#LACE compliance | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kckt88 · 8 days

Text

Closer II

Summary:

Both Aemond and Lucaela deal with the concequences of their mating as certain revelations come to light.

Warning(s): Language, Angst, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Smut – Fingering, Oral Sex, P in V, Knotting, Marriage, Pregnancy, Child Birth, Character Death.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C LUCAELA VELARYON

INSPIRED BY - 'NINE INCH NAILS - CLOSER'

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word Count: 6623

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

"You fool!" Otto roared, his voice echoing off the walls of his chambers. "You can't keep your damn knot in your breeches, can you? Irreversibly tying yourself to Rhaenyra's daughter, of all people!"

Aemond's jaw tensed, his own frustration mounting as he bore the brunt of his grandfather's wrath. "I never intended for this to happen, grandfather," he protested, his voice tinged with desperation. "But Lucaela-she's my mate. I couldn't deny our bond any longer."

"Your mate be damned!" Otto spat, his fists clenching at his sides. "Do you realize what you've done? You've single-handedly destroyed any chance we had of securing the throne for your brother. All because you couldn't control your urges, I thought I had to worry about your brother, not you”.

"Grandsire-“ muttered Aemond.

Otto's mind raced as he tried to salvage the remnants of his meticulously laid plans, the very foundations of which now seemed to crumble beneath his feet. With Rhaenyra and Daemon demanding that Aemond marry Lucaela, Otto saw a sliver of opportunity amidst the chaos.

"If we can't control the situation," he mused aloud, his voice heavy with frustration, "Perhaps we can manipulate it to our advantage."

Rhaenyra's attachment to her daughter was well-known, a weakness that could be exploited if handled with care. If Lucaela became a pawn in their political game, they might be able to force Rhaenyra to come to terms and bend to their will.

"Force her hand," Otto murmured to himself, his mind churning with possibilities. "Use Lucaela as leverage to ensure Rhaenyra's compliance."

The Alpha within Aemond roared in protest as he listened to his grandfather's plans for Lucaela. Deep within him, a primal instinct surged, rejecting Otto's manipulative schemes with a ferocity that matched the flames of a dragon.

"No," Aemond growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I will not allow Lucaela to be used as a pawn in your games”.

Otto's gaze hardened as he locked eyes with Aemond, his own resolve unyielding in the face of his grandson's defiance. "You are willing to risk everything," he countered, his voice laced with frustration, "Your own life, the lives of your brothers and sister, the life of your mother, all for the sake of this bond?"

Aemond squared his shoulders and shook his head, his grandsire’s words playing on a loop in his mind.

But the Alpha inside him was furious, demanding that he protect his mate.

"If Rhaenyra is crowned queen, we will all be in danger. She will see us as threats to her rule, and she will stop at nothing to eliminate us."

“Grandsire-there has to be another way“ muttered Aemond.

Otto shook his head, his expression grim. "What of the realm?" he challenged. "Do you not care about the stability of the Seven Kingdoms? Aegon is the King’s firstborn son, the crown is his by right”.

"But at what cost?" Aemond shot back, his tone fierce. "Do we sacrifice everything we hold dear in the name of political expediency? I refuse to let Lucaela suffer for our ambitions, to see her used as a pawn in a game of thrones."

“I implore you to see reason Aemond-a living contender invites challenge. We must work together to secure your brother’s succession,” said Otto.

“Not at the cost of Lucy-“

"You're being used, Aemond," declared Otto, his tone cold and unforgiving. "Can't you see? Lucaela deliberately placed herself in front of you, knowing full well you wouldn't be able to resist her scent."

Aemond's jaw clenched at the accusation, his Alpha instincts bristling with indignation. "You speak as if Lucaela is some kind of manipulative pawn," he countered, his voice sharp with defiance. "But she is my mate. Our bond is stronger than any scheme Rhaenyra could concoct."

Otto shook his head, his expression incredulous. "You only lost one eye how could you be so blind" he scoffed. "Do you honestly believe Lucaela's actions are purely out of love? She is her mother’s daughter, and she’s been raised by Daemon. You think it's a coincidence that she presented herself to you on the day of the Driftmark petition?"

Aemond's chest tightened at the implication, his mind reeling with the possibility that he had been deceived. But even as doubt crept into his thoughts, he refused to entertain the notion that Lucaela's feelings for him were anything less than genuine.

"You don't understand” he asserted, his tone firm and resolute. "Through our bond, I can feel her emotions, her feelings for me. They are genuine, I would know if they were false."

“A fools notion” scoffed Otto.

His Alpha instincts surged within him, reinforcing his conviction with a primal certainty that Otto could not hope to comprehend. "You speak of manipulation and deceit, but you underestimate the power of our connection," Aemond continued, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him. "I can feel her love for me. No scheme or plot could fabricate such emotion."

Otto's scepticism faltered slightly, a flicker of doubt crossing his features as he regarded his grandson. But he quickly regained his composure, his resolve unyielding in the face of Aemond's protestations.

"Feelings can be fickle, Aemond," he cautioned, his voice tinged with warning. "Do not let your emotions cloud your judgment”.

But Aemond remained steadfast, his faith in Lucaela unwavering despite the doubts cast upon their relationship. "I trust in our bond, grandsire," he declared, his voice ringing with determination. "No matter the challenges we face, I will stand by Lucaela's side”.

Otto's voice carried a solemn warning as he fixed Aemond with a steely gaze. "When the time comes, Aemond," he said, his tone grave, "You had better pray to the Seven that your bond with Lucaela will be enough to save not only your life but the lives of your siblings as well."

As he rounded a corner, Aemond's heart skipped a beat at the sight that greeted him. There she was, Lucaela, radiant and alluring as ever, standing in the company of her stepfather, Daemon. His presence sent a surge of possessiveness coursing through Aemond, the Alpha within him bristling at the sight of another Alpha in such close proximity to his mate.

For a moment, Aemond stood rooted to the spot, torn between the conflicting urges warring within him. On one hand, the desire to assert his claim over Lucaela burned fiercely within him, driving him to emphasise his dominance over any who would dare to encroach upon their bond.

But on the other hand, a voice of reason whispered in the back of his mind, reminding him of the consequences of giving in to his primal instincts.

With a deep breath, Aemond forced himself to calm, the turmoil within him subsiding slightly as he approached Lucaela and Daemon. "Lucaela," he greeted her, his voice husky with desire yet tempered with restraint. "I was hoping to find you."

Lucaela turned to him, her eyes lighting up with warmth and affection. "Aemond," she replied, a smile gracing her lips.

" I was wandering when you’d have the courage to show your face after defiling my stepdaughter” said Daemon, his hand wrapping around the pommel of Dark Sister.

Aemond's jaw clenched at the barb, his Alpha instincts bristling at the insult. "Things will be set right by our marriage," he retorted, his voice sharp with indignation.

Daemon raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening into a knowing grin. "Of course, of course," he replied, his tone oozing with insincerity. "Nothing like a hasty ceremony to make up for your indiscretions, eh?"

But before Aemond could respond, Daemon continued, his tone dripping with condescension. "I do hope your grandsire hasn’t taken the news too hard, now that you can’t be sold off to forge alliances" he taunted, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "I suppose his carefully laid plans will have to be put on hold now that you've tied yourself to my stepdaughter."

Aemond's fists clenched at his sides, the Alpha within him roaring with fury at Daemon's jibes.

Just as he was about to respond, Aemond felt a surge of panic course through him, a jolt of raw emotion that cut through the haze of his thoughts like a knife. It was Lucaela, her distress echoing through their bond with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine.

His mind raced back to his grandfather's words, the insinuation that Lucaela had deliberately placed herself in his path, tempting him with her presence.

Could it be true? Had she orchestrated their meeting, knowing full well the effect she would have on him?

The doubt gnawed at him, a relentless whisper in the back of his mind as he struggled to make sense of the tumultuous emotions swirling within him.

“L-Lucaela” exclaimed Aemond, his hand reaching up to his mating mark that had now started to sting.

Lucaela stared at Aemond for a moment before she turned and fled, her steps quick and determined as she disappeared back inside the Red Keep. Without a moment's hesitation, he followed, his instincts driving him forward with a single-minded purpose.

"Lucaela, wait!" he called after her, his voice echoing off the stone walls of the keep. But she did not stop, her form disappearing around a corner as she continued to flee from him.

With a surge of determination, Aemond quickened his pace, his footsteps echoing loudly in the empty corridors as he chased after her.

Finally, he caught up to her just outside her chambers, his chest heaving as he reached out to gently grasp her arm, turning her to face him. "Lucy, please," he pleaded, his voice filled with urgency. "Tell me what's wrong. Why did you run?"

Lucaela's eyes were wide with fear and uncertainty as she looked up at him, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "I-I can't," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the pounding of their hearts.

But Aemond refused to let her push him away. "You can't or you won't?" he pressed, his voice tinged with frustration and desperation.

As Aemond searched her eyes for answers, Lucaela's resolve crumbled under the weight of his gaze. She took a shaky breath, steeling herself to confess the truth that had been weighing on her.

"Aemond," she began, her voice trembling with emotion. "Daemon found out about Otto's scheming-about your family's plans to usurp the throne and have Aegon crowned instead of my mother."

Aemond's eye widened in shock at the revelation, the implications of Daemon's discovery sinking in with a sickening sense of dread. "How?" he breathed, his voice barely a whisper.

Lucaela swallowed hard, her hands trembling at her sides. "Someone overheard a conversation between Otto and one of his advisors and word got back to Daemon," she confessed, her voice barely audible above the pounding of her heart.

“What does that have to do with me?” asked Aemond.

"After Daemon found out about Otto's plans, he knows that you and Vhagar are Otto’s biggest asset. He-he told me to place myself in front of you, to allow nature to take its course."

Aemond's eyes widened in shock, his mind reeling at the implications of her words. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice trembling with disbelief.

Lucaela swallowed hard, the truth spilling from her lips like poison. "He knew that as a newly presented Omega, no unmated Alpha could resist me," she confessed, her voice shaking with shame. "He told me to use that to my advantage, to tempt you into-into succumbing to your desires."

A wave of anger surged through Aemond, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as he struggled to process the betrayal that lay before him. "And you-you went along with it?" he demanded; his voice laced with accusation.

Tears welled in Lucaela's eyes as she met his gaze, her own heart breaking at the pain she had caused him. "I-I didn't know what else to do," she admitted, her voice cracking with emotion. "I thought-I thought I was helping, that I was ensuring my mother’s claim”

How could you?" he demanded; his voice thick with emotion. "How could you deceive me like this, Lucy? To use our bond for your own gain, to manipulate me-“

But before he could finish his tirade, Lucaela scoffed, her own frustration boiling over at his accusations. "And what about Otto's scheming to usurp the throne?" she shot back, her voice tinged with bitterness. "Did you really think that Daemon would stand idly by while your grandsire plotted to undermine my mother’s claim?"

Aemond recoiled at the venom in her words, the truth of her accusations striking him like a blow to the chest.

"Lucaela, I-" he began, his voice faltering as he searched for the right words.

But she held up a hand, cutting him off before he could speak. "I'm not excusing what I did, Aemond," she admitted, her voice softening slightly. "But usurping the throne from the named heir, it’s wrong”.

"In order for your mother to secure her reign, she would have to eliminate any potential threats to her power. Aegon, Me even Daeron. A living contender invites challenge," he continued, his voice heavy with resignation. "And in Rhaenyra's eyes, any one of us could be seen as a threat to her rule”.

Lucaela's eyes flashed with indignation, her voice rising with anger as she countered Aemond's grim assessment. "How dare you, Aemond," she spat, her words sharp with frustration. "My mother would never harm anyone. You are her blood. You would be part of her rule as Queen, not victims of her ambition."

“Did she not demand that I be sharply questioned-to discover where I heard slanders against her bastards” snapped Aemond.

The fire in her eyes burned bright, fuelled by a fierce loyalty to her mother and a deep-seated belief in her righteousness. "Otto has dripped his poison in your ear," she accused, her voice trembling with emotion. "You've let his doubts cloud your judgment, but I refuse to let you believe such lies."

“How can I be assured that they are lies” replied Aemond.

"Aemond, please," she implored, her tone softened with earnestness. "Search our bond. Feel the truth in my words. My mother has no intention of harming you or your siblings."

Aemond hesitated, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air between them. But as he gazed into Lucaela's eyes, he saw nothing, but sincerity reflected back at him, a raw honesty that stirred something deep within his soul.

Closing his eye, Aemond reached out through their bond, searching for the truth amidst the tumult of emotions that swirled within him. And as he delved deeper, he felt a sense of clarity wash over him, a profound realization that cut through the fog of doubt and uncertainty.

Lucaela wasn't lying. Her mother, Rhaenyra, harboured no ill intentions toward him or his siblings. It was a truth that resonated deep within him, anchoring him in the certainty of their shared bond.

Aemond pressed his forehead against Lucaela's, their bond pulsing with the intensity of their shared emotions. "My grandsire told me that crowning Rhaenyra would divide the Seven Kingdoms and start a war," he murmured, his voice heavy with concern.

But Lucaela shook her head, her eyes filled with a solemn conviction. "Usurping the throne is what will start a war," she countered, her voice steady despite the turmoil that raged within her.

“I’m worried Lucy-“

“Aemond, please listen to me," she implored, her gaze pleading with him to understand. "My mother is the named heir. It is her birthright, recognized by law. To challenge her claim would only sow further discord and violence only begets more violence. If you take the throne by force, it will only lead to bloodshed and chaos."

Aemond's expression softened as he regarded Lucaela, her sincerity and wisdom shining through in her words. "But what if-“

“-The House of the Dragon needs to stand together as one. Let the realm see us united, witness our strength and unity."

She reached out to take his hand, her touch warm and reassuring. "We can show the realm that we are not divided by ambition or greed," she continued, her voice filled with conviction. "That we are bound by blood and loyalty, and that together, we are stronger than any external threat."

“I want to believe you-” whispered Aemond.

“What do you think would happen to us-to me if Aegon was crowned King? It works both ways Aemond, my life would be forfeit as would that of my mother, stepfather and brothers-Otto wouldn’t let us live” whispered Lucaela.

The Alpha inside Aemond bristled with anger at the thought of Lucaela being killed, as angry as he was at her scheming, he knew she was right.

The only thing to do was make a choice-believe his Omega and trust that her word was true, or side with his grandsire and stand on the precipice of war.

In the end it was the Alpha inside who made the choice.

"My Alpha, issa zaldrīzes," she murmured, her voice a gentle caress against his senses (My dragon).

The bond between them pulsed with a primal energy, igniting a fierce longing within Aemond's heart. The Alpha inside him roaring to life, demanding that he seek to make amends with his mate, to bridge the divide that had grown between them.

Unable to resist the pull of their bond any longer, Aemond leaned in close, his lips brushing against Lucaela's ear as he whispered his own confession. "My Omega, I need you" he breathed, his voice husky with desire and regret.

“Then take me Alpha-claim what belongs to you. Now and always” whimpered Lucaela.

Aemond suddenly lunged forward and pressed his lips to hers.

Their kiss was rough and vicious. Consisting of teeth and tongue.

It was an eruption of frustration and passion. Hands everywhere, grabbing, scratching, and pulling at one another.

He spun Lucaela around and pressed her face against the wall, with one hand on the back of her neck and the other quickly untying the laces of his breeches.

Aemond nudged her ankle with his foot, signalling for her to open her legs wider.

His body covered hers as he sucked and licked the delicate skin of her neck, leaving red marks in his wake.

Lucaela moved her head to the side and moaned loudly as she felt Aemond’s teeth nipping at her skin.

Not having the patience to properly prepare her, Aemond spat into his hand.

Aemond ran his hand up and down the hard length of himself, eyeing his Omega with an animalistic hunger, a smirk on his lips as she bent forward for him.

He pulls aside her small clothes as he guides himself to her entrance, she barely has a moment to adjust before he is pressing his cock forcefully inside and stretching her brutally, causing her to cry out.

“FUCKING TAKE IT!” growls Aemond.

Lucaela can’t think of anything but the intense pounding thrusts that greet her, causing her to wail and moan, causing tears form in her eyes, before running down her cheeks.

Aemond sets a brutal pace, his hips crashing into hers.

Then he withdraws from her and spins her around, lifting her into his arms, his mouth pressed against hers as he quickly thrusts back inside her.

“YES! YES! AEMOND!” screams Lucaela.

“FUCK!” shouts Aemond as he feels her cunny clenching around his cock.

“P-Please Alpha-“ wailed Lucaela.

Aemond digs his fingers into the soft flesh of Lucaela’s hips, pulling her body against his as he thrusts forward, his singular eye focused on where they are joined.

His cock shining with her slick, the knot beginning to swell at the base, but he doesn’t want to finish not yet, not like this. So he withdraws from her again, making her whimper in frustration.

But Aemond ignores her as he lays her on the chaise lounge and falls to his knees.

Sliding his calloused hands up her legs, bunching the fabric of her small clothes in his hand before he rips them from her body.

“Aemond” shrieked Lucaela as Aemond’s mouth descends on her cunny.

Ravenously, he pressed into his Omega’s dripping core with his tongue, in and out, much faster than his cock ever could.

Still gasping, Lucaela clutched at his head with one hand, her other digging into the fabric of the chaise.

Aemond withdrew from her soaking wet core and lashed hard at her clitoris with his tongue, pulling on it with his lips. He was hard, fast and brutal, alternating between her assaulted bundle of nerves and drinking deep from her cunt.

Lucaela ground down on Aemond, hard; his tongue speared deeper inside her, and she felt the warm curl of her peak approach.

Aemond growled, deep in his throat; a sound that she didn’t hear very often. The vibration of his vocal cords rippled through to his tongue and Lucaela gasped; she felt every vibration keenly. Her body tensed for her peak– But Aemond pulled away from her and smirked, his chin shining with her slick.

“A-Aemond” gasped Lucaela, the tears of frustration spilling down her cheeks.

“Be a good little Omega and take what your Alpha gives you” said Aemond as he reached for the laces of her dress before he grew impatient and tore it from her body, leaving her breasts bared.

His tongue licking at the stiffened rosy peak.

“P-Please. Alpha” sobbed Lucaela as she felt his hard cock sliding against her folds.

“Hmm” growled Aemond as he wrapped his hand around his wife’s throat and sheathed himself inside her once more.

“God. Yes. Aemond” moaned Lucaela.

He began to thrust in and out of her in deep achingly slow thrusts.

“Your cunt is dripping, it's so beautiful” sighed Aemond.

Slowly thrusting back and forth. Over and over, withdrawing further each time, until his cock entirely withdrew from her warm wet entrance. He marvelled at her body. Such a beautiful, succulent thing his Omega was. Allowing him entry into the most sacred parts of her body.

Aemond began to fuck her in earnest, his fingers digging into the flesh of her throat, using her as leverage as he repeatedly plunged his cock into her cunny, over, thrilled to hear Lucaela’s moans of need echoing around their chambers.

His thrusts, brutal and unrelenting.

“Come for me, love” breathed Aemond.

Lucaela’s. screamed as her desperately needed peak exploded from her body, making every limb tremble as her body bucked around Aemond’s cock.

Gods, he needed to spill his seed, to see her swollen with his pup. But he wanted to watch her ride him to completion.

So, with his cock still nestled inside her, Aemond manoeuvred himself into a sitting position with Lucaela on his lap.

“Give me another-I want you to come on my cock again” growled Aemond.

Lucaela ripped open the cotton shirt he was wearing and ran her hands over the defined muscles of his chest, her nails digging into his pale skin.

“Oh” gasped Lucaela as she rolled her hips against Aemonds.

“That’s it baby, take it. Take all of me”.

Aemond placed his hands on Lucaela’s hips and marvelled at his Omega as she rode him.

Lucaela dug her nails into Aemond’s chest as she moved her hips against his, his cock hitting the sweet spot inside her perfectly.

“A-Aemond” moaned Lucaela as he moved his hand to her breasts and once again took one of her nipples into his mouth, his teeth gently grazing the rosy bud.

“Let go baby, I can feel you clenching around me” exclaimed Aemond, as he moved to the other breast and lavished it with the same attention as the other.

Lucaela’s thighs began to burn, as she felt her second peak approach.

“AEMOND” screamed Lucaela as she felt Aemond’s knot slip inside her.

“God. Lucy-my Lucy” groaned Aemond as he exploded. His cock throbbing and twitching as he finally spilled his seed inside her, collapsing against the chaise, breathing hard.

It took a good while for Aemond to regain his senses. Meanwhile his Omega had collapsed against him, her face pressed into his neck.

Kings Landing was a buzz with activity. The guests were arriving, the preparations had been made and it was finally here. The day Lucaela and Aemond would stand together in the great sept and get married.

Lucaela was so nervous that she decided to skip breakfast, as she wasn’t sure that she could actually stomach food.

After bathing, Lucaela’s maids began to help her get ready. Her dark hair was brushed and twisted into elegant braids and the Valyrian steel necklace that had once been gifted to her mother by Daemon was placed around her neck.

The cool metal resting against the mating bite that already marred her pale skin.

Her wedding dress had a fitted sleeveless bodice with a modest neckline. The skirts flaring out behind her like a cloud.

As soon as the gown had been buttoned and her maiden cloak tied, there was a soft knock at the door.

It was her mother.

“You look beautiful” gasped Rhaenyra as she looked her daughter up and down.

“Thank you” replied Lucaela smiling.

“I’ve come to escort you to the sept and Daemon will walk you down the aisle”.

“D-Do I look like a bride mother?” asked Lucaela.

“You look perfect my sweet girl-but tell me is this what you truly desire?”

“Yes mother-“ replied Lucaela.

“I do not agree with Daemon’s scheming-“ said Rhaenyra as she took her daughters hand.

“It was for a purpose mother-I was always meant to marry for allegiance”.

“I hate that you have done this for me-“ replied Rhaenyra.

“I do not. You are my mother and my future Queen, I would see myself from this world if it meant you were safe” said Lucaela firmly.

“My sweet girl what a precious gift you are-“ exclaimed Rhaenyra as she pressed a series of kisses to Lucaela’s face.

“Aemond isn’t all bad mama-he makes me feel desired” whispered Lucaela blushing.

“I can see the marks of Aemond’s desire for you” quipped Rhaenyra.

“Mama” gasped Lucaela.

“Right, shall we get going. It’s almost time” said Rhaenyra brightly.

The sept was decorated beautifully, but it all paled in comparison to Aemond who was stood beside the High Septon.

He was elegantly dressed, his black tunic decorated with silver dragons and his Targaryen cloak tied loosely around his shoulders. His long hair tied back in its usual half up, half down style.

The horns signalled the beginning of the ceremony and begrudgingly Lucaela took Daemon’s arm.

“You look beautiful my daughter” muttered Daemon.

“Thank you, father,” replied Lucaela.

“Be mindful Lucy-Desperate men are dangerous” whispered Daemon as he nodded towards Otto and Larys Strong who were muttering to one another.

“I had assumed that the traitors would have been dealt with already”.

“In due time-I cannot wipe out half of the Kings council, we must be vigilant and strike when the cunts least expect it” said Daemon.

“Mother must be persuaded to remain in Kings Landing, returning to Dragonstone isn’t the solution” said Lucaela softly.

“I agree” uttered Daemon.

“Thank you for escorting the bride Prince Daemon. If you would be so kind as to wait for the Princess to remove her maiden cloak” said the Septon.

Lucaela undid the ties of her maiden cloak and handed it to Daemon who nodded respectfully to the Septon and took his seat next to Rhaenyra.

“You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection” said the Septon loudly.

Aemond removed the cloak bearing the colours of house Targaryen and draped it around Lucaela’ shoulders.

Aemond then took Lucaela’ hand and smiled as the Septon tied their hands together by a ribbon.

“In the sight of the seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one, for eternity. Now you may look upon one another and say these vows together” exclaimed the Septon.

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am his and he is mine from this day until the end of my days” said Lucaela, her lip wobbling slightly.

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am hers and she is mine from this day until the end of my days” declared Aemond loudly.

“The vows have been spoken. You may kiss your bride”.

Aemond hesitated for a moment before he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Lucaela’ lips.

“ñuhon” whispered Aemond as he pulled away (Mine).

The grand feast in the throne room of the Red Keep was a sight to behold, a dazzling display of opulence and extravagance befitting the union of two noble houses. The room was alive with music and laughter, the air filled with the tantalizing aroma of exotic dishes and fine wines.

Aemond and Lucaela sat side by side at the head table, their fingers intertwined as they shared stolen glances and whispered words of love. But despite the festivities that surrounded them, the Alpha inside Aemond was restless, his senses ablaze with the primal urge to claim his mate.

As the night wore on and the feast reached its crescendo, Aemond found himself increasingly unable to resist the pull of his desires. The mating bite on Lucaela's neck called to him like a siren's song, its intoxicating scent sending waves of arousal coursing through him.

Desperation clawed at Aemond's senses as he struggled to maintain his composure, the need to reclaim his Omega growing more urgent with each passing moment. But amidst the revelry of the celebration, he knew that they would need to wait until they were alone, until they could be together in the privacy of their chambers.

Suddenly Aemond’s senses sharpened, a strange scent tickling at the edges of his awareness. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but to Aemond, it was unmistakable.

Nosing Lucaela's mating mark, he inhaled deeply, his heart pounding with anticipation. And then he caught it—the faintest hint of milk, sweet and intoxicating, mingling with the scent of their bond.

With a surge of excitement, Aemond turned to Lucaela, his eyes shining with joy. "Lucy," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "You're carrying my pup."

Lucaela's eyes widened in disbelief, her hand instinctively moving to rest against her stomach. "Are you sure?" she asked, her voice filled with wonder.

Aemond nodded eagerly, his heart soaring with pride. "I can scent it as your Alpha, the scent of milk is unmistakable," he explained, his voice filled with excitement.

Tears welled in Lucaela's eyes as she processed the news, a radiant smile spreading across her face. "Aemond," she breathed, her voice filled with love and gratitude. "I can't believe it”

The Alpha inside Aemond surged with a primal delight, a fierce sense of pride and joy coursing through him like wildfire. To pup his sweet Omega mate was a dream he had scarcely dared to imagine.

As he gazed upon Lucaela, his heart swelled with love and adoration, his Alpha instincts urging him to protect and cherish her and their unborn pup with every fibre of his being.

With gentle caresses and tender words, Aemond showered Lucaela with affection, his touch a promise of the unwavering devotion and support he would offer her as they embarked on this new journey together.

As Aemond and Lucaela reveled in the joy of their news, their moment of intimacy was suddenly interrupted by the boisterous arrival of Aegon. With a mischievous grin, Aegon sauntered over, his eyes dancing with amusement.

"Well, well, well," he declared with a playful smirk. "I think it's time you two lovebirds got a room, don't you?"

Aemond's scowl deepened at his brother's teasing, but before he could retort, Lucaela gently squeezed his hand, a knowing smile playing at her lips. With a soft chuckle, she rose to her feet, her gaze locked with his.

"Shall we, my love?" she whispered, her voice laced with laughter.

Aemond's heart swelled with affection as he returned her smile, his Alpha instincts urging him to protect and care for her above all else. With a nod, he rose to his feet, his hand entwined with Lucaela's as they made their way out of the crowded hall

-Months Later-

In the dim light of the birthing chamber, Lucaela's laboured breaths echoed against the stone walls, her grip on Aemond's hand tightening with each wave of pain.

Aemond stood by her side, his heart heavy with worry yet brimming with pride as he watched over her, offering words of comfort and encouragement with every contraction. "You're doing amazing, my love," he whispered, his voice a steady anchor amidst the storm of pain. "Just a little longer, and our pup will be in your arms."

With each passing moment, Lucaela's strength grew, her resolve unwavering as she pushed through the agony with unwavering determination. And then, finally, after what felt like an eternity, their pup emerged into the world, a tiny bundle of life cradled in Lucaela's arms.

Tears welled in Aemond's eye as he beheld his newborn pup, his heart overflowing with an indescribable sense of joy and wonder. "He's beautiful," he breathed, his voice trembling with emotion.

Lucaela smiled through her exhaustion as she gazed down at their son, her fingers gently caressing his soft, newborn skin. "Aeron," she whispered, her voice filled with love as she spoke his name for the first time.

As Aeron let out his first cries, a sense of awe washed over them, a profound realization settling in their hearts. For even in his first moments of life, he emitted a scent similar to that of his father—Aeron was destined to be an Alpha.

As Aemond cradled his newborn son in his arms for the first time, his heart swelled with a love so fierce and profound that it felt as though it might burst from his chest.

"My son," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "My precious Aeron. My boy"

Tears welled in Aemond's eye as he looked upon the small, features of his son, the exact mirror of his own, his fingers gently tracing the delicate curve of his cheek. In that moment, he vowed that Aeron would always know his attention, his kindness, and his love and devotion.

"You will grow up strong and brave," he murmured, his voice a soft promise. "I will teach you to be honourable and just, to stand up for what is right and to protect those you love."

With each word, Aemond felt a sense of purpose settle within him, a determination to be the father his son deserved. For Aeron was not just his son—he was his legacy, his hope for the future, a symbol of the love and bond that he shared with Lucaela.

As the joyous celebration of new life echoed throughout the halls of the Red Keep, a solemn hush fell over the chambers of King Viserys Targaryen.

Beside him stood his loyal attendants, their faces etched with sorrow as they watched over their beloved King in his final moments.

“With a final, gentle exhale, Viserys' hand went limp, his eyes closing.

"Aemma," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper as he reached out through the darkness, his thoughts drifting to the wife he had lost so many years ago.

"Queen Rhaenyra of House Targaryen," he intoned, his voice carrying the weight of centuries of tradition. "The First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm."

With a graceful movement, the High Septon lowered the golden crown onto Rhaenyra's brow, the weight of it settling like a mantle of authority upon her shoulders. And as the crown gleamed in the dim light of the sept, Rhaenyra felt a sense of pride and purpose swell within her heart.

"And her Consort King, Daemon of House Targaryen," he declared, his words ringing out with solemnity. "May their union be blessed by the Seven, and may they rule with wisdom and justice for all the days of their reign."

A ripple of applause swept through the crowd as Rhaenyra and Daemon exchanged a knowing glance, their hands clasped together in a silent vow of unity.

In the quiet chambers of their quarters, Aemond stood watch over his mate as she recovered from giving brith. Beside them lay their newborn son, Aeron, his tiny form cradled in the warmth of his mother's embrace.

Despite the grandeur of the occasion unfolding within the walls of the Red Keep, Aemond had made a solemn vow to remain by Lucaela's side, his protective instincts as an Alpha driving him to ensure her safety and that of their pup.

And so, as the sound of cheering crowds echoed through the castle walls, Aemond and Lucaela remained cocooned in the quiet sanctuary of their chambers, though they may have missed the pomp and pageantry of Rhaenyra's coronation, Aemond knew in his heart that their absence was a small price to pay for the precious moments they shared as a family.

But as Aemond gazed out of the window, his thoughts were consumed by the weight of uncertainty that hung heavy upon his shoulders. With Rhaenyra now crowned as Queen, the future seemed more uncertain than ever before.

Would their lives be in jeopardy under her rule, or would Lucaela's assurances of her mother's intentions hold true?

The memory of his grandfather's warnings echoed in his mind, a haunting reminder of the dangers that lurked in the shadows. Otto Hightower's schemes had been thwarted, but the threat to their family still lingered, a dark spectre looming on the horizon.

Lucaela stirred from her slumber, her presence a comforting balm amidst the storm of his thoughts. As he turned to look at her, her eyes fluttered open, and she reached out to take his hand in hers, her touch a silent reassurance of their bond.

"Are you alright, my love?"

Aemond forced a smile, though the worry still gnawed at his heart. "I'm fine," he replied, his voice strained. "Just-thinking."

Lucaela's brow furrowed with worry as she squeezed his hand gently. "Whatever happens, we will face it together," she said, her voice filled with determination.

As Daemon sat next to his wife, his sharp eyes trained on the trio of men engaged in hushed conversation across the room. Otto Hightower, Larys Strong, Jasper Wylde, and Tyland Lannister—men whose ambitions and treachery simmered beneath the surface, threatening to undermine the fragile peace of the realm.

As Daemon's gaze met theirs, they offered him a hesitant smile, a silent acknowledgment of their unease of what the future would bring. But Daemon remained stoic, his expression unreadable as he raised his goblet of wine in a silent toast.

The time had come to confront the traitors who sought to plot against his wife, Queen Rhaenyra. With a sense of purpose coursing through his veins, Daemon wrapped his hand around the pommel of his sword, the weight of it a comforting presence at his side.

The blood of the treasonous cunts would serve as a warning to all who dared to oppose Rhaenyra's rule. With steely resolve, Daemon vowed to root out the rot that festered within their midst, to ensure that justice was served, and the realm remained united under his wife's rightful reign.

As he took another sip of wine, the taste of it bitter upon his tongue, Daemon knew that the road ahead would be fraught with peril. But with his sword in hand and his wife's reign to defend, he would stop at nothing to protect what was rightfully hers.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond fic #aemond x oc #aemond x original female character #hotd fic #aemond one eye #aemond #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #hotd smut #hotd #alpha omega

136 notes · View notes

pure-oddity · 2 months

Text

Worth the Trouble

Simon/Ghost x Mean!fem!Reader

Warnings: slightly toxic? Reader is verbally mean and ghost Def manipulates the situation so he can have the missus come see him. PiV , Smut MDNI

“Heard LTs lost it, goin around on a rampage.”

“Just about near it. Price thinks he's injured and trying to downplay it. Won't tell him much aside from ‘I'm fine’. Hell for all we know hes just got a man-cold”

“Ach, the poor bastard”

Gaz snorts and continues with the next set, Soap checks for signs of struggle or strain before continuing (a dutiful gym buddy)

“Heard he blew some recruits ear out.”

“Think he backed out entirely, can't blame him - if I weren't already knee deep in this shit I'd tuck tail and run from Ghost”

“You n me both. Well. I did always have a taste for trouble. Probably woulda sought him out and he mighta strangled me.” he muses happily imagining his Lt tossing him around.

“Surprised he hasn't already “ gaz laughs, his eyes determined through the final pushes.

Soap laughs at that, thinks his lt has gotten close once or twice.

“Don't worry much about it though” gaz grunts.

Soap meets gaz's eye, watches a bead of sweat trickle down into his hair line.

“Why not?”

“Captain says he's calling in the secret weapon. Going nuclear.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Johnny questions, thinks of what could possibly be nuclear in regards to Ghost.

“Dunno. But I guess we'll find out.” Gaz finishes, setting the bar back in place and sitting up with a groan. He gives a sniff to his shirt and audibly gags.

“Yea that's rank, you wanna hit the showers?”

“Sayin I stink Garrick?”

“Sayin we should hit the showers”

“Cheeky cunt”

Soap follows his fellow Sargent to freshen up in the shower block, a stealthy sniff to his armpit solidifying his choice in joining.

The issue of the ornery Lieutenant momentarily forgotten.

—----------

He always knew price had an easy time with the ladies, but to parade one around so freely - a young woman at that?

“Well well, did price finally let you out his basement? I knew he had a pretty bird caged away somewhere!”

He reaches out a rugged palm and his smile is all boyish charm.

“Names Soap, nice to meet you bonnie”

She doesn't respond and doesn't move to shake his hand. Her arms remain seated within pockets of the leather jacket she adorns. Just continues to chew a wad of gum, sizing him up like one would an enemy. She looks bored, mildly annoyed.

He can't feel too upset over the snuff, the ample amount of cleavage on display makes up for it.

“Not the sociable type? No problem, work with one of those - I'll break you down”

She looks at price now, who - soaps noticing - looks like he swallowed a lemon laced with depression.

“MacTavish. This young lady is not my bird - lovely as she is - but she is the solution to our problem.”

For once Soap is speechless. Realization kicking in suddenly and with a force so strong his jaw drops.

“.....is that why he's pissed?? Lads gone without a bit of pussy and he's lost the plot? “

“MacTavish”

“Just sayin! Sorry lass, don't mean to be crude” he does mean to be crude actually. He is crude, but usually he waits till the second date before parading that fact around.

“......let's just get this over with. Fuckin bullshit for you to pull me out here. again” She grosses, looking miffed.

“Right, yes. Again, I do sincerely apologize- I wouldn't if I had another option”

“You're his captain, just order the fucker to act right” She scolds him, dissaproval evident in how she sizes him up.

“Unfortunately my lieutenant is a master of malicious compliance. Sweet as sugar with me, but a menace to anyone else.”

She sighs something resigned and annoyed. He watches as she blows a small bubble and pops it with a sharp click. Her brows scrunched and nose wrinkled into a sneer.

“Are…are you actually here to - do I get something like this if I start throwing a fit?!”

He eyes the woman next to his captain as she walks past him, seemingly familiar with the layout of the building.

“MacTavish. Shut up.”

“Yes sir.”

A brief pause

“Is it cause he's a lieutenant? Do I need to be a lieutenant?”

“Give me 50 Sargent MacTavish “

“Yes sir.”

He drops quickly and works through the 50, counting quickly before springing back up and towards the direction his captain and mystery woman left. He catches up to the tail end of their conversation.

“-he won't come out”

“really. Have you tried, I don't know, kicking the door in?”

“No. A bit extreme don't you think?”

He watches as she walks to the door, examines it, and he thinks ‘no, no way’. Watches as she turns and braces herself against the doorframe and thinks ‘Oh she's insane’ as she picks her foot up and slams it back against the door with a solid thump.

She gets 4 in, he notices the damage to the door grows steadily - the odd tinge of arousal at the unhinged behavior of this woman.

Feels his stomach drop to his knees when the door is thrust open and she's dragged inside the darkness.

The door is hardly shut when the screaming begins.

His captain waits patiently while he looks towards him and the door.

His LT is loud but she's managed to be louder. He can't make much out from how fast everything is said, muffled through the slightly askew door

“-acting like a fucking toddler!”

While this isn't his particular brand of dirty talk, he supposes it makes sense for the ghost to want a heavier hand.

Too heavy, it would seem. The loud thump is jarring, enough so that he springs towards the door. Price grabs him, handles him into his side with a fierce look and a sternly mouthed ‘no’

The screaming had stopped. The silence is deafening. Johnny thinks at least one of them is dead. A woman that crazy probably wouldn't go down that easy, even against a ghost.

His body flinches when the door opens, he expects a limp hand to flop out horror movie style- heavily surprised to find the lass perfectly intact, not a hair out of place.

He peeks in the open doorway to see Ghost knelt in a way that can only be described at revenant. He sits at her feet, face pressed to her stomach while he clutches her body to him. she has a hand on each of his shoulders and glares down like an angry God.

“We'll be in the infirmary captain, he's got an infection. Stupid fuck.” She slips from Ghosts grasp with some struggle, swatting at clutching hands as she commands him “up”

Ghost, much like his namesake,rises like the dead and slinks out of the shadows of his room and into the light. He looks, oddly pleased(downright giddy) for a guy just pronounced a ‘stupid fuck’.

He watches as the fury marches towards the medbay, her hellhound shadow tight on her heels - might have even carried her if she didn't look as rabid as she did.

“Captain?”

“That's Doll, Johnny. Ghosts leash, and Simon's keeper. Try to annoy her less yea? She sends ghost after you and there'll be fuck all I can do to stop him.”

“Heard…..doll? Really? I think of a doll, I think sweet and porcelain. Not, pissy with a heavy heaping of crazy. She looks like the type to cut brake lines.”

“Yea well, just don't let her know which car is yours and you'll be fine.”

“Sure she won't just cut them all?”

He sighs, something heavy and worn.

“I'm hoping she's forgotten where we keep them.”

—-------

“Hi just him today, thanks.”

“Oh um, and you are?” Doctor Nicole has seen a lot. Hasn't seen this yet. Might see more if spouses were more common on base.

“Im his voice currently. And his brain. He's not smart enough to use either on his own to tell you about his infection. Left leg, by the way.”

“Oh well. Oh. Um. I - I'll have you hop up on the bed then lieutenant! I'll take a look and. And fix that.”

He doesn't move, stares at the woman(his voice and brain, apparently) like she's the only one in the room - in the world.

His world groans and throws her head back - he chuffs.

“Listen to the fucking doctor , on the bed. Now.”

His steps are heavy and solid as he seats himself on the edge of the bed. Thighs spread and hands limp between his legs. He looks like a hunched beast eyeing his next meal.

The doctor finds that having her keep his attention is better than having it herself.

“Well. Uh, left you said?”

“Yeah. Calf area - knife probably? Something sharp.”

“Well then, uh , lieutenant? Are you able to, to roll your pant leg up for me to see? Or is the pain too severe?” she prods gently, he doesn't respond.

“Roll up your pants.” like a marionette with strings tightly wrapped around her fingers, he moves to roll up his jeans to reveal the sickly wound.

“Oh yeah definitely an infection. Odd for you lieutenant, usually you're better at catching this.”

The woman scoffs and slumps in her seat. He leans towards her as she sends him a scathing look.

“He's a fucking man child. Threw a tantrum to get what he wanted and now he's being pampered.”

“Mhm.” The affirmation is the most sound he's made since coming in here.

“Well I'll just. I'll just get this taken care of” Nicole stumbles put, feeling like an intruder.

“ ‘Priciate that doc. Don't be afraid to make it hurt.” Her tone is tinged with sadistic hope.

“Oh I. I'd never intentionally hurt someone under my care - that's unethical “ the military may not be the most ethical, but she's damn sure going to try to be.

“Pity. He'd deserve it, letting it get this bad-willingly might I add.” She snips at him , face scrunched.

He hums something delighted, and the doctor wonders if she should order a psych evaluation. Remembers the 141 are notorious for dodging said evals and dismisses the thought entirely.

If he likes when women are mean and degrade him, that's his business.

He sits still, moving only when told by the woman in the chair who's now playing on her phone.

He stares at her intently, glares at the phone occasionally. The doctor finishes quickly, grateful that the infection was only in its earliest of stages.

“Okay so I'm prescribing a round of antibiotics, I noticed that you have an allergy to penicillin so I'm giving you doxycycline." She writes the perscriptipn down quickly, grabs a bottle stocked preemptively for cases like this.

"Take it with a meal twice a day every 12 hours until the bottle is empty. Come back within a few days just to make sure it's progressing and then again when the bottle is empty.” She types in a quick series of notes notating the lieutenants upcoming appointments.

“He'll be here. I'll make sure of it” there's a bitter edge to the woman's words, the doctor wonders how anyone could stand to be with someone so angry.

“God I hope you do” ghost groans out, threat either going over his head or straight to his crotch.

The doctor flinches, forgetting the lieutenant capable of speech.

“Well thanks for the help. I'll be getting him back to his captain.” the woman hops up and walks towards the door.

“Oh uh, have a g-good one!”

She smiles politely, drops it quickly when she eyes the once again silent wraith behind her

“Let's go, it would be rude to make your captain wait.”

He nods and follows along after her, like a deformed elongated shadow.

An odd couple, the doctor muses. But not the oddest she's seen. Not even the weirdest.

Another soldier bursts in, she hears the words ‘snake bite’ and ‘penis’, wishes she was stuck back with the ghost and his guide.

—-------

“You alright then, lieutenant? Everything sorted?”

“Affirmative sir. I've got the prescription, doc cleaned me up and changed my bandage. “

“Good. Thank you for coming, Doll.”

“He only acts like this because you let him, you know.”

“I do. But sometimes it's easier to go along the path of least resistance. Trying to argue with a stubborn mut, or handle the fury of his actual commanding officer? I'll take you anyday love.” He finishes with a purr, noting the sudden tenseness in Ghosts shoulders.

“Careful, might put thoughts in a girl's head if you keep talking like that.” She notices too, but eggs the poor lieutenant on - smile a touch cruel.

“Oh? That all it takes? Not a fan of Mactavish then?” semi-joking now. He'd be a liar if he said having a pretty woman snark up at him didn't effect him at all.

“Prefer waking up with mouthful of English breakfast personally. Speaking of-” She turns towards ghost, her face still cold and indifferent as always.

“I'll be in your room. I'll only be here another hour and then I'm gone. Why don't you see if your captain can find it in his heart to dismiss you early”

She smiles something sharp and sinful, takes off in a run that makes Ghost body jolt - he looks like a junkyard dog choking himself on the end of his lead trying to get a bone just out of reach.

“Captain. May I be dismissed.”

“Well-”

“Captain.”

“Simon”

“Captain price, may I please be dismissed, sir”

There's a desperate edge john isn't used to. Something rabid, something hungry. A darkness kept caged wriggling through iron bars.

“dismissed, lieutenant “

The ghost breaks off into a sprint, and the hunt is on. Price can't think too much about how it ends, his trousers already too tight at his twinge of interest.

Similar shades of fucked up, the both of them.

—----

He's panting in your ear, groaning as his hips slap against and bruise your ass.

“fu-fuck. Come on, give it to me. Show me you're- fuck! Show me you're worth all the fuckin trouble - Oh god, simon!” You can't help but scream, hope he doesn't have neighbors.

His pace is mind-numbingly good, making up for the dry start in the beginning. Prepped just enough to fit him but not enough for the ache to be avoided. But he knows your body thoroughly , and with a few well aimed thrusts and a circles of your clit you're dripping down your own AND his thighs.

A mess on his bedsheets - he thinks of it as a present for later, you think you spoil him.

He fucks you like an animal, unhinged and hurried- like he's worried you'll get up and leave, worried you'll realize he's not worth the trouble.

He pins you further under his weight and changes the angle - groans at your wail of ecstasy .

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! You - you better not pull this shit again. I - I let you keep this fuckin job -please don't stop- let you play hero but -oh god, oh god - but don't-”

You gasp, moan something pained and drawn out as you come again along his rigid cock - muffling a scream into his pillow as he grinds up into the sensitive spots in your cunt to draw your orgasm out further.

“k-keep this shit up toy soldier, see how quick I put you back in the box!” You snarl , glaring at him over your shoulder. He groans deep and slams as deep as he can, unloading against the deepest parts of your hole.

He's still hard when he slips from you, wrangling you onto your back before slipping back in. Your legs fit nicely on his shoulders, and you're grateful for your flexibility.

You scoff. “can't cum lookin at a skull , switch to another one or take it off - might have a chance of getting me off then” you wonder how mean he'll be, wonder if he'll actually stop to find a different mask.

Dont have wonder long as he's quick to throw the whole thing off. The black grease around his eyes is streaked from the sweat - hair plastered to his forhead. He looks happy to see you.

“not - not bad! Might be worth all this after- after-after!” You buffer aloud. Like a skipping record, you'd be humiliated if it didn't feel as good as it does.

In fact. You should be mad at his constant interruptions, but he's persistent on fucking through your cunt and into your brain.

“Tell me. Tell me dolly. Tell me sweet heart. I'm worth the trouble, yeah? I'm your trouble right? Gonna keep coming back, keep coming on my cock?” He says it like he doesn't exist somewhere in your rib cage nearest to your heart. Like you don't already live in his.

“Yes, yes!” You promise, the one you will die before you break.

“Yes what?" He implores, a steady chant of 'keep me, keep me, keep me' running through his head.

“To all of it you fuck! Yes! All mine, my cock, my headache, my brute - fuck!” your own mind proclaiming that you'll keep him 'forever, forever, forever"

You're crying now, overstimulated tears as your thighs quiver on his shoulders.

“Yeah. Yeah. All yours, n' you're mine. All fuckin mine. Not Prices and not fuckin Johnnys” he snarls, bitter and possessive.

“Gotta act up, gotta cause a mess. Can't get you here otherwise. “ he continues, pace consistent to further along your impending ruin.

It's getting hard to keep up with the banter. Hate how he's still capable of talking while you're becoming goo.

“J-just fuckin wait till you're off deployment! Fuck!”

“Nu-uh, get too tight n mean when I do. Have to drag you here to give you your fix so you're sweet when I get home. You're my sweet girl right?” He coos mockingly.

You don't respond. too busy clawing red ribbons into his back.

“Right?” He punches your cervix now, enough to make you choke and bite into the meat of his shoulder.

You bite hard. Harder when he moans. You lick at the indents and nose into the hammering pulse at his neck.

You can tells he's close with how his tempo gets thrown off, how his huffs louder. Having forgiven him for making you drive all this way, you give the dog a well earned bone.

“Yours, your sweet girl. You just need to work for it a bit hm? You don't mind huh big guy? My big guy?” You whisper into his ear, whine into it in a way you know drives him crazy.

He comes with a shout, one you know the whole fucking base heard. You're too fucked out to care much, especially when the brute lakes down and settles his weight on you with a contented sigh.

He hums, a touch demanding and you roll your eyes. You rub a hand gently up and down his torn back, scratching gently at his scalp to feel his heavy sigh of contentment.

“You gonna take care of yourself now? Got everything out your system?”

He hums, tone non-committal - fucker. As long as price has your number, as long as the ghost stays restless - you'll be called in eventually. Not a matter of 'if', but 'when".

Thankfully you don't mind being the nuclear option. Not much anyway. Especially if this is what it gets you. A moment of peace, skin pressed against skin - soft breaths evening out against your collarbone.

'Yea', you think. 'He's worth the trouble.'

(End notes: the thump that was heard was actually Simon falling to his knees. Dude goes from 0-100 when it comes to love so he either ghosts(hehe) you or worships you.)

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #odd stories #simon riley smut #simon likes them a lil mean #it makes fucking them sweet taste better #also he just seems the type to enjoy letting some snippy little thing boss him around a lil #just a lil #fem reader

139 notes · View notes

shiyorin · 2 months

Text

Do Dreadnoughts dream of taking a bath?

#Inspired by PowerWash x Warhammer 40K and Roco.

#I love Dreadnought.

"Do Dreadnoughts dream?"

That is a question with no certain answer. On one hand, a Dreadnought is more machine than man, neural implants fuse mind to machine in ways bizarre to comprehend. Their armored carapace shelters only remnants of flesh, sustained through bionic might alone. By all rights, their cerebral cortex should have decayed long ago.

By such logic, one could argue conscious thought ends where flesh yields to steel. Sleep and its dreamscapes are biological realities, are they not? With only trace humanity remaining, why expect mental functions of slumber? But integrated into their armored shells are enough enhanced organs and neural implants to sustain bioniorganic functions far beyond mere biological viability. Isn't the nature of dream itself stems from biological instincts overwritten.

The pain was a dull ache, easily ignored after centuries entombed. But a new irritation assailed him now, crawling itches across flesh long denied sensation. Confusion, this body felt change, though it had lain inert as worlds turned. Deeper still came the oppression, lungs seizing as if drowning once more in bloody.

What trickery was this? Diagnostics reported stasis, all systems firing true. Yet the discomforts grew, phlegmy coughs racking the half-machine beast. Panic swelled, animal instincts long dormant rising within the eternal tomb. Then light, piercing the darkness behind closing lids. Sweet air rushed into ruined lungs, this labor easing at last.

His eyes snapped open to an unfamiliar realm. No armored bulk rose before him but limbs scoured by shrapnel and burned by virus-bombs. His original form, given once more against all reason, a gift or curse, he knew not. Unfettered he stood, wounds healed to bare scars across taut flesh. This was a dream, or something.

An uncertainty gripped him. What madness was this? To be returned to old flesh but feel no urge to battle, no call to crusade? A different impulse arose, foreign but ingrained, cleansing ritual performed eons past in youth. He walked uncertain, waters calling him to rites unseen by any in aeons untold.

Ribs still bore flecks of ceramite and plasteel patched within living shell. He paused before the waters, studying form that had known only warfare. Scars told their own tales, each etched upon memories kept alive through aeons in stasis. With care he entered in that, waters lapping old wounds as if in benediction.

There he lingered, letting cares and pains wash freely away. Muscles long locked in adamantium relaxed, tension fleeing in steam rising. For the first time in memory untold, no demands of duty or flesh assailed him. A feeling swelled within him, emotion locked beyond reach of mortal sensation. Peace, serenity swept over ancient minds as waters sloughed away cares of ages...

Pain pulsed through his battered form as consciousness returned. The fleeting peace of dreams melted away, centuries of enforced half-life onboard the Dreadnought crashing back upon ancient shoulders. Systems booted sluggishly, sensors recalibrating after solaris of monotony disturbed.

A hum escaped grille as servos whirred back to their duties securing crumpled flesh deeper than mortal sight could pierce. Outside clangs and grinding announced the diligent ministrations of tech-priests ensuring their perpetual charge clung yet to shadow of function. One voice carried clearly through armored carapace:

"Vitals stabilize in sector C-12 Magos. Neural links firing within tolerances." The Tech-priest's voice rang through microphones.

"Understood. Continue maintenance protocols and monitor for anomalies. This relic has served faithfully many centuries. Pray for the Omnissiah." The Magos's bionics buzzed in compliance. They ensured history marched on, whatever hulls preserved that march.

With effort, aged vox-grille creaked open. "Brother, I was dreaming." Static laced speech imparted by cobbled augmetics mere palliates for ravaged throat too ruined for basic sounds. The Techmarine's etheric sensors detected words nonetheless.

A static pause preceded Techmarine's reply. "Dreaming? Impossible, your neural engrams show only baseline activity."

Mirthless chuckle issued from loudspeakers. "Impossible, yes, But I dream... I'm taking a bath."

Silence answered as Techmarine puzzled over the incomprehensible scene. "The priests scrub your plating clean as monthly rite. Perhaps some synapse misfired."

Silence reigned for moments uncounted as ritual continued outside. Then, a final whisper from within. "Indeed. A... nice dream."

With that, consciousness fell back into lowest-level rest as painkillers suffused systems. The Techmarine watched monitors return to quiescent patterns, then signaled to close the Dreadnought once more. Its machine spirit's notions were beyond his. The armored tomb closed, and darkness reigned once more.

#shiyorin's writer #warhammer 40k #dreadnought

95 notes · View notes

pellucid-constellations · 7 months

Text

angstober (5)

Prompt: "Lessons in Failure"

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

A/n: This one is brought to you by Exile by Taylor Swift.

angstober masterlist here ♡

~~~

There was no winning, not anymore.

You knew that, Bucky knew that; the only difference between the two of you was the level of devotion you had to find a way to win. Even if that meant giving up your life.

Bucky wasn’t too keen on letting that happen.

“Look at me.” His voice was a low rumble, almost indecipherable under the sound of the quinjet. You tilted your head to the side, refusing his gaze. “Y/n, look at me.”

If you looked at him, you might crack.

“I know what’s going on in your head.”

He didn’t.

“If you so much as think about going into that building, I’ll know. It’s not happening.”

But it had to happen. This mission had given you an impossible ultimatum—save a few hostages, or save an entire city. It was clear what needed to be done, especially with the explosives so obvious. One unreachable, one easily dismantled. If you got inside that building, the one filled with a dozen innocent people, there was a chance you wouldn’t be coming out.

But you had to try. Steve would have wanted you to try.

“Damn it, y/n, look at me,” Bucky grumbled. Fingers met the base of your jaw, tilting your head so you were forced to adhere to his request. “You’re not going in there. I won’t let you. You can hate me all you want, but I’m not losing you.”

“What if it was me?” you whispered.

“What?”

“What if I was in there? You’d try, wouldn’t you?”

Bucky hesitated, brow furrowing. He took a step closer, slotting his foot between yours, chests touching. His breath mingled with yours as he tilted your head up an inch more.

“If you were in there,” he said, dangerously low. “There’d be enough time to get you out because I wouldn’t even look at the other explosive. I’d let an entire city burn.”

You took in a sharp breath, watching the way his hard eyes flitted over your face. He was analyzing, inspecting, trying to find a way to figure you out. But it wouldn’t be easy, not with your plans and the determination Steve had hammered into you before he left.

“But you’re not in there,” Bucky whispered, softening. He must have found what he was looking for. “And I’m gonna make damn certain you don’t end up in that building. We have our orders.”

You tore yourself from his grip, stomping away and angrily ripping open a weapons drawer down the quinjet. “You don’t understand. You still don’t understand.”

Knives made their way into the holsters at your hip in rushed movements. You zipped up pouches and loaded guns, all with a fire burning under your skin. Bucky was blinded by his love for you. You were blinded by the need to save as many people as you could. To you, one truth outweighed the other.

“There are people in there that mean something, Bucky. Everyone has a family—has people that are waiting for them.” Your burst of frustration interrupted the silence that had cloaked the quinjet. “Like how you would wait for me.”

You caught his gaze by accident, whipping your head around in an irate flurry, and paused. You were met with a brokenness you weren’t expecting. Bucky had looked angry before. His touch had forced you into compliance. His words had been laced with a malice meant for you.

But now… now he looked defeated. Final.

You took a few echoing steps towards him and played at a different angle, running your fingers along the stubble of his cheeks. When he let out a shaky breath, you slipped your touch back to his head and threaded your fingers into his hair.

“Like I would be waiting for you.”

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, gripping your wrist. He ran his thumb over the bone there and turned, pressing a kiss to the inside of your forearm.

When he opened his eyes again, he spoke. “God, I love you.”

It was the pain in his words that gave you a split second of doubt, the way his throat sounded tight and achy. There was a chance, a good chance, that you wouldn’t make it out of this alive. That Bucky would watch as the building went up in flames, you inside of it.

But then you thought about the hostages. The children. The innocent people crammed into a room with an explosive ticking beneath them. And you felt the shift in your being—the return back to duty.

“I’ll make it out of this, Buck,” you comforted. “We’ll get the first one done and then I’ll do the second. You can’t fit under the building, but I can. I’m the one that can save them.”

“I know, baby.”

Hope elicited a lightness in your chest. Bucky’s sad smile spurred you on.

“And then we’ll be ready to get them back home. The quinjet’ll be big enough. Or we can call for reinforcements and—”

“I love you, you know that?”

You paused.

“I love you, too, Bucky. Of course I know that,” you confirmed, shaking your head in confusion. “I’m not going to die, okay? I promise. I wouldn’t leave you here alone.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” he hushed, resting his forehead against yours, eyes shutting once again. “But I’ve seen this play out before. I can’t live with the ending. Wouldn’t survive it.”

You gasped at the sudden pinch at your back. It was sharp and strong and spread like a fire up your neck. You gripped Bucky’s shoulders, trying to find stability as you lost feeling in your legs. He caught you just as quickly, a metal syringe crashing to the floor.

“I’m so sorry,” was the last thing you heard as the ringing in your ears gave way to total darkness.

This would be a lesson in failure not so easily digested.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes #angstober 2023 #day 15

346 notes · View notes

heartsandhischier · 25 days

Text

Breaking the ice

andrei svechnikov x female!reader

summary - 1.2k words. Y/N and Andrei are about to make their first public appearance of their faux relationship part 2 of The Pretend Play

author's note - omd I've already outlined this series to a 10 part series... getting a bit too caught up in this Russian man

warnings - none i think

It was the night of Andrei’s crucial playoff game. The chilly evening air did nothing to cool the simmering tension between Andrei and Y/N as they made their way to the bustling arena. It was their first public outing together since the arranging of their faux relationship. Y/N, despite her visible discomfort, wore Andrei's jersey, the number 37 standing out boldly against the fabric, a symbol of her reluctant role in this charade.

In the car, the atmosphere had been thick with their mutual resentment, their conversation peppered with barbed comments and thinly veiled annoyance. "So, how many hours of my life am I sacrificing to the gods of ice tonight?" Y/N had asked with a heavy dose of sarcasm, her eyes rolling so hard Andrei thought they might get stuck that way.

"Hockey games have three periods, each 20 minutes long, but with breaks and potential overtime, who knows? Could be your whole night," Andrei replied dryly, his focus on the road but his mind racing with the implications of their public debut.

"And it's going to be cold, right? I mean, it's an ice rink. Couldn't you play a sport in a more comfortable climate?" Y/N continued, her complaints a verbal manifestation of her reluctance to be part of this spectacle.

"It's not the Arctic, Y/N. You'll survive. Besides, you're wearing my jersey. Consider it a... personal heater," Andrei shot back, the corner of his mouth twitching in what could have been the start of a smile under different circumstances. "You might actually enjoy it if you stopped complaining for a minute."

Y/N huffed, crossing her arms over the jersey that draped loosely over her frame. "Oh, please, like I'm really going to understand anything that's happening. I just don't get why I have to be there if I don't even follow the sport."

"Because you're supposed to be 'the supportive girlfriend,'" Andrei said, emphasizing the last two words with air quotes, his eyes briefly meeting hers before returning to the road.

The bickering had ebbed as they neared the arena, replaced by a tense silence that spoke volumes of their current state of affairs. They were two individuals tied together by circumstance and necessity, each bearing the weight of their roles with a mix of disdain and resignation.

As they stepped out of the car and into the view of waiting cameras and eager fans, Andrei could feel Y/N stiffen beside him. He offered his arm, a gesture meant for the watching eyes, and after a brief hesitation, she took it, her grip on his arm surprisingly firm.

The flash of cameras and the murmur of the crowd greeted them as they made their way inside, their smiles practiced and their steps measured. "Remember, just smile and wave. Stick to the script, and we'll get through this," Andrei murmured to Y/N, his voice barely audible over the noise.

"Script? I wasn't aware there was a script for pretending to enjoy watching people chase a puck on ice," Y/N whispered back, her voice laced with a mix of humor and bitterness.

As they approached the grand entrance, Andrei leaned in, his voice low but firm. “Hold my hand,” he instructed, a blend of request and command. Y/N’s initial reaction was one of surprise, her brows knitting together in confusion. Yet, his rationale, whispered in a hurried breath – “You wanted me to step up, right? ‘If we’re going to sell this lie?” – prompted a reluctant compliance. With a soft sigh, she placed her hand in his, their fingers intertwining.

The red carpet that adorned the arena’s entrance was a sea of flashing lights and eager faces, the fans’ excitement mirrored by the curiosity swirling around Andrei and Y/N’s relationship. Despite the turmoil of emotions beneath the surface, they navigated with grace, their smiles carefully curated masks worn for the world to see.

As they pause for photographs, the press urges them for a display of affection, keen to capture a moment that would headline the next day's gossip columns. Feeling the weight of expectation on her shoulders, Y/N turns to Andrei, whispering a challenge masked as a flirtation. "Let's see if you're as good at hockey as you're at kissing," she says.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Y/N bridged the gap between them, pressing a kiss to his lips. It was a bold move, surprising Andrei. The cameras flash frantically, capturing the moment from every angle. The kiss, though and part of their act, sends a ripple of excitement through the crowd, and for a moment, blurs the lines between their public facade and private discomfort.

Andrei, caught off guard by Y/N's audacity, can't help but respond to the kiss with a genuine spark of admiration for her boldness. As they part, he looks down at her, a new sense of respect mingling with the complex web of emotions he harbors towards her. The crowd cheers, delighted by the display, and for a fleeting second, Andrei forgets the world watching them.

Following this electrifying prelude, Y/N was ushered to her seat by Andrei's PR manager, ensuring her smooth transition through the still-buzzing crowd. The arena was alive with anticipation, the energy of the fans a pulsating backdrop to the unfolding drama on the ice.

The match was a nail-biter, the Hurricanes and the Flyers locked in a dance of skill, strategy, and sheer will. Andrei's focus was laser-sharp, undeniably influenced by the presence of Y/N in the stand. Her support, whether real or part of their elaborate ruse, fueled his determination.

When Andrei scored, the arena erupted into cheers and applause, a wave of collective joy sweeping through the crowd. Y/N was on her feet, cheering along with the masses, her earlier doubts and pretense of their situation momentarily forgotten in the genuine thrill of the moment. Their eyes met across teh distance, a silent exchange that carried the weight of words and emotions.

The jumbotron, ever watchful, captured Y/n’s animated reaction, her image filling the screen for all to see. Andrei, glancing up at the replay, was struck by the sight of her genuine smile – a smile he realised he had never truly seen until this moment. The sight of her, so vibrant and unrestrained in her joy, sent an unexpected flutter through his heart, a momentary skip in its rhythm that he couldnt quite comprehend.

As the finals buzzer sounds, signalling a hard-fought victory for the Hurricanes. The atmosphere became electric. Andrei was soon engulfed by his teammates, their shared euphoria palpable in their jubilant celebration. Yet, amidst the chaos of victory, andrei’s thoughts lingered on Y/N. as the team commenced their victory lap, he sought her out in the crowd, their eyes meeting once more. For a moment, it was as if they were the only two people in the arena, her smile is genuine, her applause enthusiastic.

After the game, Andrei finds Y/N waiting for him outside the locker room. The game had transformed the awkwardness of their initial interactions into something more fluid. “You’re pretty good at this thing,” Y/N quipped, her tone light, teasing, yet underscored with a hint of admiration.

Andrei, still riding the wave of adrenaline and unexpected sentimentality, responded with genuine humility. “Thanks for being here,” he said, his voice carrying a warmth and sincerity that reflected his gratitude.

“Well, it’s not like I had a choice,” her playful retort was met with laughter from them both, a spontaneous moment of unity that felt strangely right.

#andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov fic #andrei svechnikov imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fanfic #hockey fic #hockey fanfic #canes fanfic #canes fanfiction #carolina hurricanes fanfic #carolina hurricanes fic #carolina hurricanes imagine #andrei svechnikov x y/n

79 notes · View notes

ch3rryc4ndy · 1 year

Text

Can’t Get Enough

Relationship - Boyfriend Haechan X Fem Reader

Genre - Smut & Fluff

Summary - Your attention loving boyfriend needs you to make his day better with your pretty tits that he loves so much

Warnings - nipple play, biting, thigh riding, praising, dry humping, slight fingering (f), teasing, make out sesh

[⭐︎ Request]

₊‧.°.⋆🫧•˚₊‧⋆. ₊‧.°.⋆🫧•˚₊‧⋆. ₊‧.°.⋆🫧•˚₊‧⋆. ₊‧.°.⋆🫧•˚₊‧⋆. ₊‧.°.⋆

“Y/nnn” I hear the voice of my boyfriend boom into my room. I smile at the feeling of his hands running up my shoulders “where have you been” he pouts as he pressed a warm kiss onto my cheek from behind.

“A little tired from practice so I came to rest” I nod as I lean back onto the couch and return the kiss. I notice his eyes linger on my chest, my tank top exposing my cleavage a little more than usual.

“How was practice with the girls?” he asks softly as he drops between my thighs and nuzzles himself between my boobs “good, just a lot harder moves compared to their previous choreography. Ningning kept getting frustrated when she couldn’t get a move right” I chuckle as my hands tangle into his hair.

I’ve been working as a choreographer for SM for a few years now. The teasing from the groups about my age was always a little annoying but you get used to it. I started working for SM when I was 20 and now being 22 I’ve learned a lot from everyone here.

“She’s hard on herself most of the time” he sighs as his hands run up my hips “I know, she ended up getting it right after a few tries so all was good at the end of the practice” I nod.

“How’s your day been?” I coo as I feel his hands pulling my top up slowly “good but could be better”

“Better how?” I shrug “you could take this shirt off” he nods in a overly dramatic pout “mmh” I hum with a raised eyebrow. I can see his patience fading away as I continue the long hum for a few seconds.

“Fine” I smile as I lift my shirt over my head. Haechan squirms at the sight of my tits in the bra he bought for me “love you in this but I need you out of it” he whines as his hands run up my back and unclip my bra.

“I love you so much” he whimpers as his hands rub up my thighs with his kisses sloppily scattering on my neck. He pulls back, his mouth hanging open as his eyes roam my chest “love you too” I pant softly.

His mouth latches onto my breast, his tongue swirling softly around my nipple. His index finger rubbing small circles onto my other nipple as he pinches softly. My back arches from the pinch, the mix of pleasure and pain making me squirm.

I feel my pussy throb from his small grinds onto my lace panties. “Bet you’re gonna be soaked” he smiles onto my chest. His hand snaking between my legs as he softly pats 2 fingers onto the wet spot on my panties.

He clicks his tongue in a smile “knew it”

Needy whines and moans leaving me as his small touches make me feel like I’m on cloud nine. His mouth laps at my breasts, his sucks getting more aggressive as he holds me down by the hips.

I try and cover my mouth as my moans grow louder. “No no no” he coos as he grabs my wrists and pins them onto my sides. “Let me hear you. Let me hear those pretty sounds you make” he hums.

I feel my wetness drip down my folds as he bucks his hips into me. My body begging for his touch, his fingers pulling at my panties slowly as his middle finger rubs my cunt.

“Please” I whine as he slowly scissors my fold. My hands gripping onto the couch as he continues to lap at my tits. Low purrs and moans leaving him as he needs my thighs.

“Please what?” He smiles “need you in me please” I whine as I tug at his jeans “no” he pouts as he smacks my hands away causing me to whine louder. “Trust me ok?” He coos. I nod weakly in compliance as he bites down onto my neck.

“Let me take care of you” he purrs. His tongue rubs slow circles onto my neck, biting and sucking softly as he needs breasts. My fingers rubbing the nape of his neck causing him to shiver as I pull his head back and kiss him hungrily.

My hands caress his hair as I circle my tongue onto his lips, planting a soft kiss on his puffy pink lips “your perfect” he purrs. Both of our lips and tongue gently lap at each other as saliva strings back from the messy kiss.

Our breaths get heavier and our whines getting louder from the love filled kiss. Our bodies pinned to each other but still needing to be closer. “Please haechan” I whine louder as his mouth latches back down onto my chest.

Haechan sighs and lifts me onto his lap, his hands massaging my lower back as he contemplates what to do. His fingers snake down to my panties, curling his fingers around the fabric and dragging them down slowly. He tucks my soaked panties into his pocket, kissing me softly as he moves me onto his thigh.

“Ride my thigh baby, if you want so bad have it” he pouts. “Need you in me hyuck not this” I beg as I tug at his jeans. “Always so needy. It’s either this or you get nothing. The choice is yours” he coos.

I whine in disappointment but take what I can get. His lips latching back into my nipple yet again and biting softly. My hips runt on his thigh, his denim jeans rubbing on my pussy as he sloppily sucks on my boobs. “Mmh” he whimpers shakily as I cling onto his shoulders.

My clit finds the perfect spot, a ruffle on his jeans making me grind harder as I feel myself throbbing on his leg. “Bunny fucking yourself on my thigh? You look so gorgeous in this position” he smiles.

My hair stuck to my face with my mouth open. My saliva dripping down my chin as his thumb circled and pinch my nipple. “O- m- haechan” I pant out shakily as my hips pick up the pace.

I shake in his arms. My body jerking and shivering as he sways my hips into his thigh. The sound of my wet pussy getting louder as I circle my hips “I got you I got you let it out” he purrs into my ear.

I ride out my orgasm, my knee softly hitting his cock as he sways me faster onto him. His eyebrows furrowing as my teeth pierce his plump lips. “Oh fuck oh fuck” he hisses as his fingers dig into my hips.

A loud relived moan spills out of his mouth as he cums into his jeans. His shaky breaths slowing down as we both come down from our highs.

My chest covered in light purple bruises and teeth marks. His lips swollen from my biting as strands of his messy brown hair stick onto his forehead.

“Can’t get enough of you baby” he purrs as he buries himself into my neck. His soft lips peppering sloppy kisses up my jaw and making their way onto my lips.

“Love you”

#haechan #haechan fanfic #haechan smut #kpop smut #nct dream #nct smut #nctzen #hyuck x reader #hyuck #hyuck smut #haechan fluff #haechan x reader #nct hyuck #nct haechan

664 notes · View notes

itoshi-s · 1 year

Text

@mimikage requested: rin + spit // no lukewarm love v-day event !

wk: 1.7k. cw: nsfw, fem reader (fem bodied + referred to as girl), spit play, dacryphilia tbh, just nasty nasty sex n rin aka what else could i put out at 5am ?? mdni

rin loves you like this the most - incoherent and delirious, high off the ecstasy that rolls through every nerve.

you were shameful about it once - the way your eyes would water and hips jolt against his own as the pleasure overwhelmed all your senses, leaving a white noise in it's wake. you'd gasp and shudder as his tongue pushed at yours, slick and hot, vibrating with the groan he let out when you went to turn your head away.

you used to rest a hand across your face, covering yourself up as you pressed the warmth of your cheek into the pillows in embarrassment, other palm pushing at his shoulder in defeat. s'too much, rin, you'd whimper pitifully between sticky sweet moans that he was quick to swallow right up.

messy. rin had to coax you into it - a couple saccharine words, murmured against your cheek; laced with gentle, lingering kisses and honeyed praises. you took him so well, after all, and you enjoyed it, didn't you? felt good, right? so why'd you hide this from him, deny him these pretty sounds and faces? he wants to see how he's making you feel - watch the pleasure spill over in crystalline tears, streaking down your heated cheeks; tumble out in wet sobs and drip down your jaw when your tongue desperately lolls out, fighting for a breath.

you're a darling little thing, desperate to please, eyes full of trust as they peer up into the turquoise pools that simmer with perhaps more desperation than you bargained for. please, baby. need all of my good girl, need to feel all of you.

once you allow it - the entirety of you, to him - you never want to go back.

it's overwhelming, the pleasure that melts each quivering muscle as you grip onto rin's forearm, keeping you caged underneath the broad of his frame. if it wasn't for the large palm splayed across your lower tummy, fingertips digging into the doughy flesh to keep your ass snug against his front, you would've gone limp.

"rinnie," you all but wail, wet and teary when the sound gets muffled by the pillow. "ah, oh god, rin!"

the airy squeals, dull sting of nails breaking his skin and slick, gummy feel of your walls as they drag along his throbbing length - it's almost too much to handle, rin thinks as his head drops to rest on your shoulder, clammy with sweat.

"mmm- y're feeling good, hm?" he slurs, mouth hot on your feverish skin. sensitivity spiking past all limits, you feel every languid flutter of rin's lashes on the crook of your neck, planes of sculpted chest pressing against your back that trembles in its sinful arch. "hah- tell me how my girl feels."

your heart jitters against your ribcage at the praise all the while a wheeze rips through your chest as rin draws his hips back, only to press back in - further, deeper, until every inch swells against all the right spots.

"yes, yes rin," you babble, fingers tightening around his wrist and other hand reaching back to grab at his nape and pull him closer, 'til his nose knocks against your jaw. "good, you're s'good to me."

he seems satisfied, or perhaps just half-conscious in his pleasure as well when he leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek, then another, and then some, until he tastes the salt on your searing skin.

you hiccup, syrupy and moist when rin's tongue laps at your tears - a pitiful display of the desire that runs too intense for your body to handle. your eyes roll back, face tilting, allowing him more space and inviting for more - the compliance, more unconscious than not, makes rin's heart leap out of his chest and cock leak heavily against your swollen cervix.

"fuck, yeah, 's it." rin breathes, choppy and lithe when he fixes the pressure his hand puts on your lower abdomen, igniting the familiar pull and tingle that has white glimmering in your vision. "feels so good i got you crying?" it bleeds into a coo as he moans, cock twitching when you nod hurriedly and peer up at him with that glossy, unfocused gaze that makes his lungs hollow.

the man grunts and leans up, all weight shifted to one hand splayed out next to your head as his hips angle to reach the deepest, neediest spots. you quiver in his grip, thighs twitching pathetically and throat spilling out sugared whimpers of his name between eager breaths.

"uh-huh, i know, baby. i know." it comes out as a grunt when his hand slides from the shuddering, soft flesh right above where the heat pools and sticks to your folds and throbbing clit. instead, it momentarily rests on your side, gently forcing you to your back just when his cock leaves the drooling warmth of your cunt.

you keen at the loss and arch your back off the sticky sheets, air just barely filling your lungs when you oh, so desperately choke on your sounds. rin hushes you, firm fingers digging into your sides when he manhandles your body between his legs with so much ease, it's as if you're weightless, and you just might be right now, in the heat of the moment, when his brain feels like cotton and vision tunnels on your blessed, soft features.

"c'mere, need to- taste, need'a taste." it's agitated, if not frenzied as he speaks - soaked with lust when he leans down, dark green strands of soft hair matted to his forehead. your fingers find their way through the damp bangs, pushing them out of his eyes and allowing a clear view of his most favorite sight to ever exist, before your hands just gently, carefully so cup his face, warm and pink with arousal.

your legs, as wobbly as they are, wrap around his hamstrings with ease, falling into their perfect spot to pull him close - so close - right when a thumb presses against the shiny plump of your lips. they part, obedient like it's second nature, and the blissful mewl gets muffled around rin's digit as the reddened head of his cock prods at your tight hole again, slipping against the silky folds before eventually easing in.

stuffed on both ends and perhaps feeling so full it might just knock the last living breath from your lungs, you suckle on the pad of rin's thumb, momentarily so until he pushes it down further on your tongue in a silent cue. your lips fall apart and the pink muscle lolls out, nearly dripping with thick saliva already, as if in anticipation of what's about to come - your favorite part, one that feels so intimate it might as well just be a forever seal between the two of you.

air hitching in your throat and soft little whimpers buried in your aching chest, you watch with lust blown eyes as rin parts his lips just slightly, the fingers gripping on your jaw tender yet tight. the steady and firm roll of his hips right against yours makes the room spin, and it feels agonizingly slow as he lets the wet and heavy muscle of his tongue press against your own just barely. you moan, dazed and treacly, and for a split second, rin's teal gaze finds your own - right before his eyes flutter close and the bubbly slick drips down into your awaiting mouth.

the taste is so familiar it aches - so him - it makes you keen for more before the needy thought can even spark, and rin groans against your lips. your throat bobs once when you swallow, a thin dribble of spit slipping just past the corner of your mouth and trickling down the curve of your jaw, soaking between rin's fingers that still linger in the spot.

before another hiccupy moan can tumble out to urge him on, your lover's jaw is quick to slack, cheeks hollowing just a smidge as he collects more of the lewd - just enough to spit it right back onto your tongue, barely a few beats later. it drools down and stretches between your mouths, and the sight in front of him might be more than sufficient to teeter him off the edge of the high that's creeping up.

the grunt that resonates somewhere in his throat is gravelly, almost, and he slides a thumb across the slobber on your jaw, making even more of a mess of your pretty, dewy face. "oh, fuck. my good girl, that's it."

the praise echoes in your ears and serves as ignition to the suffocating warmth that spills down your limbs. saccharine, needy gasps reappear on your lips, never satiated - not with him, never - and your mind spirals further down, until your head might swell with just the thought of rin, rin, rin. the downright sinful stretch of your velvety walls feels like vice around his cock, jerking with the buildup of his orgasm, and so rin straightens himself, grabbing at your hips to follow his.

he fixes the grip of your legs, still twitching and shaking with overbearing need, and thrusts forward, ripping the prettiest wet sound deep from your throat, where honey-laced cries rest and await their chance to praise him. it might be all too much, rin thinks when his thighs jolt with exhaustion that burns in the sturdy muscle, but the sight in front of him leaves no space for repletion - instead it urges him farther, until the grip on your hips leaves purple kisses blossoming along your delicate flesh and his knuckles turn white; 'til the pretty teal halo of his eyes rolls back when white hot pleasure washes over.

but even then, when your cries die out in your chest and milky white clings to your folds as rin catches his breath, the greed doesn't falter - perhaps, it never does, and never might at all.

not when you're still laid out in front of him, delirious and high off ecstasy - just how rin loves you the most.

#୨୧ 𝑁𝑂 𝐿𝑈𝐾𝐸𝑊𝐴𝑅𝑀 𝐿𝑂𝑉𝐸 #✧.* zaria writes #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi smut #blue lock smut #blue lock x reader #itoshi rin smut #itoshi rin x reader #bllk x reader #bllk smut #rin smut #rin x reader

683 notes · View notes

darklydeliciousdesires · 2 months

Text

La Dolce Vita - John Shelby/Cosima Changretta (OFC).

So, I decided to begin this new little series of mine, besties. It shan't be delivered in regular chapter form, but a series of one-shot parts that will tell the story of John and Cosima's marriage, beginning from their wedding day. I hope you enjoy it :)

Words - 3,682

Warnings - Each part will be adult only content, from swearing to eventual smut and violence. Minors DNI.

Part I - Inferno

The blood of a thousand men could stain a thousand streets, cold, hard warfare spinning out of control in a haze of spatter and gunpowder, yet sometimes all it took was the presence of a woman to end it all.

And it had.

It didn’t mean the woman in question had to like it, though.

“No.” The word fell from his lips with mild irritation as he took in the sight before him. “You will not wear black.”

Cosima didn’t even attempt to hide her distain. “Why not? This is a death, after all.”

Luca couldn’t help but feel entertained by her words, even though she was rapidly whittling him down to his very last nerve. “You are so dramatic, la mia sorellina.” She always had been. “It’s about time you were somebody’s wife, and you will make a good wife, too. Every man betrothed to an Italian woman should recognise how damned lucky he is.”

“And me?” Her cadence rose sharply, her voice bordering on shrill. “What about me, Luca?”

9:23am and already, he wished he’d had the sense to bring some aspirin with him. “You will do as you are told, Sima. And wear white while you do it.”

The silky drawl of her brother never rose beyond the smooth hush he spoke with, but his words packed the same punch as they would have had he yelled them. He was also the only person alive who she allowed to shorten her name. People had called her Cos in school, swiftly ending up with a slapped face for it. Her Italian fire had been lit pretty much since the day she’d been born. “I wish I’d brought mama with me now.”

His lip curled, a soft rumble of a laugh echoing his throat, sucking on the matchstick he pulled from between his lips as he pointed it at her. “We both know why you didn’t.”

“Yes,” she chirped, admiring her reflection in the mirror, “you’re paying.”

Again, she prompted his smile. Few did, really, save Anna Maria, his wife, as well as his sons, Joey and Guiseppe. “I am, cara mia. Listen, if you want the black dress, I’ll buy it for you. You won’t be married in it, though. Imagine if mama was here, eh? She’d be, ah, much more vocal than I about it.”

This was true. Audrey would have taken over rather than sitting quietly like Luca. “I’m beginning to think she’d fuss much less than you.”

He rolled his eyes. “Try on the next dress, for the love of god.”

Huffing and cussing in their native tongue, Cosima flounced back behind the privacy screen, getting herself out of the dress, the nearby assistant helping her into the white lace gown. Her face was a picture of utter contempt upon emerging, raising her middle finger when Luca quietly applauded her appearance.

“Perfect.”

“I fucking hate it,” she sneered, the assistant’s eyes bulging a little at her coarse language.

“Cosima, you would hate even the most exquisite of gowns, crafted by the finest of designers,” he pointed out, standing and walking to her slowly. He reached beneath her chin, raising it up, placing a little kiss upon her forehead. “You look beautiful. La belladonna. It is done.”

His word was final, and she knew this well. It did not mean she had to be quiet or graceful in her compliance, though. Being wed to a Shelby, after all they had done, the war that had seen the deaths of both her treasured brother and beloved papa, was not a fate she relished in.

Negotiations in order to cease the bloodshed and forge ahead in a new bond, running Shelby gin into New York with the assistance of her family and their connections had been sealed by a proposed joining of their families through marriage. Her marriage, to John Shelby.

How she had screamed and complained when Luca had informed her of this truce sealing union. Glasses and ornaments had been smashed in tempestuous fury, Cosima’s ire reaching the kind of decibels that had taken Luca and Audrey much effort and nips of gin to quieten, the youngest of the Changretta clan storming from her mother’s home, walking the streets, chain smoking in blind fury.

The only silver lining? At least Luca had not decreed that she marry the man who had killed her father, not that she actually could. For his sins, Arthur Shelby breathed no longer. Neither did Grace Shelby, nor Esme Shelby, the late wife of the man soon to be her husband, the gypsy beauty getting in the way of a hit meant for John on Christmas Day and lamentably not surviving it.

And Cosima thought her hand dealt was bad. For John, it was decidedly bleaker by far.

His brother was gone, his wife was gone, his sister-in-law was gone, and his fate was now bound to a person belonging to a family whom he couldn’t stand with any ounce of tolerance. Tolerance was what he had to show, though, in order to keep relations smoothed over, before anybody else ended up dead.

“It’s a fresh start for us all, John boy,” Tommy began, standing in front of his brother, straightening his tie. “I don’t expect you to be happy about it, but...”

“Good, ‘cos I ain’t,” he cut in with, his jaw tightening, refusing to meet his brother’s eye. “Esme is barely fucking cold, and you’ve got me marrying some wop bitch. Trust me, Tom. I ain’t fucking happy in the slightest.”

The elder Shelby truly had no comeback for that. He knew his actions were a slap in the face to John, to Arthur, to Esme and to the love of his life, but there was no other way around it. He didn’t plan on losing anybody else to a war that could be negotiated through. It had been tough to bargain, but peace had been restored finally, Tommy reasoning that scores had been settled upon both sides of the divide.

They were more than even. In fact, they truly weren’t, two lives on the Changretta side, three on the Shelby, two innocent women coming into the crossfire and dying because of it. He was not prepared to lose more. If he could also turn a very tidy profit while not losing more, then so be it.

Finally, he managed to catch the icy stare of his brother, Tommy squeezing his shoulders. “Give it time. At least you’re getting wed to an attractive woman. Could have matched you to a right scrag, but I didn’t.”

She could have been the queen of fucking Sheba for all John cared. Her beauty or lack thereof was neither here nor there. She wasn’t Esme, and that was all there was to it. “Gotta habit of this, you have, marrying me off to some bird I ain’t ever clapped eyes on until I get to the altar, all for the sake of keeping the peace.”

There hadn’t been an actual altar at his wedding to Esme, but this time there was no room for negotiation. The priest local to the district Cosima Changretta lived in had been given a hefty bung to marry them, regardless of the fact that John was a non-practising Catholic. Usually, Father David would have required he at least attend weekly mass for a few months prior to the wedding, but this wasn’t possible when the union had been set up to take place within the space of a week from its original incarnation.

Through his disesteem, John wasn’t blind to see the benefits of joining the families in order to broker peace, though. He just wished there was some other way, one that didn’t involve him forsaking his late wife’s memory, or literally getting into bed with a member of the very family who had taken three members of his.

With a red rose buttonhole pinned to his charcoal suit – those specific flowers at Cosima’s request – they headed out to the waiting car, ready to be ferried across Birmingham to the district of Bournville, to St Francis of Assisi.

“Holy shit, the waft of that bloody chocolate," Polly spoke from the back of the car, the famous Cadbury factory emitting the heady scent of it’s delicious confectionary. “Making my mouth water, it is.”

“Well, as long as the air smells like Dairy fucking Milk, all’s right as rain, ain’t it, Pol?” John muttered, watching the little black and white houses dotted along the main road pass them by. It was such a different landscape than the one he was used to, the village of Bournville so very picturesque and quaint.

Polly tutted. “Oi, less of your fucking lip, our John. Don’t make today any harder than it has to be by being a surly shit about it.”

“Yeah, but...”

She cut his protests dead with her usual blunt retort. “We know, for the love of god! You’ve vented your spleen so hard at this, I’m surprised you have one left! This isn’t ideal, but it’ll bring us peace and let me rest my fucking head easy at night, not worrying when the next of my fucking nephew’s is going to end up riddled with bullet holes. Now, put your fucking face straight. We’re nearly there.”

He could have begun his protests once more, vented at how it wasn’t right that he was being thrown into wedlock again just four months after his second wife had died, how at thirty years old, he shouldn’t have already had to attend the funerals of two Mrs. Shelby’s, but he knew it would serve him little good.

Arriving at the church, they made their way inside, John surprised to be greeted kindly by Audrey Changretta, who was standing talking to the verger.

“A lot of water has gone under the bridge, John. All I want going forward is for you to be a good man to my Cosima. Can you do that for me, love?”

His heartstrings were yanked upon hard, knowing how much his actions had devastated her. She looked weary from it all, the sparkle in her eyes non-existent. He’d never wanted her to be hurt in all of this, the teacher he held so many fond memories of, the woman he had steadfastly refused to murder in cold blood. “I can. I promise I will.”

She patted his cheek, smiling thinly. That smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, and for that he couldn’t blame her. “Thank you.” She exchanged nods with Polly and Tommy, the Shelby’s moving into the church, smiling to their family and friends as they passed the pews, the Changretta presence outnumbering them by about two to one.

He and Tommy stood to the side of the altar, Polly taking a seat at the first pew between Finn and Ada, the latter giving the groom-to-be a bolstering smile. It had little of its desired effect, John feeling a cold swirl of discomfort growing chillier by the moment. “Forgive me, Esme. I fucking wish this weren’t happening just as much as I wish you were still here, love.”

His deeply lamenting thoughts were banished by the sound of the organ keys pressed upon, the church filling with music as the congregation stood, Father David quickly shaking both his and Tommy’s hands before his focus shifted towards the doors, beaming as he watched Cosima escorted in by her brother. The bride looked exquisite in her white lace gown, her cascading veil shrouding her face, the dress very quintessentially Italian in fashion.

John didn’t dare turn around and watch her walk to him, only aware of her arrival at his side from the strong plume of Chanel perfume entering his nose, finally turning to see Luca gently lift her veil, kissing her cheek and whispering a few words in Italian to her. He then moved to John, surprising him by offering his hand.

“To famiglia, eh?”

“Yeah,” he coughed, shaking it. The Italian’s grip was like Iron, his face unflinching. There was no true warmth there. “To family.”

Luca moved to sit at his mother’s side, John finally letting his eyes fall to his left, taking her in for the first time. His throat tightened in an instant. He’d thought Esme to be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, the guilt of the fact that Cosima Changretta was the biggest knockout he’d ever witnessed hitting him hard.

As for his soon to be wife, when her piercing blue eyes found his, the sensation of her heart skipping on three consecutive beats made her feel a little nauseous for a moment.

He was gorgeous.

Why did he have to be gorgeous? It would have made hating him so much easier if he’d been ugly.

“At least I will have something nice to look at, while I’m throwing plates at his head.” She thought, turning to the priest and smiling as best she could, given the circumstances.

The ceremony was a long, tedious affair, the bride wishing for a traditional mass that bored the balls off John. He did well to hide it, though. What he failed miserably at was looking in any way, shape or form happy when they were pronounced man and wife, offering her a chaste kiss to the cheek, a speedy peck of non-affection. Cosima was relieved he hadn’t leaned to her mouth. She wasn’t ready for that yet.

Taking his arm, she walked back down the aisle as the newest member of the Shelby family, her eyes sad as she looked at her mother and brother. They smiled at her with loving pride, Cosima dropping her chin, lest they see the tears in her eyes as she walked alongside her new husband, a man she couldn’t stand. True, she knew nothing of John Shelby, other than what he’d had a hand in taking from her.

With every step, she had to physically prevent herself from gathering the bridal lace swathing her slender curves and running, back to Acacia Road, back to the family home. This was where she desired to be, out in the flower filled back garden tending to her roses, taking cuttings of herbs ready to be brought into the kitchen and tutored by her darling mother in everything from Carbonara to baked Ziti.

She longed for the scents of her mother’s pasta, to hear her father’s key in the door, his whistled tunes filling the homestead as she’d wipe her hands upon her apron and run to greet him. Her papa, the man she loved and respected the very most. Gone.

“You erm, you look beautiful, Cosima.”

His face did not match his compliment, Cosima looking up at her new husband, her face stony. “I know. Shame my dream wedding didn’t come with the dream groom, though.”

John sniffed, his eyebrow tilting a fraction. “Ahh, you might still get it yet. We can get divorced and give it another go with other people. Who knows? I could nail it lucky the fourth time around.”

Her eyes widened. “You’ve been married twice before?”

“Ar.”

“And what the blinking hell happened to them?” she demanded, wondering just what her brother had gotten her into, marrying her off to a man who was on his third wife.

“They died, if you must know,” he frowned, reaching the end of the aisle, the door opening, a cascade of confetti hurled at them from the throng of guests exiting behind them.

“Lucky them.” Her mutter was drowned out by the sound of happy cheers, or at least she thought it had been. Her new husband had heard it, though, wanting nothing more than to slap her in her rude mouth for her coldly delivered statement.

“Great, got myself hitched to a stunner and she’s a right nasty little mare.” he spoke, certainly loud enough for her to hear, releasing the hold upon her arm and moving to receive congratulations from his family. Cosima narrowed her eyes at him in his wake, turning to smile brightly at her friends, her hands taken in theirs, cheeks kissed, her heart thrumming with waves of sadness. A right nasty little mare. That’s what he thought of her, Cosima’s indignance burning brightly for a while, not able to reflect upon the fact that what she’d said had indeed been very spiteful.

At twenty-three, she truly should have known better. With two dead wives behind him and a bitterness that still lingered beneath the surface between the two families, she guessed he was likely as thrilled to be married to her as she was to him. An apology perhaps wouldn’t go amiss.

Once they’d posed for a few photographs, the bride and groom were shown to the waiting Rolls Royce Silver Cloud, John holding the door open for her, following her in and staring stonily out of the window as they pulled away from the church.

She felt awkward and ashamed of her words, moving her thumb back and forth over one of the large thorns the florist had neglected to remove from the bouquet of red roses. “John, I apologise for what I said, about your late wives being lucky. I only meant that... I don’t know what I meant, actually.”

She was met by a cold, two worded statement. “Fuck off.”

Deserved, to be fair. Predictably, Cosima let it spark at her kindling rather than rushing for water, though. “That’s impossible, now I’m your wife. Don’t bloody pout at me. I said something regrettable, but because of your family I don’t have Angel or my father any longer. You yourself are directly responsible for the former. If you hadn’t beaten him within an inch of his life, he wouldn’t have lay vulnerable in hospital, ripe for the plucking. And let’s not forget that scumbag of a brother of yours, who killed my papa.”

He tutted, chewing his toothpick with hostility. “Don’t act like you’re the only one who lost somebody you loved. Fucking gone right over your head, ain’t it? Because of your family, I lost me wife, brother and sister-in-law. We’re in the same boat, Cosima.”

“You started all of this. You could have just let Lizzie be happy with Angel, but no! You had to burn his restaurant to the fucking ground. What is it you dumb Shelby fucks say, hmm? By order of the Peaky Blinders, that’s it! Your way or the highway!”

Bile began licking at his insides. “Your brother weren’t good enough for Lizzie. She’s a good woman, and he was a fucking duplicitous shit. Didn’t even have the balls to use his real name for half his dealings. At least we stand by who we fucking are.”

Her rage escalated by the second, staring at him incredulously. “My brother had the sense to be clandestine, and you will not speak of him like you knew him! So, he partnered with your enemies, so fucking what? The way you Shelby’s conduct yourself, you make enemies left and fucking right! You took my family away from me for nothing. Nothing!”

John eyed her viciously, his eyes losing any trace of warmth. “They fucking deserved it, and you, you spoiled little wop bitch? You deserve nothing less than every fucking ounce of my contempt. We’re married in name only, believe me. Ain’t no way I’m gonna be a good husband to you, no matter what I promised your mom.”

“Fine by me!”

The air virtually crackled with their mutual distain, Cosima shuffling as far as she could get away from him, muttering cusses in Italian.

“I know what testa di cazzo means,” he spat.

“Good!” she fumed, “I want you to know I think you’re a dickhead!”

The reception was being held at a small hotel local to the church, Cosima storming out of the car and not looking back, fixing a huge, fake smile to her face as she was welcomed by the staff. Immediately, her eyes locked onto a waiter carrying a tray of champagne filled flutes, taking one and knocking it back. A second was reached for, John arriving at her side.

“Whiskey please, mate. Fucking large one.”

The waiter nodded. “At once, sir.”

They stood together to welcome their guests, both repelled by one another’s presence, going through the motions of everything. Cake cutting, first dance, spending as much time as they could away from one another. It was while John was seeking the solace of quiet and fresh night air much later that evening, standing on the rear patio of the hotel smoking a cigar, that he found himself joined by the last person he expected.

“Can I give you some advice, John?”

Turning to Luca, he raised an eyebrow, the tall Italian continuing. “If you want a quiet life with my sister, you need to keep her in the lifestyle she’s become accustomed to. I love that girl to her bones, but she’s a fucking spoiled princess.”

His eyes widened. “You can say that again.”

Luca’s mouth twitched, removing the toothpick he’d been idly chewing on. “My father bent to her every whim, being his only daughter. She was daddy’s little girl. Roses, diamonds, furs, French perfume, she loves all of that. You treat her good and she’ll be sweet with you. And make sure she has a garden. That kid lives for horticulture.”

Luckily, he was wealthy enough to provide such luxuries for his new bride, not that he wanted to. Not that she deserved even one of them. “Noted.”

He nodded, turning to leave his new brother-in-law to it, pausing suddenly as he pointed the toothpick in his grasp at him. “Oh, and John? She’s got a thing for hurling plates. Learn to duck.” Laughing to himself, he carried on back into the hotel, while John felt a prickle of annoyance at his statement, or rather how much pleasure he’d derived from delivering the news that Cosima was nothing short of a bad-tempered handful.

Standing out there alone, he did hope that one day he might see her as something different. Whether that day would come swiftly or not was anybody’s guess, though.

#john shelby fanfiction #john shelby x ofc #peaky blinders fanfiction #luca changretta fanfiction #john shelby smut #john shelby fanfic #john shelby fic #john shelby x oc #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic

65 notes · View notes

rustboxstarr · 5 months

Note

Hey! I was reading one of your stories and it was so good I immediately started following you <3

Anyways could you write a story about reader being flat (like no ass and skinny legs) and shes being insecure about it. So while Eddie and reader are undressing for sex she looks in the mirror to her body and Eddie asks what’s wrong and she tells? I kinda can relate to this so I would love a story like this 🫶🏻

You can change it a little bit ofcourse! Already thank you very much!!

❤️You're perfect.❤️

Summary: Alcohol is always set to cloud your mind, but some things will sober your right up. Especially when you suddenly realize you're actually going to have to show your biggest insecurity to your boyfriend.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Flat!Reader

Warnings: Smut, P in V, fingering (f receiving), cream pie (Eddie cums a lot) - hints at Eddie being insecure about his, squirting, insecurity, slight angst, fluff. Drunk sex! If that makes you uncomfortable DO NOT READ, consent is neither mentioned or implied in the writing but it IS consensual because I say so and I wrote it so *sticks out tongue* also I have never understood why people think its ok to write about high sex but not drunk sex? Like can someone please explain?

Wordcount: 4.1 k

A/N: Thank you for the request babes, I hope you like it ❤️

Also I highly reccomend listening to Destroy Boys while reading this, becuase I was and it was the closest vibe to drunk sex I could find, like why is there no good drunk sex music? Does anyone have any recommendations? because I'm sick of seeing Chase Atlantic everywhere.

Feel free to request, I love writing requests! ❤️

Love yas!

Check out my other works!

Your whole head vibrates with an alcohol induced haze, spinning you around and losing your touch with reality and all things surrounding you, except for one thing. Broad palms are on you the second you burst through the door of the Harrington basement, plush lips forcing against your own in passionate kisses. The door slams shut behind you as Eddie’s hands push your hoodie off your shoulders, he revels in the sound of your sugary sweet giggle as he stumbles over his own feet, desperately trying to kick his sneakers off without ever letting his hands leave your body.

A gasp whisps its way into the air as Eddie forces you against the door, the smirk painted across his face grazes your lips and it sends bolts of lightning down your spine, the soft sparkle in his eye that reflects the dim lighting of the small space as he gazes softly in your eyes prompting goosebumps to freckle your skin before his lips are on yours again. Your hands force his jacket down his arms and he chuckles as he tries to wriggle himself free of the leather.

His hand finds your cheek to pull you towards him again while the other plants a firm grasp on your hip, chipped nail polish scratches down his back as your arms circle him.

It’s all a mix of hot breaths and gasps as hands roam skin and tongues dance around each other, a mix of beer and vodka muddles on your tastebuds to accompany the fresh cigarette smoke that fills your senses when you breathe him in. All you can focus on is the way his body feels against yours, how his hands grip at your hips while yours rake through his curls.

But you quickly pull one away when you feel his grip snake around your waist, before he has a chance to plant a firm grip on your ass your fingers lace with his, guiding him up to palm at your chest in a frenzy.

You manage a second of relief at his compliance before both of his hands travel down your body, you're just about to slap them away before they have a chance to travel further south when you feel yourself being lifted into the air. You're too distracted by his lips finding yours again to dwell on the situation or even realise what you're about to get yourself into as your back smacks against the bathroom door before it swings open.

You land on the bathroom counter with a heavy thud, heavy breath escaping both of your mouths as they circle around your heads, drifting above you like the smoke in cartoons. His lips are on yours again, kissing with a furious and drunk passion as you feel callused fingers search for the hem of your t-shirt. There is not a single warning bell that goes off in your head, the bellkeep has gone to sleep with the amount of vodka mixers, shitty beers and tequila shots you downed just a mere minute ago upstairs with the rest of the shitfaced partygoers. Your own fingers find the hem of your shirt and you pull it up over your head, throwing it behind him to be found later. Those same callused fingers smooth over your cheeks as he cups your face and brings you in close, attaching his lips to yours after gazing at you with an expression that can only be described as love.

Your own hands wander to his shirt and he rips away instantly, letting you pull the black fabric off of him and discarding Ozzy’s face on the floor with your own t-shirt. Your hands explore his body, dragging your fingers up the expanse of his torso, from the soft patch of curls that form his happy trail, past the soft pudge of his stomach, to his shapely pecs and finally gliding over his shoulders, grasping onto them and pulling him back in. You only manage to revel in the sensation of his lips hard against yours for a second before they’re pulling away, the thick pad of his thumb forces your chin up as he starts trailing kisses down your neck, soft breaths echo around the practically dark room, save for the sliver of light the frosted glass window lets through.

His hands find your hips, gripping onto them as if to ground himself before they travel to the cups of your bra, palming desperately at your tits while a soft groans slips past his lips. “You don’t know how many times I’ve pictured these beauties, please babe, you- you gotta let me see them” there's a soft slur to his words but you're too distracted by the feeling of his hands against your body to care that neither of you are truly in a fit state to be doing any of this.

“Well how can I resist when you're asking so nicely” you chuckle, watching the dark pool of desperation that swims about in his irises. Within seconds his hands are at your back, undoing the clasp to the black fabric that hugs your frame and you're too caught up in this moment, being here with Eddie, to even let a shred of insecurity bubble up at the fact that he’s about to see your boobs, who are nowhere near up to the standard of small perky boobs. The thought of him being grossed out by how they sag from the weight doesn't even have a chance to cross your mind before a loud groan rumbles from the depth of his chest and his hands are back, gripping, palming and squeezing at anything he can get his hands on. “Fuck, ‘s- fuckin’ perfect” his words only bounce around in your head in one big jumble as you feel the warmth of his tongue swipe over one of your nipples. You feel as the skin tightens around the nub and that ticklish sensation of your nipples being erect as his lips wrap around it, skilled fingers swiping delicately over your other nipple, teasing you with the faintness of his touch. A strangled moan bounces around the room as his lips suction around you, tickling you in the strangest, weirdest, best way. No one had ever done this, and it was safe to say it felt super weird… but also earth shatteringly good and especially when the tingling feeling between your thighs -that had sat comfortable since you and Eddie has started whispering slurred words by each others ears upstairs- only grew in strength.

Your fingers tread through his curls as he moves on to your other side, treating your other nipple with the same insane pleasure as he had done before. Soon enough his kisses start trailing down, kissing between your tits, slowly and steadily moving down down down, and over your stomach (that tickles too, but not in the same way). He only grins up at you at the sound of your giggle. There are so many insecurities on display that, in the right headspace, would have you heaving with anxiety, but none of them manage to surface to the front of your mind as your drunk haze can only fixate on Eddie, Eddie Eddie Eddie. As he kisses down your head falls back against the wall, lolling on your shoulders to find the other end of the L shaped counter, you see yourself in the mirror and smile drunkenly at the picture it presents. Eddie kissing down your stomach, hands trailing up and down your torso as lust filled eyes watch your face.

Insecurity gnaws at you however, as your eyes drift to his torsos slotted between your thighs.

The alcohol induced illusion shatters, however, the second his nimble fingers find your belt buckle, suddenly you pull yourself up straight, pulling your waist away from him. The fog has cleared and you have sobered up within the matter of a millisecond and you stare with wide, fearful eyes at the mop of brown hair that suddenly moves. He stands up again from his sinking position to the floor and finds your eyes with his own worried ones. “What’s- what’s wrong?” It seems his own fog has lifted as he stares down at you, one hand coming to caress your cheek while the other smooths up and down your arm.

Your mouth opens, and then it closes. You find yourself at a loss for words as you stare up at him, dim moonlight shining around him, blurring everything else in the room, dark, misty eyes, glazed over with pure, unfiltered concern, soft pink lips tugged into a small pout, milky white skin glowing below clusters of freckles that travel from his face and down the lengths of his arms, each one further from the other. God he’s perfect. Why would you ever want to ruin this moment?

“Nothing” you breathe a strained chuckle, “Just uh, backs, hurting” you slink your hand between yourself and the wall and make a show of stretching out your back. “Oh” he chuckles, the soft breath plays like music in your ears, as he scans the room, “Here” he stretches over you and reveals two folded up towels, his smile is happy and hopeful as he waits for you to lean forward so he can place them behind your back. “Thanks” you whisper as he slides back into place between your thighs, “Better?” his eyes, god those eyes, wide, baby cow eyes, glinting under the moonlight above the sweet smile pulling at his lips. “Yeah, yeah” you breathe, you can’t take those eyes, they confront you, they force you to curl under the depth of them, waiting for you to tell the truth because they know you’re lying. You can’t take it, so, you quickly pull him in by his neck, sinking your lips into his, kissing him desperately, willing the sight of his eyes out of your mind.

Your thighs glide against the counter, sliding down onto the floor and forcing Eddie against the other end of the counter, he yelps in surprise at the quick action but within no time matches your energy, hands grasping on to your hips again. Your whole body cringes as his hands slide down your back to grab a handful of your ass, but you power through, and feel shocked as you focus on those delicious groans escaping his throat, groans that were prompted by his hands on your ass. His hands squeeze firmly and he pulls you towards him, pressing below your stomach is what really sets off the fire between your legs. His hard cock forces against your mound and you feel your thighs squeeze together unprompted at the action, squeezing tight at the obnoxious groan that vibrates in your ears.

Your lips move at a furious pace together as both of your hips begin dancing in sync, grinding against each other with no shame. Your hands grip and scratch at any skin you can find, his biceps, his shoulder, his chest, back, shoulder blades, face, anything. You can feel the drunken haze begin to fog your mind again as you lose yourself with him, his own must be too as he sways slightly while he broadens his stance, allowing you to press yourself closer to him.

His hands find your hips again and he twirls you around, quick to pull you back in again to force your ass against his throbbing cock, his lips kiss down your neck, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he feels your hands pull at his curls. He breathes a ragged “Fuck” as his hips begin to roll against your own, holding on tighter as he hears your breaths grow louder. “Shit, need to be inside you so bad, you don't even wanna’ know” he whispers against your shoulder, you chuckle breathily while your own lips find his neck, kissing at anything you can reach. Squeezing your eyes shut tight as you feel his hands find your belt buckle again, but this time you don’t stop him, there's an indescribable urge to fight back, to prove yourself. To whom? You have no idea, but you know you're not stopping now, not when his body feels so warm and inviting behind yours, not when his hands have gripped onto your body the way they have, not when his kisses have felt so intoxicating.

He undoes the buckle, and then the belt, and then finally the zipper.

You brace yourself for the impact.

But nothing comes, his fingers snake their way past the open zipper of your baggy jeans and slip under the hem of your panties. You release a sigh of relief thats replaced by a soft moan when you feel warm fingers make their way between your folds, his own breath is heavy and hot against your skin as his eyes once again roll to the back of your head “Fuck, you’re so wet” his teeth graze the soft skin of your shoulder as you look down to find his hand moving beneath the denim. His fingers glide down to your hole, collecting your slick before he begins an agonisingly slow tackle of your clit. He grins wildly at the whimper that rings in his ears while you twitch slightly in front of him.

The feeling of his soft lips trailing kisses up and down your neck and shoulder accompanied by the exciting press of his throbbing cock against you and the wickedly cruel slow circles on your clit have your breath speeding up, loud pants slowly transitioning into breathy moans that has Eddie grinding against you in a furious pace. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and it lolls on your neck, splaying your hair over Eddie's shoulder as his movements speed up. While your hands grip desperately at the counter, Eddie's free one finds your tit, palming at it in tune with every deep groan that vibrates through his chest. His hips move with yours as you grind down on his fingers and an obnoxiously loud moan echoes throughout the small bathroom -sure to travel up to unsuspecting ears upstairs- at the harsh press and increased pace of his digits against you.

A string of curses bounce around the walls as you feel the tingling between your thighs begin to tighten into a coil, everything is simply euphoric. The dull drum of the music upstairs, travelling through the floor to the almost completely dark bathroom, the delicious sound of Eddie's groans and pants mixing with your own, his warm body against yours, encircling you, the sensation of his fingertip against your clit, his lips grazing your skin, his fingers now tweaking your nipple has you writhing against him. “Fuck, m’gonna- ‘bout to- shit- mother fucker” a deafening moan rings in his ears as your whole body stiffens with the snap of the coil.

His kisses never cease as he waits out your orgasm and when you eventually come down from your high his lips find your cheek. “Good?” you can hear he’s out of breath as whispers against your cheek. He only chuckles at your tired nod and slowly slips his hand out of your pants, after wiping it off awkwardly on his own jeans it joins across from his other hand. Broad palms rest on your hips as he kneads the skin softly but when his lips manage to find yours you feel yourself snapping out of your tired post orgasmic state. You quickly turn in his grasp, lips forcing against his furiously, desperate to feel more of him. God if that's what he could do with his fingers you were dying to see what else he could do.

Within seconds he matches your energy, groaning as your tongues dance furiously. He manages to find your hips again and unsteadily walks you to the other side of the counter with your back to it. Your mind is too far gone to set off any warning bells as his hands rip the denim down your hips, past your thighs and letting them fall to the floor along with the delicate black fabric that previously would have protected your last bit of modesty. His hands grip your hips and he forces you up on the counter completely bare. The only thing you can feel at the moment is complete, utter desperation. Your fingers fiddle with his belt as his lips find yours again, when a bratty whine leaves your throat his own hands replace yours, hastily undoing his jeans and pulling them down his legs.

You manage to get a whole second to awe at the sheer size of him while he steps out of the fabric before a hand is wrapping around your ankle, forcing you to place your foot on the counter. The only break your lips get from each other is when a loud gasp breaks the seal at the sensation of his fat mushroom tip forcing past your entrance. A wide grin paints his features as he sheathes inside your cunt. Eddie knew this wasn't your first time but he still wanted to give you a second to adjust before he began pounding into you. His hands grasp onto your thighs and manoeuvre your legs to wrap around him. With each thrust your moans grew louder but neither of you had a care in the world that there were other people around.

His hands never left your thighs, as he began setting a steady pace of harsh thrusts his hands smoothed up and down your thighs, gripping occasionally as a raspy voice whispered “Fuck I love your thighs” suddenly your moans died down and all that could be heard was heavy breathing as your mind managed to focus on something other than the drag of his cock against your walls. “What?” your hoarse voice whispered “I fuckin’ love your thighs” his eyes didn’t meet yours, instead they were trained on the back of his head, half hidden behind his eyelids. “Love your ass, your tits, hips, face, stomach, arms, hands fuckin’ all of it, you’re so fuckin’ perfect” every word was a mix of pants between each harsh thrust into you. “You do?”

He managed to find your gaze as his hips slowed down “‘Course I do, I’d be a fuckin’ idiot not to” a concered expression found its way onto his features as he stared down at you. Your hands slid from his shoulder blades to his hips as they began to slow further until he was simply deeply seated inside you. “I- I was kind of nervous, cuz ya’ know…” you broke off shyly with a shrug. “Cuz what?” he frowned softly, “You know” you nodded towards your lower body, “No I don’t know” his frown etched deeper as his hands began soothing up and down your thighs again, the drunken haze seemed to have evaporated for the both of you, leaving behind a trace of distortion. “Jesus you really gonna’ make me say it?” you groaned, “Eh yes, I have no idea what you’re talking about”

“Because I’m flat and shit, like I’ve seen your ex dude, she has a literal hourglass shape, thick thighs, fat ass all that stuff guys like” you couldn’t hold his gaze any longer, instead your eyes found interest in the movement of his hand. “So? Everyones different, I’m not dating you for your body, that’s just a major plus, like have you seen you? You’re fucking perfect” his hand moved to softly manoeuver your face to look you in the eye. “You really think so?” you whispered, the moonlight shone in your eyes as you looked up at him, “Are you crazy? You’re perfect.”

Words were lost on you, all you could do was stretch up to place a soft kiss to his lips. One kiss turned to two and two turned to three, before you knew it your hands were gripping at his shoulder blades and your ankles were locking behind his back, pulling him closer as his tongue began to swipe against yours. Loud moans and groans muddled with offensive curses as his hips began thrusting at an incomprehensible speed. Hoarse fucks and shits echoed in your head as you felt the head of his cock nudge your cervix repeatedly and your nails clawed at his back.

This time when your head lolled on your shoulders to find the mirror all the picture looking back at you did was set hot flames inside the pit of your stomach.

Nothing could pull you out of this moment, not even the sound of bottles and soap dishes clashing into the floor as you sought out something to grip onto. “Fuck, yeah lean back” Eddie muttered as your hands found their place at the edge of the counter. The view of your tits bouncing up and down only had his hips gaining speed as he began pistoning in and out of you. “Fuck, fuck. Fucking perfect”

“Shit, don’t stop, feels so fucking good, don’t stop” your voice was high and squeaky as you moaned your words. “Not fuckin’ stopping for anything baby holy shit” While one hand gripped your hip the other grasped desperately onto your tit, “Mother fucker, just watching you would make me fucking cum” he groaned as your mouth dropped and your eyes rolled as far back as they physically could. “I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum!” your shriek was like music to his ears, “Fuck me too, shit gonna’ cum so hard” the awkward humiliation hidden beneath his whispered words were lost on you as you felt that same coil explode.

High pitched moans and deep groans didn’t even register in your head as the view of the bathroom was replaced with a blinding white and a deaf ringing accompanied it.

After what felt like forever you managed to open your eyes to find a mop of brown hair splayed across your chest as its accompanying body heaved up and down. Your fingers laced through his curls prompting him to stand up, his chest expanded with every deep breath he tried to take to find himself again and you only watched in amusement. “Funny, sex sobers you up” you chuckled breathlessly, earning a snort from the man across from you. “Hah, uuhh yeah you’re gonna need like a towel or something” he cringed as he looked down at your joined bodies, his thick creamy substance already beginning to drip down between your asscheeks. Your hand searched blindly for the towel next to you and you held it up to him with a goofy grin.

“Huh, fuck ok” he took a deep breath before his digits wrapped around the base of his cock. Moving ever so slowly he began pulling out of you. It seemed however that the coil hadn’t exactly exploded, part of it was still lying deep within you and you could feel it start to stretch with each millimetre that moved inside you. A loud whine sang from your chest as you felt him slowly pull out and suddenly the milky liquid buried deep inside you followed, you don’t know what prompted you to do it but suddenly the pad of your finger was circling your clit harshly as the hefty amount of cum Eddie had left behind began to trickle out of you.

He watched with wide eyes as you rubbed hard circles against the small nub, “Shit shit shit!” you shrieked as you felt that coil finally detonate. Hot clear liquid began to flood, drenching Eddie who stood mesmerised in front of you and it didn't stop until every last drop of Eddie's cum had pooled onto the floor. “Shit” you breathed heavily as you leaned forward, your head thudding against Eddie's chest. “Holy shit” he scoffed in amazement, you straightened up to see his face “That was like the hottest thing I’ve ever seen” his eyes were bulging out of his skull “We’re definitely getting you to do that again” all you could do was snort at his excited face before you slid off the counter onto your wobbly legs. Bending down to retrieve your underwear from the floor you feel a harsh smack to your ass and you stand up promptly to face him but before you can even get a word out his lips are on yours and his hands are gripping at the globes of your ass as he’s backing you against the counter again. “You can forget going upstairs, we’re staying down here all night.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson has adhd #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson smut #Eddie Munson headcons #Eddie Munson plus size reader #Eddie Munson x plus size reader #Eddie Munson x reader #headcanon #headcon #StarrWrites #StarrThinks #eddie munson fluff #Eddie x flat!reader

113 notes · View notes

ripcupid · 1 year

Text

Atta Girl

୨୧ word count: 2k ୨୧ Joel Miller x fem! reader ୨୧ haven't written for a male character or a different fandom in a while.

Joel sits watching you from the bar with a wry smile and a glass of whiskey in hand. He stares at you flinging around on a mechanical bull as you laugh and try to stay atop it. As he takes a sip of his drink, his smirk seems to grow wider with each passing second. His eyes dance with amusement and admiration, as you cling to the bull and ride it like a champion.

You look up and catch his gaze, and he gives you a small nod of approval before you get flung in a different direction. He can’t help but laugh along with you, as he watches you enjoying yourself.

You land on the mat and come to a stop, breathing heavily from the thrill and adrenaline. As you gather yourself, you can feel the other patrons of the rodeo watching with awe and admiration. You walk off the mat, making your way to Joel who is standing there with a wide grin on his face, laughing and applauding you for your amazing performance.

"That was… impressive." Joel congratulates you, wrapping his arm around your waist and giving you a tight squeeze and a kiss on the cheek. You blush and smile back at him, your brain dazed from the adrenaline and alcohol. You giggle, snatching Joel's cowboy hat from his head.

You playfully place the hat on your head, tipping it to the side. "Why thank you." You tease with an exaggerated southern accent as you bow graciously.

He laughs and replies, “It looks good on you.” Joel quickly grabs your hand, pulls you close, and gives you another kiss. “It’s getting late. We should probably go.”

“But it’s fun; I’m having fun.” You groan dramatically, dropping your body weight in his arms and he tightens his embrace, just to make sure you don’t fall. The hat slips from your head.

“Baby, I think you’re having too much fun.” Joel grabs your jaw in his hand, giving you a quick kiss to silence your groans. “Pick up my hat please.” He mutters against your lips. You pick up his hat, placing it back on your head as he releases your jaw, a small smile playing on his lips. He gives a smile for your compliance as his fingers lace through yours, taking your hand in his and leading you out of the bar.

Joel watches you undress while he takes off his shoes, his eyes never leaving your body as you move. You can feel his eyes on you but you don’t bother turning around. “Can I wear this shirt?” You ask, holding up one of his button-up shirts.

“Of course baby.” He sits back continuing to watch you move about. You can feel him watching as you slip it on and button it up, enjoying the feeling of being wrapped up in his scent.

You finish changing, looking behind you at Joel. He stares back at you with a smile. You stand in front of him, his hands instinctively hold your hips. “You looked really good tonight." Joel complimented.

“You too, like a cowboy with your little hat.” You joke making Joel let out a breathy laugh. You lay down, placing your feet in his lap. “My cowboy though.”

“And you’re my cowgirl.” Joel teases, his hands massaging your calf making you let out a soft moan. You relax into his touch, closing your eyes. He chuckles at your reaction.

“Don’t laugh, you’re good at that.” You open your eyes, a smile playing at the corner of your lips.

“Yeah?” He questions, bringing his hands up your leg as his fingers trail up your leg to your inner thigh, caressing it so softly as you part your legs to allow him better access. You nod in response, feeling your skin heat up under his touch. His eyes twinkle in amusement as you respond, your breath becoming ragged as he moves his hand higher up your thigh.

He whispers softly, asking you if he should continue, and you nod again, unable to find the words to express yourself. His hand moves further up your thigh, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your veins as he caresses you. You feel his fingertips brush gently against your cunt, eliciting a sigh from you. His lips curl into a grin as he moves to lean over you, putting the leg in between yours so you can't close them.

He kisses your neck, his hands taking a firm grasp of your thighs as he moves his fingers closer to your clit. You gasp as his fingers brush against it, sending a wave of pleasure throughout your body.

"You're so sensitive." He whispers softly. His breath is hot against your ear, and his fingers tease, lightly grazing against your clit, over and over until you can’t help but moan in pleasure. Your back arches in pleasure, and you moan softly. You reach down for his wrist, but his words stop you.

His voice is husky and low as he whispers, "No touching; Let me make you cum." His voice excites you even more, and his fingers continue their teasing. He moves his hand faster, circling and pressing your clit until it is almost too sensitive to bear. He pulls your underwear to the side, spreading your arousal over your clit and you can feel your body trembling. You moan as he slides one finger inside you, and your entire body quivers with pleasure. "You want more, baby?" He looks at you with a smirk, and you can only nod in response, wanting it all and more.

His hand remains still as he slides in a second finger and begins to massage your inner walls. His thumb begins to circle your clit, each touch making you yearn for more and more of his touch. Your hips began to arch into him as he increased the pressure and pace of his movements, his fingers thrusting in and out of you, sending wave after wave of pleasure through you.

Your breathing quickens, and his smirk grows wider, the look of satisfaction written all over his face. His lips meet yours in a passionate embrace as his fingers move faster and faster. He grins in delight as his thumb continues to circle your clit. You grab onto the sheet and push into him, feeling every nerve in your body ignite in pleasure. "I w-want more p-please." You whimper against his lips, begging for him to take you further, to give you more.

"Such a needy little thing." He growls against your neck as his lips trace a path to your ear, "But since you asked so nicely." He pulls out his fingers, brushing them against your lips. You whimper at the loss, pressing your thighs together to gain some friction again. You open your mouth eagerly, and he slides them inside, his mouth curving into a satisfied smirk as you moan in pleasure at the taste of yourself.

He slides them out slowly, savoring every moment and the expression of ecstasy on your face. He sits up, pushing your legs apart, and looks into your eyes.

"Please, Joel." He grins at your pleas, tracing your cunt with his fingers until you moan out for more.

"Gotta be specific, use your words." Joel's mouth curves into a wicked smirk as he hears your plea, and he teasingly runs his fingertips over the wetness between your legs.

You groan in frustration and desperation, aching for more of his touch. "I'll give you more of what you want, but only if you beg for it." His voice is low and sultry, full of promise. Joel's gaze burns into you, and he waits for your response.

"I-i want you inside, need to feel you." Joel's eyes light up, and a wicked smile spreads across his face. He reaches for his pants and starts to unbutton them, revealing his painfully hard dick already straining against the fabric of his boxers. You feel the familiar heat course through you and reach out to touch him but he slaps them away before you can do anything. "No touching."

He pulls out his dick, stroking it slowly as he watches you, and you see it get even harder as his desire builds. You want nothing more than to touch him, feel the heat emanating from his body, and experience the pleasure he is clearly feeling but you know you can't.

You can only watch as he pleasures himself in front of you, his breathing getting more and more labored with each stroke.

You can feel yourself growing more aroused with each movement of his hand, and you can feel the need building inside of you. You feel your clench around nothing when he slides the tip through your slit, and you can't help but let out a gasp. He pauses and looks up at you with a knowing smile, and you can't help but blush at his piercing gaze.

He pulls your hips closer, letting his dick glide along your cunt and teasing you. You desperately shake your head cause he's not giving you what you want and he knows that. Nonetheless, you still grind your hips against his length as you let out a whimper.

He finally gives into your begging and pushes his cock deep inside you, the feeling of fullness takes your breath away. He groans at the feeling of you contracting around him. His slow, steady thrusts make your head spin and you moan as you wrap your legs around his waist, your nails digging into the sheets. You tilt your head back and moan out his name as he thrusts harder, faster, and deeper. He reaches over you grabbing the headboard and his thrusts become more intense as he moves with a steady, rhythmic beat. You fist the sheets, the undeniable urge to touch him. Your eyes roll back into your head.

"You feel so good, baby." Joel grunts through his teeth.

Joel grabs your jaw and pulls your face close to his, kissing you passionately. You moan into his mouth.

You melt into the kiss, your body feeling lighter and lighter with each passing second. You pull away, both of you breathing heavily. He reaches his hand down for your clit and starts rubbing it gently in slow circles, sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

"W-wanna cum please Joel." You moan as Joel increases the pressure and rhythm of his hand, moving faster and faster.

"Cum for me, wanna feel you." His voice is low and demanding and his touch perfect, sending you spiraling over the edge. You find yourself reaching the edge and crying out in pleasure as waves of ecstasy flood your body.

His touch slows and he moves his hands up your body until he is holding you close to him, your heart racing and your breaths coming in short gasps. "Atta girl, that's it." His voice is soft and comforting, whispering words of love in your ear. He slows his finger down on your clit. leaning back to pull out of you with a deep, guttural moan you arch your back as the pleasure waves through your body.

You look up into his eyes, mesmerized by the intensity of his gaze, and he smiles before he dips his head and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. He continues to stroke his fingers around your clit, massaging you as he brings you closer and closer to a shuddering climax, chuckling as you whine with overstimulation.

He strokes himself bringing himself to the brink of an orgasm, and when he can take it no longer, he finally lets himself go, spilling himself onto your stomach as you cry out from overstimulation, completely sated by the pleasure he has just given you. You sigh happily when his thumbs stop. He rubs your hips affectionately, leaning over to give you a gentle kiss. "Let me clean you up." He rises and heads to the bathroom, quickly returning with a warm cloth and carefully wiping away anything.

He then sits back down and cradles you in his arms, holding you close while he tells you how much he loves you. You wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his shirt, feeling contentment wash over you. He brushes his thumb over the fabric of your (his) shirt resting his cheek on your head and whispers comforting words in your ear. You close your eyes and take in the warmth of his embrace.

440 notes · View notes

yandere-daydreams · 2 years

Text

Title: Transfer of Ownership.

Pairing: Yandere!Childe x Reader (+Yandere!La Signora).

Word Count: 1.2k.

TW: Unhealthy Relationships, Threats of Physical Harm, and Manipulation.

Childe found you outside, huddled beside a low-burning torch, staring blankly at the ground.

Which, to be fair, was probably the best place you could be. The others had devolved into petty arguing hours ago, and for as many briefings as you’d suffered through on the edge of Signora’s lap, he doubted you’d be able to show the same apathetic tolerance inside of a dark, freezing cathedral, well in view of a coffin only freshly shut. And, of course, it wasn't like there was anything to keep you there, anymore - no hand to catch your hip in a lace-edged grip, no lips to purse and simper as a sweetened voice ordered you, in no uncertain terms, to sit still and keep your mouth shut. Really, part of him was surprised you’d shown your face at all, that you hadn’t taken what you could and fled while the Harbingers were still waiting to see who would make a move first. It was what he would do, if he was in your place. It was certainly what Signora would’ve done, if the roles had been reversed.

But, you were always a timid one, weren’t you? The leash might be gone, but you were still too scared to take off your collar, still more comfortable living under its weight than doing away with it completely.

He'd be lying if he said he minded. Signora trained you well, after all, drilled compliance into you like she was teaching you to breathe.

If only she'd lasted long enough to reap the benefits of such an obedient little pet.

He moved slowly, let you hear his muffled footsteps and snap towards him, your shoulders squaring and your body going tense before you realized he wasn’t Pierro or Arlecchino, that he wasn’t there to drag you back inside just to mumble a few final words to a room of bickering politicians and deafened soldiers. You didn’t relax, but you didn’t scurry away, either, and he was able to take his place across from you, on the other side of your make-shift hearth, the distance between you no great length, but still existent. Signora liked to keep you pressed into her side, if not as far underneath her as she could manage. Childe wasn’t so merciless. Or, he wasn’t going to be so merciless tonight, at least.

“I’m glad to see you,” He started, holding his gloved hands up to the open flame. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d genuinely felt cold, but it couldn’t hurt to pretend. “Holding up alright?”

You looked away, your gaze dropping back to the ground. You weren’t, obviously. He could see the redness in your eyes, the fresh bitemarks littered across your bottom lips, the stiffness in the way you kept your arms crossed over your chest, but it'd be better to let you admit to your own distress than try to pry it out of you, as he was sure the others already had. “The Tsaritsa has been kind to me,” You mumbled, by way of response. “Her Majesty and her Harbingers have been very generous in the wake of Rosalyne’s departure. I can't say I'm unprovided for.”

He could only wonder which of the other Harbingers had fed you that line. “That wasn’t the question. How you doing, (Y/n).”

“Badly.” Immediate, hasty, spoken with a sort of begrudging panic that brought a smile to his face before he could drag it down. Luckily, you were already preoccupied. “I mean, I'm fine. Or... I'm sad? I’m not— I don’t think that I’m—” You paused, taking a deep breath. “You knew how she treated me. You all saw how she was. How am I supposed to feel?”

You shifted and something caught the moonlight – a silver band stunted with a single, enlarged ruby. You’d worn it for as long as he’d known you, but he always assumed you’d been forced to, that Signora had made some hollow threat about letting Sandrone weld it to your finger, or asking Capitano to make you one that grows tighter and hotter every time you try to take it off, or something else she’d never actually go through with. Now, you fiddled with it like an old comfort item, running the pad of your thumb over the crimson gem as if you were trying to wear down its edges. “And yet, you’re still here.”

“It’s just…” You turned away, sharply, more out of paranoia than any reluctance to go on. Consider the measures Signora took to isolate to (and the willingness the other Harbingers showed to maintain that isolation in her absence), he might’ve been the first person you’d spoken to sincerely since her death. Or, since she took you in the first place, depending on the kind of relationship you’d had with Signora behind closed doors. “Rosalyne took so much away from me. I don’t know if I have anything left, now that she’s gone.”

He was quiet, for a moment. Just a moment. Childe already knew what he wanted to say, but you didn’t have to know that.

“The weather can be harsh this time of year. In Snezhnaya, I mean.” He nodded towards the cathedral’s courtyard, to the starless sky and the layer of fresh snow. “You should get away.”

That earned a breath of a laugh. “I don’t know where I’d go. I don’t have anywhere to be, without her.” And then, with a pointed look towards the cathedral. “Besides, it’s not as if they’d let me go very far.”

“Not on your own, sure.” He let himself smile, this time, truly smile, hoping the dim light and the harsh shadows would disguise the sharper edges. “But, if you were to travel with another Harbinger, perhaps one stationed indefinitely in the very scenic, very distracting Liyue Harbor…?”

You scoffed, but your expression was more apprehensive than dismissive. A pet, still unwilling to escape its own restraints, but open to the idea of letting yourself be pulled from one lap to another. “And what use would the fearsome Tartaglia have for a grieving spouse in Liyue?”

“Do you honestly think I’m that utilitarian?” You nodded immediately, and Childe chuckled, letting his head lull to the side. “I just think it'd be nice to see a familiar face so far from home. It can get lonely on the other side of the world, and I wouldn’t mind having someone who doesn’t think of me as the renowned, infamous, stunningly brilliant, devastatingly handsome—” He clicked his tongue, bared his teeth. “—and so incredibly fearsome Tartaglia.”

“And, if I was to agree to accompanying you,” Your expression softened, and you adjusted your coat, pulling it over your chest. “When would we leave?”

“First thing tomorrow morning, Don’t worry about packing, either – the Northern Back always treats its guests with unwavering hospitality, and you’ll be on the arm of their most dutiful host.” He stepped around the torch, placing himself that much closer to you. “I’ll let the others know, too. All you need to worry about is getting yourself to the harbor by dawn.”

Your shoulders slumped, your posture losing its rigidity for the first time since he’d first seen you tonight. Since he'd met you. “Thank you, Ajax. I…” He heard the doors to the cathedral open, the sound of footsteps just starting to flow into the courtyard, and you lowered your voice, tilted your head back to meet his eyes. “Honestly, I just want to think about something that isn’t her.”

He only grinned, only draped an arm over your shoulders and pulled you into his side. You brought up a hand, covering your mouth to stifle the small, bubbling laugh that might’ve escaped, otherwise. Your ring came back into view, and he found himself wondering if you would take it off tonight, or when you arrived in Liyue, when you were too distracted to realize it’d been slipped off of your finger. He wondered if you’d let him buy a replacement, or a dozen, or however many it took for you to forget that you’d ever worn anything else.

He wondered if you’d ever take a shining to sapphires, instead.

2K notes · View notes