#gnawing my arm off as we speak !!!!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hurthermore · 2 months

Note

Hello! How are you doing?

May I ask for NSFW Alastor x virgin f!reader who is nervous about having sex for the first time? Maybe with some soft Alastor with lots of praise?

Thank you so much and have a great day!!

»»------► 𝚅𝚒𝚛𝚐𝚒𝚗 (18+)

Pairing: 𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚡 𝙵!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Warnings: 𝚂𝚖𝚞𝚝, 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚟𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎, 𝚠𝚒𝚏𝚎/𝚑𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚔, 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚔, 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝 𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛, 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎, 𝚊𝚖𝚋𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗, 𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚌𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙸'𝚖 𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚜𝚏 :𝙳

𝙸 𝚍𝚘 𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚜 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝙸 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚍𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚘𝚌 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎. 𝙱𝚄𝚃 𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚈𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝙰𝙲𝚃𝚂 𝙰 𝙱𝙸𝚃 𝙾𝙾𝙲 𝙰𝚃 𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴𝚂 𝚂𝙾 𝙱𝚄𝙲𝙺𝙻𝙴 𝚄𝙿 𝙱𝚄𝙲𝙺𝙾

A/N: 𝙸'𝚖 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜! 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙾𝙵 𝙲𝙾𝚄𝚁𝚂𝙴?! 𝚆𝚑𝚘 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎??

You were, in simple terms, nervous. Not so much due to the act of sex, but because it was your wedding night, and you, along with Alastor, were inexperienced in such intimate acts. It didn’t help how your insecurities on the subject only heightened your fears.

But the way he kissed you as you laid beneath him, seeping his tongue in between your lips, tasting every part of your mouth as his hands gripped and gnawed at the skin of your hips and the under cup of your breast had your head spinning.

Your face flushed as your newly wed husband pulled away from you, his eyes swirling with lust and admiration- love, in fact. His lips brushed against the skin of your cheek before he straightened his back, gazing at the sight of you beneath him. You could feel his hardened cock grind against your clothed core as he let out controlled huffs of air; his eyes glazing over your almost naked form as you only attired what was left after he had removed your wedding dress long ago.

It was so strange seeing him this way; being so used to him presenting himself as a composed and calculated gentleman, it was baffling how undone and eager he looked. But then again, he was always inclined to show the deeper parts of his soul to you like his soft, caring and protective nature. No one else had that privilege. And this was just a new part he was permitting you to appreciate.

“My darling wife,” His fingers fondled the strap of your brassiere as he spoke in a whispered tone that was lower than usual. His breath, hot and heavy, surging pleasant convulsions through your body. “I want to ravish you.” Allowing his hips to roll into yours, you moaned.

Placing your hands along the toned flesh of his stomach as he slipped the fabric off your shoulder, you bit your lip. You wanted this so much; you craved it. But you felt so anxious about the events that were to unfold. “I’m nervous, Alastor.” Your voice trembled, causing him to halt all movements instantly.

Fearing you had ruined the moment, you tried to backtrack, only to have Alastor caress your face, ceasing you from speaking. “We can stop, if that is what you wish, darling.” He gave you an out, a very gracious one considering you could feel how much he wanted to continue.

You shook your head before furrowing your eyebrows. Lifting your arms, you slowly placed your hands on his shoulders. It was a privilege you relished in, being able to approach and physically touch the man that was Alastor. You were his love, afterall; someone who attained the entirety of his heart.

He would give you everything he had to offer.

Staring into his eyes, your lips pursed. “I want you, more than anything. I’m just nervous.” Your fingers twitched against his shoulders as you confessed in a whisper.

You watched as he groaned from your words. Getting the green light to continue, he leaned in as he kissed you with a gentleness that was breathtaking. Sighing abstractedly, you deepened the kiss, moving your hands to cup your husband's face as you opened your lips ever so slightly, permitting Alastor to creep his tongue into your mouth once again.

The way his tongue lavished the innards of your mouth had you grinding your slicked core against his. He could feel it; the lubrication of your cunt soaking his pants, and the touch of his hand squeezing the fat of your hip only made your arousal peak. You felt consumed by him; by Alastor. Your husband.

As your tongues intertwined, you jumped ever so slightly as his fingers pressed against your opening. You hadn’t even felt him snake his hand underneath your lingerie. Letting out soft moans as Alastor began to pet your clit; kneading it in circles, his heavy kisses became messier.

It was a sensation you weren’t expecting, but felt so good. You could feel your clit throbbing in unison as he massaged your sex. And as soon as his fingers entered inside of you, you began to moan heavily against Alastors mouth. How did it feel so electrifying? He hadn’t even started; hadn’t even pulled out his own erection yet.

Your heart felt as if it were beating out of your chest as your husband consumed you; giving you a pleasure you had never experienced. His long fingers reached places you couldn’t believe could be reached. And as he repeatedly plunged his fingers in and out of you, splattering your slick along your pelvis, his thumb petted your clit in a mind numbing fashion, causing your thighs to shake. A sensation of pleasure began to electrify every nerve within your system. “Al-” You gasped in between the heated kiss. “I feel-” you moaned louder as he began you fuck his fingers into you harder and harder. “-Weird.”

“Just let yourself go, darling.” He whispered into your ear, his breath reverberating within the canal of your ear. “My perfect little wife, cum on my fingers.” His lips kissed the skin of your neck as you felt the pressure of something explode within the covers of your clit. A build up of pleasure coursing through you as Alastor kept his hard pace until you felt every part of your sex snap. Grabbing onto him; you clenched around him tightly. Screaming in pleasure as your husband rode you through your high, not relenting in his pace, making it feel as though the sensation would never end. Until it did.

Your moans of pleasure became silenced into breathy groans as your high ended. Alastor removed his hand from your cunt, only to lick the natural lubricant that your sex produced off of his fingers; drinking the essence your body offered. It made you wetter than the sensations of cumming made you; watching him digest a part of you off his talented fingers. “My pretty little wife, you taste better than anything that can be consumed.”

Oh, my. You couldn’t deal with that kind of talk; it was making you dizzy.

After cleaning his fingers, he placed his fingertips against your lips, urging you to suck them. Parting your lips, you let your tongue swirl over his fingers; you could taste an essence of yourself along with your husband’s spit. Alastor couldn’t seem to stop grinding his hard sex into your cunt that was covered with the now overly damp lingerie as he watched you greedily suck his fingers.

Suddenly, Alastor pulled his fingers from your mouth, only to rush his hands onto the rest of the clothing that covered you from him; ripping the majority into bits in the process. His lips crashed into yours; near enough devouring you like a desperate man that was parched for water. Reciprocating the kiss with as much force, you flung your arms around him. Feeling him taking his cock out, resting the thick and veiny phallic organ heavily on your cunt, you couldn’t prevent the sharp gasp that left your larynx as he rubbed his cock against the folds of your sex.

You weren’t expecting him to be hiding such a big cock behind that thinned waistline, but Alastor never failed to surprise you. Pulling away slightly, you shuddered against your lover. “Will you be gentle, Alastor?” You whispered.

Looking into your eyes, you could only see pure love and devotion in your husband's lustful gaze. You felt safe. “My sweet wife, I will always be gentle with you. I could never hurt you.” He whispered against your lips. “Not unless you begged me to.” He bit your bottom lip; but not hard enough to pierce before moving to kiss the corner of your lip.

“Tell me if you need me to stop, darling.” Alastor mumbled against your skin. You nodded before the tip of his cock began penetrating your walls. Gripping your nails into the skin of his shoulders, grounding yourself as he continued to push himself further and further within your gummed walls. It hurt- ever so slightly as he slowly pushed his way in, but the pleasure that derived from his heavy sex massaging your inner walls outweighed the pain it inflicted.

Feeling him bottom out, you moaned. “You’re so perfect,” Alastor groaned, flushing his hips back slowly before bottoming out again. “My perfect wife. My wife. All mine.” Hearing him grunt those words of possession made your toes curl and your moans grow louder. His pace gradually increasing, the slapping of your skin as he fucked into you echoed against the walls along with your cries of your husband’s name.

“Tell your husband how much you want him.” Alastor groaned as his thrusts opted for fucking you harder than faster; making you jolt with every press. You mumbled, trying to coherent a sentence; trying to make your husband's wish come true. But he was fucking you dumb, fucking a pleasure that was tenfold what his fingers were able to achieve. “Come on, my beautiful little wife. Tell me.”

How was he able to talk so organised whilst he panted, whilst the sweat from his forehead began to drip onto you as he fucked you? You were almost dizzy from his thrusts; almost comatose. “I want you-” You let out a wanton moan. “I want-” Another moan. “My husband-” You cried out as his cock seemed to drive into you even further.

His teeth bared, and you swore you could see him fucking blushing. His groans croaked out of his throat; his Adam's apple moving along with his song of sex. “Fuck.” He grunted as his pace became faster, causing that electrifying sensation you experienced earlier to build up again.

He became relentless, pushing his whole body against you as his arms wrapped around your back, lifting you up slightly as he rutted himself further and further inside you. All you could hear was him mumbling words of possession into your ear. “My wife, mine.” On repeat. It made you convulse, forcing your cunt to spasm from another peak. Screaming his name, Alastor pushed himself so far you could feel his tip press against your cervix before he stilled. His breaths uneven as he groaned in your ear, you could feel his ejaculation as his cum splattered the walls of your sex.

You relaxed as he refused to leave the warmth of your cunt, your vision blurred as all you could see was your loving husband.

“You’re perfect, my darling wife.”

»»------► 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

#alastor smut #alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #alastor x you #reader insert #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #smut

825 notes · View notes

missmeinyourbones · 9 months

Note

"we were supposed to be just friends." and gojo please?

WE WERE SUPPOSED TO BE JUST FRIENDS (s. gojo)

a/n: slightly suggestive, will they won't they (they will), mentions of alcohol, satoru can't not be annoying for like three seconds

L’s MIDNIGHTS EVENT!

Everything feels hot. And it shouldn't.

Because it's the end of autumn and your dress flows down past your knees and the wine in your glass was supposed to warm you up but now Satoru is everywhere and everything feels hot.

He has you pinned against the wall, and how you got from the front door to the hallway, you don't remember, but his lips feel like fire as they dance along your neck and down to your exposed collarbone.

Even breathless and tingling, you know this is wrong.

You knew from the moment Satoru asked you out for a few drinks—as friends, he promised. The second he pulled your chair out for you at the bar, the moment you took too long to pick out a dress, you knew this was how the night would end.

Because while you and Satoru are supposed to be friends, that's never been quite the case.

With eyes closed and a heaving chest, you manage to pant out a pathetic, "This shouldn't be happening—"

"Y'know, I'm not judging you or anything," Satoru chuckles against your sticky skin, his lips moving faster than the speed of light as they crawl up your neck and below your ear, "but if that's your idea of dirty talk, we might need to teach you a thing or two."

When he gently paws at your earlobe, you disguise the wanton whimper as an aggravated sigh, attempting to paw at his broad shoulders and remind him.

"This is a bad idea, we both agreed that it's a bad idea."

"Impossible," he gently smirks against your jaw before sinking his canines into the bone with a smug exhale. "It's half my idea, and I've never had a bad idea in my entire life."

Wrong, you immediately note.

You can think of a minimum of seventeen bad ideas Satoru has had, and that's just off of the top of your head. And of those seventeen, at least ten of them ended up like this—with the two of you gnawing at one another like animals.

Still embarrassingly breathless, you try to regain the upper hand, "So you're just talking to hear yourself speak?"

"Well, I can think of a few sweeter things to say," he smoothly mumbles against your jaw, relishing in the way his teeth gently scrape the skin lovingly.

His (huge) palms find your thighs with ease, and just as he's about to lift you in his arms and inevitably fuck you raw against your shitty apartment wall, a miracle happens.

With every ounce of strength you have, you're able to push him far enough away from you to actually look at him. Both of you panting and warm to the touch, you're able to look into his eyes with a telling frown.

"Satoru, we are supposed to be just friends."

And though your tone is stern, his reply is light and airy as he leans back in, insistent.

"We are friends."

When his tongue prods at your swollen lower lip once more, you pull him back by his hair. Not missing how he whines at the tugging, you raise your eyebrows, unamused.

"You kiss all your friends like this?"

"Only the ones as pretty as you," he coos immediately, leaning back into your mouth. But your grip on his hair prevents him from reaching what he wants, and when he notices the stern look in your eye, he softens.

"No," comes softly from his chest as he pulls away to properly look back at you. "No, I don't."

You exhale deeply, catching your breath and attempting to firmly plant your feet on the floor. Satoru's listening to you, or at least he's doing a good job at pretending to, and your gaze can’t help but fall to his swollen and spit-shined lips.

"We agreed to take things slow, to be friends for a while and not rush into things like we—"

Conveniently, his eyes do the same and flicker down to your own distracting pout.

The words meekly crawl out from his throat when he practically whimpers, "But you're wearing that lipstick you know I like."

"I shouldn't know you like it," you coldly remind him, "because we were supposed to be friends."

Satoru moves his hands from your thighs to your hips which, believe it or not, is a conservative improvement for him. Though his hands made a safe choice, his eyes falter back down to your neck when he presses a feathery kiss to your pulse point.

"Baby," he coos and you despise that you feel yourself clench around nothing. From a sixth sense or eye, Satoru somehow knows, because he smirks against your skin and brings his attention right before your lips.

"From the moment we met, we both knew we were never gonna be just friends."

He doesn't give you the privilege of a kiss, but lingers just above your lips as if his infinity is still on. You know enough to know it's off, it always is around you, but with the way he's so close and denying you his actual touch, you don’t quite know the difference.

When you don't answer, he prompts you tenderly. "Right?"

Stubbornly, you turn your head to look away from his stupid face, but all that does is further expose your neck to him.

Practically singing with mockery, Satoru's tongue dances along your jaw when he grins.

"Your silence is more telling than you think."

You gently shove him off of you, rolling your eyes in frustration at his cocky (yet correct) statement. He jokingly stumbles back at your shove, hand over his heart as he huffs out a whine.

"I can't stand you," you grumble.

With a shit-eating grin, Satoru sighs and lays back on your sofa, spreading his legs comfortably wide and patting his thick and barren thigh.

"Then come sit."

#L's MIDNIGHTS EVENT!#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo fic #gojo satoru fic #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut

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yoonivy · 22 days

Text

symptom of your touch.

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

genre. smut & angst. friends with benefits.

All through his life, Aemond got used to it; toiling for the things that Aegon is freely given. But you… You were the only exception. Aemond cannot bear to lose you to Aegon too.

warnings. rough sex, creampie, breeding kink, dirty talk & degradation, mirror sex. unrequited love.

author’s note. titled after the aly & aj song but also heavily inspired by a taylor swift song!

word count. 7k+

It is Aegon who invited you to come over to watch movies with his family that night.

But when you make the two second walk from your front door to his just next door, your best friend isn’t even there.

“Where is he?”

Daeron shrugs at your question, opening the door wider so you can step inside the Targaryen household. “Dunno. He left, like, half an hour ago, though.”

You heave a sigh, tapping the phone in your hand.

To Aegon — where are you????

You hear their mother, Alicent, calling you from the kitchen so you make your way there.

“Hey, sweetie,” she greets with a gentle smile when she sees you. “Have you ate, yet?”

You nod, slipping onto an island stool beside Helaena. “I ate dinner just before I came over.”

You caress your hand on Aegon’s younger sister’s arm as a form of hello and she smiles sweetly at you while her mother lifts up a tupperware for you to see. “Well there’s leftovers here if you get hungry later, okay?”

“Thanks, Alicent,” you chirp as Alicent stores the food inside the refrigerator.

After an exhausted huff that causes the tendrils of the loosened hair from her bun to fly, Alicent still manages to give you a grin. “No problem, my love,” then with a frown, she looks down at the smatchwatch on her wrist. “Do you know where Aegon is? I thought we’re having a movie night?”

You shake your head. “I texted him but he hasn’t answered yet.”

“That boy… I swear…”

“Let’s just start without him,” Daeron suggests, strolling into the room to grab a can of Coke from the fridge. Alicent grabs the drink from his grasp before he could open it.

“You’ve already had too much today,” is all Alicent says when the soon to be high school senior whines out ‘mooom!’ .

“We can watch a movie we know he won’t like first so he doesn’t get mad when he comes back during the middle of it,” Helaena speaks up just as your phone vibrates with a new message.

From Aegon — i’ll be back soon 😘 — just start without me

You scowl, noting that he didn’t really answer your question. But whatever.

“Aegon said to start without him,” you tell his family.

Alicent sighs, head shaking. Then she turns to Helaena with a smile, “Bug, can you pick the movie?”

Helaena nods enthusiastically, hopping off the stool to do just that.

“Daeron, help me with the snacks,” Alicent instructs, already grabbing bowls from the cupboards. “And ____, sweetie, can you get Aemond? He’s in his room.”

The request has you gnawing on your bottom lip, reluctant, but you take a deep breath and say, “Yeah, sure.”

Alicent looks over her shoulder, kind eyes on you. “Thank you.”

Then her attention is back on Daeron, who once again tries to open a can of pop. “Daeron!”

You leave them to enter the small hallway, stopping at the bottom of the staircase. You stare up at the second floor, anxiousness twisting knots in your stomach.

You have not spoken to Aemond since the party at Quentyn Martell’s last weekend.

You still remember the crushing look of hurt on his handsome face when you told him what you needed to tell him, all too well.

Every step you take up the stairs reminds you how awful you’ve been to him all summer. It was completely unintentional, but you can’t deny how selfish you’ve been. Especially since you know that Aemond would be willing to do it over and over again if you only asked him to.

You rap on Aemond’s door with the back of your hand, hearing him call from inside, “Yes?”

“We’re, um, gonna start movie night now…” you trail off, speaking to the closed door. Your voice is so soft, like you don’t want to be heard by him. “If you wanna—”

The door suddenly swings open, and you meet Aemond’s wide open stare.

You cannot help but stare back. You still cannot believe this is your best friend’s younger brother. The gangly boy you grew up with.

Aemond has filled out more, still lean yet definitely defined in all the right places. He chopped off his gorgeously long hair into a cropped haircut for the first time in forever. Although you were initially sad about the haircut, the short hair grew on you. Especially when he styled it to part neatly to the side — he looks so handsome.

When you saw him for the first time in the beginning of the summer, you thought you were dreaming.

His first year away from home was good to him.

“Hey,” you breathe out, offering him a wavering smile.

He takes you in completely, violet eyes washing over you. Every second has you feeling smaller, nervous for his final reaction. Then finally — “Hey.”

An uncomfortable silence falls between the two of you. And you feel so uneasy, you had to turn away from his stare, cocking your head down the stairs. “Um, we should…”

Frowning, Aemond nods. “Right.”

He slips out his room to walk ahead of you, and for some reason your stupid, stupid guilty conscious makes a grab for his arm to stop him on his track.

“Wait, Aemond–” He stiffens under your touch. You press your lips together before asking, “Do you want to talk about what happened first?”

Aemond whips his head to look at you, and you notice the dark circles under his sullen eyes. He looks so sad and you hate yourself because you know you are the reason.

He shakes his head slowly, prying your hands off him with such gentle care. You’re not sure if he is trying not to hurt you or himself. “No. Let’s just have a good night tonight, alright?”

After a tentative nod, you follow him down the stairs and to the living room, lagging a few steps behind to give him space.

Unfortunately, since the two of you are the last to arrive, the only seat available is beside each other on the couch. But luckily, since Aegon isn’t there yet, there is a comfortable space between the two of you.

After the second movie is done, Alicent heads to bed first for work in the early morning. Being a widowed mother for eight years already, Alicent has gotten used to being the breadwinner for the family even if now her children are helping support her — with the three oldest already in university with decent paying jobs on the side. She can stop working if she wanted to — Viserys left a big inheritance — but you think she’s just lonely and needs something to occupy her time during the year when the home is empty except for her and Daeron.

Halfway through the third movie, Helaena says her goodnight with a yawn. She hugs you and Aemond, then kisses Daeron’s forehead (which he pretends to be grossed out by), before she heads upstairs to her room.

Before the fourth movie even starts, Daeron’s snores are resounding loud in the room, mouth wide open and asleep on the reclined leather chair. Aemond sits up to throw the blanket that Helaena had abandoned on his little brother and then settles right back down beside you — even though there is another couch now empty for him to sit on.

With Aemond by your side the entire night, you tried not to look at your phone out of respect for him and his feelings. But as it gets later and later, you can’t help but start looking between the television playing the fourth movie, your phone, and the door like clockwork.

You’re worried. It’s already past midnight and Aegon is still not home.

You’ve sneakily texted him a couple of times during the first two movies, but he hasn’t answered.

You open up SnapChat now, knowing that would probably give you an idea on where he might be.

Of course, the first story you see is of Aegon sticking his tongue down Jeyne Westerling’s throat just 10 minutes ago.

You close off the app with a disgusted grunt, finally deciding it’s time to go.

“I’m gonna head home,” you tell Aemond after an irritated huff.

“I– alright…”

When you stand up, Aemond does too. He follows you to the front door.

“You can stay the night,” Aemond says before you step into your shoes.

You stand up straight, still no shoes on, to give him a wan smile, “I have my perfectly good bed just next door, Aemond.”

Aemond nods slow, glaring at the ground. Then his gaze flicks up to meet yours, his purple eyes so intense that your mouth parts in a soft gasp. He presses his lips together to wet him with his tongue, and rephrases his previous statement into a question, “Do you want to stay the night… with me?”

Your heart catches in your throat.

“I thought that– Didn’t you—” you draw a slow, deep breath; trying again so you don’t stumble your words anymore, “You said you wanted to stop this.”

“I was drunk when I said that.”

“Drunk words are sober thoughts,” you remind him.

Aemond scoffs, looking off to the side. “Then that saying is clearly false.”

Then his gaze finds yours again, wide and imploring. Don’t make me ask again, his pretty violet eyes say, because you know I will. I always will.

You should say no and go home.

It’s a terrible idea and you’ll regret it now that you know how much it hurts him when you leave him after.

But your better judgment gets away from you, remembering how Aemond’s body feels against yours.

“Okay…I’ll stay the night, ” You tell him, slow yet sure. “…With you.”

Aemond lets out a shuddering breath he had been holding, cupping your face to pull you into an unhurried and tender kiss. It’s sweet and chaste. That’s how it always starts.

As quiet as you both can, you slip into his room together, Aemond’s hand holding yours.

As soon as he locks his door behind him, Aemond’s mouth is on yours again. This time with more heat, stoking a burning flame deep in your loins. His large hands slip under your shirt, grasping tight on your hips. When your mouth parts with a keening mewl, he takes that opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth, deepening the kiss with a pleasured grunt of his own.

Aemond pulls apart from you, glancing down to unbutton and unzip your jeans with experienced quickness.

“Off,” he commands between heaving breaths, watching you through dark and hooded eyes as you do exactly what he says.

When you kick away your jeans, Aemond is already pulling you back to him and pushing your back against the wall, lifting up your right leg around his waist to grind the hard bulging in his pants against your panty covered core.

You stutter out a moan into his mouth, and he hushes you, catching your bottom lip between his teeth, pulling and nipping until they feel swollen and raw. You damage his the same with every fervent kiss you crush against his mouth.

Neither of you stop, unable to pull away from the other’s lips or grinding hips. Not even when Aemond slips a hand down and pressed his fingers onto the cotton of your frilly black panty, the pads of his fingers becoming wet and sticky at the contact.

It has him choking out an airy moan, cursing under his breath. “Seven Hells… you’re soaked.”

You bite at his shoulder to suppress a whine, bucking into his fingertips as they tease the sensitive button between your thighs.

“All for me, right, pretty girl?” He huskily murmurs in your ear, his finger rubbing and rubbing until your legs start to shake around him.

You nod fervently at Aemond’s question, and he rewards you with a smirk, another bruising kiss, and his fingers pulling your panty to the side to trace up and down the folds of your cunt. He spreads your slick with every slow glide, and it has you needy for something more.

“Aemond, please…”

He lets out a husky chuckle as you feel his fingers teasing at your entrance. You move your hips to try to force it to slip into you, but Aemond pulls away with a playful hum. “Uh-Uh.”

Your mouth opens to protest, but then Aemond suddenly tucks a finger inside you. It has you keening and whining instead, grasping onto him tightly.

“Good girl,” Aemond praises breathily against your temple. He put another finger in beside the first and starts fucking into you at a moderate pace and occasionally scissoring wide. You wince at the stretch but you love it. His fingers slide slowly in and out of you, deeper each time until they’re all the way down to the knuckles, curling so it hits your sweet spot. Biting down your bottom lip, you stifle a moan as you come undone, dripping onto Aemond’s hand. He groans without stopping the flick of his wrists, keeps you shaking and writhing against him throughout your whole orgasm, “That’s it… That’s a good girl.”

Once you’re spent, Aemond pulls his fingers out of you. He brings it up between you, both noticing how much it gleams, fully covered in your juices. Keeping his gaze in yours, Aemond presses his soaked digits against your bottom lip, which you open without hesitation, darting your tongue out to taste yourself on him. Aemond grunts, sticking his fingers deeper in your mouth. Eyelash fluttering at him, you close your lips around his digits with a hum, sucking and licking until your essence is nearly gone.

Aemond grins in satisfaction, gaze soft with endearment, and then he is kissing you once more.

“I can’t wait any more,” he tells you, pressing his hard bulge onto you as evidence of that.

Stumbling onto the bed, Aemond falls over you; his mouth hot on the juncture of your jaw and neck; and his hand spanning wide and grazing up your ribcage, dragging your shirt up with him.

He groans when his thumb brushes across the underside of your breast, finding you bare.

“Knew you weren’t wearing anything underneath, little tease,” he sneers in your ear, biting at the lobe while his fingers twists at a nipple until it pebbles under his touch. “That’s why you came over, right? Wanted me begging for another taste?”

Eyes squeezing shut, you shake your head no.

That’s not what you wanted. You didn’t come over to hurt him again.

But when Aemond dips down and his warm mouth latches onto the nipple on the side of your chest that his hand was not already groping tenderly, your back arches for him. For more.

And so there might have been a small chance that he is right in his assumptions.

You feel Aemond’s teeth grazing your skin. And when you glance down at him with a whimper, he meets your gaze with mirth and something more feral in his own. Then he is biting down around the well-sucked and hardened nub, teeth marks replacing the one he made there last week that is fading away.

As your hand threads through his hair, Aemond’s tongue laves across the valley of your breast, tasting salt skin, and then proceeds to do the same to that nipple exactly what he had done to the one before.

His hand trails down, pushing your underwear aside once more to press his fingers inside again — though this time, it’s slow and his thumb is drawing lazy circles around your clit.

You come for the second time that night like that, from the combination of him fingerfucking you and biting your chest multiple times as if laying his claim on you.

Aemond sits up on his knees to look down at you.

He admires the sight of you laying under him with your shirt rucked up over your tits, heavily breathing, nipples wet and raw from his mouth, and your cunt dripping for him while your thighs are covered in your mess that he made of you.

Aemond hunches over, a palm pressed on the mattress just beside your head and his other hand gripping so tightly around your jaw that your mouth falls open.

“You’re such a messy slut ,” Aemond sneers at you, but his tone has a hint of lightness in it, praiseful; and when he spits in your mouth right after, you swallow it down with a contented mewl. There’s a glint of possessiveness in Aemond’s dilated eyes, the violet irises hardly visible anymore.

“ My messy slut,” he all but growls, kissing you again and again and again.

There is something about the way Aemond kisses you. It is like he is trying to put all his mounting feelings there against your lips, because he knows if he says it aloud, you will just likely run away.

So you let him. Let Aemond kiss you as though the two of you are lovers. Like this isn’t just a beneficial arrangement between two lonely and desperate people.

When he pulls back, he stares at you for a while, his hand curled at the side of your face while his thumb tenderly grazes along the fullness of your cheek. He licks his lips, as if he is going to say something, but then he stops and shakes his head to himself.

“Come on, get on all fours,” he commands instead, laying a solid smack on your outer thigh to get you moving. You roll over, getting on your elbows and knees while also throwing a playful glare over your shoulder at him, mouthing a reminder that his sister is just in the room next door.

After rolling his eyes, Aemond pulls his shirt off and throws it carelessly somewhere in his room and pulls his jeans and underwear enough for his hard cock to spring out.

You entice him with a sway of your hips, and what you get in return is a slap over your cunt. It makes you accidentally yelping out loud, but you cut it off by dropping your head forward to bite down on the pillow beneath you.

“Act like a whore and you get treated like one,” Aemond reminds you, gripping your hips hard enough to leave indents of crescent moons on your skin. You nod in understanding, smearing makeup all over his pillowcase.

Aemond grabs the fat of your ass, spreading your cheeks apart. It feels so lewd, how you feel him leering at the way both your holes clenches, how you’re absolutely dripping down your legs and onto the cover of his bed.

“The prettiest little pussy in the whole Seven Kingdoms,” Aemond murmurs, so softly as if he had not meant to say it out loud, and yet the compliment sends a thrill down your spine while you whimper for him.

But that does not compare to the noise you make when he gathers up saliva in his mouth, only to slowly dribble it out to drop onto you, letting it drip down the cleft of your ass all the way down through the folds of your pussy. “But it’s so soaked and eager for cock like a slut.”

You can’t help but hum in agreement, pushing back to grind your ass along his length. He lays a wet smack to your ass for that little disobedient act, though before you can arch away, he pulls you towards him, his cock spearing you wide open. In this position, you feel every twitch of the veins on his cock while he reaches so deep inside you. The leaking head of his cock pressing against that sweet spot with every thrust of his hips against your ass. You shut your eyes to focus on the wonderful feeling.

“Gods, you’re so tight and sweet,” Aemond hisses, throwing his head back. The way your cunt squeezes around him is like a chokehold. It’s hard for him to breathe at how amazing it feels, his body moving and his heart racing for more.

He looks back down again, the sight of the mixture of his precum and your juices frothing around the base of his cock as he slams into you again and again has him groaning.

He grabs onto a fistful of your hair, pulls you up until your back hits his chest. The new position has you sinking down on his cock, writhing and mewling with every inch you take.

“Look up,” Aemond whispers in your ear, and when your eyes finally flutter open, you see the reflection of yourself and Aemond in the mirrored sliding door of his closet. It is quite a sight – your red-rimmed eyes, your tear stained cheeks, the heavy heaving of your arched chest, the hickeys and bite marks all over your body, and the way your glistening cunt is stretched so wide around Aemond’s huge cock. “Gods, you’re gorgeous. And you look so good getting fucked.”

To prove his point, he guides you to ride him with his hands on your hips.

“Keep your eyes on me, sweetheart,” Aemond orders as he pulls your hair back tighter, fucking up into you when he pushes your hips down. You moan out his name which makes him smirk, his hand covering your mouth to muffle your incoherent and pleasured noises. “Shh… Shh… Shh… If you get any louder, someone’s gonna barge in here and see how you’re such a cockslut for me… So just keep quietly taking my cock like a good little girl, yeah?”

Nodding, you press your lips together in hopes to obey him, not wanting to get punished when you are so close. You watch yourself in the mirror getting fucked so roughly, the heat inside you continuing to build up.

“Fuck, you feel so goddamn good,” Aemond hotly murmurs against the side of your neck, leaving more hickeys there as a reminded of tonight.

You’re greedy. So greedy.

You love the way Aemond makes you feel.

He fucks you rough and hard in the way you crave; but with every touch, you feel his adoration for you.

You revel in it.

Greedy. Greedy. Greedy.

“Come on, baby, come on my cock — Fuck! You look so good, bouncing on my cock… Can’t wait to fill your tight little cunt… Gonna breed you— yeah? You like that, little slut? Fuck, that’s what I thought…”

Aemond loses it when you nod at his accusation of you wanting him to breed you. He drives into you until your eyes start to roll back, seeing stars.

You made him this way. This is how you slowly coaxed him to take you. When this first started, Aemond was sweet and caring, cooing praises into your ear with every slow thrust of his hips. But as it went on, you asked more of him. A hand squeezing around your neck, a strike rippling your bottom until it’s bruised, had him uttering spiteful and awful names that made you cry — you don’t know why but that’s how you like it.

(Perhaps it’s because of the rumors you heard about another Targaryen guy who likes to fuck girls just as roughly.)

At the thought, you come impossibly hard. Your squirt goes everywhere, has Aemond slipping out at how wet it is. He groans in both frustration and satisfaction, pushing back inside you just in time to fill you up to the brim with his cum. He empties inside you, rolling your hips against him until you are too sensitive, whimpering for him to hold on a second.

Aemond does not care and does not give you a moment to catch your breath, already pushing you back down on the bed and turning you on your side, lifting your leg to hang on his shoulder and guides his already hardened cock back inside you again. Though feeling oversensitive now, you can’t deny how much you want more. Until you can’t think anymore about why your best friend still hasn’t made his way home yet or whose bed he ended up in tonight.

Aemond fucks you until the morning light, has you shaking and quivering and cumming in every new position — on your back, in a mating press, his tongue spreading over you, behind you again…

It’s because it has been a week since he had you, so really, he is just making up for lost time.

You wake up cuddling with Aemond, after only a few hours of sleep. But you feel well rested despite that and the strenuous activities you partook in all night and early morning.

Humming in content, you nuzzle your face into the nape of Aemond’s neck. Surprisingly, this morning you are the big spoon, your arm and leg thrown over Aemond’s body like a clingy koala.

Ever the light sleeper, the butterfly kisses you leave on his spine has Aemond stirring, turning his body in a still half-asleep pace to face you.

“Mornin’,” he drawls huskily, an adorable sleepy grin on his lips.

“Good morning,” you greet back with a smile, a bit more chirpy and awake. You lean in to give him a sweet peck on his lips, but Aemond pulls you in for something deeper as his hand slides to the nape of your neck in a possessive hold. You mewl as his tongue slips in your mouth and when you feel him thickening up against your thigh.

Gently, you push him onto his back, mouth still on each other with passionate kisses as you climb on top of him. You only part for his lips for a second to grab his hard cock to ease your cunt over it, sliding him inside you with a wet squelch.

Aemond sighs at the tight clench of your walls around him, languidly kissing you while you roll your hips over him. The sex is slow and sweet, gentler than all the ones the two of you had in the last eight hours.

You cream around him in such a lovely way, softly moaning his name in his ear for only him to hear. That’s all it takes for Aemond to come inside you again.

“I need to pee,” you tell Aemond a couple minutes later, your fingers running gently through his hair while his face is tucked into the crook of your shoulder.

Aemond doesn’t immediately let you free, he even tightens his arms around you. He pulls his head back though, the back of it hitting the wall behind him, just to peer at your pretty face.

“Just piss on my cock… You’d probably like that,” he says with a teasing smirk.

You shove at him, laughing as you get up from his softened length and off the bed too. “Shut up!”

Once you find your tiny crop top, you put it on. You find your underwear too, but it’s so ruined that you throw it at Aemond instead. He catches it easily, balling it up in his hand and takes a deep inhale, all the while without taking his gaze off you.

Though the sight makes you heat up from head to toe, you wrinkle your nose at him. “Gross.”

Aemond only grins. He knows you well enough — you like depraved shit like that. If you already weren’t so stuffed full of his cum, he’ll probably find you wet again just from his little panty sniffing stunt.

As you put on your jeans and socks, you and Aemond are making playful conversation.

It’s easy. It’s nice. It feels a little too domestic that it has Aemond thinking this could be a start of something. But he knows he shouldn’t get his hopes up like this.

“— I still can’t believe the Oberyn Martell is actually going to be a professor at your uni next year…”

“You know, it’s never too late to transfer,” Aemond tells you with a frown. The school he is attending now was your dream school all your life, and yet when you got in, you declined the offer – to go to the same school as his brother. “You got in once. You can easily do it again.”

“Yeah, but…” You are standing by his desk, flipping through the brochure detailing the seminars Oberyn Martell, a famous political journalist, will be holding for the rest of the year before his official classes for the next year at Dorne University. You shrug, sending a weak smile his way, “King is pretty good too. I’ve no real complaints except for…”

In the middle of speaking, you trail off, staring out the window as a heavy revving of an old car engine can be heard outside.

Aemond already knows who it is.

It’s Aegon, pulling up into the driveway in his sleek red 1968 Shelby. But what really gives it away is how your brows knit together as you watch Aegon walk up the pathway, whistling happily without a care in the world, as if he wasn’t out all night making you worried sick.

Aemond is looking at you the same – longingly and sad. Hoping and wishing and praying for you to feel something for him, even just a tiny bit of what you feel for his older brother.

“I should go,” you tell Aemond with a wan smile after you quickly check yourself in the mirror to fix anything amiss.

Sighing tiredly, all Aemond can do is nod as he stares down on his lap.

Without another word, you leave him there glancing down at his hands that just touched you all night, memorized every curve of your body, and found all the right places that made you sing in pleasure.

But it’s not enough. It’s never enough.

Aemond heads downstairs ten minutes after you left, already hearing laughter coming from the kitchen. The air smells of fresh brewed coffee, bacon, eggs, and waffles.

He passes by Daeron in the living room. The youngest Targaryen has a plate of all of that beside where he sits on the ground while his focus is on the story-driven zombie apocalyptic video game on the television screen.

When Aemond arrives at the kitchen, he stands by the arch of the door, leaning on his side against it with his arms crossed in front of him.

He hates how his heart aches, watching as you laugh so joyfully at a story Aegon is animatedly telling while he pours maple syrup on a plate of waffles that the two of you were sharing . Aemond knows you don’t like things too sweet, and yet you allow Aegon to drown the waffles until they are soggy.

It’s always like this. You give, Aegon takes. You give up your dream school because Aegon’s fragile ego couldn’t handle being rejected and wants you beside him at all times. You let him treat you like shit because you are so in love with him.

You’re so enraptured by Aegon’s attention finally on you that you don’t even notice that Aemond has been there for a while.

Aegon tells a joke that has you laughing so hard, your head tilting back to expose your neckline.

All of the sudden, Aegon stops laughing with you, a frown on his face as his hand reaches out to touch a mark on your neck. “I didn’t know you’re hooking up with someone…”

Clearing your throat, you pull away from his touch, smoothing your hair down to hide the mark. “I’m not.”

Aegon rolls his eyes, “Oh, cause you really gave yourself a hickey… right. So who is it?” He starts to name all the guys the two of you know, and everytime you shake your head and tell him to stop, he just gets even more annoyed and angry.

Aemond can tell that Aegon is jealous, always so possessive of you even though he doesn’t want you. But you don’t notice, you just think he’s mad cause he thinks you are screwing one of his friends.

“Can you just let it go, Aegon?” You grit out, after telling him once again that no, you are not screwing either of the Cargyll twins.

“I don’t get why you won’t tell me who it is? I tell you about all the girls I hook up with all the time!”

“And you think I want to know?”

“Just– tell me–”

“She said to let it go, Aegon,” Aemond barks out, finally making his presence known.

Aegon stares between his brother and you, breathing heavily in anger.

“Whatever. I don’t need this,” Aegon fumes in conclusion, storming out the kitchen door that leads to the backyard, and it slams close behind him.

Chewing at your lip, your gaze is set on the door he just left from.

Aemond takes a tentative step towards you. “Don’t, ___…” You glance towards him, the telltale sign that you are about to burst out crying evident in the hiccupy way you are trying to get air through your parted mouth. Aemond presses his lips together, trying to convince you to stay by how carefully he is approaching you. You deserve to be treated as a first choice. Aemond would always treat you as such. “Stop… Stop always being at his beck and call.”

You seem to think about it. Maybe he can finally get through to you — but then the revving of Aegon’s car is so loud, it snaps you out of it. You frown, eyes watering. “I’m so sorry, Aemond…��

Then you are running out after Aegon like you always seem to be.

And for the third time that summer, you crush Aemond’s heart beyond repair.

Summer’s ending, and every single day, Aemond’s wishing for it to just be over.

Sure he can change his flight back to Sunspear to an earlier one, but he knows his mother would question why and also be incredibly sad about it. Aemond does not have the heart to do that to her.

He has all his luggage packed already, eager to just book it to the airport as soon as he is able to.

It’s been too much to bear. He still sees you pretty much every day but he hasn’t talked to you since that morning a week and half ago.

But of course, you and Aegon have reconciled. Attached to the hips once again. Best friends forever and ever and ever and ever — just like the two of you would often promise each other since you were young.

Aemond calls it the honeymoon period. When you and Aegon make up after a fight (one that Aegon is usually the cause of and the one that starts it for no reason) and spend every waking minute together for the next few weeks. Aegon will demand for your time whenever he wants it, has you waiting by your phone for his call and canceling plans that he is not a part of. You don’t seem to mind though, as long as Aegon showers you with needy and dependent affections… Until a new girl catches his eyes that has him wagging his tail and tongue hanging out. He then neglects your friendship in pursuit to get in her bed, causing another fight.

Rinse and repeat.

The cycle will never end.

Not unless you end it. Decide that you’ve had enough of Aegon treating you like a convenient option instead of a priority.

Or more unlikely, for Aegon to finally return your feelings.

But Aemond highly doubts either of those will ever happen.

“Hey, are you ready yet?”

Speak of the devil…

Aegon peeks his head inside Aemond’s room. He didn’t even bother to at least knock before he barged in. He takes a look at where Aemond is sitting against the headboard of his bed with a book in his hands — dressed in dark blue jeans, a plain white t-shirt with a black short-sleeved shirt loose and unbuttoned over it.

“Oh good, you are!” Aegon then opens the door wider. “Actually, can I talk to you about something?”

Aemond huffs in irritation, and before he can even answer, Aegon steps inside like he owns the place, closing the door behind him.

Aegon takes his sweet time – glancing around, picking up things on Aemond’s desk to look at, then putting it back down, flicking at the picture taped on the wall… Finally, he turns to face Aemond and comes out with it, “Do you know who _____ is hooking up with?”

Aemond’s eyes widen slightly but then quickly keeps his expression carefully neutral, not wanting to give anything away. “No. Why would I know?”

Aegon nods slowly, but there’s something about the way his lips purses to the side seems disbelieving.

Aemond clears his throat after standing up from the bed. “Why are you even asking me?”

Did you tell Aegon something? About you and him?

“I dunno, just asking…” Aegon shrugs, mouth pulled down in an exaggerated frown. “…You two have been spending a lot of time together lately, so I just thought you would know.”

With narrowed eyes, Aemond reminds him, “The only reason we’ve been spending a lot of time together is because you’re always ditching her for other girls.”

Aegon licks his lips and then grins uncomfortably at how his younger brother just called him out. “I see that now… I think it’s because I—“ Aegon stops mid sentence and sniffs noisily, rubbing his hand over his mouth as he starts to pace a bit.

Aemond is quick to pick up on his brother’s odd behaviour and eyes him quizzically.

Then Aegon stops and looks directly into Aemond’s eyes — an expression of open vulnerability sets on Aegon’s features that Aemond feels his stomach drop.

Oh fuck no… Don’t you fucking dare say it, Aemond thinks with a slight shake of his head.

“I think I like her, Aemond,” Aegon confesses, eyes wide and watery. “I think I’m gonna tell her tonight.”

At his sides, Aemond clenches his fists, his nails biting into his palms enough to hurt. But his expression remains unbothered, apathetic even.

“Why are you telling me as if I care what you do with your life?”

Aegon chuckles with a roll of his eyes. “ Please, I’m not a complete idiot…” He is grinning as he takes a step closer to Aemond. “I know you’re in love with her…” Aemond cringes at the truth being said so loud in his otherwise quiet room. “…and you have been ever since we were young.”

Aemond’s glare on Aegon is heated.

So Aegon knew, and yet he always held your loyalty and preference to him over Aemond’s head.

With another step forward, Aegon is right in front of Aemond. The younger Targaryen’s nostrils flare, trying to keep his anger in check with his steady breathing.

“And I’m not cruel, Mondy…” Aegon says, and yet he is looking up at him with a taunting smirk. “I care about you, so I just wanted to give you a heads up.”

Then, just as he is about to turn and leave Aemond’s room, he clamps a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder, fingers digging in as he sneers into Aemond’s ear, “And just so you know… I intended to replace every filthy mark you’ve stained on her body with my own.”

Aegon’s smirk then turns to a playful smile as he lightly smacks Aemond’s cheek twice. “Mum wants to leave soon to get a good spot at the beach, so hurry up, yeah?”

Once again alone in his room, Aemond lets out the ragged breath he had not known he was even holding. He takes a seat on the edge of his bed, pressing the heels of his palms against his forehead enough to hurt — but it's still not as bad as the squeezing of his heart.

It is a Targaryen family tradition to celebrate the annual summer festival that marks the end of summer at Blackwater Bay beach. But obviously with what Aegon has planned to do tonight, Aemond would rather be anywhere but there.

When Alicent’s mini Cooper pulls into the parking lot of the beach, Aemond guesses it’s a little too late to back out. He steps out of the car, just as a red Shelby parks just right beside them.

Aegon exits his car, sunglasses on even though it’s already pretty dark outside. You’re not with him, Aemond notes, only the Cargyll twins follow after Aegon. You must be coming here with Alys and them.

Aemond helps Alicent grab the coolers from the back of the Cooper along with Daeron, letting Helaena take the lead to a perfect grassy area to watch the fireworks from. Aemond doesn’t stick around, deciding to walk the boardwalk that trails along the beach.

That is when Aemond catches sight of you, in a pretty white linen summer dress and your toes already in the sand. You are laughing with Alys and Rhaena, a lit up sparkler in your hand.

So pretty, like a shining star.

So close, yet so out of reach.

Just when he is about to step onto the white sand to make his way to you, someone bumps harshly past his shoulder.

With a scowl, Aemond watches on in bitter jealousy as Aegon runs to you, feet on the sand and an unlit sparkler in his hand. He captures your attention with a call of your name, and you look back at him, smiling so beautifully — a smile solely reserved for Aegon. It has your girlfriends giggling, skipping away arm in arm to give the two of you some time alone together.

With a nod, you press the tip of your sparkling sparkler to light his.

As soon as it does, Aegon leans close, murmuring something in your ear. When he pulls back, your eyes are wide, a mixture between guarded and hopeful.

In the dark, Aemond can barely read your lips,

You do?

Aegon nods.

Then his lips are on yours just as fireworks light up the night sky in brilliant arrays of colors and patterns.

It’s a picture perfect scene. One that could be in the movies when the leading hero finally gets the girl.

And as always, Aemond is left way far down on the list of credits in the story of Aegon’s life.

All through his life, Aemond got used to it; toiling for the things that Aegon is freely given.

When Aegon got his father’s beloved car when he passed away, Aemond didn’t care.

When Aemond got into the best school in the whole Seven Kingdoms and yet the fanfare wasn’t nearly as huge as when Aegon got into King’s Landing U, Aemond also didn’t care.

But even if he had anticipated it happening again – he didn’t think it would hurt this much.

Because it’s you . You are the one thing that Aemond wanted so badly for himself. He has been in love with you all his life and would have done anything for you, if you’d only let him.

Aemond chuckles bitterly, tearing his gaze away from you and Aegon, still locking lips.

Now you’re just another prize that Aegon has won without merit.

And Aemond?

He is the fool who stupidly got his hopes up — because all along, you were never even his to lose.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #hotd imagine #hotd #aemond #aemond targaryen

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stepbrorafe · 2 months

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⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

The hot water hits you in a stream, steam fogging up the glass door of your shower. Your hands run through your hair, soaking up the way the scalding water soothes your tense muscles.

You let out a hum from the pleasant feeling, before suddenly turning towards the glass door as you heard shuffling on the other side. Your brows furrow as you attempt to see through the steam, only coming up with nothing. You shrug it off as just being tired from your long day.

Letting the water fall over you for a few more minutes, you finally open your eyes once more to the sound of the shower door clicking open.

Your stepbrother stands in the doorway of the shower, towering over you with a dark look in his eyes. His hair falls over his forehead as he looks you up and down, his lips pulling into a devious smirk.

“What are you doing?!” You shriek, covering your naked body as best you can.

“I need to shower.” Rafe shrugs as if it’s not big deal.

You gape at him, “Um, clearly I am right now.”

He chuckles, “Come on. We can save water.”

Before you can object, he’s taking off his shirt. You stare in bewilderment, appalled by his carelessness. Your mouth parts as you take in his physique. You’ve always thought he was panty dropping, but now that he’s getting in the shower with you, you’re suddenly very aware of the fact.

He closes you both in the shower, turning to you with a small grin. You’re frozen in place, mouth still slack, completely thrown off by his presence like this. His grin only grows as he takes in your awkward stance, arms still clinging to your body in a futile effort to hide yourself.

“You gonna share some water or what?” He quips, inching closer to you.

You rack your brain in an attempt to find something to say, anything, but you’re left dumbfounded. His arms meet your elbows, softly moving you to the side, so that he can get under the stream.

Swallowing the dryness in your mouth, you manage to speak, “You shouldn’t be in here, it’s not right.”

His brows furrow as he faces you, “Relax, kid. Not like I’m feeling you up… Unless-“

Before you can get a single word out, his hands are cupping your waist and pulling you flush against him under the steaming fall of water. Your heartbeat quickens as you feel his member growing against your stomach.

“Rafe-“ You whisper, only for him to cut you off as he grasps your jaw.

Before you know it, his arms are hooked under your knees while he holds you up as he drills into your sopping pussy. Your back is pressed against the cold glass, providing the perfect balance to your burning skin.

“Oh my fuck.” You cry out, tits bouncing against Rafe’s chest as he thrusts in and out of you.

Your legs shake in his grip, your pussy tightening around him every so often. He attacks your mouth with a string of feverish kisses, two of you panting into one another.

“Always knew you’d be a slut for my cock, sis.” He groans in your ear, lowering you in perfect timing to meet his rough strokes.

You can’t help the loud moans that emit from your mouth as he continues to deliciously bruise your cervix. The sound of your skin slapping as his hips viciously slam into yours fills the bathroom, louder than the water pellets hitting the floor.

“Raaafe.” You cry out in staggered moans, your voice quivering with every thrust.

“Gonna cum for me? Hm?” He hums, “Wanna cum on my cock?”

You gnaw on your bottom lip to prevent the screams from spilling and furiously nod your head. He smirks down at you and picks up the brutal pace, completely wrecking your sweet little cunt.

Without warning, you’re clenching around him as your body shakes. The band in your stomach snaps, unable to hold back any longer, coating his throbbing dick in your juices with a pornographic moan leaving your mouth.

His thrusts don’t stop, only growing deeper and harder as he grunts, causing you to squeal, “Too much!”

He slams you down hard on his cock, the imprint of him bulging from your stomach as he cums, painting your walls a milky white. He keeps pumping in and out of you, filling you up until he has nothing left to give.

Placing you down on wobbly legs, he roughly squeezes your cheeks and plants a sloppy kiss on your lips.

“You belong to me now.”

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

tags : @sunkissedrafe @wickedtactics @bunnycvnts @butterflyoceandreams @rafesgiirl @yourenogoodforme @marvelfanfics1recs @cini-mini27 @pinkribboncoco @drewsphswife @laniirackssss @ditzyzombiesblog

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loveinhawkins · 1 month

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ao3

A gnawing sense of foreboding creeps up on Steve as they head to Eddie’s trailer, armed with weapons.

He tries to outrun it through action: ensuring he’s the first one to go through the Gate; jumping back and forth between The Upside Down and their world whenever someone forgets something, “It’s okay, I’ve got it!”; triple checking that the cables for Eddie’s amps are long enough; searching for the slightest thing than seizing upon it with an enthusiasm bordering on desperate, “Hey, we could use this, right? Better take it, just in case.”

But that only works for so long, and then Steve’s just standing in Eddie’s kitchen, the real one, staring blankly at the cupboards, all out of distractions.

Out of time.

He hears a grunt of exertion behind him, then an unsteady landing, a muffled curse. Eddie.

“Jesus Christ, Steve. Wanted to fit your aerobics routine in?”

He’s teasing, so light-hearted despite it all; Steve can’t stand it.

Keeps his back turned, gut twisting, opening the cupboards then slamming them shut, thump, thump. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for. He never has.

“Uh, so I was thinking,” Eddie continues, like Steve’s not doing anything weird, “that I could stretch out the, um, the song? My playing? Could buy you some more time, anyway.”

“Sure, great,” Steve says shortly.

He thinks—with a numb kind of calm—that he’s going to be sick.

He gets to the bathroom, tries to shut the door, but his grip slips on the handle.

Turns on the faucet, scoops cold water from his hands into his mouth, and it helps until it doesn’t, until he’s almost choking on it, and he’s been here before, the feeling familiar: a shadow looming over him, just waiting, waiting, and he knows it’ll pass, it always does, but he can’t stop thinking of Robin, it might not work out for us this time, and what if, what if—

He can hear Eddie knocking on the doorframe, just out of view—as if he’d seen Steve’s failed attempt at shutting the door and wanted to respect it.

“Hey, man, you okay?” Then Eddie mutters to himself, “Obviously not, get a fucking clue.”

Steve’s laugh is strangled but real. He wipes his mouth dry and shuts off the water.

“You don’t need to talk to a wall, dude,” he says.

And Eddie steps into view, leans against the open door. His eyes flicker across Steve’s face, and Steve doesn’t want to know what he’s noticed, so when Eddie opens his mouth hesitantly, he speaks first.

“We should—they’re gonna wonder where we are.”

Eddie pauses on the verge of speech; Steve watches him reevaluate whatever he was going to say.

“Well,” Eddie says, gesturing to the bathroom, matter-of-fact, “we could be peeing.”

Steve manages a chuckle. “You’re an idiot.”

Eddie grins like he’s saying yup, that’s me, like he’s won a prize.

Steve has seen him wear something close to that expression not even an hour ago: when the kids had started a line to use the bathroom in the RV, and Eddie had snorted, giggled with a childish kind of delight, “You—ha! You all look like you’re on a field trip,” before joining the line himself—calling out that he hoped their plan accounted for bathroom breaks because, “There’s no way I’m pissing in the alternate dimension,” and that had made Nancy break, laughing in a way Steve was certain he hadn’t heard since ‘83.

Eddie steps into the room and shuts the door quietly. Steve gets why: his breathing’s still all wrong, and if Dustin happened to see him, he doesn’t think he’d ever forgive himself.

“Sorry.” Steve sucks in a breath, tries to hold it. Loses it in an exhale that shudders at the edges. He speaks through the tail end of it, hoping that’s enough to conceal the sound, “Gimme, like, two minutes.”

“Make it ten,” Eddie says.

The way he says it makes it seem like it’s already a done deal; he must’ve spoken to Robin and Nancy before he tumbled through the Gate.

Despite himself, Steve feels a wave of relief: just for a little while, he has time; it overpowers the shame, leaves him sinking down to sit on the closed toilet seat.

He closes his eyes, just breathes. In… out… in…

He doesn’t realise that Eddie’s sitting down, too, until he hears the clunk of his boots, the rustle of clothing as he moves.

“Sorry,” Steve says again, and it annoyingly still comes out a little shaky, like he’s in the pool and he’s left it too long to snatch a breath. “You can go back, man, I’ll… I’ll be right there.”

He opens his eyes to see Eddie shaking his head, sat with his back against the bathtub.

“Stop apologising,” Eddie says, and then it’s as if the seriousness of it is too much for him, because he adds, with a self-deprecating smile that Steve hates, “I get it. You’re walking into the dragon’s lair, I’m just putting on a concert.”

“Don’t,” Steve says, and he doesn’t intend for the word to come out as sharp as it does, but that doesn’t change the fact that he means it. He means it.

Eddie’s smile fades.

“Don’t,” Steve repeats, quieter. Not quite an apology.

Slowly, he moves off the toilet seat, until he’s sat next to Eddie. There’s just enough space that they don’t need to touch, but Steve presses his shoulder against Eddie’s anyway, like he can somehow pass on everything he means through that alone.

Eddie sighs, presses back for just a second. “Don’t what?” he asks. He sounds tired all of a sudden.

“Don’t—don’t joke like that,” Steve says. “Like you’re not—” He swallows. “Like it’s not dangerous.”

There’s a pause. Eddie reaches across and puts a hand on Steve’s knee. Squeezes briefly and pulls back; already Steve finds that he misses the warmth of him.

“Hey, don’t worry,” Eddie says. There’s no joke in this, not a trace. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to Dustin.” Another smile. Gentle. “Swear on his mother.”

I’m not worried about that, Steve wants to say, but of course that’s not true; he’s tried hard not to look at Dustin directly ever since they arrived at the trailer, because his throat would start to close up alarmingly whenever his gaze lingered, and he knows the kid’s doing that whole semi-aloof teenager thing lately, but a part of him still wants to hold him tight and never let go.

It’s more that the shape of Steve’s worry is different to what he thinks Eddie’s imagining, covers more than Dustin’s safety alone—that the cold dread in his stomach brings him back to the tunnels in ‘84; to clutching Dustin, who was so small, Steve desperately trying to shield him with his own body, thinking the kid’s thirteen, only thirteen, this isn’t fucking fair; and that if this had to end one way, all he could do was pray that he’d be the only one to…

And Steve hadn’t wanted to die, but he was suddenly facing it anyway, and Christ, looking back at it, that was crazy, the whole damn thing was crazy, but it all made a twisted kind of sense at the time.

Eddie must spot that his train of thought’s gone down a dark alley because he knocks their knees together, but he doesn’t say anything. Just breathes, slumped against the bathtub; it’s probably the first time he’s been still—truly still—in a long while.

He must be exhausted, Steve thinks.

The gnawing feeling digs in, grips his heart.

“I can hear you thinking,” Eddie says quietly. “Listen, Steve, I know I’m new to, uh… all of this shit, but I’m on it, okay? Got it all up in here,” he taps the side of his head, “trust me—”

That’s not what—I trust you, of fucking course I do, but—

“—no deviations, and—”

“Plans change,” Steve says, and he hears himself, the calm decisiveness, just get ready; Dustin’s scream carrying across the junkyard, Steve, abort, abort! “Just… just promise me.”

“Promise you?” Eddie murmurs.

Steve feels the words on his tongue, the weight of them. Don’t do anything stupid.

He swallows them down—afraid suddenly that if he really puts a name to it, it’s going to happen.

Fuck it, he’s exhausted too, and for a long moment he evades speaking: gingerly rests his head on Eddie’s shoulder. Feels his body heat, the swell of his breathing.

Eddie doesn’t tense up, just lets him rest there.

If I kissed you, Steve thinks, drained, would you stay?

He doesn’t say it. Instead he lifts his head and asks, “What are you doing tomorrow?”

Eddie chuckles. They’re still so close, Steve can feel his amused sigh.

“Tomorrow? I’ve not really… like, hopefully I’m not in jail. Anything else is a bonus.”

“We’ll fix it,” Steve says fiercely. “Trust me.”

“Oh, I believe you,” Eddie says, grinning fondly, but he sounds genuine. “Shit, man, I think you could do anything.” He gestures outside. “Got the fucking dream team out there.”

“We solved a secret Russian code last summer.”

Eddie laughs. “Did you?” His eyes sparkle with mirth.

You’re beautiful.

“Gospel truth, I swear,” Steve says. He tries to stay light, but he makes the vow anyway. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

I have so much to tell you.

They stand up, and Steve doesn’t know who’s the first one to move—just that they both probably sensed the time dwindling.

And maybe it’s that, the inescapable thought that something’s coming to an end that does it. Steve doesn’t know for sure, just knows that his eyes are burning suddenly—mortifyingly—with tears. He looks up at the ceiling, hurriedly trying to push them back, but Eddie notices anyway.

“Steve, what is it?” he whispers, with a look of utter devastation.

Steve shakes his head. “Just being stupid,” he says, voice brittle, cutting himself off before he can say something ridiculous.

God, Eddie, let’s just stay here and grow old.

“You’re not stupid,” Eddie says, heartfelt—he stops just short of touching Steve; he clearly wants to help so badly, but he doesn’t know how.

Steve wants to tell him it’s fine. He doesn’t know either.

Maybe nothing can help this.

They leave for the Gate in unspoken agreement; at first Steve finds comfort in the sight of Eddie dangling on the rope, not quite in either world. Like every possibility is laid out before him.

I’ll tell you tomorrow.

But there’s a near imperceptible shift as Eddie keeps climbing, and Steve needs to look away, anything to avoid the pit in his stomach: the suspicion that the path’s already been chosen.

#they’re all just scared kids #Steve “desperately trying to escape a tragedy” Harrington #Eddie “if I make a joke it isn’t real” Munson #steddie fic #pre steddie #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie

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munson-blurbs · 3 months

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How do you think Eddie would react to a fwb reader who uses sex as a distraction from their feelings?? Like, they’ve been having a bad week an their mental state isn’t great but heyyy there’s sex. Reader doesn’t really care about the pleasure part of sex just the distraction. Worried Eddie would feel a little used ngl :P

((Dancy dances away nervously))

I know you started this with "do you think" but my brain said WRITE A BLURB so here we are. Also shoutout @corroded-hellfire for helping me make it cute without being cliche.

Warnings: mentions of smut (18+ only, minors DNI), friends with benefits, angst/yearning, idiots in love, made it fluffy because I'm a sap

WC: 747

You hadn’t thought anything of it the night he’d called you “baby.” He was deep within you, melding his body with yours. Lost in the moment.

Or the night he’d mumbled, “your pussy was made for me” while slamming into you from behind. It was just dirty talk; nothing more and nothing less.

Maybe you should have been tipped off when he’d growled, “mine,” his voice barely above a whisper as he pressed soft kisses below your earlobe. You’d figured the word, like the sex, was meaningless.

But tonight’s comment stops you in your tracks. Your legs are wobbling beneath you, exhausted from riding him, as you step back into your pants.

“Do you wanna, like, cuddle for a sec?”

A giggle escapes from your lips, swollen and kiss-bitten. He’s joking; he has to be. The two of you have a perfectly choreographed routine: you have a bad day, you call Eddie, you fuck, and then you leave. And his latest suggestion would definitely interfere with step four.

When your eyes meet his, you realize that he’s serious. Hurt and confusion at your laughter crease his brows, and he tugs the sheet up a bit higher.

“Sorry, I, um…” He shakes his head and rubs his face. “Never mind. You probably have to go anyway.”

You’re in no hurry to return home, fresh off of yet another argument with your roommate. That’s why you’d come over to Eddie’s trailer in the first place. And it isn’t as though you’d never thought about being in his strong, tattooed arms. The way he’d hold you flush against him, your cheek on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat in your ear. It’s something you’d once wanted—craved, even—but you couldn’t let vulnerability infiltrate you like that again.

You spent high school watching him pine over the cheerleaders. He unwittingly broke your heart over and over with each woman he hooked up with at the Hideout, overlooking you despite your presence at every show. Being friends with benefits is risky enough, and post-sex snuggling will send you teetering over the edge back into the rocky terrain of unrequited love.

And so you lean into humor as you shrug on your shirt. “I don’t think this friends-with-benefits arrangement includes cuddling.” Keeping your tone light and even, restraining every desire to crawl into bed with him.

“Right, yeah.” He sighs and offers a sad half-smile. “It’s just…I was thinking—”

“That’s dangerous.”

He flips you off and continues. “I was thinking that maybe we could be more than that. Y’know, maybe we could have sex when you’re happy, too.”

“I am happy when we have sex,” you counter.

Eddie shakes his head again. “I’m talking about before we do it.” He gnaws on his thumbnail. “It feels like you only want me when you have a bad day. A-And I’m glad I can be here for you and stuff, but sometimes I wonder if I’m a friend or just a good lay.”

You try to look at him when you speak, but he keeps his gaze trained on the ground. “Eddie,” you start, taking a seat next to him. His chest is slick with sweat, the soft hairs matted down. “Eddie, I had the biggest, dumbest crush on you when we were younger. And knowing I couldn’t have you tore me apart.” You let your hand rest on his. “I can’t risk having you and then losing you.”

“Losing me?” Eddie laughs softly and his free palm comes up to cup your cheek. “Look at me. Where am I going?”

“You could find someone new, someone better, someone who—”

He cuts you off with a searing kiss, remnants of your arousal still tinging his lips and tongue. “There’s no one better,” he murmurs. “You see me answering the door at two in the morning for anyone else? Think I’d miss out on precious sleep for them?”

One arm hooks around you back and pulls you in until you assume the little spoon position. Nimble fingers undo the button of your jeans, slowly and patiently, a stark contrast to the way he’d practically torn the denim removing them earlier.

“‘S that comfier?” He asks through a yawn.

“Mhm.” And it is. It’s the most relaxed you’ve been in a while, at least without him inside you.

His curls tickle the back of your neck as he nuzzles into you. He staves off sleep long enough to speak one last time.

“I’m glad you’re staying, baby.”

#requests #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #smut

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agustdiv1ne · 11 months

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.𖥔 ݁ ˖12:43 a.m. (m) — choi yeonjun

genre: smսt (minors/ageless blogs dni), angst for flavor, fluff, friends to lovers, alcohol consumption (so somewhat tipsy sex warning!!), this has more plot and is much longer than i initially expected but it is still very self-indulgent LOL

wc: 2.9k

“you should talk to him.”

the sound of beomgyu's voice a concerningly close distance from your ear causes you to flinch, a bit of the drink in your hand sloshing over the side of the can and onto the already sticky floor. tearing your eyes away from yeonjun, you meet beomgyu's half-lidded gaze; he's drunk, painfully so — and a drunk beomgyu means a considerably more irritating beomgyu.

“why are you over here?” you say, waving your drink around the dark corner of the living room that you staked claim on earlier in the night after chaewon had bailed on you. “shouldn’t you be, like, making out with someone by now?”

“well, you looked miserable, so i decided to be a good friend ‘n come check on you first,” he grins, stumbling when he tries to lean closer and bar you from staring at the man across the room. with a huff, you shove him away and help situate himself against the wall next to you.

“my hero,” you deadpan, blocking out whatever half-baked words beomgyu spews out next in favor of watching yeonjun, your lips pursing as he laughs along with the group of guys surrounding him.

you must admit, he looks...amazing tonight. a light grey tank top allows you a perfect view of his muscle-thickened arms. loose-fitting jeans lay low on his hips, and you catch a peak of his toned stomach and the band of his boxers when he lifts a hand to high-five someone. the self-assured smirk on his lips has not left since you first spotted him. it's almost infuriating; you wonder how he seems so okay, uncaring, after what happened, while your life has all but fallen apart without his presence. you never knew how losing a close friend — okay, a close friend who you have not-so-platonic feelings for — could be so harrowing. until now. the urge to cry and run away battles with the gnawing impulse to stomp up to him and yell straight into his stupid fucking face. you bite the inside of your cheek.

the boy next to you flicks your forehead. “quit staring like a creep and go to talk to him.”

“um, no. i’m pretty sure he hates me now,” you reply, finally looking over at him. “we haven’t talked since last week.”

“since the incident,” beomgyu adds, nodding sagely, before he takes another large swig of the suspiciously bright green liquid in his cup. slouching further against the wall, you shoot him a scalding glare. in response, he simply laughs, the sound squeaky and borderline grating, as leans his head against your shoulder.

it's quiet between the two of you for a few minutes, in which you stare at the small dents that have appeared on the can in your hand due to your unrelenting grip. you can feel the effects of the two drinks you have consumed beginning to kick in: your mind is a little less cluttered, your muscles releasing their built-up tension as warmth flows through your veins. you're still acutely aware of your surroundings — you are not as far-gone as beomgyu, that's for sure — but your situation does feel slightly less dire now that a bit of alcohol flows through your system.

“uh oh,” beomgyu mumbles over the music, leaning up to bring his mouth closer to your ear. “look who’s comin’ over.” glancing up, you find the very person you would rather not speak to making a beeline straight towards the two of you. the carefree expression he sported prior is long gone, replaced with furrowed brows and downturned lips.

you sober up immediately. panicking, you shove beomgyu off of you, ignoring the quiet “oof!” he emits as collides with the wall. he scoffs. “what’re you doin’?”

“leaving,” you mutter, ignoring the slight blur to your vision as you push through the crowd toward the dimly lit hallway that you know contains a bathroom.

without even turning around, you can tell that yeonjun is hot on your trail. you pray that the bathroom is unoccupied — and when you reach it, you luckily find that it is. slipping past the door as quickly as you can, aiming to slam the door and lock it, but a foot shoves it way past the jamb before you can fully execute your plan. you curse under your breath as yeonjun shoves his way inside, clicking the door shut behind him.

for a moment, you and him stare wordlessly at each other. in this light, you are able to see the light flush across his cheekbones from the alcohol, the dark roots of his hair that have grown out since you helped him dye it a couple weeks ago. being confronted by him in this manner makes both your heart ache and your blood boil.

“why are you here?” you spit, breaking the suffocating silence. his blank expression does not falter despite your venom-drenched tone. instead, he crosses his arms in front of him, his biceps bulging, and props himself against the wall across the counter that you presently lean on.

“why was beomgyu so close to you?” he does not answer your question, rather asks one of his own, a slight slur to his words. red tinges the edge of your vision at his blatant disregard of your query. it’s none of his business, not after what he did.

“i don’t think that really concerns you,” you decide to say. “why the fuck do you care, anyway?”

“you know why,” he prods, and the dull ache in your chest grows thorns, puncturing your lungs. your nails dig into your palms in an attempt to ground yourself. he seems to notice.

“no, actually i don’t, yeonjun.” yeonjun. it’s his name, but it is scathing coming from your lips. jjun, jjunie, anything but yeonjun. please. “please, enlighten me as to why you care if my friend is touching me.”

“because i want it to be me instead.”

the dam holding your feelings back explodes.

“you want it to be you, huh?” you laugh humorlessly. “you kiss me, eat me out, fall asleep next to me, then what? throw our it all in the trash? act like i don’t exist? real fucking funny, yeonjun. what a great way to treat one of your closest friends.”

he gapes at you, silent, while you wait for him to say something, anything. taking his lack of response as your cue to leave, you reach for the doorknob, only for his hand to envelop yours. his warm chest collides with your cheek, and his arms wrap around your waist. he buries his nose into the crown of your head.

“i’m sorry,” you hear him murmur, his arms curling around you tighter, and you can’t find it within yourself to break away from his grip. “i was so fucking terrified that you thought that what happened last night was a mistake. that i would lose you forever, i,” his breath stutters in his chest. you feel it against your skin. “i don’t want to lose you. you mean too much to me for that to happen.”

you push away from his chest, finding nothing but sincerity shining in his umber eyes. “why couldn’t you have just talked to me?” your next sentence tumbles out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. “don’t you know how long i’ve loved you?”

the gape of his mouth makes your heart race. you feel as if you have confessed something that you should not have. and yet you push forward. “yes, love. how could i ever possibly think that that was a mistake when it’s always ever been you?”

it takes him a few seconds to process your words, and you watch as his expression morphs from confused, to shocked, to...wait, is he smiling?

“can i kiss you?” he asks. the air vacates you lungs at the hopeful quirk of his lips. your resolve breaks and you allow a small nod. that’s all it takes for him to surge forward and his lips to envelope yours. it feels intrinsically different from the kisses you shared last week — no longer fueled by drunken lust and raging hormones, no teeth knocking against each other, and no sense of urgency. slow, soft, he takes his time in savoring the way you taste of your favorite lip balm mixed with the seltzer you had finished off before you tried to escape from him. gentle hands rub soothing circles against your waist while you pull him closer by wrapping your arms around his neck.

he pulls away. “i love you.” kiss. “i love you.” kiss. “i love you.”

the movement of your lips against each other grows increasingly aggressive as you continue. needy, wanting to feel each and every contour, savor every breath each other emits. he breaks away again to kiss down your neck. when you whine, the energy in the room shifts. silently, he urges you up onto the counter, your legs dangling off the edge as he slips his body between your thighs. he finds your lips once more. his hands rest upon your hips, squeezing every so often. this time, you're the one to stop him with a gentle push to his chest.

“wait,” you say as he whines and tries to pull you in again. your fingers splay across his broad chest. you nearly gulp at the sight before you’re shaking the thought away. “you’ve been drinking. i don’t want—”

“baby, i’m fine,” he interrupts. your heart flutters at the pet name. “i wanted to be able to talk to you tonight, so i had, maybe, three drinks? i’m tipsy at most — do i seem drunk? do you feel drunk? we can stop.”

“well, no, you don’t. and i drank less than you,” you admit. “i’d like to keep going...i’m just worried, um, after last time. i don’t want this to be another fluke.” your voice grows incredibly smaller as you speak, trailing off at the very end as you realize how stupid you must sound.

“baby, look at me,” he says, cupping your face. there’s a little haze in his gaze, but the sincerity in his pupils is as clear as day. you know that you look the exact same. “this will never, and i mean never, happen again. you’re mine, and i am yours. if you think i was attached to your hip before, you’re never gonna get rid of me now.”

you giggle at his joking tone, your body the lightest it’s been all night, and you reach down to guide his hands to your thighs. “then make me feel good, jjunie.”

his goofy smile turns sharp at the edges at your words, his fingers digging into your flesh as he leans down to nip and suck at the skin of your neck, your collarbones, his lips trailing down to the valley of your breasts. hands slide underneath your shirt, and you tug at his hair as he slips it off of you, making quick work of your bra. he guides the straps down your arms and off completely, leaving you bare from the waist up. he stares in awe, capturing your hands before you can cover yourself.

“so fucking pretty,” he mumbles, pressing a gentle peck against your wrist. “wanna make you feel good forever.”

“that’s a long time— oh, fuck!” you cut yourself off when his plush lips wrap around one of your nipples, playing with the bud as it pebbles beneath his tongue. he hums, and shockwaves travel straight down to your core. he switches to the other tit, his thumb circling the one that he left.

“jjun,” you moan despite his unrelenting ministrations to your breasts. “fuck me, please.”

he stands up at his full height, peering down at your desperate, needy expression with slight amusement. “yeah? you want my cock?”

“so bad,” you whisper, kiss bruised lips smeared with lipstick and spit. “please?”

he groans. “you drive me crazy.”

he falls to his knees in front of you, helping you remove your shorts and panties. a shaky exhale falls from his mouth when he sees just how soaked you are. a finger slides through your folds, collecting your wetness before bringing to his tongue. he visibly shudders.

“know you want me to fuck you, but i need to taste you first,” he mumbles, more to himself than to you before he dives in with an enthusiasm that is akin to whenever he dances, lips wrapping around your clit and sucking, hands holding open your thighs as you whimper and try to close them around his head. he’s desperate to make you cum, to bring you a level of pleasure that you’ve never experienced before. it doesn’t take you long to fall over the edge, but he does not let up until you begin to push his head away from your center.

“okay, okay,” he laughs as he stands again, taking his tank top off in the process. you gape at the sight, the hard planes of his chest, his defined biceps. it makes you wonder just how strong he is, how he could throw you around and have his way with you — another time. another time.

you reach down to palm him through his jeans, eliciting a whine from him. unbuttoning and unzipping, he helps your shove both his jeans and boxers down until his pretty, pink-tipped cock slaps against his abdomen, achingly hard and sensitive. your fingers immediately wrap around it and begin to stroke up and down, thumb collecting the precum that has collected at the tip. he bucks in your hand once before he's grabbing your hand.

condom?” he asks, and you shake your head, telling him about your birth control. he makes sure with you once again before he leans in to kiss you again, the head of his cock sliding through your folds, sliding against your throbbing clit. finally — finally — he lines up with your soaked entrance. “ready, love?”

humming, you roll your hips forward, and he hisses out a quiet "so impatient," before his hips slowly push forward, stretching your walls as you adjust to the intrusion. both of you moan at the feeling, hands flying everywhere to feel each other. he takes it slow at first, the rolling of his hips into you rhythmic and gentle — but you crave more, need him to fuck you like he means it, to take all that you're giving him and returning just as much to you.

“faster, harder, jjunie,” you pant against his lips. “wanna feel you deeper.”

“god, fuck,” he curses, your dirty words spurring him on. “don’t fuckin’, ngh, talk like that. gonna make me cum.”

his gaze grows hazy as he thrusts into you, your own eyes glazed over, both of you overwhelmed by the sensation of your walls snugly wrapped around him and him stretching you so perfectly. the pretty flush that was once contained to his cheeks has spread out across the rest of his face and down his neck, locks of his dusty rose-orange hair sticking to his forehead. you cup his cheeks and bring your foreheads together. he watches as your eyes roll back into your head after a certain thrust, so he angles his hips to press into that spot again. and again. and again. your cute little whines and moans of his name motivate him to maintain that pace.

“yeah? right there?” he queries, already knowing the answer. “so fucking cute, baby. this pussy was made for me, hm? all mine?”

“a-all yours!” you parrot, the words feeding into your dizzy state. the tendrils of an orgasm begin to wrap around you, your legs beginning to quake. you reach down to play with your clit. desperation laces your next words. “gonna cum, jjunie! please make me cum!”

he's groaning at the sight of you falling apart when your second high of the night hits. a string of curses tumbles from his mouth as his thrusts grow sloppy, his hips slapping hard against the inside of your thighs. he thrusts once, twice more before he spills inside you with a high-pitched whine, burying his head in the junction between your neck and shoulder as he holds you close to him.

“my baby,” he whispers tenderly with a quick peck to your lips when you finally come down. you chase his lips for a longer one, and he concedes easily to your silent demand. you’re smiling like fools at each other as you pull away. “never gonna let you go.”

“my jjunie,” you coo back, holding his face between your palms. you lean in to capture his lips again when a knock startles both of you. you scramble for your crumpled clothes on the floor — until you realize exactly who it is on the other side.

“are the two of you done fucking?” beomgyu’s distinct voice calls. “i need to puke.”

“way to ruin the moment,” yeonjun grumbles, and you chuckle, wiping off the stray lipstick on your face before you’re turning to him, legs still a bit shaky.

“i guess we should help him?” you say.

squeezing your waist, he pulls you closer with a sly grin. “nah, he can manage. i have my lovely little girlfriend to take care of.”

masterlist

#txt smut #yeonjun smut #txt x reader #yeonjun x reader #txt imagines #txt drabbles #yeonjun drabbles #yeonjun imagines #txt hard thoughts #txt hard hours #agust.nsfw #💌 — jjun

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unclewaynemunson · 1 year

Text

'We need to tell them, Stevie, we can't keep going on like this.'

I know. You're right. We should. But the words stay stuck in Steve's throat, so instead, he buries his head in the crook of Eddie's neck, resting against his warm shoulder, curls tickling against his cheek and his nose.

He can feel by the way Eddie pulls him close and wraps him all up in the safety of his arms, that he doesn't need to explain to him what he's thinking right now.

'We can't let them find out like this, that wouldn't be fair,' Eddie murmurs against Steve's hair.

And Steve remembers the way Dustin squinted at them when he saw how flushed and disheveled they were looking the other day; he remembers how Lucas frowned when he asked Steve why he hadn't been on a date in weeks; he remembers Max's teasing remarks when she noticed the presence of Steve's car at the trailer park yet another morning.

Eddie is right: they can't keep this up. Those kids are geniuses, they'll probably piece together what's going on in less than a week if they don't tell them.

And it's not like Steve wants to hide it. It's not like he's unsure, or ashamed, but... He is afraid. He wishes he would have more time. More time in which the kids see him exactly like they see him now. More time in which he's just Steve, their friend, instead of Steve, their queer friend. More time in which he won't give them a reason to reject him, to hate him, to look at him all differently.

He knows, logically, that nothing like that will happen. The kids love him, they love Eddie. Will has been called much worse things than queer and that never stopped them from being friends with him.

But he can't shut off that gnawing what if in the back of his mind. What if this will change everything? What if –

No. He can't let his mind go there.

He takes a deep breath and focuses on the sensation of Eddie's fingers combing through his hair, on the rhythm of Eddie's heartbeat right next to his ear.

'I don't wanna make you do this if you're not ready yet,' Eddie says softly. 'I'd wait for you, no problem, I swear. But they're gonna find out sooner rather than later. They're too fucking smart, man.'

Steve hums and lifts his head to let his lips find Eddie's. He moves slowly, taking his time, barely more than a brush against Eddie's mouth.

Then, he directs his attention to Eddie's hand, laces their fingers together, squeezes gently.

'I'm not gonna lie, I don't think I'm entirely ready just yet,' he finally says. 'But I do wanna do it on my terms – on our terms. We should tell them.'

Eddie squeezes back and lifts his other hand to trace one finger over Steve's jaw, a light touch that conveys so much gentleness that it sends a shiver down Steve's spine, makes him want to pull Eddie impossibly close in his arms again.

Eddie's eyes pierce into his soul, holding Steve frozen in his place, unable to speak.

'Together,' Eddie whispers against his skin.

And that single word is enough to ease Steve's nerves, even if it's just a little bit. Whatever happens, they'll get through it together.

XXX

It's pizza night but Steve can barely get even one bite through his throat; his stomach is twisting violently and no matter what he does, that hollow feeling just won't go away. He keeps seeking out Eddie's gaze, trying to find some comfort in those deep brown eyes, but he can't reach out and touch him – not yet. He desperately wishes he could.

When he gets to the fridge to grab some more drinks for everyone, Eddie appears behind him, moving close into his space like he always does.

'You don't exactly look like you're having a grand time tonight, Stevie,' he murmurs under his breath.

'I'm fucking nervous, man.'

Eddie chuckles, reaches out to squeeze his shoulder – just an innocent touch but enough to set Steve a little bit more at ease.

'Yeah, I can see that, big boy.'

'Aren't you?'

'Nah, not really,' Eddie immediately says. 'Whatever happens, happens, right?'

And Steve is, yet another time, struck by how different the two of them are. He will probably never understand some parts of Eddie's brain; like how little he worries about what people might think of him. He can only wish he could find a little bit more of that in himself.

'Hey,' Eddie whispers. 'I can't promise you it's all gonna be alright, because I don't know that for sure, but I strongly suspect that they'll all be amazing about it. Okay?'

Steve nods.

'You wanna wait a little longer or just get it over with?'

'Let's get it over with.'

'Alright, little shrimps, listen up!' Eddie immediately raises his voice and stomps his feet on the ground, startling everyone at the table and making them whip their heads towards where Steve and Eddie are standing with curious eyes.

'Steve and I have an announcement to make,' Eddie says, in a mockingly solemn voice while making jazz-hands for additional dramatic effect.

Lucas gasps. 'Are you gonna –'

Max hisses at him and moves slightly in her seat; when Lucas lets out a yelp before he can finish his sentence, Steve can fill in the blanks of what happened underneath the tabletop.

Eddie turns his head to look at Steve. His gaze is softer than ever.

'Do you wanna tell 'em or should I?'

Maybe they should've prepared this, Steve thinks. He swallows, doesn't think he'll be able to get more than a couple words out of his mouth with the way he's feeling like a whole goddamn army of Demobats has made themselves at home inside of him. But it would feel weak, to let Eddie do the talking. He's known those kids the longest; he owes it to them to be honest. They deserve to hear it from him.

He breathes in. Breathes out. Looks at Eddie. Looks at the group in front of him. And says the words that might change everything.

'Eddieandmearedating.'

A second passes. Two, three.

'Steve, are you, um – are you okay?' Dustin asks, his face all scrunched up in... something. Disgust? Shock? Worry?

Steve tries to smile, but his face doesn't feel right at all. He feels Eddie’s arm moving behind his back, his hand gently squeezing his shoulder, the warmth of his body now pressed against his side.

'Kinda depends on what you're about to say,' he weakly admits.

'Depends on what we're – Steve! We love you, what the hell? Did you think that we – that we –'

Lost for words, Dustin shoots a helpless look at his friends.

'I don't know, okay, I –' But before Steve can finish his sentence, Dustin launches himself out of his chair to crash into Steve and Eddie like a cannonball, wrapping both of them in a tight embrace, soon joined by El and Max and Lucas, and then by Will and Mike, until both of them are buried in a slightly suffocating group hug of smelly teenagers.

'We already knew, man,' Dustin says, sounding muffled because of the way his head is buried against Steve's chest.

'You – what?!'

'We've known for weeks,' Max admits with a slightly malicious grin. 'You weren't exactly subtle about it.'

'So why didn't you say anything?! Aren't you mad that we kept a secret from you?'

'Mike was,' Lucas says.

'What the hell, Lucas!' Mike yells back at him.

'We were talking about it at Mike's, and Nancy kinda overheard us,' Will explains with a somewhat apologetic look on his face. 'And she explained why we should wait for you to be ready.'

A warm rush of gratefulness for Nancy washes over Steve.

'She also told us that we should say thank you for trusting us or whatever,' Mike adds with a look on his face like he just swallowed a whole lemon and an awkward shrug of his shoulders. 'So, thanks, I guess.'

'We love you, man,' Lucas says, and it sounds so sincere that it almost makes Steve tear up. 'We're happy for you.'

#am i projecting my own complicated feelings about big coming out moments onto steve?#nooooo not at all #don't mind me rambling about stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #fruity ficlet

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 6 months

Text

Steddie Upside-down AU Part 17

Part 1 Part 16

Let it be known that Eddie Munson is not a morning person, presuming it’s morning at all. And with the bags under Will and Steve’s eyes, Eddie’s doubtful. He doesn’t look in the mirror to check his own. If King Steve Harrington looks this ragged even with his genetic lottery, Eddie doesn’t want to know what he looks like.

He wants to brush his teeth, but when he opened the toothpaste, it was a rusty-looking brown color. He wants a shower, but none of the pipes work, and their quarry water is a precious commodity. Hell, he wants a hot cup of coffee, and he doesn’t even like coffee.

It'd probably turn to acid once it hit his gut, though. Hunger’s gnawing at him in a way it hasn’t for years. When the fridge would be empty for days. When he wished for school days, so he could take his little blue slip up to the lunch line and get a meal for free, never mind that all the other kids gave him a wide berth for it.

It's messing with his head to have that same, gnawing feeling in this place where Wayne makes breakfast in the mornings after he gets off a shift. Where there’s always food in the fridge, no matter how lean money is. Where someone cares enough to stock it.

So, no. Eddie Munson is not a morning person, and he’s going to strangle Steve Harrington if he keeps corralling Eddie like a wayward child as they pack up their supplies for the trek to Mama Byers’s house.

“Just help me sort the first aid supplies, and then we’ll be done,” Steve says, riffling through their stolen loot where he’s strewn it out across the kitchen counter.

Eddie groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, letting the weight of his elbow settle into Steve’s shoulder. Regrettably, it’s the bad one.

“Ow, fuck,” he groans, shrugging out from beneath Eddie’s arm.

“Shit, sorry big boy,” Eddie says, fluttering his fingers toward Steve’s injured shoulder like he can magic it all better.

“Are you hurt?” Will asks quietly from where he’s once again hovering at the threshold.

They both jump, trading guilty looks at the omission caught so quickly. “Just a scratch on my shoulder,” Steve replies, like a liar.

Will nods but doesn’t seem to believe them. The kid’s clearly too smart for his own good.

“Should we go?” Eddie asks brightly, clapping his hands like he’s a camp counselor leading a nature expedition and not corralling a middle schooler and a peer he still totally hates, he swears, out into a hellscape.

Steve rolls his eyes, but dutifully swipes it all back into his pack after a cursory look.

Steve and Will follow him out of the trailer like ducklings, Eddie in the lead, and Steve maintaining the rear, keeping Will sandwiched in the middle in silent agreement.

They keep quiet. Eddie’s eyes skitter wildly about, and when he glances back, Steve is clutching the shotgun tightly. Clearly, he’s not the only one more on edge with a kid to keep alive now. In contrast, Will looks excited.

Eddie doesn’t know which is worse, that the kid trusts them that much to keep him safe, or that he’s so excited to talk to Mama Byers that he’s not fussed about the rest of it.

Eddie remembers the general direction of the Byers’ house. It’s a small town – there’s only so many places for people to live, but he still has to ask Will for directions a few times. Will tells him where to turn, both speaking quietly enough that Harrington only twitches a little in alarm from behind them.

Only once does Steve stop, the sound of him raising the shotgun the only indication Eddie receives that he’s stopped at all. His heart kicks up as he whirls around to see Steve standing, gun trained into the woods, like fucking always. It takes endless moments before Steve lowers his gun again, waving them along.

No one talks after that. Eddie looks at Will, and Will points. It works well enough.

The Byers house is a single level, short and small, but it’s got a front porch with chairs on it, and laundry on a clothesline. It would look homey without vines. And the sky. And the ash. And the everything about this place.

Still, they file through the unlocked front door. Eddie can almost feel the smack Uncle Wayne would land on his head for going into someone else’s house first, uninvited, but there’s no way he’s letting Will go first into a place the Demogorgon had been less than twenty-four hours before.

It's silent inside. Will pushes past him, rushing into the house and taking a left. Eddie and Steve follow, Steve still clutching the gun. They find him in a small, outdated kitchen. He’s picked up the phone.

“Mom?” he says. His voice breaks, and Eddie wants to grab him and hide him in Steve’s closet for the rest of the day. “Mom?”

They stand in silence for a minute, ears straining for the smallest sound. “Anything?” Steve asks, brow furrowed.

Will doesn’t answer, just presses the phone to his ear harder. “Mom?” His voice sounds wet. Eddie’s going to fucking murder Joyce Byers. “Mom, please.”

“Maybe we can try in a few minutes?” Eddie asks, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder.

Will puts the phone back into the receiver like it weighs a thousand pounds. “What if the Demogorgon got her?”

Scratch the murder threats, Munson. “She’s probably just out,” he says.

Will finally turns around, slowly. Reluctantly. His face is streaked with tears already. Eddie doesn’t fight the urge to wipe them off. His hands leave grimy streaks though, so he switches to the sleeve of his shirt.

Behind him, Steve is pacing down the hall, muttering quietly under his breath. He’s not concerned until the movement abruptly stops.

“Steve?” Eddie calls, still cradling Will’s face.

His steps start again, slow, and purposeful. “Come see this,” he says. He doesn’t sound scared. Shocked, maybe even awed, but not scared.

Eddie pats Will’s cheek before turning and making his way out of the kitchen. Steve Harrington is haloed in light. It’s white, and fluttering, and following every step he takes. He looks like a fallen angel – bloody and grimy, but heavenly still.

Eddie almost asks, “are you an angel?” because if there are monsters, then why not something good? But he doesn’t. Because as soon as he steps past the threshold, there’s a light above him. Holy. Beautiful.

“What is this?” Eddie asks.

“I don’t know,” Steve says, smiling up at the light hanging over him. Steve Harrington is entranced by the lights and Eddie Munson can’t take his eyes off him.

Will steps beside him, and lets out a little, “oh.” When Eddie glances his way, he’s not looking at the lights either. Eddie can’t blame him.

“Do you think it’s dangerous?” Steve asks, still too focused on the beauty of it to sound worried.

“It’s just—” Will starts. But he’s interrupted.

The voice sounds distorted, but not like the Demogorgon’s. It’s more like the sound is coming from far away. Like Nancy Wheeler’s voice. Like her friend’s.

“Will?” it calls. “Will, are you here?”

Well, looks like it’s time to meet Mama Byers. Eddie can’t wait.

Part 18

#steddie upsidedown au #steddie fic #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #my fic

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ecoamerica · 1 month

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youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

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khristie16 · 2 months

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All flavours

Summary: Each man possesses unique qualities that draw you in, making your journey both exhilarating and challenging

Warnings: smut, 18+, foursome, p in v, p in a, oral m receiving, dom!guys, submissive!reader, slight degradation, consensual

author’s note: one of my work redone

You appeared in a dire situation. You are between three men. Between three men you really liked. And every one of them was completely different.

Everyone brought something different to the table. It was exciting what a blossom of flavours you have experienced.

It all started at the paddock. You were lucky enough to be able to auction off the entry fee to the paddock for 5,000 euros. You have loved the formula since you were a child and wanted to fulfill your dream of standing so close to everything that you have only observed through the screen until now.

You were a Ferrari fan, but over time, Max won your heart too. You got used to him and started to like him as much.

The whole experience of that day was really normal, but then you appeared in the room. Locked. With these three.

You stood there, trapped in a trance, your senses dulled, your surroundings fading into insignificance compared to the overwhelming emotions coursing through your veins.

You remained, paralyzed by the intensity of your own emotions, unable to move or speak.

The trio stood shoulder to shoulder. Max, with his inscrutable expression, his stoic demeanor hinted at a storm brewing beneath the surface, leaving you with a sinking feeling that you had indeed messed up, and the consequences were about to hit you like a tidal wave.

Charles was smiling at you sweetly which calmed you down.

But Carlos, — you could feel the warmth that radiated from his body and you were incredibly attracted to him.

You swallowed.

"So, how do we do this?" Max's voice cut through the tension, prompting an exchange of glances between the boys.

As they deliberated, uncertainty gnawed at your insides, causing your hands to fidget nervously. You felt the urge to break the silence. But before you could speak, hesitation held your words captive until you moved.

"You know, I—"

“Pst pst pst cariño” Carlos pointed at you.

You stood in place, your mouth agape in stunned silence. Time seemed to stretch endlessly. Every muscle tensed, yet you remained immobilized, a silent observer trapped in the grip of disbelief.

"Hm, but a nice mouth that talks." Carlos winked at you.

The boys began to pace around you, their movements calculated and deliberate. What were they planning? The air grew thick with apprehension, suffocating you as the realization dawned that you. But with each passing moment, the circle tightened, trapping you in.

"Guys, please—" you began, your voice trembling, but Carlos cut you off with a commanding tone.

"Cariño!" his voice boomed, drowning out your plea.

Charles shot Carlos a cautionary glance, silently urging him to ease up. Then, with a gentler demeanor, Charles turned his attention to you.

"What's wrong, cherie?" his tone softer and more understanding.

You shifted your gaze from Max to Carlos and back again, uncertainty flickering in your eyes before settling on Charles.

"What's going on?" you asked, your voice tinged with confusion.

Max, already brimming with impatience took matters into his own hands.

"Come on, little one. We noticed you peeking at us," Max remarked, "Making eyes on us. And we like you too, so why not do something about it?”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of their scrutiny.

"Only if you want to, of course," Charles said kindly, his words offering a glimmer of reassurance amidst the tension.

You simply stared at him, your gaze locked onto his. Suddenly, Carlos leaned into your back. The heat emanated from him even more and he absolutely burned your skin with his touch. He lowered his head to whisper into your ear.

"Don't you want it, cariño?" he stroked your bare arm with his right hand.

A chill ran down your spine, but slowly, almost instinctively, you leaned your head against his chest. The warmth of his embrace enveloped you, offering a brief moment for you to breathe. Not for long, you gasped as Carlos grabbed your cunt.

"Darling, do you want it?" Charles asked, the words tumbling out in a rush as if he couldn't contain them any longer.

Confusion swirled in your mind, your senses feeling like they were submerged in hot water, overwhelmed by the intensity of the situation. You found yourself at a loss for words.

"Y/N, look me in the eyes. You are safe with me," Charles urged gently, his voice a comforting anchor.

Taking a deep breath, you finally met Charles's gaze, finding a genuine tenderness reflected in his eyes. With a silent nod, you conveyed your consent.

"Words, cariño," Carlos interjected, his touch soothing as he stroked your arms.

"Yes, I want it," you whispered, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

But before you could dwell on the feeling for too long, Max pounced on you, shattering the fragile moment of vulnerability with his sudden action.

His soft lips pressed against you, and with each kiss, he peeled away some layers. He took every breath of air from your lungs like the wind from sails. As he held you with his left hand, his strong grip around your neck left you helpless.

You placed your hands on his chest to create space, hoping to at least retain before he draines the breathing life out of you.

With each glance, the red of your skin deepened. Carlos chuckled, amused. Max let you go and you were able to turn to Carlos. Panting, you stared into his eyes.

"Strip." Max said.

The words cut through the tender atmosphere and you frantically started undressing, feeling ashamed and nervous for what came next.

Approval nods from Max gave you confidence in your beauty and Charles's gentle caressing of one cheek gave you a moment of comfort, romantic gestures that made you close your eyes.

As you opened them again, your eyes almost burst out of you head as you stared. Both of them were absolutely gorgeous, and just the thought of them being able for you to take advantage of their bodies made you salivate.

"Don't drool,'' when Charles laughed, you became even more overwhelmed to see them in full naked glory.

At that moment you lowered your eyes and looked at your palms. You noticed that Charles is still dressed. And you decided to act. You looked into his eyes and started undressing him. Charles grinned at you like he was proud of your reaction.

You were just on your knees when you had his erect cock in front of you.

Taking it carefully in your hands, your gaze was focused on him. Whether you could touch him or not, it was unclear; you wanted to, but at the same time, you felt like you shouldn’t. The tension between the two of you was heavy; there was a desire to touch, but also a fear of doing something you weren't supposed to.

He stroked your hair in return as a green light for you. Your fears and doubts dissolved away under the heat of the moment. The only thing that mattered now was the desire to touch, to suck him as best you could. The excitement of the moment made you lose yourself in the sensation. Only after a while did you realize that the boys were also around you, their presence an additional stimulation to the already palpable tension.

You left your mouth wrapped around Charles and reached out for both of them with each hand. You started riding up and down, taking your pace slow and taking it very sensually. The sounds of muffled and suppressed noises as they moan filled the air like a lullaby.

"I can't take it anymore," Max hissed "I'm taking her ass."

Hearing those words made you excited.

"I'm going to lie down and you're going to sit on me, okay cherie?" Charles told you.

Following Charles's commands, you strap his lap while he looked at you from below. Listening to his words without hesitating, you were already fully immersed in the moment and willing to do whatever pleases him without further ado.

By this time you were getting lost in those green eyes, Max stuck his fingers in you.

You gasped as he whispered in your ear and peck your cheek, "I'll borrow some," his warm breath brushing your skin made you feel dizzy and your heart beating faster.

You felt overwhelmed with emotions. The intensity of the moment made you choke back tears, and as Max started kissing and biting your neck, the sensation overwhelmed you more that you reached your hands into his hair, tugging lightly. Meanwhile, Charles's grip on your hips kept you steady, not letting you move too much.

"If she’s acting like this now, I don't know how she will make it to the end" Carlos said.

Hearing Carlos's words disturbed you, and the look of fear on your face reflected that. Suddenly, it was as if the whole world came to pause. Max and Charles waited patiently, both having a neutral facial expression.

Carlos walked over to you as he stroked your hair, the smile on his face made him seem more friendly and comforting.

With that, he asked, "Will you be a good girl right?" a question that made you hesitate and wonder what that really meant.

You nodded to Carlos's question, but with him kissing your forehead, you felt some sense of reassurance and comfort. You didn't quite know what he meant by 'till the end', but you trusted him and his gestures.

Charles focused on you, slowly directing you to sit on top of him. You took him in, taking it slow as you looked into his beautiful eyes, feeling yourself consumed by his gaze. The urge to obey took over as you felt yourself becoming lost inside the intimacy of the moment between the two of you.

You started to sob as time went on, feeling like the experience was too much for you. Charles waited a moment for you to get used to it, but before you actually could, he was pulling you down again.

The sensations were intense and overwhelming. You felt both panic and excitement as you felt Max trying to insert himself in you.

But you pulled away from him from the overwhelming sensation.

"Cariño, you said you would be a good girl."

His words filled you with both a sense of panic and excitement, as if he was reminding you of his power over you. He had brought you to this moment and he was the one setting the rules of it.

"I'm sorry."

Is all you could say at the moment, as the words of him were still ringing in your ears.

"Spread your cheeks honey." Max said sweetly.

Following his instruction to be a good girl, you went with the flow in that moment, feeling Charles's presence inside of you and Max slowly creeping into you. The sensation was new and intense, and it took some time before you could adjust to it. But once you did, all those feelings of excitement and lust escalated into you coming undone with a loud cry.

"So fucking tight." Max hissed.

Lost in pleasure and the high of the moment, you fell on Charles's chest, his presence inside of you creating an intense experience.

"Kiss Me." Charles told you.

Hearing his words, you looked up to him and saw him gazing at you intently. His gaze filled you with a jolt of energy and desire.

Raising your head to meet his lips, you let yourself be carried away by the kiss while Carlos’s wandering hand toyed with your clit.

The loud moans escaping you were a reflection of the overwhelming sensation of satisfaction you were experiencing. It all became too much, too intense, and too perfect. Max's grip on your hips kept you steady and you felt so good in his arms.

"Such a good girl." He rasped in your ear.

Charles grabbed you by your breasts and started thrusting into you from below.

You were coming for the second time with Carlos as he was handling himself while looking at the intense scene.

"Such a good girl." Max told you and Charles pinched your nipples.

Seeing the state that Charles had been brought to made you feel powerful. The color of his cheeks, his parted lips, and the pure passion in his eyes, unlike anything you had seen before, made you understand the immense pleasure he was experiencing, and the intense desire he had for you.

You felt him slowly buck under you, his cock starting to stretch and grow inside of you.

"Charles, cum in me."

The command you gave made Charles let out a loud moan, and to that Carlos laughed.

Carlos walked next to you and placed his hand on your face, turning it towards him, and locking your gaze onto his. His grip was firm, letting you know who was in charge.

He tapped your lips and you opened them up for him. He drove his cock into you.

You felt Max grow inside you and even with Carlos' cock in your mouth you screamed as Max bit your neck hard enough to silence his moans.

Charles was lost in the sensations, moaning and stuttering which made him unable to form any coherent words. His eyes were open and wide, filled with pure desire and pleasure watching you taking Carlos.

In the afterglow of the intense high that everyone was experiencing, you were all panting, the effects still lingering, making the whole moment seem even more real.

"We are very proud of you."

Hearing Charles's words and the gentle pinch on your cheek, you felt a warm, fuzzy feeling come over you.

“Shall we switch positions?”

Carlos's question brought you back to reality, and you nodded eagerly, eager to experience more.

#charles leclerc smut #carlos sainz smut #max verstappen smut #charles leclerc x you #carlos sainz x you

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lechemoon · 1 year

Text

the one where spencer reid doesn't want to be just your friend

spencer reid x f reader

wc: ~1.8k

prompt: "i don't want to be your friend. i want to fall in love with you."

no warnings apply, however if i miss any please let me know :) additionally, if someone is able to identify the prompt list that the prompt is from, i would appreciate it! i can't seem to find the list </3

a/n: still on my slow rewatch, i haven't finished season 5 but i know for a fact that long-haired jesus reid is coming to an end, so this fic is for him specifically hehe

spencer shuts his mouth immediately, and regrets ever having the ability to even speak at all. the way you’re looking at him makes him want to curl up into himself.

“that was rude. all i asked was if you wanted to grab lunch.” you stuff your phone in your pocket aggressively, about facing the opposite direction from him.

“wait, wait, wait.” he grabs you by the crook of your elbow, slightly yanking to keep you from walking away from him but not so much that you tip over and lose your balance. it’s now or never, and spencer will be damned if he lets you walk away without even trying to make you understand what he’s been trying to tell you.

you groan, and he hates that he can hear the frustration and confusion emitting from you. hates it because he knows how it feels- he’s been feeling it for months. along with this gnawing feeling in his stomach and a clawing feeling in his chest and an ache in his heart (but he’ll ignore that for now- he’s got things to do and words to say).

you move your free hand to run it through the top of your head, brushing any stray hairs from your face. you let out a quick breath from your mouth, and turn your head towards spencer. you make your body so that it’s still mostly facing away from him slightly. “what? you’re gonna explain why you’re suddenly just changing it up on me? being rude to me out of nowhere? if we can’t be friends right now then i don’t think there’s a reason for us to talk outside of work-“

“i don’t-!” he clears his throat because he doesn’t mean to raise his voice in the middle of the work day. his eyes scan the room quickly, and he finds himself thankful that most of the floor has gone out for lunch. those that are here still seem to have either not heard him or are choosing to ignore his outburst. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to shout… can we- can we talk somewhere more private?”

when you don’t show any signs of saying yes, he pulls out the big guns. releasing your arm, he takes hold of your hand instead. gently, unsure. his bottom lip juts out only slightly, just enough that he knows he’s sure you’ve seen it. and he’s sure, because your eyes land on his lips for a second. “please?”

“ugh, fine.” you shake your hand from his. “there’s no one in penelope’s office,” you say as you begin to walk in the direction of your coworker's office. you don’t bother looking back at spencer until your hand finds the door handle. “why are you still sitting? come on! i don’t have all day and i have to grab a snack after this.”

grabbing his bag and getting up from his chair, spencer makes his way (clumsily) to follow you out the door. “i can explain myself,” he says to your back while you both trek your way to penelope’s office.

he practically hears your eyes roll when you respond with, “i’m sure you can.” you turn left because you accidentally lead the both of you the wrong way, so now you’re taking the scenic route.

“i think we took the-“

“i know,” you cut him off, finally reaching penelope’s door. you open it and aren’t surprised you find it unlocked. neither of you are surprised to find that all the computer screens are locked as well. she wouldn’t be penelope if she didn’t secure her babies.

“okay, we have a few minutes before penelope enters her lair.” you turn to him, hands on your hips and tapping your foot impatiently. “well?”

it’s spencer’s turn to brush his fingers through his hair. he knew what he wanted to say before this- had a whole 20 second speech prepared that ended with a small lie of him not actually being hungry. why couldn’t he think of it now?

i’m sorry. I’m not hungry right now so i didn’t want to get sandwiches with you.

i didn’t mean to tell you to leave me alone like that, or use that tone of voice. or to call you nosey.

in fact, i don’t think i ever want you to leave me alone. i’d eat a hundred sandwiches if it meant spending lunch with you.

“spencer?”

when he takes a good look at you, he forgets everything he wanted to say. “u-uhm,” he bites his lower lip. “i-i’m sorry, i usually… i usually don’t forget what i want to say.” not a lie, not a truth. he has fragments of what he wants to say dangling in his brain, but no way to string them all together.

you smack your lips and cross your arms. “reid, really? you tell me to leave you alone, then you tell me to talk privately- why are you pulling my leg?”

it hits him when he remembers you saying if we cant be friends-

“i don’t want to be your friend,” he tells you directly, looking into your eyes. it takes everything in him not to break eye contact. it gets harder to not look away when you’re staring right back at him with eyes expectant. waiting. almost impatient looking.

and they change slightly. now he sees hurt, worry, sadness. your foot stops tapping. “you… you don’t want to be… friends?” you cross your arms, and spencer knows you’re getting defensive and closed-off. you’re getting ready to leave the room.

but his hands find your upper arms and slides down them, releasing you from your knot and landing at your wrist. he turns them upward, and rubs his thumbs against them in small circles. “i-i don’t want to be just your friend,” he says again, but with more intention.

now he sees something new in you- confusion, curiosity. “just my friend?”

“not just your friend,” he repeats. “I feel like… no. i think i-i want to… to fall in love with you,” he says finally, and his face feels hot and his throat feels dry.

shit, he thinks, that’s not what i was going to say. i didn’t mean to say love! like would have sufficed just fine!

what he should have said was that he liked you more than he would any other person, that you made him feel like he was floating or that he was flying.

spencer feels his stomach drop when you don’t respond to him right away, and he lets his hands begin to fall from your wrist. “that came out wr-“

but you grab his hands into your own before physical contact can even break. “you what?”

“i mean- i did want to be your friend, i do want to be your friend it’s just that i,” he doesn’t know where his sentence is leading but he knows that he wants you to know that wanting to be with you wasn’t his intention at first. “i think… i think you’re great. you’re smart and you’re pretty, and sometimes i notice that you match your socks to your blouse- why are you looking at me like that?”

you're biting your bottom lip to hold back your smile, but the sparkle in your eyes and the crinkle at the corners give you away. you’re happy- nervous, but happy. at least, that’s what spencer speculates when he takes a look at you.

“i feel like i should be mad at you,” you admit, letting go of his hands so that you can rub yours together. penelope’s cave is cold. “liking someone isn’t an excuse to snap at them the way you did to me earlier.”

“i know, and i’m so sorry-“

you cut him off again. “let me finish.” and his lips shut.

not knowing what to do with his now vacant hands, he stuffs them in his pockets and fingers the lint that has made its way into them.

“do you know why i ask you out for lunch all the time?” you ask him, pointing one of your index fingers to his chest.

spencer shakes his head. “because you… like the company and camaraderie?”

“i like your company,” the finger against his chest pushes in slightly, and you take a step back so you don’t have to continue to crane your neck at a weird angle to look up at him. “i like you.”

a confession, spencer thinks to himself, wasn’t on his list of things he expected to happen today. “me?” in attempts to keep a grin from forming, he purses his lips together. it doesn’t help, because now he’s grinning with his teeth in full display.

he tilts his head to the side in disbelief. “r-really?”

“yes, really!” a new third party squeals excitedly from behind.

both you and spencer bring your attention towards the door. spencer shouldn’t be surprised to find penelope in her own doorway, but he is. and so it seems are you.

penelope dances in, doing a happy little shake as she prances past the two of you to set her things and then herself down. neither of your eyes leave her as she settles herself in. spencer feels like his eyes are as wide as they can possibly be and he wonders if you’re feeling the same way, because when he looks at you he thinks that he’s sporting the same look of a deer caught in the headlights.

no one says anything. only the sound of a pastry being released from it’s parchment prison by penelope fills the room until you finally say, “how long have you been standing there?”

the tech beauty of the team rips a piece of her danish to pop it in her mouth and chews on it for a few seconds, exhaling happily when the taste finally hits her tongue. she swallows before she give you her answer. “i’ve been here since…,” she checks her naked wrist as if she were checking the time, and then looks up to smirk at spencer, “since the boy genius said he wanted to- what was it again, dr. reid?”

taken aback by being thrown into the conversation so suddenly, spencer stumbles on his words. “u-uhm, i uh, i said i-”

“ah that’s right,” penelope smiles, setting her pastry down and dusting her hands off. “you said you would like to fall in love with our dear friend here?” she points to you and winks.

if spencer’s eyes could get any wider and if his face could find a darker shade of pink he knows they would.

“so,” penelope crosses her legs and leans back in her chair. her eyes haven’t left you, and spencer is thankful that he doesn’t have to face the intensity he sees in penelope. “i see your dream’s coming true, love bug,” she says to you, and spencer sees you bite your thumbnail to try and hide your smile.

you finally look at spencer, and he feels his stomach flutter. “i really, really like you spencer,” you say to him to finish off your interrupted conversation.

“oh yeah,” penelope adds, nodding excitedly, “she really does, doctor.”

a/n: thank you for reading <3

#spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #my fic #mgg #matthew gray gubler

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fieldofdaisiies · 2 months

Text

Midnight Queen II

paring: Azriel x Reader | type: fluff | words: 2,4k | warnings: none; for @starfallweek, thank you so much for organising this great event💛

A low, guttural groan leaves Azriel as his tongue glides over the salty skin of your chest. His lips close over the puckered skin of your breasts and he nibbles lightly, his scarred hand fondling your other breast, giving it just as much attention. Azriel purrs against your skin, as he drinks in your scent. Then he lifts his lips of your skin.

“Celebrate Starfall with me.”

He doesn’t pose it as a question - no, it’s an invitation.

An invitation that overwhelms you. Your body freezes and Azriel notices your reaction, stopping his actions as well.

He pushes up on his arm, regarding you from above, two scarred fingers tracing a line down between your breasts down to your belly button.

“I want to have you by my side on Starfall. I want to celebrate it with you.”

You want this too, you want to spend every minute of every day with him, but Starfall with Azriel and his family, the High Lord and Lady, that seems too much. You are a no one, your job…not the best, what would they think of you?

This sudden self-consciousness gnaws on you and you hate it. You have never felt bed about your job, but also mostly because you stayed in your circle. Meeting the High Lady and High Lord is something grand…something you are not really sure you are ready for.

“I can’t,” you whisper. You want to leave the bed, and hide in the bathroom only to not see the look on his face, the pain and disappointment flashing brightly within his hazel eyes.

“Why can’t you?” Azriel’s voice is equally silent and he lets his head drop, forehead resting against yours. “And don’t tell me you it is because you won’t get the day off — I could always book your for a whole day and the problem would be solved.”

“Az,” you tip your chin up, nipping at his lower lip while simultaneously dragging your fingertips over his cheek. “I work in a pleasure hall, I can’t possibly spend Starfall with you and then High Lord and Lady. That wouldn’t be proper.”

It really wouldn’t be. You are not ashamed of your profession, never have been, never will be - it is the path you have chosen a long time ago and you don’t regret it. But still, the High Lord and Lady are on a different level and you will be extremely superior to them. What will they think of you? And wouldn’t they want someone else for Azriel? Someone better.

“What wouldn’t that be proper?” Azriel kisses your collarbone.

“We aren’t official, or anything.” You meet his gaze and stroke your fingertips down the side of his face. “I‘m just—”

“Mine!” Azriel’s voice drops at least an octave and he leans in. “Haven’t I made it clear that you are mine, sweetheart?”

He nips at your lower lip and when no answer follows, he continues. “Official or not, you are mine. And I would love to spend Starfall with you. And Solstice and basically just every day. I want to wake up with you, see your smile every moment of my life. Kiss and touch you whenever I want. I love being with you, it makes me feel complete and wonderful.”

You audibly gasp, tears lining your eyes. “Was this a love declaration?”

“Would you like it to be a love declaration?” He smirks a little, and hope sparks within his hazel eyes. You want to blurt “yes!” but you hold back. Scared somehow of what it means. Of course, you have fallen for him as well, but…

You have never really been in love before. Never been in a relationship, mostly due to your job. You would give it up for Azriel, but how to earn money then, how to escape this place?

And does he truly mean it? Does he really mean it?

His damp lips coast over your neck, down to your shoulder, kissing your skin there. “Hm?”

“I like you Azriel.” His lips curl against your skin and then he tips his head back, dark hair shifting with the movement. He gives you a look that speaks volumes.

“I like you a lot, Azriel.”

He lies back on the mattress and crosses his arms behind his head, waiting.

You draw in a deep inhale, and decide to put the cards on the table. You like him, and for the first time in your life you allow yourself to like a male that much. You want a future with him, escape this place and live with him.

“In all honesty, I think I am falling in love with you and so yes, I would like it to be a love declaration.”

A grin spreads over his face when you turn to look at him. “It definitely was a love declaration.” He reaches out his hand and brushes his scarred thumb over your cheek.

“You are perfect,” he mumbles after a short moment of admiring you. Then he pushes up on his elbow, pulling your face to him, chasing your lips.

Your lips are made for one another, melting against each other when you deepen the kiss, hands sliding over Azriel’s strong shoulders, feeling all the hard muscles of his back beneath your palms.

“Come to Starfall with me,” he mumbles into the kiss, rolling you onto your back. His lips slide down to your neck. “Say yes.”

You feel how his teeth softly sink into your skin, and well, now, the answer comes as clear as water. “Yes.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“Welcome to the House of Wind.” Azriel removes his hands from your eyes, letting you take in the whole city bathed in soft faelight and the stars in the sky above.

Your mouth falls open, having never seen the beauty of the city from above. It is incredible and you don’t even know where to look first. You’ve always thought the Night Court was beautiful, but now you are truly reminded of its beauty.

“It is beautiful,” you whisper, eyes glistening. Azriel smiles brightly, a rare thing you have come to realise, and says, “You must be talking about yourself.”

That makes you blush furiously and you turn away with a giggle, focusing once more on the star-lit city below.

Azriel steps into you, his front against your back, chin resting atop your shoulder. His strong arms naturally curl around your waist, around the glittery dress, until your bodies meld together. “I‘m so happy you came. Thank you for following my invitation.”

You slide your hands over his, letting them rest there. “Thank you for inviting me.” You tip your head back until you feel his hard pectorals and then you relax, in his arms. “No one has ever done something like this for me.”

There was no chance that you wouldn’t have to work tonight - your boss said that it is the night that brings the most money. So, what Azriel did was that he booked you for the whole night and day that follows. You couldn’t be more thankful, tears clouding your eyes solely by thinking about it.

“I am glad I came here.” You turn your head a little, so you can look up at him. He is already looking at you, silently admiring how the moon’s light falls upon your face. “It feels so good.”

Azriel leans in and kisses the top of your head. “It feels right.”

It truly does. Being with him always feels good and right. Almost like you are two halves of the same coin and only perfect when together. Being with him has brought you so much joy, more joy than you have felt in all the four centuries of your life.

“You make everything feel right.” Azriel squeezes you to him and tears appear in your eyes. He makes you feel so seen, so valued, your throat constricts with the emotions bubbling up inside of you. You have never felt like this.

“I would like you to meet my family now.”

It obviously is unavoidable but in all honesty, you are really ready to meet them. You really want to meet them. There is a chance for something more between you and Azriel, for something big and his family is part of his life, so you are ready to discover yet another part of him. You have already learned the story about his hands and his past and childhood and you were more than willing to avenge him, but Azriel told you that everything had already been taken care of.

“I would love to meet them.” You turn in his arms and place your hands on his chest, looking up at him, into his beautiful eyes.

No conversation passes between you before he leans down to claim your lips and kiss you. Not in the hungry way he usually does when he comes to see you, but soft and gentle. It is just a peck and nothing more but it makes your knees wobbly and your heart race.

“Az,” you breathe and chase his lips once again, kissing him a little deeper but still softly, smiling against his mouth. “I love kissing you.”

“I love kissing you.” Azriel laughs and it is the most beautiful sound you have ever heard in your entire life.

He pulls you closer to him, kissing you once again. “And I love seeing you smile, and hearing you laugh.” He kisses your cheek and then his head drops and his lips find the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. “And making you moan and scream out my name.”

“Az!” you laugh, arms wrapping around his neck to keep him close.

“Let’s meet my family now, before I might haul you away so I can hear exactly those noises.” He pulls away and you shake your head at him, tsking. “Always so needy.”

He grins and his hand drops, smacking your backside lightly. “For you, always.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

The general, as Azriel introduced, flares his wings and grins at you. “Cassian,” he says in a loud, welcoming voice.

“Y/N, pleasure to meet you.” The large Illyrian shakes your hand and then pulls you to him, laughing.

“It’s my pleasure to meet you. Thank the Mother, Azzy has found you. I‘m incredibly happy for thy both of you.”

You are introduced to most of thd other people like Gwyn the priestess or Nesta who is Cassian‘s mate, hugging them and shaking their hands but the words of Azriel’s best friend stick with you.

Thank the Mother Azzy has found you.

Lastly, it is the High Lord and Lady that come forward and introduce themselves to you. You are shaking a little, never having made an acquaintance with them before or having met someone with that much power.

But they immediately make you feel comfortable, welcoming you warmly within the family.

“We are very happy you are here,” Feyre, High Lady of the Night Court, tells you with a bright smile on her face, holding a little boy in her arms. He babbles some things you guess are words of welcome and it warms your heart. Being here does.

It is so wonderful and you will never be able to thank Azriel enough for inviting you to come here and spend Starfall with him. For the past centuries, Starfall has been like any other day for you, but this year it is something special. Something you will never forget. Something you will forever keep in your heart and mind.

You all eat together, sitting around a large table, chatting and laughing together as a family and once again you feel close to tears. It is almost like Azriel senses your overwhelming emotions (his shadows told him) and he slides his hand over your thigh, squeezing softly and you place your hand atop his.

The shadowsinger’s voice is barely above a whisper when he says, “Are you alright?”

“More than alright.” You lean in and kiss his cheek. “I have never been so happy.” And you mean it. Whenever you are with him, you only feel happiness. Everything that has been on your mind before, fades into insignificance and then there is just Azriel. And you. And whatever is between you.

You stay inside for a little longer, until you finally follow the beckonings of travelling spirits, going outside onto a large balcony, fully mesmerised by the beauty that is presented to you.

“Azriel…” you whisper. “Before I thought the view was pretty, but I have not at all been prepared for this. Colour, twinkling stars wherever you look, blazing across the dark night sky.

You don’t remember much about Starfall from your child and teen years, and in the years, centuries that followed you have always worked on this day.

A slight feeling of remorse settles into your gut, for having missed the beauty of this night for so long.

Azriel wraps his arms around you from behind, chin resting atop your shoulder. “Make a wish.”

You turn your head and kiss his cheek. “No,” you whisper. “I have no wish. Everything is perfect now that I am here with you.”

A slight shudder courses through the shadowsinger’s body and he holds you just a little tighter.

More spirits start to blaze above your heads, illuminating the night. Azriel’s family is dancing, chatting, singing and drinking, but you and Azriel stay at the railing of the balcony, staring up at the sky, relishing the other‘s closeness, the warmth and presence.

A spirit hits you, and after the slight shock has faded, you can only laugh, seeing how your skin twinkles. It also splattered a bit across your face, and when Azriel turns you to him and kisses you, the sparkly colours also grace his tanned skin.

He cradles your face in his hands and grins, from one ear to the other. His shadows curl around your arms and waist, bringing you in closer again.

“You truly are my midnight queen.” Azriel’s gaze wanders over your face and his lips part. You are stunning, and absolutely breathtaking, with the bit of stardust on your face and the travelling spirits reflecting in your eyes. “And I love you.”

tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii @nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @aroseinvelaris @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22 @valeridarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @topaz125 @illyrian-dreamer @azriels-mate123 @eos-princess @courtofjurdan @a-frog-with-a-laptop @insufferablebookaddict @callmeblaire

#azriel x reader #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar #acosf

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slutforsilverfoxes · 9 months

Text

Howlin' for You

[A/N: Highly recommend listening to “Not Afraid Anymore” from Fifty Shades Darker while reading what’s under the cut 😘 Enjoy, my fellow Hotch sluts 😈🖤]

“Oracle of Quantico,” Penelope’s voices rings out clearly through the car, “speak and be heard.”

“Hey, baby girl,” Derek croons from his spot next to you in the driver’s seat, and you chime in, “Hi, Pen! Can you do some digging for me?”

“Can I- Y/N Y/L/N,” she admonishes playfully, and you share a knowing smile with Derek. “How long have you been with this team now? You know I’m a digital shovel. Give me a name, date, or a hint of nefarious activity, and I shall reveal all, my love.”

“It’s, uh, the local sheriff,” you confess through a grimace. “Wilson. Who invited us in. I think he’s involved with the sole witness we can’t seem to find. So don’t send anything to their office, just call us or Hotch, okay?”

“Oh, you smart little cookie, you’ve got it. PG out.”

Derek shakes his head before flicking on the turn signal and pulling over at the newest crime scene. “You’re sure about the picture you saw, Y/L/N?”

“No doubt,” you assure him. “I just need Garcia to find me proof that he can’t deny.”

“If it’s there to be found, she’ll find it,” he answers, turning the Suburban off and pausing with his fingers tucked into the car door handle. “But these small town cops are just gonna hate us even more once we prove your theory right.”

“Oh no,” you deadpan, “however will we go on without their respect and admiration?” You hop out of the SUV, not missing the way Derek rolls his eyes before following you across the lawn to grab a pair of gloves from the forensics team and head inside the latest victim’s house.

Several minutes later, you’re examining the contents of the shelves in the living room when your phone rings, and Penelope animatedly confirms what you suspected earlier today. You enter the bedroom where Hotch is analyzing the scene with a critical eye and gently grasp his elbow to guide him away from the primary crime scene- and earshot of Sheriff Wilson.

“What is it?” he murmurs softly, resisting the urge to pluck your bottom lip out from where your teeth are nervously gnawing on it, keenly aware of the local law enforcement’s prying eyes. When you don’t respond immediately, he prompts, “Y/N?”

“Pen and I found something,” you answer. “And you’re not gonna like it.”

You share the information with Aaron in hushed tones, and his brow grows more furrowed the longer you talk. When you finish with a deep breath, he turns on his heel to chew out the officer, but looks back at you before walking away. Taking a quick peek around to make sure you’re alone, he pecks your lips and commends your intuition with a soft smile.

If you had a tail, it would be wagging right about now.

“I don’t have to listen to this!” Sheriff Wilson explodes out of the bedroom, Hotch hot on his heels as they head toward the front yard. You follow after, fingers twitching at your side and ready to draw your gun when you see other officers taking an interest in their heated conversation, fiery eyes set on your boss- but more importantly in this moment, the man you love.

“Everybody just take it easy,” you counsel, grateful when you feel Derek’s solid form now pressing against your arm. Hotch meets the sheriff’s ire with an eerie calm, speaking too low for you to hear. An eerie calm, that is, until Wilson says something clearly so egregious that Aaron barks, “Get off my crime scene, Sheriff, before I have you charged with obstruction of justice.”

The entire neighborhood seems to fall silent; the birds cease chirping, the wind stops rustling through the trees, the local officers slink away from the altercation, and the sheriff opens his mouth to respond, but no words form on his stunned lips. He stalks off to his police cruiser in a huff, and Aaron turns back to instruct Derek to follow him and find out where the witness is.

You, on the other hand, are frozen in place, in awe of the raw power and authority emanating from your imposing man. Your erratic heartbeat thrums between your legs, and if you had even a shred less of self-respect, you would fall to your knees right now to worship Aaron like he deserves.

Instead, you swallow down the saliva pooling in your mouth at the phantom taste of him on your tongue and follow him back into the house to continue cataloguing the crime scene.

Your hunger will have to wait.

—————

“Fuck, I’m so glad to be leaving this town tomorrow,” Aaron confesses as the hotel room door clicks shut behind you. He turns to find you blindly following him further into the room, a vacant expression on your face, though your eyes track his every move. “Honey, what is it?” His brows draw together in concern while he tugs at his tie. You watch his fingers work their way into the knot to undo it, and your tongue darts out to wet your lips while the embers that’ve been burning in your lower belly for days flare to life. “Honey?” Aaron tries again, genuinely growing worried now. “Do you feel sick? Or did one of those assholes say something to you to get back at me? Just tell me what’s wrong and I’ll-”

“No, Aaron,” you finally blurt out. “I’m just- I need you,” you confess softly, wringing your hands.

He cocks an eyebrow, and you know immediately that he understands your meaning but is choosing to toy with you now. “I’m right here, sweetheart.”

“No, Aaron,” you repeat, more forcefully this time. “I need you.” Finally, after days of suppressing your desire, you snap and push him to sit on the edge of the bed so you can straddle his lap, a soft gasp escaping your parted lips when your skirt rides up enough to let you feel the heat of him through your already wet panties. You start grinding on him in earnest, rocking your hips against the zipper of his slacks in search of some kind of reprieve from the persistent ache between your legs. It’s not enough, and you tell him as much amid a whine.

“Oh god,” you keen breathily, “oh fuck, I need more.” His tie already loosened, you tug the loop of fabric over his head and toss it behind you, then pop open the top few buttons of his shirt and mouth hungrily at his chest, moaning at the salt on his skin from chasing down the unsub earlier. You suck a few possessive marks into his skin, whimpering at the feeling of him growing hard beneath you from your repetitive motions, and slide your hands into his hair for a better grip.

Then you feel Aaron’s strong hand on the nape of your neck, pulling you back and forcing you to detach your swollen lips from his chest, now marred with teeth marks from your desperation. He tucks his index finger under your chin and lifts your head up to find tears welling in your eyes and your bottom lip trembling. “Why are you pouting, sweet girl?” The condescension in his tone and the weight of the power he holds over you sends another wave of arousal pooling between your already slick thighs. “Are you feeling empty?”

You blink slowly, and traitorous tears roll down your cheeks when you drop your head into a nod with a pathetic sniffle. He takes pity on you and slides his thumb into your mouth, allowing you to suck on it and gratefully swirl your tongue around the thick digit as you start grinding on him again. Then he runs his thumb down your chin leaving a cooling trail of your own spit on your heated skin before dipping his hand under your skirt to press his thumb against the embarrassingly wet spot on your panties. Your head falls back and your mouth drops open, but no sound comes out as your brain short circuits. You’re practically vibrating at this point, so utterly desperate for him, and he laughs darkly at your need which only serves to turn you on even more. “How long have you been thinking about this, hm?”

“Since-” You swallow down the saliva flooding your mouth before mustering up the resolve to continue. “Since you yelled at the sheriff,” you confess softly, and he chuckles again.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Aaron tuts. “That was days ago.”

You let out a startled squeak when he roughly grabs your hips and deposits you on the bed without warning. His large hands tuck into the dip of your shirt and then he’s ripping it open, buttons flying in all directions. He flips you over with no semblance of tenderness and you let out a gasp, one of his hands unclasping your bra while the other tugs down the zipper at the back of your pencil skirt.

Suddenly you’re on your back again, and within the span of a few seconds you’re laid bare before a fully clothed Aaron, sans tie and the few buttons of his shirt you managed to fumble open earlier. You stare up at his towering figure in awe, your breath coming in short pants that match the heaving of his chest, the only sign that he’s as turned on as you are.

Then he’s undoing his belt buckle, and your walls flutter at the thought of what’s coming next. “Yes, oh yes, please, please, please,” you beg breathily, squeezing your eyes shut and fisting the sheets at the telltale sound of Aaron’s zipper opening.

He slides his cock through your folds to gather your wetness then presses just the tip in, and you release a downright pornographic moan at the sensation. Aaron ever so gently rests his hand on your throat and squeezes once to get your attention, waiting for your bleary eyes to focus on his face before shushing you softly. “Everyone’s rooms are nearby and they need to rest, so you have to be quiet, okay, angel? Can you do that for me?”

Somewhere in the back of your fuzzy brain, you realize he didn’t say anything about caring if your team can hear how much pleasure he wrings out of you. He just wants to ensure your friends can get their much needed sleep after a trying case.

But then you hone in on the throbbing between your legs again, and you remember he’s waiting for an answer. You’re so desperate for him to be inside you that you’d say yes to anything he asked right now, so you nod vigorously, biting down on your lip and squeezing your eyes shut once more. He smiles proudly and says, “That’s my good girl.” Aaron presses his other hand to your lower belly and finally, finally slides into you agonizingly slowly while reverently professing, “You look so good when you’re full of me.”

You’re helpless to do anything but nod again because he’s right, of course he’s right. This is when you feel the most beautiful, feel entirely whole and complete, when you’re being worshipped by and getting to worship Aaron Hotchner.

You let out a whimper that your partner intuits as a plea for him to move, and he begins slowly thrusting in and out of your wet heat, the hand on your stomach keeping you keenly aware of just how big he is with each drive of his hips. Aaron squeezes your throat gently, and somewhere in the back of your mind you know that means he wants your eyes on him. You lift your heavy-lidded gaze to his, weighed down by lust and love, to find him watching your every micro-expression and easily reading your reactions. He can feel what angle, what speed, what pressure makes your body sing, and he hits all the right spots as he gradually picks up his pace. The bite of his metal belt buckle against the back of your thigh with each roll of his hips reminds you that he’s still fully dressed while you’re stark naked and completely at his mercy, and the power dynamic has you clenching around him, doing everything you can to be as close to him as possible.

By this point, you’re a hiccuping, crying, desperate mess, and when Aaron releases his hold on your throat to grip your hip instead, you choke out a plea of, “Harder.”

“More, baby?” he asks between pants, and you whimper, “Please, daddy, please.”

Aaron lifts your ankle onto his shoulder to get an even deeper angle, pressing his hand down more forcefully against your stomach so he can feel himself moving inside of you with every thrust. He picks up speed until you can’t even cry his name anymore, just little gasps knocking out of you each time his hips meet yours.

Seeking better leverage, he pauses his worship of your body to slide you higher up on the bed so he can brace himself against the wall with his right arm. The change in angle and power of his thrusts has you seeing stars, your hands fisting in his hair in an attempt to anchor yourself to the real world. “My good girl,” he punctuates each word with a hard thrust, a sheen of sweat coating his forehead and a few errant strands of hair falling into his face.

You can’t say anything back, rendered dumbstruck by his expert ministrations, so Aaron carries on with his adoration. “In the field and in my bed, hm? My good little girl. All mine.”

His words are getting breathier by the minute, morphing into whimpers of pleasure that mimic your own, and you start crying harder knowing he’s about to really fill you up. He leans down to lick your tears off your cheeks and you shudder underneath him, raking your nails down his back and clinging to him for dear life.

When you feel his thick cock twitch inside of you, you start babbling, “Yes, yes, yes, give it to me, daddy. Please, oh god, please fucking breed me.” Your desperate command turns out to be Aaron’s undoing, and the feeling of him painting your walls with a surprised gasp has you clamping down around him, every nerve in your body firing at once as an indescribable orgasm rips through you. Despite the muscles in his legs spasming, Aaron continues fucking you through it, evidently trying to make good on your request.

Spent and satiated, Aaron eases out of you, giving you a quick cleanup and shedding himself of his clothes before climbing into bed to help you back down to earth. He pulls you into his lap and dries your tears, dotting gentle kisses along your cheeks, neck, and shoulders. You wrap your limbs around his body, clinging to him, and Aaron rubs your back until you calm down and your hiccups subside to deep breaths instead.

Ever so quietly, he asks, “Better, my baby?” You nod your head where it’s resting in the crook of his neck and murmur, “Thank you, Aaron. I needed that. Needed you so badly.”

“Anything you need, princess, you know that.” There's a thoughtful pause and then, “We’ll talk about that… new thing later. After a good night’s rest.” You’re grateful he turned off the light before getting into bed because a blush warms your cheeks at the memory. Even though he can’t see your face, he knows you’re getting shy and emits a soft laugh. “If you couldn’t tell, I loved it,” Aaron reassures you, then presses his lips to your temple.

He settles back into the bed with you in his arms, running his fingers through your hair to further calm your breathing. “Now get some sleep,” he orders gently. “If you really want me to make you a mama, you need to rest before we practice again tomorrow morning.”

—————

AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner

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