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wndaswife · 7 months

Note

hi! do you think you could write smth about mean mommy wanda when she finds out that you've touched w/o permission? thank you so much, im obsessed w all of your fics!!!

breach of trust | wanda maximoff & fem!reader

While she’s away at a city council meeting, you find mommy’s collection of special pictures and can’t help but start touching yourself to them, and she isn’t particularly pleased when she comes home to see her baby having enjoyed herself without her.

Word count: 4963

Tags: smut (kinda), fluff, mdlg, aftercare, breast suckling, masturbation, spanking, degradation, mommy kink, there is crying but i don’t think it’s dacryphilia, but im tagging just in case you’re kinda into it, dom!wanda maximoff, sub!reader | MINORS DNI

gif credit to vanessacarlysle

Mommy was a special, important woman; she was one of the primary representatives for the town’s school district, so on some Sunday mornings she had to leave early in order to make it on time for city council meetings in which they discussed things from tax fund relocations to local events.

Sometimes they didn’t talk at all about the school district, so mommy ended up leaving her sweet sleeping angel at home for no reason at all — or so she put it.

But no matter what they discussed at those meetings, those Sundays where Wanda had to leave early were dreadful, for on these mornings you had to wake to an empty bed and no kisses from mommy until around lunchtime.

Though on most occasions anyways, Wanda made efforts to message you to make sure you’d eaten breakfast and that you were holding up alright without her; she knew how lonely you could get home alone without her, for you wouldn’t let her come home each time without getting an earful of how much you’d missed her.

This morning seemed particularly long for whatever reason, and mommy hadn’t responded to you in about an hour, which meant that she was likely discussing something that did indeed involve the school district this time.

Breakfast was yummy fruits that had been cut up for you and refrigerated before Wanda left so you could have them with your waffles.

Wanda was happy to see that you weren’t overdoing the whipped cream and syrup like you normally did when you sent her a picture of the breakfast you made, although you did add a few extra spurts of whipped cream after you took the picture to send to her.

You left the syrup as it was, though.

After that, you watched a few cartoons to which Wanda asked which of your stuffies you were cuddling with when you also sent her a picture of you sitting in the living room.

She still hadn’t responded to the picture of you hugging your stuffies close, which you knew she’d especially love because you were holding the bunny stuffie she’d gotten you for Easter a few months ago closest to your chest.

In any case, you were getting antsy and bored and you missed mommy an extra lot this time.

So you decided to start exploring.

You had only moved in with Wanda a few months ago, and though you had been here multiple times before you started living together, you still thoroughly enjoyed looking through mama’s things.

She was only ever mildly annoyed when you unfolded her clothes, but otherwise she didn’t mind at all when her sweet baby was sitting in the closet looking through her things or sitting at her vanity fiddling with her jewellery.

There was one time where you were smelling Wanda’s perfume and looking through all her jewellery and makeup, and she sat you down on her lap so the two of you were sitting in front of the vanity while mommy did your makeup and put her jewellery on you and sprayed you with the perfume you liked the most.

The recollection made you all warm — you loved mommy so much. But it also made you even antsier, for you were now desperate for her attention and you missed her dearly.

In dire need to feel mama close, you went upstairs and sat on the floor of the walk-in closet.

Immediately, you unhooked one of her white cashmere pullovers and wore it before digging through the boxes on the top of her side of the closet.

Most of these boxes had Wanda’s important memories, more expensive jewellery she didn’t often wear, mementos, and other things you really liked to look through because you loved seeing things like photos of her and Tommy and Billy or tickets to her first poetry reading she attended.

There was a smaller box you hadn’t seen before, a white one set not on the upper shelf, but on the hanging closet organiser that both you and Wanda put some of your smaller things in, like scarves and belts.

You made space on the ground for the box, moving the other things aside and sitting cross-legged while you inspected the box.

Unsure why you hadn’t seen the box before during the other times you went through mommy’s things, you curiously opened the box and were met with a collection of pictures.

Stored on their sides, you couldn’t see the contents of them until you laid the box on the side and carefully pulled the pictures out from the box.

The sight made your face immediately heat up and you suddenly felt every inch on your body throb with desire and anticipation.

There were nearly twenty photos of both you and Wanda having sex, all derived from several occasions. You’d known she’d taken them, as she always showed them to you when you were cuddled against her chest feeling all sleepy and happy, but you had no idea she printed them out nor had you seen any of them since she showed them to you the first time.

There were some of them you liked particularly, photos of just mommy with a handful of her tits or while she was fucking you from behind or while she had you on your knees with your head buried between her thighs, or pictures with her fingers in your mouth or of you buried in her breasts while she rode the strap attached to your hips.

Why did mommy have these?

You felt a throb develop between your legs and you wondered if she used them to get off when she was without you, and though it made you pouty to imagine mama touching herself without you, it drove you up the wall to imagine her alone in bed looking at pictures of her sweet angel and fucking herself to them.

Then you started looking over the pictures of mommy’s tits and her view fucking you from behind and the one where your lips were wrapped around one of her nipples with her hand cradling the back of your head, and you felt yourself inadvertently beginning to press your thighs together, your cheeks heating up exponentially and your yearn to be with mama making it all the more intense.

By the time Wanda replied to your picture of you cuddling with your stuffies calling you adorable and telling you how much she couldn’t wait to be back home with you, you’d already taken your favourite photos to bed and laid them out on the blanket, now too distracted to notice the vibrations of your phone.

When you looked down at them all splayed out, you knew what it was that made your fingers begin to twitch and your knees begin to dig into the soft blankets of the bed, the sheets still a mess and the bed still unmade from when you woke up without mama this morning.

You took a few moments to look them over, each picture, feeling your body thrum impatiently while your mind raced to perhaps lock the images in your memory so you didn’t have to indulge in what edge you were about to spill over.

But that picture — oh, that picture — of mommy cradling the back of your head while you sucked sleepily from her breasts made you ache.

So you slid off your pyjama shorts and slowly took a pillow from against the headboard and slid it between your thighs, securing your knees around it and rolling your hips downwards.

You didn’t even pull your panties to the side at first, because you knew mommy didn’t like when you did anything like this on your own if you at the very least didn’t get her permission first — which she more often than not didn’t bestow, because mommy was a greedy and impatient woman when it came to you.

It wouldn’t be bad if you at least made yourself feel a little good, and your special big girl parts weren’t really touching anything but your panties.

But, oh, the smell of mommy’s cashmere sweater and the pictures of her pretty body made your head all woozy.

You used the same laundry detergent and all, but mommy’s clothes always smelled a little different somehow; it smelled richer, like some of her perfume or her shampoo, though you know it had been washed away in the washing machine.

In any case, you just felt completely surrounded by mama, and when you pulled your panties to the side and began rubbing your throbbing clit against the pillow, you didn’t feel that you were exactly disobeying her when everything surrounding you reminded you of her.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been going at rubbing yourself against the pillow to the photos of mama because you were in a strange place of feeling guilty that you were doing it and not wanting to be conscious of how long you were disobeying her for, and sheer pleasure from riding your pillow looking at pictures of mama that you could just look at over and over and over again, and they’d be there every time you opened your eyes or looked down at the blankets where they were sprawled out.

Though the amount of time you’d been doing it for didn’t matter, at least not to Wanda, who you hadn’t heard come home and walk up to the bedroom.

Perhaps she’d been suspecting that you were up to no good when her baby was uncharacteristically silent over texts, or that you were sleeping and decided not to make too much noise when she came up and looked for you.

Whatever it was, it was only until she dropped her purse on the floor a few feet away from the bed to storm over that it finally broke you from your concentration and made you realize that she’d come home.

By the time you looked up, she took your face in her hands and angled it up so you could look at her.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she growled, looking down at you.

Your stuttered attempts to answer her question ended up being worth nothing when Wanda looked down at the bed and saw the sprawled out photos in front of you. She looked over at the closet and noticed the other photos left on the floor along with the open white box she’d stored them in.

With a hum that was startlingly cool and unassuming, she looked back over to you, her eyes scarily focused as she said, “It seems we have a rat infestation; my things being gone through while I’m not home, my things not being in the same place they were when I set them down.”

You swallowed and kept quiet, for you knew she was leading up to something; if it were not for the frightening steadiness in her voice, then it was the way her fingers remained pressing into your cheeks as she held your head in place.

“Unless you have an explanation as to why those pictures are on the floor, Y/N?” she asked, tipping your head down a bit so you had to look up at her as if you were a guilty puppy.

There was no use lying now, and besides, you’d felt guilty for what you were doing ever since you laid the photos down on the bed.

“It was me, mommy, I made the mess,” you confessed. “And I was doing big girl things without mommy’s permission.”

Wanda’s eyes narrowed slightly, and then she looked down at the sweater you were wearing. The flash in her eyes seemed to be one of adoration, and you at least knew that a part of her appreciated you wearing her clothes when you were home alone.

Indeed, she did see the image of you with your face in her hands while you looked up at her with the sweetest pleading eyes and wearing her clothing to be a most adorable sight.

“Do you know what makes mommies, mommies?” she then asked.

Perking up a little as you thought about it, you answered hopefully, “Having a baby like me to care for?”

“And what does ‘caring’ for a baby like you mean, Y/N?”

You hummed thoughtfully before responding, “Giving me kisses and cuddling me and making me feel like the most special little girl in the world.”

“Oh, of course,” Wanda conceded, smiling at you.

But her grip on your face did not lessen.

“Yet, if that were the only way mommies care for their babies, then anyone else could do the same and be just as important to you as mommy,” she explained.

“Sweetheart,” Wanda cooed, “there’s one thing you’re missing.”

When you didn’t answer, looking at her curiously without any implication that you knew what it was that you were missing, mommy said, and tightened her grip on your face, “Discipline — mommies get to discipline their little girls when they’ve been bad.”

She suddenly pushed you back and let go of you, using her other hand to tear the pillow out from between your legs.

“No, mama, please!” you begged, getting onto your knees and crawling over to her. “I apologised already!”

“I have yet to hear this apology,” she said as she collected the photos from the bed.

She was right — you’d forgotten to apologise.

“I’m sorry! Mommy, I’m sorry! Please don’t give me spankings!”

“I’m happy to see you can take responsibility for your actions, honey, but what kind of precedent would I be setting as your mommy if I let your disobedience go without punishment?” She placed the photos on the nightstand and straightened with her hands on her hips. “Be a good girl and take your clothes off.”

You sniffled and crawled forward further so you could kneel in front of her. “Please, mama, I don’t want to,” you continued to beg.

“Colour?”

“Green,” you answered honestly and sniffled, still hoping she’d take pity on you.

She maintained, “Then I’m sorry, honey, but you need to take your clothes off — now.”

You rubbed your eyes and Wanda clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, reaching down and slapping your hands away from your face.

“You do not want to make mommy angrier than she is right now, angel,” she snarled from beyond a clenched jaw as she tightened a hand around your wrist. “I’ve been dealing with bullshit all afternoon and I come home to see you fucking off as if I’ve never disciplined you or taught you any form of manners in your life. The punishment I currently see fit is nothing compared to what I will force you to take if you don’t get your fucking ass up and take your clothes off.”

You knew there was nothing else to do but obey when mommy was this angry.

Earlier, you hadn’t realised how upset she already was; she must’ve been holding her tongue or trying her best to maintain her patience. She told you her punishment for you would be worse if you didn’t undress right this moment, but you also knew that the punishment you were getting now was already worse than what she’d originally intended when she caught you masturbating.

You took mommy’s sweater off first and then your panties, but when you moved to take off the loose cropped pyjama top that barely covered your tits, mama hooked a finger under the strap of it and released it so it slapped lightly against your shoulder.

“Leave this on,” she said. “I like how they make your tits look.”

Her thumb ran across one of your breasts and she thumbed for a moment at your nipple, amused at how quickly it hardened and how you pressed your lips trying not to moan in the face of how you were just about to be punished for indulging in pleasure.

She let go of you and sat down on the edge of the bed, adjusting her posture to allow you enough space to lay yourself across her lap.

Not protesting even a little bit, you crawled over to the edge and laid your stomach on her thighs. She moved around a bit so you were able to lay both your arms and legs down on the bed, leaving only your hips arched up a bit with how you were sprawled out across her lap.

“Spread your legs,” she told you, and you obeyed, making sure both of your legs were still on the bed so you could allow her proper access to you.

Wanda draped an arm over your waist and secured you in place while her other hand parted your thighs a bit more so she could lean over and inspect your cunt.

“Look at how wet this pussy is,” she said, disappointed. “You got so far without mommy’s help. Are you a big girl now, Y/N? You don’t need mommy to make you feel good?”

“No, mommy!” you protested immediately. “I-I was looking at pictures of you, mommy.”

She hummed, seemingly unconvinced, but you couldn’t tell for sure now that you were sprawled out across her lap, unable to see her face.

A thumb delved into your folds and spread you open, revealing just how sticky you’d gotten all on your own.

“It’s disgusting how good you seemed to have felt while knowing you were disobeying your mommy,” she said. “Mommy is very, very disappointed in you, honey, and not only because you disobeyed me, but because this filthy little cunt is telling me that you have no problem doing big girl things on your own. Does it feel better on your own, Y/N?”

“No, mama!”

“How will you prove it to me?”

“I can prove it to you — I can. I’ll take my spankings, mommy. I’m a good girl. I am. I made a mistake, but I love my mommy and I don’t want to do anything without mommy’s help. I was being selfish and I just missed you so much.”

“That’s sweet, honey. Indeed, you will have made it up to me should you take your spankings like a good, obedient girl. I understand little things like you make mistakes, and perhaps if it were any other day, I might choose not to punish you at all. But because you chose to be selfish today, I see it fit that I get to be selfish too. I’ve had a terrible day, and I want to be able to do what I want with my little girl to make me feel better. Does that sound fair to you, angel?”

You nodded quickly.

“Good,” Wanda said, “because mommy is feeling very, very upset.”

Worrying that perhaps if you questioned her at all you might set her off even more, but feeling curious anyways, you cautiously asked, “Why are you upset, mama…?”

Wanda took a handful of your ass, inspecting its soft, supple skin being taken into her hand. “Dealing with dim-witted idiots who seem to have no intention of saying anything worth anyone’s time yet taking it all up nevertheless has made mommy rather frustrated,” she answered. “Do you know how frustrating it is, baby, to expect so much more from someone, only to be disappointed?”

You were sure the question was rhetorical, so you could bury your face in your arms in shame while mommy delivered your first spank, eliciting a muffled yelp from you.

She continued, “I pour so much time and effort into those useless city council meetings, and yet it’s always the school district representatives that get overlooked. You have no idea how upset it makes me, angel, to come home and see you fucking a pillow of all things, because you were too much of a desperate, horny slut to listen to mommy’s rules.”

Another spank.

Wanda squeezed your ass and dug her fingers into your stinging skin.

“I want to hear you apologise again,” she demanded.

Immediately, you raised your head and said, “I’m sorry for not listening to mommy’s rules! I’m so sorry, mommy.”

Spank.

“What rules did you break, exactly, Y/N?” she pressed.

You swiped at your eyes and answered, “Baby isn’t allowed to touch her big girl parts and do big girl things without mommy’s permission.”

Another spank — this time, one on both sides of your ass.

“Why did mommy make that rule, sweetheart?”

“Because I’m too little to make big girl decisions,” you said, “and only mommy is big enough to know what’s best for me.”

Wanda rewarded your answer with a quick swipe of her thumb through your pussy, lightly grazing against your clit, before returning her hand to squeezing at your ass. “And don’t you see what happens when little girls make big girl decisions? Hm?” she pried. “Now you’re all filthy and ill-mannered, and mommy did not train you to be like that.”

Then suddenly, mommy was spanking you over and over, all over your ass, covering your delicate skin in flushed shades and trails of her nails.

“No one seems to want to listen to me today, honey,” she gritted. “And I thought that my baby, out of everyone, would respect mommy enough to listen to her.”

Seemingly propelled forward by the verbalisation of her anger, Wanda used one hand to spread your ass and delivered a spank to your pussy, making you cry out into the bed sheets.

“Nevermind the other idiots from the council, but I walked into this room feeling very betrayed and ignored by the sweetest, most beloved thing I’ve ever made mine,” Wanda explained sternly. “And there are not enough words in English nor Sokovian that could sufficiently express to you how upset that makes me feel, bunny.”

It was not the pain from the spankings that made you break, but instead, it was mommy talking about how betrayed and ignored she felt that did it.

“I didn’t mean to make mama feel bad,” you sniffled and rubbed at your eyes with the back of your wrist.

Wanda paused her spankings and replied, “I didn’t quite catch that, sweetheart.”

You raised your head and took in a deep breath to steady yourself before saying, “I was just being selfish, mama. I really love mommy so much.” You rubbed your eyes again when tears started forming. “I’m not a big girl. I still need my mommy. I’m still just a baby and I still need mommy.”

From the way you were facing, you couldn’t see what mommy looked like when you said all that, and you weren’t sure if you were about to see what other punishments she had in store for when you disobeyed her even further.

You buried your face in your arms again and shut your eyes.

“Why don’t you tell mommy more about that?” Wanda asked, her voice smooth but not indicative of if she was upset or not.

Sniffling, you turned your head to the side so she’d be able to hear you when you spoke. “About what, mama…?”

A soft hand ran down the expanse of your stinging ass, almost soothingly.

“About how much you need your mommy,” she clarified. “Come on, honey. I want to hear about how my sweet little girl still needs her mommy.”

You wiped your face of your tears and raised your head.

“U-Um,” you stuttered, now feeling a little shy now that mama was asking for all your mushy feelings about her. “Well, I’ll always need mommy. Need mama to dress baby and make breakfast and cut up baby’s fruits in little shapes.”

The more you talked about it, the more lighthearted you became, and you perked up a bit as you started thinking more and more about what you needed Wanda for. “And!” you started again, excitedly. “And I need mommy to give me baths and cuddle me and give me kisses when I have nightmares. And I need mommy to hold my hand when I’m scared, and I need mommy to help me do big girl things.”

While you were speaking, Wanda kept rubbing her palm softly against your ass, and you imagined that she was pleased with what she was hearing for she stopped spanking you and talking about how upset her day had made her.

And mommy always liked petting her baby like that when she was content, like when you laid your head in her lap or when you were resting back against her in the bath.

“I like hearing these pretty things coming out of your mouth, honey,” Wanda said, sounding truly very grateful.

Then, she pressed a kiss to both sides of your flushed ass and gave you a gentle pat. “Come up and sit with mommy,” she said. “Are you alright? You aren’t feeling too hurt?”

Carefully and modestly as to not be improper by suddenly getting up and jumping into bed with mommy, although you certainly did want to, you sat up and followed mama to where she positioned herself against the headboard.

You shook your head and crawled over to her, where she sat you down on her lap and took you into her arms. “Feeling okay, mama,” you answered.

Wanda smiled, and she seemed much more relaxed than she did earlier. She stroked your cheek with her thumb and kissed the tip of your nose. “That’s good, sweetheart,” she whispered.

She looked down at you in a way that made you just absolutely melt, the way she was holding you close and petting your hair and touching your face.

“Do you want mommy to make you feel good?” she asked, trailing a hand down to your lower stomach.

You thought for a moment and Wanda waited patiently, until you cuddled closer and shook your head. Gently, you tugged on one of the buttons of her burgundy blouse and looked up at her pleadingly.

The picture of you suckling from mama still rang clear in your head, and really, it had been that picture that tipped you over the edge.

“Oh my,” she breathed out, impressed as she raised her eyebrows. “My little girl always has the best ideas, hm?”

Wanda pinched your nose, which made you giggle, before she began unbuttoning her blouse, doing it slowly enough so you could watch each one come undone, exposing more and more of her.

She looked at you with a smile on her face as you watched her unbutton her shirt, simply taken by how much love her little girl had for her.

When her blouse was unbuttoned with just her bra keeping you from her breasts, Wanda leaned down and kissed your lips and then your forehead.

You hooked a finger around her bra and looked up at her for permission. She gave you a single nod and, eagerly, you pulled her bra down and released one of her breasts.

Wanda brought you forward, and your lips immediately latched onto her nipple. She sighed in satisfaction and she leaned back against the headboard, stroking your head softly as you sucked.

“That’s good, bunny,” she whispered and brushed the corner of your mouth with her thumb. “Ah, your lips are so gentle.”

After a few tender moments, a sudden thought came to you and you unlatched from mommy’s nipple and looked up at her before asking quietly, “Why did you have those pictures, mommy?”

“The pictures of the two of us, angel?” she asked and looked down at you cuddled against her. She tapped your nose with her finger. “The one you were being all naughty with earlier?”

You blushed and turned your face away a little.

Wanda’s other hand that cradled the back of your head used its fingers to tilt your head the other way so you were looking back over at her. “I couldn’t stop looking at them on my phone and decided to get them printed. I was planning on sharing them with you soon, but I couldn’t find the right time,” she told you, her voice sweet and soft.

“It’s partially my fault — what happened earlier,” she then added, her fingers stroking your cheek. “I shouldn’t have kept the treats out where my little kitten could find them.”

She smiled when you giggled and she leaned down to kiss your forehead.

Then Wanda said quietly, “Thank you for being so sweet and patient with me, baby.” She hugged you closer so you could rest your head on her chest. “I know you did something bad today, but I didn’t have to be as harsh with your punishment as I was. I was just very upset, and seeing you do such things without me made me feel very left out.”

You looked up at her from her, nearly about to tell her how much you loved her again, but Wanda could understand it from how you looked at her.

“It’s okay for you to make mistakes sometimes, sweetheart, especially when I know you did it just because you missed me. I lost my temper, is all. Thank you for caring for me by being so understanding, even when I was being a little mean. Even little girls care for their mommies too, you know.”

Sitting up a bit, you wrapped your arms around her shoulders and hugged her. “I wanna care for mommy forever and ever,” you voiced proudly.

“Only if I get to be your mommy forever and ever,” Wanda teased, kissing your cheek and rubbing your back with her other hand.

“I’ll always need mommy.”

“Then I’ll always need my little girl.”

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #elizabeth olsen

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floral-hex · 2 years

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I brought my youngest brother to this chess tournament in central arkansas. I got about 1 whole hour of sleep last night, then proceeded to down a triple shot, a 5 hour energy, and a big coke on the drive.

My heart has got a bad case of the FAST & S L O W.

#and I’ll be here for another… 9 hours? about-ish?#and my Internet signal here is pretty poor so I can’t do much on my phone #luckily I brought a book but ya know… I get antsy #anyway…#if anyone is at this chess tournament in central arkansas…. actually nvm I don’t wanna meet anyone #the receptionist is kinda cute though. hey receptionist you look like someone with a tumblr (derogatory). you look cool as hell.#if you see this ignore me #I’m just gonna stare into the wood grain of this table until my mind leaves my body #so anyway hey how’s everyone doing #some dude just came up. he saw my book and told me he just read The Name of The Wind and I should check it out #so that was cool. not sarcastic. someone saw me and immediately was like ‘I know a killer book this dude would like.’#amazing.#I would die for you dude #… im really starting to get ‘out of it’#my attention is untethered and I keep zoning out #i’m not even really paying attention to these tags right now #ok I love you #keep it sleazy #text

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m2ok · 2 months

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Golden Salvation

pt.2

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Male Reader

A/N: HI GUYS!!! IM BACK!!! It’s been… a hot minute, and I apologize for my sudden disappearance (And all the unanswered asks which I will eventually get to don’t worry!) But here is a fic to make up for it! This is just part one, and while I have the rest planned out let me know if you guys even like this and want me to continue :)

Batwing doors opened, a heavy squeak following their movement as the result of rusted hinges, Heavy footsteps hit against equally creaky wooden floors with slow and methodical steps. One Simon Riley came waltzing in… a smirk on his face and his hat tilted low over his eyes as the other people in the saloon looked away.

Everyone knew of him; it was damn near impossible not to with his reputation. He sat down on a worn stool, a gruff sigh leaving his lips as he took his hat off and rested it on the bar in front of him. His eyes, you would swear, glimmered when he looked up at you from his place on his seat, a rare moment when you were taller than him.

“Hi, pretty boy” he cooed “Miss me much?”

You couldn’t help the smile that formed on your lips, rolling your eyes as you set the glasses you had been polishing down. Without so much as a word yet you leaned over, plucking his hat from the wood it was settled on to place it on your head instead, a sort of teasing only you could hope to get away with.

“Hey there, Cowboy” you said, flicking the hat, his hat, up over your eyes so you could see properly. “’Course I missed ya… yer my favorite customer after all” Though you teased, you both knew he was much more than a regular customer.

Simons lips curled into an easy smirk as he gazed up at you, eyebrows quirking with intrigue.

“Well now, aint you looking pretty as a picture” he drawled, reaching up to trace his thumb along your jawline. A low chuckle rumbled deep from his chest- he always did love your teasing spirit.

“Favorite, huh? Reckon I’ll hold ya to that, darling” His eyes darkened just a touch as he leaned in, breath whispering against your skin. There was an unspoken question there, a hungry gleam that promised all sorts of trouble if you chose to indulge him.

For now, Simon simply toyed with the worn brim of his hat atop your head, satisfaction radiating off him in waves.

“Sure, do feel mighty fine seein’ my colors on ya. Been far too long” he’d comment.

You would hum as you leaned into his gentle touch, an almost laughable dichotomy when compared to the blood that had been spilled by them. You gazed up at him with adoring, devoted eyes.

“I could be in your colors every night if youd stay” you’d whisper, your words for him and only him to hear. It was almost impossible to get Simon to stay with you longer than a week anymore and he would get antsy to hit the wild again, his soul calling for him to wander from town to town.

Simon’s breath hitched at your words; eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he savored the simple intimacy you graced him with. Things were never simple with him – his was a dangerous line of work that more often than not left him with a target on his back.

And yet…the way you looked at him, like he hung the very stars in the sky…it was downright bewitching. Made a man forget all his wrongs and want to be redeemed.

“Darlin’” he sighed, rough palms gently cupping your cheek. His expression was unusually soft and vulnerable, a rare peek behind a steely façade. “Aint nothin’ I want more than to stay wrapped up in you forever…but ya know I got debts to pay, and it aint safe…”

His voice trailed off, unspoken realities lingering heavily in the air between you two. Staying was a risk he wasn’t sure he had the right to take, no matter how much you stirred his soul.

You would nod, glancing away from his eyes as you slowly leaned back up from where you were resting on your elbows, allowing his hand to leave your cheek as you created a space of distance. Both physically and mentally.

All you wanted was to be his entirely, but it wasn’t in the cards for you. “I know…” you’d acknowledge, a sad sort of smile permeating your lips. Part of you believed he liked the outlaw life, and could you rightly blame him? Going from town to town with nothing tethering you down for too long. Being able to leave with the sunrise, the only person you were answering to being yourself.

But oh how you longed every night to be the thing he wanted to come home to, to be the reason he would stay.

You would carefully take the hat off your head, placing it back down on his own, your actions a silent understanding of his words.

Simon would frown as you withdrew, immediately missing the reassuring presence of you in his space. He knew this life caused you pain – knew he was the source of it, in a way. But old habits die hard, and walking the outlaw’s path was engrained deep in his blood.

Reaching up, his fingers curled carefully around your wrist before you could pull away fully. Not to stop you, merely to offer quiet solace in his touch.

“I ain’t never meant to string you along, darlin’” he said gruffly “Fact is… part of me does like ridin’ the wind. But another part…” His gazed flicked meaningfully to where his hand held you, imploring you to believe the sincerity in his eyes.

“Another part thinks it might be time to settle. Plant my feet somewhere they can’t be dug up so easy. And there ain’t no other plot of soil that calls to me like you do”

It was as close to a declaration as Simon had ever come. His walls were crumbling away piece by piece in your presence.

You would carefully pry his hand from his wrist, picking up your rag and a fresh glass to polish, avoiding his eyes as you worked. “I believe you Simon, really I do…But that’s only part of you” Youd say, stealing a glance over at him.

“I couldn’t ask you to ignore that other part, what kinda man would I be if I asked that of you?” you’d say.

Simons fingers flexed instinctively as your hand slipped free, the loss resonating deep in his core. He sighed, long and low, tipped hat casting shadows across his weathered features.

You spoke the brutal truth – he was far too wild a creature to ever truly be named. And you, with your heart of gold…you deserved someone whole, not half a man forever torn between two worlds.

“I reckon yer right, as usual” He said gruffly, rueful smile playing at his lips. And yet his eyes remained dark, conflicted, as if desperately seeking an alternative solution you both knew did not exist.

This was your tragedy, written in the stars from the beginning. Two souls who fit together perfectly, if only the fates had not made them for different paths.

Reaching out, Simon gave your hand a final gentle squeeze before releasing in once more. “Ya never stop amazin’ me darlin’. I sure as hell don’t deserve ya. But I aim to prove myself worthy, one of these days.”

His words trailed off into weighted silence. For now, this was goodbye. Somewhere deep in his soul Simon swore it wouldn’t be the last, couldn’t be.

Simon rose from the stool with a grunt, his hat settled over his brow as he gave the saloon one last lingering sweep. Memories of your sweetness lingered in every splintered beam, in every scratch in the wooden floor where his bootheels had worn down the polish of years past.

This place had become more home to him than any house of sticks or stones ever could, all because of you.

With a sigh, Simon pushed through those familiar batwing doors out into the dusty street. Sunset painted the sky a flaming orange, shadows stretched long across the dirt. Another night was falling…and he had a debt to collect before morning came.

But in his heart of hearts, he felt a seed had planted, a hope that one day he might return to stay. For good.

You would retreat to your little home for the night after closing the saloon, doing your best to put the conversation in a box in your mind as you slipped into bed for the night. Another evening with the other side cold as the steel Simon holstered. You could only bite back tears as you closed your eyes, desperate to find solace in sleep.

It wasn’t but three hours later, after you had long drifted off into the reprieve that was your dreamscape, that you were awoken to the sound of glass shattering. You would jolt up, heart nearly beating out of your chest as a figure stalked into the room, their movements slow and at ease before they stepped into the moonlight and their face came into view.

“well well well…” the man said, a dark glint in his eyes “If it aint Ghosts little plaything” The man grinned, hand on the hilt of his belt as he took out his gun, pointing it right at you.

#cod modern warfare #cod x reader #cod fanfic #cod imagine #cod x male reader #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost x male reader #simon ghost riley x male reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x male reader #fanfic #male reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader

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sapphire-writes · 4 months

Text

Pretty Little Thing

summary: After finding yourself at a holiday party you hadn't wanted to attend in the first place, Aemond Targaryen makes it worth while.

pairing: modern!Aemond x Reader

warnings: 18+/NSFW/MDNI - smut, oral fem receiving, fingering, spanking, praise, slight dirty talk, overstim, kissing, love bites, hand over mouth, titty play, allusions to Aegon being a creeper, alcohol, smoking, langauge

word count: 7.2k

note: im back! grad school didn't kill me! hope you enjoy!

link to other stories from me!

To be notified when I post something new, be sure to follow @sapphire-writes-updates & turn notifications on 💙

—

Be there soon.

Alysanne had texted you nearly an hour ago, and with each passing minute you became more doubtful she’d be making an appearance at all.

You hadn’t even wanted to come. It’d been her idea and now she was blowing you off.

“We’re just exchanging the last of our things,” she’d promised on the phone several hours earlier, “You go on without me and I’ll meet you there.”

Yeah. Because it takes three hours to give your ex-boyfriend his stuff back. Totally.

Alysanne and Cregan Stark had been on and off again since you’d known her; this time was no exception. You knew from her first running later than I thought text that the night wasn’t going to go as you’d hoped.

You decide to like her most recent message instead of replying, unable to stop the wave of annoyance cresting inside of you.

You hadn’t even wanted to come.

An end-of-semester holiday party. Thrown by the elder Lannister siblings; twins Jason and Tyland. The kings of Casterly Rock are well known for their extravagant get-togethers and the unimaginable generational wealth that funds all their exploits.

They’d long graduated from King’s Landing University, but you and Alysanne scored an invite courtesy of Cerelle Lannister, their younger sister, whom you’d been trying to avoid since you arrived. If Cerelle didn’t see you, perhaps you could escape the party unscathed.

That hope proves too good to be true as your name is called from across the room. You slide your phone back into your pocket as Cerelle approaches you. Her blonde hair hangs in effortless curls down her back, the emerald green top she wears accentuating its golden hues, along with her bright green eyes.

You’re not exactly close with Cerelle, though she appears to enjoy your friendship, at least on a surface level. She’s part of the weekly book club you attend. Her grin widens as she reaches you, eyes drinking you in.

“Darling!” she muses, pressing a kiss against your cheek.

“You wore it!” she says, fingers ghosting across the cashmere cardigan you’d chosen to wear that evening. Cerelle had bought it for you a few weeks ago, though you’d begged her not to; the price was more than you made in a paycheck.

Alysanne once referred to you as Cerelle’s Polly Pocket.

“She pulls you out of her pocket and plays dress up. It’s fucking weird,” she’d said.

Cerelle’s lips curve upwards in a Cheshire cat grin as she slings an arm around your shoulder, bringing her glossed lips next to your ear.

“Stop moping in the corner like some dreary wallflower,” she purrs, brushing some hair behind your ear, “Have some fun! It’s winter break!”

Goosebumps break out on your skin at her affections. You laugh breathlessly shrugging away from her touch causing her to frown.

“You haven’t had enough to drink,” she insists, reaching for another glass, “You’re much too antsy.”

“Alysanne was supposed to be here,” you tell her and she nods understanding, looping her arm through yours and giving your forearm a comforting pat.

“Fashionably late as always, I suppose,” Cerelle drolls, pointing across the room, “There are lots of fascinating characters here who’ll distract you. Shall I spin a bottle to decide?”

“Hilarious,” you tell her, shaking your head.

“I never joke about a good shag,” Cerelle argues, gaze flickering about the room, “From the looks of it you could use it.” She turns back to you, matching your pout. “Don’t frown, you look too lovely.” She places her hands on your cheeks, thumbs tugging the corner of your lips upwards.

“Much better,” she praises as you hold the smile she’s decorated your face with, “Come on let's find you someone…don’t look at me like that! Someone to flirt with, that’s all. A bit of harmless fun.”

You roll your eyes earning a pitch on the arm and you swat Cerelle’s hand away.

“There’s no one here I want to flirt with,” you insist, following her gaze around the room, “Let alone shag.”

“You’re too picky,” she muses, tapping a manicured nail against her chin as she scans the room, “What about Greyjoy?”

A shiver rolls through you, “No thank you.”

“Heard he’s good in the sack.”

You’d heard a lot of things about Dalton Greyjoy. None of which made you want to spend an extended period of alone time with him. You glance at Cerelle giving her a firm look. She sighs, returning to her mission.

“You need someone,” Cerelle insists after you shoot down several more options, “You haven’t been with anyone since—what was it again?”

His face flashes through your mind before you can help it.

“Unimportant,” you quip, “Cerelle, I just want to—” Your words die as two new guests bound up the stairs into the main hallway.

Suddenly, it’s as if all the air has been sucked from the room, your heartbeat echoing in your ears the only sound you can hear. You tug Cerelle closer, eyes wide.

“You invited them?” you hiss, as Cerelle frowns, following your gaze.

“Not me. Jason must have,” she answers, “It’s not a party without Aegon. Jay swears he has the best coke on this side of the Keep.”

Aegon Targaryen is relatively harmless as long as you keep your drink close. You’re more concerned with the tall figure who lurks closely behind him. Though the younger, Aemond Targaryen towers over his brother; his presence makes the room feel smaller, colder than it was moments ago. He’s dressed in all black, as he usually is, the silver chain around his neck the only other color. His long snow-white hair is braided down his back, an eyepatch securely covering his left eye.

He never takes it off.

Aegon pushes by his brother making a beeline for the kitchen where most of the chaos is localized. You can tell a new drinking game has begun by the sound of cheers and the echo of glasses clinking together. Aegon’s eyes lit up as he disappeared down the hall, eager to join the miscellaneous fun.

Aegon loves a good party.

Aemond watches his brother but lingers behind in the living room leaning against a wall. He extends a long arm to the bookshelf retrieving one with his long fingers. He flicks open a few pages, lips pursing. He glances up, violet eye meeting yours for the briefest moment.

Your lips part and you look away, warmth flooding your cheeks. You had shared a couple of classes with Aemond, nothing more nothing less. He was quite mysterious.

“Anyway,” Cerelle says, her attention wavering with each passing second, “Back to you drinking. I’ll get you another glass. Loosen up, pet.”

—

You try to, you really do. No matter what her intentions are, Cerelle has been nothing but nice to you, so you allow her antics. An hour has ticked by and Alysanne has yet to respond to your latest text message. Squeezed between Cerelle and Sabitha Frey during another round of quarters you decide to plan your escape.

“I’m going to get some air,” you tell her, rising from the couch. Cerelle rolls her eyes, “I’m not leaving, I swear!”

“You better not!” she says, perfectly sculpted eyebrows knitting together, “I’ll come to fetch you if you’re gone too long—you know I will.”

She’s telling the truth.

“Five minutes,” you insist, forcing a smile.

Cerelle’s nose twitches but she lets it go and nods, returning her attention to the game.

Weaving through the sea of people you make your way outside letting the door shut behind you as you walk down a few steps of the front stoop. It’s colder than you expected, you can see your breath in front of you.

You stand shivering, trying to decide what to do next. Reaching into your pocket, you check your phone for the time. You could leave, make your escape down the steps, and catch the last bus back to Maegor’s Holdfast.

If you stay any longer, you’ll be forced to spend the night or dip into your savings to splurge on an Uber. It’s always crazy expensive on this side of town as if the drivers know the neighborhood is full of rich kids.

The door opens and noise from the party fills the cool night until it slams shut once more. You roll your eyes expecting Cerelle as you turn your head.

Only it isn’t her.

Aemond Targaryen lingers on the top step, reaching into his jacket pocket and placing a cigarette between his teeth. He finds a lighter a moment later, a nice expensive one, flicking it open with a sharp click. Fire blooms in the palm of his hand and you can just make out the three-headed dragon branded on the side of the silver lighter before it disappears into his pocket again.

He releases a cloud of smoke into the air, mimicking the one your breath makes. You turn away as he walks down a few steps, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

“You were in my class,” he says suddenly, his head tilting to the side, “History of The First Men, right?”

You force your lips together. “Mhmm,” you answer, surprised he recognized you.

Aemond Targaryen didn’t seem the type to remember a random girl in his class. Smart as hells, he focused solely on his grades, paying little attention to the rest of the student body. He seemed to be the antithesis of his elder brother. Though incredibly different, supposedly they had similar lustful appetites.

One for pleasures of the flesh, the other for academic validation.

Aegon Targaryen was a known party boy and ran in multiple social circles. He didn’t care about class or popularity; if there was sex, liquor, and drugs around, Aegon Targaryen would be there.

However, there were stories about Aemond too that made their way around campus.

“You alright?” he pressed, the silence laying heavy between you.

“I shouldn’t even be talking to you right now,” you breathe, chuckling slightly as you rub your arms as the frigid air bites into your exposed flesh.

Aemond quirks a brow at that, taking another drag of his cigarette. “Why’s that?”

“You’re sort of a banned topic at book club,” you admit, causing his lips to curl into a small smirk.

“Am I?”

“Mhmm.”

Another moment of silence goes by before his curiosity gets the better of him. “Because?”

“Maris runs it,” you tell him, and he clicks his tongue, nodding to himself before taking another drag of his cigarette.

Maris Baratheon, the elder of a pair of Irish twins. Floris Baratheon, once the object of Aemond’s affection for about a half second, was royally screwed over when he left her for none other than Alys Rivers. Adjunct Professor. It was quite the scandal at the time.

You’re not exactly friends with Floris; closer to Maris if you had to choose. But it's the principle of things—girl code.

“Floris and I were never exclusive,” Aemond comments.

“Yikes.”

So maybe Aemond Targaryen is just like every other guy. Though, you’re mostly sure he’s telling the truth. The story you’d heard was that he ghosted her.

“She shouldn’t have assumed,” he continues, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

You roll your eyes, blood boiling at his statement as annoyance begins to quicken in your belly. Aemond Targaryen seems more like his elder with every word that leaves his curved lips.

“Right, of course not, how dare she,” is your sarcastic reply.

Aemond tilts his head toward the sky, speaking around the cigarette.

“You seem rather upset,” he accuses, “Funny, Floris never mentioned you.”

You turn to face him fully and he glances at you out of the corner of his eye. Folding your arms across your chest you jut your hip out. “We’re not friends. It’s the principle of it all. I don’t like assholes.”

His perfect lips curl slightly. “I’m an asshole?”

“Mhmm. At least Aegon owns up to his behavior, he doesn’t pretend he’s some suave guy doing nothing wrong.”

You swear a smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he plucks the cigarette from between them.

“Is that what I’m doing?”

“Sure seems like it.”

Aemond takes a step closer then. You have to tilt your head to look him in the eye. Something about being this close to him is almost unnerving, your stomach drops slightly as you focus on his prominent cheekbones.

“It’s not my problem if a girl gets her hopes up after getting fucked properly,” he counters.

Your breath hitches in your throat and you back up, slightly slipping against the icy railing. Aemond reaches out, his hand curling around your bicep to steady you. It’s warm, almost hot; the heat seeps through your thin sweater in the shape of his fingers.

There’s a tension between you as he holds your arm for a second too long, before the door opens and several partygoers stumble down the steps, forcing you to break apart. Aemond takes another drag of his cigarette from across the stairs as they laugh tumbling into the street. You’re grateful for the distraction, taking a moment to slow the frantic beating of your heart, and the slight flutter in your stomach.

“So,” you begin, trying to break the awkward silence the partygoers left behind with their departure, “How do you know Cerelle?”

Aemond looks at you quizzically.

“How do I know Cerelle?”

You jerk your chin up in a hasty nod. Aemond chuckles, shaking his head and taking another drag.

“Family friend,” he answers, “Old money likes to stick together.”

You nod again, unsure of how to answer as he observes you.

“Surely you’ve heard of the Westerosi Seven?” he asks.

You haven’t.

“The what?”

“The seven families,” Aemond says, his tone indicating that this is somewhat common knowledge, “Generational wealth that can be traced back to medieval times. The higher lords and ladies. Near royalty.” He takes another drag.

“And you’re one of them?” you ask, crossing your arms.

“My family, yes,” he answers, “And Cerelle’s. The Baratheon girls. Stark. They’re all quite close.”

“Interesting,” you tell him, glancing down the street again, “You sound like the mafia.”

Aemond holds your gaze, not denying your allegation. You release a breathless laugh, but unease settles in your gut.

The door opens as if on cue, and Cerelle pops her head out.

“Darling! Come back inside you’ll catch your death,” she calls, waving you forward. She spots Aemond out of the corner of her eye, and you don’t miss the look of interest that gathers in her green eyes as they flicker between the pair of you, “Targaryen.”

“CeCe,” he politely greets, choosing to use the nickname Cerelle often kept reserved for her family only. She doesn’t comment on Aemond’s choice.

“Hope you’re being nice to my girl,” she says, the words clipped.

“Of course,” Aemond comments and you can’t help but feel like you aren’t there.

Cerelle glances back at you, a smile decorating her face once more.

“Come on, pet! In the kitchen.”

Her blonde hair disappears in the door. Aemond walks down the remainder of the steps tossing his cigarette to the ground and stomping it beneath his heel.

“Best run along,” he muses, not turning to face you, “She doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Annoyance prickles under your skin.

“She’s my friend—”

“You have got a very generous friend,” Aemond comments, turning to face you. He motions at your sweater. “Myrish, isn’t it?”

You cross your hands over your chest.

“Mhmm,” Aemond hums glancing up at you from the bottom step, “I’d just be careful if I were you. Accepting gifts from rich strangers is a lot like Persephone eating the pomegranate seeds.”

You scoff at the implication before turning away and heading back into the townhouse. Aemond does not follow; you don’t hear the door open as you hurry back up the stairs.

The party has since moved completely to the kitchen, sans a couple making out on the living room couch. You enter the crowded space and crane your neck to see what everyone is cheering at.

It’s something happening on the marble island, but you don’t see what—that is until Cerelle sits up, her blonde curls cascading around her face, a lime between her pearly white teeth like a cat with a mouse.

She smiles curling her finger, beckoning Aegon Targaryen forward. He leans against her, bringing his mouth to hers and stealing the lime. The juice flows down his chin before he lets it fall, pressing a sloppy kiss to Cerelle’s lips, earning several cheers.

As she breaks away she notices you, eyes lighting up as she slips off the counter.

“Good, you didn’t leave!” she says giggling, “It’s your turn.”

“My turn?” you ask, heart dropping into your stomach.

“Mhmm,” she says, dragging you forward, “Up now!”

“Cerelle, I don’t—”

“Hush! Qyle Martell is doing it,” she says biting her lip suggestively, “Let the sexy Dornishman take a shot off you, alright?”

Your cheeks darken as he appears before you, arms wrapping around your waist and lifting you onto the counter like a lamb for slaughter. The crowd cheers and your eyes widen as you meet Qyle’s warm brown eyes.

“Your sweater,” he says, motioning to it with his hand that clutches a bottle of tequila.

You glance at Cerelle and she nods encouragingly. Over her head and in the doorway you spot Aemond. He didn’t leave after all. Instead, he leans against the doorframe, observing the chaos with a curled lip, as if the entire thing is beneath him.

Qyle whistles, drawing your attention back to him. He motions to your sweater yet again.

“Oh,” you tell him, moving to unbutton it.

Thank goodness you wore a tank top underneath. Your fingers slip with nerves as you struggle to unbutton it. You’re the center of attention, peers cheering and chanting around you as you struggle with the bottoms.

Quite the sacrificial lamb you are.

“Here, can I help?” Qyle asks, reaching toward you, his fingers bumping against your own. The bottle of tequila sloshes.

“No—no I’ve got it—oh!”

You’d moved wrong, done something wrong—or perhaps someone pushed him you’re not sure. Your head is buzzing with the noise of the room and suddenly the front of your sweater is doused in tequila. Qyle’s eyes are wide as Cerelle pushes him to the side as the smell of alcohol fills your nose.

The room quiets momentarily until Cerelle’s bell-like laugh pierces through the silence.

“Qyle you idiot,” Cerelle sneers, nose wrinkling with playful distaste, “You’re supposed to wait till she’s laying down—”

“It was an accident!”

“—and her sweater!” Cerelle growls in annoyance, “Go upstairs, pet, my room. Pick anything you like.”

You slide off of the counter, hurrying from the room, leaving the sound of music and chanting behind as you move deeper into the labyrinth of the Lannister home.

—

Cerelle’s room lacks color and warmth.

You’d spent the night once here before, crawling into the white feather bed after too much mulled wine. Cerelle had stroked your hair until you’d fallen asleep, only to awake the next morning with a severe headache and a churning belly.

Popping the rest of the buttons, you peel the soaked sweater from your body and throw it in the hamper. You then walk over to Cerelle’s closet—double doors—and open it. Expensive. Perfumed. You’ve already ruined one pretty thing. Though Cerelle could hardly care about the expense, you do. You sigh, gently pushing through the soft fabric.

“Playing dress up?” a voice calls, and you turn to Aemond at the door.

You close the closet door. You’ll just have to survive in your thin top. Aemond holds a glass of whiskey between his long fingers.

“Well, I suppose that was a given,” you answer him, sitting down on the bed.

Aemond watches you from the doorway, his arm raised above his head, fingers tapping nonsensically against the frame.

“D’you want to see how you’re supposed to do it?” he suddenly asks.

“Do what?” you question, tilting your head to the side.

“What Qyle was going to do,” he answers, and you understand his meaning.

Aemond walks over to you, the ice rattling against the glass he lazily grips between his fingers, coming to stand in front of your legs. You’re not sure why he’s asking, what interest he has in you. But something in your belly tightens the closer he gets.

“Alright,” you give him a quiet answer, the word barely slipping past your lips.

Aemond purses his lips, glancing down at your legs.

“Spread them,” he says softly, motioning with the cup. Warmth creeps up the back of your neck and blooms on the apples of your cheeks. You lock eyes with him, focusing on the ring of violet that surrounds his pupil. You do as you’re told, knees parting; his gaze hypnotizing. “Wider.”

Your skirt tightens against your thighs as you do so, but you spread your legs wide enough for him to stand between them. He takes a step forward and you’re forced to look up at him.

“Lean back,” he instructs. You’re beginning to notice how easily he slips into the domineering role. Again you follow his instructions, cheeks burning as you lean back, propping yourself on your elbows.

You’re much more exposed without your sweater, the tops of your breasts visible in the thin top you wear. Aemond steps closer, looming over you, heat radiating from his tall form.

He reaches out, fingers caressing your cheek. You hope he can’t feel how warm they’ve become, feel your pulse fluttering against his fingers as they trail underneath your jaw and down your neck until they reach your collarbone.

“You’re to put salt here,” he murmurs, pressing against the dip of your collarbone for emphasis, “That’s first.” He leans down then, fingers trailing over your shoulder and down your arm leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. “Though we’re without.”

You swallow as his fingers continue to trace your collarbone. His violet eye watches you carefully before he pulls his hand away. He brings them lower, ghosting down your ribs until they reach your waist.

“May I?” he asks, fingers at the hem of your shirt. You give him a wordless nod, not able to trust your voice. Aemond pushes the fabric up slightly, revealing your navel. He holds the glass above your stomach; a drop of condensation falls causing you to flinch at the cool sensation.

Aemond flicks a brow at the constriction of your abdomen, “You’re quite sensitive.”

“It’s cold.”

“Mhmm,” he agrees, turning the glass so more condensation falls; little raindrops begin to adorn your skin, “The liquor goes here.” His fingers ruin the pattern he’s created, rough fingertips swirling the dew drops around your navel, “Tequila.”

“We haven’t got any,” you breathlessly tell him, his touch leaving a scorched trail across your belly.

Aemond brings his glass closer, pressing the edge against the beginning of your belly button, letting some whiskey pool there. Your hands clenched into fists as the cold liquid fills you up; you watch as it shakes slightly, overflowing. Aemond leans forward, catching the spill with his mouth causing a gasp that sounds more like a moan to leave your mouth. His mouth covers your navel and you can feel his tongue swirl around, collecting the liquid he poured there with hot, calculated strokes.

His violet eye peers up at you from behind silver lashes, half-lidded as he hollows his cheeks sucking harshly. He reaches toward the side table, mouth never leaving you, to place his glass on the edge freeing his hand. You can feel his tongue circling your navel, gently probing the sensitive skin. You can’t help the giggle that escapes you at the ticklish sensation. Aemond presses his hands against your obliques before releasing you with a pop, his chin and lips shining.

“That’s how it's supposed to be,” he murmurs, not moving from the spot between your legs. Some of his silver hair has fallen across his brow, and on instinct you reach forward, brushing it from his eyes.

“There’s one more part,” you tell him, fingers grazing the beginning of the scar that mares his left brow before disappearing behind the patch.

“What’s that?” he asks, his gaze revealing he knows the answer.

He just wants to hear you say it, you realize.

Your lips part, fingers still somewhat tangled in his hair; the strands soft as silk between your fingers.

“There was a lime,” you tell him, “The person….holds it in their mouth.”

Aemond pushes up then, his hands sliding up your sides until they’re pressed into the bed on either side of you, his face inches from your own.

“Have you got a lime on you?” he asks, his breath warm on your face, the scent of whiskey strong between you.

“No,” you murmur, not knowing where to look. He’s so close you can see the flecks of blue and gold in the lilac iris of his eye, count his silver lashes, and notice the small indentation on the tip of his prominent nose.

He hums again, his eye dropping to your lips.

“Pity,” he says, lips down turning into a pout.

Your heart is nearly beating out of your chest with the way it's pounding incessantly against your ribcage. He’s so close your chests are practically touching; your nipples straining against the fabric of your top. His chain peeks out from under the collar of his shirt and your resolve crumbles. Your eyes flicker to his lips, tongue darting out to wet your own and he leans forward, capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

Your hands wrap around his neck as he kisses you; his lips so soft and firm against your own, skilled tongue parting them with ease to deepen the kiss. A moan doesn’t make it out of your throat as his hand cradles your jaw, the sound of soft kisses is the only thing you can hear besides the muffled hum of the music playing downstairs.

Aemond pulls away then, the look is his eye ravenous as he lowers himself between your legs once more. For a minute you think he may grab his glass and do the party trick all over again, the kiss just a spur-of-the-moment thing. Instead, he pushes your skirt up, fingers digging into the flesh of your inner thighs. You realize a moment too late what he’s doing.

Riiiip!

“Aemond!” you squeak, as he rips the seam of your tights, “These were a new pair!”

“I can buy you another,” he says, pressing a kiss against the smooth newly exposed flesh, “Or perhaps CeCe can. You’re her favorite plaything, aren’t you?”

Your cheeks burn at the statement, your mouth pressing together in a tight line. Aemond grins, nimble fingers undoing the zipper of your skirt and wiggling it down your legs along with your ruined tights.

“Oh she doesn’t like that,” he says, clicking his tongue, “But it’s true, isn’t it?” His hands are roaming higher now, grazing against your clothed center. You’re certain he feels the evidence of your arousal but he stays quiet about it. “That’s what you are, aren’t you? A pretty little plaything.”

“Fuck you,” you hiss, humiliation seeping into your veins, though it does little to quell the desire pooling in your belly.

“No shame in that,” he says, shaking his head, “I understand Cerelle, entirely.” His fingers tug your panties down your bare legs, exposing your wet center. Aemond’s eye locks on it, lips quirking upward. “I like pretty things as well.”

“So I’ve heard,” you quip as Aemond’s second-hand joins the first. He swirls a finger low against your entrance and you clench as he drags it upwards.

“Have you?” he muses, circling your clit with minimal pressure, “And what have you heard?”

“That you’re as insatiable as your brother,” you manage to choke out as his thumb continues to tease your clit, “You just hide it better.”

Aemond cocks his head to the side in silent agreement before pressing his face against you. A sharp cry leaves your lips as his tongue explores from your entrance up to your clit, the tip circling the sensitive button.

Eyes rolling back in your head, Aemond nuzzles his face against you, tongue slipping down and pressing into your clenching hole. He hums in approval as you make another desperate noise as his tongue curves upwards inside of you.

Seven hells, how is anyone’s tongue long enough to do what Aemond’s is doing? Your toes curl as his tongue hooks upwards against the front of your pelvic bone, thrusting against the sensitive patch of nerves that resides there.

“Oh gods—fuck—fuck!” you cry as he continues the repetitive movement of his tongue, waves of pleasure lapping up your spine, sending shivers through your whole body. “Hells Aemond…”

His nose presses against your slippery clit, rubbing against it in a way that stokes the pleasurable fire burning in your belly. His hands hold your thighs open and you throw your head back against the bed as the pressure inside you builds and builds and builds. Your back arches and your thighs tremble in his bruising grasp.

You lean up on your forearms to watch him, his violet eye intently watching your face, studying your reaction. You can tell he’s smug at the effect he’s having on you. He would often get that same look in his eye in class after he proved someone wrong or made a more intelligent point. How you must look to him now; all spread out before him, flushed and slack-jawed, dewy-eyed and pretty.

You’re a pretty toy to play with. Just want he wanted.

His tongue leaves your fluttering pussy and you whine at the loss of contact. He mumbles something that sounds an awful lot like needy before two fingers sink inside your warmth to replace what he took away.

Aemond’s tongue returns to its place around your clit as his fingers curve upwards replaying the motion from before. The stimulation now is much harsher, the pads of his fingers dragging effortlessly against your spongy walls, curling with brutal intention; relentlessly pressing against the swelling spot inside of you.

His warm, wet tongue against your clit only hastens the tightly winding ball of pleasure in your gut and you feel your walls swelling around his fingers as your release knocks the wind out of you.

You come with a strangled cry, hands gripping the bed sheets as your abdominal muscles contract to the point of pain, all your muscles going taut as warm waves of euphoria rush through you.

Aemond releases a choked chuckle of appreciation as he feels you tighten around his fingers. He fucks you through it, stretching out the wave of your orgasm until your legs are trembling and the overstimulation causes you to hiss at him.

“Stop, stop, please.”

“Alright…shhh,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your mound and gently pulling his fingers from your fluttering walls, “There you go, that’s a good girl. You did so well for me.”

You can’t help but warm at his praise, the ringing in your ears fading as your chest swells. Aemond is on you once more, lips pressed to yours the mingled taste of whiskey and you hot on his tongue.

“Are you going to let me fuck you?” he murmurs between sticky kisses, “Hmm?”

“Aemond…” you breathe into his mouth, hoping that is enough for him.

You can feel him smirk against your lips and know instantly it's not. He tuts disapprovingly, pushing you back against the mattress, his face dipping into the crook of your neck.

“What would Floris say?” he teases, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your neck. Your hands wind around his neck, fingers digging into his scalp. His braid is all but ruined. “I thought you said something earlier,” he continues, nipping and sucking at different spots on your neck, humming with pleasure when he locates a spot that has your back arching.

“I don’t—”

“Loyalty, I recall,” he purrs, his hand snaking down your side, gripping the meat of your thigh and hoisting it around his waist, “Something like that.”

“Aemond,” you whimper helplessly as he grinds against you, the feeling of his hard cock concealed by his trousers driving you close to madness, “Aemond please.”

“You’re going to have to say it,” he insists, kissing your cheek, “Come on, say it.”

“I want you to fuck me,” you tell him, “Please Aemond—gods.”

“They can’t hear you,” he taunts, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, “You’re all mine.”

You frantically nod, nose bumping against his as his lips curl into a greedy smile. He removes his shirt with one hand before he rolls off of you and onto his back, motioning to you with his hands.

“Go on then,” he says, “Take what you want.”

With shaky hands, you undo his belt above the sizable tent in his pants before dragging the zipper down and releasing his cock. He’s bigger than you expected, both in length and girth, the reddened tip already weeping in anticipation. You stroke his velvety shaft once before he grabs your wrist, pulling you toward him.

His hands pull your shirt from your body as you straddle him, his cock nudging at your folds. Aemond’s hands slide up your back, undoing your bra and freeing your breasts.

“You’re gorgeous,” he murmurs, hands cupping the sizable mounds, “Gods, you’re so lovely.”

Your face burns at his praise as you raise your hips before gripping him in your hand and guiding him inside of you; gently letting yourself slide down his length, inner walls fluttering around him at the new sensation. Shuddering on top of him you whine at the stretch. “Gods—”

“You can take it,” he murmurs, squeezing you softly in encouragement, “Come on baby, that’s it, just like that.”

Slowly you let him bottom out in your warmth, happily seated on his cock feeling incredibly full. You brace your hands on his chest as he pinches both of your nipples, your jaw slacking in response. Aemond lifts his hips slightly, gauging your reaction as your eyes screw shut.

“That feel good?” he asks, his voice a rough whisper.

“Yes,” you breathe, slowly starting to ride him, hips lifting and returning to his with a soft smack.

“There she goes,” he murmurs, hands dropping to your hips, squeezing, “Take what you need, gevie.”

A breathless moan escapes you as you ride him, his hands guiding you through the movements. The hum from the music downstairs matches the ringing in your ears.

Aemond drops his hand from your waist bringing it to the apex of your thighs. His lips part as he watches you rise and fall on his cock, his length coated with your arousal.

“That’s it,” he coos, his tone bordering on one of condensation, “Just like that—there’s a good girl.” His thumb brushes against your clit as he says it, a broken moan leaving your lips as pleasure ignites your veins.

His movements are soft, tantalizing, and brutally calculated as he circles the sensitive button; his other hand clings to your waist, hard enough to bruise. Surely they’ll be memories of his touch when you wake; dark purple petals blossoming on your soft flesh at first light. He guides your movements as they become sloppier the closer you get to your release.

It sends tingles up your spine, your chest and neck growing warmth as you edge closer to the precipice of pleasure.

No other man has made you finish before.

“Are you close?” Aemond murmurs, never stopping his attention to your clit, the subtle movement of his hips thrusting up into you, “I know you are—can feel you clenching around me.”

Your head falls back, mind foggy as you desperately grind against him, trying to ignore the burn in your hamstrings. Aemond’s hand leaves your hip crashing down against your ass with a loud smack. You yelp in surprise, head jerking forward, nails clawing into the hardened muscles of his chest. Aemond’s hand remains where he’d spanked you, fingers curling into the meat of your ass as he releases a breathless laugh; his eye flickers to where your nails dig against his pale flesh, leaving a trail of red behind as they scrape down his chest.

“Answer me,” he demands, and you quickly nod earning another stinging slap, “With your words gevie. Use those pretty lips.”

“Yes,” you practically gasp, “Yes, Aemond I’m close—”

“And you want to cum, don’t you?” he murmurs, lips curling into a smirk, “Do you want me to make you cum?”

“Yes, Aemond please—” the sentence dies with a moan as he plants both feet on the mattress, bucking his hips up against yours at an inhumane pace. Your eyes screw shut, mouth hanging open in ecstasy as all the muscles in your body tense followed by a sudden burst of euphoria pulsing through you.

Aemond hums in satisfaction as you ride your high, blood rushing in your ears as you shake on top of him, clenching around his thick length. He’s careful to pull his thumb away from your sensitive clit as your eyes flutter open, eyebrows scrunched together at the overstimulation. But his compassion is short-lived as he hooks his arm around your waist, flipping you onto your back and slotting his body on top of yours.

His cock is removed for merely a moment at the switch of positions before it’s stretching into your once more earning a sharp gasp. Aemond’s hand covers your mouth in an instant, his face buried in the crook of your neck once more.

“Shhh,” he coos, placing a kiss under your ear, “Hear that?” he asks, thrusting gently into your warmth causing your eyes to roll back in your head. “Listen.”

His hips continue their gentle roll against yours, slowly stoking the pleasurable fire that is reigniting in your belly. Limbs still tingling from your previous orgasm, you blink rapidly trying to focus on what he’s asking.

The music downstairs has died.

“Everyone’s going home,” he murmurs, through another kiss, “We’d best be quick. Would hate for lovely Cerelle to find her pet in such a position.”

Embarrassment burns your cheeks and he chuckles, keeping his hand over your mouth as he slings your leg over his shoulder, deepening the angle of his thrusts. The head of his cock bullies against your sweet spot almost lovingly as he drags his cock in and out.

“Keep quiet,” he murmurs, the sound of silence deafening with the lack of music, “Can you do that?” He’s rather cruel with his question, delivering a particularly harsh thrust as he asks, then clicking his tongue in disapproval at your muffled moan. “Thought not.”

So his hand remains as he plows into you, the sounds of your pleasure muffled but still desperate as you claw at his shoulders.

“That’s it,” he encourages, “Cum for me again, just like that.” His pelvis grazes against your clit, the friction only aiding in his efforts of making you reach your release once more. His violet eye scans your face before he dips to your collarbone, nipping the sensitive flesh with his teeth and you cum with a desperate cry against his hand.

“There you go,” he coos, the words breathy and broken his hips faltering as your walls clamp down around him, “Squeezing me so fucking tight—fuck.” He regains his pace with renewed enthusiasm as your walls continue to flutter around him. Aemond removes his hand from your mouth pressing it into the mattress beside your head.

Nerves raw from the continued stimulation a tear rolls down your cheek as he chases his own release. Aemond leans forward, hot tongue darting out to catch the salty stream as he hums in satisfaction.

“We’ll have more time next time,” he whispers the promise against your cheek, “I want to explore what other pretty noises you make.” His lips capture yours then, swallowing the whimper you release.

“I’m very curious,” he murmurs against your lips, slinging your other leg over his shoulder, pushing your knees back beside your ears. “And I’m very thorough.” A silent scream leaves you as he slams back into you, toes curling as you cum again, vision going white with the force of it.

Aemond’s hips meet yours a few more times and then you feel his cock pulsate inside of you before the warmth of his release fills you to the brim. You’ll need to make a trip to the pharmacy, but you’ll think about that later. He stays like that for a moment, buried to the hilt inside of you as you both try to regulate your breathing.

Aemond lowers your legs gently from around his shoulders and brushes some sweat-soaked hair from your forehead.

“Are you alright?” he asks, and you nod as he kisses you sweetly.

“Just fucked out,” you assure him, a pleasurable ache radiating down your thighs. Aemond hums, carefully pulling his softening cock from your warmth.

The emptiness takes your breath away as he stands. “Wait here,” he orders, walking towards Cerelle’s bathroom. He returns a moment later, washcloth in hand. You push yourself onto shaky forearms as he carefully cleans the mess between your thighs.

“Thank you,” you tell him, face burning from his attention.

“No need for thanks,” he insists, “It’s the bare minimum.”

“For you maybe.”

Aemond flicks a brow toward his hairline, his violet eye meeting yours. His expression is curious, but you sense he’s not going to push you to elaborate. You hold his gaze.

Not tonight.

“Are you staying here?” he asks, standing when he’s done, handing you pieces of your clothes.

“I think I have to,” you answer, putting your skirt back on and glancing at the clock, “The last bus is long gone.”

Aemond frowns, reaching for his phone.

“I’ll have my driver take you,” he says, unlocking his screen.

“You don’t have to—”

“It’s no trouble,” he insists, placing the phone against his ear, “Cole. Ten minutes. Thank you.” He hangs up quickly leaving no time to argue.

“Thanks,” you mutter awkwardly while finishing dressing. You walk to Cerelle’s large mirror and attempt to fix your sex hair. Your eyes widen in horror as you tilt your head to the side, leaning closer to get a better look.

“Aemond,” you hiss, fingers pressing against the three red marks sure to bruise, “I look like I’ve been mauled by a bear.”

Aemond walks up behind you dragging his fingers down the curve of your neck and over your collarbone. Goosebumps appear in their wake. Three more red marks lead a path down to the top of your right breast. Several sizable mouth-shaped love bites.

Aemond rests his chin on your shoulder, meeting your eyes in the mirror.

“Think of them as a gift,” he tells you, the curve of his lips pressed against the skin of your neck.

His hand curves around your waist, the other slinking up to turn your face towards him. He hums appreciatively, kissing your lips, then your cheek. Down your neck to your shoulder. You glance in the mirror once more, catching his eye.

There’s something new there. Almost possessive.

His grip on your waist tightens and he presses his teeth into the soft flesh of your shoulder.

Outside, snow begins to fall.

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evilcowgirl · 8 months

Text

jealous ellie headcanons

ft. sapphic longing

i get my inspo from sintuationships bc im real

୨♡୧

ellie doesn't like not being around you at social events, or with you out of her sight. it stresses her out so much that she can't even properly enjoy herself without you close to her. can barely pay attention if someone's speaking to her because shes busy trying to watch you in the crowd.

convinces herself that everyone wants you. you often have to assure her that your friends and other people you interact with casually aren't secretly pinning over you or waiting on the opportunity to make a move. she never believes you, always stuck on the idea that you're too good to not have a billion more options.

ALWAYS thinks someone is flirting with you, and get pouty about it. when she's feeling bold enough she'll say something direct.

"i mean you didn't see the way she was looking at you from my perspective, you guys were basically at 3rd base."

ellie knows that you're only her friend, that you don't owe her loyalty, but anytime you bring up time you've spent with someone else she goes all quiet and short with you, not because she's mad at you, but because she gets an unexplainable feeling in her stomach like she's gonna drop dead when she thinks of you enjoying the company of anyone else but her.

cannot go an hour without bringing you up to other people (barely exaggerating.) her mind wanders to you so often she hardly even notices it. at the sight of a trinket you'd like, or a color she knows you love. whenever she hears someone say something that reminds her of you, she's quick to to point that out. you stay on her mind always.

can't handle being away from you too long, she gets antsy and starts asking around about your whereabouts. especially when she's missing you, all hell breaks loose. when she finds out that you were only getting lunch or something simple like that she feels embarrassed at how desperate she was to find you. (she'll definitely do it again tmr.)

likes to see you sitting in her room, around all her stuff doing whatever. painting your nails, reading, listening to music ect. just getting to see you in her personal space makes her happy. knowing that you're safe and with her.

will start an argument if she doesn't know where you've been. arguing with ellie is always slightly maddening because shes so nonchalant when she's being ridiculous that it makes you question yourself.

she's so sweet and nervous when she apologizes though, going over what shes going to say over and over in her room and still messing up.

"i'm just—fuck this is stupid—i shouldn't have said what i said to you. . . about the thing earlier?" she'll look away like a scolded puppy waiting on you to say something. "i'm sorry."

if you accept her apology, you can visibly see the fear leave her body. the worst thing that could happen to her is losing you and anytime she thinks that might happen her whole world gets turned upside down until she knows you're okay with her.

she doesn't see you as her property, just something really special that she wants to keep safe and close.

likes to keep a hand on you when you're walking with her. on your waist, a hand around your wrist or tugging at your clothes when she needs you to follow. she doesn't care if people notice, she'd prefer them to see actually.

writes the little things she notices about you down like she's studying you or something. the way you look at her when you're listening intently, how you act when you're sleepy. things she knows no one else would take note of. she jots down her thoughts about you when they're overwhelming because it helps, talking about it isn't an option she doesn't want to share you with anyone.

"she's so pretty when she's doing her hair, like a fucking angel on earth. she's driving me INSANE. i feel like i'm going to mess this up somehow."

gets jealous when you're babying dogs in front of her and will admit it !

"you never pay that much attention to me." when you totally do.

huge complainer, she's so bold about it too ! if you're spending any extra time with someone she'll get all dramatic about it and ask when you guys' wedding is and if she can be the maid of honor because shes petty.

can and will make things a competition if that means she'll get the chance to show off to you. some guy your age is impressive at target practice? she'll make an effort to double what he did just to say she can.

"i guess I've just had more experience." meanwhile she knew exactly what she was doing.

getting praise from you is like her main goal, anytime you let her know you're proud of her she feels like the most capable person on earth. on the other side of that is her absolutely debilitating jealousy when it comes to hearing you brag on other people. ellie doesn't pride herself on being nice but she gets pretty mean when she feels like you're giving attention she should be getting to others. you mention how well jesse did on his patrol and all of the sudden she's going on about how she's killed more infected as a kid than jesse could even imagine seeing.

oppositely, shes so sweet to you when you're feeling down, always making sure you know no one's allowed to mess with you (other than her) and if someone had she'd set things straight.

when you're feeling bad, or you're sick she likes to watch you sleep because you look peaceful and its ideal for her to see her girl safe nd happy.

strokes your hands and face while you're asleep, careful not to wake you. she's so infatuated and isn't quite sure how to handle it yet but for now she's able to roll with just being your person.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie tlou2 #ellie fanfiction #ellie williams fanfic #ellie tlou fanfic #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams x female reader #tlou fic #ellie the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #ellie x you #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader

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cowboyfromh3ll · 6 months

Note

Could we get some sex hcs for Dutch, John, Charles, and Arthur (maybe even both sides of the honor spectrum) for how they are in bed and what kinks you think they'd have?

Kinks HC

(Dutch Van Der Linde, John Marston, Charles Smith, Arthur Morgan)

Warnings: smut, size kink, mommy kink, lactation kink, foot fetish, bdsm dynamics, daddy kink, sadomasochism, asphyxiation

Arthur Morgan

Size kink for sure

If you're especially smaller compared to him it drives him crazy

Would use his strength to his advantage and carry you while y'all fuck

Pins you down with his weight, holds you in place, carries you around, etc

Grips the head board...

Has probably broken a bed or two

High honor would mean he'd be a lot more considerate of your pleasure and what you want. Much gentler and passionate. Sex with high honor Arthur would feel a lot more like love making, but if you have requests for something a little rougher he'll indulge you in that. He'd be mindful of his size relative to you but it'd still be a huge turn on for him

Much like with high honor, low honor Arthur would also find a huge turn on in the size difference. Though he'd be a lot more selfish with pleasure. Not to say he wouldn't keep your enjoyment in mind, but he'd always get his nut in no matter what. One way or another. Also this man FUCKS, not necessarily makes love. Rough as hell and he finds enjoyment in your debauched flace and pleads. Will probably mock your moans for enjoyment.

John Marston

I said it before. Mommy kink. Let me elaborate.

Definitely a tits man, so he'd probably have a lactation kink too. Would beg to suck on your breasts when you're pregnant. Handles your chest like they're some treasure he needs to be careful with.

Aboslutely awestruck by the way your breasts increase in size throughout your pregnancy.

Gets antsy and hot and bothered whenever you lactate through your shirt.

Practically BEGS on his KNEES just to get a taste

As for the mommy kink, this is when he's submissive in bed

Probably likes it when you're rough on him when you're domming

I'm talking hair pulling, slapping, ordering him around

Calls you mommy the entire time and tries to get a nipple in his mouth whenever he can

Motherless behavior

Also feet, but that's a fetish. I can just see him frequently asking for foot jobs.

Charles Smith

I feel like he'd be pretty vanilla, but he'd still be flexible depending on what you like and what he's willing to do

One of the things he'd be more willing to do is asphyxiation. A gentle squeeze of your neck to putting you in a choke hold while he flexes

Is iffy about it but once he sees your red face and your eyes roll back he's all for it

Also praise! Any form of positive reinforcement in the bed room is a green flag for him.

Uses the most gentle and flowery words to take and make you feel comfortable

BRO JUST IMAGINE HIM SAYING "Good girl" IN HIS VOICE IM DECEASED

Also wouldn't mind letting you dom him once in a while. Would be down to be tied up. Thinks the trust aspect that comes with it is super attractive.

Dutch Van Der Linde

Roleplay 100%. Think it's fun to pretend to be other people. Supplies costumes, jewelry, props, anything to make it more realistic. Will even do location changes for it.

Wants to be called sir during sex, any other title or name and he'll view it as deserving of punishment

Brat taming, so be as bratty and bitchy as you want, he'll find a way to break you

Likes blindfolds, gags, bondage, leather

I can also see him pouring candle wax on you. Gets a rise out of inflicting these things on you

Likes to command you to do things such as laying down, spreading your legs, getting on yout knees, etc...

He sets the scene and everything, rose petals, candles inside his tent, slow music, he puts thought into EVERY detail

Now that I think about it maybe a daddy kink. For times when he's feeling dirtier and rougher he'll want you to call him daddy.

Thinks its so scandalous and it makes him feel so giddy

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #red dead redemption community #red dead redemption 2 x reader #writing #van der linde gang x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan smut #john marston #john marston x reader #john marston smut #charles smith #charles smith smut #charles smith x reader #dutch van der linde smut #dutch van der linde x reader #dutch van der linde

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aurasplanet · 9 days

Text

STUPID GRIMES carl grimes x fem!reader

warnings — both are 18+, e2l, reader has claustrophobia, reader is maggie and glenn’s adopted daughter, i literally can’t write e2l this sucks so bad i’m so sorry

your arms are crossed over your chest as you look out the window. you and carl had to go on a run, alone, without ripping each others throats out. seriously, daryl left you a note that read ‘don’t rip each others throats out’.

carl had his music blasting through the radio, fingers drumming against the steering wheel completely ignoring your presence. you hated it. he always acted so unbothered as if you didn’t get under his skin. he always acted like such an asshole, criticizing your aim and telling you his is better. “even though i lost an eye!”

always wearing that fucking hat and those fucking flannels and fucking jeans that made him look too good for a total dickhead. it’s like the petty preteen feud started getting fueled by sexual frustration and made you both mad at each other for being hot.

carl hands you the list, “follow it, nothing else. we need to get in and get out.” was he ever going to let the time you saw a cute top on, in your defense what looked like a dead walker, and almost got bit?

“i’m just a girl, grimes.” he rolls his eyes, turning his music up. “plus i can defend myself, you can’t silence me!” with a smirk he turns it all the way up.

you see what looks like a run down store in the distance, pointing at it. in return you get carl yelling, “i know what im doing!” you hop out of the car when he parks, looking over the list quickly.

“you take the walkers on that side, i’ll take this side.” you point from left to right, causing carl to scoff.

“and if i want the right side?”

you huff, “okay smartass, take right. where you don’t have someone in your blind spot to cover you.” carl simply rolls his eyes, and without another word goes to the left side of the store. just as you thought, a few walkers to carl’s right were headed right for him.

you run over and stab every one of them in the head before they could get close, abandoning your side of the store. with the walkers all around you growling in your ear, you didn’t notice the noise growing.

“do i seriously always have to save your ass?” carl looks back at you with a glare before his face widens with shock. he grabs your arm and makes a beeline for the back. he saw the back room when you both walked in, and he hoped there were no dead waiting for you both.

he opens the door and practically throws you in, barricading it behind you two with the metal cart against the wall. you hear a growl behind you and whip around, there’s a walker in a mop bucket reaching out to you. you jam your knife through it’s eye, turning around to look at carl breathless.

carl chuckles and leans against the wall, “who saved who’s life now?”

you grab the mop in the bucket and place it on the walker’s head, masking it’s gross face. “what the hell? i was handling it.”

carl gives you an incredulous look, “handling it? the herd of walkers coming up behind you?” as of right on cue you hear their desperate hands clawing at the door. you sigh and walk around the tiny custodian closet, looking around for something, anything to help you out of this mess.

carl’s never seen you so antsy, he pushes himself off the wall and walks to you. his hand comes up to your shoulder awkwardly, rubbing it a little. “we’ll be fine, we still have our bag, our radios.” you nod, hating this side of you coming out. especially around carl of all people.

you swat his hand away, “i don’t need your pity.”

carl scoffs and goes back to his spot against the wall. “this is why i don’t help you.” you glare at him, leaning down to put your hands on your knees and breathe slowly. focusing on everything but the small room with walls that seemed to close in on you.

“you’re just an asshole, that’s why i don’t want your help.” carl looks at you with a monotone expression. you’ve known him since you met at the farm. daryl found you looking for sophia, and ever since maggie and glenn adored you like you’re their own. but with carl, it’s like he grew out of his menace phase with everyone else but it stuck with you.

“and when i give you the treatment you deserve, you go back to being one.” he doesn’t say a word, he just watches you pace.

“did you never grow up?” you can’t help but word vomit, it’s the only thing keeping you from spiraling. getting all of your thoughts out. “i mean, you clearly did. you’re so nice to everyone. why are you so different with me?”

that’s when carl remembers it, your claustrophobia. he remembered that one time in the prison, getting caught with him, maggie, and lori. even that room made you feel weak and petrified. it’s one of the only instances you remember him treating you kindly.

he gets close to you again, face inches from yours. he went to speak but nothing came out. your glassy eyes look at him in a way they haven’t before. you feel so close, the attraction he’d formed towards you was becoming overwhelming and he began to step back.

you grab him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him close again. “don’t…” you look into his eye before hugging him tightly. “don’t. the fear goes away when it feels like it’s just us.” carl let’s out a ragged breath, bringing his arms up around your back. “we can pretend this didn’t happen later.”

“we don’t have to,” he whispers and you pull away, looking at him wide eyed.

“but we will. i’m not weak.”

carl shakes his head and grabs your hand, “this doesn’t make you weak. it makes you human, and that’s not common feature for people to still have nowadays.”

you scoff out a laugh, “when did you get all wise?” carl laughs back, his gaze is soft, foreign to you. you let a few moments go by, standing there hand in hand. it should be awkward, but for some reason it wasn’t.

you bite your lip before speaking up again, “answer my question.”

carl laughs confusedly, “i think i get it from my dad?” you give him a playful glare and slap his arm,

“not that, stupid.” you go silent again, scared to ruin the fact he’s finally acting normal around you. “why do you act so different with me?” it’s like the air got thicker, in the way it did before when you would bicker, but not with the negative undertones. just tension, a lot. tension you don’t want to name out of embarrassment.

carl licks his lips and glances at yours. “as ridiculous as it sounds…” his face gets closer, “i feel like i can be free with you. let the parts of me that had to be buried out.” his voice turns into a whisper against your lips. “i guess i don’t remember how to do that without acting like such a little shit.”

you both laugh but it doesn’t last long, his hand comes up to your waist causing your breath to hitch. “it got worse when you just,” carl sighs and closes his eye. “became too hard to resist. i was so mad that we were stuck in this frenemy limbo, i made it worse.”

“damn,” you sigh, causing carl to furrow his brow. “you’re very stupid grimes.”

“shut up,” he snaps, pressing his lips against yours. you hum in surprise, but bring your hands up to cup his face. your thumb runs soothingly over his scarred cheek causing him to pull away. “it’s gross, i’m sorry.”

“it’s pretty,” you mumble, pulling him in to kiss him again. he disconnects your lips and shakes his head.

“pretty?”

you roll your eyes, “carl, you’re pretty. your scar is pretty. you’re supposed to be shutting me up right now.” carl blinks and your lips are back on his. you’re more eager this time, impatient. you part your mouth urging him to deepen the kiss. you sigh into his mouth and wrap your arms around his neck.

his other hand comes to the other side of your waist, pressing you against the wall. your back thuds against it, eliciting a whimper out of you. “sorry…” he mumbled against your lips. he pulls back a little, eye hooded and gaze trained on your swollen lips. “i like the sounds you make, though.”

#carl grimes x reader #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes x you #carl grimes #carl grimes smut #twd x reader #twd fanfiction #twd oneshot #twd fluff #twd imagine #twd smut #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes oneshot #carl grimes imagine #carl grimes x fem!reader

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bigfatbimbo · 2 months

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You ever think about how Lucifer is a yapper but it’s not just random stuff he knows exactly what he wants to say it’s something that completely interest him he just can’t find the words to say it without sounding dorky even though he ends up sounding even dorkier stumbling over his words adding in random irrelevant stuff just to end up off track and still messing up his words but then he just looks over to see you looking at him listening completely and suddenly the words aren’t so hard to find…

I DUNNO MAN IDEAS IDEAS IDEAS

AWWWWWWW WHATTT THIS IS SO CUTE IM DEAD 😭😭

No because you’re right he does know what he wants to say he just has no idea how to word it or stay on track. Like even though he’s very sure of whatever point or topic he’s trying to get out, he keeps getting sidetracked, interrupting himself mid-sentence, or just stammering.

And like he stops talking momentarily and looks at you, expecting you too be looking bored and antsy to get out but like—

You’re looking right at him, totally adoringly, taking in everything about him and hanging on his every word.

Then he would blush and awkwardly laugh, turning away from you and covering his hand with his mouth. You look at him and just say, “Go on,” and he’d nod eagerly before picking up where he left off.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #inbox open #hazbin hotel fluff

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darlingmbappe · 1 year

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Begging | Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader

—Click here for part one!—

Summary: You master plan worked and Kylian needs you now, you need him just as bad. Ditching work is so worth it.

Warnings: SMUT! SMUT! MINORS, GO AWAY. Slight begging, fingering, oral (male + female), pinning, rough but lovey-dovey sex, p in v, cussing, pet names, google translated French, English is not my first language! Let me know if I missed any.

The drive home was an antsy one. You kept shifting in your seat with excitement, your mind flooded by filthy thoughts. You got off of work early and it’s so you can go fuck your boyfriend, the sexy Kylian Mbappé? The stars must have aligned for you today, or maybe the gods have taken pity upon seeing how desperate and horny you had become on the inside.

Your apartment was on the way to Kylians and you knew you had to show up in the infamously photographed lingerie. You knew he wouldn’t say anything if you didn’t, but if you did — god. You needed him so bad. Kylian had obviously been stalking your location because the second you parked your car he sent you a text.

Kyks <3: what are you at home for??

Kyks <3: im not beyond begging bebe

Kyks <3: i’ll beg if you want me to….

You roll your eyes and giggle, changing quickly after sending him something back

You: trust me kyks. I know you’re a beggar ;)

A rush of hot memories came to you. Kylian whined and pleaded with small whimpers and grabby hands. The smallest “please” would always escape his lips unwillingly whenever you teased the poor man, followed by every pet name and groan that his body could forge. These memories made you feel even more needy for his touch, so you snatched your things quickly and sprinted out the door.

When you reached his front door, he swung it open. Kylians eyes were dark, lustful. The stare he gave you almost made your knees buckle, it was like he was a man on a mission, finally setting eyes on his target.

You approached slowly, your lip taken between your teeth. “Hey there, Mbappé.”

“Shut up and get the fuck in here.” He growled. His long frame leans against the door, eyes raking every inch of your body.

You took your time, but as soon as you got close enough, he grabbed your arm, dragged you inside, shut the door and slammed your body against it — all in one swift move. He kept you pinned, his forearms pressed against the wooden door, his face so close to yours. He stared into your needy eyes until he couldn’t hold himself back anymore, kissing you so forcefully that your knees actually did buckle this time, one of his hands immediately coming to rescue you, firmly squeezing your ass, holding up your body.

God, what you were feeling was absolutely primal. This was past a pleasure or a want… you needed him. He showed you he felt the same by the way his tongue rolled over yours, then kissed you from your cheek to your neck, breathing in deep, hips grinding so you could feel how hard he was already. His thigh was perfectly slotted between your legs, giving you just the right amount of pressure. You needed more before you passed out from the desire.

Sliding your hands down to his shoulders, you pushed him back to free your lips to tell him you have to have him right now. He looked at you lustfully, bit his lip hard and let you back on your feet. Kylians big hands grabbed your face longingly but with a much more tender touch. “Mon bébé,” he sighed, barley having to lean in to gently nibble on your lower lip, “I’m taking you upstairs.” He growled, reading your mind.

Kylian stepped back and grabbed your hand, beelining to the stairs. Though the pace was fast and urgent, the feeling of his fingers wrapped around yours was comforting… romantic. Something about how he looked back at you had your heart skipping — and not just because of the making out.

He opened the door for you, watching you with intent as you make your way to sit on the edge of the bed. He shuts the door with a slow hand before he begins to saunter over to you.

“Mon Dio…” my god, he mumbles under his breath, getting on the ground right as he nears you, looking up at you with his thick eyelashes, opening your legs for him to slot between them. His hands travel from your jean-clad ankles to your waist, hooking his fingers into the loops and tugging down. You help him out by unbuttoning and unzipping them, he immediately tugged again. Your jeans were so tight that it knocked you on your back from the effort, allowing you to lift your butt to so he’d slide them off and throw them aside.

Kylian hummed at the lace covering the small bit of your skin, but the skin he wanted to see oh so badly. You took off your tank top, tossing it to the side, propping yourself on your elbows when you felt Kylian kiss both your knees, slowly going up inch by inch, alternating between legs.

“Fuck, Kyks. Will you hurry up already?” You groan, biting your lip and watching him behind hooded eyes. He looks up at you, biting your inner thigh, so close to where you needed him to be. You hissed, he smiled.

“No, no.” He tusks. “Not tonight. I’m taking my time with you, bébé.” His lips kissed then licked the bite tenderly, fingers slowly tracing the pattern on the hem of your underwear, sending goosebumps to your entire body. “This new set is doing things to me.”

“Got it just for you.”

With an ego boost and a smirk, he attached his lips to your clothed heat, sending your head back with a small moan. Your hand wrapped around the back of his head, holding him in place as he licked stripes up and down.

“Je suis tellement chanceux…” I’m so lucky, he hummed against you, his fingers finally hooking under the fabric, pulling them down painfully slow. You sat up more and he began to gently knead your upper thighs, thumbs closing the distance to your wet core. You jut your hips toward him, making him chuckle. “What is it, bébé?” His eyes met yours. “You want me… here?” His thumb gently pressed on your bare clit, making you gasp and bite your lip to keep the biggest moan from coming out. “Answer me, bébé.” He demands.

You nod quickly, gulping. “Yeah.” Your voice was breathy. “Yes, please Ky. Right there.”

He smirked, locking eyes with you as his thumb rotated in a slow circle, dipping down to collect more of your juices, then back to circling. You moan out his name, pushing your hips towards his mouth. His breath was fanning you, his face so close to where you needed him the most.

Kylian got the hint, desperate to taste you himself. Without breaking eye contact, he latched himself to your clit, sucking gently, flicking it with his tongue.

“Oh, fuck.” You exclaimed, eyes rolling back as your arms gave way. You grabbed the back of his head again, making him give you quick kitten licks. “God, Kylian, you—oh!” He pressed his tongue flat onto you with more pressure, shaking his head back and forth, lapping up and down.

He moans against you, sending sweet vibrations through your body. “We are never waiting this long again.” He replaces his mouth with two fingers, teasing your entrence. “I’ve missed hearing you beg.” You propped up again, jutting forward again as a way to get him to do something with his lingering fingers.

“Don’t tease, baby, come on.”

“You started it.” He grinned, using his pointer finger to barley poke into you, then taking it back out. “Do you want it or not, amour?”

You huffed and let out a whine. “Fine, Kylian. Please…” He quirked an eyebrow, retreating his finger. “No! Okay, okay. Seriously, I’m begging you. Please. Do whatever you want to me. Please.”

His lip quirks and places a kiss and a lick on your clit again, then inserts his two fingers inside. You moan his name loudly, fisting the sheets next to you. “Feel good, baby?” He kisses you there again, then crawls up to be face to face with you, kissing your heaving mouth.

“So good, Kylian.” He curls his fingers up, looking into your eyes as they roll back in pleasure. “So fucking good.”

“Yeah?” He latches on your neck and you give him more space to kiss you. You feel him start start sucking on your sweet spot, just behind your ear, his fingers continue to graze your g-spot. You lift your hand and palm him through his grey shorts, making him bite your neck gently. “Putain, ma chérie. Tu vas me tuer.” Goddamn, sweetheart. You’ll kill me, he moaned, using his thumb to rub your bundle of nerves. He muffled your noises with his lips on yours, you tasted yourself on his mouth.

You felt the warmth pool in your stomach, knowing you were close. “Ky, I’m gonna… ah, Jesus Christ.” He circled his thumb quicker, going back to bruising up your neck on the other side. He quickened his pace and you felt your legs start to shake. “Oh, I’m so… close…”

“Let me feel you cum, bébé. Cum on my fingers.” He nudged your nose with his to get you to look him in the eye. You felt the words ‘I love you’ get lodged in your throat as his fingers kept abusing your pussy, sending you over the edge with a borderline scream of a moan. The orgasm felt like it had been building for weeks. Behind the ringing in your ears you heard his low ‘that’s it’s and ‘just like that, baby’s.

He kept quirking his fingers until you had to push his hand away. Immediately, you sat up on your shaking legs, taking advantage of his awestruck demeanor and flipping him over as you straddled his lap, now kissing his neck, grinding your naked core on the tent that’s formed in his shorts. You pull away and rip his shirt off, meeting his mouth again as you ran your hands all over his chest.

Kylian couldn’t take it anymore, flipping you back over again — clearly wanting to be in charge — standing up as your head landed on his silk pillows. You watched as he shook his shorts off, leaving him in his briefs. You rolled onto your stomach, reaching your hands out to him. Grabbing the hem, you rolled them down, watching as more and more of his length was revealed until eventually, it sprung free. Big, and large, and thick, all for you. Sitting up, you grabbed the base, earning a needy noise from the man in front of you.

“You gonna beg for me, baby?” You stared up through your lashes, tracing the base gently with your finger, watching it twitch and bead with precum.

“Allez…” Come on, he whined, biting his lip. “Please, bébé.” He runs his fingers through your hair. “Please, I need your mouth so bad. So bad.” His body unwillingly pushing toward you.

You let your hand grab him fully, keeping your eyes on his and you licked the drop on his tip, tasting him, slowly putting more of his thick cock in your mouth. His stomach moved with his shallow breaths as you swirled your tongue, hollowing your cheeks as you took him in deeper.

“Mhm…” you hummed. Kylian groaned, fisting your hair in his hands and pacing your movements.

“Fuuuck.” You reached one hand back, unclasping your bra for him. Kylian wasted no time pulling both straps down and discarding of it, using the hand that wasn’t tangled in your hair to squeeze your bare breasts. “Parfaite…” Perfect.

The back of your throat closed up when you had him about halfway down and caused you to gag (caused Kylian to moan), your hands taking care of the parts your mouth couldn’t reach. You hollow your cheeks, tracing the vein with your tongue.

“Fuck.” He repeated, pulling you off of him and pushing you back on the bed. He crawled on the mattress, kissing up from your navel. His hands tweaked your hardened nipples, twisting and pulling with just the right amount of pressure. He replaced his right hand with his mouth while you were a moaning mess under him.

When he pulled back with a loud pop, he smiled down at you and lifted your legs so they’d wrap around his waist. Grabbing his cock, he moved it on your wet core, and you watched with your mouth gaping, feeling his tip tease you painfully well. “Please, I need you inside.” You begged without being asked, and he did as you told him to, prodding you open with his thick mushroom head. “Oh, Kylian.” The stretch was euphoric, the familiar feeling brought you the comfort you’d been craving.

He intertwined your hand with his as he rested on his forearms, kissing your cheek, you felt his breath in your ear. “Always so tight for me, amour.” He slowly let you adjust, moving slowly about halfway in.

After a few seconds, your legs tighten around him, asking him to go deeper, to go faster. It was perfect that he knew exactly how you wanted to be pleased. He listed to your physical hints like a well trained puppy, so eager to please.

The noises you made when he picked up the pace were straight out of a porno. He heard every sound from the comfort of being buried in your neck, your mouth grazing the shell of his ear was sending goosebumps down his arms. He nipped at your collar bone, sporadically going back to feel your tits, a moaning mess himself as he found the right rhythm.

You felt him inside your stomach, poking and poking and poking… it was blinding. Somehow your accidental dry spell made you feel everything more. The vein running down the side, the the slight upward curve, it was all elevated for your maximum pleasure.

He continued holding your hand, fingers stretching and squeezing, eventually pinning it by your shoulder. He pecked your lips over and over again, some of the kisses lasting longer than others. On the last one, he dipped his tongue in, his pace faltered a smidge. “I’m so close. Fuck, I’m so close.” He muttered, breathy and dripping with affection as he looked into your eyes, squeezing your hand inside of his.

“Me too.” You stared back, focusing on his pelvic bone driving continuously on your sensitive nub. “Don’t stop — shit, Kylian.” You moaned his name, digging into his back with one hand while your other clasped his knuckles.

Kylian cussed against your neck, kissing the same spot, giving you just one bite before pulling back. His eyebrows furrowed while he looked at every detail of your face. “I’m gonna cum, bébé. Ah, dieu…”

“I’m right there,” you wrapped a hand around his neck, breathing into his mouth, indulging in the feeling of his fingers pushing you toward the edge.

His eyes screwed shut, strides hesitating, lips messily falling onto yours as he moaned out, cursing out your name. His fingers crushed your hand, but you honestly didn’t notice. Upon feeling his release, yours were right behind him.

“Oh, god!” You squealed, quivering, pulling his face deeper into your neck, your hand ripping away from his to hug him closer. He slid his now free hand under your arched back to do the same. Your bodies couldn’t be closer if you tried, but it felt like you couldn’t hold each other tight enough. The crushing sensation from Kylian only felt comforting, it felt right.

He continued to groan into your shoulder as he came down, his thrusts slowing until they just stopped.

Both of you were panting in sync, now just embracing each other as if it might not happen again, catching your breaths together.

He kissed your shoulder. “Damn.” He grumbled, looking up at you, brushing away a strand of hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear. His forefinger lingered on your jaw, he lifted it and tapped your lips, breaking out the biggest smile. “Damn…”

You both laughed together at how exaggerated his tone was, he traced your lip with his thumb, humming. You leaned up and kissed him sweetly, holding his face before he pulled away, hissing at the feeling of not being inside of you anymore. You continued to face the ceiling while Kylian laid on his side, staring at your profile — he swore he knew every detail by memory. Every birthmark, every curve, where your eyes wrinkle when you smile, how your eyebrows react to any situation. Sometimes, he feels as if he’s out of ways to show you the affection he hold for you, and just holds your hand instead. There isn’t enough words in any language to tell you how he feels.

“How was work?” You offered once your heaves settled. Kylian just shrugged, a tiny grin etched on his features. “Me too.”

You traced your thumb on the back of his hand, lifting it to your lips to kiss it. You continued to chat, pillow-talk eventually just turning into conversations about paying the gas bill, pondering what you should snack on later while you binge watch some random crime series on Netflix. He suggested The Devil Next Door and got pouty when you told him you’d watched it last week without him.

You’ll never get tired of these comfortable moments with Kylian. Sure, he’s busy, sometimes forgetful when he has a lot going on — but, part of loving him is accepting where he falls short. It’s hard work, but looking into the eyes of the man you love and seeing that love reciprocated is the most freeing, undeniably addictive feeling. How lucky are you to get to spend your life with this human, the gods definitely are on your side.

— A/N: Thanks for all the love on my first Mbappé fic! I really wasn’t expecting to get so much positive feedback. My English has improved so much in the past couple of years and I’m lowkey so proud of myself :,) —

— Requests are open for Mbappé! —

Taglist: @kymb-10 <3

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bcolfanfic · 1 month

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Ahh id love to hear some hcs about the time when theyre trying to get bucky help/make him realise he needs to try and get help (even if that too turns to be difficult when they hit a wall at the VAs office)

poor sweet bub </3

in my head- it takes a minute after they get home for things to really get as bad as they do. when he first goes back to wyoming with gale and they get their marriage license the minute they're back (they say they'll have an Actual Wedding later, they just want it on paper asap), even though his mind is racing, he's kinda in lalaland just happy to be out of the war. and with gale and starting their life together.

then when the "newness" does start to wear off, he's antsy to really tell gale that he's struggling because he's scared of popping his bubble and "ruining everything". '

so he doesn't say anything- and just kinda starts spiraling into depression. sleeping more, crying in the shower, feeling really Out Of It when he is awake etc etc.

gale notices something is off right away, but bucky wont talk to him so it doesn't really get very far- until one of the nights bucky gets out of bed in the middle of the night and gale finds him just sitting in the living room crying into his hands </3

sits with him and bucky just kinda blubbers about everything and about how out of whack he's felt and how guiltily he feels over it. this is elaborated on more in the fic im working on- but to begin with gale encourages bucky to talk to the va, and it's him doing that advocating for himself at first, or at least trying to. there's a little movement, he gets an initial appointment and talks to someone but then in the attempting to have consistent, ongoing assistance is when things start to go sideways,

and after one call with them where he gets especially frustrated and really freaks out gale decides to take over trying to handle the va for him.

he has "episodes" kinda similar to the whole baseball thing- and mostly at night. in a way gale almost trains himself to sense when he's awake and not in bed anymore, and it really freaks him out the few times bucky ends up going outside at night. he only ever goes out into their backyard, and gale always manages to get him inside and back to bed safely, even if it takes a bit.

but a part of his increasing frustration with trying to get him help is that he's terrified that one night he isn't just going to be in the yard, or he's not going to wake up/realize he's gone and bucky's going to get hurt. and he knows he wouldn't forgive himself if anything did happen to him.

bucky talks to curt quite a bit when all of this is going on, in that he still feels like he's burdening gale with certain things and curt is "different". especially when a lot of his shit comes from blaming himself for curt getting hurt/his EOD unit not finding the explosive that blew his leg off, in a way it helps to talk to him as much as he can because it drills into his head that curt is alive and doesn't hate him for what happened.

#buck x bucky #young vets au #buckbucky #clegan

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rv3rblog · 8 months

Text

kyle “gaz” garrick headcannons

headcannons w gaz as ur bf bc hes so bf (mine)

warnings: some suggestive content (maybe some small smut), war themes, military inaccuracies, prob ooc too

mdni !!

kyle “gaz” garrick x male!reader

part i part ii

prettiest boy ever i wanna kiss him

first let’s lay the scene, how you two meet

if you’re a civilian you guys probably met at a bar near the base after one of his missions

you’re alone, a hard day at work and you wanted to have a drink or two before walking back home (you live on the same block as the bar)

the bar is small, quiet and not well known. technically only locals in the area go to it and you’re a regular

always showing up after work having a drink and then leaving

he notices you first when he walks in, a pretty boy sitting at the bar nursing a drink in your hands

you notice him as he’s seated with the task force, all four of them seemingly tired with their muscles aching

i feel like he’s the type to rub his neck to get rid of the tension and kinks so you probably notice that

he can feel your eyes on him, having been trained to be aware of his surroundings

you take him in, your eyes raking his body and his face, trying to memorize him

you turn back to your drink, your cheeks feeling warm at the fact that he’s absolutely gorgeous and you kinda want to talk to him

he also wants to talk to you, i feel like he’s shy about it though, being around his friends and colleagues and most of all he’s absolutely infatuated with how you look

neither of you make a move that night, too shy and too nervous

you show up the next day, talking with the bartender and chuckling at a joke they said

you don’t notice when gaz walks in, you’re seated at one of the few tables on your laptop doing some work

you don’t feel his gaze on you right away, it takes a couple minutes

when you look up, you feel your breath stuck in your throat because last time you saw him the lights were dimmed heavily and he was wearing a jacket

now? jesus christ you feel like someone ran you over

he’s standing at the bar looking at you, a tshirt on that hugs his arms and some seemingly tight jeans

he’s looking at you and you’re looking at him

he walks over to you after a couple minutes and the two of you get to talking even some flirting from both of you

now im not entirely sure if i hc gaz as like shy yk? but lets say he’s slightly shy

so when he does flirt with you? you can tell he’s shy. he may be looking at you, but theres a small smile on his face as he does so (yk when u blush? idk if its just me but i tend to have a small smile as i blush)

“you’re really…”

“i’m really…?”

“breathtaking. you’re breathtaking.”

needless to say you can feel your cheeks warming up after that.

and when he asks you out on a date?? woooo

you’re smiling, your work forgotten as you talk with him

he’s also smiling, i kinda imagine he has his hands on the table as he leans on it to get a closer look at you

now let’s say you guys are officially official bfs

you know he’s military, that’s all he really offers you and you don’t pry

you still show up at the bar after work to drink and then go home, that didn’t change

what did change was gaz showing up every once in a while in between deployments (when he could get away without anyone really asking questions, it was always a surprise to you)

he compliments you all the time

he’s also slightly touchy with pda

he loves holding your hand or even just caressing your hand with his thumb

he likes when you touch your knee with his when you’re sitting with him

he also likes seeing your smile when you spot him walking into the bar

he’s cheesy

and i mean like cheesy pick up lines (they’re terrible but they make you laugh, that’s why he says them)

if you aren’t big on pda? he’s cool with it.

and i mean he’s fine. it doesn’t bother him

he respects your boundaries

they’re would be moments where he’s antsy after a mission, happy to see your safe but needing touch

and you can tell

those are some of the moments you let him do what he wants when it comes to pda knowing it calms him down

it had been maybe a couple weeks since you last saw kyle. you were in your usual table and your laptop was out as you did some work. like usual you didn’t notice when someone new walked into the bar.

from your peripheral vision, you saw someone sit down in front of you. their arms were crossed and their leg bouncing. you look up and smile when you spot kyle in front of you.

he’s in some causal clothes, not wearing any military equipment. he has a cap on though, that was always a consistent sometimes.

you reach your hand over, showing him that you’re okay with him touching you right now.

that’s all he needs.

he reaches over and holds your hand, his grip tighter than usual but that’s okay.

you continue you work with one hand, occasionally caressing his hand with your thumb. you hear his chair scoot over to be next to you. you look over to see him sitting next to you, your arm no longer on the table but on his lap.

you go back to your work. you don’t talk usually waiting for him to talk first when he comes back.

he then leans his head on your shoulder. you hear him sigh contently as he watches you work.

you keep moving your thumb, reminding him you’re there with him.

he holds your head so softly. like he just admires you. like legit heart eyes as he looks at you

he thinks you’re the prettiest boy out there

i feel like gaz is a soft kisser

he isn’t hard or pushing when kissing, he’s gentle with it trying to savor the moment

he definitely cradles your face in his hands as he kisses you ESPECIALLY after coming home from a mission

so soft (until it isnt)

if he comes home to you after a bad mission? his body still shaking from the adrenaline? oh this man will absolutely hold your face as he kisses you passionately

he’s definitely pushing you against a wall as well as he does this

his thigh between your legs as you whine into the kiss

yeah

he likes hearing your little whines

teases you abt it though, like he’s so cocky

“hm? my pretty boy likes it when i touch him?”

“oh you’re gorgeous, whining just because i kissed you?”

big on praise. always calling you pretty and good

biiiig on body worship. like big on it

he will have you laying down and his hands will move all over your body as he whispers praises into your mouth as you two kiss

“such a pretty boy. so good for me.”

“absolutely gorgeous, all mine yeah?”

slightly possessive? like he will leave marks on your neck and collarbones

calls you his. his boyfriend, his pretty boy, ect

when he introduced you to the group it’s maybe a year into dating

they’re like his family, he wants to be sure you guys will last before doing so

so, it’s around a year or abt to be a year

you’re in the bar, looking over some work a pen in your mouth as you think

they all walk in and here’s the thing — your table is small only big enough for two people

now imagine four six foot men trying to sit around it and not disturb your notes

you smile brightly at gaz as he sits next to you

to say you’re nervous is an understatement

the day before you were on the phone with a friend running around your apartment spewing your worries

“what if they don’t like me? yeah i know it sounds dumb but these guys are important to kyle- i need them to like me.”

they can all tell you mean a lot to gaz so they play nice

they ask questions and watch as you listen to them talk

ghost is the first one to notice you squeezing gaz’s hand as you speak to them — your hand on his lap

price is the one to notice how gaz is absolutely relaxed around you — slightly letting his guard down

soap is the one who notices you looking softly at gaz, your eyes so full of adoration and love

they leave the bar and you relax against gaz

“did they like me?”

“love-”

“they mean a lot to you kyle, i need to know if this went well.”

“it did.”

and like ?? it warmed his heart knowing you want to get along with them

he just loves you so much

like you’re his safe space after seeing all the horror around the world

he likes holding you as he sleeps, makes him feel like you’re protected

sometimes you can’t get out of his grip even if he’s dead asleep

while trying to fall asleep he whispers into your hair about how much he loves you, his hand tracing patterns on your stomach

you have your hand over his, caressing it with your thumb

he falls asleep after you unless he’s absolutely exhausted

it makes him feel better to know you’re safe in his arms

he loves telling his team about you after you guys meet

always going off about you

“actually my boyfriend said that-”

“he’s actually talking about getting a pet together.”

“i think he’d enjoy that joke, you should tell him next time we all hang out.”

he’s so in love with you it’s absolutely sickeningly

#i love him #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz x reader #gaz x male reader #kyle garrick x reader #x male reader #cod x reader #gaz mw2 #kyle garrick x y/n #gaz x y/n #kyle garrick x male reader #fanfiction

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