’s all nice ‘n obedient when you get ‘er to act right.”

Joel spreads your pussy with his thumbs, and you hear the vulgar noise of him collecting his saliva before you feel his spit landing on your clenching hole. You’ve never felt so empty, not when your bottom drawer vibrator is buzzing against your core, definitely not when Lucas fucks you in the same old missionary. Whimpering for him, you arch your back to try to rub against his crotch.

“Quit your whinin’,” he snips, his thumb finding your clit in one swipe. Joel’s touch is firm, but not too firm, just enough to make your hips push down with a need only he’s ever made you feel.

Without warning, his middle finger slides inside of you, thick and calloused and so, so right. “Fuckin’... tight.” Another slides in as he starts scissoring you open, apparently satisfied enough when he crooks his fingers deep in your cunt. Instantly, he catches that spongy spot that you can never reach on your own. You nearly crumple with the sensation, limbs going weak and buckling. “That the spot?” he asks, but he already knows.

“Mhm,” you moan, chin instinctively tucking against your chest as if you can get away from the pleasure he’s giving you, as if you’d ever want to.

Then — he stops.

His fingers sit heavy inside of you, so close to where you need them to go. “What the fuck, Joel?”

"Baby, s’that how you get what you want?” He rubs your thigh with his free hand and gives it a quick swat. “Help daddy out, tight girl. I'm not just gonna let you get away with bein’ a spoiled brat. Work yourself on my fingers."

You’re putty in the palm of his hand – malleable, docile for him to treat or mistreat you however gets him hard. You whine, punching your hips back nonetheless. Grinding down, down, down, your cunt unresisting when he gives you another finger. It’s crude, the way you moan for him.

Even though he’s hardly doing anything, just the hand you’re getting yourself off on, that all-consuming strain in your body only gets stronger. “Daddy – close, please…”

“Attagirl, atta-fuckin’-girl, give it to me.” He rewards you with a press of his fingers against that golden spot inside of you. Your orgasm splinters through you, an ecstasy-charged mist fanning over your body. Your release runs down Joel’s hand and your thighs with every clench of your cunt, like you’ve been skinned and set ablaze by your own desire. You fall forward on the couch, no longer able to hold yourself up, arms a tangled mess as you gasp into the cushion. “You come so pretty, baby. Messy pussy, too. Soaked me up to my goddamn elbow.”

You’re still reeling from the best orgasm you’ve had in months, maybe ever, when you hear obscene slurping noises from behind you. You cast a look at him, your arousal returning with a vigor at the sight of Joel sucking his fingers clean. He groans at the taste, and you swear you see his cock jump in his khakis. Stomach warped with desire, you’re about to plummet off of the very dangerous edge of doing just about anything for him right now.

“Please fuck me, daddy,” you plead, and in any other position, with any other person, it might be mortifying, something worth clutching your pearls over. But this is Coach Joel Miller, the last person you ever expected to be fucking, giving you the best fuck you never expected.

“There’s those manners,” Joel praises, leaning over you to press a brief kiss to your shoulder blade. You can smell your release on his lips, a sweet smell that’s so distinctly you. He eases off of you, presumably to take off his pants. There’s the shuffling of fabric, and when he returns to your side, you’re disappointed to find he hasn’t even unbuckled his belt.

You pout at him again, still desperate to get your way. Eye-level with his bulge, you’re salivating over it. You had made a mess of his dress pants, a wet spot formed just above his knee, taunting you. You lick your lips.

“Think it’s only fair,” he says, looming over you. He’s holding the Sharpie you’d brought along with you. Your brows furrow as you look up at him through your lashes. “If I give ya the same treatment you gave his jersey.” His gaze is cocky as he pops the cap with his thumb, giving the marker a twirl.

Oh.

It shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does. Nothing about this should turn you on as much as it does, yet here you are, in a puddle of your own sweat and cum, itching for the next thing he gives you. And if it’s marking up your body before he fucks your brains out, so be it.

He nudges his head, gesturing for you to get down on your stomach. You lift your knees up and flatten yourself out on the cushions. The vinyl sticks and pulls from your skin as you get where he wants you. A soft, surprised noise leaves you when he straddles your thighs, his clothed cock nudging at your seam.

“Holy fuck,” you breathe out, because it’s the only phrase you can think of that even holds a candle to what all of this has become.

A laugh fans out from under his breath as he starts at your freshly spanked, raw ass. The Sharpie is cold and foreign, tugging at your skin as he inks you up. “Gotta make sure you match before I dick you down, don’t I? What is it you wrote on his jersey? ‘Whore’? Between the two ‘a ya, I woulda put my money on you for that one.”

If that wasn’t enough indication, you figure out what he’s doing by the time he gets to the right cheek, what feels like an ‘R’ taking shape across your ass. He finishes the ‘E’ and sets down the Sharpie for a moment, his meaty palms spreading your ass. It still thrums with the afterglow of his spanking. You don’t think you can throb any more than you already are, but then he spits on you for the second time that night, this time landing it on your puckered asshole. A gasp flutters from your lips as you grind down into the couch, his spit dripping down your folds.

“See? Real whorish, fuckin’ my couch.” He taps your ass for good measure. “Asshole makes a perfect fuckin’ ‘O’, baby. Looks a whole lot better than that chicken scratch shit you put on his jersey.” You think maybe, just maybe, he’ll dismount you and pull his cock out, but instead he keeps writing, scribbling on your back and upper thighs. Every pull of your skin under the bleeding ink has you aching for him.

When he’s content with his work, he lifts off of you, hands fumbling to undo his belt. It snaps apart, dangling open around his waist as his hands open up his khakis. “You let Lucas fuck that sweet lil’ cunt raw?” he asks.

“No, I don’t,” you admit, unable to tear your eyes away from his cock as he pulls it out, and fuck you. Your eyes don’t even feel big enough to take all of him in, and you have no idea how you’re going to fit him between your legs. You almost go cross-eyed at the sight of it, his head leaking precum.

“Thought so. You gonna let me fuck it raw?”

“Yes, daddy,” you breathe out, drool pooling in your mouth at the thought of having him inside of you, having him inside of you bare. Yet another thing you never gave to Lucas in a year of disappointing sex, but are eagerly giving up to Joel.

“Gotta be a real nasty slut,” Joel says, returning to his place atop your thighs, his thick ones framing yours. Your breath hitches when you feel the weight of his cock gliding through your ass cheeks and down to your cunt. “to let your ex-boyfriend’s coach bareback ya in the locker room.” A heady gasp tears from you when the head of his cock bumps your clit. He teases you — his cock, slippery with a combination of your arousal, skating from your clit to your spasming opening, not quite nudging in.

“Daddy, please – I need it… need you to fuck me, fuck me–”

He doesn’t make you wait any longer.

When he pushes in, it knocks the air out of your lungs. The only proof that you’re still breathing is when you let out a pitchy, desperate moan. Joel grunts, teeth gritted as he flattens himself down against your spine so he can roll his hips into yours. The pain of his size becomes an afterthought just as quickly as the pain of your spanking, dwarfed by the pleasure he gives you just as easily.

“Fuuuuck,” Joel groans, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and shoulder. Inch at a time, he works you open, grinding his hips into your opening. “Could you be any goddamn tighter?” He bites at your neck from behind with every rock of his hips into yours until he bottoms out.

“Big,” is all you manage to squeak out as he hauls you back on his cock, already prodding your g-spot with his head. Your eyes roll back as you clench around him.

His fingers go up to run circles around your shoulder, soothing you, grounding you when his cock has you anything but. “Mmm, I know, I know. You can take it. All whores can.” With that, Joel starts fucking you, really fucking you, a punishing, relentless pace where he pulls out entirely before filling you to the brim. Each snap of his hips into yours fills the locker room with shameless sounds, the mere background to your depraved moans.

“Never had your pussy stretched by a man double your age before, huh?”

“N–no! Never… never had my pussy stretched mu…much at all–”

Joel slams into you, laughs at the strained noise that you make. “Yeah? Those dumbfucks on my team not doin’ it for ya, baby?” You don’t answer, don’t think he’s expecting one until his hand wraps around your front, forearm pressed firm against your tits. His thick hand wraps lightly around your neck, jostling you. It’s not hard enough to blur your vision, but just hard enough to remind you of the power he has over you. The power you allow him to have. It’s invigorating. Everything about him is.

Moans spurt out of you as you fumble to answer, “No da– daddy! You — ah! — do it for m–me!”

“And what do you say for that? For goin’ outta my way to show you what a real fuck is?”

“Thank you, Daddy!” you cry out. You’re spilling down his thighs, the wet suction of your pussy around his cock making noises more vulgar than you’ve ever heard in porn.

His hand squeezes again at your neck, and you feel floaty, a bubble just waiting to pop. Pleasure dances in every one of your veins, every nerve ending burning like a match that he keeps striking ablaze.

“There you go, desperate slut just needs a freshly spanked ass, a good dickin’ down, and a hand ‘round her throat to behave.” Joel’s pace stays just as harsh, crushing your g-spot with his cock. “Should keep you back here for when we lose, tie you to the goddamn desk. Let my staff take turns with you, see how much crybaby you have left in ya when a dozen men’s loads are drippin’ outta your reamed fuckin’ cunt. Bet you like it when men use you.” The whine that almost gags you on its way out is enough to confirm it.

If he keeps talking to you and the wind blows the right way on your clit, you know you’ll be coming. You’re wringing out his cock with every flutter of your pulsing pussy. The beginning embers of your orgasm turn into a wildfire when he wedges his free hand down between your legs, rubbing messy circles into your sloppy clit. “Fuck, please, please, please,” you sob out, too riddled with pleasure to care about how pathetic you sound or look as you hump his hand while he pounds you.

“Can feel you squeezin’ me, baby.” Joel rasps, nipping at your ear. The hand around your throat falls fully to your chest, pressing you solid against him so he can fuck deeper, deeper, deeper. It’s enough to make you scream, hands clawing and scratching down his muscular grip on you. “C’mon, hun, give it to me, come on my cock, fuck.”

With another thrust, he has you pushed right down onto his fingers, rubbing and flicking you every which way. It’s all you need to come undone, your second orgasm of the night unlatching through you like something forked and angry, battering your sore limbs until there’s nothing left of it or you. You’re a mess, spit oozing down your chin as you slur “thank you daddy” like a broken record, thighs clamping around nothing.

Joel groans as you clench around his cock and continues his relentless pace, hips slapping against yours. The hand he’d been using to rub your clit migrates to your tits, grazing and then thumbing and then tugging lightly your nipples. “There it is, told ya you could be a good girl. Lettin’ your daddy use this cunt to get off, lettin’ me use you. I’m fuckin’ close, baby, where do you want me?”

And you want it even if you shouldn’t, want his cum deep inside of you, want it to leak out into your panties as you walk back to your dorm. You’re still no good at making decisions, too fucked out to tell right from left when you beg, “I–inside, fuck, come inside me, daddy, please.”

Joel practically growls at that, thrusts losing their steadiness as his hips jump and he hurtles towards his release. “Yeah, you’re a goddamn whore, beggin’ for this cum. And you’re gonna fuckin’ take it, yeah… fuckin’ take it.” He slams all the way into you for the last time before shooting his cum into your cunt, swearing and moaning. Breathing like he’s run a mile, he goes slack on top of you, pets the back of your head while he comes down from the exhilaration of his high.

With a gentle kiss to your shoulder, he rises, and the fantasy is over. His cock slips from your pussy, and you feel hollow with the loss. This is where he tucks himself back into his pants, runs a hand back through his hair, tells you to never show your face in his stadium again, and shoves you out the door.

And he does: tucks his softening cock into his boxers, zips up his khakis, does his belt, tames his post-sex head of hair. You wince even if you expected it, leaning down over the edge of the couch to grab your hoodie, already moving to tug it over your head.

“What do you think you’re doin’?” Joel asks, and his tone sounds much more different than the first time he’d asked you. He sounds offended. You blink confusedly, dazedly at him with your arms halfway through the armholes. “Let me clean you up, hun.” Joel side-steps the pile of your leggings and shoes, adjusting the hoodie on your arms and pulling it down your torso. “I know Lucas ain’t done you right, but you deserve to be taken care of, pretty girl.” Your heart pinches in a way that it shouldn’t, not for a hookup with your ex-boyfriend’s coach.

You shift, and he can’t help but look back between your legs where his cum escapes your hole. He manages to pry his eyes away, but not without licking his lips first. “I’ll be right back, baby. Promise.”

When he’s back, it’s with a damp rag. He crouches down in front of you, taking it to the apex of your thighs and wiping away the combination of your releases, careful not to nudge your sensitive clit. He kisses your thigh gently before pulling back, folding the towel on the arm of the couch you’d been crying into just a few minutes ago.

Joel shimmies your ruined panties up your thighs, followed by your leggings. You let him, breath cut like a snipped wire from the sheer intimacy of it all, intimacy you’d lacked with Lucas even after a year of trying. You’d stayed with him for comfortability at your own expense. How stupid could you have been?

Joel pats your knee, eyes soft and weirdly sincere as he looks at you. “I’m sorry about Lucas, honey, but I meant it when I said you deserve to be taken care of.” He rubs the back of his neck before holding something out to you. A business card, his work number plastered in bold sans-serif font across the bottom. “I know this is in reverse ‘n all, but I’d really like to take you out and treat you right, if you’ll let me.”

Saying yes is your first good decision in a while.

#vetty's words 𓇢𓆸 #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller/reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller/f! reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic

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sansaorgana · 3 months ago

Text

— SISTER'S CHOICE

BROKEN OATH (AU)

PAIRING — Ser Gwayne Hightower x fem!Reader // Princess Elaena Targaryen (OC)

SUMMARY — You manage to escape Oldtown after fifteen years of marriage to Ser Gwayne Hightower in order to join your sister Rhaenyra in the upcoming war. Despite the oath given to Rhaenyra, you struggle to be away from your husband and children. Things complicate when you meet Gwayne in the battlefield.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — It’s written from the Reader’s perspective but she is a Targaryen and Rhaenyra's younger sister. I did not describe any of her body or face features except for that she has silver hair, lilac eyes and her name is Elaena. The story is quite long already so I haven't described the beginnings of Reader/Elaena with Gwayne or her childhood – you can find them in the "Broken Oath" fanfic (link above), which is an AU of this one (or this one is an AU of "Broken Oath" 🙈). Canon events are treated very loosely here for the purpose of the plot (Rook's Rest for example).

WARNINGS — Reader/Elaena is responsible for the deaths in the battlefield & if you're Team Black you might be unhappy about the ending (+ I don't like Daemon and it shows, sorry)

WORD COUNT — 9,930 (💀)

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

SISTER'S CHOICE

It was quite a long trip from Oldtown to Dragonstone but you hadn’t made any stops and now both you and your dragon were exhausted. The sun was slowly rising when you arrived but you had a weird feeling deep in your guts – some sort of anxiety – before seeing your sister after fifteen years. How would you even greet her now? What would you say? That fear alone was stopping you from landing.

Eventually, you spotted a few people looking out for you from the castle. They had to be wondering what were you doing, circling around Dragonstone without clear intentions. After spotting your sister’s long silver hair in the wind, you decided to order Onyx to land on the sandy beach and you waited for someone to come out and greet you.

Sighing, you looked around and breathed in the fresh air. It felt so odd to be out of Oldtown – you hadn’t left it in fifteen years. Not even once. You had grown so used to it that you nearly missed it now. You certainly missed your children. They had to slowly wake up now and you wondered what your husband would tell them about your sudden absence.

Would they understand? Would they grow up to hate you? They were only children, you couldn’t expect them to comprehend the complicated situation of the upcoming war, the delicacy of your family’s relations. And what kind of mother abandoned her children like that? Perhaps it was true what they were saying about The Targaryens – just like dragons they rode, they were difficult to tame. Even an obedient and dutiful Princess like you still had fire and blood running through her veins.

Finally, you spotted your sister and a few of her guards walking towards you. You took off the hood of your cloak and petted nervous Onyx to calm her down.

“Sister,” Rhaenyra greeted you and you hurried to her side, leaving your dragon behind you. You gave her an anxious smile as your eyes scanned hers carefully.

She had grown older those past fifteen years but you couldn’t help a feeling that she had grown sadder, too. Either way, she was still your sister but also your Queen now.

“You came, Elaena,” Rhaenyra smiled at you nervously.

“My Queen,” you bowed down and the hood of your cloak fell onto your head again. Rhaenyra chuckled at that and approached you to fix it.

“It is green,” she pointed out while caressing the fabric of your cloak when you two were face-to-face now. Then, her fingers moved down to the golden clasp, which was The Hightower emblem.

“Forgive me,” you unclasped the cloak and let it fall down on the sand. “I am here now, by my sister’s side,” you told her.

“Come, we’ll make space for Onyx in the dragonpit,” Rhaenyra smiled at your dragon and tilted her head a little. “She’s as big as Caraxes now, do you know?”

You were surprised. You had no idea that your young and small dragon had grown so big. It was also unexpected that it had happened in Oldtown where Onyx had been alone and you had not been flying on her often either. She had been spoiled with sheep and your affection but that would be it, really. Other than that, she had been pretty bored there.

“I am glad,” you smiled at your sister. You wanted to take her by her arm but something was stopping you – some invisible barrier between you two and it was not because she was The Queen, no.

She had always been your father’s heir to you anyway. You had gotten used to the fact that Rhaenyra was your superior. The barrier was caused by the fifteen years apart. Despite knowing it was your sister, despite sharing the same blood, the same silver hair, the same lilac eyes – it was a stranger walking down the beach with you.

“Why did you come?” Rhaenyra asked, genuinely. The guards left you behind and watched Onyx fly up again to rest in the dragonpit after the long journey.

“You need dragons and dragonriders in the upcoming war with Aegon,” you answered, a little surprised as if you couldn’t understand why she had even asked that. It was obvious, after all.

“You loved him when he was a babe, did you not?” Rhaenyra smiled gently.

“I love him still, just like I love you – and to you I have sworn my loyalty,” you answered.

“Haven’t you sworn it to your husband, too, on your wedding day?” She kept inquiring and you grew uncomfortable with that. You didn’t want her to mention Gwayne because you were trying your hardest not to think of him.

“Are you suspecting I might be my father-in-law’s spy?” You suddenly turned your head around to look deep into her eyes. “If so, you hurt me deeply.”

“I would never suspect that!” Rhaenyra gasped and held your wrist to squeeze it assuringly. “You have been telling me in your letters that your marriage is a good one, that you love your children dearly. And now you are here, with me,” she pointed out.

“The war is coming,” you only shook your head.

Hadn’t she been expecting you to come and join her? In her letter, you had read that between the lines and now she was shocked to see you? When she had been asking for your loyalty and for remembering your oath… What had she been exactly expecting?

However, you had no opportunity to continue this conversation because you reached the castle and your uncle Daemon was waiting there with a very unpleasant expression on his face.

At first, your heart swelled in your chest at the sight of him. You wanted to run up to him and greet him like back in the old days when you had been a young girl and he would bounce you on his knee. But you froze at the sight of him eyeing you up and down as if you were an intruder.

“What does she want?” He asked Rhaenyra and you swallowed thickly at that tone of his voice.

“She is my sister, Daemon. She came to support me,” Rhaenyra explained.

“And you believe her?” Daemon whispered but you could hear him perfectly well.

“I can hear you, Uncle,” you nodded at him and he shot you a cold glance.

“That is King Consort to you. We don’t trust Hightower cunts here,” he drawled out.

“Daemon!” Rhaenyra scolded him and you were standing there, petrified.

You were not used to being treated this way. In Oldtown you were a Lady of the town – every man was bowing his head at you, they were showing you nothing but respect and your own Lord Husband would challenge Daemon this very moment if he had heard or seen the way you were treated.

But your Lord Husband was not here because you had abandoned him to join your sister. Your sister – not Daemon. So, you held your head high and clenched your jaw at him.

“I am Princess Elaena Targaryen,” you introduced yourself to him in case he had somehow forgotten. “Lady Hightower, to you, dear Uncle. Lady of Oldtown,” you added even though the last title was not technically yours yet as long as your father-in-law was alive but you had been ruling the city in his name alongside your husband for fifteen years now and everyone called you that.

Daemon, however, found your titles somehow funny. He chuckled at you.

“Onyx has grown, Daemon,” Rhaenyra informed him. There was a hint of harshness in her voice that made shivers go down your spine. Something deeply disturbing was going on between them and you had a feeling her marriage was not as wonderful as she had been describing it to you in her letters. “She’s as big as Caraxes now,” she added.

“But not as experienced,” Daemon dismissed that and laid his eyes on you again. He squinted them and looked you up and down before speaking to you again eventually. “Well, come in, Elaena. We are not in a position to refuse any dragonriders,” he said and turned around to walk away.

You looked at Rhaenyra, questioningly.

“Forgive him, he is nervous about the war and we have also lost our child recently… Our baby girl was born dead,” she sighed and caressed your arm.

“I am so sorry to hear that,” you whispered and gave her a hug. “Still, that gives him no right to speak to you in such a manner. You are his Queen, but, most importantly, his Lady Wife,” you explained. “Such manners are shocking to me.”

“It makes me glad,” Rhaenyra answered mysteriously and you furrowed your brow, “for it means that you had never experienced such treatment from your husband.”

You were given your own chambers in the part of the castle reserved for the royal family and you knew that it was the highest standard for Dragonstone but you missed your chambers in Oldtown dearly. The comfort was incomparable… The Hightower was cosier and warmer – it was full of wood and colours instead of the cold, grey stone. The Reach was warmer overall and the sound of the waves was soothing there, meanwhile in Dragonstone the stormy weather was keeping you up all night.

Not just the sound of the raging sea but also thoughts of your family. Each evening you were crying yourself to sleep, imagining the bedtime of your children, remembering all the rituals Gwayne was doing before going to sleep and you missed them dearly. You especially missed laying in your bed together and discussing your day – trying to work out some problems around Oldtown or with your children… Sometimes gossipping together. And now, you were squeezing your pillow tight and trying to communicate with your husband telepathically. Yet, you still had no idea what you would tell him if it was possible.

He hadn’t written you any letter and you couldn’t blame him since you left Oldtown without even a note on his desk. Yet, each time there were new letters coming to Dragonstone, you were expecting to see the familiar green envelope and your husband’s handwriting; begging you to come back. Gwayne, however, had his pride and you couldn’t be sad or angry about it now because you had always admired him for it.

Seeing Rhaenyra’s relationship with Daemon was only making you miss Gwayne more. He was a Lord Husband that so many women could only dream of – even The Queen of The Seven Kingdoms, apparently.

Daemon was not the only person treating you with a hint of mistrust. Your aunt Princess Rhaenys was by your side but even young Jacaerys was staring at you without a word most of the time even though you had been playing with him and bouncing him on your knee when he had been a babe.

It was not easy to get used to all of this – the coldness and emptiness of your chambers, the treatment of others. From the beloved Lady of Oldtown to a mistrusted Princess, a prodigal sister.

Your loyalty and surname that had been given to you through marriage was being brought up regularly, mostly by Daemon – especially during dinnertime or supper.

“It was not my choice to marry a Hightower and even if it was… I married Gwayne fifteen years ago. No one could have suspected this war…” You rolled your eyes at one more remark by the dinner table.

“Don’t be naive, Elaena!” Daemon snapped. “Everyone has suspected. That was the very reason why Otto Hightower sent you to his son in Oldtown.”

You didn’t answer and you felt the eyes of everyone staring at you and expecting some sort of remark. Daemon smirked at your silence, feeling like the winner.

“I am not used to being yelled at and treated in such a way. And I am certainly not used to dinnertime being a battle between the family members,” you stated calmly.

“Go back to Oldtown then,” Daemon scoffed. “If you find it so insufferable here, then go back to your husband. Do you think he is going to greet you with open arms after such betrayal?” He laughed and shook his head while taking a sip of the wine. “He is going to greet you with his sword instead, Princess,” he mocked your title and you swallowed your food thickly, feeling your stomach turning upside down.

Daemon had only voiced out the anxiety that you had been having for some time now – that Gwayne did not miss you at all. That he did not feel nothing but anger at you and that he would kill you at the very first opportunity. After all, you had hurt his pride and you had stained his honour and these things mattered to him more than anything else – except for your children, of course.

Your marriage had been good but it didn’t change the fact it was an arranged union and not a love match. Sometimes, though… Sometimes, laying in your bed, here, in Dragonstone, tossing and turning, you were quite sure that you had grown to love him, which was quite ironic to have such thoughts now when you had already ruined everything between you two. But you were sure he was not having the same thoughts about you anyway.

“My sister is more than welcome here,” Rhaenyra gave her husband a scolding look and squeezed your hand. You smiled at her, gratefully.

But the thing with Rhaenyra was that despite being The Queen, no one really seemed to care about it. No one except for you, Rhaenys and Daemon’s daughters. All the men, though, were still doing everything their own way. And Rhaenyra herself could not find any solution to deal with that, which made you wonder if she would really be a good Queen…

Not that you had ever voiced that out for it would be treason. You loved your sister and you were obliged to serve her because of the oath you had sworn. But still, you sometimes couldn’t help feeling that she was not a strong leader. On the other hand, it was not that surprising because she had no real experience in such matters and when things had gotten difficult in King’s Landing, she had fled to Dragonstone instead of staying in The Red Keep and learning how to be a good ruler.

The death of Lucerys had shaken everyone. The very first victim of the conflict being such a young and innocent boy… You were speechless and you had no words of comfort to offer. You were a mother, too, and you just couldn’t imagine what Rhaenyra had to feel.

You locked yourself in your chambers instead and spent your whole day staring at the small portrait you had taken with yourself from Oldtown. It was a portrait in the size of a locket and it was of your own four children – twelve years old Steffon Hightower with silver hair and lilac eyes standing next to his nine years old brother Loras Hightower who was a copy of his father with his auburn hair and blue eyes. The girls were sitting on the carpet – six years old Lysa Hightower with her father’s auburn hair and your lilac eyes and three years old Roslin Hightower with silver hair and blue eyes. You felt the warm tears streaming down your cheeks and all you really wanted was to hold them and make sure they were alright.

Sometimes you regretted your decision to flee from Oldtown. Perhaps you should have been an obedient and loyal wife like your mother had always been teaching you to be. It would save you lots of trouble.

Fifteen years earlier, before your departure to marry Gwayne, Rhaenyra had confessed to you that she had wished to be more like you – less rebellious, less stubborn. Meanwhile, you had always wished to be more like her and now you kind of were but you finally understood the price for it, too.

It was Princess Rhaenys that came to your chambers on that day. She sighed at the sight of you and approached you with a soft smile. She took the small portrait from your hands and took a look at the faces of your children.

“How accurate is it?” She asked.

“Very,” you sniffled your tears back. “I sleep with it under my pillow every night. And by day, I have them close to my heart,” you confessed.

“They’re very beautiful children,” Rhaenys sat next to you on the edge of your bed and handed you the portrait back. “What are they like?”

You knew she was trying to help you. She wanted you to talk about your children and let out all the tears that no one else in the castle would want to see now. Not even Rhaenyra because she was grieving her own loss. Meanwhile, your children were safe and sound in Oldtown but your heart was in grief anyway. You were grateful that your aunt wanted to hear about them because you felt like it was expected from you to not express any feelings towards The Hightowers, Oldtown, your husband or your offspring at all. Each display of affection or a hint of the fact that you were missing them was perceived as an act of treason.

You had sacrificed so much for them but no one seemed to understand the significance of it. No one except for Rhaenys and Rhaenyra but they were only two and against many.

“You would like Steffon the most, I think,” you caressed his little face on your portrait. “A true Targaryen, look at him. And he is so…” you chuckled through the tears. “So brave and bold. He’s going to be a knight like his father and, somehow, I have a feeling he’s going to be a dragonrider, too. I don’t know how but he’s determined enough to claim one,” you assured her. “And then there’s Loras…” Your fingers moved to your second son. “He inherited all the kindness and goodness and gentleness from Gwayne. From me, too, I assume. There is not a mean bone in his body. And my girls…” You moved your hand down and sighed. “That is Lysa, the one with auburn hair. And the little one with silver hair is Roslin. They… They were spending their whole days following me around and clinging to my skirts… I have no idea how they are managing now…” You sobbed and hid your face in your hands.

Rhaenys put her arm around you and pulled you closer as she rubbed your back to soothe you. She leaned in to kiss your temple.

“Their mother is strong and brave. She is righteous,” she whispered. “One day, they will understand it and forgive you. You had this calling in you, the calling to join your sister for you are a Targaryen, you are a dragonrider. We are never only mothers and wives and proper ladies. We are wild creatures, Elaena. Just like our dragons,” she lifted your chin up, forcing you to look into her eyes.

“I thought of taking them with me but… But they’re safer in Oldtown, far away from here. And Gwayne… Well, he would hunt me down and kill me for that, I am sure. He is a devoted father,” you tried to explain yourself but no matter how much you were doing so, you still felt like a terrible mother.

“You were right to leave them with him then,” Rhaenys caressed your arms. “Your husband will protect them and of that you are sure, I can see. They are safe there.”

“When this war ends, when we win…” Your lower lip trembled. “I will be allowed to reunite with my family, right? Rhaenyra will allow me?” You asked, a little unsurely.

“I am rather convinced that after we win this war, you are going to remain the Lady of Oldtown,” Rhaenys nodded and kissed your forehead. “You’re going to raise your children there and watch them grow happily.”

“And… And my Lord Husband?” You sniffled, while Rhaenys tilted her head. “I mean… He has to die, right?”

“I highly doubt Daemon would allow it any other way,” Rhaenys told you.

“Whatever he might be saying, he is not The King,” you reminded her.

“That decision will not be Rhaenyra’s to make. Daemon and Gwayne will most likely meet on the battlefield sooner or later,” your aunt reminded you and fixed your hair delicately. “You must think of your husband as dead from now on if you want to survive this,” she added and stood up to leave your chambers.

You knew that she had meant that with the best intentions but it only made you sob even more. You took another look at the portrait of your children and your heart squeezed in your chest. What was giving you a guarantee that Daemon would not hurt your babies, too? He seemed to be filled with an ugly desire to wipe all Hightowers out from this world.

Weeks had passed and you had grown colder and sharper lately. Daemon was not around any longer for he had left for Harrenhal, which was helpful, but if he was still in Dragonstone, you would surely be ready to confront him each time now. You were confronting everyone else whenever they doubted you and on multiple occasions you had confronted them to defend your sister, too.

You still missed your family but all those lonely nights had made you turn pretty heartless sometimes. All those suppressed feelings and regrets had made you a woman who was holding her head high and who was more and more sure of her skills. You were flying Onyx every day now to strengthen your bond even more and it was giving you lots of confidence.

Despite the fondness you still felt towards your marriage, you knew aunt Rhaenys had been right and the marriage was over now. You also realised how much you had missed out in those past fifteen years. You had been living more like a Hightower than a Targaryen. Your husband was a good and kind man but still – he had been trying to tame the dragon blood inside of you. You had not been riding Onyx enough and your High Valyrian had become rusty. Now you were finding your old self back again and all the pain you were feeling because of missing your children only fueled you to be even colder and sharper towards all of those who were doubting you.

When you entered the hall where the council was gathered, everyone nodded their heads at you and you didn’t even bother to nod back. As the Lady of Oldtown you had been respected but you had always been kind in return, too. In Dragonstone everything seemed to be turned upside down.

But why would Princess Elaena Targaryen bow down to any of these men inside the castle that had belonged to her ancestors for centuries now? It was your home – perhaps not in the same domesticated way as The Hightower but Dragonstone was your blood’s home and you would not bow down to anyone inside of it except for the monarch.

The only person you bowed at was of course Rhaenyra herself – your Queen, your sister. Not a perfect Queen and only slightly better sister but you had sworn to her and you valued honour just like your Lord Husband did.

“The battle is coming,” she explained to you as she pointed at the table with the map of Westeros because you were late to the gathering after flying on Onyx for a little too long this evening. “Tomorrow, the armies will clash around Rook’s Rest,” she added and pointed at the place.

“That is close,” you tilted your head. “But the castle has no significance to us, does it?”

“We have already lost enough and we cannot lose more!” one of the Lords protested. “It’s about our honour, my Princess.”

“I want to send a dragon,” Rhaenyra moved one of the stone dragons on the map to put it alongside the Black Army. “I do not intend to use it in battle. No burning, no crushing. I do not wish to be remembered as the first side of this conflict who used a dragon to kill her enemies because once we use them as weapons, the destruction from both sides will be unstoppable,” she explained and the Lords from her council sighed and rolled their eyes.

Those foolish, non-Targaryen men really wanted Rhaenyra’s dragons to cause slaughter, not understanding the possible consequences.

“The dragon will be there to patrol the battlefield – it will be there just in case the Greens send their own, too. And it will be there to intimidate the enemy. Intimidate only,” Rhaenyra pointed out.

“I shall go,” Baela spoke up and everyone laid their eyes on her but you spotted that Rhaenyra was unsure. Baela was like a daughter to her and even if the dragon was not supposed to actually participate in any fighting, it still was a risky business to go.

“I shall go,” you straightened your back and now everyone looked at you. Baela was visibly unhappy with that, too. She wanted to prove herself.

“But…” She started.

“Onyx is bigger than Moondancer,” you told her. “And I am older. This is far too dangerous for you.”

“But…” She sighed again and looked at Rhaenyra in a way that suggested she knew something you had no idea of. “Who is going to tell The Princess?”

“Who is going to tell me what?” You shook your head questioningly as you looked at all the gathered members of the council. The men clasped their hands and looked down or they tried to avoid your gaze in different ways; looking through or behind you, turning their heads away and clearing their throats. “Who is going to tell me what?” You repeated the question, irritated now.

“Elaena,” Rhaenys finally spoke up and you looked at her, “it is your husband who leads The Green army now, so we have been informed. Your father-in-law called for him and Ser Gwayne Hightower came all the way from Oldtown to lead the army of his nephew.”

You blinked a few times at that revelation, still not processing it fully.

“And Cole?” You asked.

“Aegon named him his new Hand,” Rhaenyra informed you. “He was summoned back to King’s Landing.”

“And Otto?” You furrowed your brow.

“Probably on his way back to Oldtown, Gods only know,” Rhaenyra scoffed. “It doesn’t matter now, Elaena. What matters is that your husband leads the enemy’s army.”

Short silence occurred and you knew that everyone was observing your reaction carefully as if they were inspecting you. But those past few weeks you had learnt how to keep a poker face on. Your jaw was clenched as you discretely wiped your sweaty hands in your skirts.

“I shall go,” you nodded, surely.

“Elaena…” Rhaenyra gave you a meaningful look as if she was scolding you. “I do not think this is a good idea.”

“It must be. It is my husband,” you explained.

“Do you think he might stop his army from attacking at the sight of you?” Jacaerys asked you but you spotted a hint of mockery in his voice.

“I do not know. It might motivate him further to attack, it might want him to stop or it might make him indifferent,” you admitted, truthfully. “But it must be me going there,” you insisted, looking deep into your sister’s eyes.

You desperately wanted her to understand that it was important for you to see him again – even if it would be under such circumstances.

Rhaenyra nodded and you cracked a smile although some men were whispering between each other about this decision but you decided to pretend not to hear it.

“You shall leave at dawn,” Rhaenyra told you. “But, Elaena, remember – do not attack, do you hear me? If The Greens bring their own dragon and they use it, only then you are allowed to join the fight,” she pointed her finger at you.

“I understand,” you nodded your head. It was the reason why you wanted to do it – because it meant patrolling and intimidating only, not the real fight.

“Good. I trust you, sister,” Rhaenyra smiled at you.

“Thank you, my Queen.”

In the morning, you didn’t even have breakfast, too nervous for the upcoming battle. You let your maids braid your hair according to the Valyrian customs and you wore an armour that had been made for you recently. It would be the first time you'd actually wear it outside.

The armour was made of black metal with the ornaments made of Valyrian steel. It was light and feminine but it was intimidating, too, and surely worthy of a dragonrider. You insisted on the black colour because of Onyx’s scales.

You hid the small portrait of your children inside your armour and you looked at yourself one more time in the mirror. You couldn’t help but smile although it was difficult to recognise yourself like this.

“I am a dragon,” you whispered to yourself and lifted your chin up. “I am a Targaryen Princess and I am a dragon blood, a dragon rider – a dragon myself,” you repeated, trying to motivate yourself and with a deep breath, you left the chambers as fast as possible to go to the dragonpit.

Onyx was already waiting for you and a brand new saddle had been placed upon her back – it was matching your black armour. She purred at the sight of you and you petted her nose the way she liked it.

“We have a job to do, my girl,” you told her. “We have to scare Gwayne a little,” you chuckled and she huffed in a way that resembled laughter, too.

With a smile, you jumped on her back and you flew out of Dragonstone. Onyx roared when you were up in the sky as if she was saying farewell.

It didn’t take long to get to Rook’s Rest on a dragonback but the closer you were to your destination, the more nervous you were becoming. You saw from a distance the banners of the two armies and you could hear the clinging sounds of their armours in the wind, the battlecries and the cannons.

They were starting the battle already when you arrived and Onyx announced you with a long and loud roar. You straightened yourself and looked down proudly, with a smirk on your face. Everything froze below you for a moment and then a thunderous cheer greeted you amongst the Black Army.

It was a powerful feeling, you had to admit. No experience of yours could match with it – no memory from when you had been The Royal Princess living in King’s Landing, no memory of your recent time now in Dragonstone and not even any memory of yours from Oldtown where you had been the Lady Hightower.

No amount of respect and power that had ever been shown towards you could match to what you were feeling now – you felt pretty invincible, in fact. And you knew it was bold of you and it was only caused by the sudden rush of adrenaline but in that moment you felt like The Queen yourself. Like you could challenge Rhaenyra and Aegon both – after all, you were their sister, too. Your father had been The King and you were a Targaryen. You had been born to rule over those people below you – those small figures that resembled ants in comparison to your Onyx and its fire.

It was scary how easy it was to forget that you were one of those ants, too.

You ignored the cheers of the Black Army and you looked down at The Greens, searching for one person only – obviously. And you spotted him as your heart skipped a beat.

Gwayne was sitting on his horse in his beautiful armour that you had always admired. Even from this great height you could see that he was looking up with fear in his eyes. You smirked and Onyx roared once again, more angrily this time. The Green Army was panicking as the men were shouting at each other and some were trying to hide.

All the time stopped for you for a short while, though. Your eyes were fixed on your Lord Husband only – it had been a few long weeks apart from him. You wondered what was going inside his head at the moment but most likely it was nothing but a paralysing fear. It was a painful death to die in the fire and he had been telling you about it a few times before that it was one of his fears whenever you had teased him about using Onyx against him. Now, it was no longer a banter between a married couple but reality.

You didn’t want to torment him any more. You ordered Onyx to fly away and leave The Greens alone for now as you went back higher in the skies to patrol the battle. Despite giving them a sign that you were not there to kill them, from the corner of your eye, you spotted that some of the cannons of the Green Army were now aimed at you and Onyx.

Gwayne, however, shaking out of his state of fear, ordered them to turn around and aim at the castle and The Blacks instead. You smiled to yourself and kept circling up in the air as Onyx roared.

Despite your strong bond with her, you could feel how uneasy she was, how impatient. It surprised you because Onyx was a young dragon and she had no experience in battle. In fact, you had suspected her to shy away or get scared at the sight the real fight. And now, your girl seemed to be pretty bold and angry as she huffed and puffed, while her muscles tensed.

“Lykirī, Onyx, lykirī,” you ordered as you patted her neck to calm her down but you had to admit that her restlessness was making you feel worried if you were even able to fully control her after all.

She roared and lowered herself. You squinted your eyes to observe the battle but you had to shout Lykirī! all the time at your dragon because she seemed to be more than eager to join the fight. The sight of her and the sounds she was making seemed to work, though. The Greens were terrified and kept looking up all the time to make sure she wouldn’t burn them all any second. Your intimidation plan seemed to be working better than you had expected.

A few times during the battle, you found Gwayne’s eyes somehow and he would look up back at you but then he would ride away on his horse. Each time, your heart clenched inside your chest and Onyx had to feel it because it was when she was growing the most uneasy.

So far, it was the Green Army that had been winning battle after battle but now they seemed to be too distracted by the dragon flying overhead. It was not the fault of your husband’s leadership – your knowledge of warfare was little but you could see even from up there that most of his orders and ideas were good. It was just simply not enough when a huge beast was a constant deathly treat. The morales were simply too low and you could see that some knights even tried to desert the battlefield in a desperate attempt to save themselves from your hypothetical dragonfire. Meanwhile, The Blacks were not as organised but they felt more confident than ever with The Targaryen Princess watching over them.

“Lykirī, Onyx!” You shouted at your dragon when you felt that her neck was tensing as if she was about to let out the fire. “What’s wrong with you, girl?” You hummed to yourself and leaned in to pat her neck and then you froze at the sight below you.

Gwayne was not wearing his helmet anymore and he was no longer in the saddle. You couldn’t spot his horse but he was surrounded by the Black Army knights. He was fighting them bravely but he was alone against four men and it was a hopeless struggle yet he refused to give up and become their prisoner. You looked around and spotted that most of the Green knights that remained in the battlefield were struggling in a similar way to your husband. You knew very well how it would end now. It would be the very first victory of your army and Rook’s Rest would be defended.

But at what price?

You could see Gwayne’s face more clearly now as Onyx lowered herself even further. He was exhausted and bruised, dirty from the mud and blood and his lip was cut. You had to fight an urge inside of you to just run into his arms, to hold him again, to kiss him, to be with him.

But, so far, it looked like you would never be able to do it since he would lose soon. And you would continue your life with the image of him dying in the battlefield – you would continue your life with regret of leaving him and then doing absolutely nothing to help him in the battlefield.

Onyx groaned loudly and exposed her claws and teeth. You were about to calm her down again and then you noticed something that you had not noticed before – she was not trying to attack the Green Army but… the Black one.

You froze as you realised that her eyes were fixated on the knights carrying your sister’s banners. The fire forming in the depths of her throat was aimed at the men gathered near the castle walls and trying to stop the attack of Gwayne’s army.

Onyx was not loyal to Rhaenyra, after all. Onyx was your dragon and she was loyal to you only. You were her mistress and her rider. She knew you better than anyone else.

Some of the knights of the Black Army cheered at you and your dragon – so confident and sure of themselves that they hadn’t noticed that Onyx’s anger was aimed at them. You squinted your eyes at the black banners of Rhaenyra and then the few of the remaining green ones of Aegon.

Gods damn it, you thought. You loved them both – your sister and your brother. But you also did not really care about any of them being the ruler of Westeros because you were not close with any of them. You had been close to your sister but that was fifteen years ago and now she was like a stranger to you. Aegon had been a baby when you left to Oldtown. Your real family – the man you loved, the father of your children – he was down there, struggling, and surely about to die soon if you wouldn’t do anything to help him.

“Dracarys, Onyx,” you ordered after taking a deep breath in. You watched as if you were outside of your own body how her fire destroyed half of the Black Army in mere seconds. You blinked a few times, still detached physically and mentally from the scene that you were responsible for.

Your dragon seemed to have lots of fun, though. She landed on the ground, crushing a few Black knights on the way. The remaining ones were widening their eyes, too terrified to move or they were trying to run away. Onyx did not need your commands anymore, she just kept on burning them as her waving tail destroyed the castle’s tower, killing dozens of men in the process. You were sitting in the saddle with your back straightened and your chin high, looking over death and destruction with the poker face you had mastered the previous weeks.

You had just become the murderer and the destroyer – the very first person in this war who used her dragon as a weapon. And yet, you felt nothing. Perhaps the regret would come later but all that mattered to you now was that Gwayne was safe again. The remaining Green knights ran up to him and helped him to defeat his enemies and then they stood behind their commander while watching the scene in terror.

When the Black Army was defeated by Onyx nearly single-handedly, you turned her around to face the remaining knights by your husband’s side and Gwayne himself. Onyx roared at them and you could hear that she was happy to see them but they didn’t know her the way you did, therefore they remained terrified. After all, you could have been a maniac who would kill everyone, right?

You were a Targaryen, after all.

You enjoyed their fear for a short while and then you ordered Onyx to lay down and she did so, allowing you to dismount her. Your legs were a bit shaky from all the hours in the saddle and all the emotions but you managed to do it gracefully enough.

You turned around to look into Gwayne’s blue eyes. They were filled with shock and terror but you ignored that completely, finally doing something you had wanted to do for weeks now.

You ran up to him and straight into his arms, nearly knocking him off on the ground as your armours clashed loudly. The knights surrounding him were observing the scene carefully, too scared to react in any way since your Onyx had just given the show of what she was capable of.

Now, however, she looked pretty adorable and innocent as she seemed to take a small nap in the middle of the battlefield full of ashes and blood.

“My Lord,” you cupped your husband’s face and he looked into your eyes with a hint of sadness that you could had expected. However, you were glad that it was sadness instead of anger. “Will you ever forgive me for abandoning you?” You asked, nearly innocently, while biting on your lip as if you weren’t responsible for all this death and destruction below your feet.

Gwayne looked nervously at Onyx napping behind your back and cracked a sad smile at you.

“Do I have a choice, my Lady Wife?” He tried to make a joke as he put his hands on your waist. “If I say no, you will order your dragon to burn me.”

“Onyx would never burn you,” you shook your head with a chuckle as you sniffled your tears back. “That dragon is more difficult to manage than I expected.”

“She is just like you then, my Princess,” Gwayne raised one of his hands to caress your cheek. His touch was gentle like he could not believe that you were really there, standing in front of him.

“She is my dragon, after all. Onyx knows my heart – I could lie to myself but I could never lie to her,” you nodded and then you looked around. “What a mess I have caused.”

“Indeed,” Gwayne only nodded and took his hand away from you.

He turned around and ordered his men to look for the wounded knights and to go for the castle since it was practically left for the taking now. They had to put the new banners on the walls now. You kept standing there and waiting for him to finish so you would be left alone to talk now. When it happened, he looked at you with a sigh and you cracked a smile at his handsome face even though it was bruised and dirty.

“I had to leave. She is my sister, I have sworn to her, she needed me,” you explained.

“I know,” Gwayne nodded. “It broke my heart, Elaena, but I understood. At least some part of me did. I could not understand how you could leave our children like that,” he approached you and you looked away, too ashamed to meet his gaze.

“How are they? What have you told them?”

“They are safe,” Gwayne assured you. “They miss you…” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I have lied to them… Well, not really. I have told them that you went to visit your sister. That it was an urgent family matter and you had no time to say farewell but you would be back… Soon,” Gwayne explained. “They are too young to know about the war so they believed me.”

“I doubt Steffon did. He is ten and two now, of course he knows about the war,” you pointed out and shyly looked up. “I shall go to them, even today. I shall take Onyx and go back to Oldtown to hold my children and…” You stopped when you realised something painful. “Of course, that is, if you allow me,” you fixed yourself.

“You are the Lady of Oldtown, I would never forbid you from the city,” Gwayne shook his head. “And you are their mother, they need you.”

“Yes, but so do you. Especially now,” you explained. “After seeing our children, I shall come back to you. I shall accompany you in each battle from now on. I have started something you have no idea of… Now Rhaenyra will make sure to send her dragons to war, too. Her pain and anger will be great from my betrayal,” you pointed out.

“Why did you betray her?” Gwayne asked, raising his eyebrow. “You have sworn to her, haven’t you? What made you change your mind to support King Aegon instead?”

“Fuck Aegon!” You dismissed him and he widened his eyes. “And fuck Rhaenyra. I don’t care about any of them.”

“You shall not be heard saying such things,” Gwayne chuckled nervously.

“They are my siblings, I can speak whatever of them,” you shrugged your arms. “I am by your side only,” you confessed and you looked away.

You knew it was a bit stupid to confess such things when you were the one who had abandoned him without a word of a warning or any explanation. You should be grateful that he was talking to you instead of cutting your head off – as your Lord Husband he had every right to after your stunt and since you were technically a traitor to both of the sides, no one would even punish him for killing you.

But Gwayne moved even closer to you and grabbed your wrist to squeeze it, which made you look up at him shyly again.

“I love you, Elaena. And please, do forgive me that it took me losing you to finally say it out loud. And if it took you running away to realise the same about me, then I can be only grateful for this experience. You are a dragon, my Princess, and I am sorry for forgetting about that,” he whispered.

You couldn’t believe your ears… He was apologising to you?!

“Do not be too greedy, Lord Husband. Do you really expect me to admit out loud that I love you as if I haven’t just betrayed my own army for you? Is that not enough?” You chuckled and so did he, awkwardly. He leaned in to place a gentle kiss upon the palm of your hand and then he caressed it lovingly. You could feel the longing and yearning in those gestures. “I’ve missed you,” you confessed. “I’ve missed us.”

“So have I,” Gwayne kissed your forehead. It was not proper to exchange such affections in public but you were in the middle of the battlefield so you did not bother to care about it. “But it would be my greatest wish for you to stay in Oldtown after coming back there. I do not want you on the battlefield, Elaena.”

“You can’t stop me,” you shrugged your arms and squeezed his wrists lovingly.

“Haven’t you caused enough trouble already?” He tried a different approach as he smirked at you.

“Watch me,” you smirked back and gently kissed him on the lips.

You hurried through the halls of The Hightower while all the maids and servants were staring at you with widened eyes. They certainly had not expected to ever see you again but no one was trying to stop you. You rushed to the nursery room where all your children had been gathered after your arrival. You had changed from your armour into a comfortable dress and had ordered your maids that you wanted to see your sons and daughters.

You finally pushed the doors open and tears of joy streamed down your cheeks at the sight of their faces. Loras, Lysa and Roslin hurried to you with big smiles and hugged you tightly. You crouched down to squeeze them all lovingly.

“Mummy!” Little Roslin seemed to be the happiest and she was practically shaking at the sight of you. Your heart ached for her when you kissed her all over her tiny face.

“We’re so happy to see you again, Mother,” Loras greeted you like a big boy and you cracked a smile at him before kissing his forehead.

“I am so happy to see you again, too, my love. I’ve missed you terribly,” you confessed, looking at Steffon from the corner of your eye. The silver haired boy was keeping his distance from you and staring at you questioningly. “Steffon?” You called for him and he walked up to you reluctantly.

“Mother,” he only said and kissed your cheek before moving away. “Does father know that you’re here?”

“Of course,” you furrowed your brow at him. “I saw him yesterday,” you nodded at him but he didn’t look convinced.

“And how was the time with your sister?” Lysa asked and you kissed her cheeks.

“It was good,” you nodded with a sad smile. “But I regretted that I couldn’t be with you.”

“Will you stay now?” Loras asked and you caressed his head gently.

“I wish I could but I have to join your father,” you explained. “We will be back soon. Together,” you assured him.

“Father left for the war,” Steffon pointed out.

“And I must, too. I am a Targaryen and a dragonrider, my darling,” you tried to explain. “Either way, let’s not dwell on that now. We have a whole day to spend together,” you squeezed the hands of your girls.

You didn’t leave your children even for a second for the whole day and in the evening you allowed them to sleep with you in your chambers that you share with Gwayne. Since he was not in Oldtown, there was a lot of empty space in the bed. Steffon did not join you in the evening, though, and for the whole day he was roaming around but never actively spending his time with you either. It was hurting you deeply but you wanted to give him space and you were aware that he was old enough to realise more than you’d like him to. You could not blame him for being angry.

Watching your sweet babies sleep, you could not drift off to the land of dreams yourself. You had spent the previous night in the arms of your husband after weeks of being apart and it had surely helped you to fall asleep but now you were being haunted by the visions of what had happened in the battlefield and of what Rhaenyra’s reaction had to be after hearing about your betrayal.

You were laying on your back and staring at the ceiling when the doors creaked as they opened and you lifted yourself on your elbows to see the intruder. It was Steffon.

“Mother?” He whispered. “Are you asleep?”

“No, my love. Come in,” you whispered back and carefully left the bed, making sure not to wake up the rest of your children.

You approached your son and put your hands on his shoulders. The night was cold, therefore there was a fire burning in the fireplace. You brought him closer and you both sat on a fluffy carpet there. Steffon avoided your gaze but you could see he was dying to ask you something.

“What is it, my love?” You fixed his silver hair gently.

“I know what the war is about and that you left to see your sister…” He mumbled out quietly. “You chose her. Not us,” he pointed out and dared to look up, his lilac eyes meeting yours.

“No, I chose you. You have no idea what I have done, the choice I have made,” you nodded at him and caressed his cheek with your finger. “I left to see her, she is my sister, my blood. I grew up alongside her, we share the same father and the same mother. But there was a hole in my chest because I missed you and… And I missed your father, too,” you confessed.

“I have never seen him sadder,” Steffon said and your heart clenched inside your chest. “I knew it was not about you visiting your sister. I knew immediately you had abandoned us.”

“I know you are angry at me now and you have every right to be. And I know how much children hate it when they are being told that but one day you shall understand it. Because you are a Targaryen, perhaps the most out of all my children,” you smiled at him.

“Because of my hair and eyes?”

“No, my love. All of my children are as Targaryen as Hightower. But you have the spirit… The fire,” you told him. “I love all my children dearly but you are a dragon,” you nodded.

“Do you have to leave again?” He asked and his lilac eyes filled with tears.

“I’ll be back,” you promised. “But I’m a dragonrider and when the war calls, I am on the go,” you explained. “Your father needs me by his side and King Aegon needs more dragons.”

Steffon sniffed his tears back and he finally moved closer to hug you. You wrapped your arms around him and placed a kiss on the top of his head.

In the evening of the very next day you were already dismounting Onyx in King’s Landing. All that travelling had been exhausting for you and her but it was necessary. You patted her and allowed her to rest in the dragonpit as you were being escorted to The Red Keep by a few guards.

You were wearing your armour again even though it felt a bit wrong to wear the armour that Rhaenyra had requested to be made for you so you could fight the war for her.

Gwayne was waiting for you by the gates to the castle. You smiled widely at the sight of him and you ran up to your husband as he ordered the guards to walk away because he would escort you to The King himself.

“And how was it?” He asked you after kissing the palm of your hand.

“Only Steffon knew, just as I suspected,” you sighed. “But we have explained everything to each other. I believe he has forgiven me or at least he is no longer cross with me,” you nodded. “I miss them again but the pain is less when I know I am with you,” you smiled and Gwayne took you by your arm to lead you to the council meeting.

“You have become quite a controversial figure, my Princess,” he informed you and you chuckled nervously.

“I do wonder why,” you tried to joke.

The doors were opened in front of you and you were announced as Princess Elaena Targaryen, Lady Hightower while everyone was staring at you.

The man sitting right in front of you had to be your brother Aegon because he was taking your father’s seat by the table. You bowed down at him and after a short while of silence, he laughed and clapped his hands.

“Sister!” He greeted you so happily that you were nearly suspecting an ambush. He stood up and rushed to your side to wrap his arms tightly around you. “Sister Elaena! How good it is to see you again! Do you remember me?” He took a step back and looked deep into your eyes, hoping for a positive answer like an excited puppy.

You cracked a smile at him and dared to move your hand up to brush a single silver hair strand behind his ear in a motherly way.

“Of course I do, my King,” you nodded. “You were a small babe then but I remember it fondly,” you assured him and it was no lie. “You loved to sit on my lap by the table and eat all the sweets that I was spoiling you with despite our father’s scolding looks. It was always our secret how many cakes you ate,” you reminded him and Aegon grinned at you.

“This is my sister!” He pointed his finger at you after turning around to face his council. “My sister who has burnt Rhaenyra’s army for me. Her loyalty shall not be questioned,” he announced and walked away to sit on his chair again.

You didn’t want to correct him that you hadn’t burnt anyone for him because it would be a political suicide to do so. You only cracked a smile at your husband. You didn’t expect the greeting to go so smoothly. Aegon seemed to be very desperate for any sort of attention or affection.

“Princess Elaena’s loyalty shall still be proven,” the tall young man without one eye smirked at you. That had to be your brother Aemond, whom you hadn’t met.

You sighed and rolled your eyes at that. Each side had their Daemon, apparently.

“I will be proving my loyalty to The King, brother. I do not owe you anything for we are equals,” you reminded him with a smirk, too.

Suddenly, Queen Alicent stood up and approached you to give you a warm hug. You hugged her back even though you were surprised by that welcome from her.

“We are happy to have you back,” she said and you spotted honesty alongside the sadness in her big, brown eyes. You nodded your head at her.

“My Queen,” you greeted her.

“Queen Dowager,” she fixed you. “Helaena is The Queen now. Do you remember her?”

“Of course,” you smiled at the image of tiny Helaena from your memories. “I would love to see her.”

“After the meeting,” Queen Alicent nodded and pointed at the empty chair for you. Gwayne stood behind you as if he was your sworn guard.

Well, as your Lord Husband, he was.

After the meeting of King Aegon’s council, you went to Queen Helaena’s chambers with Queen Alicent.

“Helaena, you have a guest,” her mother opened the doors gently. “It is your sister, Princess Elaena.”

After that introduction, you walked inside and bowed your head in front of your younger sister. She was standing by the window and turned her head around as her eyes widened at the sight of you.

“An oath-breaker,” she greeted you in a mysterious way that made a chill go down your spine. “You bring death and destruction.”

You had no idea how to answer that and you looked at Alicent, searching for some sort of explanation but she only blushed and looked down, uncomfortably.

“Our Queen often speaks in riddles,” she told you.

“No, your majesty,” you shook your head, “I do know very well what our Queen means.”

MASTERLIST

#gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne hightower x oc #targaryen oc #lilysfiction

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readychilledwine · 1 year ago

Text

Surprises

Summary - Azriel has been itching to touch his High Lady for a long time. (Azriel x Tamlin's sister OC x Rhysand)

Warnings - NSFW - minors DNI, porn with little plot, oral (male and female receiving), shadow play, wing play, over stimulation, anal play, dirty talk, Rhys being a slight pleasure dom.

A/n - so I *may* have forgot there is a character named Briar in the series already, but figured with allowing the Tamlin x Elain crackship (which I'm not overly a fan of but can see Elain so happy in spring and allowed it for this) I might get forgiven. There's potential for this to have a fairly um plot lacking part 2. Just let me know what you think.

Part 2

✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

If Briar died now, she'd die happy.

Rhys currently had his head buried in her cunt, eating her like a man starved while she begged and pleaded to cum.

She caught the peonies in the vase out of the corner of her eye. They were blooming rapidly as her pleasure took over. My little Springling still can't control her flowers when I'm playing with this pretty pussy, can she?

Her only response to her mate was a loud whimper as he sucked and licked her clit, eyes never leaving hers as she leaned up on her elbows to watch.

400 years, and I will never tire of the taste of you on my tongue. He pushed two fingers into her, making her cry out his name. So tight and wet. Is this all for me, Briar?

"Yes, daddy. It's always for you. I'm yours." The high lord moaned around her swollen and abused clit at the words. She'd already came twice for him, but he wanted more. He wanted her begging him to stop. He got off on the tears she'd cry from over stimulation and edging, and he wanted those big tears tonight. He wanted her so far gone she could only cry. Say the word and we stop.

"Yes daddy," she sighed softly before leaning back down. Moaning loudly as he continued sucking, licking, and finger fucking her to another orgasm.

This third one was always the hardest to get from her, but once it happened, she'd be putty for him. And that thought alone as he pushed against the spongy part of her core that made her see stars .Rhys got off on Briar's pleasure. He ate her pussy because it pleased HIM to watch her squirm. To watch her beg. To watch her Spring Court magic unleash itself on the flowers he kept in the room for that exact purpose. They bloomed beautifully as she reached her peak, and based on the twitching and clenching of her walls, the sound of his name falling from her lips like a prayer, the way the peonies had fully opened, and her thoughts of nothing but Rhys wrecking her, she was almost there.

And then a knock came on the door, making them stop and Rhysand growl loudly. The knock was followed by the sound of a deep cold voice, "Rhys, I'm really sorry, but the other high lords are here. In the townhouse. Like right now. They're all here. With their parties. They're all in the great hall you added on. They've agreed to your meeting, but want to do it on their terms. Feyre, Cass, and Lu are doing the best they can to entertain them."

Briar whimpered in frustration due to Rhysand stopping. He shot her a look, Do not whine like a brat, or I will not let you suck my dick for a week. Her lip trembled at the thought.

He kept his fingers pumping in and out of her, curling and hitting the perfect spot before adding his thumb to circle gently around her clit. He could smell Azriel's arousal when Briar moaned again and smirked slightly. He knocked gently on Azriel's shields, his brother allowing him in instantly. She's been thinking about it more and more, Azriel. Maybe she just needs the right surprise and motivation.

Rhys watched her arch her back before verbally responding, "When did they get here? Is my wonderful brother in law here as well?"

Azriel was about to undo his belt, and take care of the problem listening to Briar's cries was creating, but stopped himself. She was his high lady, his best friend. He would not do this, "Lucien's message came to the House of Wind maybe 10 minutes ago. You warded the house so heavily I had to fly in since you did not answer when any of us called. Yes, Tamlin is here."

Rhysand's smile went feral, "Give me 5 minutes, Azriel. The High Lady is almost done. Feel free to come watch."

Azriel was surprised, but never one one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He opened the door immediately and went to the chair at the desk across from the bed.

Briar's long blonde curls were around her like a golden halo. Her back arched as Rhys began eating her out again. Her panting was rapid and heavy, her breasts bouncing lightly as she lowered her back to bed. She felt like her skin was on fire under Azriel's watchful gaze. He was memorizing every dip and curve of her, a hand resting under his chin as a soft smirk played on his face.

Do you want him to touch you baby? Briar whined and nodded. She felt Rhys chuckle softly into her clit purposely making her moan again. Call for your spymaster, little mate.

"Azriel," hazel eyes met green as Briar held her hand out to the shadowsinger, "Please. Need you." He blinked a her, a single dark brow arching as if to challenge her. "Az, please. So close. Need you."

He moved slowly at first until Rhys came into his head. She wants you to touch her Azriel. Would you rather taste her or have her taste you?

Cauldron boil me Rhys. You know what I'm going to pick. And the high lord did, he pulled off and out of Briar making her sigh sadly again but not whine as she watched her husband crawl up her body.

"You're going to get on your hands and knees. You're going to sit that delicious cunt on Azriel's face. And you're going to suck my cock like a good little girl. Am I understood?"

"Yes daddy." The three of them moved in sync and Azriel growled the second he had Briar in tasting distance.

She was dripping, new heat hitting her core at how taboo this was. "Sit on my face, Briar." Rhysand gently pushed her shoulders lowering his mate on to Azriel's waiting mouth and tongue.

The groan of pleasure that left Azriel the second her essence hit his tongue made Briar cry out loudly. Immediately, Azriel had his tongue buried inside of her walls, teeth gently grazing her swollen nerves. Rhys pulled his cock from his boxers and tapped the head on Briar's lips. "Open now."

She parted her lips, immediately coming to lick off his precum. We must be quick, my love. We can't have them waiting too long.

If he keeps doing whatever he's doing down there, I'll be done in seconds. Rhys laughed darkly and relayed the message to Azriel as he brought his wife's hair into a make shift ponytail and began slowly fucking her mouth. He groaned softly as shadows began playing with Briar's nipples. "Such a spoiled girl." Rhys thrusted harshly into her mouth making her gag.

Azriel smirked from below her and doubled down on his efforts, Briar was constantly moaning around Rhysand as he forced her to deep throat him, his eyes shutting, head thrown back in pleasure as she gagged and swallowed around him. Azriel began to tease her other puckered hole with his shadows. The second she started grinding her hips, moaning around Rhysand's cock, he asked his brother, Can I?

Fuck her like a whore, Az. Give her a little taste of what this would be like. Azriel commanded the shadow, it pushed into Briar's ass and began gently fucking her while Azriel continued eating her cunt. It was dripping consistently now, and he was drinking every ounce he could, his tongue licking her inner walls. He undid his leather bottoms, pulling out his own cock and fisting it in time with his tongue in her cunt.

Rhysand looked down at Briar from his long lashed. Her eyes were brimmed with tears, her face red as she choked on his member, lips swollen with saliva falling on her chin. She was moaning around him like a well trained whore, and below her?

Below her was one of his favorite sights in the world, Azriel eyes shut in bliss, cock in his hand, he was practically drowning in Briar's juices. His wings flaring with joy, shadows circling her perfect body. Rhys has wanted to watch the two of them for a century now. But Gods his brother and her moaning together was almost too much.

He could tell she felt guilty though. Guilty Az was not being stimulated since she couldn't see behind her. Her fingers twitched before slowly reaching down. She found the hard ridge of his massive wings and ran the backs of her fingers on it. Azriel and Rhysand both groaned at the sight. The scarred hands tightening down on her thighs while her husband's pulled her hair tighter.

Is this okay? She knew their wings were precious. She would never want to violate Azriel.

"He wants you to play with him, my spider lily. Keep going. Show him how good you want him to feel." Rhysand's voice was breathy. She could tell by his twitching cock, the sloppy thrusts, and the vile things leaving his mouth he was close.

And so was she. She continued moan from Azriel's thick tongue and skilled mouth pulling her apart while his shadow fucked her rarely used hole. Dragging deliciously inside of her and making the efforts of Azriel's tongue feel doubled.

Azriel was moaning from her fingers gently massaging the sensitive parts of his wings, and from her pleasure. He was close. He would have came just from getting to watch Rhys and Briar. This was a surprise he had not been expecting, though, and he knew he would not last long.

Rhys moaned, whispering the dirtiest things as he continued roughly fucking the Daughter of Spring's throat. He could have died a happy male, right here, right now. Watching his wife struggle with all three of her holes filled, watching Azriel's hips buck his cock further into his hand as she played with his wing, then she touched Rhysand's wing, and he knew. He knew he was in for the end game. Make daddy cum, Briar. You know the spot.

Briar found the spot she wanted on Azriel first. It was the same spot she was now reaching for on Rhysand's own left wing. The second she tapped it on both of the wings, the males fell over the edge. Rhysand shoved her head fully onto his cock, coming undone deep down her throat. Whispering her name over and over as she swallowed his seed and never broke eye contact with him. Briar moaned, swallowing the salty liquid. She continued giving Rhys soft sucks in time with his hips twitching.

Azriel growled and whimpered from his high into Briar's cunt before latching directly onto his high lady's clit to make her fall over the edge as he came on his hand and leathers. "Cum for him Briar." It was her high lord, mate, and husband's command that finally gave her the ability to cum on Azriel's waiting tongue. Rhys pulled out of her mouth allowing Azriel to hear her soft cries of his name name he allowed her to grind her hips on his face.

"Azriel! Fuck! Gods yes!" Rhys caught Briar as her body gave out, finally falling too far over the edge of bliss. Her legs were shaking around Azriel's head as he held her thighs in place and worked her body through her high, allowing her inner walls to twitch on his tongue and greedily lapping each drop of her juices down. Rhys was in her ear, praising her as he held her chin and watched her eyes as she fell into an over stimulated haze.

He finally picked her up, allowing Azriel to sit up. "What do you say, Briar?"

Her cock drunk eyes hit Azriel as she smiled softly, "Thank you."

He nodded, "Anything for my high lady. I'm going to change and let them know you're on the way." With that sentence he was gone, Rhys giving him a scent shield so no one would know what just happened.

He snapped a true night court dress on Briar. It was a thin black gossamer with hand sewn gems making it look as though she was covered in stars. Her body was mostly exposed. Everyone would see the marks he had already left on her. He fixed her golden crown before snapping clothing on himself. He leaned down kissing his wife and mate deeply waiting for Azriel to give the okay.

They're all seated and ready whenever you are.

Winnowing now. Rhys pulled Briar to him, smirking at her flushed freckled cheeks, her wide doe eyes pleading for more. The next several hours would have to be mental stimulation, teasing touches. A big built up, he had decided, until the two of them were alone again, hopefully with a spymaster in tow.

He winnowed them directly into the town house and pulled away from her when they hit their destination. He led her into the hall by the small of her back. The inner circle all stood next to two empty chairs. Lucien took one look at Briar and had to school his reaction before sneakily giving Rhys a thumbs up.

"How nice of you all to join us here," Rhys faked the pleasantries as he greeted them all. "I'm sure my mate will forgive all of you for ruining the evening we had planned for our anniversary. Come, Briar Darling." They moved to sit. Taking the long way to their side.

The room was silent. Tamlin's face had gone red as soon as the scent of his sister and Rhysand hit him, Elain giggled in the seat next to him. Helion was holding back laughter as he looked at the cock dazed high lady. Kallias and Viv had their mouths covered, eyes sparkling with glee. Rhys sat her in the chair meant for her before kneeling down in front of her.

"Briar Darling, are you with us?" Briar just sighed softly and kissed Rhysand making the Lord of Autumn scoff and Eris smirk. "Wonderful. That means my influential cock and I had almost gotten to do my job." A few laughs filled the room as Rhys winked to Beron.

He tapped into Azriel's mind, And that you did yours wonderfully brother. Come back tonight so we can finish what we started.

Azriel's wings fluttered in joy as Briar smiled softly at him. To the outside world, it appeared the High Lady was just acknowling her known sworn sword, but Azriel and Rhys knew what she was thinking as Rhysand poured in filthy inner thoughts into Azriel's mind. With pleasure brother.

Rhysand moved into his own seat, his mate curling her legs into the chair and snaking an arm around his as she leaned into his shoulder. He leaned back, joking behavior gone as he put a hand on Briar's exposed leg, and stroked her outer thigh gently, "Welcome to my townhome, and welcome to Velaris, the City of Starlight. It is the gem of the Night Court. I would have prepared a tour and meal at one of Briar's favorite places to take newcomers had we known you all were coming, but we will make do with what we have." Lucien handed him the paperwork Rhysand had drafted for this meeting. "Shall we get started?"

#acotar #acotar x reader #rhys x reader #azriel acotar #rhysand x reader #azriel #azriel x reader #rhys acotar #rhysxocxaz #polybatboys x oc

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enha-roza · 1 month ago

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FIRST TIME // SUNGHOON

Sunghoon x 8thmember!oc

warnings : smut kinda no plot, nicknames (princess, baby, pretty, slut..), big dick Sunghoon, oral sex, a little angsty but fluffy by the end. continuation of first kisses

wc : 1.4k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･

Sunghoon was very possessive, so when he found out the other members had all kissed Roza before him, he was a little jealous. “You kissed all of them before me!”. “Not like I planned it, it just happened!”. The two were yelling back and forth after the other members went out to eat. Sunghoon getting worked up, accused her of purposely leaving him out. “Well you could have been a little more considerate!”. “Ughh, you only think about yourself! This whole four boyfriends thing is hard okay!”. Tears welling up in her eyes. “I constantly feel like I'm not enough. I find it hard to distribute my attention across all four of you… I feel like I can't do it…”.

Sunghoon froze, now realizing how his words had affected her. More tears fell as she turned away from him, ashamed to cry in this moment. His arms wrapped around her, head leaning down to whisper in her hair. “I'm sorry for yelling at you, I didn't mean it. I know that's not an excuse, I got frustrated and took it out on you”. Roza’s sniffles quieted as she calmed her breathing. Turning around she looked Sunghoon in the eyes, seeing his regret. He reached up cupping her face, wiping her tears with his thumb.

Wrapping her arms around his neck as she spoke. “It's okay… this is new for all of us… it's gonna take time for us to get used to it”. Sunghoon's heart pounded in his chest at her words. “You're too kind, you know?”. “You think?”. “Yeah…” his eyes staring down at her lips. “Can i?”. “Yes please…” she whispered, pulling him in to kiss her.

Finally Sunghoon tastes her lips as he pushes her against the wall behind them. Their lips rushing as heat rises quickly. Sunghoon grunts as he pushes his tongue past Roza’s lips. Roza very happily accepts his advances. “God, I can't believe you made me wait for this”. “Shut up and kiss me”. Sunghoon didn't need to be told twice before diving in again, capturing her plump lips in between his own.

Sunghoon leans his head down as he kisses down her jaw and neck. Roza moans and he bites into her neck before his tongue runs over the mark to soothe the pain. “Aren't you adorable… moaning and whining all for me”. She nods her head. Sunghoon grabs her chin before whispering. “Say it… say who's making you feel like this”. “You… you are Sunghoon Oppa…”. He smirks showing his fangs. Feeling himself get hard at her words, he leans in, needing her lips on his again.

Slowly walking til the back of her legs hit the edge of Sunghoons bed. Watching his eyes as they gloss over looking down at her. “You really wanna do this?”. “Please… I need it Oppa”. Sunghoon smirks, happy to see his princess weak for him. “Good because I don't think I can hold back any longer”. Pushing her to lay back on his bed, Sunghoon fits between her legs as he continues their make out. Once again leaving kisses down her neck as goes lower and lower. Settling at her thighs, he pushes her skirt up leaving small kisses and hickeys all over. “Look how pretty…” His fingers brushing over the marks in adoration.

Sliding his finger over her pantie covered clit, just slow enough to tease her. “Mmm, more… I need more!”. “Yeah pretty? want me… tell me, where do you want me?” She sighs as Sunghoon applies more pressure. “In me! Need you in me!”. His fingers pull her panties to the side, teasing her clit as he slowly slides in two middle fingers in.

Moans leave Roza’s lips as Sunghoon pushes his fingers in fully, pulling back out to do it all over again. His eyes rack over her body, so prettily laid out, head thrown back as the prettiest sounds leave her lips. “You're so good for me princess”. The nickname making her clench around his fingers. “You like that name, don't you… princess knows how to make me smile”. His smirk widening as she whines out at his words.

He slides her panties off and pulls her top up past her tit. His fingers slid in and out faster and harder and he pulls her tits out of her bra bringing his lips to suck on her nipple. Her hands automatically go to his hair pulling as she moans, all the pleasure taking her over. “I'm close… a little more” Her voice straining as the constant whines get higher and higher.

Sunghoon could feel her clenching around him tighter and tighter, she was close. His head dips down as his tongue runs over her clit. “Ahhhh, right there!”. His fingers dip deeper as he brings her to her climax. His tongue collects all her cum as she tries pushing his head away from overstimulation.

“Want me baby?”. She nods. “No, you're words princess. Let me hear you”. “Need you now… please! Need more!”. “Say it again, you got to beg for it baby”. Roza begins to beg and whine for his cock, coming down from her high. “Please- please Oppa… need you now! I can take it, please!”. Sunghoon, feeling his pants tighten even more, can't help but give in. “yeah, need me… of course you do”.

Pulling down his pants, Roza’s eyes on his huge bulge. “Like what you see?”. She nods her head, mouth watering just at the sight of him. “Why don't you help me out? Need a little attention myself”. Roza quickly gets to her knees, pulling down his underwear. Grabbing him at his base, then bringing her hand to his tip, smearing his precum.

“Hurry up princess, wanna have my fun with you before the others get back”. She quickly does as he says, not wanting the other to walk in on them. Her tongue poking out, leaving kitten licks all over his veiny cock. Sunghoon’s hand glides into her hair, grabbing a handful to push her head down. Roza allows him to push her head down half way, before pulling her back up his cock.

“You like when I pull your hair? You slut… know how to please me…” softs grunts in between words as he pushes her all the way, making her gag. “Good girl... taking all of me". He groans as he continues to push her down his cock. "A little more princess, I'm so close”. Roza determined to please him, breathes though her nose and let's him face fuck her until he’s pulling her off cumming right on her lips.

Her tongue licks his sweet cum off before swallowing and showing her empty mouth. “How good you are… lay back down princess, need to be in you bad”. She didn't need to be told again, quickly laying on her back as Sunghoon went and got a condom. Coming back, he slips it on before teasing her entrance. “Hmmm, please. Don't tease me”. “Why shouldn't i? You sound so pretty”.

Right as she goes to beg once more, she gets interrupted by Sunghoon pushing his tip in. Slowly pushing in fully and groaning as she tightens around him. "you okay?" Sunghoon groans as Roza closes her eyes feeling the stretch. “ahhhh, so good… more!” Sunghoon can't help but deny her any longer. Moans fill the room as Sunghoon slowly gets faster and faster. Looking down Sunghoon sees the bulge in her stomach, running his hand over it, eyebrows coming together as he feels his cock pulse. "too big!". "you can take it...". The burn feels so good as Roza holds on to the bed sheets for her life.

Sunghoon's head leans down forehead touching Roza's. "you look so pretty...". A whine leaves her lips in response. "feel good baby?". "yeahhh... so good!". Sunghoon's cheeks hurt as he smiles down at his princess all worked up because of him. “So good! Ughmmm”. Sunghoon, peppering more kisses up her neck and jaw before kissing her on her lips. Pulling back up, his hands grab her waist as he pounds into her, leaving bruises. Roza’s eyes fighting to stay open as her head leans back in pleasure.

“Keep your eyes on me baby” Sunghoon grunted as he grabbed her chin. “Wanna see you fall apart on my cock” She moans as her high approaches, eyes half lidded as they look into Sunghoon’s. His hand reaches down to play with her clit, bringing more noise out of her lips as she cums. Sunghoon's following suit cumming into the condom as she clench's around him, a low groan slipping out as he comes down from his high.

“Fuck… that was so good”. “Mmm”. “can't talk baby? Fuck you that good?”. Roza closes her eyes, nodding as she hides her face behind her hands. “Don't hide from me! You look so good like this… you're glowing”. Both pulled out of their sentimental moment when Sunghoon’s phone dings. “Shit, what's the time?”. “Fuck they'll be back soon”. Sunghoon quickly picks Roza up bridal style and takes her to the shower to clean off.

Both helping clean each other off, letting the warm water run over them. They held each other as they relaxed after a stressful day. “They will be back any minute, so I'm gonna clean my room. Don't want them suspecting anything”. Roza smiled as Sunghoon leaned down getting another kiss from her before getting out. Roza smiled to herself, having her first time with Sunghoon was not how she expected her day to go. But nonetheless she was happy.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･

a/n : really happy with how this turned out. am planning to do first times for the other hyung line members, so stay tuned!! xoxo

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ninii-winchester · 4 months ago

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Unveiled Sorrows (Part 5)

Pairings : Dean Winchester X Reader, Sam Winchester X Reader (platonic), Dean Winchester x Lisa Braden (mentioned)

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: heavy angst, spoilers s1-s6, mentions of violence, foul language, brief mentions of pregnancy and childbirth.(no details).

A/n : This series follows canon plot line but some scenes might happen differently or be completely changed. Check the warnings for each part before continuing

A/n: For the purpose of this series, Sam came back with his soul. Gemma and Will Campbell are OCs.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

Bobby watched Dean drive away. He never imagined he'd do something like that. He turned to see y/n on the ground.

"No...no Sammy. Come back." She dug her fingers into the ground. "Please." She sobbed as she continued digging as if the cage would still be under the ground. She hoped by some miracle it would open up and give her best friend back.

"Y/n let go." Bobby tried prying her hands off the ground. "Let go God dammit your fingers are bleeding." He jerked her body upwards and dragged her off to his truck. He made her sit inside and grabbed her stuff from her car. He got into the driver's seat, and took off. After an hour of driving she calmed down.

"Hey! How come you're walking again? I mean not that it's bad but I'm curious." Y/n asked Bobby.

"I sold my soul to Crowley to find Death. He said he could give me anything so he gave me my legs back too."

"Crowley the demon? Gave you your legs back?"

"Strange world we live in." Bobby shrugged. Y/n give him a look. "What?"

"Are you stupid?"

"Excuse me?"

"You sold your soul to a demon? You're gonna have your ass dragged to hell you know that?"

"He said he's borrowing it."

"Wow Bobby, he said and you believed. Thats a demon. You can't trust demons." Bobby didn't say anything after that. Halfway through the drive Y/n called out Bobby's name. He glanced at her urging her to go on.

"I'm pregnant." She said making Bobby hit the brakes abruptly.

"Come again?"

"I'm pregnant."

"What?" He was shocked to the core at the revelation. She only stared ahead not looking him in the eye. "What the hell were you thinking confronting Lucifer? Are you mad? Did you have no regard for your life or that child's?" Bobby yelled as he started to drive again.

"I'm sorry I just couldn't sit back and watch." She whispered.

"Did you three plan this scheme 'kill Bobby of a heart attack'." He sighed and then he paused. "Who's the father?" He asked.

"Dean." She looked out of the window as the scenery passed.

"Figures. Did you tell him?" She shook her head 'no'. "Will you tell him?"

"Do you really think he wants anything to do with me after the way he left?" She snapped. Bobby stayed silent.

"I'm taking you to a hospital, we need to get you checked." Y/n nodded.

The two of them made their way back home after a long drive and a pit stop at the doctors. She was fine and the baby was healthy too. They gave her some prescription and told her to rest. Bobby had told her she'd be staying with him from now on and he won't take no for an answer. He cared for the three of them like their own. Now with Sam being dead and Dean being God knows where he'd like to keep her here safe. Ever more now that she's pregnant.

"I'm telling you, you should tell Dean. He deserves to know."

"Dean didn't give two shits before walking away from us Bobby, we've known him for years. Do you think he'd care for a bastard child like that?" Y/n retorted.

"Watch your language, young lady. That's my grandchild you're talking about." Bobby scolded her. Ofcourse he thinks of Y/n as the daughter her never had.

"Well news flash Bobby this ain't no love child." Bobby rolled his eyes at her comment.

"I'm sure he'd-"

"You know what actually? I'm sure he would want to know but I don't want to tell him. Walking out was his decision and not telling him about this is my decision." Y/n said walking away.

It had been two months since Sam died and Dean left. Y/n still mourned Sam's death and she missed him dearly. She wondered how he'd react to the news of her being pregnant. She's at five months now. She was in the main room cleaning and refilling her guns. Just because she's not allowed to hunt for the time being doesn't mean she won't be cautious.

She heard a knock on the door and she knew Bobby wasn't supposed to be back until later. She grabbed her gun and stuffed it in the back of her jeans. She grabbed her shotgun and went to the door. When she opened the door, her jaw hit floor. She couldn't believe her eyes. There stood Sam Winchester in the flesh.

"Y/n." He breathed out and she pointed the shot gun at his chest. "It's me, Sam."

"Not you're not. Sam's dead."

"I know I died Y/n but I'm back."

"That's not possible. Who brought you back? Was it Dean?" It pained her to say his name but now's not the time to think about that.

"I don't know what or who brought me back but I'm willing to go to every test." He raised his hands in surrender.

"Alright." And with that she shot him.

"Ow son of a bitch. That hurt Y/n." He complained.

"It was just rock salt, don't be a bitch."

"Jerk." Sam replied and for second her guard dropped. Still pointing the gun at him she grabbed a silver knife from her back pocket and threw it at him. He caught it and sliced his arm, he showed her as the blood trickled down his arm. She then grabbed the holy water and threw it at his face.

"A little warning would've been appreciated." Sam sassed as he wiped the water from his eyes. "Can I hug you now?"

She kept staring at his face. She grabbed his arm and dragged him to main room and made him stand under the devils trap. Sam looked up and then moved away from the trap. Before either of them could say anything Y/n jumped up and wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her back and he felt something different about Y/n as he hugged her.

"How did this happen, Sammy?" She asked as they pulled away.

"Uh i don't know." He replied looking at her oddly. Y/n was thankful that she was wearing one of Sam's shirts, it was huge on her so her body was completely covered. Not that she had huge bump but still whatever she had, it was covered.

"How long have you been back?"

"Two months?"

"TWO MONTHS? SAM WINCHESTER YOUVE BEEN BACK FOR TWO MONTHS???" She exclaimed loudly. "Where have you been for the past two months?"

"Yeah I've been researching, I needed to know how I came back and uh I went to see Dean." He explained.

"You met Dean? Why's he not here?" She shouldn't care but she did.

"I didn't meet him. I just saw him." Sam replied.

"What do you mean? Why didn't you meet him? Where is he?"

"He is living with Lisa and Ben. He uh... he looked normal, he's living the apple pie life he always wanted and I couldn't go up there and take it all away from him." Sam told her with a sad smile. They both knew Dean would drop anything for his brother.

Y/n knew Lisa, she's met her once when they helped her get her son, Ben, back. Lisa was in Dean's life way before Y/n was. That was his only serious long term relationship she's ever known of. Lisa is a wonderful woman and it made sense why he left Y/n for someone like her.

"Was he...did he seem happy?" She had to ask.

"The happiest I've ever seen him. I didn't have it in me to go ahead and ruin everything. He looked so happy but I knew if I went in there he'd leave all of it to be back in hunting. I couldn't do that to him." Sam told her honestly.

"I agree."

"Where's Bobby?" Sam asked and the man in question entered the house and gasped at the sight in front of him. He grabbed the shot gun by the stairs and aimed at Sam. "Aw dammit not again."

"It's alright Bobby i checked. I did all the tests." Y/n intervened. The older man lowered his gun.

"Tell me something only Sam Winchester would know!" He demanded.

"A month before I fell, you lost your years to a witch in poker and then Dean lost to get your years back which made him old. But then I won back Dean's years and he turned back to normal." Sam narrated.

"What? When did that happen?" Y/n giggled as Bobby pulled Sam in a hug.

"When Bobby came to help us with the witch. You stayed back when we last hit the road." Sam replied.

"Oh I remember that, but you didn't tell me Dean got old." She laughed.

"Dean told me not to." Sam replied.

"Did you tell him?" Bobby asked Y/n and her eyes widened.

"Tell me what?" Sam asked warily.

"Uh look at that would ya? It's time for lunch. Why don't you wash up Bobby I'll set the table. You must be hungry too Sam." She said walking into the kitchen as Bobby went to freshen up. Sam followed her into the kitchen and she brush past him.

"Tell me what Y/n?"

"Would you like a beer, Sammy?" She pulled out a bottle and passed it to him. He banged his hand against the table gaining her attention.

"Tell me what?"

"I'm pregnant. It's Dean's." Y/n said calmly. The beer bottle slipped from his hands onto floor and shattering into a million pieces.

"What?" He asked completely in shock. Y/n pulled her shirt up a bit and it showed her bump. Sam stared at in utter disbelief. "I had no idea you and him? You and Dean you...?" He stuttered.

"It happened one night. It was a mistake." She lied. Ofcourse it wasn't one night and it wasn't a mistake either. But what can she even tell him.

"Does he know? Did you tell him?"

"No." She replied as she continued to set the food on the table.

"Why? Why wouldn't you tell him? he wanted a family for as long as i can remember."

"And he has a family. With Lisa. And Ben. I'm a hunter Sam, he can't have that white picket fence life with me which has with them. Don't you think he should live with the woman he loves and not with some good lay and a bastard child?" She snapped.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to say that word?" Bobby glared at Y/n as he entered the kitchen.

"What? That's your summoning? I say bastard child and you appear out of thin air?" Y/n replied sarcastically.

"You watch how you speak to me." Bobby's glare deepened.

"You can't kick me out. I'm carrying your grandchild." She stuck her tongue out the man she's come to love, as her father, over the years.

"I can when it's born."

"You wouldn't." She rolled her eyes.

"Are you two done? Because i would like to rewind to the part where you called yourself 'some good lay'." Sam sighed.

"What? You want me to say I was bad?" She joked.

"How are you not affected by all this? Stop acting like it doesn't bother you." Sam bellowed. He knew it must've been killing her inside.

"It doesn't bother me Sam."

"You have to tell Dean." He pressed on.

"I will not and if you did, I will shoot you. Not with a shot gun filled with rock salt but I'll put an actual bullet through you. And this is not an empty threat."

"I know things weren't good the last time we were here, he said things, he was stressed -"

"No Sam. It has nothing to do with what happened the last time."

"What is it then?"

"He left." Bobby said. "After you fell, he drove off leaving me and her behind. He didn't look back and we haven't heard from him since." He said solemnly looking at Y/n.

"I won't tell him. I promise." Sam said to y/n and She nodded. Sam felt a pang of guilt hit him. He remembered the talk he had with hin on their drive to Detroit. If only he hadn't made Dean promise to not find Y/n and go back to Lisa, things would've been different. Dean would've been here with his child and Y/n wouldn't have to go through this all alone. If only he had known. But how could've he known.

"Sam? You zoned out.!" Y/n called out.

"Yeah uhm I'm fine just too much to take in." Y/n nodded in agreement and Sam filled the two of them about the past two months. How his grandfather Samuel is also back from the dead. And he's been staying with him distant maternal cousins for the past two months.

Sam introduced Y/n to Samuel and his family. They've been getting along fine and Sam's back to hunting with the Campbells.

Three months later Y/n gave birth to Adeline Mary Winchester. No-one other than Bobby and Sam knew who the was the father of Adeline. Adeline was the cutest baby Sam had ever seen and much to Y/n's dismay, she looked exactly like her father. She had bright green eyes and dirty blonde hair. She had freckles all over her cheeks and nose just like Dean's. She reminded her too much of Dean.

"She looks exactly like Dean, no offence y/n." Sam said as he cradled his niece.

"None taken, Sammy. I know she looks like him." He placed her in her arms gently. "Hi there sweetheart." Y/n cooed at her daughter. "Isn't she adorable?"

"She's lovely." Sam commented. "I wish Dean was here." She wished too.

"But he's not."

"Because he doesn't know." Sam replied.

"I'd like to keep it that way. And we're not having this conversation again."

Y/n missed hunting. She'd been staying put and helping with research at Bobby's but she missed hunting. Neither of the men allowed her to go on hunts even if it was a basic salt and burn. Adeline had turned four months old three days ago. She was currently in Bobby's arms as she slept and Sam's on a hunt with Samuel.

The phone rang and Y/n answered it before it rang too much and woke up Addy.

"It's Gemma." She's one of Sam's distant cousins. Barely eighteen but a good hunter. "Me and Will are on a hunt and seems like we might need backup." Y/n relayed the information to Bobby hoping he'd let her go since there's no one else. The old man rolled his eyes and nodded. Y/n squealed with happiness and kissed his cheek.

"Thank you. Addy darling mommy's gonna be back before you know it." She kissed her daughter's cheek. "Don't bother the old man okay? I love you."

Y/n packed her stuff and drove her car to the town Gemma told her they would be in. It was dark when she left Sioux Falls and she arrived at the town at 4:20am. She met up with Gemma and Will. They decided they'd get those ambush the nest first thing in the morning. The three stayed in a motel room where Gemma took one bed and Y/n slept on the other. William was kind enough to give up on a bed and opt for the pullout couch instead. It had been a while since Y/n had been in a motel room.

It reminded her of Dean, how he would pull her in for a kiss every time Sam went out. Or how he would make her feel good when they shared a room. How he would make sweet passionate love to her and how the two of them created Adeline in a motel room. Then she felt bitter. He didn't make love to her, he had sex with her. If only he loved her like her told her, he would've never hurt her this bad. Or leave her alone by herself.

The morning came earlier than she expected and the three of them drove to the warehouse which was the supposed Vampire nest. There were nine vampires in total. Y/n hadn't felt this thrill in the past few months and she was thriving on it. Pumped up with adrenaline, she went in for the kill and ended up killing five on her own. All her frustration washing away with vampires' blood . Gemma and Will finished off the other four. The two rookies were impressed by her skills. The sun had set when they were with cleaning and disposing off the bodies. The three skipped town as soon as they cleaned up because a few of Gemma and Will's guns were at the motel, out in the open, the cleaning maid saw them and called the police.

They stopped two towns over to grab a few drinks. It was around nine pm. It had been a long time since y/n had alcohol. They went inside the bar and grabbed a table. Gemma and Will ordered beers but Y/n went for whiskey. She downed it one go and asked for another.

"Hey don't look at me like that, it's been a while i hunted or even drank." The two smirked and cheers to her. She decided to give Bobby a call and let him know that she'd be home in a few hours and asked if Addy was doing okay. To which he told that Sam's back and Addy has been with him since. She sighed in relief when she heard that.

"How's Addy?" Gemma asked.

"She's good. Sammy is back and she's with him right now." Y/n smiled thinking about her little girl. Her Dean jr.

The bar door opened and two men walked inside, one of the them was chattering too loudly which made Y/n look up and she wished she hadn't. She saw Dean walking in with a man she didn't recognise. She watched as Dean heard his friend's chatter with a smile on his face. He looked...normal. Just some guy you'd find at a bar on the weekend. He didn't look like Dean Winchester. The one she knew. She hoped he doesn't see her but has luck ever been on her side? He looked at her and their eyes met.

Dean stopped dead in his tracks as soon as his eyes landed on her. His heart felt like it would burst out of his chest. It's almost been an year since he last saw her but the mere sight of her was enough to make him fold. She looked just a beautiful as the day he left her. The day he broke her heart but ripped his own into pieces. She looked like he had gained some weight, but it suited her. And then his gaze dropped to her lips, those same lips that he used to kiss sore, the same lips let out those sinful noises when he made her feel good. Those lips, he'd give anything to feel against his own.

"Dean, are you okay?" Sid asked as he noticed Dean stop.

"Yeah man, I'm good." He said still looking at her. He knows he shouldn't, but he couldn't help himself before he spoke, "i think I saw someone from my high school, let's go say hi." He said walking towards her table.

"Sure." Sid followed behind him.

Y/n's heart rate picked up as he got closer, why is he walking towards us. Is going to act like he knows me? The sheer audacity of this man. Hasn't he broken me enough why..

"Hey.! Gracie Henderson, right?" Dean spoke as he reached their table. Gemma and Will turned to look up at him.

Damn you Dean. Fuck you. He had to strike a nerve there. That was their alias when they had to go undercover as a couple. It was always Y/n and Dean since Sam couldn't like a couple with Y/n. He just had to make everything awkward, so it was always Dean and Y/n. Gracie Henderson and her husband Troy Henderson.

Ofcourse he couldn't miss the chance to hurt me again. Y/n thought to herself.

"Huh?" Y/n feigned ignorance.

"You're Gracie right? We went to high school together." Dean said looking right at her.

"Sorry? I think you have the wrong person." Y/n spoke the alcohol in her system giving her the courage to speak to him. "I never went to high school and its Adeline."

"Alright my bad." Dean said, his friend mumbling a sorry before they went to sit at the table beside theirs. His friend went to order for them and he sat there eavesdropping the conversation happening at the table beside him.

"He definitely knows you. That was one of your aliases." Gemma said as soon as Dean left. Y/n shrugged in response ordering another drink. "Cmon y/n tell us why did you act like you didn't know him?"

"Because he's Dean Winchester." She practically sneered his name. Dean flinched at the way she said name.

"What really ? He's Dean?" Will spoke for the first time in awhile. Y/n nodded.

"Why didn't you tell him to join us?" Gemma asked and Will added a "yeah why not?"

"Are you two dumb? What part of his appearance says he's a hunter? He's not in the business anymore. And the guy that came with him? He screams 9 to 5. So what did you two expect me to invite him to our table and reminisce the time we went to a fucking high school to burn the body of his brother's friend and his friend's bully?" Y/n spoke agitatedly and the two nodded in understanding. She downed her drink.

"I can't believe i came here out for this. You two needed backup for nine vampires? You know Bobby doesn't let me go on hunts. I came out to hunt after almost a year and its some stupid fucking vampires." She sighed dramatically.

Dean perked up when he heard her say she hadn't hunted in almost an year. Is she out of the business too? What does she mean Bobby doesn't let her hunt.

"You haven't hunted in almost a year and still you took down five vampires on your own." Will sat there in total awe. "You're my new role model."

Sid had already came back but Dean's attention was still on y/n. He smiled when he heard she took down five vampires on her own, that's my girl. He thought to himself.

"You two kiddos did good too. I'm sorry I snapped, I'm a bit stressed." Y/n said.

"It's alright." Gemma smiled.

"I'll head out." Y/n said grabbing her jacket and threw a few bills to for her bills.

"You're driving back to Sioux Falls?" Will asked and she nodded. "Aren't you drunk?"

"I've only had three drinks."

"Yeah of whiskey." Gemma added.

"Trust me kiddo. It takes a lot more than that to get me drunk." She replied and Dean noticed a lingering sadness in her voice.

The love of his life has been through hell and back and she's still kicking it. He wishes he could just grab her and disappear from the surface of the earth. To keep her from harms way and keep her protected from all the sadness and hurt. He wish he could love her the way she deserves to be loved. He watched as she left the bar before yelling a "get home safe kiddos."

The first thing y/n did as she reached home was to see Adeline. It was around five in the morning when she reached home. She saw Sam in the kitchen eating cereal and looking at his computer while he held Adeline on his lap.

"Good morning." She said as she entered the kitchen.

"Look Addy, mommy's back." Sam said holding her up. The baby giggled as she saw her mother approaching her.

"There's my baby." She picked up Adeline in her arms. "Did you miss mommy?" She asked in baby voice and the little girl flailed her arms, excitedly tapping her mother's cheeks.

"How was your 'first' hunt?" Sam joked earning an eye roll.

"It was good, vamps nest." She said sitting beside him, pulling her hair away from Adeline who was gripping it too tightly.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked noticing the stress lines on his best friend's face.

"I'm fine, why'd you ask?"

"You have that look on your face." Sam replied gesturing to her face.

"What look?"

"That look when something is bothering you but you're too prideful to say."

"I don't have such look on my face." Y/n said bouncing Addy on her lap.

"Y/n." Sam stared at her. He knows it's only a matter of seconds before she's spilling the truth.

"I met Dean okay? No big deal." She sighed.

"What? You met Dean? How?" Y/n filled in him with everything that happened after the hunt.

"He looked like a common man, it was weird seeing him. And the audacity to walk up to me and say hi? He was lucky he was with someone or I would've bashed his face in the table." Y/n growled her hold tightening on Adeline.

"Maybe he missed you and he thought after seeing you again he could talk to you." Sam said hoping he could get her hate him a little less.

"Well he thought wrong." She said angrily making her way out of the kitchen.

"Do you want me to watch Addy while you rest?" Sam called out from behind her.

"I am very much capable of taking care of my daughter on my own." She snapped, she didn't mean she didn't need Sam's help, she always appreciated his existence. But at the moment her words had a different meaning. She wanted Sam to know that just because she met Dean doesn't mean she will let him be in Adeline's life.

Sam sighed as he watched her walk away. He most definitely understood the meaning behind her words. Y/n went to her room and laid Adeline on the bed. She kneeled beside the bed and looked at her daughter. Adeline wiggled amd giggled staring at her mother. Y/n couldn't help but let a few tears run down her cheek. She never wanted this to be her daughter's life, she didn't need her innocent baby to grow up around monsters, without her father being there to protect her.

"How I wish I could hate your father, Addy. I resent him for what he did to us but I still love him. How could I not when he has given me you." She whispered, her daughter stared up the her with her bright green eyes that reminded her so much of her lost love. She placed soft kisses on her chubby cheeks before putting her in her crib. Y/n sighed as she got into bed. Little did she know this was the last time she had a good night's sleep in a long time.

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @queensilber @deangirl96 @galway-girlatwork @hobby27

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answer2jeff · 10 months ago

Text

fixer-upper. // lip gallagher

lip x biker-girl!OC

warnings : public sex, oral (m!receiving), praise kink, light to rough hair-pulling, unestablished relationship, intense and obvious flirting, porn with plot and detail, mentions of smoking (tobacco), cursing, OC is just as full of herself as Lip, knows she's a bitch, kinda has a weird sense of possessiveness over him?? clunky and overly detailed writing with a journaling/diary style.

authors note : trying something a little different! using the first person POV with an original character. first time writing this way—still getting the hang of it <3 this is REALLY long...sorry.

song : beauty school.

disclaimer : you can picture the OC however you like! her name is really just used for aesthetic purposes. there isn't much description on her appearance other than the fact that her hair is long enough to put it in a ponytail. enjoy!

Great. Fucking great.

One of my tires is punctured. The visor in my helmet is cracked. My elbows are etched with surface level scratches and dried blood. And the engine cover of my bike has finally snapped off. I had it coming. It was an old piece of rusty junk from my cousins garage sale from 2012, anyway. But it had charm. I knew I was gonna miss that bike for the good couple of hours, possibly days, I would reluctantly end up leaving it in a repair shop down the street from my apartment.

I can hear the squelch of skin, the seal between my hot breath and sweaty skin breaking as lift my helmet from my head. I hope to feel a rush of cool air, but the humidity tells me to go fuck myself. I'm pulled over onto the curb. I can't totally remember how I got there; being in the middle of the street on a scorching summer day wearing denim shorts that chafe up my inner thighs and rub my skin until it is raw and red and unbearably itchy, was not my vision for today. My handlebars are loose. That would explain it.

If I just take it to Born Free Cycles, leave it overnight, and come back in the morning, I can act like this whole thing never happened, and I'm not horribly irresponsible.

40th West View Ave.

Oh. I'm close actually. Barely a block away. I should go there now. I can call Mikey and have him drop me and the bike off at the garage. I'll see that kid with the grown out buzz-cut and black motor grease on his knuckles that somehow always transfers and blots on his face. Specifically on his strong jaw and right before the peak of his hairline. I wonder if he notices. Maybe he doesn't clean it off because it gives him edge that he doesn't need. Like the nickname on his name tag on a black uniform hadn't given his thirst for trouble away already. And the circles under his eyes are almost the same shade of smudged charcoal grey.

I wonder if he notices.

—

"So the engine cover popped? Just—" he shrugs, looking up at me as if I can't understand him "clean off?"

The sunlight bleeds in through the open garage door. It shines behind Lip, casting a shadow that makes his face hard to see perfectly. But I know the look he's conveying. His eyebrows are raised but drawn slightly closer together, his teeth are gnawing at the inside of his cheek so he can stifle a smile and the laugh that will follow soon after, and his blinks remain slow. I try not to smile too. But I fail.

I've only been here about 3 times, really. The first time was to get handlebar grips from Eddie. That was when I saw Lip. I chose not to make any kind of move, but it ate at my insides until the second time. That time was with Mikey. I was preoccupied with the blue-eyed kid, propped up on a workbench and throwing mindless flirty implications at him while he took long drags from a cigarette, to remember why Mikey was even doing there and why he dragged me along with him. His laugh, the playful eye-roll after I complimented his sweat-laden blonde curls weighed down by heat humidity, told me he was on board.

But I wasn't done.

I knew this time I'd pounce for what was mine.

"Yeah," I breathe out, crossing my arms and peering down at him, "And I mighta' been redlining the RPM a little too much. Probably fried the fucking thing."

Lip nods, the corner of his mouth curling up just a bit. He beckons his hand toward himself, telling me to kneel down beside him to inspect the bike. "This things kinda old, huh?" He teases, turning his head to me and finally letting a real smile break. It warms something in me. I shrug. He glances at my white tank-top, covered in black stains of dirt and oil.

"It's not great, no. It's a piece of shit. But it's cute!" I play along with him, taking the hairband on my wrist and twisting my hair into a high ponytail. Lip huffs though his nose, shaking his head and laughing again.

The next couple of minutes are filled with him telling me things I already know. Things I was too exhausted to manage on my own, defeating the whole purpose of why I was here. Fuck the bike. I know what's wrong with the bike. I know it's an old piece of junk and it's barely salvageable. You should know why I'm here. And maybe you do. But you should do something about it.

Lip has this way of speaking to me that feels ridiculously sweet and overly 'cool.' I know it's just his cadence and his cockiness, but I like it. I like that he thinks it makes me swoon. Partially because he's right, but mostly because I've mastered hiding it. He doesn't see my heart pound or the rising heat in my abdomen when he cracks his knuckles or puts a hand on my shoulder and let's it travel down to the small of my back when I crouch down beside him to look at another motorcycle he's trying to save. I'm almost certain he convinces himself that my gestures are nothing more than a meaningless flirt. I simply find him attractive, as does everyone. Nothing more.

But he's got it all wrong.

He knows my intentions somewhat well enough to the point where he can't not flirt back, though. He knows I haven't stopped him from letting his eyes travel from mine to my lips whenever I speak. He likes that I let him light my cigarettes for me. But he doesn't know this isn't just for fun. I'm so hyper-aware that it isn't out of the kindness of his heart. And neither are his compliments and lame jokes he makes to impress me. He treats my attraction to him as fact, but my genuine interest as a possibility.

Again, he's wrong.

I can't wrap my head around how he could reciprocate my efforts without ever pushing the envelope and asking to exchange numbers, or if I had a boyfriend, or maybe he had one of his own. No, no. He'd tell me if he had a girlfriend. He is, above all else, loyal.

Lip's what I want. I meant when I said his hair looked nice. I meant when I gave him a 20-dollar gratuity and a peck on his cheek just for giving me a repair cost estimate on my shattered headlight. I smile any time he says my name: Maeve.

Hey Maeve, back so soon, huh?

Hand me that box, Maeve.

Y'alright, Maeve?

Yo, Maeve, wanna bum one?

Maeve, Maeve, Maeve.

—

"Think you'll be back tomorrow to pick it up? No rush, though. I can keep it 'till you're ready," Lip asks me, leaning against the wooden workbench littered with microfiber towels and tools. His swell arms are crossed to his chest. I nod, coating my fingertips with a thin film of spin while I fish out some cash from my beat up faux leather wallet.

"A-huh. Thanks," I hand him 6 twenties before glancing at the opening of his button-down uniform.

The corner of my mouth lifts itself into a knowing smirk, my hand on my hip as I shift my weight to it, making my chest stick out and my spine bend correspondingly. My lips hang open a measly centimeter apart before I draw the bottom one between my teeth. I watch him sort through the cash, biting down harder on the flesh of my lip when he freezes.

"Looks like you're a good 15 short," he barely mumbles, looking up at me through his eyelashes. His brows narrow down to me again. I click my tongue coyly. I step closer to him, my hand, with fingernails painted black, pushing the cash in his palms down and his arms down with it.

"About that..." I pause, tilting my head with a look of naivety and not bothering to push away the strand of hair that has fallen from my ponytail and over my eye. Instead, I wait and let Lip set the pile of cash down and draw the curtain of my hair open to reveal my face. My stomach twists on itself, and I can practically feel his chest rising and falling with every anxious breath in my own lungs.

I beg to whatever higher power lies above us in this garage that a kiss will work. Not that it usually doesn't, but my form isn't as confident as it typically would be. The guys I wrap around my finger aren't as driven as Lip is. And God, none of them are part of my tantalizing daydreams nearly as often as he is. I picture his rough hands exploring me, squeezing and rubbing over the valleys of my skin. I imagine his breath is hot with the taste of mint and cigarettes. Every part of me wants to know if my predictions are accurate. If he's the type to sink his teeth into my neck and shoulder blades just to apologize to the reddening skin with open-mouthed kisses. The anticipation kills me. It's enough to swallow me whole.

"...Maybe I can pay you back a different way?"

I barely whisper and Lip scoffs, glancing away from my gaze, scanning the area just for it to be completely empty. He comes back to me. His eyes go a little wider than before. Almost to say, 'oh shit, you're serious?' I stick my tongue between my teeth and tug on his uniform, feeling the fabric rub between my sweaty fingertips. My eyes watch Lip's adam's apple bob as he swallows a breath.

"Yeah?" He thumbs my bottom lip and pulls it down, his free hand traveling down to my hip and pulling me closer to him, "what were y'thinking, Maeve?"

"Mmmm," I hum while pressing my hand against his chest while the other cups his cheek, and I let the pad of my thumb graze over the grove of his defined cheekbones. "Dunno yet."

My teasing is much to Lip's dismay, but he handles it quite well. It's sobering to see a guy as seemingly self-involved and easily impressed play into my mind games. It only pushes me further, and he knows it. I crash my lips into his, my hands anchoring themselves on his shoulders for support. He sighs into me, a hand reaching down to hook a finger through the belt loop of my shorts and drag me closer to him. His hand cups my cheek and pulls me into his mouth to let his tongue slip past my own. And he tastes just as I expected. Minty, smoky, and mine. I practically grind my self onto him in complete desperation, feeling him harden under me. Every roll of his hips threatens to send me over the edge. And fuck, his muffled groans of pleasure against my mouth that ring in my ears are hypnotic. But even with his sturdy, growing buldge forcing the fabric of my shorts to press roughly on my clit, I need this to last.

Blissfully and ever so slowly.

I finally pull away to catch my breath, the buck of our waists slowing down. My head feels fuzzy and heat rises in my cheeks when I open my eyes to see how flushed Lip's face is. Even the tips of his ears have turned a little red. I smile, giggling like a teenager who just kissed her crush in a closet at a house party as a dare. He laughs back in a way that asks 'what are we even doing?'

"Thought you had a boyfriend."

I pause, my eyebrows knitted. I try to think of who he could possibly be referring to.

Ah.

"Who? Mikey?" I try not to laugh, looking around to the imaginary audience to check if they're really hearing this nonsense too, "ew, no. He's like my brother."

Lip lets out a breath of relief he almost didn't realize he'd been holding. It surprises me. Probably a lot more than it should. But hey, for the other 3 times I've been here, I kept asking myself why his flirting was just as intense as mine, but he never asked for my number or made a true move on me. To think that my friend had been unintentionally cockblocking me with his ridiculous height and horrid American traditional tattoos all over his arms, and it wasn't because the guy had a girlfriend...it's almost funny.

"Oh," he replies, his eyebrows raising. Now both of his hands rest at my hips.

"What? Is that why you left me hangin' when I did this?" I press a kiss against his cheek, my palm rubbing over his shoulder to pull a chuckle out of him.

"I guess so, yeah. Just didn't want him to kill me for getting to close t'you," he kisses my cheek, smiling again.

"Geez. Mikey wouldn't hurt a fucking fly. He just...looks scary. Plus, nobody tells me what to do."

"Noted. Glad to hear that, actually."

"Mikey is—" I pause, biting the inside of my cheek "a sweet guy."

"Uh-huh."

"Too sweet. And I hate the aftershave he uses. He's—he's entirely too much."

"Mm."

"Whatever. Shut up."

"Didn't say anything," he shrugs, trying and failing to act clueless.

Fuck. He's fucking glad. He's glad I don't have a stupid-waste-of-my-time-cockblocking-boyfriend on my hip who's constantly watching my every move and stopping me from giving all of myself to Lip. Hell, I'm glad too. Very glad. With one swift movement, I take matters into my own hands again. I undo every last plastic button on his uniform, snaking down his chest and abdomen. I latch onto his neck, biting the skin and sucking a bruising hickey. He shivers beneath me and wraps his hand around my ponytail, huffing breathless chuckles and slowly getting more and more frustrated with my agonizingly slow, torturing pace for foreplay.

I bend my knees to begin my descend to the ground, kissing down his torso. My hands travel down his sides. Lip gently lets go of my hair to lean back into the workbench, never letting his head reel back so he can carefully watch me tenderly adhere to his needs while anchoring his hands behind him for support. I giggle to myself, relishing in the affect I have on him.

Shit. This is risky. Screw it. Pretty girl without a boyfriend who tips in 20 dollar bills and blowjobs? How could I say no? No part of me wants to back out, Lip's mind races, his grip tightening on the wooden slab as he clenches his jaw.

I wonder if he's nervous. Or maybe he's done this time and time again: fucking a girl right in this garage. Possibly bent over this very work bench. Those girls must've been so easy. I can bet on my life that they were never as fun, never as wet, never as needy as me. This would be different. I wouldn't give him everything he wanted and more that quickly. A girl deserves to have her fun. She deserves to watch the overly confident guy she's fancied for weeks, who continues to play hard to get, squirm and writhe with every slight of hand she gives him.

And that's exactly what I'm doing.

"Y'having fun down there?" Lip chastises me, chuckling lightly to himself as he tilts his head down to get a better look at my face.

My kisses stop right above the waistband of his jogger pants. I look up at him pleadingly through my lashes, my eyes big with lust and cunning seduction. I pull the middle of the waistband down just so I can drag my tongue across the exposed skin just centimeters away from his cock. The curls of his happy trail tickle my chin, but the full body shiver and the shaky exhale of "fuck," as he tries to keep his composure, makes it so worth it. He finally shuts his eyes, head reeling back. I lick my lips and smile, cupping his groin before he can even think about looking back down and feeling the blood rush to his cock again. His twitching dick underneath my palm sends me sitting on my heel, ready to slowly rock my hips down into it to fill my desperate need for friction. My cotton panties are definitely soaked.

I can't waste any more time.

I remove my hand from his crotch and quickly pull his pants and his boxers down with them. They pool at his ankles, and his cock strains hard and leaking sticky, crystal clear pre-cum from the thick and aching tip. My mouth nearly drops. I admire every vein, letting my hand wrap around the base of his cock once I've spit into it as makeshift lubricant. I'm so lost that I don't even register Lip peering down at me, swallowing impatiently.

"My, you're so worked up, Lip. And I haven't even started." I don't bother to look up at him as I rub my hand up and down his shaft, worried his pretty face will distract me. But I can picture him perfectly.

"Fuck you," he huffs through a struggled laugh, covering his mouth as he groans in pleasure at the feeling of my hand squeezing his cock every once and a while as I slowly pump him up and down.

"Later," I retort. I bite down on my bottom lip, looking up at him again for permission. He nods, almost as if he's able to read my mind. My eyes shut and my stomach flutters. Soft lips cover the head, swirling my tongue over the slit. His tip leaves my mouth with a loud pop, and I lick a bold stripe along the thickets vein I can find.

"Jesus, fuck, Maeve!" He writhes, his breath hitched in his throat by me hollowing out my cheeks and taking nearly 3/4 of his total length into my mouth. Moans of pure bliss at the feeling of his cock enveloped by the wet warmth of my mouth echo through the garage. I fear he's too loud, but I decide not to care. Not now.

My hand pumps the rest of his cock that I don't fit into my mouth at the moment, while my free hand reaches for his. My eyes remain closed and my sucking maintains a steady pace as I bob my head up and down his cock. I grab his hand and set it on the top of my head, but he hesitates.

"W—you sure, Maeve? I don't wanna hurt you," he swallows, accidentally bucking his hips into my mouth and running his unoccupied hand through his sweaty curls. I detach myself from him, wiping the mixture of pre and spit from the corner of my mouth and finally looking up at him.

"You won't," I take a deep breath, "I won't let you. I'll tell you if 's too much, kay?"

"Okay. Maybe just—" he clears his throat "tap my leg 3 times? And I'll...uh—I'll let go? Yeah?" He looks beautiful. Flushed, bare, and oh so needy for my touch. I wish I could keep him like this forever. He's so compliant, so understanding. But part of me knows that once I let him do this, it'll show me the side of him I've really been praying to see.

I nod, smiling contently and feeling myself blush when he twirls his fingers around my ponytail again. He bends over just the smallest bit to cup my chin and smile back. The pad of his thumb grazes over my skin before he lets go. I take it as my sign to go back, pressing my hands against either of his thighs and feeling clit jump with excitement when Lip tugs at my hair the moment I take his cock into my mouth again. I bob my head up and down, my eyes rolling back when his tip hits the back of my throat. Tears prick at my waterline as I struggle not to cough.

I grow even more desperate. My hand dives into my shorts and I slide two of my fingers inside of me, unfortunately never living up to the potential size and feeling of Lip's. The continuous ram into my gummy and tender spot causes me to fall apart, whining with his dick occupying the space in my mouth.

"Oh my God," Lip nearly whines, his grip tightening as he guides my head up and down his dick, but it's so gentle it never startles me, "so fuckin' good, baby. Jesus, fu—ah..keep doin' that. Yes, fuck.."

My tongue swishes over and under his cock in mind-numbing patterns, and I can't help but let little muffled moans escape my throat and vibrate against him. He almost can't contain himself: bucking his hips and practically fucking my throat. I do my best to cancel out the occasional gag so quickly he won't feel guilty and possibly stop.

Use me, I think.

Usually, I'd take the lead, never letting a head pusher take the role. But not this time. Lip's so pent up, so stressed with the complexities of his life. This is a kind gesture. One that involves tears of struggle spilling out of my eyes and streaming down ky cheeks. But fuck, I love it. It's filthy. It's nasty the way I nearly suck him dry. I can't remember the last time a blowjob was this fun.

"Such a good girl. Y'know that?" He looks down at me, biting his lip as his eyebrows knit in pleasure and desperate need to cum down my pretty little throat, "how'd you get so fuckin...so fuckin' good at this, baby? Shit—feels so good."

He babbles over and over again, and I'm taking strategic breaths through my nose and speeding the pace of my fingers as they thrust in and out of me so I don't stop him from releasing the way he absolutely deserves. Finally, he pulls my ponytail tighter than he ever has, warning me that he's about to cum, but by the time he tells me, it sends down my throat. He groans out, releasing my hair and going limp. I swallow the salty substance, blinking out the last few tears in my eyes and sliding my fingers out of me.

—

Lip: 1 message.

Hey. 11:47pm

Hey. Miss me already? 11:52pm

Something like that, yeah. 11:56pm

What's up 11:58pm

I get off early tomorrow. Just wondering if you wanted to come by the shop and hang out for a bit? 11:59pm

Sure. See you then. xoxo 12:03am.

—

current taglist : @lemmejustpulloutmylightsaber @sexyyounglatinoboy @febris-amatoria

#lip gallagher x oc #lip gallagher #lip gallagher smut #shameless x OC #lip gallagher x reader smut #lip gallagher x oc smut #shameless #shameless x reader #jeremy allen white #i hope you guys like this!!!#tried really hard with this new style

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