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#so um. reblog please :hands:
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finally settling once and for all... with the evidence laid out plainly.. which of these brother boys is more stinkys ,,,
#also please for the love of gourd do not take this seriously i am joking I do not hold any of these behaviors against my cats I know that#all cats are a little stinky and weird I have had cats all of my life I am not genuinely condemning my cats i am being silly please lol#(some of my goofy cat posts in the past will always get like.. one or two people taking an issue with something incredibly#mundane. like me saying a cat is being rude or somehting and someone being like 'um actually cats cant process the concept of#rudeness. he has no idea he did anything wrong!' ........ yes...... i am aware.. that my cat has the brain of a cat lol#ANYWAY.... polls!!! so excited to have polls.. I will try not to be annoyig but I just love asking random things to the general#public. in friend groups I am always the one asking people to taking surveys. quizzes. making surveys and handing them out. etc.#the rare times I can partially overcome my social anhedonia/inability to socially function properly/etc. is when I'm interviewing people or#socializing specifically in the context of like Information Gathering lol#I love running questionairres and stuff . even about the most mundane pointless topics. there's just soemthing really interesting#about like....... being able to ask people stuff and then look at and analyze the results.#Even though that's an incredibly simple average thing. idk.. my brain loves information even if it's pointless silly information.#I Just Think It's Neat. I have so so sos os oso many ideas but I wanted to make the first poll about my cats#of course because I'm also obsessed with them lol. I was thinking of taking some of the pictures of them in front of a blank#canvas and doing a poll of 'what are they painting?' or 'what should they paint?' but I decided to go with babey crimes#for now. inspired by various baby crimes committed just this morning. Fresh on my mind..#I wish they had a middle option though between '1 day' and '1 week'. I think a week is too long for a poll like this but also#one day is not long enough because I dont really have THAT many active followers. if it was just a day it would probably reach like 5 poepl#people. I want to at least be able to reblog it a few times maybe. lol#I think 3-4 days would be ideal. Its a new feature though. I'm sure they'll modify things as time goes on.#Still feeling sick and bad and weird and not being that productive at all generally but... I have just enough energy stores..#using up every ounce of my power to make a goofy poll... a worthy sacrifice....
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graham--folger · 2 years
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hi um,, i don't know if anyone who follows me cares about moon knight, but um,,, this show,,,, holy fuck
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daisynik7 · 8 months
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[M4F] Husband Catches You Listening to Audio P*rn, Teaches You a Lesson [Soft Mdom] [Established Relationship] [Mild Degradation] [Praise] [Overstimulation] [Multiple Orgasms] [Creampie]
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Pairing: husband!Nanami x f!reader
Word Count: ~2.6k
cw: established relationship, p*rn no plot, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl), sex toys, mutual masturbation, fingering, cunnilingus, sex without a condom, creampie, overstimulation, soft dom!Nanami, breeding kink, mild degradation (use of slut and whore), praise, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, pet names (honey, sweetie, sweetheart, princess, baby)
Summary: Nanami comes home early from his business trip and catches you doing something naughty in your bedroom. Author’s Note: Inspired by all the audio porn VAs that I listen to! Special shoutout to @mrsackermannx for raving about AugustInTheWinter with me. If you have not listened to him yet, PLEASE check him out, he’s incredible. Also, I’m clearly very delulu for Nanami currently, considering this is the third piece I’ve written for him within a week, but hey, this is my outlet! So I hope you enjoy! MDNI divider created by @/cafekitsune. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thank you for reading!
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Your skin is sweltering against the sheets, sweat damp on your forehead and neck. Thighs are apart, vibrator buzzing on your clit, sleek with lube and arousal. You’re home alone; Nanami doesn’t return until tomorrow morning. Still, the thought of the audio porn playing on speaker makes you shy, so you have both earbuds in, listening to the sultry tones of your favorite voice actor moaning expletives directly into your ear. Such a good girl, oh fuck. You feel so good, sweetheart. Take that cock for me. You are so fucking tight, holy shit. The added sound effects of thwapping and wet squelches in the background immerse you into a state of erotic bliss, gushing for the second time tonight from the sensation of the toy pulsing on your throbbing bud.
“What do we have here?”
You jolt up when you hear your husband’s voice from the doorway, startled to see him standing there, leaning against the frame with a serious look on his face. His spectacles are on, covering his eyes, which you can tell are boring into you in this lewd position. 
Popping your headphones off, you hide the vibrator under the pillow, as if he hasn’t already caught you red-handed. Closing your legs, you bat your eyelashes, feigning an innocent expression. “Honey! What are you doing here?” More heat rushes into your cheeks, scorching hot from your recent orgasm and current embarrassment.  
He steps forward, sitting at the far edge of the bed, avoiding your gaze by staring at the floor, acting disappointed. “I managed to catch an earlier flight. Wanted to surprise you.” Dramatic, he turns to face you, eyes narrowed through his tinted lenses. “It appears that I am the one being surprised.” 
Biting your lip to hold back your laughter, you crawl towards him, naked from the waist down, your panties discarded on the floor near his feet. He’s not actually upset; having been together long enough and in tune with each other’s emotions, you can tell that he isn’t seriously mad at you. This is a role he indulges in occasionally: stoic, strict husband with a mean streak when things don’t go his way. And you know exactly where this will lead to, so naturally, you play along. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I didn’t think you would be coming home tonight. I just thought I’d have a little bit of fun.” You massage his shoulders, nuzzling your face to his nape, giving him a loud smooch. 
He shifts around in the bed, confronting you. “What were you listening to?” There’s legitimate curiosity in his voice, and now genuine guilt builds in your chest upon his question. 
You swallow hard, anxious to admit the truth, too ashamed to lie to him. “Um, I was listening to porn. Audio porn.”
He raises a brow at you, confused. Then, he says, “Let me hear it.”
Reluctantly, you reach for your phone on the nightstand, resuming from where you paused. Wet slaps blare through the speaker, then a man’s voice, moaning, “Ah fuck, let me hear you. Let me hear you moan on my cock. Let me hear you take this cock. Yeah, like that baby, take it just like that.” 
You bury your head in your hands, absolutely mortified as the pornographic dialogue continues. The audio comes to a halt when Nanami stops it, silently tapping at the screen. You’re still hiding in disgrace, squeezing your legs together tightly to conceal the evidence of your supposed sin. The tension is palpable, with neither of you speaking or making any sudden movements. You’re dying to know what he’s thinking, simultaneously terrified of his judgement. 
He clears his throat; you peek through your fingers to catch him loosening his tie around his collar, removing the glasses from his face. He’s blushing, brows tight with contemplation. “Did you come to this?” he asks, almost breathless. 
You lower your hands, fisting them into the sheets beneath you, nodding. Anticipating. 
“Show me,” he demands, eyes at your lap. Too eagerly do you spread your legs, displaying your sopping cunt to him, staring at his lips part slightly, a barely audible growl resounding within his throat. Your uneasiness gradually slips into arousal, aching to be touched, even punished, by your formidable husband. He bows, licking his mouth, inspecting you like prey he’s about to devour. Flicking his eyes to yours, he mutters, “You’re a dirty slut for listening to this filth. Have you no shame?” He kneels before you, unbuttoning his dress shirt, exposing the white tee underneath. Chiseled chest and abs carved into the fabric like fucking marble. 
Losing composure, you blurt out, “No shame, absolutely none. I’m fucking filthy.” Your pussy aches, toes clenched, thrilled. 
“I can’t stand you listening to another man’s voice while you get off. It makes me sick thinking about it. Makes my blood fucking boil.” His tone is menacing in way that titillates every inch of your skin, has you shuddering from the low growl at the end of each sentence. 
“Are you going to punish me?” you goad, saliva collecting on your tongue, heavy with lust.
“I can think of something better.” Reaching for your phone, he navigates through it, finding your voice recorder app. He taps on the big red button, setting it beside you. “From now on, you only come to my voice. Got it?”
You swallow hard, almost chocking on your spit when you respond, “Yes. Yes, baby.”
He grins, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he cups your cheek tenderly. “Good girl.” His thumb traces the outline of your parted lips, your mouth inviting him in. But he doesn’t, leaning back on his wrists, observing you with the obvious bulge protruding from his slacks. “Get that vibrator. Show me how you do it.”
Obeying, you search for it under the pillow, retrieving it to rub the tip up and down your folds, finger on the trigger. “There you go,” he encourages, a cocky smirk on his face, slowly unbuckling the belt around his waist, sliding it from the loops and tossing it aside. “Tease it a little before you turn it on. Make sure it’s exactly where you want it.” 
You tap the toy on your swollen bud, already sensitive from your earlier climax. You meet his gaze, waiting for a signal. He slides out of his pants and briefs, revealing his erection sprung against his belly. Before he does anything else, he grabs your phone and sets it on the bed between you. Palming his length, he grins. “Go ahead.” 
What a fucking menace he can be.
Pushing the button, the vibrator immediately pulsates on you, causing you to twitch from the intense sensation. He watches, fingers wrapped around his shaft, stroking himself, thumb grazing the slit. “Look at you. My gorgeous girl,” he purrs. “My perfect angel with the prettiest pussy. Can’t wait to stretch you open with this cock. Bury myself deep inside you. Fill you up with my cum.”
“Fuck, Kento,” you whimper, pressing the fluttering tip firmer, sweat beginning to bead on your forehead. You’ve always loved his hands; how pristine they are with his knuckles tight on his skin. Large, strong, then rough on the pads of his fingers from hard work and constant use. They’re even prettier in a fist surrounding his cock, wrist jerking hastily, precum glistening at the tip. Your entire focus is on him touching himself while he watches you do the same, the toy’s low hum enhanced when it’s snugly nestled to your clit. 
“You like it when I talk nasty to you, huh?” he huffs, readjusting himself nearer to you. He’s so close, you can practically feel the tip of his cock at your quivering pussy. “Is it better than listening to your ridiculous pornography?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” you whine, jutting your hips out, attempting to close the gap. 
“Unlike them, I can actually touch you,” he muses, his tip teasing your entrance. “I can do whatever I want, whatever you want. They don’t get to fuck this sweet cunt like I get to. They don’t get to taste you the way I do.” 
Suddenly, he grabs the vibrator from your grasp, shutting it off and setting it back under the pillow. He shifts down the bed, positioning his head between your thighs, diving in tongue first onto your puffy clit. Pleasure resonates from your core throughout your limbs, legs shaky and mind hazy as he slobbers all over you, covering your bud in his frothy spit. It’s sloppy, salacious, straight up nasty. After only a few strokes of his tongue, it’s already enough to send you into your third orgasm of the night, more powerful than the first two combined when you were alone. 
You’d be a fool to expect him to let up after coming once with him; still, it shocks you when he doesn’t stop. He latches to you harder, suckling on your sensitive clit until it’s plump between his glossy lips and you’re crying out, “Too much!” overstimulated and spasming above him. Sometimes, when he’s in one of these moods, he forgets his own virility, always so keen on making you orgasm multiple times in one go. Tonight, he forgets that you had already been prepping yourself since earlier. With a gentle kiss, he relents, indulging in his work by running his tongue along your gushing pussy, drinking up your cum. He reaches for his cock, stiff between his stomach and the bedsheets under him. On his knees, he returns to his spot from earlier, stroking his cock with the tip just barely in your entrance. 
You’re absolutely spent, but you yearn for him inside you, desperate to be filled with his load. “Come in me, baby,” you beg, gripping his wrist to pull him closer. “Fuck me.” 
He lets out a disapproving tsk, shaking his head. “Not yet, princess. You have to be patient. We’re just getting started,” he smirks, stroking himself faster. “Are you just so fucking needy for my cum?” You nod erratically, tempted to thrust yourself onto him. 
“Then beg for it,” he orders, sliding his cock the slightest bit further inside you. “Convince me that you deserve it.”
Understanding what he wants, you retrieve your little toy again, rubbing small circles with it on your bud, smearing whatever is left of your orgasm around it. “Please, Kento. Please. I need it. I need it.”
The sight of you like this has him dangling on the very edge, so close to climax. “Turn it on,” he demands. You do, the buzz electrifying all the nerves in your body yet again. You chant his name over and over until he shoots insides you, spurts of opaque cum flooding your pussy. “Yes, yes. Good girl. Take that fucking cum. Take all of it. Fuck.” His voice is hushed, breathy and trembling from the high. 
You stop the vibrator, tossing it to the floor carelessly. Nanami crawls next to you, cradling you in his arms. With a kiss to your forehead, he whispers, “Are you okay?” 
You smile, turning to face him, nuzzling his chest. “Of course.”
He caresses your face, trailing down your body to rest his hand at your waist. He glances at your phone beside you. “We’re still recording, you know.”
You giggle. “And…?”
He kisses you softly, tongue flitting past your lips, guiding you flat on your back, spreading your legs apart. “I’m not done with you yet.” His hand glides to your loins, toying with your swollen clit before teasing your entrance, brimming with his creampie. “Can you still take it, sweetheart?”
You nod, breath hitching, cuddling closer to him. Smiling sweetly at you, he eases a finger in, cum overflowing your pussy and trickling out from your slit. He slides in another easily, stretching you open, a whine escaping you. His mouth is hot on your ear. “You love this, don’t you? Me finger fucking my cum deeper inside you. Taking it like an obedient whore.” He picks up the pace, your cunt clenching his digits. “I’m going to get you pregnant tonight. Breed you, make you mine. You want that, sweetie?” His fingers writhe inside you, hitting that sweet spot repeatedly until you’re tight around him, ready for another orgasm. At this point, you’ve stopped keeping count, lost in a sex-fueled craze instigated by your husband. 
“Yes, Kento. Give it to me. I want it. I want it so bad.” You notice he’s hard again, his erection stiffening against your leg. Reaching for him, you rub your hand on his length, feeling it twitch from your touch.
“Fuck,” he groans, pulling out from you. He sits up, back to the headboard, beckoning. “Get on my lap. Hurry,” he urges, hoisting you towards him. You straddle him, guiding his cock to your entrance. “Sink down on it. There we go,” he instructs, eyes wide, desperation etched in his tone. He needs this just as much as you do, and it drives you wild. You follow his command, lowering yourself onto him, his dick sliding in smoothly, bottoming out. “That’s my good girl. Fuck. You’re so good to me. So fucking good to me.”
You start riding him the way he likes, your ass slapping loudly on his thighs. He’s moaning endlessly, throwing in the occasional fuck and pet name as he grips your hips, bouncing you on his cock. You wrap your arms around his neck to keep steady, holding him tightly. “Want your cum,” you manage to utter, enraptured in the scorching pleasure he surrounds you in. 
He's fucking up into you, feet planted at the end of the bed. The mattress creaks with every thrust of his cock. In a huffy breath, he says, “Milk it out of me, honey. Milk me fucking dry. You can do it sweetheart; I know you can.” The praise encourages you to ride him faster, rougher, your bodies in tandem, springing on the bed, moaning into each other’s mouth with a passionate kiss. 
Soon, he pulsates inside you, stuffing you even fuller with his cum. You climax once more, gripping his cock with your fluttering pussy. He cradles you in a cozy embrace, catching his breath, nuzzling his nose to your chest. You giggle, running you fingers through his hair, smooching the top of his head. “You okay?” you ask, wiping the perspiration from his forehead.
He nods, exhaling deeply. “Just let me hold you. Need to calm down.”
You laugh, amused by his current state of post-coital euphoria. Fetching the phone teetering precariously at the edge of the bed now, you tap on the red button to stop the recording. Seeing this, he mentions, “You know I don’t actually mind you listening to that kind of stuff, right?” 
You smile, noticing the guilt in his voice, massaging his back. “I know, honey. I know you don’t.”
He squeezes you, taking a deep breath. “Okay, good. Just want to make that clear.”
You cup his cheek, thumb caressing the stress lines along his face, gradually relaxing to your touch. “If it makes you feel any better, I’d much rather listen to this than some stranger on the Internet.”
Chuckling, he replies. “Maybe it makes me feel a little bit better.” He snuggles closer to you, hugging you tight, reluctant to let you go. Eventually, the two of you slip beneath the covers, getting comfortable with Nanami spooning you from behind.  
You glance at the screen, showing the several minute long recording and the play button adjacent to it, ready to be tapped. “So,” you start, craning your neck to smirk at him. “Should we give it a listen?”
He returns your grin, shifting beside you, cock growing hard between your ass cheeks. “Absolutely.”
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sanguineterrain · 3 months
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restroom attendant | jason todd
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Summary: Tonight is the worst night ever--you just got dumped on your birthday, and all you want to do is cry in the restaurant bathroom in peace. That is, until, the Red Hood bursts in. This city just won't cut you a break.
Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!reader 
Word count: 1.7k
Warnings/tags: humor, mild angst, reader's ex-bf cheats and dumps her, jason is such a silly goose, flirting, meet ugly, canon-typical violence, awkward jason, comic relief dick grayson.
A/N: this is probably the silliest fic i've ever written LOL! i hope you guys enjoy it. please support your local jason todd enthusiast and reblog :)
the divider
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Tonight sucks. 
With a shaky hand, you attempt to soothe your swollen eyes. You’ve probably been in here for about twenty minutes. Your Uber has definitely left, as has your now ex-boyfriend of three years. 
Yoga instructor. It’s always the yoga instructor. They’re always fucking the yoga instructor.
You swallow a mouthful of tears and phlegm and try not to let the wet sink touch your dress. All you’d wanted was a little class on your birthday, maybe have some wine and play footsie under the table with your boyfriend. But no. That would’ve been too easy for you. 
You’re starting to think this city is cursed.
The door slams open. The force of it shakes the bathroom, rattles the mirrors. You spin around.
A man slides across the floor and smacks his head on the opposite wall. Red Hood appears in the doorway, the eyes of his helmet glowing eerily. 
Yep. Definitely cursed.
"Let's try this again," Hood says pleasantly, reloading his gun with a fresh magazine. "And in the interest of making myself transparent: when I ask you a question, Jerry, I expect a truthful answer."
He stalks over to Jerry and heaves him up by the lapels of his suit jacket. Hood's biceps bulge as he holds Jerry against the wall. You squish yourself against the sink. Water soaks the back of your dress. 
"You're crazy, I didn't do anything!" Jerry shouts, feet barely scraping the floor. 
"Volume, Jerry. People are trying to enjoy their meals.”
“Let go of me, Hood! I wasn’t anywhere near the Iceberg Lounge!”
“Yeah, see, words are coming outta your mouth, but they don't match the fact that I have three people who put you at the scene. How can we remedy this inconsistency? Any ideas?"
Jerry squirms, but he's no match for Hood's strength. Your heart pounds in your chest.
"Don't give me to the cops!" Jerry begs. 
"Cops are the least of your worries right now," Hood snarls. "You're damn lucky Nightwing wants to talk to you, Jerry, or your head would hurt a lot more."
Slowly, you reach for your purse, trying to pull out your phone. Instead, you knock it to the floor. Tears gather in your eyes because this night just can’t cut you a break.
“Motherfucker,” you whisper. 
Hood turns, those frightening white eyes now on you. Jerry also looks at you, legs still dangling.
“Hey,” Hood says without a sign of struggle. “Shit. Y'alright? Did I swipe ya?”
“No,” you say, voice shaky.
His posture softens. “Okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. Don’t be afraid.”
“I believe you. But, um… you're in the women's bathroom.”
Red Hood gives the room a onceover. 
“Huh. So we are. Dunno how that happened.” He shakes Jerry by the collar. “Why’d you run into the women’s bathroom, asshole?”
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Don't kill me!” Jerry wails. 
“Shut it, Jesus. I'm not gonna kill you. Not yet, anyway.” 
“It's fine, I was just leaving,” you say, bending down to get your purse. 
“Hey, no, don't let me push you out,” Hood says. “Sorry. I'll be gone in a couple minutes.”
Hood adjusts his grip so Jerry's face is against the wall, arms and legs restrained. Then he zipties Jerry and sits him down hard on the floor. Hood presses a button on his helmet. 
“Yo, N, I'm at Prescott's. Yeah, with Jerry. No, I didn't tell him to run in here, he did that all on his own! Well, I chased him for ten blocks, so I’d prefer if you’d keep your bitching to yourself. Thank you… Okay, we're in the women's bathroom, so—well, I didn't do it on purpose! No, I’m—will you just come here? There’s a side window.” Hood presses the button again with a grunt. “Dickhead.”
“Are you gonna erase my memory?” you ask. 
Hood jerks, turning back to you.
“What? Hell no, I'm not gonna erase your memory. I don't do that shit, I promise.”
You slump against the sink. “That's too bad. I would prefer it.”
He looks up from Jerry’s last ziptie and pulls it extra tight. Jerry whimpers. 
“How come?” Hood asks.
You shake your head. “It's nothing.”
“Hm. Doesn't look like nothing. If you're in danger—”
“I'm not in danger. I…”
You glance at Hood. You can't see his face, but his body language seems genuine. From what you've heard, Hood isn't known for mincing words or doing things he doesn't want to. And he’s good to Gothamites. Well, the law-abiding ones, anyway. He’s even been endorsed by Batman.
What's the harm in telling him about your disastrous night? Not like you'll see him again. Or Jerry. 
“I got dumped,” you say. 
“Ah.” Hood nods. “Been there.”
Somehow, the idea of Red Hood getting dumped is weirder than him beating up a guy in the women’s bathroom of Prescott’s.
You sniffle, and wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. 
“Yeah, um. It was our three year anniversary today. He took me here, told me he was in love with his yoga instructor, and then left.”
You tear up thinking about it. Hood makes a quiet noise.
“Shit. Well, I haven't been there,” he says. “But I know infidelity. I'm sorry. Dudes are trash.”
“And it's my birthday today,” you blurt, sniffling. 
“Happy birthday,” Jerry says, clutching his stomach. 
“What a fucking asshole!” Hood snarls, and lets go of Jerry, who crumples like a sack of potatoes. He’s out cold in a second, frozen on the floor.
Your brows rise. “Is he okay?”
“He’s fine. It’s his first time in Gotham.” Hood shrugs. “Anyway, where was I? Right, your asshole ex. Like it's not enough to publicly dump you, and then he goes and does it on your birthday? Who is this guy? I'll go talk to him right now.”
You laugh a loud, snorting laugh. It bounces off the tiles. 
Hood tilts his head. “What’d I say?”
You catch your breath and wave your hand. 
“No, nothing, I’m sorry. I’ve just had a crappy night and that’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever offered to me.”
“I mean it,” Hood says. “I’ll scare him if you want.”
“As tempting as that is, I don’t want to be an accessory to a crime.”
You also don’t want to put your ex in the ICU, no matter how much he might deserve it. Best to let the universe do its thing.
“You’d be acquitted, don’t worry.” Hood leans against the stall. “I’d never letcha go to jail.”
You smile, your ears growing warm. “You don’t even know me. What if I deserve it?”
“Nah. I got a good sense about people. I can tell you’re sweet. Probably don’t even run through red lights.”
“I try not to,” you say, heat spreading to your face. 
“Yeah, a good girl. I figured as much.”
Your eyes widen. Hood coughs and rubs his neck. Even his coughs sound intimidating through the helmet, but that’s negated by his scrunched-up posture.
“Fuck. Sorry. That wasn’t a come-on,” he says. “I mean, it sounded like one, but I’m realizing what a creep I am, flirting with you in a bathroom with a zip-tied criminal. Sorry.” He shakes his head. “I hate myself.”
You grin. “It’s okay. You made my night better, actually. Thanks.”
“That’s a testament to how terrible your night’s been if I made it better.”
You shrug. “Could always be worse. I bet Jerry had an even shittier night than me.”
“You’d win that bet. But I—”
The window swings open with a clunk. Nightwing pops his head in. He looks at Hood, then you. 
“Uh,” he says. “Evening. What’s going on?”
“What’s going on is it took you almost ten minutes to get here,” Hood says, back in Vigilante Mode. “Did you get lost?”
Nightwing smiles with all his teeth. “I was actually cleaning up your mess at the Bowery, Hood. You’re welcome.” 
He looks at you. “Hi. Sorry about this. I hope we didn’t ruin your night. If there’s anything we can reimburse you for…”
You shake your head. “It’s okay. My night was already sunk. Don’t worry about it. Thanks for keeping Gotham safe.”
Nightwing laughs. “The pleasure is ours.”
“Alright, enough chattering, Dickwing,” Hood says. “Take him.”
He lifts the unconscious Jerry, pushing him up to the window. He does so effortlessly, his jacket riding up to reveal his skin-tight jumpsuit. 
You look away before he catches you staring. There’s definitely something wrong with you. 
Nightwing takes Jerry and waves at you. Then he disappears.
“So, uh,” Hood says. “I gotta go.”
“Oh! Right, of course. Sorry to keep you.”
“Now what’re you apologizing for?” he asks, and it almost sounds like a tease. You wonder what his smile looks like. What color his eyes are.
“Well, I really didn’t mean to keep you…”
“You didn’t keep me,” Hood says, and you can hear the warmth even through his decoder. “This is probably the best arrest I’ve ever made.”
He starts to climb through the window, then stops. He digs into one of the pockets of his belt and pulls out a scrap of paper. 
“This is my number,” he says. “Well, it’s kind of the vigilante hotline. But you can reach me here, in case you ever need help.”
Hood walks over to give it to you. He smells like gunpowder and oranges. He’s even larger this close, the width of his shoulders dwarfing you. 
“Thank you,” you say quietly. 
He nods and backs up, clapping his hands.
“Right. So I’ll go… Bye.”
Hood looks at you for a moment more. Then he hops up onto the window sill and slides out, somehow graceful despite his bulk. The window closes. 
Your dress has dried, which is nice. You walk out of the bathroom. It’s a miracle no one else has come in. 
You get your coat and this time, when you see the empty seat across from yours, you don’t burst into tears, which is progress. You call another Uber and go to wait for it at the front. The hostess approaches you.
“Ma’am?” she says, and holds out a small, plastic container. In it is a slice of tiramisu. 
“I didn’t order this,” you say.
“It was called in and paid for by a Mr. R.H. He wishes you a happy birthday.” 
“Oh. Thank you.”
You’re definitely leaving a five-star review on Yelp.
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strangerstilinski · 8 months
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𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
summary; they say ‘showering together saves water’ or.. something like that.. right? otherwise known as, the one where sheer stupidity leads stiles into the shower with his very naked girlfriend. neither one of them is complaining about the turn of events.
warnings; no use of y/n, established relationship, explicit sexual content (vaginal fingering, handjobs, mentions of oral)
word count; +3k
a/n; i fear i'm going to be perpetually unhappy with this so i'm just biting the bullet and posting it and i'm camping so here it is an hour early!! — please be nice. if you’re interested in the original version cut from my Selenophiles series, you can find that here.
please think about leaving a comment/reblogging if you enjoy! i would appreciate either one to the actual ends of the earth.
Wrapped up in a softly hummed rendition of a song that had been rattling around in your brain all day, you didn’t even hear the bathroom door open or click shut again, not alerted to Stiles’ presence until his voice suddenly sounded just to the other side of the shower curtain.
“Hey.”
It was a simple greeting. Your boyfriend remaining entirely unaware as you flinched wildly in surprise and nearly slipped in the shower on the other side of the thin sheet of plastic that separated you.
“You mind if I brush my teeth real quick?” He asked.
Your heart was still pounding away in your chest from the scare but you forced out a breathy laugh as you reached for the shampoo.
“No, of course not,” You told him easily, “Why would I mind?”
Fingertips scrubbed at your scalp, the sounds of him already beginning to brush his teeth meeting your ears over the rush of the shower as he finally responded.
“I dunno,” He said, words garbled by the toothbrush and foam in his mouth, “You’re all.. naked, so-”
“Well that’s very noble of you,” You smiled softly to yourself, “But you really didn’t have to ask.”
“Noted.” He said through a mouthful of foam before spitting into the sink.
As you began to rinse suds from your hair, you heard the telltale clacking of his toothbrush against the side of the sink as he flicked beads of water away from the bristles. You were awaiting Stiles’ quick words of goodbye when there was a loud knock at the bathroom door.
“Stiles! You in the shower?” His father’s voice sounded loudly from the hallway.
Your heart thumped quick in your chest with sudden misplaced adrenaline and you found yourself poking your head outside of the shower curtain only to be greeted by Stiles already looking in your direction with wide brown eyes.
“Uh, yeah!” He called back weakly, gaze darting around the small room as if he might suddenly find a perfect place to hide.
“Does he not know I’m here?” You whispered sharply, brows pinched together in confusion.
“No.” Stiles hissed back, “I’m kind of a little bit grounded-”
“What?” You interrupted, still whispering despite your incredulity. “You’re grounded?”
“It’s an unspoken kind of thing but definitely implied and- And I didn’t think he’d be home ‘til late!” Stiles defended in an equally hushed whisper.
“Alright, well.. You mind if I just come in and grab the Asprin real quick?” Sheriff Stilinski's voice asked loudly.
Stiles’ eyes seemed to widen even further with a small squeak of distress, “Um-”
You threw the shower curtain open just enough to to fist your hand in the front of his shirt, yanking him forward until he stumbled and was forced to climb over the lip of the bathtub. The shower curtain was tugged back closed just as the doorknob turned and Stiles’ father cautiously peeked into the room through a cloud of steam.
Stiles was now the one standing directly under the spray of warm water, his pajamas quickly soaking through and plastering themselves to his body.
He was unable to help the way his eyes immediately dropped to the wet skin of your naked chest, but somehow, your instincts seemed to know exactly what was coming next because your hand found its way up to cover his mouth just before a soft groan could slip past his lips, the sound of it smothered by your palm.
“Sorry, my head’s killin’ me.” The Sheriff apologized as the medicine cabinet clicked open.
You uncovered Stiles’ mouth slowly and with caution, narrowing your eyes and tipping your head in a silent urge for him to formulate some sort of response. Brown eyes flicked between yours, his tongue poking out to wet his lips enticingly before he responded to his father.
“Nah, it’s cool, dad. Uh.. No biggie.”
Stiles’ eyes found their way to your naked chest yet again, bouncing back up to your face for a fraction of a second only for his gaze to fall back down to your breasts as if drawn there by an unstoppable force. His mind was decidedly blank, suddenly equipped with only enough brainpower to attempt to memorize the exact shade of your pert nipples in the soft light of the bathroom. A few beads of water from your hair curled their way around your collarbone, pooling in the small dip in your clavicle before welling over and cascading down to the swell of your breast.
You watched him swallow hard, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as the shower continued to spray against his fully-clothed back.
“Right. Well. G’night.” Sheriff Stilinski called out as the medicine cabinet slammed shut again.
The boy’s eyes snapped up to yours at the sharp sound, a pink flush creeping up his neck from either the warm steam of the shower, the sight of your naked body, or most likely some combination of the two.
“N-night, daddio-” Stiles replied in an admittedly high voice, shaking his head at his you in warning as he watched you pinch your lips between your teeth to hold back a laugh.
The bathroom door finally closed with a loud click and you let your head drop forward onto your boyfriend’s shoulder as you released a quiet giggle.
“Oh my god.” You breathed out.
“Sorry,” Stiles apologized, “For, uh, invading your shower.”
You lifted your head, “I quite literally pulled you in against your will.”
Stiles nodded, “Yeah. I, uh, I guess you did.”
You snorted softly in amusement and watched his eyes flick over your face in a slow trail. His gaze eventually found something of interest behind you and he seemed to hone in on it with a determined focus.
“What are you looking at?” You questioned quietly, craning your neck to examine the shower products on the shelf at your back before returning your gaze to the boy in front of you.
“I, uh.. Well. Literally, y’know.. Anything but your extremely naked body.” He choked out weakly.
A smile pulled at your lips and you inched forward to drag your hands lightly over the soaked-through cotton of his shirt, “There something wrong with my naked body, Stilinski?”
You’d said the words with a teasing lilt to your voice, but Stiles’ eyes seemed to snap back to your own sharply, “No! No, absolutely nothing-” He denied immediately.
“Okay, well, you are allowed to look, y’know,” You told him softly, like you were revealing a secret, “It isn’t like it’s anything you haven’t already seen-”
“Well, yeah but, you- You’re trying to shower and.. If I’m being totally honest, if I look now I’m gonna get painfully hard painfully fast ‘cause I’m already barely holding on here-”
At his words, you shuffled back just a fraction so you could peek down in between you, your eyes catching on the wet, tented fabric of his pajama bottoms. Your hands twitched with the desperate need to touch and you hesitated for only a second before taking ahold of the soaked material of his shirt beneath your fingers.
“Maybe you should shower, too,” You interrupted, licking your lips as you gazed back up at your boyfriend, “I mean, your dad already thinks you are, and you’re already all wet, so y’know.. We should probably get you naked-”
The moment the word left your mouth, you tightened your fingers around wet fabric and stammered quietly, ridiculously nervous considering that you were already naked. And wet.
“-And clean. Naked, to clean your- To wash your body, obviously. I mean, it only makes sense, right?” You suggested eagerly.
The fabric of his shirt inched up his torso, your deft hands revealing his hips and the thick trail of hair at his belly button, but that was where you stopped, waiting for him to give some sort of approval before lifting it any further.
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s smart.” He agreed quickly, nodding for you to continue.
You stripped him of the wet article, dropping it at the opposite end of the tub with a quiet smack. When your eyes returned to his, Stiles barely held your gaze before he was cupping your face and dragging your mouth to his. He turned you back into the shower wall and you sighed in contentment as the spray of warm water finally cascaded over the side of your body once again, pleasant goosebumps erupting over your skin.
Stiles’ kisses were an enigma and they very nearly managed to catch you by surprise every time — the way he devoured your mouth with so much hunger yet was still somehow able to hold you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. His lips dragged over yours sickly sweet, thumb stroking over your cheek, fingertips digging into your scalp beneath wet hair.
You only managed to hold out for a few desperate brushes of his mouth before you were parting your lips beneath his in silent invitation. When his tongue teased against yours, you caught the taste of mint left behind from his toothpaste and you couldn’t hold back the groan that poured from your mouth into his. You suddenly found yourself craving the taste of it, prodding your own tongue between his lips on the next kiss to chase the lingering flavor in his mouth.
The wet drag of his pajama pants against your naked thighs beneath the stream of water was an immediate reminder that he was still wearing the wet article of clothing and you flicked at them idly, fingertips dipping beneath the drawstring waist. His stomach tensed beneath your hands and he pulled back from the kiss just enough to drop his forehead to yours, eyes raking over your face slowly as he attempted to catch his breath.
“What, um. What do you- I mean, do you, um..” His eyes pinched shut in frustration as his own inability to convey himself.
Your hand slid over his water-slick hip, arm circling around his waist until you could run your fingertips gently along his spine beneath the water, forcing a contented sigh from his kiss-swollen mouth at the contact.
You licked your lips in thought, “I could either jerk you off in here, or we could wait and I can blow you in your bedroom,” You offered quietly, “I’d blow you in here but I’m honestly not entirely sure how it would work with all the water in my face and-”
Stiles nearly whimpered, “You cannot say that shit and seriously expect me to not blow my load, like, immediately.”
Your mouth twisted up into a grin, “Sorry.”
You weren’t.
He dragged you just a bit closer beneath the spray, bare chests sliding against one another. A shaky exhale left his lips and cascaded across your damp cheek, his nose skating softly against clean skin as he craned down to push his face into your neck.
“No you’re not.” He shot back without hesitation.
You sighed softly, head tipping back of its own accord in an open invitation for his lips to find your skin. The soaked through material of his pajama bottoms did nothing to hide the warm, hard length of him pressing against your hip. You slipped your hand just a bit farther beneath the damp cotton until your fist found its home around him, beginning to move in firm jerks as a choked groan sounded in his throat.
“No, I’m not.” You agreed easily.
“Jesus Christ.”
“So?” You asked quietly, words spilling out toward the ceiling as your head rested against the shower wall.
“Huh?” Stiles articulated weakly, the sound swallowed up by the way his mouth was pressed into the skin beneath your jaw. A large hand slipped down the length of your spine, long fingers finding their way to your ass, merely resting there for a moment before a flick of your wrist seemed to spur him on, hand tightening over the soft flesh as he dragged you up against him just a bit harder.
Your ankle hooked around his knee easily, pulling yourself up a bit higher, warm, wet cotton still separating you as you continued to work his length beneath the material.
“Handjob in shower or blowjob in room.” You repeated the options stiffly, thoughts scattered from the feel of his fingertips digging into your backside.
“Shit.” He murmured against your neck, his hips jerking forward to meet your hand, making the movement of your wrist more difficult when it was pinned between your bodies. “I- Um.. I.. Shit-”
“It’s kinda looking like its gonna be handjob if you don’t decide otherwise pretty quick here-”
“But I-” A sharp sound was pulled from him when your hand slipped over the head of his cock, a delicious but quiet uh squeaking out onto the wet skin of your throat. “God, I really want your mouth but-” A quiet groan interrupts him but he carries on after only a brief pause, “If you stop I might die.”
He says the words so seriously that you can’t help the small laugh that pops out.
“Oh, so you want both? That’s what you’re telling me?”
“Uh-huh, yeah, fuck.. Please-”
“Seems a little-” Its your hushed words that are cut off this time, a small gasp of surprise falling from your lips when the hand on your ass creeps lower, hiking your leg up higher as two of his fingers find your wet entrance. “Little, um. A little greedy, don't you- Ah! Don’t you think?” Your teasing statement was tainted halfway through as he dipped his fingers inside, long and thick and pushing in to the third knuckle almost immediately.
He begins thrusting in time with the jerks of your hand, synchronized gasps and groans falling from your mouths for a minute before he thinks to respond.
“If you think I’m not gonna give as good as I get then-”
His words cut off with an unabashed moan against wet skin and you nosed at his jaw until he tipped his head up to meet your lips, your scolding shh silenced within the kiss.
“-Then you don’t think very highly of me, huh?” He continued as if he’d never paused at all, his words murmured between slick lips as his mouth slid against yours again and again. “It’d, uh- It’d be a fair trade-”
“Yeah?”
The whispered question was stolen from your mouth when he licked inside, hot and dirty as his nose pushed into your cheek.
“Yeah.”
His own utterance of the word was swallowed up by your gasp when his fingers crooked just so the next time he pushed them in deep. Your grip on him fell slack for only a moment before you recovered with newfound determination, matching his efforts as he sped up the rhythm of his hand.
Your thigh hitched up on his waist that much higher, all but consumed by the desperate hunger you felt to be closer. He returned the sentiment, pulling you in and crowding you back and devouring each of your sounds until it seemed as if he were everywhere all at once.
You traded kisses between stuttered breaths and heady gasps, bodies rolling into one another’s hands as you both chased after the tight pleasure coiling in your guts and building up, higher, stronger, closer–
Stiles came first, a soft whine against your tongue when your fist circled at the head of his cock, twisting and pulling his release from him in thick spurts beneath the wet cotton of his pajama bottoms. You worked him through it, taking control of the kiss as he went slack with his orgasm and finally pushing his pants to the floor of the bathtub with a wet thwack once his hips stopped twitching into your hand.
He fell back into the kiss urgently and you relinquished control without a fight, weak to do little more than throw an arm around his shoulders for support as he redoubled his efforts to make you come.
Thighs trembling, toes curling, your muscles tensed as you were worked closer and closer to your peak. His fingers hit a spot deep inside of you with every thrust and each time sparks danced up your spine with the impact, sharp noises of pleasure were dragged from your lips.
“Sti-” You whined softly, wet mouth falling against his cheek as you tried to alert him to your swiftly approaching release, “’m so close. Shit, I- ’m so close-”
“Shit,” He returned in an urgent whisper, “Shit, okay-”
He eased his hips back from your own, his free hand falling to the apex of your thighs. His lips covered yours again as he began swirling his fingertips around the swollen bud there and your whole body jolted at the sensation. Your mouth fell open with a soft cry as you came, the glide of his fingers both smoother and more sharp as he worked you through it.
As you came down you were panting, hot breaths mingling between your mouths. The steam of the shower felt almost cloying, both of you a little lightheaded from the heat and the exertion. You cracked your eyes open and found his gaze already on you, eyes hooded and heavy, the tip of his nose bumping your own.
“Holy shit.”
It came out as nothing more than a whisper against his lips, your chest heaving in time with his as you both fought to catch your breath. You loosened the tight grip your arm had taken up around his shoulders and neck, mouth slack as you tried to pull in enough oxygen to clear your head.
“That was-”
“Yeah.” He whispered in agreement, forehead falling against yours.
The tip of your thumb pressed into a dark freckle on his chest as your hand made its way down from his shoulder in a slow drag over slick skin. You swallowed around your dry mouth as your leg finally fell free from its place around him and provided instant relief to your muscles.
“You sure you can handle two more orgasms?” You questioned breathlessly, not entirely sure which response you wanted to hear as you swayed against him in the overpowering steam of the shower.
In lieu of an immediate response, his gaze fell downward and your own followed on instinct, catching sight of the long thickness of his cock, already fattening back up against his thigh with arousal.
Tongue feeling suddenly heavy, you were filled with the urge to fulfill your teasing promise, to work him toward his peak all over again with your mouth.
You voice was a breathless whisper when it finally sounded.
“Oh.”
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cremebruleequeen · 7 months
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Boobs
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Jake Seresin x wife!reader (wc 700)
Summary
Jake notices something...different about his wife.
Warnings
Probably the most suggestive thing I've ever written lmfao but it's still not explicit or anything. Still, 16+ please. Mentions of pregnancy, lots of focus on reader's chest especially in the first part, use of the word boobs. Fem reader. Kinda mentions of sex? I'm pushing the "jake is absolutely whipped for his wife" agenda. He's also a horndog, but that's neither here nor there. Not proofread, but what else is new?
A/N
Whipped this up after an idea I had at like 3 am. Super short and kinda sweet. I love Jake Seresin fics (if my reblogs are any indication lmao) and thought I'd try to contribute. Side note, but that gif kills me every time.
Jake did a double take as he passed the couch. His wife, Y/N, sat cross legged, eating a bowl of ice cream and catching up on her favorite crime show. Jake loved getting to see her relaxed. Her job hardly ever allowed for it, so he made a point to not bother her when she was enjoying her time off. What he loved the most, although it’d take a lot for him to admit it, was how she dressed when she was relaxed.
Jake Seresin would always be the first to say that his wife was the most beautiful woman on the planet. It wasn’t a debatable matter, no matter what she seemed to think.
In her professional attire, he thought she looked incredibly bad-ass. Ready to take on anything that was thrown at her with grace and poise. When she was dressed up for a night out, he thought she looked like a super model (and the looks she received from both the men and women who saw them had him thinking they agreed.)
But when she was at home relaxing, hair messily thrown up in a bun and not a smudge of makeup on her face, she never looked more perfect. There was something so domestic and maybe intimate about the fact that she was letting her see him this way. Normally, she chose to wear sweats or (his favorite) a pair of shorts that were not even close to appropriate to wear in public, and one of his t-shirts. Today, however, she was wearing a tight, cropped, tank.
This was what caused him to question what he was seeing. Jake Seresin knew his wife (and by extension, her body) like the back of his hand.
He approached slowly, eyes not leaving her chest. He wondered for a moment if it was simply the shirt, if maybe it was the type with padding. But as he got closer, that clearly wasn’t the case. He sat next to her, ignoring when she greeted him.
Wordlessly, he reached out and practically groped her chest.
“Can I help you?” She laughed, looking at her husband. It wasn’t unlike Jake to be a bit handsy, but normally he gave her some warning or preamble first. “What happened to hello?”
“Your boobs are bigger.” He said, brow furrowing.
“What? No they’re not.” She set down her bowl, looking down at herself.
“Baby, trust me. I know what I’m talking about. They’re bigger.” He gave a squeeze, nodding solemnly.
Y/N swatted his hands away, replacing them with her own. “Huh.”
“See, I told you. You’re not supposed to start your period for another week or so, right?”
Y/N stared at him for a moment. “I can’t tell if it’s really creepy or really sweet that you know that.”
They both sat there in silence, staring at her boobs, when a lightbulb went off in his brain.
“You’re not pregnant, are you?”
Y/N opened her mouth to protest, but then she remembered.
“Mav’s barbeque.”
 Jake’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. “You think? I mean, you weren’t sick last week, maybe that was morning sickness?”
She nodded. Jake and Y/n sat in stunned silence. “Okay. Um. You stay right here. I’ll run to CVS or something and be right back.”
“Why?”
He stared at her like she’d grown two heads. “For a pregnancy test. Or a few. Drink some water” With that, he slipped on his shoes and grabbed his keys and wallet, leaving her sitting there.
Thirty minutes later, Jake sat on the edge of the bed, knee bouncing. What was he going to do? He knew he wanted kids, and she did too. But they had barely been married a year and had decided they weren’t ready yet. Although, if he was being completely honest, he’d be a bit disappointed if it wasn’t positive. He heard the bathroom door open, and she emerged, holding the test up for him to see.
“Oh, my God, really?” He asked, eyes filling with tears of their own volition. He picked her up and spun her in a circle, both of them laughing.
“You’re gonna be a dad, Jake.”
“I knew it. You’re boobs are definitely bigger.”
Thank you so much for reading! Any likes, comments, reblogs, or combination of the three are greatly appreciated!
If you liked this, check out my masterlist!
<3 Betty
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ncteez · 1 year
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the bore next door (j.ww)
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Jeon Wonwoo is not dull, nor is he the clean and polite neighbor that your mother assumed he was when she set you up on this awful date. 
or the one where wonwoo takes you home on the first date and renders you unable to walk, hoping to god that you don’t expose him to your parents.
ao3 | minors dni! | kindly leave feedback and reblog, i will kiss your forehead so fucking fast if you do. 
WORDCOUNT― 8.8k
PAIRING― wonwoo x afab reader
CONTENT― strangers to fucking immediately to the possibility of dating later, reader is a teacher but this is not a school setting, mocking and making fun, sneaky sex, flirting and bullying in the same instance, cocky wonwoo, um…they’re kind of competitive in bed
WARNINGS― small mention of other teachers cheating on their spouses (very tiny mention), the resistance of pressure to fall in love/have children
NOTE― I repurposed an old wip for this because putting this mf in the main role hit harder than it should have. that being said, don’t expect me to write men often like this, i just thought it would be neat to make him take control. this is not proof read.
smut tags under cut:: 
smut tags― dom(ish) wonwoo, bratty/sub reader, huge cock agenda (again), he gets the best head he’s ever had, he calls you messy a lot (he likes it messy),  face fucking, pussy eating, nipple biting, finger fucking, squirting,  dirty talk, wow i can’t believe I actually wrote a condom being used this time!!!!, wonwoo tries to make you moan because his horny brain wants your parents to know, dirty talk, praise, hair pulling.
~
23rd street. The restaurant is on 23rd street, and you can honestly say you’ve managed to hit every street but this one. From 13th street to 35th street, does the street in question even truly exist? Were you set up by your parents?
           In short, you have been single since high school. Maybe a few flings here or there throughout college but never truly settling on one man or woman in a relationship. You’re almost shocked that your parents are pushing so hard for you to find love. They want you to somehow feel the love from the movies, something like they had felt when they met. In this century, unfortunately, love isn’t quite as predictable. You can’t just pick a person who has a good job and a decent face and assume love will settle in someday.
           Not only is it not predictable but it isn’t a priority in your life. You have no interest in meeting the standard a man could hold for you, nor a woman, or family member. You’re here to exist in your own way, work your way up through the corporate food chain, and live in a home with over thirteen cats before dying a peaceful death in your late eighties. Why do you need a man to do any of this? Why do you need to settle for one cock, one set of hands, and one personality?
           Right, because mom wants you to at least try to experience what love is. Surely, it’s just because she desperately wants a grandchild from her one and only daughter. Sorry to disappoint, but that will not be you. Children were never a thought in your mind, nor was marriage, a honeymoon, or a burial plot next to another person. Your mother knows this, but the least you can do is show some effort to please her, right? To prove that relationships just aren’t your thing, and you’d much rather have the funds to live a comfortable life all on your own. 
           23rd street is the small thumb tack on a map where there is a restaurant that holds a very, very, annoying arrangement. Your mother had really sold the idea to you. She says the nice neighbor boy next to her seems to be around your age, he brings her the mail sometimes. He seems to have a job, his own car, his own home that sits in a plot next to theirs. His lawn stays mowed, and he even seems to have a dog that he walks at the same time three times a day. 
           She doesn’t mention what he looks like, and of course, when you’d asked because, in all honesty, that’s the most important thing to you if you’re going to get anything out of this, she simply states that he is tall, handsome, and has dark hair.
           For all you know, she just set you up on a date with Antonio Banderas. 
           What you weren’t expecting though, is to find this restaurant almost an hour late and walk in to find an already half-eaten meal in front of a man who looked at you as if you were any stranger on the street. A stranger you were, and so was he, but honestly, he is attractive. That alone made you feel a bit guilty for not having found this place sooner. The idea that the man in front of you did not wait for you shows that he also has priorities that aren’t you. This is probably a huge inconvenience for him too, if anything. Imagine your nice neighbor lady telling you to go to a restaurant to meet their daughter? God. The first words out of your mouth are an apology. Not for being late, and not for not even wanting to be here, but for your mother for even trying.
“Sorry about my mom,” you mutter, plopping down into the booth with a sigh. You eye over his food, already knowing that the check will likely be split. “Let’s just get this over with.”
“Why the rush?” The man immediately says, pushing an untouched glass of water your way. “I don’t mind that you were late, I was just really hungry.”
           You hum at him, waiting for the waitress to come over so you can place the most obnoxious order in the world because you’re really not in the mood to even look at the menu or the prices. Chicken strips and fries, obviously.
“So, what did you order?” You state, eyeing his plate. 
“Steak?” He says it like a question, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world and it definitely was. Clearly there is a half-eaten steak that probably costs over twenty dollars on his plate. Still, you were just trying to make small talk.
           The man says nothing after this, offering nothing but an awkward atmosphere. It doesn’t take long at all for you to stop caring about the entire arrangement, as if you cared in the first place. 
“Look—” You try to offer, and the handsome man in front of you doesn’t even quirk a brow as he sips his own drink. “I don’t even remember your name, and I know my mom is trying to set us up but—”
“You’re not interested, and you have better places to be?” The man finishes for you as he sits his drink down with a gulp that makes much less sound than your own. “That’s fair. My name is Wonwoo, by the way.”
           You nod at him, already deciding that you’ll get chicken strips somewhere else on your own so that you can eat them in the comfort of your own home, alone, without a stupidly handsome man in front of you that has, probably, less interest than you do.
“Well, I’m interested, and I don’t have anywhere better to be,” Wonwoo says, shooting his eyes up at you. “And to be quite honest with you, your mother was right. You are pretty.” 
           Taken aback, you’re somehow comforted by his forwardness towards you. He acts just as uninterested as you do but counters that demeanor with his words. You can’t imagine that this is how the man picks up women, there’s honestly no way he would win that way. No wonder he is single.  Then again, you kind of do the same thing. You see an attractive person and you act much the same as Wonwoo right now. Uninterested in anything long-term but clearly interested in something. 
“I’m pretty, huh?” You laugh, sipping the water and internally giving this man an extra three minutes to fully sell the idea of this date to you. “Imagine my surprise to walk in and find that I was set up on a date with someone that is actually attractive.”
“Oh?” Wonwoo quirks a brow. “Is this how you return a compliment?” 
           You shrug. “Is this how a date normally goes for you—you know, where you’ve already eaten your food and would probably rather pay and leave before she even gets a chance to order?”
“No,” he responds pointedly. “Would you rather me throw a tantrum that you were late?”
“You’d be a lot less dull if you did.” You throw back, eyeing a waitress as she heads over. 
           Wonwoo watches as you place your order and watches a bit harder at the way you smirk at yourself through nearly everything you say. You must think you’re clever, you must think he’s willing to chase you or something.
“I’m dull?” He questions, staring you down with narrowed eyes. “You just ordered chicken strips at one of the most expensive restaurants in town.”
           You’re taken aback a bit, shaking off his little insults and sitting straight up. Interesting date, truly.
“Okay then, Wonwoo—” You say his name as if it’s a joke or something, but you don’t really let him react to it. “What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a systems software developer,” he deadpans, swirling his very nonalcoholic water in his hand. “Not that you’d know what that is or anything. And you?”
           In all honesty, you don’t really know what that means, but it isn’t hard to figure it out. Assuming he must make programs or something, assuming he probably flew through college in order to do it in the way he seems proud of what he does. In all honesty, it still sounds like such a bore. He must talk in code or something in his free time. 
“I’m—uh—I’m a teacher.” You try to laugh, realizing that you’re kind of putting him down when he very clearly must make more money than you do. 
           Only now does it set in that your mother stated he has his own home. One that sits directly beside theirs in a neighborhood that you grew up in. One that you tried to find your own home in but ended up in a shitty apartment in the city because it is all you could afford. Wonwoo must make good money. 
“Oh yeah? What do you teach?” He perks up in interest, no longer acting as if he is trying to insult you and instead offering conversation to you with such ease that you almost forget you’re supposed to be getting through the date in discomfort. 
“I teach everything, I guess. It’s just first grade. I swear, I teach them how to pull up their pants properly more than how to spell words.” You smile to yourself thinking of the loud and obnoxious children you teach five days a week. Your job is why you don’t want children though. Your job is why you’d rather stay single. All you hear about is how the third-grade English teacher is fucking the fifth-grade science teacher even though he has a wife who is pregnant with their second child. Sometimes you hear gossip about the students themselves. Who in their right mind as an adult would gossip about elementary school kids? It’s no wonder you’re not a favored teacher. You’re sure they’ve said something about you for not having a significant other or a child on the way. 
           Wonwoo smiles through your endearment towards your class, eyes perking up at the plate of chicken strips on their way to you. He doesn’t say much when you thank the waitress and doesn’t really pay attention to the way you devour the first strip in nearly one bite. 
“Seems like a lively job. I just sit around all day staring at a computer screen…” He begins to drone on about his own job, sounding more like background noise in your head if you’re being honest. You can barely hear him over the crunching of your chicken and you’re a bit thankful for that.
“And I think that it was really worth the—” You interrupt his long string of sentences with a call of his name. “Wonwoo, do you have any other interests?” You ask, sipping your water.
           He deadpans at your rudeness of interrupting him. Wonwoo doesn’t often go out on dates, nor does he often get asked about these types of things so, he goes quiet, flicking his eyes down to his hands and then back up to you.
“I like to go hiking, I guess? Watching movies? Sometimes I like to cook—”
           Ah. He’s one of those guys. 
“Those are like, the most common interests a person can have. You don’t have any special hobbies or weird quirky things you like to do?” You question, trying to see something in him past the fact that he’s nice to look at and has a decent paycheck. 
“I don’t really have the time to put into other things. When I’m not working, I’m busy cleaning my house or doing yard work since I’m usually too tired during the week to do it.”
“God, you are such a bore.” 
           Wonwoo realizes now that maybe you’re not just throwing around banter. Sure, neither of you really wanted to come on this date but he could have used the time away from a computer screen to look at his neighbor’s daughter. If anything, it was an interesting offer, and those don’t come by him too often. He had seen photos of you. He knew you were pretty, and he also should have known you were a bit stubborn with the way your mother warned him before the date.
“If I was so boring, would I be sitting here on a date with a woman I don’t know?” He glares over at you. 
“I don’t know, probably. It isn’t the riskiest thing in the world. What? You don’t have tinder?”
           Wonwoo looks down again, because no, he doesn’t have fucking tinder and he doesn’t understand why that matters.  “Why does that matter?” 
“Ah, so we are similar.” You smile to yourself in a small win, and you’re not even sure if it’s even an argument at this point. “No time for hobbies, so no time for dating either?” 
           He nods slowly at you, completely confused by the way you go from picking his personality apart to finding some way to connect with him. 
“We can wrap this up then if you want?” You offer, still picking at the food on your plate. “I can pay for mine, so I release you from this arrangement.” 
           He just sits there staring at you. What a peculiar woman. Do you really assume he isn’t somehow finding the fun in all of this? In all honesty, this date is going off without a hitch compared to many other dates he’s been on. He has never been on a date where he is criticized, nor has he ever criticized a date himself before. It’s almost kind of nice, like a breath of fresh air being able to meet someone who isn’t trying to show their best aspects. Someone who is sitting in front of him being as real as they possibly can be. Sure, you’re attractive, but your lack of interest in this date is somehow—flooring.
“What if I want to stay?” He makes eye contact with you. “What if I want to pay for your overcooked chicken?” 
“I’d be letting you win if you pay for me, but you’re free to stay.” You wave him off with your hand, realizing that the chicken is very dry and wasn’t hitting the spot like you’d been pretending. “So, what now then?” You add with a tilt of the head. 
“Admitting I’m interested in you, I guess?” He says it with so much confidence that you barely notice the ‘I guess’ at the end of his sentence. It surprises you a little bit, because this entire time you’ve been trying to act as uninterested as possible, despite finding some amount of attraction to Wonwoo..
“Poor you,” You coo, pushing your plate away from you and pulling your almost-empty water closer. “Okay, let’s try and make this worth something then.” 
           Wonwoo prepares himself to listen, but honestly, he couldn’t have prepared for what you’re about to say to him.
“Neither of us are looking for anything serious right?” You ask, continuing after he nods. “So,” you pause briefly, thinking a bit too hard on how to word it. “Why don’t we just pretend this is a tinder date or something?”
           You’re definitely implying that the night could continue together, only to never speak of or see each other again after the sun rises. 
“Are you suggesting I bring you home with me?” He looks at you with a face you can’t really read. 
“Isn’t that what people do when they’re on a date, find each other attractive, but want nothing more?” You reiterate for him, because he seems to have trouble processing what you’re trying to get across to him. “Unless this isn’t your thing?”
           Wonwoo pulls his hand up and pushes his hair out of his face for a moment. He’s thinking about it, barely even realizing that you’ve known each other for less than an hour.
“I didn’t take you for the type of fuck on the first date.” He cocks his head, looking at you in a lazy way.
           It feels a little painful that the first curse word he says out loud is describing something that involves you and your offer. 
“I’m not, usually, but it has been a while for me and I can’t help but think we could have fun with it.”
           He nods, eyeing you down. “Do you want to just drive to my house then? Or do I need to bring you back to get your car?”
“Nah, I can drive. I know where you live, considering I grew up next door and all. I can just crash at my parent’s house once we are done.”
           Wonwoo kind of shifts his eyes nervously, looking down at the table and then back at you with a lick against his bottom lip. “Speaking of your parents—” He pauses, fiddling with his hands. “Look, they probably wouldn’t expect me to be the type to uh, get intimate with their daughter on the first date.”
“Only date,” you correct him, amused. “What, you thought we would meet again after this?”
           Wonwoo waves you off dismissively. “That’s not the point. I don’t want my neighbors thinking I’m some fuckboy, and I’d rather them not find out because I’m sure your mom would slap the shit out of me the next time I bring her the mail.”
“Wonwoo—” You snort in a mocking tone. “My mom set you up on a date with me, you’re gonna take me home and show me a good time within an hour of meeting me. Imagine if she found out you’re not as sweet and innocent as she thinks–”
           His face goes warm, but his eyes darken a bit as he looks at you. “Listen, I don’t usually do this.” 
“Well yeah, you seem too boring to actually have some fun.” 
           Offense taken. 
           And when he says nothing else to that, you speak up again, this time a bit more gentle. 
“Don’t feel like you have to. I can go home and we can pretend this never happened.”
“No, no,” Wonwoo assures, making eye contact with the waitress as if to silently ask for the check. “I could use the distraction.” 
           He was slim when he stood up, obnoxiously attractive getting into his stupid expensive car, and even the way he drove in front of you pissed you off. He drove the speed limit all the way to the familiar street of your childhood. What a boring, boring man.
           When he pulls into his driveway, you aren’t sure if you should park at his house or your own. You realize if you park at either your parents will wonder why you’re parking in their driveway but not in their living room, or wonder why you’re parked in the clean-cut Wonwoo’s driveway because he would never fuck their daughter on the first date. 
           You opt to park two houses away. You already know who the person is who lives in this house and surely they’d only raise a brow at your car being there. You shoot them a text just in case though, because god forbid if they mention it to your parents.
 ~
 “Fitting,” you say as you step into his living room and scan the way he is entirely fucking boring.
 “What?” He asks from behind you, watching you judge his space.
 “Very boring, very you.”
             Wonwoo sighs at your constant critiques of him, but he’s still smiling through it because you’re still here, and you’re the one who suggested coming home with him.
 “I’ve gotta say, I’ve never brought a woman home just to have her insult me,” he laughs, stepping around you and placing his jacket on the end of the couch. “I can imagine that your place hasn’t been cleaned since you moved in.”
             You glare at him, slipping your own jacket off and throwing it on his floor out of spite.
 “I am a comfortable mess, Wonwoo, and you–” you scan the room once more, “are very clearly uncomfortable.”
             He shifts his eyes for a second because, yeah. It’s not that he wouldn’t enjoy having colorful photos on the walls or a couple of knick-knacks lying around. Arguing about it isn’t your purpose for being here though, and he’d much rather skip the banter at this point.
 “I can admit that your jacket looks good on my floor,” he takes a step forward, attempting to be as bold as he typically would be with a woman who knows how he is in bed. He’s never had to play off of his own cleanliness though. “I’m willing to make a mess of this house if you take more off.”
             Oh, okay.
 “Oh, so you can be interesting?” You mock him once again, reaching for the hem of your dress (yes, dress.) and looking at him. “You want to see my clothes on your floor?”
             Wonwoo watches you intently, seeing your thighs being exposed more and more as the dress raises. His body is already reacting, becoming more and more attracted to your witty sense of displeasure toward his entire personality and lifestyle. After all, he’s a computer whizz and you deal with screaming children all day. He wonders why he expected anything less. Little do you know though, he fully intends to have you praising him before the night is up.
 “I’d like to see you on my floor,” he answers, reaching for your dress and pulling it up further and above your head. “If I’m being honest, anyway.”
             You were trying to go slow with the removal of your dress, mostly to see how he reacts to seeing a woman nearly naked in front of him but damn. You weren’t quite expecting how forward he’s being about it. Here you were expecting to be fucked missionary without any foreplay in a bed with all white sheets, right next to a washer and dryer.
 “Oh,” you gasp, slightly out of character in his opinion but his body reacts even more to that. He’s entering into his horny brain, confidence bubbling up through each thought and word he decides to say to you.
 “What, you’re shocked?” He laughs, dropping your dress to the floor and scanning your body. “I can admit that I’m a little shocked too.” 
             You look at him in confusion, moving your arms over your chest and wondering what the fuck he’s talking about. 
 “You wore a matching set for a first date? With a stranger?” He mocks you this time, stepping even closer and running his fingers along the hem of your bra. You can feel the warmth from his thumb gently rubbing the skin as he does it and instantly your body tells on you in the form of goosebumps. 
 “I’ll have you know,” you’re the one stepping closer this time, “I always wear matching sets, because I like to feel sexy.” 
             You’re a liar. You definitely wore them just in case.
             He hums, mere inches from your face as he looks down at you. It feels like he’s fucking looming, and even worse, it feels like he must have his heat set too high or something. It gets even worse when his eyes don’t leave yours, but you feel his hand drop from your chest only to hear the familiar sound of a belt being unbuckled. He stares at you while he does it, his hair falling in his face at the movement of what he’s doing waist down. For some reason, that does it for you, and you’re already rubbing your legs together as you stare right back at him. 
 “I think that’s bullshit,” he smirks, slipping his belt from the loops of his pants and tossing that to the floor as well, and then he brings his face another inch closer, “and don’t think I can’t tell that you’re turned on.” 
             You don’t back down, nor do you admit that he’s absolutely right. You just look at him, watching a strand of his hair fall in front of his eyes that are beginning to darken by the second. 
 “I’m not turned on, believe me, it’ll take a lot more than–” You’re cut off by him planting his hand directly between your legs, two fingers pressing your panties slightly into you. 
 “Hm?” He encourages you to say that again, but you’ve got your breath caught in your throat at his extreme change in demeanor.
             Still, he’s looking directly at your face, watching the way you try to think of a lie. 
 “You wanna keep pretending that I’m boring?” He asks, sliding his fingers up and pressing against your clit. 
             You shake your head, finally dropping the act and blinking at him with empty thoughts. 
 “That’s what I thought,” He ticks his tongue at you, now pulling his fingers away and showing you that even through your panties, his fingers are already soaked. “Now take the rest off.”
             You do as he says, watching him step away with his shirt untucked and his pants undone. You note that he grabs a condom, which for some reason reminds you that you’re definitely about to get railed into the next dimension if that bulge behind those pants implies anything. 
             Standing there with all of your clothes thrown around his living room, you watch him harder than you already had been. He’s slow when he sets the condom down on the table, and even slower when he walks up to you and places a hand on the top of your head before guiding you to sink down.
 “Wha–right here?” You ask, feeling the clean carpet offer relief for your knees rather than the hard wood floors of the room over. 
 “I said I wanted to see you on my floor, didn’t I?” He smiles, already admiring how shameful you’d appear to be if your parents saw you naked and on your knees for him. 
             You nod, looking up at him. When you reach forward to actually lower his pants though, he steps back and continues to create distance between the two of you as he backs himself up to the wall and lounges against it. 
 “Crawl to me,” he instructs, wondering if it’s too much for you but letting out a pleased sound of relief when you instantly do it.
             Would you normally let a man tell you to do that? No. Would you ever actually listen to a man who speaks to you like this? Fuck no. You can’t defend your actions when you do it and you also can’t lie that you’re absolutely fucking dripping over it. Like, honestly, he’s going to have to deep clean this fucking carpet by the time you leave this house. 
             When you reach him, you can feel the heat in your cheeks at the very idea of him from this angle. You sit on your knees, lifting your hands to his pants and lowering them before he can try to draw the process out even longer. You can hear him let out a short chuckle at the way you try to be quick with it, and you already know he’s about to say some shit.
 “I didn’t expect you to be this eager.” He talks down to you with a deep and raspy voice, one that sounds entirely sensual. In terms of what he says though, honestly, you shouldn’t expect much more considering how the two of you practically roasted each other on a fire before this very instant. 
             You ignore his words, letting his pants drop to the floor and now reaching to pull his briefs down. You were incredibly unprepared for his size as you watched it stand stiff and raging in front of your face. Not a single hint of precum is seen, and it makes you feel kind of pathetic for how wet you’ve already gotten. It almost feels like a challenge now, to make him feel just as desperate as you do now. 
             Thankfully, your throat is fairly trained for sucking men until they’re trembling. Hopefully, all those dudes you’ve fucked around with before come in handy, and don’t let you down this time around. 
             Wonwoo watches you from above, smiling over the way you stare at his length before finally touching it. He keeps his cool though, wondering how just over an hour ago you were ordering the worst food a restaurant has to offer, scoffing at his job, his hobbies, and now look at you. What a sight. 
 “Go on,” he encourages you, pressing his hips forward so that the head of his cock hits your cheek, “let me see how messy you are.”
             You roll your eyes at him, gripping the base before closing your eyes and breathing in through your nose. The very second you wrap your lips around him, he has both hands on your head, not moving it, not pushing you down or anything, just resting there. You’d think it was sweet if it weren’t for the fact that he pushes his hips forward after four whole seconds.
             So, he’s not going to guide your mouth, he’s going to hold it there? Okay, you guess. Thankfully, he’s not being super rough with it like you anticipated. If anything, he’s sliding himself into your mouth much as you’d do on your own. 
             He hums out at the feeling of your mouth, pressing in more and more with each thrust of his hips until he finally gets the majority of his length past your lips. He can see you breathe through your nose, but he doesn’t feel resistance at all so he presses his hips in even more, essentially until he’s blocking your airways and your throat is restricted around him in a gag. 
             Instead of pulling your head back though, he feels your fingers grip the back of his legs, you’re trying. He holds your head there in place, feeling your throat massage his cock in probably one of the best ways he’s ever felt. 
 “Shit,” he seethes out between a bite of his lip, “you’ve done this before?” 
             The very thought of you letting your throat be used is enough for him to want to keep doing it, but hearing your response as a half-moaned gag vibrating around his length is a whole other story. 
             He releases his hands from behind your head just to see if what he thinks you’re implying with those vibrations of sounds is right, and god is he thrown for a loop. You stay there, and even when he pulls his hips back before fucking into your throat once more, you still stay there.
             He’s going to lose his goddamn mind because never has a woman been able to withstand this amount in their throat for this long for him. Enough to actually have him a little worried that you’re essentially suffocating on him. 
             Wonwoo snaps his hips back, pulling out of your mouth and leaning down just a bit to grab your chin and guide your eyes up to him. 
 “Breathe,” he says, watching the way you smirk at him as if you’ve won some sort of award. He narrows his eyes at you, “you can choke all you want babe, but you’re gonna have to not be this cock drunk if you want to pretend that you’ve got the upper hand.”
           That motherfucker. You’re trying to make him show just a hint of desperation for you and he completely flips the tables on you? 
             Before you can even argue again, he’s guiding your lips back on him. You decide that it’s not over yet, he can talk down to you all he wants, but you’re going to be the one laughing at him by the end of the night. 
             You allow him to place his hands back on your head, and you kind of like the weight of his cock on your tongue if you’re being honest, but god damn does he have a harsh rhythm. His hips snap languidly but he buries himself deep.  Even when you try to look up at him as your nose presses against his pubic bone, he’s looking down at you so casually. Like he feels okay. Just okay. 
             This time, when he pulls his hips back, he doesn’t have to hold your head steady. You chase his length even as it tries to slide from your mouth, and you start to move your head back and forth in time with his hips. You finally receive a moan from him when you reach a hand up and cup his balls, massaging them in one hand as your saliva bubbles out from around your lips.
 “So fucking messy–” he chokes out in a surprised moan, praising you for somehow making this feel even better than it already did. 
             You hum around him again, feeling the weight of his cock pulse against your tongue and you start to taste more and more of his precum. Shamefully, you’re starting to want this more and more. You want him to call you messy, you want him to bruise your throat. You don’t mind, now that you’ve seen a snippet of what he’s like when he shows his pleasure.
             Just a moment goes by when you feel his hands grip your hair, pulling slightly and following the rhythm of your movements, just putting a bit more force behind them until he finally presses you one last time against his pelvic bone, swirling his hips and stretching out your throat impossibly more around him. 
 “Just like that, yeah,” his moans echo throughout his empty walls and it causes your eyes to flutter as you try to breathe in through your nose. When you gag, he moans again. “Fuck, you know exactly what you’re doing.”
             Then, he releases you and watches with a smirk at the way you pull back in a deep breath before wiping your mouth. 
             You’re not sure why, but the way he’s looking at you makes you feel proud. Maybe it’s because he’s managed to pull out this weird, needy side of you, or maybe it’s because he looks incredibly good looking at you like this after the two of you spit insults at each other all right. 
 “Do you want me to return the favor?” He asks, finally unbuttoning and removing his shirt.
             Seeing him now, you stare at his chest and toned arms, wanting to grab onto them and feel him do whatever it is he wants to do to you. He, on the other hand, can’t tell if you’re nodding to his question or looking him up and down slowly. 
 “You were so talkative earlier, what happened?” He smiles, stepping forward and falling to his knees himself, nudging your legs open in one go, “do you want to fuck my tongue, or no?”
             He continues to smile at your silence, eyes trained between your legs as he spreads them and then looks up at your face. “No?” 
             You shake your head, leaning back on your elbows to watch him and take a breath in.
 “It’s hard to talk when you’re like,” you motions towards him, “that.”
             He chuckles, taking it as a compliment before snatching a pillow off of his couch and tapping your thigh to get you to lift up. You do so, allowing him to place the pillow under your ass before he settles himself there.
           His eyes stay locked on yours as his fingers start to trail to your core, slipping through your folds with such ease that your embarrassment shows plainly on your face. 
 “Messy,” he compliments, lightly tapping against your clit before lowering his head and blowing softly against the glistening heat you offer to him. “Keep your legs spread for me babe.”
             You still watch him, his eyes glaring up from between your spread thighs as he lets his tongue fall from his mouth and lick one long and languid stripe up your core, stopping just before your clit and pulling back as if he’s tasting. You’re not sure what it is about him but goddamn, he must know he looks good when he’s pleasuring a woman. 
             Despite him asking you to keep your legs spread for him, it appears that he doesn’t trust you to do it because he’s still got one hand prying one of your legs apart and his head moving in all sorts of ways as he allows his tongue to lap every part of you besides your clit. Even his other hand, exploring and gently placing pressure against your entrance– the way he’s doing this makes you want to press forward, it makes you want to do exactly as he asked. 
             You roll your hips forward, and he instantly attaches his lips to your clit. You stop, and he trails back down and flicks his tongue against your folds in a teasing way. You grind forward, he’s right back on your clit, flicking his muscle the same way and eliciting a whine from you. 
             This time though, when you roll your hips back, he takes both hands and presses your legs open as far as he can get them, spreading your pussy out across his lips for him to take full control of. He nips at your clit before licking down, pressing the pointed muscle into you and only then does he release your legs. Now, he’s sliding both hands under your ass and rocking you against his face, angling his head so that he can lick inside of your walls to truly taste you.
             God, you’re gonna lose it. Even if you didn’t want to, you’d think the way he’s moving his mouth is enough to get anyone to take advantage of it. You moan, pressing forward and back against his mouth as your own fingers fall to your clit. You rub when you press forward, feeling his warm and wet saliva drip down your slit and down to your ass, and you rub harder when you pull back, watching his eyes flutter open and still somehow manage to glare at you.
             And just as soon as it started, you blink and his face is right there. You would have let out a shocked sound, because jumpscare much? But you moan instead, because he hovers over you with a smirk and an arm between the two of you, his fingers instantly sliding into you as he attaches his lips to yours with little more than a moan of his own. 
 “Have you ever tasted yourself?” He asks, licking against your lips and scissoring his fingers open inside of you.
             You have, but for some reason it tasted better this time when he prods his tongue against yours. Perhaps because it’s from him, or maybe it’s because you’re a little obsessed with the way he navigates sex. 
             When he pulls back from your mouth, now losing himself a little bit in the heat of the faces you make when you feel good, he can’t help but give you a moan along with your own. You sound so fucking good when you’re not talking your shit, and god he knew that mouth could do more than be annoying. 
 “Open up,” he says, licking against your bottom lip as he thrusts his fingers deeper into you, “let me hear you.”
             You can’t really help it. When you open your mouth, you’re practically panting for him. His arm is moving harshly as he fucks his fingers into you and causing you to nearly lose balance on your elbows, but he holds you there with his other arm wrapped around your waist, still licking against your lip and smirking when you still can’t say anything. 
 “Louder,” He instructs, at least wanting you to moan louder for him if you’re going to act like this when he’s touching you. “Let your parents hear you get fucked.” 
             Your eyes shoot open after that, and god, he is the fucking worst. Or maybe not, you can tell he does it on purpose. His fingers curling up inside of you and putting intense pressure against a spot that takes every man ages to find if they manage to even remember it.
 “Wonwoo,” you groan, rolling your eyes back while rolling your hips forward, hand shooting to his and holding it there, “can’t you just fuck me already?”
             He chuckles, dipping his head down to give a sharp bite against your nipple, his fingers still curling up into that spot. 
 “Come on my fingers first.” He says, floored by how good your voice sounds when you want to get fucked. 
             He continues to suck and bite against your nipple, and that sends shocks of pleasure straight down to where his fingers meet your g-spot. You could come right now if he’d just–
             You roll your hips forward harder, grinding your clit against his wrist and essentially fucking yourself on his fingers now. He moans against your nipple at the movement, biting down harder as he hears you just above him holding your breath. It seems like you like not being able to breath, which is just fucking great for him. Your mom would be so heartbroken, honestly. 
 “You think you can ride my cock like this?” He asks, popping your nipple out of his mouth and moving those bites up your neck and to your ear, “think you can come around me twice tonight?”
             You nod with heat rushing through your body, feeling his wrist stiffen up for your pleasure to grind against. 
           Fuck, he can feel your pussy gripping his fingers as you work yourself up and it takes everything in him not to pull his fingers from you and absolutely bury himself into the tight heat you’re offering, but he holds back, pulling from your neck and watching the way your brows furrow and your mouth falls slack.
 “That’s it babe, ride it.” he encourages, hearing your wet slide against his fingers with each movement of your body.
             You shake as it washes through you, feeling his fingers remain in their spot against your little bundle of pleasure inside of you. You feel like you can explode from this alone and he practically forces it out of you, pulling his fingers out and immediately rubbing circles on your clit. 
 “Let it go,” he encourages in a pleasured sigh, watching your body tremble involuntarily as your face contorts to what anyone else would assume is pain. He moves further back and watches your body soak both him and his floor. “Fuck, yes, such a fucking mess.”
             Well, that’s never happened before and the fact that you’re still orgasming is also new. You feel so sensitive, releasing in waves that offer little in terms of self control. Your hands shoot to his arm, gripping him so tightly as you try to hear his moans for you, but to be honest, you can’t hear a fucking thing through this wall of arousal in your head. 
             Finally, you open your eyes and he’s just looking at you, smirking at the dripping against his legs and the wet spot on the floor. 
 “Can you stand?” He asks with a chuckle, but his face is slightly amazed.
             This is the first time Wonwoo has ever had a woman squirt for him, and honestly he’s been trying for ages to let someone experience this through him, goddamn was it sexy to see. You look absolutely fucking gone at this moment, and he might be fucking in love with the image. 
 “Come on,” he says, not giving you enough time to even think about standing before he’s pulling you up on wobbling legs and guiding you to his couch. “Don’t worry, I like the mess.” He smiles, snatching up the condom and tearing the wrapper open with ease before rolling it down his length.
             Oh, right, he still hasn’t even fucked you yet. Fuck, he’s good.
             He sits himself next to you, pulling an arm around your waist and guiding you on top of him. He doesn’t even think twice at your shaking legs, soothing them as you follow his hand and position yourself against his long neglected cock being held up with his other hand. 
 “Can you ride me?” he genuinely asks this time, still seeing the shine against your legs from your recent orgasm, he continues to soothe the shaking in them though, hoping to god you’ll do the same thing on his cock. 
             You nod, knowing that once you’re seated, you have both his broad chest and the back of the couch to keep you steady. And when you sink down, you hear the sound you’ve been trying to pull from him all night. He lets out a soft moan, almost a whimper if you think hard enough about it, and it ignites a brand new fire in you as you take him in inch by inch.
             He can feel you clench, and your legs shaking only offer even more in terms of pleasure as you envelope him entirely with your heat. He can’t help but moan, almost unable to keep up his dominant persona with a pussy so sweet wrapped around him. God, he loves blind dates, honestly. 
 “Mhm,” he hums, rubbing both of his hands now against your thighs as you sit yourself flush against him and wait to adjust to his size, “I definitely like you.”
             You fall forward with a small laugh, the irony of the situation a bit too much on top of your mind falling helplessly and embarrassingly fast at how lucky you are to have a mother to set you up with such a man. 
             He’s a bit soft at this moment, wrapping both arms around your waist and listening to your breathless laughs against his neck. You’re pretty, and so fucking annoying. Just his type. 
 “I’m still going to fuck you senseless though.” he finally says, feeling your body still at his words as you lift a bit, just to slide back down on him.
 “Is that a promise?” You ask weakly, pretending that he didn’t already manage to do it with his hands alone. 
             He nods, the softness in his eyes disappearing instantly when he feels the drag of your pussy hug his length. He doesn’t hold back his moaning for you this time though, and he shows no shame in slapping your ass and guiding you even closer to his chest. 
             You stand on your knees a bit on top of him, watching his eyes zone in on your tits in his face. Hopefully, he’s going to keep that promise. 
             His hips snap up harshly as his hands grope your ass and spreads you apart. He snaps his hips again and again, nearly pulling his entire length out of you each time just to fill you up once again. You bounce a bit each time, and you can also feel his lips graze against your nipple each time he does it. 
             You whimper out, the sounds still echoing throughout his house along with the sounds of your thighs slapping against his. His grunts are deeper, and all of the sounds together sound like a desperate soundtrack of what you’ve always wished sex was like. He fucks you good, despite your legs still shaking, and despite the pain of his teeth biting against your skin now. 
             You can’t help it when you fall forward again, hugging around his head as he starts to relentlessly fuck into you at a faster pace, the thrusts going from slow and deep to tight and pointed. His thick cock easily pressing against that same spot his fingers had been teasing earlier. You choke out at the feeling, legs jolting and causing you to sit again. 
             He doesn’t falter at your failure to stay in position for him, and instead he gropes your ass harder, swirling your hips around him. You can feel how hard he is inside of you, splitting you open and pulsing at a near constant pace. 
 “Ride it,” he instructs, much like he did with his fingers and you follow suit, lifting just slightly and sliding back down again. “Harder,” he demands, pulling his head from your grasp and looking up at you with a wild smirk. 
             You look down at him, wondering how pitiful you must look up here. He appears to be loving it though, absolutely in love with the way you struggle to do what you swore you’d be able to. 
             Trying again, you begin to bounce on him and he grants you his fingers on your clit for that, moaning at your own choice of rhythm and leaning forward yet again to pop his presumed favorite nipple back into his mouth.
             The ministrations of his fingers paired with his mouth sends you spiraling once again into a world of pleasure. The shaking in your legs become more of a driving factor than anything as you ride him better than you’ve ever ridden anyone.
             Finally, he’s the one moaning out and trying to string together choked words of praise.
 “Your grip is so tight,” he mutters out, kissing up your chest and to your neck, “i can fucking feel you dripping down my legs.” He adds in a moan, losing himself in the way you move your hands through his hair and scratch at the nape of his neck. He wants to ruin you so badly, and he’s already drenched in you. He wants more. 
             You could have sworn he said he was going to make you come twice, now look at him, muttering out strings of curse words as you do nothing but ride and pet him. He’s melting under you, and you’ll be damned if he comes before you get that second orgasm. 
             Shooting your hand to your clit to replace his lazy movements, you work yourself up to your second orgasm and he just watches you, taking in the image of you practically riding him into oblivion until you’re clenching even tighter around him, throwing your head back and shooting your hands to his shoulders as you harshly roll your hips into his. You’re working yourself through it when he starts pumping into you, short and tight thrusts pushing you through your orgasm until he’s gripping you equally as hard, holding you down on him as he spills out and into the condom in more of a purr than a moan.
             You watch him, dazed out of your fucking mind as he bites against his bottom lip and slowly blinks through his orgasm as you. Part of you wishes he just did it raw, wanting so badly for him to make a mess of you like you did to him.
 ~
             You find yourself with him at your parent’s house just a week later, eating lunch in the chaotic mess of your mother’s kitchen. It’s funny, really, how he’s trying to be polite to her as if he’s not about to take you next door and probably fuck you against an open window just to blow his own cover.
 “I told you he was a keeper,” your mother compliments him as she lays a plate of croissants on the table. “Just yesterday he offered to mow our lawn when we head off for vacation this weekend!”
             She’s praising him much like you wouldn’t, and you kick him under the table for trying to suck up to her even more now that he’s fucked you already. 
 “Did he now?” You ask, glaring over at him and then smiling sweetly at your mother. “Guess he is kind of a keeper, maybe.”
             His eyes shoot to you and he smiles around his bite of croissant at you. 
 “You were right though,” he counters you towards your mother, “she’s definitely a handful.”
             Your mother crosses her arms as she leans against the counter, looking between the both of you. 
 “How many dates have you been on without telling me?” She asks, looking at you.
 “A few…” If she considers it a date to meet up and fuck every other day this week.
 “We had lunch a few days ago.” he adds, backing you up. It’s just that the lunch wasn’t exactly like–you know, at a restaurant, and maybe it wasn’t food…
 “So, are you guys going to be exclusive, or?”
             Wonwoo looks at you curiously, and you look back at him. 
 “I dunno, it’s only been a week, Mom.”
             She nods, clapping once before pushing off of the counter and leaving the kitchen. 
             It’s silent between you and Wonwoo for a few moments before he speaks up.
 “I wouldn’t be against it.”
 “Against what?” You ask, looking at him with a raised brow. 
 “You know, like, dating. I can’t imagine anyone actually putting up with you besides me, anyway.”
             You kick him again from under the table, causing him to wince out in pain before glaring at you. You smile in return though, giving him a shrug and now rubbing your foot against the bruise you probably just caused. 
 “I can’t imagine anyone would want to put up with you either,” You laugh thinking hard about your next words. “Lucky for you, I already put up with you.”
 ~
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agi-ppangx · 1 month
Text
side quest (lee minho x gn!reader)
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fluff, no warnings, shy mimo !!!
an: based on this lovely request !! i had so much fun writing this and i really like how it turned out, so i hope you'll enjoy it as well<3 please remember that feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated🫶🏽
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“excuse me? hi,” you heard someone’s voice behind you as you were collecting your stuff from the desk. when you looked over your shoulder you noticed a guy from your classes who sat in the back row and always did great at exams. you smiled shyly with rosy cheeks and tilted your head a bit in a silent question. 
“hi?” you responded hesitantly, desperately trying to remember his name. It was something starting with an m maybe…?
“i’m minho, we haven’t really spoken but um…” he said quietly, fidgeting with his bracelet. minho, right. “i noticed the badges on your bag and i- i wanted to ask if you play that game?” he finally mumbled, looking at you. you noticed his ears were as red as a tomato and it actually made your heart beat a bit faster - he was just too cute like that. 
“oh, um- yeah, i do,” you said, glancing at your bag with a smile. “i’m not that good, though. i mostly play for the vibes, y’know, there’s not really anyone who could teach me all of those complicated strategies and stuff,” you huffed, lowering your head, and you didn’t notice as minho’s face lit up with hope at your words. his eyes sparkled as he watched you carefully adjust one of the badges and it made him a bit bolder to speak up again. 
“maybe we could play together sometimes? i could teach you some things,” he suggested and it made you smile wider than before. you raised your head, looking minho in the eyes and it made him a little flustered, but he couldn’t give up now. not when he finally spoke to you, after so many times when he saw you in class and wished you would notice his curious gaze whenever you would adjust your badges as usual. minho thought this subtle habit of yours was oddly heartwarming, the way you always took care of them made him wonder if you would also take care of someone the same way. 
“sure, i’d love that,” you said with a huge grin and minho finally felt like he could breathe again. he exhaled loudly, earning a soft giggle from you. 
“can i maybe have your number, then?” he asked shyly, handing you his phone, and you smirked. 
“be careful, because i'm about to think that the game was just a cover to get my number,” you giggled again, getting bolder, and you typed your number quickly as his eyes widened. 
“no! no, i- you just seem really cool and we play the same game and-” he started rambling in pure panic, so you playfully rolled your eyes and placed a tiniest peck on his cheek to make him stop overthinking your joke. you could see his mind go haywire and it actually made your heart ache a little, because you didn’t want the poor boy to get upset. 
“don’t worry, i wouldn’t mind anyway. i’ll wait for a text from you then, yeah?” you asked with a smile and minho could only nod, too shocked to comprehend the entire situation. you waved at him and walked away, leaving minho with a pounding heart and burning cheeks. 
you flirting with him was something he didn’t even dare to think would happen, but he kind of hoped it could lead to something more. it became like a side quest for him and minho was more than happy to devote himself to it if the winning prize would be your heart.
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taglist !
@lynlyndoll @iyenbread @flooo71 @skz-streamer @inniescandy-01 @hannahhbahng @prettymiye0n @ggsez31 @laylasbunbunny @like-a-diamondinthesky @axel-skz @kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy @l3visbby @skzhoes @minhosbitterriver @astraystayyh @xichien @linospuddin
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classyrbf · 29 days
Note
boss!nanami pls 🤭🤤
MY BOSS IS SUPER HOT! — NANAMI KENTO
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SYNOPSIS...being the new hire at the office, your hear rumors of your boss, Nanami Kento. You were curious who he was, having never met him before. Though one late night stay at the office answers all of your questions
INFO...boss!nanami x fem!reader, suggestive(?), fluff(?), reader and nanami got sexual tension, no like really they wanna fuck, not proofread
OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated
thank you for the request anon!
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Your boss, Nanami, is sort of like an urban legend around the office. You always hear of him but you’ve never seen him walk in or out of the office. Your eyes always trail over to his office door, his nameplate on the left hand side. His blinds were always shut, completely covering the window. It was always so odd. You were starting to wonder if he ever stepped foot in this building or if he worked from home like others did. Either way, he was your boss and he hired you. Well, someone under his position interviewed you and decided you were good enough to work here. You always wondered what he looked like. Was he an old man? Was he young? Did he have dark or light hair? Was he short? You had no clue.
One late night you stayed at the office longer than needed to finish your work, getting up from your chair to grab some more coffee. Mostly everyone was gone by now and you were certain it was just you and the janitor in the building until you collided with a broad chest, your coffee spilling all over your white dress shirt. “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry.” You nervously look up to see a tall blond haired man walking out of the one and only Kento Nanami’s office. “Sir, I-"
“Are you okay?” He asked, grabbing napkins to help wipe off your stained shirt. “I should’ve been looking where I was going.” His voice was soft and deep at the same time, a perfect mix.
“I’m…okay.” So this is what he looked like. You didn’t expect that at all. He was handsome beyond belief and actually real. You dabbed up the coffee as much as you could, though the stain were still there.
“You’re the new hire, aren’t you?” He asked. The question made you freeze. You weren’t sure if he was going to belittle you or what, still, you answered truthfully.
“I am. I’m—”
“Y/n.” He smiled. “I’ve heard about you. You’ve been doing amazing work around here. May I ask what you’re still doing here so late in the night?” He raised a brow.
“Um.” You stared at him like a complete idiot, completely in shock that he knew your name. People you’ve been working with for weeks now don’t even know your name, yet he does. “Sorry! I was staying late to finish my assignment.”
“Please, there’s no need for you to overwork yourself. I’ll extend your deadline. Also, allow me to pay for your dry cleaning. I apologize for the coffee.” He placed a warm hand on your shoulder. Words were caught in your throat, lost at what to say. “Hm?” He questioned, letting out a soft chuckle.
“Uh, yes! I’m sorry! Again! I’d appreciate that.” You nodded before looking down at your watch. “Oh shit! I missed the bus!” You sigh in disappointment. You didn’t realize just how late you stayed.
“Let me take you home,” he offered.
You looked at him. “Are you sure? You’re already planning on paying for my dry cleaning I can’t possibly pay you back.”
“There’s no need to. Get your things.”
The drive to your house is silent, despite you instructing him where to turn. Your body was tense in the seat, embarrassed by the fact you ran into your boss and spilled coffee all over yourself and now here he was having to drive you home because you missed the bus. It didn’t help the fact he was handsome and polite, exceeding your expectations of what he’d be like. From what you heard around the office, he was a stern man who liked to get things done in order and on time. Yet, your conversation with him was the complete opposite.
“It’s gonna be right here.” You pointed to the small tan house at the end of the road. He gently braked the car, putting it in park. “Thank you so much,” you spoke. Stepping foot out of the car, you shut the door behind you and began walking up your steps until you heard another car door shut. Nanami walked up your steps, placing his hand on the small of you back as you both walked to the front door. “You didn’t have to,” you shyly giggle.
“Well, I still feel bad about ruining your shirt.” He looked down at your chest.
“Oh, right. I sort of forgot about that.” You unlocked your door, stepping inside and slipping your shoes off. “Please, come in, I don’t want you waiting out in the cold.” He stepped inside, looking around your house as you ran to your bedroom to change. “One second!” You called from your room. You were struggling to remove your skirt, the zipper getting stuck from time to time.
“I’m in no rush!” Nanami hollered back. He watched the end of the hallways where your room was located, the door slightly cracked open. His eyes widened when you walked by only in your bra. Instantly, he looked away. He cleared his throat, tapping his fingers against each other.
“Sorry I took so long, zipper got stuck.” You walked up to him in a pair of shorts and plain tee, your dress shirt in hand. He slowly reached for it, taking it from your hand. “Could I get you anything before you leave? Water or something?” You felt bed that you’ve been an absolute mess since the moment you met him.
“Water is fine,” he answered. He trailed behind you into the kitchen, sitting down at the small island as you grabbed a cup from your cabinet. Nanami’s eyes averted down to your exposed legs, the fabric of your shorts barely covering your ass.
“Here you go.” You handed him the glass.
“Thank you.” He half smiled, put the glass to his lips as he took a sip of the refreshing liquid. “If you don’t mind me asking, is it just you that lives here?”
“Yeah, it’s been only me for a good few months now.” You leaned against the counter.
“Few months?” He questioned.
“I just recently went through a break up, so…yeah,” you scoffed.
“I didn’t mean to intrude on your personal life—”
“No, no worries. He was an asshole anyway.” For some reason you felt comfortable with Nanami, or maybe you were just used to oversharing where it wasn’t needed. Though, he let out a small chuckle at your words. He shook his head with a smile. “Too much?”
“Of course not.” His eyes locked onto yours. A moment of silence shared between you both as you got lost in each other’s gaze. Nanami broke the silence. “Well, uh, I should get going.” He stood up from his seat, grabbing your shirt. You followed behind him as he walked himself to the front door, opening it. “I’ll see you in the office, y/n.”
“See you in the office! Thanks once again.” You leaned against the doorway, both of you smiling at one another like you’ve been doing all night. Your eyes stick to his figure as he gets in his car. He gives you one last wave and you wave right back before shutting and locking your door. “Oh my gosh! He’s so fucking hot!” You scream to yourself, hiding your face in your hands. “He looked at my tits!” You run to your bedroom, jumping on your bed as you giggle like a school girl into your pillow, kicking your feet. “How the fuck is he so fine?! I wanna fuck my boss...I'm gonna fuck him.”
Nanami on the other hand sat in his car outside your house, letting out a sigh as he looked at your door. “Oh, goddamn you, y/n.” He smirked to himself, running hand through his hair. It took everything in Nanami not to pounce on you right then and there. How unprofessional it would be of him. Your eyes and your smile were the first things he noticed about you besides the giant stain on your tits. He wondered if you even noticed your shirt was see through the entire time? “You’re gonna get me so much trouble, sweetheart.”
part 2?
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tag list (comment to be added):
@kodzukein @inayasahin @mxchi-mxxn @vlsquuu @love-4-keum @thirtykiwis @viisgrave @bellefaerie @manifestis @oliviaissocool1 @prettyfacedream @bsi25 @zayn-210 @charbunxxi @nahoye @mistyheart @supernatrualqueen @lem-hhn @mimibesticon @fateisnotafactor @iwanttoberich420 @angelofthorr @honestlywtfisgoingon @araities @vampzity @spicynoodles23 @pinkbunnysblog @nn-hh192 @chrishak @keiva1000 @darkstarlight82 @brownbtch @70cosmo07 @sadmonke @notfancyrebelpaper @aydene @millie--billie
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leviathans-watching · 8 months
Text
copping a feel of the older brothers
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includes: lucfier, mammon, levi x gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)
wc: .6k | rated t | m.list
warnings: though it's alright with the boys and they even find it funny/enjoy it/etc. this could possibly read as harassment so if that's something you're sensitive to...
a/n: this is with an already established relationship with them btw!! do not go around doing this to people you know!! my inbox is open to chat, leave feedback, and req, so come stop by!
please please please reblog
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lucifer always seems to have a sixth sense for when you’re feeling down, no matter how serious the situation is.
“it’s just not fair!” you insist emotionally. “i mean, he was my favorite character. and he died!”
lucifer, bless him, doesn’t always know what to do with that sixth sense. “that must be…difficult. um, do you want me to get levi? i’m sure he’d understand your…plight…better than i would.”
“no, it’s fine,” you say, pouting only slightly. “i’m sorry, i mus the bothering you.”
“no, no,” lucifer quickly disagrees. “look, would a hug make you feel better?”
a hug? now, that was rare for him to offer! but you jump on the chance, nodding pitifully. his arms wrap around you then, warm and strong, and you press your cheek to his collarbone.
“is this better?” he asks, and you nod against him, pressing your hands to his back. his broad and muscular back, you notice, and fully taking advantage of the situation, you run your hands across the muscles, digging into them lightly.
lucifer coughs slightly, pulling back. “are you quite finished feeling me up?” he asks pointedly, but there’s a sparkle of amusement in his eyes.
“honestly? not yet,” you say, and his sigh is long-suffering, but he lets you continue mapping the expanse of his back, even as his ears turn slightly red.
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mammon moves quickly, catching you before you fall. “hey, be careful! i don’t need a human splatter stain at the bottom of the stairs.”
“thanks,” you say, gripping his arm. “that was a close one!”
“and that’s why you need to pay attention, idiot,” he scowls.
“i don’t really need to, not if you’re always here to save me,” you say slyly, giving his biceps a nice squeeze. dang, he’s packing some surprising muscle there!
“well,” mammon says, as his chest fulls up with pride, “i know i’m great and all, but i won’t always be there. and hey, stop that!” he swats your hand away form his arm, and you grin.
“sorry, sorry, i was just impressed by your muscles.”
his brows raise and his ego swells. “oh, well, in that case,” he says with a booming laugh, holding his arm out to you. “feel all you want! i’m the great mammon, after all! it should only be expected that i come with great, impressive muscles too!”
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levi shakes you, trying to wake you up.
“five more minutes,” you groan, not even opening your eyes, and he frowns.
“you were the one who told me to wake you.”
“that wasn’t me,” you deny. “that was evil me. evil me who ahtes current me. five more minutes.”
“no, you’ve got to get up now,” levi continues, and is stopped by your hand landing blindly on his face, covering his mouth.
“shhh,” you insist, and he sits there, frozen, as your hand moves down from his mouth, to his neck and collarbone. fingers ghosting over this adam’s apple, you stroke his skin, making him flush, and seriously, what kind of dreams are you having now to be making that face?!?
with a great deal of effort, levi moves your hand from where it’s traveling dangerously close to his chest and shakes you hard. “get up!” he says, quickly, and this time it works.
“huh? oh, levi. thanks for waking me,” you say, stretching. “why is your face all red? did something happen?”
“n-no!” he almost shouts, taking a few steps back. “will you just get out of bed?”
“i’m coming, i’m coming,” you say, pushing the covers back. “man, i was having a great dream, too!”
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leviathans-watching's work - please do noto copy, repost, or claim as your own
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idksmtms · 2 months
Text
Golden Globes - Cillian Murphy x reader
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Summary: Written from the perspective of press and viewers of the golden globes; how cute are Cillian Murphy and his girlfriend Y/n L/n?! From the red carpet to his acceptance speech, look at what a mesmerising couple these two make!
Word count: 2,250
Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, very slight profanity, mostly just fluff (please let me know if I missed any) 
Disclaimer: This is written purely for fictional purposes and for the sake of writing. No disrespect is intended to the real people portrayed/concerned in this scenario. 
AN: Inspired by Yvonne and Cillian actually being the cutest couple ever at the Golden Globes. Also, if you catch the sneaky Succession reference: mwah! Edit: Just watched an interview clip where he says everyone calls him Cill as his nickname and I will be gratuitously using that from now on.
Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :) 
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Part 1: Red Carpet 
“And next to arrive onto the red carpet is Cillian Murphy! He’s a favourite to win the Golden Globe for Best Actor in a Drama Motion Picture, and I mean, rightly so, he killed it in Oppenheimer!” 
“Right?! And I have to say, whoever styled him tonight knew what they were doing, because mmm chef’s kiss right there.” 
“For real, but knowing him he probably grabbed an old suit out of his closet and put it on, hahahah.” 
“I bet he wishes, but Y/n would never let him, and there she is! Oh look how stunning she looks! For all our viewers who are unaware, that’s Y/n L/n, Cillian Murphy’s girlfriend and the other half of our favourite couple!” 
“Is that a vintage Schiaparelli?! Um, someone did not come to play. Aw, look how cute they are, he refuses to let go of her hand. I want a man like that.” 
“The way he smiles at her?! You can really tell they love each other, and awwww she’s blushing!!! You guyssssss, I can’t handle this.” 
“Hahahah, she’s forcing him to go out and strut his stuff, how sweet. That’s the definition of a supportive partner right there, always wanting you to have your moment to shine.” 
“Honestly, and like, I know we’re supposed to be watching Cillian but guys look how SHE watches him. That’s true love right there, and no one can convince me otherwise.” 
“D’you remember that interview where he talked about the little gifts she gets him at the end of each of his movies?” 
“Oh my god yeah, that was adorable, she makes him something small to remember each of his movies, like she knits or crochets or crafts something for him right?” 
“Yeah, exactly, well apparently, since this was his sixth movie with Nolan, she made the little tokens for all the producers and like the lead team. I was in TEARS when I heard, because who is that sweet? Like who is THAT sweet to their partner’s whole team?” 
“I didn’t know that, oh my god, I love her even more. No wonder Cillian loves her, I get it, I fully support it.” 
“Ok, seems like Cillian’s done getting his pictures taken and- aw! He’s looking for her! Cillian, bestie, she’s right there, ok ok ok, they found each other. Look at that hug!” 
“A man who adjusts the train of your dress like that to help you walk easier??? That is a man worth having, and Cillian Murphy is clearly the best man. Gosh look at the way she leans into him when they walk, and he’s just rubbing her back all soft and sweet, aaaaa I think I’m gonna melt.” 
“Oo! Ok, they’re going for interviews and the next person to come up is…” 
Part 1.2: Interview 
“Hi Cillian! How are you feeling tonight?” 
“I’m doing well thank you, a little nervous I guess, how are you?” 
“I’m great! Having a lot of fun here at the Golden Globes! How did you enjoy the red carpet? Any chance to meet others yet?” 
“Yeah, it’s grand, very… opulent, heh, and no! Unfortunately I haven’t had a chance to properly greet anyone yet, but I’m sure when we get inside I’ll have plenty of time for that.” 
“Alright, let’s talk about your movie for a bit, how does it feel to see all the recognition it’s getting?” 
“It feels deserved, you know? Everyone worked so hard on that film and put in a hundred and ten percent and it feels like people have really noticed it and seen not only the talent but the effort the team put in.” 
“Were you expecting such resounding fame for the movie?” 
“I mean, I definitely knew at least some people would watch it because Chris made it, hahaha, and people have recognised how amazing he is, but I guess you never really know how popular a movie is going to be until it comes out. But it’s truly amazing to see how it resonated with audiences.” 
“You’ve spoken in past interviews about the importance of a strong and accepting support system for people in this line of work, how did such an intense movie fit into your life?” 
“I mean, I treated it like I treat all my roles - it is a job at the end of the day - but it’s always great to have my family willing to put up with odd schedules and having to be away from home for long periods of time. My girlfriend, heh, she’s actually really great with this stuff. She always makes sure to call me while I’m away, she comes to visit as often as she can, and she just has this way of making anywhere feel like home, you know? Regardless of where I am, or what I’m doing, I can count on her, and that’s probably the best part of my life. It’s a really bad habit of hers but she stays up late with me if I have an oddly timed call or interview or whatever, just to be there with me.” 
“Aw, that’s so sweet! It’s amazing the way you talk about her, she sounds like a great person!” 
“She really really is. I mean, there’s some people out there who are just blessed with the biggest hearts and even just their presence can make life better, you know? And that’s her. I don’t know where I would be without her in my life to be honest with you.” 
“Oh how cute! Well, we’ll let you go, tell your girlfriend how much we love her, and good luck with your award tonight!” 
“Thank you.” 
Part 2: The Main Event 
“And the Golden Globe goes to… Cillian Murphy!” You let out a rather unholy shriek that you were sure would be caught on camera and posted all over, but you were too excited to care. You jumped up, grabbing Cillian by his shoulders and pressing your lips to his mouth and face, over and over until there were lipstick smudges across his nose. 
“You did it Cill! You did it,” you whispered, rubbing at his face to try and wipe away the lipstick. He had the lightest red splotches across his nose and cheek but they mixed into the flush on his skin so you let him be after a moment. Your face hurt from smiling, your whole body buzzing because finally, finally, he had gotten the recognition he had long deserved. 
“Oh boy, my first question, do I have lipstick all over my nose? Ah, I’m just gonna leave it. Um, I-I knew the first time that I walked on Chris Nolan’s set that it was different. I could tell by the level of rigour, the level of focus, the level of dedication, the complete lack of any seating options for actors, heheh, that it was-that I was in the hands of a visionary director and master. I wanna thank Chris, and Emma, for having the faith in me for-for twenty years, and six feckin pictures! So, thanks so much. Um, one of the most beautiful and vulnerable things about being an actor is that you can’t do it on your own, really, and we had the most incredible ensemble cast in this movie, it was magic, and some of them are here today. Emily Blunt, Robert Downey Jr, Matt Damon, Gary Oldman, thank you for carrying me and holding me through this movie. Um, thank you to- thank you! Uh, thank you to Dara Langley, and everyone at Universal for believing in this movie from the very beginning. Uh, oh! To all my fellow nominees - if you’re Irish or not - you’re all legends, stunning work guys, I salute you. Um, to all my reps, all my team, uh thank you so much you’re the best. To my girlfriend, you are the light of my life, the love I couldn’t live without, thank you for always being there. To my family, I’m the luckiest man, I love you, thanks so much guys!” 
Part 3: Top Ten 
“Hello everyone and welcome back to the ATN News youtube channel! Today we are looking at our top ten favourite Cillian Murphy moments from the Golden Globes and spoiler alert: they all have something to do with his girlfriend because, let’s face it guys, they’re our favourite unproblematic power couple! Just a reminder that we did similar videos for some other celebrities so you can check them out on our channel but let’s get started! 
Number 1: When they were walking into the hall and he held her purse for her! This is a personal favourite because I love someone who notices the little things, and the fact that he just kinda slipped it from her hands?? Cuteness overload. 
Number 2: This one is my personal favourite. During the break, the camera was just kinda moseying around and it caught them whispering to each other and just laughing. Look at how lovey dovey they are, leaning against each other, just whispering in each other’s ears. I really wanna know what they’re saying because I’m sure they are the most hilarious people on earth, but it’s also so intimate that I don’t wanna disturb them, you know? And she’s holding his hand in her lap aaaa! I have to move on otherwise I’m just gonna sit here and watch this all day. 
Number 3: Ok, at number three we have the couple’s red carpet glam moment! After getting some solo pictures taken, Cillian had Y/n walk the carpet with him and they slayed. I mean they slayyyyyed. Their outfits were amazing, their chemistry was amazing, their poses were amazing just- amazing. The fact that she did the little heel kick in one of the pictures?? Iconic. Cillian, Y/n, if you guys are looking for recommendations I would frame the picture where Y/n’s kissing the air just before Cillian’s cheek, it’s funny and it’s cute. 
Number 4: This is a moment from an interview he gave where they asked him about life with Y/n, take a listen. 
“You know she’s just the best. We both have our own strengths at home and I think they fit together so well and it just works perfectly. Like, I’m terrible at D.I.Y. Just absolutely hopeless, and good or not, she’s tenacious. If she starts a project for the house, no matter how hard, she will learn what to do and she will finish it. It’s inspiring honestly. Just every little thing she does inspires me.” 
Number 5: Halfway through and this might also be my personal favourite (agh I can’t choose!). When Y/n fed Cillian something from her plate?? Guys, when I saw that, I kid you not I almost melted. She just gently taps his shoulder, lifts her fork to his mouth, and feeds him. Was he too nervous to eat?? Did she notice and make sure he ate something?? Or is that just something they do? Like if you walked into their house at a random dinner time she might just randomly feed him something?? Either way, it was cute and I bet they make everyone sick with their love and I’m here for it. 
Number 6: Another simple one, but when he sat back with his arm over her chair? He just kinda leaned to the side and put his arm on the back of her chair and she just kinda shifted closer into his side- and they didn’t even stop their conversations with other people! They just did it! Being that intune with someone is just nghdhm. I have no words. 
Number 7: Alright, so some fan pics came out after the event of the couple leaving the venue, and look at this, he’s carrying her shoes for her!!! The pictures are a little grainy, but you can clearly see him holding the heels that she was wearing during the event while they walk to the car. She’s even carrying his award for him, what a bunch of cutiepies!
Number 8:  Another one from the fan pics - and another personal favourite (leave me alone) - is those cuties dancing on the street! I think it’s near their house and the pictures capture him twirling her, and they’re both laughing so much and then they’re hugging and Cillian’s just swaying her (all while holding that Golden Globe mind you) and they just look so happy and in love. Brb, I need something to tackle this overdose of cute. 
Number 9: Our second last moment is when Y/n kissed Cillian right before he went up to accept his award! Just, the scream, the kiss, the lipstick on his face, all of it is so perfect. And the fact that he left it on his face while giving his speech? Our king, have no shame, proudly show her love! 
Number 10: And of course, the final favourite has to be Cillian’s speech. He was funny, he was gracious, and honestly? It was perfect. If my boyfriend called me the light of his life in a room full of famous people, on a live broadcast that like millions of people are watching, I would probably just start proposing to him at that moment. Like he really said “the love I couldn’t live without” can you imagine that kind of devotion?! I want that. 
Anyway! Thanks for watching our top ten Cillian Murphy moments. Don’t forget to like and subscribe!” 
AN: Yes, I did transcribe his whole acceptance speech. No further questions.
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elliesflwrgirl · 10 months
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cw, top!ellie, bottom!reader, jealous!ellie strap on usage (r receiving), dirty talk, public sex, bathroom sex, petnames (sweet girl, baby, etc)
summary: college!ellie and u go to dinner with some friends, one of which ellie is incredibly jealous of, so jealous bathroom sex! who cheered? i know i did.
if u enjoy this like and reblog please!! love u.
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you and ellie had been going out for about a year now, everyone in your friend group knew from the moment ellie had laid eyes on you that you were completely and utterly hers. and you were more than okay with that. ellie has always been jealous when it came to you, so everybody knew not to get too touchy with you. well, besides the new girl in the group, cassie.
according to ellie, cassie was always gawking at your ass, or staring at you for a second too long. you hadn’t noticed, and neither did any of your other friends. ellie made the conscious decision to never let you hang out with her without ellie being with you. you thought it was cute how protective she was over you, always defending you, always there to back you up.
when you told ellie you guys were invited to a dinner with your friends she politely declined, as she normally does, ellie’s not really into the whole socializing thing. but, when you mentioned cassie would be there, suddenly she was all about this dinner.
the second you guys walked into the restaurant ellie’s arm wrapped around your waist and she kept you close, you knew this was all out of jealousy, but it also was extremely hot to you. to watch her get so possessive.
you made your way to the table, ellie sitting directly beside you and cassie and dina sitting across from you guys. jesse was running late, as always. “we missed you guys,” you beam and ellie nods her head as her hand finds its way to your thigh. she loved when you wore this black dress, it rode up on your thighs when you sat and she thought it was making room for her hand.
“god we missed you, you’ve been like a little hermit crab all cooped up in your apartment.” cassie says and you laugh, but ellie does not. she gives a cocky smile and mutters, “we’ve been busy fucking.” which nobody heard besides you but it still made your cheeks feel hot. ellie grinned seeing you get all flustered, she rubbed her thumb back and forth over your thigh.
“well, how’ve you been?” you ask the table and dina fills you in on the latest about her and jesse’s on and off relationship, and cassie tells you she about her day to day, nerding out about classes and whatnot. and as she talked ellie’s hand slid further and further up your dress. “anyway, how’s life been for you?” as cassie asks you feel ellie’s finger slowly run up your clothed cunt.
“uh,” you struggle to think for a moment as ellie slowly tortures you with a slow up and down motion of her fingertip. “it’s been so good,” you give a short answer and ellie grins beside you. “why don’t you tell them about the art museum we went to last weekend baby?”
you stare at her with a pissed smile as she pulls your underwear to the side, “i’d love to hear about it.” cassie beams and you nod your head. “yeah, um we saw so many… uh,” you lose train of thought as ellie slowly circles her fingers over your clit. “so many what?” ellie teases and you gently push your hips against her fingers, “so many gorgeous paintings,”
dina looks between the two of you and furrows her brows, “you alright?” she asks you and you nod quickly, “i’m okay.” you answer quickly. ellie grins as she teases your entrance with her fingers. “she’s just kinda foggy today, she didn’t get much sleep. we were up late.” she tells them while somehow making it abundantly obvious exactly why you two were up so late.
you bite your lip to stop a soft whimper from coming out, “i’ve gotta go to the bathroom.” you say suddenly and ellie looks at you. almost a silent confirmation that you want her to meet you in there.
you slide out from the booth, quickly walking to the bathroom. you squeeze your thighs together as you lean up against the wall, waiting for ellie.
she comes in a couple moments later, and as soon as you see her you pull her close. you grab the waistband of her pants and pull her to you, smashing her lips against yours. her hands find your waist and grip at your hips, as she pushes you up against the wall. she kisses down your jaw, lightly nipping as she does. “i can’t stand the way she looks at you,” she whispers as she leaves dark hickeys all down your neck.
you whimper softly as you lean your head against the tile of the bathroom. anybody could walk in and see this dirty sight but you couldn’t care less. ellie’s hand pushes your dress up past your hips, thrusting her hips up against yours. making you feel the silicon beneath her jeans. she pulls your dress off your shoulders, laying sloppy kisses on the tops of your boobs and on your shoulders.
you quickly start undoing her jeans and she grins against your neck, “someone’s needy.” she teases and you eagerly tug down her jeans, revealing her strap. ellie pushes your underwear to the side as she gently circles her fingers over your clit. you wrap your legs around her waist and pull her close.
you grab her strap and align it with you as she thrusts into you. a moan leaves your lips and your hands bury themselves in her short hair. “you always take me so well, sweet girl.” she murmurs into your neck and you whine softly. “faster,” you beg and she thrusts into you faster and deeper. you claw at her shoulders and bury your head in her neck.
“fuck els—“ you whine softly and she grins, “i know baby, your doing so good for me, taking it like a good girl.” she praises and you moan into her neck.
she grips your thighs tight, nails digging into them, “wish cassie could see us right now, see how much of a complete and utterly useless slut you are for me, wish she could watch me fuck you dumb.” she mumbles and you toss your head back against the tile, “oh my god—“ you whimper as ellie hits that spongy spot deep inside of you.
“just like that, god, don’t stop.” you moan quietly and ellie watches as your eyes roll back, the way your body completely relaxes as she fucks into you. “nobody else can fuck you like this, nobody else can make you feel this good, isn’t that right?” ellie murmurs in your ear and you nod.
“say it.” she urges and you whine softly, “nobody else fucks me like this— god,” you whine as ellie hits that spot again, “only you can make me feel this good— fuck i’m so close” you moan loudly and a cocky grin spreads over her face, “that’s right, sweet girl.”
ellie watches as your body completely collapses against hers as you cum, profanities leave your lips along with ellie’s name.
ellie kisses your forehead and gently pulls out of you. “did so good for me baby.” she hums as she zips her pants back up. you tug your dress back down as your legs shake slightly. “how am i gonna cover these up, els?” you groan as you see the red marks down your neck. “don’t.” she grins.
.·:*¨¨* ・❥・ ≈☆≈ ・❥・*¨¨*:·.
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fan-fantasies · 2 years
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Fake It
Please comment and reblog! I’d appreciate it!
A/N: I apologize for my absence but life is roundhouse kicking my ass right now. But I’m super excited about this piece!
Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader
Warnings: smut! Dom!eddie, spitting, name calling (both sweet and dirty- slut), unprotected sex, daddy kink!, creampie, mentions of porn
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“Maybe it’s me; maybe I’m broken,” you sighed to Robin. She simply rolled her eyes as she continued to sort through the return stack.
“It’s not you- guys just suck,” she said.
“Hey!” Steve yelled from the back.
“Maybe you shouldn’t eavesdrop then!” You yelled back.
“Maybe you guys should just speak louder!”
“Oh my god, I’m gonna kill him,” you mumbled. “Seriously, Robin- is it to much to ask for a guy to make me feel good? He doesn’t even have to make me cum, just make me feel something!”
“Eh-hem.” The sudden clearing of a throat made you jump as you whipped around to see a flustered Eddie Munson standing awkwardly at the counter.
“Shit!”
“Munson! What’s up, man?” Steve said with a smile, emerging from the back.
“N-not a whole lot. Looking to see if you got any new releases in,” he said, his eyes not leaving you the whole time.
“(Y/N) definitely hasn’t,” Robin mumbled. You threw an empty case at her which she easily dodged.
“Um, yeah, let me check the back. I think I did see some new titles.”
Steve wandered to the back, leaving you flustered in front of Eddie. He stared at his shoes and rocked back and forth, not really sure what to say to you.
“I think I’m gonna go help Steve,” Robin said before heading off. You tried to catch her attention and tell her no but she purposely didn’t look back at you.
She was the only one that knew about your crush on the metalhead, although she claimed it was obvious by the way you became a flustered mess any time he was around. Despite him being one of the kindest people you had ever met, you were always too scared to make a move. So that’s why you settled for less than mediocre dates with far less than mediocre guys.
“So, uh, any plans for the weekend?” You asked, trying to break the horrible tension.
“Just gonna hang out and watch some movies,” Eddie answered.
“Right, right. Of course,” you mumbled, mentally facepalming yourself.
“Why do you ask?” He asked.
“Just curious! I think I’m gonna go see what’s taking those two idiots so long.”
Before Eddie could say anything else, you booked it to the back. You crashed into Robin and Steve who were listening behind the curtain that closed off the back room from the counter.
“What the fuck is taking you guys so long?” You whispered.
“We we’re having too much fun listening to you crash and burn out there,” Steve snickered. “I’m sure if you asked him to hang out, he would say yes.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” You have Robin a death glare but she threw up her hands.
“I didn’t say anything!”
“Yeah, it’s just really obvious,” Steve chuckled. “Here, bring him this.”
Steve shoved you back out there with the tape in your hands.
“Did they get lost or something?” Eddie asked with a small smile.
“Pretty hard to find things when they have their heads shoved up each other’s asses,” you said loud enough for them to hear.
Eddie let out a loud laugh and it made your heart jump up your throat. He looked down at the tape in your hand and reached for it.
“For me?”
“Oh, yeah,” you nodded. You rang him out and handed him the tape. “I’ll see you around.”
“I’m counting on it,” he smiled.
“Why are the guys around here so boring?” You asked to no one in particular.
“I’m not boring!” Steve scoffed.
“Yeah okay,” you laughed. “What’s the most adventurous things you’ve done in bed?”
“Well…I… I’ve used a scarf?”
“A scarf?” You repeated.
“Were you cold?” Robin asked.
“No, I wasn’t cold! We used it as a blindfold,” he said sheepishly.
“I highly doubt you’ve blindfolded a girl,” you challenged.
“I never said she was the one blindfolded,” he said with a smirk.
“Harrington!” Robin gasped. Steve wiggled his eyebrows as you fake gagged.
“I can be a…what’s the new term kids are using these days…oh right, I can be daddy.” Steve tried to purr but failed miserably.
“You give off more of a mommy vibe,” you said. “You and your scarf of mystery.”
“Yeah, that’s not exactly kinky, Steve. Grandparents are using blindfolds these days,” Robin added.
“Yeah, why do you think they like knitting so much?” The three of you jumped when you heard the voice interrupt. Eddie stood there with a very amused expression on his devilishly handsome face.
“That’s gross,” Steve scowled.
“Thought it was kinky?” You laughed. Steve rolled his eyes before turning back to Eddie.
“(Y/N), here, was just saying how all the guys around here are boring in bed. Care to weigh in?”
“Steve!” You smacked his arm. “That’s not exactly appropriate to ask a customer.”
“A customer? Ouch. And here I was thinking we were friends,” Eddie said, holding his hand to his chest.
“We are friends,” you mumbled, rather embarrassed.
“Good,” Eddie beamed. He slid his return across the desk. “And I can promise you that not all the guys in this town are boring.”
Eddie sent you a wink before heading back out the door. Your jaw dropped as his words spun in your head. Robin ever so gently closed your mouth for you.
“Didn’t want you to catch any flies,” she chuckled.
“I bet he’s never used a scarf,” Steve grumbled angrily. “Maybe I should take up knitting.”
The next time you saw Eddie was at a small get together that Steve and Robin threw together last minute. You weren’t expecting him to be there but he was a part of the group now so you didn’t know why you didn’t think of it.
You sat in the kitchen with Nancy and Robin, lamenting about your recent and pitiful sexual conquests.
“Two dates, two duds- I literally have the worst luck!” You sighed. “I mean, is it too much to ask for a guy to eat me out and spit in my mouth?”
Nancy’s eyes widened as she looked behind you. You froze in your spot, not wanting to turn around.
“H-hey, Eddie,” Robin tried to smile awkwardly. You closed your eyes and sucked in a breath. Why was it always him?
“Hey, ladies,” he coughed. “Mind if I grab a drink?”
“Go for it,” Nancy said.
Eddie moved around you and reached across you to the drinks you were sat in front of. His eyes dropped down to your lips for a split second before moving back up to your eyes.
“Hi, (y/n),” he said loud enough for only you to hear. You swore you saw a smirk on his lips but your mind went into overdrive and you had to focus solely on breathing and not passing out.
“Earth to (y/n)? Can you move so we can grab a drink?” Dustin yelled from behind Eddie.
“I got it, man,” Eddie said, reaching across you again. His body was pressed to your side as he poured a couple drinks for his friends. His scent invaded your senses as you felt the heat from his body blanket your own. You didn’t realize your fluttered closed until he cleared his throat. “You okay?”
“Y-yeah,” you stuttered.
“You sure? I could bring you home if you’re not feeling well,” he offered.
“No! I’m good, I swear.”
“If you say so,” he chuckled. He gave you one last look-over before he finally retreated to the other room and you thought Nancy and Robin were going to double over in laughter.
“You know…Eddie might just be the solution to your little problem. He’s probably a freak in more places than just the streets,” Robin said with a wink.
“You’re insane!”
“She’s right! He’s totally into you and everyone knows you’re head over heels for him-“
“What do you mean everyone knows?” You shrieked.
“I’m just saying, you don’t exactly hide it well,” Nancy said. You rolled your eyes at your ridiculous friends and went back to sipping your drink.
You couldn’t get the image of Eddie out of your head for the rest of the night. By the time you got home, you were a mess, and not the kind you wanted to be. You settled into your bed for a long night of frustrating attempts to seek a release, one that never came.
“It has to be me; I’m definitely broken. If I can’t even fuck myself how can I expect anyone else to?” You sighed to Robin on the other end of the phone.
“Sounds like there’s something blocking that part of your brain. It’s probably that fact that you’re lusting over a certain metalhead whom you refuse to make a move on,” she said. You groaned and threw yourself back on your bed.
“He doesn’t want me,” you told her.
“You never know until you ask.”
“Yeah well I’m never gonna ask so just drop it. Please?” You pleaded.
“…fine…I’m gonna bring a care package over to your place later and we can hang out and take your mind off of things, okay?” She said.
“Sounds good. I’ll see you later.”
You hung up with your friend and stared at your ceiling. You needed to figure something out soon or you were going to combust.
Hours passed and you almost forgot Robin’s promise to stop over. You were in nothing but an oversized tshirt and your panties, not shy in front of your lifelong friend. When you heard the doorbell ring, you thought nothing of it as you bounded down the stairs toward the front door.
“Rob- oh my god!” You froze as you saw someone who was definitely not Robin Buckley standing outside your door. “Eddie?”
“Sorry…I thought Robin told you I was coming?”
You looked at the bag in his hands, filled with some of your favorite items, and everything started to click.
“I’m gonna kill her,” you mumbled under your breath.
“What was that?”
“Oh, nothing! Thanks so much for bringing this for her, you really didn’t have to go through all the trouble.”
You tried to grab the bag from his hand and close the door but his grip was tight and his stance unwavering.
“She also told me I have to stay here and make sure you relax sooo do you mind if I come in, sweetheart?” He asked, already pushing past you and into your house.
“Sure?”
“Folks aren’t home yet?” He asked, taking a look around. You stood dumbfounded in your doorway, his question snapping you back to reality.
“They’re out of town visiting friends for the week,” you answered. You closed the door behind you and went to grab the bag but he stopped you.
“Not so fast, beautiful. I need to quality check the items first.”
You didn’t think anything of it until Eddie started to pull out a wide array of items-
a box of your favorite candy, some lotion, a scarf. You were confused by the selection but nothing mortified you more than what Eddie pulled out next.
“Talk dirty to me, parts one and two,” Eddie said with a huge smile.
“Oh my god!” You snatched the pornos out of his hands and threw them back in the bag.
“Damn, when Robin said you needed to relax, I guess she wasn’t kidding,” he laughed.
“Okay, I’m thoroughly embarrassed and ready to crawl under a rock so you can go now,” you said, trying to pull him toward the door by his arm. He pulled you back flush against his chest.
“Not so fast, sweetheart. That’s no way to treat a house guest, now is it?” The deep rumble of his voice sent a shiver down your spine.
“N-no,” you whispered.
“No what?”
“No…sir?”
“Good girl,” he smiled. He backed you against the wall, your heart beating a mile a minute. “Do you want me to help you relax?”
“Yes, sir,” you said without even having to think.
“Do you trust me?” He asked.
“Of course,” you said with a faint smile on your lips. You trusted Eddie more than you trusted most people and you knew he would take care of you.
He grabbed the bag and led you to your bedroom. You were nervous, not because it was Eddie, but because part of you really did believe you were broken and you didn’t want to be a disappointment to Eddie.
Eddie must’ve sensed your nerves because he turned to you and grabbed both your hands, looking you in the eyes.
“We don’t have to do anything, you know? We can just hang out o-or I can just leave…”
“No! No, don’t go. I’m just in my head a little, that’s all,” you sighed. He brought the back of your hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to it.
“I’ve got you; please don’t worry,” he said. You simply nodded before letting him grab the hem of your shirt and lift it over your head. His eyes scanned your bare torso with nothing but adoration in his eyes. He left your panties on as he laid you down on your bed. You heard the bag rustle and the scent of lavender soon filled your nose.
“Just try and relax, baby,” he said softly. He rubbed the lotion together in his hands to warm it up before gentle squeezing your shoulders and running his hands down your back. He worked your tense muscles under his calloused hands, making you melt almost instantly.
The lower his hands went, the tighter the coil went in your stomach, just begging for release. He worked on your thighs, squeezing your ass in the process. His hands lingered on your ass for a minute before they slid back up to your shoulders.
You wriggled your hips uncomfortably, preferring he would’ve shown your aching pussy some much needed attention.
Eddie got impatient with your moving so he straddled your waist and pinned your hips down with his.
“Just try and enjoy this, sweetheart,” he said.
“I’d enjoy something else a lot more,” you groaned. He hit a particularly tense spot and you moaned as he massaged the knot. You felt him shift, pressing more into your ass. You let breathy whimpers fall from your lips as he started to grind his hips against you.
“Eddie, please,” you whined.
“Please, what, baby? Ask daddy nicely,” he said. The way he said that with no shame, completely confident and in control, made your mouth go dry. He stopped the movement of his hips- “I won’t ask again.”
“P-please touch me, daddy,” you begged.
“I am touching you, love,” he chuckled.
“No, I want you to fuck me!”
He moved back and slapped your ass, making you yelp.
“Watch the attitude before I fuck it out of you,” he warned.
“If you can,” you mumbled under your breath. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back.
“What was that?” He growled in your ear.
“I don’t think you can fuck me that hard, daddy,” you challenged. He let out a dark chuckle.
“Of course you’re a fucking brat,” he laughed. “I should’ve guessed. Maybe that’s why no other little boys in this town could satisfy you. You needed a man to know how to handle you, baby. Is that it?”
His other hand snaked it’s way into your panties; he was delighted to find out just how wet you already were for him.
“Yes, please. I need you!”
“There’s your manners; what a good girl.”
“Mm, yes. I’m a good girl, I’m your good girl,” you mumbled incoherently as he started to rub slow circles on your clit.
“That’s what I thought,” he said with a smug smirk.
You were trying to grind against his hand, trying to get more stimulation but he wasn’t having it. You were flipped onto your back and panties were ripped from your body, exposing your slick pussy to Eddie. He reached over to the bag and grabbed the scarf that you were suspecting Steve had something to do with.
“Since you have a problem with holding still-“ he grabbed your wrists and tied them with the scarf, putting them over your head. “Don’t. Move.”
“Yes, daddy,” you whispered.
Eddie crawled down so he was eye level with your pussy and it was hard not to move with anticipation. You needed him to touch you, to do anything, but you certainly weren’t expecting him to dive in and eat your pussy like a starving man.
“Eddie!” You shrieked. Your hands flew down to his hair and he immediately stopped.
“This is your one warning, babe,” he said as he threw your hands back up.
He turned his attention back to your clit, giving it kitten licks with his tongue. He would tease it at your entrance, only to return to your sensitive bundle of nerves. He was quickly bringing you to the brink of an orgasm, faster than you’ve ever gotten yourself there.
“Fuck, please. Please make me cum,” you whined. “Use your fingers.”
“You’re in no place to be making demands, princess,” he chuckled, his chin glistening. “The only thing going inside you tonight is my cock.”
His words alone were enough to build a fire in your stomach. He gripped your hips and pulled you flush with his face and you were certain he wasn’t even breathing. He ravaged his pussy with his tongue. Your head was swimming but you tried your best not to move, terrified he would stop and wouldn’t let you come. What a cruel punishment that would be- the only man to ever even bring you close to an orgasm only to take it away because you disobeyed.
The closer you came to the edge, the louder you chanted his name. He focused solely on your clit, providing enough pressure to finally push you over the edge. Your body convulsed as a powerful orgasm crashed over you. He didn’t let you go however, continuing to lap at your pussy as you came.
Once he was satisfied with his work, he crawled over your body and you expected him to kiss you but he didn’t. Instead, he tapped your jaw and said, “open.”
Your eyes widened more than your mouth when he spit directly onto your tongue. He didn’t even have to ask you to swallow, just smiled with pride as you did.
“Somebody listens,” you said with a smirk.
“Of course. How else am I gonna please my girl?” He asked. Your brain short circuited when he called you that but you played it cool.
“That was amazing, Eddie,” you sighed happily.
“Did you think I was done with you yet? I told you, the only thing inside you tonight is gonna be my cock. So if it’s okay with you, I’d like to feel just how well you take my cock,” he said with a devilish grin.
“Do I get to lose the scarf?” You asked.
“Only because you were such a good girl for daddy.”
He untied you and threw it to the side of the bed. He finally took off his shirt and jeans, leaving him in his underwear. You could see the outline of his cock straining against the fabric and it made your mouth water.
You reached toward the hem of his underwear and he let you take them off. You ran your fingers along his length, as if memorizing every detail.
You leaned forward and he stopped you. Your heart nearly stopped, thinking you did something wrong.
“I just can’t wait to feel your pussy, baby. That’s all,” he reassured you.
“Please, daddy? I just wanna taste you.”
“Are you questioning me? You take what daddy gives you and then you thank him.”
He lined up with your entrance, gathering your slick on his head.
“Daddy thinks quite highly of himself,” you teased.
“God, maybe I should fuck your mouth just to shut you up,” he growled.
“You won’t,” you challenged further.
Without warning, he slammed balls deep into you.
“You’re right. I won’t. Greedy little sluts don’t get what they want. You’re gonna get used however I want. I’m gonna fuck your pussy until you can’t even think of walking. You’re gonna milk my cock until I fill you with my cum.”
You were left breathless at his relentless thrusts but still managed to croak out a moan when he said that.
“Oh you like that, dirty girl? Of course you do. Letting me fuck you raw. You’re gonna let me cum so deep inside you, yeah?” His head fell into the crook of your neck as you raked his back with your nails.
“Daddy, I’m so close. Can I cum? Please, daddy, let me cum,” you cried. Literal tears formed in your eyes as you felt the coil tighten in your stomach once more.
“Shit, what a good girl. Fuck, didn’t even have to tell you to ask permission,” he grunted. “Cum, sweetheart. Cum all over my cock.”
The tears flowed freely as your vision went white and all you could hear was static for a second before returning to reality. Eddie fucked you through your orgasm- trying so hard to keep his rhythm while close to cumming himself.
“Ohh fuck!” A few more thrusts and he was emptying into you, spreading a warmth throughout your entire body.
He pulled out slowly, watching his cum leak out of you, down your shaking thighs, and onto your now ruined bed sheets.
“Shit, are you okay?” He asked, wiping the tears from your face.
“Yeah, sorry. That was just…I’m speechless. Phenomenal doesn’t even begin to describe it,” you said.
“You mean it?” He asked. His overconfident facade melted away and it made your heart swell.
“Eddie, that was everything I could’ve asked for and more.” You placed a gentle hand on his face and he leaned into your touch.
“I haven’t even kissed you yet,” he chuckled.
“Did you want to?”
“I would like to kiss you every day if I got the chance,” he admitted.
“I think that could be arranged,” you said before pressing your lips to his in a sweet kiss.
“You’re gonna have to learn to obey your daddy then,” he told you.
“Yeah, good luck with that,” you laughed.
“That’s okay, sweetheart. That just means I get to punish you and fuck you ten times harder.”
“That better be a promise, not a threat.”
“God, you’re perfect.” He kissed you again and pulled you on top of his chest. “Get plenty of rest, sweet girl. Tomorrow we’re having a whole date day to make up for this unceremonious rendezvous.”
“We can return the scarf to Steve,” you chuckled.
“And you can thank Robin for setting this up.”
“Yeah…I should thank her…right after I kill her for embarrassing me so much.”
“It worked out, didn’t it?” He retorted.
“I guess it did,” you said with a smile. “Now that I know you can make me cum, I’m never letting you go.”
“I’ll make you cum every goddamn day if it means I get to keep you.”
———————
Taglist: @mellomadness @munsaniac @thebookbakery @mrsdarcyinlovewithbuckybarnes @rafecameronswhore @dootys @tiredwritersworld @lily-sinclair-2006 @dylanobriens-love @moonbeampillgoth @lady-hellfire-1985 @lagataprrr @whore-of-many-hot-men @crimsonsabbath @moldy-khunt @wheaty-melon
Sorry if I missed anyone! I was trying to rush!
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hischeapcigar · 9 months
Text
𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓌𝒷𝑒𝓇𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝒾𝑔𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓈 
Pre-outbreak Joel Miller x reader
Part: 1 2 3 4
Summary: you're falling in love with the person your dad hates the most 
Word count: 3.6k ish
Warning: none except your father is a bit deranged so maybe that's all
a/n: it was supposed to be cute little one shot but i think it's gonna be series lolol. reblogs and comments are appreciated. love you mwah
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Your dad hated Joel. You never knew why but it had been like this as far as you could think. Your father played the major role in trying his best to keep you away from Joel.  
BBQ party? Everyone's invited except Joel. 
Your birthday? Everyone but Joel 
He’s grumpy all day? Must've had an interaction with Joel  
He even hit Joel, who obviously retaliated but the neighbors showed up to resolve the matter.  
The whole neighborhood knew. How could they not? Your dad insulted him behind his back, which some entertained, but most of them grumbled and left the room. Because they knew Joel and they knew your dad too.  
Even you felt pity for Joel, the few rare interactions told you he may look big and fierce, but he was a charmer. Sarah’s happy face was proof of his kind nature and your anxious state of mind was a reflection of your dad’s nature.  
You once tried to defend Joel, but your father smashed the glass so hard, a sharp piece pierced the skin of your foot, leaving a scar. 
 Your parents always change the subject every time you try to bring it up,  
“Its past, it doesn’t matter,” they’d say 
But it mattered to you, a lot. Since the small get-together in the field the other night, when you first saw him. Sarah had lost track of his father, so you went looking for him with her, and that's when you first met him properly after like forever. 
Eyes locked and you swore brown became your favorite color. Your breath hitched; mouth slightly agape. He mirrored your reaction but both of you let go just as quickly, minding Sarah’s presence. They left but he turned back to bless his eyes one more time, stealing one more glance at you. The smile he slipped, held your heart forever. You prayed to the heavens to let you both meet again. 
 Working in the cafe which Sarah and her friends called their “second home”, you had befriended all those little girls. It was fun to be around them, and they loved your company. 
 You never officially met any of their parents but one of them captured your mind since that night. You didn't know what you could do without offending Sarah.  
But you didn't have to do anything, because Joel took the wheel as he showed up the next day in the cafe. Sunday meant Sarah and her friends were having breakfast together in their corner spot.  
 You came out from the kitchen, passing the tray of coffee to your coworker as you absentmindedly made your way to the counter, ruffling around with the drawer and all the papers.  
“Hey” your head shot up to the sound of the voice and the unmistakable familiarity it carried.  
“Hi” you replied breathlessly, hands frozen on the paper you just grabbed.  
“Um, can I please get a pancake?” his thick Texan accent flowed like honey, his eyes warm and eager. 
“Y-yeah, sure,” you could bet that you conjured him from your imaginations. Seeing him again in a person in less than a week was unbelievable 
You quickly turned around to pass the order to the kitchen window but stopped just as quick, lightly smacking your forehead as you returned to him,  
“Sorry, uh, which flavor would you like?” you cursed yourself for being so clumsy  
He tilted his head to the side, contemplating, before he turned on his good old charm, “su’prise me, sweetheart,” he smirked seeing the look on your face.  
Absolutely flustered at the nickname he just gave you, and how easily it rolled off his tongue.  
You smiled, mumbling a little, “okay,” before you disappeared in the back  
You took a moment, taking a deep breath steadying yourself. Hoping no one notices your flushed cheeks, and no one did.  
In a few minutes, you prepared yourself to serve him. Running a hand on your outfit once smoothing it, you took the tray and made your way to Joel. You were glad he busied himself reading a magazine because if he looked at you, you would have forgotten how to walk.  
“Hello again,” you announced, and he quickly abandoned whatever article he was reading,  
“Hey” he smiled, looking curiously at the pancake plate you just put down, followed by a cup of coffee 
“I didn’t order coffee-” 
“It's on the house, since we believe it's your first time and because your daughter is our loyal customer,” you snickered  
He chuckled, “I- thank you, so much, y’didn’t have to though”  
“Also, i chose strawberry flavor because it’s my favorite so I'm hoping you’d like it too,” you shrugged lightly before taking a step back, leaving him with his breakfast,  
Just as you turned to leave, you heard him call your name, and God that was the sweetest music to your ears. You had no idea how he knew your name, maybe sarah mentioned it, you figured 
You cocked an eyebrow,  
“You looked pretty that night”  
Your heart warmed at the confession, “thank you Joel, you looked great too” you smiled before you left 
You couldn't keep your eyes off of him. Every now and then your gaze found its way to Joel. Even after he caught you stealing glances, he just smirked. He knew what he was doing to you, you knew what you were doing to him. A game for two.  
You had your back on the counter, conversing with your coworker, when she pointed behind you. You turned to see Joel standing there, ready to leave.  
“Thank you once again, I loved the pancake, though I can’t tell if it's my favorite”  
“You could come by every week to try all the flavors until you find your preference” you suggested. Any excuse to bring him back.  
“Tryin’ all the flavors, huh? I had another reasons to come back anyway, might as well try all the other flavors” smile tugging at the corner of his smile 
Oh.  
Oh.  
You didn’t even get the chance to response when he added, “hey ya mind, if y’get the uh, the cup?” he nodded to his table 
“Yeah, sure” you were confused, why would he tell you what to do? 
You went anyway and now you know why as you looked at the tissue piece with his number scribbled in a messy handwriting  
Such a flirt. You smiled so widely your jaw hurt.  
“Is this Joel or some cute stranger left a wrong phone number on the table?”  
You read it for the thousandth time, indecisive if you should send it or is it a bold way to start a conversation. But then it’s Joel, he wouldn’t mind, you thought and hit send.  
Your heart was beating fast, wanting to throw your phone across the room. Checking every other second if he replied, then a few minutes later,  
J- “Stranger? I thought we were befriendin' each other”
you giggled at the response, feeling like a young teenager having her crush moment 
“Well, we’re getting there”  
J- “That so? Hope you realize your dad isn’t really my fan”  
 
“Yes, and I wonder why” curiosity creeping back up at you, 
J- “We got into a fight back then during a job we did, since then we just couldn’t get along”  
Now was that too hard to disclose? Your parents were just dramatic, you thought. 
Before typing your response, he started typing again so you waited,  
J- “Wish it doesn’t change our sweet journey of becoming friends”
you read his text, wide grin plastered on your face , though a little disappointed that he only wants friendship, but you felt giddy nevertheless 
The next week was the beginning of your new, fragile relationship. Joel would stop by at your cafe any chance he got.  
I missed my morning coffee (he missed it on purpose) 
I’m tired and I thought coffee might help (he just wanted to see you)  
Sarah and her friends wanted pancakes (he asked them, “you guys don’t have to go, I'll get you your order if you want” he’d say and gets “okay, Mr. Miller!” “that’s so kind, Mr. Miller”) 
Weeks went by, and you grew to his presence at random hours. You started to look forward to him showing up randomly. Your coworkers were quick to welcome him, noticing how your face would light up every time he was around.  
He made a three-day streak of visiting before he didn’t show up for 2 days. A part of you wanted to text him to find out if he was okay, but you wanted to give it one more day, and you were not even sure about the thing you both had going on. 
  You were preparing the order, Oliver standing next to you, working on his order and occasionally making you laugh with his corny jokes when Gina, another coworker, showed up at your side, pulling you away from your half-done coffee,  
“I’ll take it from here, go and deal with your favorite customer” she nudged your side, 
You couldn’t help but let the smile make its way to grace your lips, but you had to play dumb, 
“What?”  
Gina gave you the stare that said really?  
You snickered as you left, your heartbeat quickening, exhaustion already leaving your body as you saw him sitting at his usual spot, the corner table that nobody likes, so it’s always available, your favorite spot since him. 
You reached him and instead of staying seated as usual, he got up and walked closer to you. It has been 2 days and you didn't know how much you missed him now that he was standing in front of you, all you wanted was to hug him and never let him out of your sight.  
He took one more step towards you, maintaining eye contact as he slowly raised his hand to your waist and pulled you into him in one swift motion. You stiffened at first, then you locked your arms at his nape melting into his big frame. You took a deep breath like this was something you were missing all your life. 
“Hello to my favorite customer,” you smiled at him when you detached yourselves from each other 
“Hello to you too, my sunshine,” he replied, matching your smile 
You both returned to the table, and he slid a small bag towards you, you didn’t have to open to know what was inside, strawberries, as he started getting you those ever since you told him that strawberries were your favorite. 
Whenever you got free from your morning shift, you two would sit in the reserved area of the cafe just to talk. That’s what you both did. Talk about everything and anything. You didn’t need to pretend, you were completely yourself around him, and he, with you.  
He kept buying you strawberries because you loved them. And in turn you would treat him with extra cup of coffee on random days 
Any little time you spent together felt like an escape from reality and everything it offered. There was no toxicity, just pure, innocent and effortless conversations along with different flavors of pancakes.  
Sarah admired Joel showing interest in your company. She wasn’t young enough to see how happy you both looked, and she was genuinely glad about that. She would even make excuses for Joel to come to the cafe,  
Hey dad, can you please bring my notebook, I forgot it on the table and we’re discussing something 
And boy would he be beyond happy whenever he gets the opportunity to show up at the cafe. 
But like waking up from a really good dream,  
Joel had just entered the cafe, standing on the counter, chatting with you (not blocking the way of customers) while you received orders when your eyes went wide at the figure entering through the door,  
“What is it?” Joel asked casually 
You ducked your head, “its dad” you whispered and saw how Joel’s face fell. You both knew you weren’t allowed to hang out with Joel, let alone be around him.  
Suddenly his demeanor changed as he cleared his throat, looking down at the menu card, feeling your dad approaching. You managed to keep a serious and bothered face as you saw your dad stopping deadly in his tracks as he saw Joel. oh boy  
“There are other cafes in the town” your dad grunted, indirectly referring to Joel, who only rolled his eyes in response.  
You bit a smile at his reaction, “hey dad! Didn’t know you were coming” you tried to alleviate the thick tension.  
Your dad gave you a tight nod, “yeah, get me two blueberry pastries; your mom called”  
Never the friendly face, annoyance etched on his face like it was there since he was born. Your father was exactly the kind of customers you hated. Acting like a boss, like you owe a million dollars.   
You looked between two of them before you left to get the box. On your return, you didn’t spot Joel. You frowned, wondering if your dad had said something to him. Your thoughts were cut short by your dad; 
“No need to serve him, tell him to go any other cafe, there are plenty of them,”  
You were speechless, he was being absolutely ridiculous.  
“Wha- dad? He’s just a customer, you can't bring your years’ old absurd beef in this-”  
“Do as i tell you, and if you can’t, then leave the job, you can do better anyway” he threatened in low voice, pointing his finger at you, before leaving 
You knew your dad was overreacting but you kept your mouth shut because you knew he wouldn’t care about the people and just shout on you if you disagreed with him 
It was midnight, your mind was running a hundred thoughts a minute since your dad showed up today. You had no idea how to tell Joel to stop coming to the café, like how could you stop him when it made you the happiest? 
 “Hey, you awake?” you texted joel  
He didn’t reply for 10 minutes, then your phone chimed, you quickly turned it on to see his text,  
J- “Yeah, I'm up, why aren’t you asleep yet?” he replied 
“Wondering what dad told you today at the cafe” there was no filtering when you were with Joel, sharing every piece of your mind and not regretting it 
J- “Except telling me to not ‘roam around you’ he didn't really say anything”  
You were embarrassed, why did your dad have to be like that? you felt bad for Joel 
“I’m sorry” you sent before typing “I just wish he wouldn’t stop you from the cafe, your presence feels natural there”  
J- “Don't be sorry, sweetheart, I didn't mind it at all. He’s only looking out for you; we'll figure it out. plus, I think I can sneak in when I get the chance ;)”  
You scoffed at his text, looking out for me? More like suffocating me from things that I actually like. But you felt affection for him in the way he was willing to be with you.  
It had been a week, he showed up two times. Two times. A day apart. Then he disappeared for the rest of the week. 
After the 3rd long day of him not showing up, you started to worry. Two hours of constant contemplating later, you decided to text him, 
“Hey, Joel” 
It's Sunday afternoon, 2pm. Not that Joel would have something to do so you wait for his text. You toss and twist in bed, smoking cigarettes, reading old magazines, scrolling on your phone, an hour later, there was no reply. 
4 hours; nothing.  
8 hours; nothing.  
Next day, beginning of next week. You passed by his house, praying to get at least a glimpse of him but there was nothing.  
You didn’t even see him on the streets, not with Sarah, just nowhere. As if he didn't even exist.  
  Still your ears pricked up every time you heard the door to the café ring, desperately hoping it was Joel, but it was never him.  
Sarah and her friends were seated at their accustomed table. It distressed you to see Sarah, not knowing how to go and ask her about her dad.  
It upset you even more when Gina asked you about him every other day, and more hurt when you had to lie, like “oh he’s just busy,”  
But Gina knew better when she saw you with pity in her eyes, that look that told you, I'm sorry he ghosted you.   
  You had to hold back your tears to keep her from knowing that she was right.  
But you broke down the second you locked the room to your room, lighting a cigarette, you placed it between your puffy red lips as the tears streamed down your cheeks,  
“Where the hell are you, Joel?” you hit send and threw your phone as you sat on the windowsill, watching the cars go buy,  
You got out of the bathroom when you heard your phone ding, you all but ran to the bed, grabbing and swiping it on,  
J- “Yeah, just around. How’s everything?”  
You were taken aback by the carelessness. As if it wasn't bothering him, as much it was bothering you. As if he didn’t miss you at all like you did. As if it all didn’t matter. As if you didn't matter 
“Really? You ghosted me for two weeks and now you're acting all chill?” you replied 
Frustration getting the best of you, you wanted to cry again.  
J- “Look, I think it’s best for the both of us”  
“Fuck what you think, fuck you” you sent   
You could feel the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. You threw your phone on the table before falling on the bed, face first.  
The next thing you know is you're sobbing, muffling the sounds with the pillow on your face. You didn't realize how much you were attached to him until now, you didn't know how much you wanted to be with him until now.  
You got up to smoke a cigarette to release the stress, but you cried while exhaling puffs of smoke in the air  
Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him 
The next two days were a blur. You avoided spending extra time in the cafe, avoided conversations with your coworkers because they ended up asking about Joel. Your father picked a fight with a random guy just because he took longer to deliver some equipment that he ordered online; it was stupid really. You avoided Sarah too, because she painfully reminded you of Joel  
I'm only giving it time, I'll get back to normal eventually, you’d tell yourself  
The third day, you were brewing coffee when your phone vibrated, turning it on, your heart dropped to the stomach as you read Joel’s name on it 
Quickly you swiped to view the message,  
J- “Can we talk?” you felt anxiety rising up. A part of you was excited that he texted while the other part of you was furious, he can't just come and go as he pleases 
You were lost in your thoughts when you received another message, J- “please?”  
You decided to let things be, he ghosted me for a week, now he wants to talk, he can't expect me to go back running  
Putting your phone down, you carried on with your work until it was night. 
You closed the cafe as you stepped out, you saw a familiar truck parked beside your car.  
Unmistakably Joel. 
He stood there leaning against his truck, cigarette smoke around him like a halo. He pushed himself up as he spotted you and he made his way to you.  
You stood there frozen. Resisting the strong urge to go and hug him and never let go. But you stood there and waited,  
He came close but didn't stop until he was only a few inches away from you. Looking at your face, examining it, eyes running all over your features,  
“Sarah said you looked horrible, but God you look worse,” he whispered. Scared if he talks loudly, this all would shatter,  
“Like you care?” you retorted.  
That's when you saw in his eyes. Regret. Remorse. Before he hung his head down, 
Slowly he reached for your hands, hanging on your sides, silently interlacing your fingers. You didn't stop him. You couldn’t  
“Please, can we talk?” his voice was small as he looked at you 
You nodded  
He released a breath, that even he didn’t know he was holding, as he nodded too 
With your fingers still interlaced, he tugged you toward his truck. You both walked the distance, hand in hand as you felt droplets of water kissing your skin.  
You went rigid making Joel turn and face you, watching you wipe away the water beads from your face. A few more drops on both of you before the rain lashes down. 
Joel instinctively became your human shield, as you both ran towards his truck, even though that wouldn’t keep you from drenching, but the action was so Joel. Reaching there, he quickly opened the door for you before getting himself inside from the other side.  
Both of your breaths were ragged as you sat in silence.  
He ignited the engine bringing his truck to life,  
“Where are we going?” you broke the silence  
He sighed, “I- uh, had tis place in mind but,” he looked out the window, at the rain, “‘s rainin’ so we can stay in the truck, I guess,”  
“What place?” you were confused,  
“Y’gonna love it, trus’ me” a small smirk growing in the corner of his lips 
--------------------------------------------------------------
Part: 1 2 3 
Tags: @strawberri-blonde
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The Farmer's Daughter 1
Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Characters: Walter Marshall
Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)
Part of the Backwoods AU
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
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You stand on your tiptoes, a dangerous choice as you stand on a wooden stool, reaching to clip pegs around the folded edge of the linen sheet. You clasp it over the cord in three places and reel along the length, bending to pull a wet pillowcase from the basket.
“You’re grinding on the clutch,” Walter’s voice carries through the barn door before he emerges, “you need another driving lesson.”
“I know how to drive stick,” your brother, Timothy, argues with the larger man. “It’s not the clutch.”
“Ermph,” the other man grunts in return.
“Thanks for having a look though,” Timothy slaps his arm lightly.
He gets another grumble from the chronically grumpy man. Walter is older than your brother, by quite a bit; and you too. He’s tall and burly and his brow never truly loses its furrow. He’s fonder of your father than Timothy; you’re sure if he didn’t feel some kinship with your father, he’d never venture this far.
Walter is a big, burly man. He has a lumbering gait you can recognise even as he’s at the property’s edge, and his curly hair falls messily around his chiseled face. There’s a touch of silver in one curl but his age doesn’t show otherwise.
You refocus on hanging the laundry. You stand on your toes and strain to clip the beg on the line. The stool wobbles and you put your feet flat, steadying it. You suck in your lower lip and look around. Timothy’s gone, you hear him back in the barn clattering through the toolbox, but Walter remains. He narrows his eyes at you as you give a sheepish smile.
“Hi, Mr. Marshall,” you say.
“Hey,” he returns in his way.
You don’t expect much more so you wind the line further and once more bend to take another piece of clothing. You quickly forget his presence and go back to your precarious game. Back on your toes, the stool tips and you gasp, a scream catching in your throat as you brace yourself for the violent tumble.
You don’t hit the ground though. You barely even tip as you're caught under the arms. You open your eyes as Walter holds you well over the ground. He does so effortlessly. 
“I… Mr. Marshall, thank you,” you breathe.
“You shouldn’t do that,” he grits.
“Um, I know,” you wiggle your feet and look at the ground, “um, can you put me down.” He does just that and you laugh at yourself, “thanks.”
“Hm,” he sidles down to the basket. 
To your surprise he takes out the next sheet and easily throws it over the line. He holds out a hand but you just stare at his calloused palm. What is he doing?”
“Pin,” he demands gruffly.
“Oh, uh, sure,” you step up and place a pin in his hand. His fingers brush around yours as he closes them. You retract your reach as he clasps it over the linen. He puts his hand out for the next and again, you hand one over.
“Don’t do it again,” he says as he grabs the next piece of laundry.
“Mr. Marshall, I won’t, but you don’t need to–”
“It’s fine,” he carries on, set on his mission of putting out the drying. “Your father wouldn’t be happy if I let you hurt yourself.”
“Erm, I guess,” you give him another pin.
He’s silent as his blue gray eyes fixate on his chore. He bends to grab more, drapes the cloth over, and takes a pin to secure it in place. You work in wordless rhythm until the basket is empty and the line is full.
“How is he?” He asks.
You put your hands behind you and wring them, “better. Ma says he’ll be home next week.”
He nods and looks at you. He crosses his arms, straining the fabric of his long-sleeved tee. It’s warm out, enough to dampen his shirt with sweat. Still, he doesn't seem to mind.
“If you need anything,” he peers around the fields, “big place for just you and the other one.”
“Oh, Tim? Yeah, we manage.”
He scratches the scruff on his chin and shifts his stance. You’ve never seen him flinch before, never hesitate or doubt, but in that moment, he seems unsure. He clears his throat and drops his hand.
“Well, have a good day,” he bows his head slightly. “Have your brother take down the laundry.”
You look away guiltily, staring at the stool, “you, too, Mr. Marshall.”
He backs away a few steps and you cautiously glance at his boots as he does. He stops and you hold your breath.
“I don’t mind Walt,” he says.
“Right,” your voice flutters, “Walt.”
He twists on his heel and continues across the grass to the trodden road. He follows it down towards the fence. You tear your gaze away and gather up the basket and the stool. You leave them on the porch and sit in the shade as sweat speckles on your forehead.
Your heart is still racing, likely from your near disastrous slip. You think you will have Timothy take down the sheets. You may even convince him to help your fold.
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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 8 months
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Studious V (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+
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Aemond reads your notes, and you both finally come clean. After he introduces you to his best friend, you invite him back to your chambers.
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)
Warnings: OOH BOY ITS TIME! We got tiddy suckin', we got fingering (f receiving), we got oral sex (f receiving), and we got p in v sex (finally), and of course, Aegon!
Author's Note: Bone apple teeth, y'all
Read Part I Here - Read Part II Here - Read Part III Here - Read Part IV Here
My Masterlist
Taglist will be done via reblogs (there are simply too many of you to fit here)
Studious V
Only a few minutes later, you sat across from Aemond at the small dining table in his chambers – obviously only ever intended for one. He had to drag one of the chairs by the hearth across the room just so you could sit with him. For he had insisted you stay while he read your notes, assuring you that it would not take long.
“I read very quickly,” he explained. “I have to, if I hope to read everything I want to.”
Now, you sat silently across from him as you watched him read. He held your diary in his right hand while his left held open his own where it rested on the table. While reading, he would often look between the two, cross-referencing what you had written about with his original entries.
It was quite amusing, being able to watch his reactions. Subdued as they were, you still caught him, on various occasions, both smiling and frowning. He even blushed once! You smiled as you recalled him doing the same to you – watching your face as you read in the library. Perhaps you were more similar than you had once thought.
For a long while, Aemond said nothing. He hardly even looked at you – only glancing up a few times and shying away when he noticed you looking back.
Until once, he did not look away. Though he did blush quite deeply.
“I apologise,” he whispered, “I did not realise how… detailed I was in some instances. You should not have had to read such depravity. Please, forgive me.”
So, he reached the library entry. And you had not written anything in response – a stark difference from every other entry. It was no wonder that he thought you offended. But you were most certainly not offended, and you had heard enough apologies from him to last you the rest of your lifetimes.
You reached across the table – hardly difficult, as it was so small – and brushed your fingers against his. The urge to fully take his hand was strong, but you did not want to push too far before the two of you had settled everything.
“There is no need to apologise,” you said, your first words since you gave him the diaries. “It is perfectly natural for a man to… think about his wife in such a way. Didn’t Septon Eustace tell you that so long as we were married, lust is not a sin?”
Aemond smiled a little at that, but his brow was still furrowed in concern, as if he did not believe you entirely.
“I actually –” you began, laughing a little as you spoke to relieve the tension. “I actually found it quite… interesting.”
“Oh!” Aemond’s mouth fell open, and his eye widened in the same expression that had once made you think he looked like a freshly caught fish. This time was perhaps even more satisfying than the first, as a flush quickly spread across his face and climbed all the way to his ears, until he was as red as his family crest.
“I… um, I am glad,” Aemond’s statement sounded curiously more like a question as his eye darted from you to the table to the diaries. “I thought that… I suppose… I was just… I still – I am still sorry.”
And with that, he turned back to diaries.
-
Judging by the position of the sun – which you were never very good at, so your estimations were far from precise – it took less than an hour for Aemond to finish reading. You had passed nearly all the time by surveying his rooms.
His rooms were immaculate, which was no surprise. Everything spotless and precisely arranged. Each tapestry, of which there were few, was hung perfectly. The vases on a table near the hearth were spaced so evenly that you could not imagine how it could have been without a measuring stick. And the books on the many bookshelves were well organised.
But as well as it was kept, it did not feel like Aemond. The tapestries were finely made, but the subjects – one hunting scene, one depiction of the Red Keep, one of the Seven, and one of a dragon that did not look like any of the ones you had heard described – were very standard. The vases were well crafted, but they, too, were plain. Two in varying shades of brown, one brass, and one in a simple pattern of brass and black. Even the bookshelves seemed impersonal. They were filled to the brim with leather and linen tomes, each as pristine as they must have been when they were first bound.
There were no little trinkets, personal items, or anything else that would identify Aemond as the occupant. If not for its position at the heart of the Holdfast or the fact that you could see Aemond’s sword and dagger leaning against a wardrobe in what must be the bedroom, you would think these were guest quarters.
How was he content with living in such an impersonal space?
You had filled the walls of your rooms until you could hardly see the stone, cluttered your tables with crafting supplies and reminders of your home and family, and stuffed so many of the small items you had collected over your lifetime in your shelves that there was hardly room for books. And while Aemond had been fascinated by the decoration within your rooms, he had still chosen not to make his own a home.
Perhaps you could help him fix that.
But before you could start considering how to do so, you looked back to him and immediately became mesmerised. His brow was furrowed in concentration, his eye snapping between the two diaries with dizzying speed, and his lips slightly pursed. It almost seemed as though he was studying rather than simply reading.
He cared about this – very much so. He was almost… desperate.
Did he still think you would ask to be separated from him? After you had read his diary, as he asked? After you returned to him and offered your own? After you had assured him you were not repulsed by what he had written?
Had you really been so cold to him that he could still believe you would run away?
A chill settled over you at the possibility. Perhaps several days ago, you may have accepted his offer to return to your home. Now, the thought of leaving him made you almost nauseous, though you were not entirely sure why. You wrapped your arms around yourself and cast your gaze down to the table surface.
“I’ve finished,” Aemond said merely a moment later. You looked up to see him setting your diary down next to his, then turning the pages of each back to the beginning of your shared story.
You sat up straighter in your chair, first placing your clasped hands on the table, then in your lap, then unclasping them so you could bunch the skirts of your dress in your hands – both to try and calm your nerves and soak up the moisture that had begun to form the moment Aemond spoke again. After you gave him a short nod, he began.
He laid his clasped hands atop the diaries, then separated them to grip the edges of the table on either side of the journals, then finally deciding to keep one hand on his diary while the other picked up his quill pen, which he began to fiddle with restlessly.
“I, um… I should like to start by thanking you for reading this,” he said, his voice less sure than you were used to. He did not meet your gaze, instead looking straight down at the books before him. “And I wish to apologise – again. First, for being so incompetent that this was the only way I could express my feelings, and secondly, for the admittedly humiliating things you read.”
“Aemond,” you interrupted before he could continue. When he looked at you in near panic, you scoffed and shook your head slightly. “If you apologise to me again, I might scream.”
He looked shocked by your words, then nodded gravely. “I did not realise how often I was doing so. I ap… shit, no.” He shut his eye and heaved a great sigh. “I will endeavour to do so less in the future, though I cannot promise I will not have to, on occasion.” The corner of his mouth quirked in the shadow of a smile as he winced slightly. “We both know how often I have cause to.”
“That is acceptable,” you whispered, “thank you.”
Both of you smiled at each other, your gazes locked. The moment lingering a bit longer than it would have with a stranger or even a friend. Then Aemond turned back to the diaries and frowned.
“I don’t quite know…” he trailed off, shaking his head slightly. “Forgive me, but my first reply to your notes was to be an apology for the careless and mean-spirited remarks I made about the merits of embroidery. I don’t know what to say if I am forbidden to apologise.”
You blinked, unsure of what to say. Yet it pleased you greatly that he was taking your request that he stop apologising so seriously.
Aemond did not wait for you to give him an answer, speaking with both urgency and sincerity. “It was thoughtless of me to write what I did. I was exhausted by the day and unhappy with how my grandsire chose to conduct my betrothal and marriage. And admittedly, I know little about the craft, and therefore underestimated it.”
“I am touched by your words,” you whispered, flustered by the intensity with which he regarded you, as if whatever you said next held the power to either destroy him or build him higher. “Perhaps, instead of apologising, you could tell me how you intend to make amends?”
“Of course,” his face lit up when he realised you were not upset with him. “I… I will learn more about embroidery so that I may truly appreciate it. Could… would you be willing to teach me?”
Based on the moment of panic that you saw come over him, you knew your shock at the request was rather poorly concealed. Bashfully, Aemond looked away. “After seeing the beautiful things that you have created – or I assume you have, as they were in your rooms, and depicted your home and interests – I truly wish to understand how they are made.”
Gods, he was serious. He truly wanted you to teach him how to create embroidery! The very idea was so amusing you could not hide your smile. “That is a wonderful solution, Aemond,” you said with all the reassurance you could muster. “I look forward to seeing what beautiful things you will make.”
“Oh, I am certain that compared to you… I mean, your own works, my attempts will seem quite poor. Laughable, even.”
“Well, I have had many years of practice,” you replied, “and a true love of the craft. It gives me an advantage over you. Although having seen you fight, I believe you have great potential as an embroiderer.”
Aemond’s head tilted slightly. “I don’t understand how the two skills correlate.”
“You fight with precision,” you explained, feeling yourself flush at the memory of him in the training yard. “Your movements are controlled and exact. The same skills are required in embroidery.”
“Then perhaps learning embroidery will further improve my fighting skills,” he said, almost jokingly. But any hint of a smile faded quickly, and he ducked his head, looking up at you as he continued. “I… I would like it if you could continue to come and watch me. When I practice. Not every day if you don’t want to, but every few days? Only if it would interest you, of course.”
“It would interest me very much!” you said, probably too quickly. But you had thought about Aemond wielding his sword so many times in the days since you actually saw him, and you were eager to see it again – and more of it. Up close, preferably.
He blushed again, though he reined it in much faster this time and resumed his cool, almost bureaucratic demeanour. “As for your list of books – some I have read, some I have heard of, and others I know nothing about. I would like to sit down with you and discuss them all. We could do that now, if you’d like?”
“I appreciate the thought, but today, I think we have more important things to discuss?” Indeed, you hadn’t anticipated this much discussion. You hadn’t even thought he would want you to remain with him while he read. But here you sat, not in your own rooms, in a carriage on your way home, or – as you had half-hoped for – in a bed.
Every moment you spent with Aemond was another agonising moment you spent not knowing what would happen between you. You were so eager for an answer – a conclusion.
But it was only fair that Aemond be allowed to respond to your comments and questions, so you bit your lip and prepared for more. After all, your husband was quite thorough. That much was clear from his research.
“Indeed we do,” he said as he flipped over a page of his diary. “I would be more than happy to take you to the Grand Sept. The family attend service there instead of the Royal Sept at least once per moon turn, but we can certainly go sooner if you prefer. It wouldn’t have to be for a service. We could just… go.”
“Choose a day,” you said, “and I will be with you.”
“I can’t wait for you to see it,” Aemond said with a smile. “It is truly…”
“Grand?” you offered.
“Yes, it has been named well,” his smile grew wider. “I am beginning to think that I, too, need to create a list of all the times you’ve made me laugh.”
You cocked your head, perplexed. “But… you didn’t laugh.”
“Oh, um…” Aemond looked away and grimaced, tapping his pen against his diary several times. “I don’t, often, laugh. Not aloud, at least.” After a deep inhale, he faced you again. “I assure you though, I felt like laughing! But I will try to do so in future, so it will be easier to know when I am amused.”
“No, Aemond,” you chided softly. “I don’t want you to change yourself for me. Now that I know what you look like when you ‘feel like laughing,” I will be able to recognise it. And, based on how extensive my list was, I believe I will laugh aloud enough for the both of us.”
He flipped to the page where you had made your list – throughout reading his diary, you would often return and add onto it, until it took up most of the page. He stared at it for a long moment, running his fingers over the words as if he could feel them. “I am immensely glad to have made you laugh, for there is nothing I desire more than to see you happy.”
Heat spread over every inch of your skin as you flushed, both from his words and what you were about to say. “There is ‘nothing you desire more?’” You bit your lip as you pointed to his diary. “Some of your later entries suggest otherwise.”
Aemond’s flush quickly grew to match your own. “I… there are things I desire nearly as much, but your happiness remains the greatest of them all.”
You both stayed there for a long moment, blushing and smiling at each other. All the while, you willed your racing heart to calm and your burning skin to cool. But beneath Aemond’s gaze, there was no hope for either. He looked at you with not only a lustful hunger but with admiration, longing, and a kind of reverence that made you at once bashful and confident.
If you stayed that way for much longer, you felt as though you would combust.
“I believe you skipped ahead a few entries,” you said. Even the whisper sounded like a shout in the silence that had descended upon you.
“Indeed I have,” he half-laughed, returning the diary to where he had left off. “My ap… I will begin again in the proper place. Please, inform me if I stray again?”
“I will,” you assured, nearly laughing yourself.
His eye lingered on you for a moment before he actually began again. “I wish I had danced with you all night,” he said, his smile fading as he looked at your next note morosely. “It had been my plan, actually. But as you read, I feared that if I remained so close to you, looking as radiant as you did, I would have done something untoward and inappropriate. Worse, I feared doing something you would not want.”
He would not meet your eye, but still, you spoke. “I admit, had you started ravishing me on the dancefloor, I likely would have reacted poorly,” you said with sombre humour. Aemond didn’t acknowledge it. “But I wanted to dance with you, talk to you. To begin to understand the man with whom I would spend the rest of my life.”
Aemond pursed his lips, his lone eye blinking furiously.
“If you had kissed me then,” you continued, though you doubted it was a good idea, “I would have welcomed it.”
You swore you saw a flash of tears in his eye before hanging his head so low his face was hidden. “I swear to you that, from this moment on, I will dance with you whenever you want,” Aemond whispered, his voice low and crackling with emotion, “wherever we are, and whether we have music to accompany us or simply the rhythm of our own hearts.”
He raised his head to face you, his eye flicking back to the diary once before again fixing on you. “I also swear that you will never again fall asleep without my first wishing you goodnight. Even if we are parted and far from each other, I shall wish it upon the wind and pray that it carries my words to you.”
The vows settled on your heart with more weight and meaning than those he had sworn to you in the Sept. For these were not of words written by a Septon long ago and repeated by countless men and women in their own marriages. These vows were not shared – they were only for you.
It would only be proper for you to swear your own vows in return, but you did not know what to swear. Despite having read his diary, you did not know him so well as he knew you. Guilt threatened to overwhelm you, and you could only say a quiet thanks before signalling for him to continue.
You were silent for a while, offering only small smiles and nods as Aemond promised to not damage his finely made diary any further, told you that your wedding presents were being catalogued in the Royal Vault and would be returned to you soon, and that he had confirmed with Lord Jasper that Coryanne Wylde – his ancestor – was indeed the author of ‘A Caution for Young Girls.”
With each of his explanations, you only gave him half your focus, as the other half was occupied trying to figure out what you could swear to him. Perhaps that you would only ever wear nightclothes he found attractive?
For a moment, you were sure he could read your mind, as the moment after the thought came to you, he turned a page and began, “Your robe – ”
“What about it?” you asked, louder and more defensively than you originally intended.
Aemond stared at you, shocked by the sudden outburst. “I was going to say that I do not, in fact, hate it, I swear.”
“Oh,” you said, sinking slightly into your chair as your cheeks flushed in embarrassment.
“It is a very fine robe, well made and quite beautiful,” he continued, graciously ignoring your current state. “It just… it is so large that I feel as though you are hiding, and I don’t ever want you to hide from me. Or even feel like you must. I never meant to offend something you hold so dear.”
“Oh,” you said again. After correcting your posture to something decidedly more ladylike, you took a deep breath and gave an explanation of your own. “I wasn’t hiding, I promise. But that robe is one of the few things that makes me feel…” you struggled to find the right word. “Safe.”
Aemond’s face blanched, and while his eye hardened, his brow raised in concern. “The Red Keep – and the Holdfast especially – is the safest place in the realm, perhaps the world. No harm will come to you, I swear. I will – ”
You held up a hand to stop him, and despite his furore, he quieted at your command. “That’s not what I mean by ‘safe,’ Aemond.”
“Then I am afraid I don’t understand.”
With a sigh, you looked up at the ceiling, searching for a way to explain the complex feeling. “I don’t mean ‘safe’ in a physical way. I don’t fear that I will be harmed or killed. I mean safe in a… in my heart. Perhaps my soul too.”
Aemond’s eye narrowed, but he said nothing, so you continued. “Since my family has left, I have felt very alone – painfully so. I hardly know anyone here, nor do they know me.” At that, your husband seemed ready to protest, but you did not let him. “From reading your diary, I do believe you know me. Better than I would have ever thought in the short time we have known each other. But even then, I have seen you so little, and spoken to you even less.”
He nodded, “Another failing I must atone for.”
“Well, I suppose I could have approached you myself. But after our wedding night…” Aemond flinched at the reminder but remained silent. “I was confused. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t quite that. And I know some of it is my fault! Please don’t blame yourself entirely. Still, you never spoke to me, not at court or at dinners. You never asked to see me or even escort me back to my rooms after dinner. I thought I had disappointed you, but I could not summon the courage to ask you how.”
“I never meant to abandon you,” Aemond murmured, “I just didn’t want to frighten you further. I was trying to – ”
“I know,” you smiled, inclining your head toward the diaries. “I understand now. But my understanding does not mean that I do not wish we had both made different choices.”
“As you said in your apology,” he said, almost to himself. Silence fell over you as he turned the page and traced his finger over your words again. “The robe is your reminder of home, where you are safe and loved, not scared and dreading the life ahead of you.”
“Yes.”
“And in my idiocy, I took that from you.”
“It was a shared idiocy,” you mused, grateful when Aemond’s tense shoulders dropped at your forgiving tone. “You were very kind to me that day, and yet I took the first opportunity to assume the worst of you.”
“I am afraid I gave you ample cause to assume the worst of me.”
“Maybe so, but I won’t do it anymore,” you felt meek saying the words, like a child promising their parents to stop misbehaving.
But then Aemond smiled, his cheeks tinged with colour again, and under his warm gaze, you felt… safe. “And I will not give you any more cause to.”
You smiled back, holding a girlish giggle, the origin of which was unknown to you.
“That reminds me,” Aemond said with a wicked grin. He tapped your open diary once, twice. “I like it when you scrunch your nose because of the delicious contradiction. Such an unpleasant expression upon the loveliest of faces.”
You pouted, then immediately realised your mistake when his grin grew wider and moved to cover your now-scrunched nose with your hands. Aemond only laughed at your embarrassment. “I cannot decide whether that is a compliment or not,” you said, causing another round of laughter.
“I assure you, it is meant entirely as a compliment,” he assured, still coming down from his amusement. He took a deep breath and then went still. “None could ever insult your appearance, for they could find no faults. And if they did… I would assure they were properly punished.”
Your flush was so great you could feel its heat when you dropped your head into your hands. “I suppose I should ask, how fares the painter who made my miniature?”
Another grin, this one positively lupine. “He has not been harmed, but I doubt he will ever again be commissioned by the noble families. If he does not flee across the Narrow Sea, he will be fortunate to find any amongst the smallfolk who can pay him more than a silver piece for his work..”
Such a severe punishment, just for a painting that had not shown your beauty? You didn’t know whether to be horrified or flattered. Or impressed that he held such influence. Judging by the fluttering feeling that filled your chest, you knew you were flattered more than anything. And the look on Aemond’s face, a look of pure confidence and power, stirred such powerful desire within you that you had to grip the arms of your chair to stop yourself from planting yourself on his lap – precisely as he had written about.
Your hands remained clutched to the chair as Aemond told you that he would be more than happy to study Valyrian history with you, and that he did not pick all the dog roses from the garden, for those he left were promptly collected by the Maesters. He expressed his desire to visit your home, but with the caveat that you would protect him from your brothers. And he assured you that he would not take a vow of silence so that you could hear his voice whenever you wanted.
Finally, he came to your last reply.
He read it again, silently, and slower than you would have liked. Then, he faced you but kept his eye focused on the wall past your shoulder. “I do not know if this is correct,” he said, almost bashfully. “But, I find myself… glad? That you missed me. That you worried for me. I did not know you cared for me that much, or that you cared for me at all.”
“Honestly? Neither did I. Not until that night.” You reached across the table – a short distance which yet felt like the length of the world – and took Aemond’s hand. He gasped, and his hand twitched, but then he sighed in relief. It was almost like the sound he had made when he released his seed within you. The very thought of it made you tighten your grip. “But I do care about you, Aemond... husband.”
To what extent you did not know. But you were very close to finding out.
-
You did not know how long you stayed there, holding hands and saying nothing. Minutes, perhaps. Or hours. In either case, the sun was still up when Aemond suddenly dropped your hand and stood.
“There is… there is something else I should show you,” he said, stumbling over his words as he had the first few times he actually spoke to you. “If you truly want to know me.”
Though you felt a tinge of apprehension at his vague words and that you could not imagine what else there was for him to show you after giving you his diary. Still, you nodded. “I do – want to know you.”
He stood, his back rigid as he extended a hand toward you. “Come, I will call a wheelhouse to take us.”
“A wheelhouse? Where are we going?”
“To the edge of the Kingswood.” At the look of confusion on your face, he clarified, “It is where Vhagar resides.”
“Vhagar? Your dragon?” You took his hand and let him pull you up, your shock at his request momentarily replaced by the strength you felt in the motion – the same strength that had enraptured you in the training yard.
“Well, she is not my dragon,” he clarified. “It doesn’t work like that. There is no ownership one way or the other. It’s more like… a partnership. I am her rider, and she is my mount.”
It took you a moment to collect your thoughts as Aemond began to lead you – still holding your hand – out of his rooms. He whispered briefly to the first guard you saw, who immediately ran toward the stables. When you were alone, he turned to you. “It… might be cool. Would you like to fetch a cloak from your rooms?”
You did, and you didn’t. While you didn’t want to endure the cold, you couldn’t help but think about what would happen if you felt cold and didn’t have a cloak. Would Aemond offer you his or perhaps invite you to share his?
“Yes,” you answered breathlessly. “I would like that.”
He smiled and led you back to your rooms. So far from his own, yet with him leading you, the distance seemed to pass far faster than when you ran to him earlier that day.
Aemond stopped when you came to your door, lingering for a moment. “Would you… should I come in?” He turned to you with pleading eyes that you could tell he was trying to conceal. “I can remain outside if you wish it.”
He moved to drop your hand, but you held firm. “I would like you to come inside,” you said. “You know better than I what I will need, so I should like your assistance in selecting a cloak.”
Aemond gave you his fish look again, utterly dumbfounded. As if going into your dressing room was somehow more intimate than him fucking you. Fortunately, he regained his composure quickly and bowed his head. “Of course, whatever you wish.”
He opened the door and allowed you to lead him inside, past the couch where he had given you flowers, past the bedchamber where you had lain together, and into your dressing room. When you turned back to him, he was looking around as if he were just led into a room full of grand tapestries and works of art rather than clothes and shoes.
“What is it, Aemond?” you asked, suddenly worried that he may have seen something that offended him.
“It is just…” he laughed lightly before looking back to you, “I didn’t think anyone could actually fill their dressing room – especially not one this large.”
Though he smiled, you were yet filled with worry. “I promise I am not vain!” you pled, holding his hand to your chest. “My mother believes that a lady should always… and since I was to marry a prince, she – ”
You were silenced when Aemond pressed a kiss to your joined hands. “You have married a prince, and he does not think you vain, I swear. Actually, he is rather excited to see how beautiful you look in each and every item here.”
For a moment, you strongly considered leading him into the bedroom and leaving Vhagar for another day. But you had other plans for how you wanted that reunion to go. So, you reluctantly dropped his hand and pointed to the room’s far corner. “The cloaks are over there.”
Being a royal bride and one of only two daughters of a wealthy house meant that your trousseau was extraordinary. As such, you had more than a dozen cloaks, at least one for every colour of the rainbow.
Aemond went first to a black cloak – your warmest. While its wool was sparsely decorated, it was lined with the exquisite striped fur of a shadowcat. But after running his fingers once through the fur, Aemond pushed it aside.
He went next to a red cloak, intricately embroidered with gold and black dragonscale patterns (although the designs were somewhat abstract). It had been specially made when the match was announced, to honour the colours and sigil of your new house. But it, too, was rejected.
The green cloak – the one of dark emerald, not the light sage – was considered as well, longer than the other two. It was made from rich velvet and decorated with pearls. But Aemond let it behind, as well.
After quickly sorting through the next seven, he, at last, stopped to examine another. This one was made from a gentle pink jacquard, the pattern difficult to spot from a distance but absolutely lovely when near. The inside was lined with a light layer of undyed wool, and the edges with a thin strip of sable fur.
It was your favourite.
And it was the one Aemond chose.
“Wear this one,” he whispered as he brought it to you, holding it as though it was the most precious thing he’d ever held. “It suits you… very well.”
The flush on his cheeks gave you a rush of confidence, enough that you lifted your hair and turned around. Looking at Aemond over your shoulder, you dropped your eyes to the floor in a show of shyness. “Will you put it on me?”
Aemond’s gaze never left the skin of your exposed neck as he approached and laid the cloak over you with the gentlest whisper of a touch. He was close enough that you could hear his breathing quicken and feel the heat roiling off him. After the excessive amount of time he spent assuring that the cloak fell correctly, he finally stepped in front of you to fasten the front.
He tried, so very hard, to not look at your face as he did. But you caught every time his eye looked up at you – your eyes, your cheeks, your lips.
Kiss me, you willed silently, not yet brave enough to ask for it aloud.
The wish went unfulfilled. Once he had fastened the twin brooches of your cloak, Aemond smoothed it over once more, then offered you his hand. “The wheelhouse will be waiting for us,” he said.
You took his hand and let him lead you away.
-
The journey to the edge of the Kingswood passed quickly, the time filled with idle conversation about the city as you raced past it. You had questions about every statue, alleyway, and building; for the most part, Aemond had answers. The city’s history was inexorably tied to House Targaryen, and so he had taken it upon himself to learn everything there was to know about it.
It was enough to soothe your fears about meeting the largest dragon in the world. Until that is, you passed through the city gates, and the Kingswood appeared on the horizon.
“Why does Vhagar live in the forest?” you asked, peering through the curtains of the wheelhouse. “Why does she not live in the Dragonpit with the others?”
Aemond raised his brows proudly, “She has grown so large that she can no longer fit in the Dragonpit.”
The very idea was at once awesome and terrifying. You had seen the Dragonpit in the distance from your windows at the Red Keep and some dragons flying around it. That Vhagar could not even fit inside…
“So Maegor did not build it large enough? Even when he rode Balerion?”
“Well,” Aemond shrugged. “She could fit in the Dragonpit if it was necessary. But it would not be comfortable. It would stifle her. I do not want that.”
Just as he did not want you to be alone and trapped in the castle – enough that he would set you free of it if you asked. “You care for her very much, then?”
“I do, yes,” he answered, his eyes becoming contemplative while his lips still curled in a smile. “She is… I have told you that the relationship between dragon and rider is like a partnership, yes?”
“You have, yes.”
“It means that there must be understanding between the pair,” he explained. “Common ground, or even a shared soul. I know it may seem illogical or insane, but Vhagar understands me. She cannot speak it, but I know that she does. For most of my life, it has felt like she is the only one…” he trailed off as his eye came to rest once more upon you.
Until you, you could hear the words as well as if he had shouted them. Rather than a pit of fear, it created a warmth within you. Aemond understood you, and you were beginning to feel as if you understood him as well.
“Then I very much look forward to meeting her,” you replied. It was the truth, though you still possessed a healthy tinge of fear at meeting a dragon said to be now larger than Balerion had been during the conquest.
Aemond lifted the curtain from his window and looked back at you with an eager grin. “You will not have to wait much longer, my dear. We have arrived.”
When the porter opened the wheelhouse door, Aemond lept out. But you remained frozen in your seat. Had he not realised what he had just said?
“My dear.”
It has been said with such ease as though it was something he called you often. But that was the first time. Those two simple words had struck you like a thunderbolt and left you feeling as though you had run the distance from the castle for how fast your heart was racing.
After a moment, Aemond reappeared at the door, his arm extended to you. “Come,” he bade. “There is no reason to fear. She will not hurt you.”
You almost laughed at his misinterpretation of your state, but not wanting to explain the truth of it, you merely stood and took his arm. “Forgive me, but meeting a dragon is not an experience granted to many.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” he said, squeezing your arm and pulling you closer to him. “There never has been.”
“None of that now,” you begged. “That is all behind us. Let us just enjoy our new present.” You turned away from him, ending any argument he may have put forward.
You were expecting to be greeted by the sight of the great Vhagar, but all that was before you was the forest’s edge. A clearing of sorts, where the ground was tamped thoroughly flat, and nearly all the trees were missing their tips.
“Where is she?” you asked, surprised to find yourself disappointed that she was not there.
Aemond gently dropped your arm and stepped forward. “She must be off hunting. I will call her.” He walked to the edge of the clearing, then raised his hand to his lips and whistled louder than you had ever imagined a person could. “Vhagar! Māzīs va nykēlā !”
The forest fell silent once more, but he did not move to call again.
“Was that Valyrian?” You moved closer to him, but not all the way into the clearing. “The words you just said. ”
He turned back to you with an amused smile. “It was. It means ‘Come to me.’ That is how I call her back when she is away.”
You came even closer to him, your curiosity getting the better of you, until he was only a step ahead. “And she can hear you? Even if she is all the way across the Kingswood?”
“She can hear me if she is near enough,” he said as he held out his hand for you to take, “but the calling is more than just words. She can sense that I want her to come to me, even if she can’t hear me.”
“That is – ”
You were cut off by the loudest sound you had ever heard. A roar which seemed to shake the very foundation of the earth and the thunderous pounding of wings. Gods, how large were her wings to make such a sound?
Without realising it, you had thrown yourself into Aemond’s arms. Your face was pressed to his chest while your hands gripped the leather of his coat. He did not laugh or push you away. Of course he didn’t. He only wrapped his arms around you and whispered soothing reassurances.
It was so warm in his arms, and with the music of his calm, steady voice, you could have easily fallen asleep then and there.
That is, if the wingbeats weren’t coming nearer.
As the sound of them grew overwhelming, then stopped, you allowed Aemond to turn you to face none other than Vhagar, Queen of All Dragons.
She was enormous.
Her body filled the clearing entirely, her tail snaking through the trees beyond until the end of it – some 100 feet away- wrapped around the broad trunk of a great oak. You followed the tail up, over aged green scales that climbed higher and higher until you were looking at a torso taller than the two-story cottage your grandmother lived in. And though her wings were tucked in to allow her to fit in the clearing, you could easily guess that they measured even longer than her body when extended.
Even her head was so large that you had to turn your neck up to see her eyes – bright orange eyes that glowed like a roaring fire as they looked down upon you. Her lip curled as she rumbled a low growl, revealing teeth as long as your forearm, and you stepped back into Aemond’s chest.
“Lykirī, Vhagar,” he commanded, wrapping one arm protectively around your waist. “Dohaeras.” You could feel his hair shift against your back as he turned his head to look at you. “Ziry ñuhon ābrazȳrys issa.”
Vhagar ended her growl but continued baring her teeth as she tilted her head to better examine you. After a moment, she narrowed her eyes at Aemond.
“Ziry sepār nyke izūgilen issa daor,” he said with a distinctly reassuring tone. “Nyke jorrāelan zirȳla. Olvie nyke jorrāelan zirȳla.”
Finally, the dragon hid her terrifying teeth and, with a huff of steam from her nostrils, extended her neck to come closer to you.
“Aemond…” you whispered, near cowering as Vhagar came close enough for you to smell the brimstone on her breath.
“It’s alright,” he replied. His lithe fingers began to trace lines up and down your sides. Whether it was as a distraction or a comfort, you did not know. “She just wants to get your scent, so she can know you better.”
You tried to calm yourself, not wanting Vhagar to smell your fear – if that was something a dragon could smell. When she finally brought her snout almost to touching you before sniffing, each inhale sucking all the heat out of the air around you. After a moment, she withdrew slightly and made a noise that, had you not been merely thankful she hadn’t eaten you, you would have described it as a purr.
“She likes you,” Aemond said into your ear, pride dripping from each word. “She likes you very much. Would you like to pet her?”
A nervous laugh escaped you before you could stop it. “You want me to pet a dragon? Like she is a dog.”
“She enjoys it, I promise.” He lifted his hand from your side to take yours and guided it to the scales between her nostrils. “This is her favourite place. That’s it. You don’t have to scratch, just stroke her scales – be sure to follow their natural direction. She won’t like it if you tug on them.”
Vhagar continued to purr as you stroked her scales, only making contact with the downward motion. Your smile grew so wide your cheeks ached, and you could not help but laugh. “She’s like an old cat! A very big old cat.”
Aemond laughed with you, again hugging you to him as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “Be glad she can’t understand you, for she is a very grumpy big old cat.”
“I feel almost foolish to have been afraid,” you confessed as you ever so slightly bumped your head against his.
“We like to keep people – most people – afraid of the dragons. It makes them a more effective deterrent.” He nuzzled into you and sighed happily. “But I am glad you are not afraid. Would you like to ride her?”
“What?” You froze, looking up at Vhagar’s saddle high above you and the sky even higher still. “I, uh…”
Aemond shushed your frantic attempt to find words. “If you don’t want to, I won’t force you. It is a unique thrill to fly, but I understand it is not for everyone.”
You turned in his arms. “I would like to, eventually. But today, I believe I have already used all my bravery.”
Well, not all of it. But you only just had enough left to get you through your plans for the night, and you were determined to keep it.
“Then we shall return to the Keep,” he said, not a hint of disappointment on his face, “and wait for a day when your bravery has returned. It is approaching sunset, and I will be expected at dinner.”
You nodded, and Aemond said a farewell to Vhagar in Valyrian before leading you back to the wheelhouse. The two of you rode in comfortable silence back to the castle, until he again helped you out.
“I would like to come to dinner with you,” you told him as you walked through the doors of the Red Keep. “And then, after dinner, I would like you to wait an hour and then come to my rooms.”
Aemond blanched, then flushed, then let out a shaky exhale. “Of course,” he breathed, “whatever you want, my dear.”
-
When Aemond arrived in your chambers after dinner – during which he nearly jumped out of his chair each time you spoke or laid your hand on his thigh – you were sitting at the vanity, finishing with your hair. He puttered around in the solar for a moment before coming into the bedchamber, where he looked first to the bed and, upon not finding you there, began to glance around the rest of the room. When he finally turned your way, you met his eyes through the mirror and gave him an overly innocent grin as he took in your attire.
“I… what…?” His babbling continued for a moment before he quieted. For a long while, he just stared at you with an open mouth and a wide eye. He only composed himself again when you stood and approached him, stopping just before you were in arm’s reach of each other. “What are you wearing?”
“Don’t you like it?” You asked with a mischievous pout, glancing down to survey yourself. “You liked it well enough the first time you saw it.”
It took a moment for your words to sink in. You saw the moment he finally heard your words and immediately began to fumble over a reply. “Of course I like it! I more than like it, I adore it. You must know that I do. I just… why this?”
You took two steps forward, until you were close enough that Aemond had to look down to meet your eyes, and you had to look up to see his. Teasingly, you ran a hand over the neckline of your gown, across each pearl and jewel that adorned it. “I thought since you didn’t like my favourite nightclothes, I needed to find something else to entice you. This seemed a good option.”
Aemond murmured something so softly you couldn’t hear it, even as close as you were.
Another step had you standing chest to chest with your husband. You could feel him struggling to calm his breathing as he looked at you, entirely captivated and at your mercy.
Standing on your tiptoes so you could press your cheek to his, you took a moment to smile at the way his breath caught at the contact, and his hand hovered just above your waist, still unsure if he really could touch you. Then, you whispered gently in his ear, “I know you had plans to take this off me yourself, so I thought I’d give you the chance.”
Without giving him a moment to respond, you took several steps back to allow him the best possible view of your wedding gown.
Your maids had been perplexed when you asked that they retrieve it so you could wear it tonight, but they had not argued. Their only complaint was that it was not possible to replicate the braid from your wedding day in such a short amount of time. So, they simply arranged it as nicely as they could before the deadline you gave them and tucked each of the gold and pearl pins you had worn then back into the braids and curls.
With only a few minor differences, you looked precisely as you did on your wedding night.
But now you weren’t afraid of what Aemond would do. Now, you were eager to find out.
“I, uh…” he wrung his hands together as he stepped forward. “I believe we should begin with your hair.”
“Very well.” You flounced over to the vanity and retook your seat, watching him through the mirror as he cautiously approached.
He lifted a shaky hand and ran his hand slowly over the braids. “How do I begin?”
“Start by removing the pins, then brush out the braids.”
“And how many pins are there?”
“Forty-seven,” you answered smugly.
Aemond’s eyes went wide, “That many?”
“Why do you think it takes women so long to dress in the mornings? And undress at night?”
He laughed slightly, then took one of the pearl-tipped pearls between his fingers and gently pulled it out.
On your wedding day, you had thought the pins inordinately large. But seeing one in Aemond’s hands – his very large hands, they seemed miniscule.
“That’s one,” he said, depositing the pin on the surface of the vanity.
With each pin he removed, he kept count and laid each one in a perfectly straight line. But you could not be too amused by it, for each time you were, his hand would brush your neck, cup your head, or tangle into your hair. It had never felt like this when your maids tended to you.
Aemond was a dragon, and his touch was fire.
Each passing brush of his fingers burned within you, building into a raging fire or desire. By the time he finished, and laid the forty-seventh pin on the table, you were well flushed and practically panting. And as he looked to you for further direction, he could see it all. Your only consolation was that he looked as ragged as you.
“Now comb through the braids with your fingers to separate them,” you instructed. You did have a wide-toothed comb specifically meant for separating braids, but you were certainly not going to pass up the opportunity to have his hands in your hair again.
He reached for the first braid – the largest – and hooked his fingers into its base. “Please, tell me if I hurt you.”
“You won’t. I know it.”
“Your confidence is all I need,” he laughed, and began to pull his hand away. The braid spilt past his fingers with an ease you had rarely been fortunate enough to see before. So did the next, and the next, until your hair was once more free to spill down your back.
“Now I brush it?” Aemond asked, reaching for the silver-backed brush on the vanity.
But you stood before he could reach it, turning to him and pushing him slightly away. “You did well enough with your fingers that brushing is unnecessary. And… I know you are eager.” You had felt the hard evidence of it against your back as he stood behind you.
“I am,” he said, “but there are other things I must do first.” He cupped your face gently, his thumb slowly swiping over your cheekbone. His eye was focused solely on your lips but filled with apprehension. And as you watched the slight pursing of his mouth, the tightening of his jaw, and the slightest furrow of his brow, you were confident that you understood exactly what he was thinking.
Funny, he had been reading your thoughts for so long. Now, it seemed you had finally caught up with him.
“You don’t have to ask,” you whispered. “You may kiss me – I want you to kiss me.”
There was a flash of elated surprise, followed by a moment of anxiety, fueled by his desperate desire that tonight not be like before. The last time he had done this, you had shied away from him, asked that he not do the one thing he had been most desperate to do.
You could read it all on his face as clearly as the words in his diary.
So, you decided to ease his anxieties yourself. Seizing the lapels of his doublet, you pulled him down to you and kissed him.
It was far from perfect. You had been overzealous and pulled him with too much force, causing your teeth to clash together as your lips connected.
Neither of you was deterred. Aemond’s hand wrapped around the back of your neck, holding you steady as he kissed, and kissed, and kissed you.
It was like you were dancing – he led, and you followed. When he pressed forward, you allowed him to do so, leaning back to give him the room he needed while still holding him close. When he softly urged your lips to part with his tongue, you offered no resistance. And when he slid one arm around your waist to pull you flush against him, you ran your hand up his chest and into his hair, tugging slightly as you tried to draw him ever closer.
At that, Aemond moaned.
Instinctively, you pulled back, breaking the kiss. It was probably due to end soon anyways – both of you were panting and out of breath.
“What happened?” he asked, his face flashing between confusion and hurt. “What did I do wrong?”
“You did nothing wrong. I did!” You ran your hand out of his hair and held it up as though he could see the evidence upon it. “I hurt you; I apologise.”
Aemond smiled broadly and pulled you in for another kiss. “You did not hurt me,” he whispered when he pulled back. “I made that sound because I enjoyed it.”
“Oh!”
“I assure you,” he said as he guided your hand back into his hair, “you have my enthusiastic permission to continue.” Then he pulled you back in and kissed you again, and again, and again.
You decided that you very much liked kissing your husband, even when he slipped his tongue into your mouth. It was not the most pleasant of sensations for you but one you were willing to become accustomed to so long as it brought him pleasure.
It would have been very easy to stay like that all night, but you had endured putting this complicated gown on again for a reason – for Aemond.
So, with no minor difficulty, you pulled away from him, smiling when he moved to follow you.
“No, no,” you scolded playfully. “Before we continue, I insist you help me out of my dress.”
“Of course,” he answered, his voice nearly breaking with desperation. “Anything you ask of me, I will do.”
You turned slowly away from him and lifted your hair over one shoulder, exposing the lacing on the back of the gown. “Then I ask that you untie me, husband.”
He said nothing, but you felt him approach. Felt the heat of him just behind you and the ghost of his fingers at the base of your neck. You felt the light pressure as he gripped the white satin ribbon with one hand but not the other…
The other he wound around your waist to pull you closer, so that he could plant a chaste kiss against the side of your neck. You shivered at the sensation – the warmth slowly fading as he pulled back.
“I know we are both impatient,” he murmured against your skin, “but I want to savour this moment. Please, allow me to take my time.”
You raised an arm to draw him back to your lips. This kiss was not as hungry as the others. It was soft, sweet, and slow. “Take however long you need, Aemond. I am not going anywhere.”
And take his time he did. With every eyelet he unlaced, he kissed your neck again. As he lowered the sleeves one at a time, he kissed a path from your shoulder to your hands. When he untied your stockings, he rubbed the same soothing circles on your thighs that had once made you desperate for his touch.
Then suddenly, you were only in your shift, the chill of the night air prickling against your skin.
Aemond stood and began to fiddle with the hem of your sleeve. “If you don’t want… If you want to keep this on, I won’t mind.”
“I want this, I promise,” you guided his hand away from the sleeve and down toward the hem, ensuring he came quite close to the space between your thighs. “It’s easier to remove from the bottom.”
He seized the hem and lifted, before pressing his forehead to yours and kissing you again. “I love you. And I ask that you only say it back should you really, truly mean it. With all your heart.”
You knew he wanted to hear it, despite his words. His eye was too pleading, too filled with hope. And though you wanted to say it, just to make him happy, you couldn’t. Not will all your heart, at least. Aemond deserved for it to be true.
So instead, you kissed him, lacing your fingers with his to finally remove the shift and bare yourself to him.
If he minded the diversion, he did not say. In fact, given that you then watched his eye dilate as he looked down at your body, you were fairly confident that he didn’t mind at all. And you were very confident that he loved your breasts, as they were where his gaze always returned to.
“May I…?” he asked breathlessly, his hand floating just above your heart. But at this moment, it was not your heart he wanted, but what lay just beneath it.
Aemond didn’t hesitate to cup your breast in his large hand, covering it completely. Though his touch was warm, your nipples went taut as he slowly massaged one breast, then the other. He tested several different ways of holding them, of applying pressure to them, and even experimented with pinching your peaked nipples – for which you quickly put a limit on how tightly he could do so.
After a moment, he licked his lips and looked up at you for permission. A nod was all he needed to bend down and take your breast into his mouth, laying sloppy kisses all over their surface before rolling his tongue lazily over your nipples.
You had enjoyed all his ministration thus far, but that?
That had your head lolling back as you moaned his name, a moan you were not given the chance to finish before his mouth was again on yours – possessive and wanting.
“Get on the bed,” he panted, a far more passionate entreaty than it had been on your wedding night, and you were far more confident.
You resisted his attempts to pull you closer to the bed, and when he leaned in to try and ply you with more kisses, you countered by nipping the tip of his nose – lightly, but hard enough to get his attention.
“Please,” he begged, ‘please get on the bed.”
“I will, Aemond.” He whined at the breathy way you said his name, tightening his grip on your hips. “First, let me remove your clothes.”
His eye was so dilated you could hardly see any purple and more than half-lidded with lust, but he obeyed, taking a single step away after giving your soft flesh a little squeeze. “Start with the belt, then the doublet, then – ”
“I am fairly confident I can figure out how to remove your clothes,” you teased. Though it soon became clear your confidence was unfounded.
Just undoing the knot on his belt took far longer than you expected. He only laughed when you frustratedly asked why he needed to knot his belt when it already had a perfectly good buckle. Fortunately, the buckles on his doublet were far simpler, though they were small enough to still delay you.
When at last you were able to throw the damned doublet and belt aside, you took your frustrations out on his neck, kissing it with such enthusiasm that you nearly pushed him over. After that display of lust, Aemond was quick to assist you with his shirt and trousers.
The moment he was as bare as you, he tried to pull you onto the bed, but again, you resisted. You had only once seen him nude, but you had not been in the mood to admire his form then. Now, you were mesmerised by the sight before you.
A long neck leading to powerful shoulders, long arms that ended in long fingers, a long, lithe torso with many divots you longed to explore, and long, slender legs corded with muscle. Every single part of him was long. Especially…
“In your diagrams, you only included the female anatomy,” you mused as you approached him, eyes locked on his flushed, hard cock. “I feel I am at a significant disadvantage, since I don’t know – ” You shrieked as Aemond grabbed you by the waist and carried you to the bed, depositing you squarely in the middle before crawling over you and peppering your face with tender kisses.
“Believe me, it is far simpler with men,” he laughed as he descended down your chest. “I doubt you will need any formal instruction.”
Formulating a witty enough response was nearly impossible as he trailed his mouth down and down. Between your breasts, over your stomach, and then –
Then nothing. Aemond sat between your spread legs, lifting your hips to rest slightly on his knees. The grin he flashed was nothing short of pure evil. He held your gaze as he took his thumb briefly into your mouth before bringing it down to that little button at the top of your sex, only long enough to bring you a moment of pleasure before he slipped it further down to part your slick folds.
“Gods,” he sighed, swiping his thumb over your entrance to collect as much fluid as he could before bringing it back to circle your pearl agonisingly slowly. “I’d hoped you’d be wet, but… I never expected this.”
You bucked your hips, trying to get him to go faster, press harder, something. Until now, you had only ever had the briefest tastes of pleasure, but now you craved more. You craved him.
“Please, Aemond!” you squealed as he finally pressed his thumb down harder.
“Give me a moment, my dear,” he said smugly. “I thought it would take longer to get you to this point. I’m having to reassess my plan.”
“Fuck your plan!” you shouted, more helplessly than you intended, judging by Aemond’s answering laugh. “Please, just do something – anything!”
“I am doing something!” he countered, emphasising his point by quickening his movements. “And it looks to me as though you’re enjoying it.”
Damn it, you were. But still, it wasn’t enough. You squeezed your eyes shut and threw your head back against the pillow, moaning incoherently.
“Oh, my poor darling,” Aemond cooed, “you really are desperate, aren’t you?”
You felt tears prickle in your eyes as you nodded furiously, only managing to again say “please.”
He slowed his thumb to a stop and crawled back over you, until your faces were level. “Open your eyes, love.” You obeyed, and were rewarded with a soft kiss on your forehead. “Good girl. I’m going to give you more now, but you must promise that if it hurts or if it gets to be too much, you must tell me. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” you squeaked pathetically.
Aemond kissed you one last time before he retook his position between your legs, once more gathering your slick on his pointer finger before slowly – so, so slowly – pushing it inside you. It was a different feeling from his cock; not quite as pleasurable, but the discomfort on entry was far less.
“Is that alright?” he asked, and you nodded. “I’m going to move it now. Please tell me when I’ve found the correct spot.”
You didn’t have a chance to respond before he crooked his finger and found that ‘spot.’ The one he wrote about in his diary, the one that brought nearly the same pleasure as your pearl.
Aemond’s studying has undoubtedly paid off.
Your back arched so dramatically that he had to anchor you to the bed with his free hand on your hip. “There it is,” he crooned, utterly prideful, “do you want me to keep going?” You answered with a slew of yeses that blended into a happy hissing sound, then turned into a loud moan as he inserted another finger into you, crooking it along with the other to massage that magical little spot. “You’re doing so well, my love.”
You were too engulfed in your pleasure that you hardly even noticed the new term of endearment. All you knew was his fingers inside you, stoking a fire that burned brighter, brighter, brighter.
Everything felt hot, and soon a sheen of sweat covered your skin. You took a deep breath, angling your hips almost unconsciously, but in a way that somehow heightened your pleasure enough for your body to shake. There was tension in every muscle, a delightful tension that had you clenching your fists in the sheets and curling your toes to try and relieve. It built and built, focusing on where Aemond was touching you, where his fingers went in and out and pressed and stroked.
It was too much. Your body couldn’t possibly endure this. This was where you had always stopped when you were exploring on your own – this was past that point, and Aemond was only taking you further and further.
“Aemond, please,” you begged. What for, you didn’t know. You didn’t want him to stop, but you were afraid to discover what would happen next.
He sped his movements, watching your face with a heart-stopping intensity in his eye. “Don’t hold it in, love,” he said, splaying his free hand across your stomach. “Give into it, let it go, release.”
The word may well have been a command, for the moment he finished speaking, you let go. Lightning coursed through you, and all your limbs froze and went numb for a moment that felt like it lasted a whole year. The tension dissipated, and all of a sudden you could breathe again, feel again, think again.
“Was that…?”
Aemond’s thumb stroked your belly, the delicate touch making you realise that he had removed his fingers from you and now held them just before his lips. “It was your peak, my love.” Never looking away from you, he took the fingers that were inside you into his mouth, sucking on them as if they were the sweetest candied lemons. “Forgive me, but I think I’d like another.”
It happened so quickly. One moment, he was kneeling between your legs. The next, Aemond had pushed you further up the bed so he could lay on his stomach and drape your legs over his shoulders, his hands holding your rear as he pulled you up until your cunt was pressed to his mouth.
Your hands flew into his hair, simultaneously tugging at it and yet trying to pull him closer. His tongue was surely some kind of miracle. How else would it feel so wonderful as he licked up every drop of moisture between your thighs before pressing into your core?
More miraculous still was his nose, for every time he pushed deeper, it pressed against your pearl, rubbed against it each time he angled his head. He quickly noticed what, exactly, was driving you wild, and took to shaking his head back and forth to make you scream – and scream you did.
“Gods, Aemond, please!” You cried as the delicious tension returned, still crackling with electricity. This was far more intense than his fingers had been, and far faster to take you to that place where you had nearly no control over your own body.
Nearly no control. Some instinct deep within you, which had no purpose but to seek animalistic pleasure, took hold of you. Your hand in his hair tightened so hard he again moaned, sending vibrations through you that nearly pushed you over the edge of your pleasure. But what finally sent you tumbling over was when he allowed you to pull him up until his lips latched around your pearl, and after several long, lingering licks of his tongue, he hummed, and you screamed anew.
When you opened your eyes again, Aemond was once more hovering above you, looking at you as though your reddened, sweaty face was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. You were certain that guards would come streaming into the chambers at the sound, swords drawn, but none did. It was still only you and your husband. He seemed entirely content, but when you glanced down at his cock, you found it so flushed that you were sure it hurt.
“I should…” your voice faded as you reached down to touch the heavy length of him. “I don’t know how, but you could show me.”
Aemond smiled softly, his half-lidded eye seeming to glaze over for a moment. “Another time, I would like nothing more. But tonight…” He leaned down to press a slow, lust-filled kiss to your swollen lips and rested his forehead against yours when he finally withdrew. “Please don’t make me wait any longer, my love.”
Eagerly, you nodded. You were absolutely resolved to learn how to pleasure him – with your hands and mouth–. Still, it seemed a daunting task, and your body was aching to find out what Aemond could do once he was inside you.
So, you did not argue as he reached down to align himself with your entrance. But he did not yet push forward. Supporting himself with one arm, he gave you another short kiss and stroked your hair.
“I promise,” he whispered, “it will be better this time.”
You leaned into his touch and shifted your hips to try and draw him closer. When Aemond hesitated again, you looked into his eye and raised a hand to cup his cheek. “I know it will. Now please, I don’t want to wait either.”
Then he buried himself inside you in one powerful thrust.
There was still a slight pinch of uncomfortable pressure at the start, but it did not last long. And compared to the pleasure it brought you, it was entirely inconsequential. You felt full in the most wonderful way, as if you had been missing something your whole life and finally found it. Warm, like he had lit a fire within you that would burn for the rest of your days. Safe, as though nothing could ever harm you again.
You felt right.
During that moment of stillness, where you both adjusted to the feeling of joining, you buried your face in Aemond’s neck. There was nothing but him, his silver hair blocking the rest of the world from view as his scent enveloped you. Perhaps you could just stay like this forever. That was a delightful thought. You nuzzled further into him as you let out a sigh of contentment.
Aemond tensed and whispered your name. “Does it hurt? Did I not prepare you well enough?”
“No,” you replied, still not pulling away. As the desperate need for even more closeness began to well up in your chest, you wrapped the hand that was cupping his cheek around his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin for how tightly you held him. “It just… it feels – you feel amazing. I wish it had always felt like this.”
“It will now,” Aemond replied, turning to place a kiss atop your head. He, too, sought to bring you closer. He brought his hand down to your waist and pulled you up so that your chests met and moved together as you breathed together. “I promise it will always feel this good. Perhaps better, once we practice a little more.”
“Oh yes!” you squeaked, finally dropping your head back to the pillow so you could look at him. “Let’s do lots of practice!”
With a laugh, he raised his brows in mock questioning. “Might I suggest we start now?”
Words escaped you for a moment, and all you could do was nod vigorously, like a child that had just been offered a whole tray of cakes. Your agreement and excitement seemed to delight Aemond, causing him to smile so wide his eyes crinkled. You instantly decided that you wanted to see that smile every day. Every hour. Every minute. For that smile was brighter than the sun itself.
“Put your legs around me, love,” he instructed, curling his hand around your thigh to guide you. Once you were positioned exactly how he wanted you, he pulled himself slightly closer to the headboard and leaned in for one last kiss, stopping just above your lips. “Are you ready?”
“Yes,” you breathed against him, “so very ready.”
-
Aemond stayed in your bed all night, continuing to pleasure you until it was all you could do to keep your eyes open. Then, he stroked your hair while assuring you he was not leaving, which did not calm your panic when he got out of bed. But he soon returned, carrying a carafe of water and a damp towel. He murmured praises in your ear as he cleaned you and then himself, and commanded that you drink at least one full glass of water before you fell asleep.
You obeyed and afterwards fell asleep tucked into his chest. The next morning, you did not remember your last words to your husband before you drifted off, but he certainly did.
“I’m sorry I can’t say I love you,” you’d whispered, only half-awake, “but if you give me some time, I’m sure I can.”
Those words echoed through his mind as he slept, dreaming of a life where he would not have to walk halfway across the castle to reach his separate rooms. Where he could sleep like this, with his arms around you, every night. Where when he told you he loved you, you would respond in kind.
A dream he hoped he could live very soon. But until then, he would give you all the time you needed.
Waking from that dream was nearly a nightmare in itself, until he looked over and saw you still in his arms, still fast asleep. Your hair was a mess, and your nose was scrunched as you dreamed, but he loved every bit of it. He told you as much when you finally awoke.
When you insisted on following him to his rooms so you could attend the morning meal together, he did not protest. He loved watching you look around each chamber, your mind racing as you imagined how you would decorate the blank walls. He loved that, too.
What he did not love was that when you walked into the dining room, hand in hand, Aegon instantly perked up in his chair. His eyes darted between you and Aemond with dizzying speed before he raised his brows and mouthed, “Did she come?”
Aemond only glared at him, but you smiled and nodded, then held up seven fingers.
Begrudgingly, he loved that, too.
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