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helaelaemond · 3 months

Text

Shipping Out

Pairing: Tom Bennett (World on Fire) x f!reader Warnings: Drinking, smoking, public sex, smut. Word count: ~1.5k

Summary: Just trust me on this one, and read all the way to the end.

Author's note: A little birthday treat for @bottlesandbarricades. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

The pub is crowded and noisy, the humidity of the air making her carefully coiffed curls cling to the back of her neck with perspiration. It’s not often that she frequents this side of Manchester, but the change of scenery is a refreshing switch of pace to the monotony of everyday life. Laughter, music and the clinking of glasses is preferable to the whir of the factory sewing machines.

She taps her red lacquered nails against the wood of the bar, wrinkling her nose at the stickiness of the wooden surface beneath her palm. If the frequency with which it’s wiped down is any indication of the attentiveness of the barkeep then she’s in for a long wait for a drink.

Sighing, she fishes her cigarette case from her handbag, flipping it open and plucking one out. No sooner has she placed it between her lips than a hand is clicking a flame to life before the end of it, turning it a glowing cherry red. She casts her gaze upwards through the steady plume of smoke, met by twinkling blue eyes and a cocky smirk, as the chivalrous stranger deposits his lighter back into his trouser pocket and regards her with a tip of his head.

“Thanks,” she says with an easy smile, taking the smoke between her fingers and exhaling a tight line of vapour up towards the ceiling.

“Don’t mention it,” he replies with a wink. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this then?”

God, that’s a terrible line.

She bites back a laugh, and decides to humour him. “Trying to get a drink, service in here is awful though.”

He purses his lips, eyes raking over her from head to toe, before nodding. “Can’t be having that.” Slapping a hand against the bartop, he calls out, “Oi! My lady friend and I are dying of thirst over here! Anyone serving?”

She raises her eyebrows in disbelief, but doesn’t have to wait long until a middle aged, irritated looking woman makes her way around the corner to the pair of them and grumpily takes their order. She’s long since finished her cigarette by the time the glasses are placed heavily down in front of them.

He doesn’t even ask what she wants to drink; she ends up with a gin and tonic, while he has a pint. It’s what she would have ordered anyway, but the bold presumption unsettles her regardless.

Sipping her drink, she relishes in the way the fizzy bitterness envelopes her tongue as she takes in what he’s wearing; navy blue slacks and a matching long sleeved smock, with a white striped collar.

“Shouldn’t you be on a boat somewhere, sailor?”

He grins, setting his glass down on a dog eared beer mat. “Just so happens I’ve been given a night of shore leave. I ship out again tomorrow.”

“Lucky me,” she says with a coy smile.

“If you play your cards right you might be.”

There’s that smirk again. She watches as he takes out a packet of Lucky Strike, perching one between his lips before offering one to her. She gratefully accepts, and he’s quick to light it for her, before doing the same to his own.

Every table is full, but she doesn’t mind, she’s content just to prop up the bar with him, ignoring the ache of her feet as they lapse into effortless conversation. He’s handsome, if a little overeager and she pays rapt attention as he entertains her with stories of his time aboard the HMS Exeter.

She’s on her third gin and tonic of the evening when he leans in to whisper to her.

“So, I might not see another woman for months after tonight. You gonna help me make it one to remember?”

Feeling her cheeks heat up, she giggles softly. “What did you have in mind?”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll find a way for you to thank me for my loyal service to our country,” he tells her, taking her hand and leading her out of the pub.

Allowing the gin to fuel her confidence, before she can change her mind, she lets him guide her outside. Even met with the sobering chill of the night air, she offers up no protest when he pulls her into the ginnel, the brickwork biting into her back as he pushes her up against the wall and captures her lips with her.

It’s a messy kiss, moist and desperate with need. He tastes of beer and tobacco as she welcomes his tongue against her own with parted lips, her fingertips sliding over the breadth of his shoulders and up into the cropped softness of his sandy coloured hair.

Pressing tighter against her, he groans appreciatively, mouth moving from hers to travel a path across her jaw and down her neck, as his hands find their way up her skirt. One teases the top of her stocking while the other presses against her clothed core, making her gasp.

His touch is hurried, not as thorough as she’d like, yet she feels a growing stickiness between her thighs regardless. The warmth of his fingers and lips against her makes her feel desired, and she is lightheaded, almost giddy, to see the effect she’s having on him.

Instinctively, she parts her legs wider as he dips beneath her knicker elastic, stroking eagerly through her folds.

“Christ, you’re soaked,” he rasps against the shell of her ear, “bet you’d let me fuck you right here, if I wanted, wouldn’t you?”

She bites her bottom lip, stifling her quiet whimper as his strokes against her cause her to throb. “Please…”

“Since you asked nicely…” He pulls back, blue eyes dark with intent as he makes quick work of unbuckling his belt, lowering his trousers and briefs just enough to free his erection.

Even in the darkness of the alleyway she can see that he’s thick and heavy, and he pumps lazily at himself, while his free hand reaches into his pocket.

“Leave that,” she tells him, as she spots the foil of the sheath wrapper.

He raises an eyebrow, pursing his lips as he stares at her. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” she whispers.

That’s all the confirmation he needs, slipping the packet away and surging forward. He pulls her underwear to the side, grasping the base of himself and pushes forcefully into her in one motion.

The movement knocks all the air from her lungs. Though she is wet, the public nature of their tryst leaves little time for him to prepare her fully, the luxury of time is not on their side, but in their desperation neither one of them cares. It stings, the fullness of him pushing against her, but it’s a pleasurable hurt.

Her breaths leave her mouth in shallow pants as he pistons his hips into her, lifting one of her legs to hook her thigh around his hip. She wraps her arms around his neck, clinging to him as he rocks into her, his forehead pushed up against hers.

“Filthy slut,” he grits out, “bet you’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”

“Y-yeah…” she whines, feeling his fingers press tighter into the meat of her thigh.

His brow furrows, and he grunts, his pace becoming sloppy and erratic. While the ache builds steadily inside of her, she worries he’ll finish before she does. The thought is fleeting, and as though he’s read her mind, the hand not gripping her thigh slips between them, fingers rubbing tight circles against her bud. She clenches around him, the added stimulation serving to intensify the tightening in her lower belly.

“That’s it,” he mutters, “come on.”

He pulsates inside of her, knocking against a spot that makes her tip over the edge suddenly, and she lets out a choked cry, a rolling wave of weightlessness travelling from her head to her toes. Her walls spasm around him and he pushes himself in to the hilt, a groan of relief escaping him as he spills himself inside of her.

They stay like that for a few moments, both catching their breath as their bodies relax. He grins as he pulls back slightly, before leaning in to pepper her face with soft, playful kisses.

“Tommy!” She huffs a laugh, swatting at his shoulder.

He slips out of her, stepping back to tuck himself away and fasten his belt. “Thought we weren’t supposed to be using our names? Part of the fun was pretending we don’t know each other.”

She scoffs, putting her gusset back into place as she feels his spend start to drip out of her, and smooths her skirt back down. “Think you ruined that when you ordered my drink without asking what I wanted. A stranger wouldn’t know I like gin and tonic!”

Tom rolls his eyes and chuckles, offering his arm for her to take. “Right, right. Well, I’ll remember for next time. Whatever you need for me to fulfill your fantasies.”

“Right now, my only fantasy is being at home in bed. That pub is horrible,” she tells him as they begin to walk down the street arm in arm.

“You wanted the uniform. I wasn’t gonna take us somewhere someone we know would see and take the piss.”

She laughs, gripping his arm tighter as she looks up at him. “Was fun though, wasn’t it?”

He gazes down at her with hooded eyes as they continue to walk. “I’ve had worse nights.”

#to read

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helaelaemond · 3 months

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You are the silence in between (what I thought and what I said)

mdni by @arcielee ♥️♥️

Taglist: @black-dread @helaelaemond @orcaunionleader @aemondtarqaryens @artyoms @barbieaemond @bottlesandbarricades

A/N: to think this is the result of a mental image I had out of the blue and several very awful diagrams later that will never see the light of day 😂 I hope you like it ♥️

Summary: In the wake of a more than disastrous dinner between the two sides, anger is not the only thing running hot.

Warnings: MDNI 18+ NSFW, Female Reader, edging, handjob, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), teasing, 69

Word count 2.1k

A wave of nervousness washes over her as the seconds pass, churning low and unpleasantly in her belly the longer she stares at Aemond. Her thighs clench together at the sight of the hungry, almost wild look that burns in his eye, sending desire rolling through her, threatening to swallow her whole as his sapphire winks at her from the cavern where his other had been. The look on his face grows more heated every time her gaze flicks to the book placed almost unassumingly on the little table, the title of it all but seared into her mind now, before shifting back to his.

She never imagined marriage, let alone her own, she thought with a suddenly dry mouth, feeling her heartbeat thump almost painfully behind her ribs, could be like this. She knew what awaited her as a daughter of a great House, what her future held, as did any highborn girl, yet she had still clung to the hope, more a child's folly than anything, that her own marriage, to whoever her father chose for her, would be different.

That it would be better. Happier, even, than the ones she had been witness to as a girl, surrounded by the unhappy unions of her father and mother, as well the ones of the King and Queen Alicent and later the Prince Aegon and Princess Helaena.

Her betrothal to Aemond mere days after her seven and tenth nameday had come as no surprise to anyone, expected even, given how close her mother was to the Queen. Except her, it seemed, not that she dared to complain. To be tied in marriage to a Prince was an honor. A dream, too, one that countless girls held, all but lured in by the promise of gold and jewels and riches and the tales they listened to at the knees of Septas and nursemaids.

He had been distant at first, her Aemond, the sudden change in his demeanor from the sullen boy she remembered of her youth giving way to the rigid and stiff spined man he had become, more often than not finding some way, whether on dragonback or concealing himself in some hidden spot within the library that she had missed, to evade her. It had stung more than she had cared to admit every time she saw the thoroughly disinterested look in his eye whenever he laid eyes upon her the few and far in between times his mother the Queen had been successful in wrangling him into dining with her or his siblings. He almost always spent those times alternating between picking at his food or leveling flat unimpressed looks in his elder brother's direction or focusing on his sister, his eye sliding over her when he did.

It had only been after carefully spoken words from the Queen and Princess Helaena and her mother did she resolve to gain his attention, all but cornering him in the library, squaring her shoulders as she opened her mouth, though not before plucking the book from his grasp and tossing it aside, did he finally, truly look at her, his eye free from the disdain that she had become so painfully familiar with. After that, the days leading up to their marriage seemed to all but pass in the blink of an eye, one after the other, a haze of time spent at his side until the day came and she stood face to face with him. It had been in that moment did she believe it - the phrase that she had heard half a hundred times echoing inside her mind, that Targaryens were closer to gods than to men - as she stared at him, lips parted, the light of the high windows in the royal Sept bouncing off the sharp, pretty angles of his face.

She tightened her hold on him, one arm wound around his neck, the rich, almost wine red hue of her dress standing out vividly against the dark of his leather as she felt it, the burning dragonfire heat of his need to dominate, to consume, in every touch of his lips to her skin as he trailed his mouth down the curve of her throat. She let out a low moan as he pushed at her skirts, his hands flexing against her waist, feeling the vibration of the agitated noise he let out barely a moment later as his fingers tangled in the fabric instead, the sound still carrying traces of his anger from the dinner. Not that she cared, really, then or now, when the peace between the two sides of his family the King craved shattered like glass the moment the doors closed in his wake.

Aemond's fingers traced upwards, deftly loosening the lacing of her dress before he leaned back, watching enraptured as it floated down her body to puddle around her feet. His eye moved upwards to her face again, his pupil dark and almost back, his breathing little more than pants now as he pressed his body harder against hers, the heat of him almost suffocating. It felt like he was everywhere all at once, but she wouldn't have it any other way. It was as easy as breathing, the way he touched her, the way he craved her just as much as she did him. His hands were warm on her skin as he slipped the hem of her shift up her body and over her head, his breathing growing more ragged as his chest began to rise and fall more rapidly.

He made another noise, this one bordering a whine as a reddened flush of color rose beneath the surface of his skin where her fingertips dug into the meat of his shoulders, the leather of his tunic soft beneath her fingers.

"Ābrazȳrys-'' he panted, the color painted across his face and down his neck. The hand he had tangled in her hair fell then to her hip as she pressed her lips to his, kissing him again and again and again, hoarding the sounds he didn't make for anyone else like they were treasure. She pulled back to grin at him, her eyes darting over every inch of his face, taking in his pleasure slackened expression. He was so very pretty like this, bare and free of clothing concealing his body from her gaze.

She let out a yelp as his arm wound around her waist, sudden enough to startle her. He shifted his grasp on her as he crossed the room, laying her down almost gently atop the bedding, keeping his eye locked on her face. She shivered, goosebumps erupting across her arms from the night air floating into the room from the open window, all but incapable of turning her gaze away from where he towered over her, the moonlight behind him alighting in his silver hair. She reached for him then, exhaling a breath at the feel of him coming flush against her, the way the length of his body never failed to fit against her own so perfectly like the puzzle box she had gifted Helaena on her eight and tenth name-day.

"Gevie,"

He groans the word against the flesh of the curve of her shoulder, trailing a line of kisses over the skin that grow sloppier by the second as the pads of his fingers dig into her sides, and she knows there would be bruises there come morning.

"This is what you wanted, is it not?" She murmurs as she grins at him again, pulling far enough away from him to settle on her haunches, an almost triumphant look on her face as she drags the fingers of one hand over the curve of his jaw and down his chest, feeling every ridge and contour under his skin, her eyes moving over the planes of his lean frame before stopping on his stomach, watching as the toned muscle under his skin shifts just beneath the surface. He glowers at her in response, his eyes narrowing as a brief flare of fury overpowers the lust sitting dark and heavy in his sole eye, his hands fisting and unfisting at his sides.

'Yes," he utters finally in response to her raised eyebrow, keeping his gaze locked on hers, the tone of his voice carrying a not so little trace of his growing desperation. She lets out a raspy, breathless laugh, watching him intently as she retreats, turning her body away from his gaze, lips twitching at his half annoyed huff. She kept her eyes on him as he moved, the bed creaking beneath his weight, pushing his loosened hair behind him as he lowered himself down to be an opposite mirror image of her. She doesn't miss the way his face twists when his knee connects with the wood of the baseboard before his expression smoothes over.

His hand settles on her thigh as he keeps his gaze on her, his eye half lidded now, the pad of his thumb moving back and forth across the skin of her waist in a manner she almost thinks is purposefully done. She finds the strength then to move, the bed creaking under her as she shifts closer to him until there is almost no distance separating them, her fingers wrapping around his cock, flushed and weeping mere inches from her face, watching as he hardens in her hold, the tip leaking almost pearlescent spend onto the tips of her fingers.

“I've never done this before,” she manages to choke out as she ducks her head in retaliation, keeping her eyes locked on his as a feeling builds inside her, one she knows borders on vengeful, something stemming from her pride as much as it did from his.

He hums in response, the lazy unhurried noise turning into a choked, half startled moan that escaped him when she hollowed her cheeks, breathing through her nose as her tongue swirled around the underside of his cock, the sound almost wanton, thunderously loud in the near nonexistent space between them. His hips jolt, half rising up in response to the warmth of her mouth as her breath fans over his skin as the lewd sounds of his mouth on her cunt echo throughout their rooms, clashing with the sound of the unrelenting rain from the storm that had come hours ago and had yet to abate.

She doesn't stop though, enraptured and enthralled by the way he flushes, the darkened hue of color in his cheeks that she can see even from where she lays. Her fingers ghost almost teasingly over his thighs, edging him closer to his peak over and over and over, all but addicted by the sight of him, hair askew and his sole eye half unfocused as he meets her gaze, his slickened fingers curling around her thigh, an almost feral grin forming on his lips. Her head thumps back against the pillows behind her a half second later as she bites her lip in yet another weak attempt to stifle the moan that falls all too freely from her lips as his nose brushes her bud, her eyes rolling back as pleasure coils tighter in her stomach. She feels almost boneless from it, the pleasure licking a trail up her spine, and she knows how she must look, how he must look, debauched or mussed or any number of things, but she pushes the thought from her mind easily.

Her musings cut off suddenly when the heat of his mouth vanished, his hand moving to flatten against her stomach as he slid one finger inside her, then two, his attention so focused he didn't notice as she half raised her head, her hips bucking this time. Her knuckles blanched white, her fingers twisting around the sheets, her forehead pressing against the near scorching skin of his hip as she writhed, a half uttered curse slipping from her mouth.

She thumped the heel of her hand against his back, all but letting the overstimulation and the desperation wash over her, closing her eyes as she sagged limply, one eye cracking open halfway at the feel of his fingers brushing her hair back. Her eyes move over his face, some of the haze fading at sight of the grin dancing on his mouth. "Aemond-"

She breathed his name weakly, one hand wrapping around his arm, brow furrowing. She shivered, half turning on her side and away from the near frigid breeze that blew into the room. She sighed, fingers twining with Aemond's when he settled behind her. He wrapped his arm around her waist as he pressed his lips to the curve of her shoulder, his fingers stroking up and down her side softly.

Her head turned to the side, nose brushing his, feeling the heat of him hot against the curve of her spine, her eyes dragging down the length of his arm, watching his hand dip between her thighs, his still half slick fingers circling at her bud more gently than he had earlier. "You're insatiable," she huffs breathlessly, her tone fond and more than a little half amused.

#to read

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helaelaemond · 3 months

Note

Hi there! What do you think of writing something of Reader overstimulating virgin Osferth? Could be short

Pairing: Osferth x reader

Word count: 1k

Summary: pure smut. Hand job (reader giving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms

Rating: E

Notes: thank you so much! This was the exact prompt I needed to get the writing out of my system!

"Does that feel good?"

Osferth whimpers and tries to get away from you, but you press a hand to his chest to keep him lying there. He shakes as he comes, seed spurting from his hard cock, and tears leak from his eyes.

"Does that feel good?" you repeat.

He shakes his head. "Please. Please, enough." His words are little more than hard breaths, his chest heaving with the effort.

The seed makes your hand slick. With smooth strokes, you keep your hand against him and cover his length again and again, dragging his orgasm out. When you dig your nail into his little slit, he whimpers again.

"Please, stop!"

But when you lean down to kiss him, he surges up to meet you. In a heartbeat, he parts his lips and sinks his tongue into your mouth, claiming you, begging you. Between you, his hand goes to your wrist, but he doesn't yank it away.

"You want to come again?" you ask quietly. He sucks your lower lip between his own before biting, nodding.

"Please."

Sweet Osferth doesn't even know what he's begging for anymore. After a moment, the strength goes from him and he whines softly, falling back onto the bed. He looks up at you with such pretty eyes, so wide and confused and adoring.

"Does it hurt?" you ask. His cock is red and swollen, his balls tense, and his entire groin is slick from release after release.

He nods, eyes red.

You kiss his forehead. "I think you can come again for me, can't you?"

Another whimper escapes him. He's got that glazed look on his face that tells you he's close to his limit. Close. Not there entirely. "Y... yes."

It makes you shiver. "Osferth..."

The way his eyes light up when you murmur his name is endearing, to say the least. You massage his balls, and he whines softly. His feet kick against the bed and suddenly his hips lift off it in a desperate attempt to get away. Again, you press him back down.

"Be good, sweet Osferth," you tell him.

The call of his name again draws him back. Wide-eyed and dazed, he looks at you. Quietly, he moans your name. You reward him with a gentler touch between his legs; the soft skin of his balls is warm and thin and sticky with sweat and come. With your other hand, you stroke up and down his stomach soothingly. There isn't a chance for his cock to get soft again by the time your firm grasp returns.

"You can do this for me, can't you?"

Again, Osferth moans your name. "Yes! Yes! For you, anything!"

You stroke his cock hard and firm, and kiss his mouth. It hangs open, desperate and needy, and each time you swipe your tongue over his, he groans. The noise sounds deep in his bare chest, sore in the back of his throat.

"Good," you murmur between obscene kisses. "Keep going, Osferth."

As he gets closer to his final peak, his thighs twitch, his hips lift, his head tosses. You keep your pace steady for a moment, but then you stroke him harder and faster than before. Harder, faster. You spit down on his cock head and he twitches at the new sensation.

"Please!" he whines. "Please, please, I can't-"

"You can, Osferth. I know you can."

Surely someone outside will hear. He is too loud not to hear. But he's too far gone to stop, and so are you. How long have you wanted this, to make him like this? All the stolen glances, all the casual touches, all the hours spent together in innocent bliss, they have been leading to something like this.

He kissed you first. But you crossed this line first. He thanked you for it as the sun set. Now the stars are crossing the sky, and his thanks have turned to begs.

"Help me, please, please-"

"Relax, Osferth."

You bury your face into his long neck and inhale his scent, familiar and strange. You bite his earlobe and tug and he cries out. Under your hand, his stomach tenses until his spine curls. From his lips spills your name again and again and again. Breaths come shorter and quicker, more ragged.

"Yes, just like that," you moan into his ear.

He echoes you. "Like that! Oh, yes, yes-!"

"Keep going."

He nods, eyes closed. "Yes, yes, oh Lord, yes-! Shit-! Shit, I'm-!"

His final orgasm is pulled violently from him. Osferth cries, eyes red and puffy, cheeks streaked, jaw locked open. You stroke him just as hard and fast as before and glance down to watch him spill. It leaks from his sore cock, milky and hot, and you catch it to make your hand slick again. Through his orgasm you stroke him until he squirms away from you again.

"No more!" he begs.

Carefully, you let him go, and drag your hand up his side. He curls up on the bed, thighs shaking, arms trembling. "I'll be back," you whisper against his ear. Quickly and quietly, you bring over to the bed a bowl of clean water and soft linen cloth. Tenderly, so as not to hurt him, you wipe his spend from your hands and his torso. When you try to clean between his legs, he whimpers and curls away.

"Alright, alright." You smile slightly, and set it aside. You climb onto his bed behind him and press your chest against his back, slot your legs behind his. He's so tall, so lithe and pliant, and he sinks back against you. As you sling one arm over his side, he sighs in contentment.

"Thank you," he murmurs after long moments of peace.

"Hmm?" You kiss his neck idly.

"For... for this."

"You needn't thank me, Osferth."

"But... I would like to anyway. If it pleases you."

Smiling, you run your nose through his soft, short hair. "You please me."

"Thank you."

"Would you like to do this again?"

He pulls your arm tighter around him and kisses your fingers gently. "Yes. But... if it pleases you... I should like to... please you. If you would show me?"

"I would like that, Osferth. I would like that very much."

#hiatus rb #new osferth pending

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