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rushtoprove · 2 years

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our little secret

part two: revenge

pairing: aemond targaryen x f!reader chapter: 2 rating: teen and up word count: 5k+ summary: aemond promised to take you as his wife when the time was right and you had no reason to doubt him. but when news of his engagement to cassandra baratheon is announced, and your name is left ruined by his nightly visits to your chamber, you have no choice but to flee from the shame you have brought upon your family and to run from the man you love. but not all is as it seems chapter summary: three years pass you by and you remain exiled from everyone you once held dear. when news reaches dorne that aemond is to visit the city, you must quickly find a way to seek the revenge you think you deserve. warnings: sexual references and nsfw scenes. period typical misogyny and course language. chapters: 1 / 2 notes: there has got to be an easier way to do taglists oh my lord. there has been such an insane reaction to this fic and i'm on cloud nine. i also got lots of requests on how this was going to play out and i'm very sorry if it's not how you imagined but hopefully you can still enjoy. I will definitely be posting another chapter after this but i THINK that will be it :P

It had been a long three years for you. Overwhelmed by heartbreak and despair, and barely breathing from bitterness and rage, this time had passed in a tidal wave of emotion. You had spent many nights weeping for Aemond Targaryen while crying out for you family and your home. You missed the gentleness of his touch, and the grip he held on to you in your long nights of passion. You craved how low his voice was when he whispered his poetic words, and the laugh he swore he only shared with you. Desperate for the feeling of your mother’s embrace and missing the way your brother would walk you around the grounds every morning, you thought you might die from your depression. You missed it all.

You sent letter upon letter to your family, imploring them to allow you home, and to see reason. You begged them to accept your deepest apologies, but not one was returned. You found yourself alone and abandoned in Dorne, a city you grew up to believe it was nothing more than debauchery and sin wherever you turned. For the first four months of your banishment, you refused to leave your room. You hardly ate the food that was delivered by your handmaiden, and your curtains were never pulled back. The days passed you by, but you did not know, for you were curled up beneath your blankets, praying to wake up from this nightmare. You were lucky, your banishment ended with you being a guest in Sunspear, the castle that home the noble House Martell. You could have been banished to the streets of silk or left to rot in the gutters of the Stormlands, but instead you were homed with the ruling lords of Dorne.

After a year of wondering around in a cloud of misery and despair, something inside you broke. Quickly you found yourself cursing the cruel prince for the way he had led you to believe his lies. How could you have been so foolish to believe a prince would consider taking you as a wife. You allowed him to keep you in a daze, submissive to his needs in a desperate belief that you would have your fairy tale ending. Suddenly you found yourself enraged by the memory of your controlling family who never once seemed to care for your needs. You do not remember a day in your whole life that your father had ever asked how you fair. Nor do you recall your mother ever standing up for you when your father would push you into the sights of old, savage and vulgar men for courting. Your brother was still young enough to be kind when needed but give a few years and he would be sure to follow in his father’s shadow.

Slowly your overwhelming desire to be with those you loved, turned into a desperate need for revenge. It kept you up at night. Your mind conjured up different ways to take the vengeance you so desperately craved but nothing seemed to hit the way you wanted. You knew it was not as serious as to murder, nor was it something you would even be able to stomach. You thought of sending more letter’s, declaring your hatred and resentment for all those who wronged you, but it was not enough. You didn’t know what you would do, but you were sure it would be something magnificent.

It was Prince Maron Martell, that came to you with a solution.

It was he, who ventured to your rooms every day, willing you to leave your darkened chambers, and it was he who succeeded in bringing you out into his father’s court. The way he spoke so freely, and acted so carelessly, brought you nothing but jealousy. You despised that it be so easy for a man to act immoral, to drink and fuck and sleep, and there be no consequence. No banishment. You were shamed for enjoying even the simplest of pleasures.

After one-to-many wine’s you allowed yourself to confess this.

“You are in Dorne little lady. We do not care for that judgement here. Pleasure and satisfaction are natural for the human body. Who are we to stop anyone from reaching true euphoria? If I do not care, and that woman under the arch over there does not care, nor does that boy behind the fountain care, why do you care so much?” You didn’t understand at first. The idea that pleasure was not to be hidden. You had spent so long hiding behind the closed doors of Aemond’s chamber, both trying to hide the sounds that your bodies desperately wished to make. You could not be seen making any advances in the eye of the court, nor could you allow the risk of anyone catching glimpses of small touches even in the darkest of corners. You had spent so long on edge, ashamed and frightened of what would happen if you were ever caught in the prince’s arms. It was immoral for a woman to partake in such activities for her own enjoyment, worst yet an unmarried one.

“I do not get the same freedom you do Maron. Women in this world are born to be caged. I am caged by my father. I shall be caged by my brother. My husband will likely close me up in the smallest cage of all. I shall never know freedom and I was a reckless whore for allowing myself to succumb to such depravity. Look where it got me.” You huffed at his care-free attitude as you swung a deeper gulp from your wine. You were already flushed from the scorching heat of the Dornish sun but sitting beneath it for a picnic with jugs upon jugs of wine was a terrible idea and you thought your face would melt then and there.

“Such harsh words from my favourite little lady. You are much too hard on yourself. Also I have sent many Dornish dresses to your room girl. You need to wear them. Your Westeros dresses are much too thick, I fear you shall pass out any second.”

“I cannot. It would be improper.” You let out a nervous laugh as you thought of the sheer dresses hanging in your cupboard. The way it felt as if you hardly wore anything. The materiel was too light, and you felt more exposed than you ever felt. Even if it did allow the wind to cool your temperature and the air allowed your skin to breathe, you could not think of the scandal it would create if your father found out.

Then one day, you did not care.

You found yourself gliding through the palace in the dresses with such ease you could not understand the trepidation you had to start with. Soon you became a frequent guest at the scandalous parties Prince Maron would hold every full moon and you finally allowed yourself to succumb to the pleasure and freedom that Dorne offered. You concerned yourself less and less for your appearance, your family name and instead you found yourself liberated. You had never felt so light and blissful. Without the watchful eyes of the courtiers and family members, and without the overwhelming need to please Aemond Targaryen, you were released from your misery.

Your awakening had been almost two years of uninterrupted freedom. But one day, it was ruined.

“Your past lover and his prudish family are coming to visit.” The words fell from Prince Maron’s lips so casually you could have almost missed it. But the strawberry you were about to draw to yours was quickly tossed down in shock.

“Pray tell… what do you mean?” Your heart raced as you felt your body still. As if a single move could destroy everything that you had built up. Memory upon memory of your once true love flashed through your mind making your heart ache punishingly hard. For a second you thought you might be experiencing a heart attack.

"The Targaryen's.” His hand quickly shot out and he brought your abandoned fruit to his lips with a smirk. He loved to frustrate you during your friendship, and it irritated you to no ends. With a deep breath and some calming words in your mind, you felt yourself recline in your seat and stare. You would not allow your past to disrupt everything you had built for yourself.

“Why do they come? Kings Landing hates Dorne. The Targaryen’s hate Dorne. Dorne hates Kings Landing. The Martell’s hate Kings Landing.” Maron hissed out in agreement before laughing at your declaration.

“Ah yes, I do hate those fucking Targaryen’s and Kings Landing, and you want to know something? I hate Aemond Targaryen most of all. Have I ever told you that?” You frowned at his confession. He had not mentioned this even after you had spent months weeping in his arms over everything Aemond had put you through. Although it still morning, you found yourself reaching for the wine to continue this conversation.

“I did not know you were acquainted.”

“Not long before you arrived here, our family welcomed Prince Aemond for a week. He was on some diplomatic mission or some fuckery. He was a miserable cunt, and everyone believed him to be arrogant and rude, but my sister Nymeria…” Taking in a deep breath, Marion flattened his hands and looked sadly down to his plate with the familiar distance in his eyes that always flooded him when he mentioned Nymeria. “Nymeria became besotted. In only a week she declared he was the love of her life. Begged us to let her wed him.” It was as if Marion had reached his fingers inside her chest, just to clutch your heart and squeeze it with a formidable force.

“Aemond seems to have that affect.” You looked away, desperately trying to fight the jealousy that coursed through your veins. It should be no surprise that Aemond was courting yet another woman during your time with him. You tried hard not to think about how many more there could have been.

“Yes. My little sister, my sweet little sister, was absolutely infatuated. So much so that she declared it for him. I remember how nervous she was, how hard she paced as she planned what she would say. They walked around the gardens for hours, and everyone thought it must have worked and that Nymeria would come back Princess of Westeros. But the miserable cunt turned her down. Flew away on his dragon and left her heart broken. Just like you, I spent my days bundling her up in my arms trying to soothe her cries. Aemond had told her he could not marry her for he was promised to another and not two months later, the news of his engagement to Cassandra Baratheon was announced.” You flinched at the name while pursing your lips to try and hide the way you were willing yourself not to cry. The thought of Aemond with his wife was already something you battled before sleep every night, you did not need the image during the day.

“Did he…” You don’t know why you asked because you were sure the answer would bring you nothing but more pain, and gods, you were over pain.

“Did he have her? She said no. You know those men like to keep their wife until marriage. I shall never know the truth.” He had not waited to have you. He did not plan to wed you.

“Perhaps he has a need, a pride, to break young girls' hearts. Perhaps it darkens his already black heart.” You twirled your finger upon the rim of the goblet you drank from while Prince Marion pondered upon your words.

“Perhaps. Or perhaps he is so careless he simply does not think of what is at stake to those around him. Only a few days after the news of his betrothal Nymeria was taken by a fever. I do not blame him for her sickness. But I will not have him parading around with his family proudly within our walls while my sister spent her dying moments wasting her tears on him. I wish to seek revenge for my sister… and I know you want your own form of retribution from the young prince.” Meeting his eye, you noticed the gleam of excitement. You could not lie; you were interested in what he had in mind.

“Hmmm.” You leaned on your elbow upon the table and allowed your chin to rest upon your palm as your amusement overtook your heartache.

“Wed me.” You could not contain the laugh the passed through your smirking lips.

“Wed you?”

“Yes. Wed me.”

“It may have escaped you, but I'm not your usual type.” He cackled at your words, knowing full well that he was attracted to his squires and court men and could not imagine being intimate with a woman. As dear as you were to him.

“Obviously my little lady. But just while he is here. We announce our engagement and partake in activities with a united front. Your ghosts need not know the truth. Let them think you are to wed me. Your family is within the royal party and shall be attending as well. Let your family think you are to marry into the greatest house in Westeros. And let the fickle little prince think his lover has been taken by a much prettier, stronger prince.” You were both laughing, but you knew the fatal flaw in his grand plan.

“Aemond cares not for me. I was just another body to warm his bed, and he left me discarded without a second thought. He will not care that you have me. Hells, he will likely not remember me at all.” The truth left you disheartened, but Marion only laughed harder.

“Those bastards from your little city are all the same. A man like Aemond will always consider you, his property. He has you once and in his mind no one else can have you again. I will never understand the greed and selfishness of your people. The ownership you all feel over your pleasure. Aemond shall know you, and he shall definitely care when he sees you by my side. Trust me.” You let your mind take over as you pondered on his proposition. If Aemond and your family were to arrive, you would have no choice but to see them during the dinners and banquets and the gloom that lingered over you at the mere thought sent a shiver racing down your spine. But the idea of your family having to bow as you took your position beside Prince Marion, and the thought of Aemond’s shocked gaze as you wrap a loving arm around your betrothed made the dark future a little brighter.

It was not murder. Nor was it letters. But you considered this the perfect revenge for those who wronged you.

+++

You did not go and greet the royal party upon their arrival. The Martell’s simply apologised that Prince Marion’s future wife could not make it. No one spared a second thought. Tonight, however, Marion was holding a masked ball in honour of the honoured guests. You knew now that it was the time to creep out from the shadows you had been banished to. Embarrassingly enough, however, a small part of you still found yourself waiting for a knock at your door as you readied yourself for the grand banquet. You don’t know if you wanted Aemond or your family to be behind it and you would never know, for they never came.

The nerves got the better of you, and you ended up an hour late to the festivities. Sneaking through a side door, you managed to enter without being seen and quickly blended into the hall full of masked figures. Fire twirlers and dancers hanging from silk upon the roof entertained the already drunken crowd, leaving no one to pay attention to your late arrival. The hall was deafeningly loud, with the music and the laughter battling one another. The atmosphere reeked of wine and food and the hall was humid from the fire and the dancing bodies. A banquet in Kings Landing would never be this exciting.

“Hello beautiful.” You felt an arm wrap tightly around you, drawing you in and leaving you facing a drunken fool. His breath was hot, and the smell of mead was bitter to your senses, leaving you nauseated.

“Get the fuck off.” You grunted, shoving him away in anger. The cunt swore under his breath before stumbling away, off to hunt down another victim, you were sure. The moment he moved; however, your vision was cleared, and you could see who sat upon the royal table. Gods, you wished you hadn’t.

“Handsome. Aren’t they?” Someone laughed as you were caught staring up at the silver haired figures. The entire Targaryen family were shoulder to shoulder as they put on a united front against the Dornish gaze. Your glare was stuck on Aemond, who stood proudly as he gazed down at those who he probably considered beneath him. He was still as handsome as ever, with his sharp jawline and glorious Targaryen hair. His posture was still flawless, and his black leather still fit his slender body perfectly. His eye was still covered by his eye patch, and you thought back to the last time you had seen him. The way he had bowed himself to you while you slid it from his face. The lies he told you when he said he only allowed you to gaze upon what was hidden beneath. Everything he ever promised you was now nothing but lies in your mind. You hated how handsome he looked, and you hated the way your heart raced the way it used to all those years ago. You wanted to scream right then and there, but you breath was caught in your throat.

Impossible as you thought it could be, you swore that when he looked into the crowd, he found you. But it was impossible. You had imagined the way his eye had widened, and the small step forward he had taken. He could not have known it you beneath the mask you wore. There were too many people around you for him to even spot your figure in the horde. Yet, for that very moment, your world stopped. The entire hall faded, and everything went quiet as you stood, staring at your lost love. The few seconds in your mind where it was just you and him, was bliss.

You thought back to the first time you met Aemond Targaryen. Your first-time meeting happened to be your first time alone with him. Your family had been invited to live in the Red Keep alongside your father as he made his way up the hierarchy of power. You cared little for his scheming, but the idea of living in a castle was exciting enough. The idea of living in a place with such ancient libraries was even more. You spent your days huddling in different corners, sprawling lazily in the window’s light or simply sitting by the empty fireplace in the corner, devouring every book you could get your hands on.

“It’s beginning to irritate me that you are stealing all the interesting books.” He had been watching you quietly from the balcony above every time you had wondered into his spot. It was his only place he could have peace and quiet, until you came along. For some unknown reason, he did not seem to mind.

“Prince Aemond. Apologies for interrupting.” You had gasped out, reddened in shock at the sight of him. He had slowly descended towards you, like a hunter to its prey. You felt something shift inside you that very moment.

“No matter. I see you hiding around here almost all hours of the day. What is your name?”

And for two months you had spent your days hiding within the library with your prince. It started innocently enough, sharing book suggestions and discussing his philosophy studies. Sometimes you think, you can’t remember what led to you spending your night squirming beneath his devilish touch.

You cursed yourself for reliving the memories of your past and for falling back to your foolish ways so easily. Turning to the idiot who asked the question in the first place, you grunted out your reply.

“I’ve seen better.” Marching away in frustration, you practically ran to the table that held the jugs of wine. One of the servants tried to slowly pour a glass, but you simply snatched the jug and filled your goblet to the very top. Downing it quickly, you poured another. It was beyond frustrating that after everything Aemond Targaryen had done, and after all the healing you had been through, you were still reduced to a love struck fool the moment you saw him again.

No. You would not allow this.

Turning quickly on your heel, your eyes darted between the courtiers and lords, trying to find the perfect one. Even with masks, you recognised familiar faces. Jason Lannister stood happily beside some poor young girl who only barely looked of age. The young Baratheon lord who once sent a poem a day to your rooms once upon a time was standing amongst some Dornish men trying to see who could gulp down a barrel of spiced wine the quickest. The Tyrell first-born who had promised to sail you around the world way back when, lay passed out beneath one of the fire dancers' stages. It was Aemond, and the thought of what could be, that had led you to reject the advances of all these men, but looking around now, it was obvious you had made the right decision.

“My wife… please listen…” You were shoved harshly from the left, leaving you stumbling to gain composure, while a light-footed woman darted past in anger. Your body recovered, but your heart began crumbling as you watched your brother try and chase the woman who was shoving her way through the crowd.

“Go back to that flexible dancer you bastard. I can tell you were enjoying watching!” Without a second glance, your brother pushed himself further, and swept you to the side so he could chase after his wife, leaving you trying to fight the ache in your heart. Your brother, whom you had adored from the moment you were born, had been wed without anyone giving you any information. Perhaps he had children, and now you were an aunt? What else had you missed out on?

“Excuse me, my lady?” Finally tearing your eyes from the sight of your brother, you turned to see a Lord bowed before you. His brown curls tumbled down his toned shoulders and sat pretty against his white undershirt that he had taken to only wearing in this heat.

“Yes?” You frowned at him, but taking in his muscular body, and his towering height, you knew you had found the right one. You did not need to do anything for it seemed he had come to act out your desire on his own accord.

“I am Lord Cregan Stark. I was hoping I may steal you away for this dance.” His hand extended out to you, and you happily grasped on to it with a seductive laugh.

“Oh, you may.” You had taken a liking to the toned man already, and you melted as everyone brushed to the side quickly to let through his towering form. But he was too gentle. You could barely feel his touch as he guided you to the starting position of the dance, and when you began moving, he did not pull you any closer than need be.

“A Stark in Dorne? I did not think your house left the snow for anything.” You let your fingernail drag over his bicep as you spun and felt a sense of pride in the way he clenched at the sensation.

“My younger sister Sara wished to visit the court of King Viserys. I am simply her humble guard. We did not realise a visit to Kings Landing would end up being a trip to Dorne.”

“And do you like Dorne?” He pondered on your question for a moment, before sadly shaking his head.

“No. And I don’t like Kings Landing either. It is much too hot for my Winterfell raised body.” You smiled at his bluntness; happy he was truthful in your conversation. But you were given no time to reply. A brawl broke out in the centre of the hall, and you felt yourself swept back in the horde of people moving away from the violence. Screams began ringing out and soon everyone began pushing harshly against one another to escape or join in on the savagery.

“Sara!” Cregan cried out as he craned his neck to look around the hall. You pushed him arm away from your shoulder as he tried to keep you away from the commotion.

“Go and find her! I will be alright.” He looked at you for a split second, before giving you a grateful nod and pushing his way in to the centre of the circle. It seemed the brutality was only gaining more force and you found yourself being shoved around harshly, rattling your brain and leaving you breathless and dizzy.

“Marion!?” You cried out, trying your best to push your way out of the stampede of feet and arms failing around you. Just when you thought you had reached the outer circle of the fight, the crowd surged in your direction, and you felt yourself fly towards the stone floor beneath you. You cried out in fear and threw your hands forward, bracing yourself from an impact that never came.

“There you are sweetheart. Sorry I’m late, I was looking everywhere for you.”

You could have cried. The familiar safety of his arms wrapping around your body almost broke you then and there. The voice that haunted your dreams was so smooth, you forgot everything. When he pulled you tightly into his chest and moved you forwards, carrying you from the danger, you couldn’t help uttering his name from your lips.

“Aemond…” You whispered, your eyes closing in relief as you found yourself able to breathe again. You felt him brush the hair that had been stuck by sweat to your forehead and began caressing the side of your face as you relaxed into his arms. You were still overcome with dizziness from the ordeal.

“My love, this is where you’ve been hiding from me, I see.” You don’t recall if you imagined the crack in his voice or not. You struggled to breath properly leaving Aemond to run his hand along your back in worry, and he pressed a firm kiss to your temple. He did not see the tear the escaped your closed eyes.

“You…” You croaked out, before quickly shaking your head. Pushing against him, Aemond tumbled back with a start and stood staring at you in shock. You kept shaking your head as you stumbled backwards, trying to rid yourself from the warmth that had taken over you by his touch.

“Stop. Come back I… I must look upon you longer. I must convince myself that you are real and that you will not fade before my eye.” He stalked forward to grasp your hands, but you quickly ripped them away and shook harder. You thought it might be pain that flashed across his face, but it was surely not.

“NO! You do not get to look upon me! You do not get to touch me! I will not let you whisper your words any longer!” You tried to steady yourself on a tree, and only just realised Aemond had pulled you into the gardens for safety and fresh air. You heard him move behind you, and without thinking you quickly began walking forward. You don’t know where you were going but you just wanted to be away from him. You remembered the way he would chase you around his bedchamber when you would deny him a kiss unless he caught you. You pictured the memory of him finally wrapping you up and shoving you against the wall while clutching your hair and kissing you with unimaginable passion. The memories were too much to bare and you ran you fingers vigorously through your hair, as if trying to peel them away.

“Stop! No, I won’t let you run away again!” You heard Aemond quickly move to follow you, making your walk turn into a run. Dashing forward without a second thought, you ran straight into the entrance of the maze at the centre of the garden, running faster as you heard Aemond’s heavy foot falls behind you. You weaved around corners and took sharp turns in different directions, hoping to lose the prince who was desperately trying to follow. He was muttering and growling in frustration every time your body slipped away from his reach.

“Leave me Aemond! I do not wish to see you!” You cried out as you stormed around another corner. Aemond called out your name while ignoring your plea and chasing after you even faster.

“Well, that is too bad! You owe me this do you not think!?” His voice was weaved with anger, and you could hear the way he was shoving away the branches and trying to rip his way through to you.

“I owe you nothing!” You were shocked by his nerve, but you thought him just trying to provoke you. Marion was right. Men like Aemond would always think himself an owner over those he takes to bed, but you would not allow him to have that control over you. How dare he think you owe him anything after he played you a fool?

“Just come to me so we can…. please just let me talk to you once more.” You shivered at the desperation in his voice. He was a brilliant actor. Perhaps if he wasn’t born a prince, he would be in plays.

“We have nothing to discuss Prince Aemond. You should find your way back to the ball, it is in your honour.” You found yourself back at the very start of the maze, so you bundled up your skirts and took off in the direction of the feast. You heard Aemond cry out your name in protest, begging for you to return to him, but you paid no mind. You did not imagine you would hear your name on his lips once more. Tumbling into the open doors, you were quickly swept up in Marion’s arms.

“Where the fuck did you end up?” He laughed in relief, bundling you up and pressing a firm kiss on your forehead.

“Don’t ask.” You moaned into his neck. You held him tightly, desperate for some relief to the pain you were feeling.

“Aemond!” You heard the cry of Queen Alicent, and could only assume that the prince had followed you in. The hall was emptied of its guests and all that was left was a small handful of noblemen who seemed to have been waiting for the safe arrival of Aemond after such vicious fighting.

You thought you would feel a small satisfaction that he would be greeted with the sight of you wrapped up in Marion’s arms, but instead you felt cold and empty. Once more Aemond whispered your name, but you did not turn and instead focused your attention on Marion. With a small squeeze on your elbow, Marion placed a kiss upon your forehead and wrapped a loving arm around your waist.

“Ah Prince Aemond! A thousand thank-you’s for returning my betrothed to me so safe and sound. I was overwhelmed with worry.” Aemond’s intake of breath was sharp and loud as Marion declared you his future wife. You hid yourself behind so that no one saw the tears well in your eyes.

“My son… come.” Alicent ordered sadly, almost pitifully.

“Is this true?” Aemond snapped.

“Yes! I have found myself quite fond of my little lady.” In fact, I…” Marion was cut off by Aemond raising his voice.

“Will you not at least have the decency to fucking face me?” He seethed out. You could stand it no longer. Stumbling forward once more, you walked briskly towards the exit. Your brother and father stood to the side, jaws slack as they took you in, but you cared not. All you wanted was to be alone inside your bedchamber to wallow in your despair. You just wanted to be alone.

You did not see the way Aemond stared at your shrinking figure in despair.

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i don't know why some names don't link sorry

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al-the-remix · 2 months

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Six Sentence Saturday (or something like that)

Starting on my second bucktommy fic 😌 This was inspired by a post I'm pretty sure @unfuckablebogtroll made a few months ago that I can't find anymore, but the gist is that Tommy buys his house during the 2007/8 financial crash, refinances during covid, and has been saving since then to be able to renovate it himself. In this fic Buck's obviously going to volunteer to help Tommy out ( with his previous construction experience and all) and slowly insinuate himself into Tommy's home without either of them fully realizing it...at first. Buck learns Tommy as he learns more about his house: starting the inside and working outwards. Meanwhile Tommy learns how to let people help him and that Buck's really in it for the long haul ✨

“Hey, can I ask you a question?”

Looking over his shoulder, Tommy raises a brow. He’s elbow-deep in Evan’s kitchen sink, warm, sudsy water tickling his skin as he finishes the last of the dinner dishes. Evan made a chicken parm that had Tommy contemplating the existence of God and carefully planning the head he’d be giving his boyfriend later. As long as Tommy had known him–which was admittedly not very long–Evan has been a shoot first, ask questions later kind of guy. More likely to barrel through any awkwardness than couch his questions in some kind of lead up. “Of course you can, you know that.”

Evan takes the plate Tommy offers him in hand, drying it and setting it aside, his expression just hesitant enough to give Tommy pause.

“Why do we always hang out at my place?”

The question startles a laugh from him. That…wasn’t what Tommy had been expecting. “We don’t, sometimes we go on dates.” Tommy allows his face to settle, faux serious and gently teasing. “Are you claiming I’m not romancing you enough Buckley, because I take that accusation very seriously.”

It gets him the reaction he was hoping for: Evan rolls his eyes like he’s aiming to hit 20 Klicks into the stratosphere and keep climbing. He can hear Evan's common refrain in his head, only coworkers call me Buckley, and I don’t even want to contemplate explaining what we’ve been up to to HR.

“Ha, ha. You know that’s not what I meant. You don’t think it’s a little weird that it’s been two months and I haven’t made it past your garage?”

Tommy’s brain goes straight to the gutter, but Evan’s arms are crossed over his chest in what Tommy has come to learn is a tell-tale sign of him feeling a little insecure.

Tommy tucks away the innocent expression he’d been pulling and sighs, yanking the plug and reaching for the discarded towel to wipe his hands clean. “I mean, it’s a shorter drive for me to come here from Harbour than make you slog it all the way out to mine. I was just trying to make things easier on you.”

Evan holds up his hands like he’s trying to brace both himself and Tommy for his next question. “Okay, let me be more direct. Do you still live with your mom?”

That one shocks, a genuine, full belly laugh from him. The concern on Evan’s face is beginning to grow, and Tommy waves him off.

“No, it’s nothing like that. My place is just…a little unfinished at the moment, is all.”

Evan’s apartment was so put together it had honestly taken Tommy aback the first time he’d gotten a good look at it He didn’t know what he’d been expecting but it hadn’t been anything this nice, clean, or stylish, and the next opportunity he’d had to linger and poke around…with fewer distractions…he had quickly reevaluated the person he’d assumed Evan to be based on first impressions alone.

It had been his first in a long chain of lessons he’d learnt to never underestimate Evan Buckley. It had also made him feel slightly…lacking.

“Okay,” Evan says slowly, he’s using that tone of voice that usually means he already has a succession of twenty questions in the barrel and was just barely holding back from pulling the trigger. “Unfinished, how?”

Tommy scratches at the side of his nose before he can stop himself. A nervous tick. “Well, I bought it with the intention of renovating it myself--my first job was working for a contractor–but I, uh, kept getting a little side tracked.”

Evan shrugs. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“You haven’t seen it yet…” Tommy warns.

Evan’s smile slides sideways. “Yeah, and don’t you think it’s a little unfair that Eddie’s seen your place and your boyfriend hasn't?”

He feels silly, but Tommy can’t stop the way his stomach goes hot and squirmy every time Evan says it. Boyfriend–like it’s a pearl cupped lovingly on the bed of his tongue.

It’s Tommy’s turn to roll his eyes. He reaches out, covering Evan’s damp hand with his own and offering him a direct, hot-eyed look. “I’m not trying to impress Eddie.”

His words have their intended effect, Evan grins and ducks his head, cheeks going pleasantly red.

Evan laces their fingers together. “I don’t care how rough it is around the edges, I want to see every part of you,” he says, devastatingly sincere.

Every time Tommy thinks he’s gotten an upper hand on his feelings, Evan throws him for a loop. “Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

Evan’s grin spreads across his face like soft butter on toast. “You got it.”

#bucktommy #mine #anyway the pieces are still coming together but i've been thinking about this potential fic since i first read that post

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lostloveletters · 9 months

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One of Those Nights (Sonny Corleone x Reader)

Summary: You’re Sonny and Sandra’s go-to babysitter, and when Sandra’s out of town for the weekend, Sonny needs all the help he can get.

Note: College-aged female reader, but no other descriptors are used. I listened to Donna Summer while writing this lol. Anyway, my first Godfather reader-insert fic! Do not interact if you're under 18, a terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Implied age gap, power imbalance, cheating. Sexually explicit content involving unprotected sex and Sonny's canonically huge cock. A little bit of praise kink. Do not interact if you're under 18.

Your eyes fluttered open from your half-asleep stupor at the sound of the front door’s locks clicking. Sitting up on the couch, you quickly smoothed out your blouse and skirt. You just barely made it into the kitchen when Sonny got in.

“Sorry I’m back so late. I wanted to be home to put the kids to bed—“

You shook your head, smiling. “It’s fine, Mr. Corleone. Frank and the twins are already asleep. There’s some sausage with peppers and onions in the icebox if you haven’t eaten. I can heat it up quick on the stove for you.”

“Jesus, you’re already doin’ us a favor staying the weekend while Sandra’s outta town,” he said, shedding his tie and undoing the first few buttons of his shirt. “And how many times do I gotta tell you, you can call me Sonny.” He playfully pinched your cheek. “I’m not that old yet, am I?”

“No,” you giggled. “Sorry, Sonny.”

The kitchen's layout was almost second-nature to you at that point, having done plenty of cooking for Sonny and Sandra's sweet kids when you babysat them. You grabbed a frying pan, setting it on the stovetop and pouring in a few drops of olive oil before turning on the flame. By the time you got the plate you saved for Sonny out of the refrigerator, the oil was sizzling, and the scent of sweet peppers and onions filled the kitchen again when you’d scraped the contents of the plate into the pan.

Sonny was quiet behind you, save for him tapping his freshly lit cigarette against the porcelain ashtray on the kitchen table. You knew the sound well. His gaze burned through your back to your rapidly beating heart as you became increasingly aware that you were alone with him, the man who you lusted after in quiet guilt, because he was married and you were his children’s babysitter, for Christsake.

After a few minutes, the sausage with peppers and onions appeared thoroughly reheated, and you transferred the meal back onto the plate. You grabbed a nearby loaf of crusty bread, cutting a piece for him and placing it with the rest of the food.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Sonny said, grabbing the plate from the counter.

“Anytime.”

You returned to the living room, tuning the radio to the station that was broadcasting Lights Out, a late night horror show that always sucked you in no matter how hard you tried to remind yourself it was only a radio story. At least it’d get your mind off of Sonny, out of the gutter–or into a different one at least. You sat on the couch, fidgeting with your hands as you let yourself get lost in the host’s voice as he told the latest tale of terror.

You nearly screamed when Sonny appeared in the living room with his plate of food and asked, “You listen to this garbage?”

“It usually scares me into staying awake.”

He snickered to himself, taking the spot on the couch next to you. “For what?”

“My roommates and I play it in the dorm during finals to keep us up when coffee doesn’t cut it.”

“How’s college goin’ anyway? Straight As, right?”

“I made the dean’s list last semester.”

He shook his head. “Smart and beautiful, whatever lucky guy ends up with you is gonna have his hands full.” He glanced at your chest, his eyes lingering on your breasts for a moment before going back to his food. “Your cooking might be a little better than San’s. Don’t tell her I said that.”

You smiled, keening at his compliment. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“You didn’t have to stay up for me, you know.”

“I know, but I wanted to.”

“Why’s that?”

You faltered. “I just wanted to see you.”

He smiled, amused by your answer. “You’re sweet. Gonna give me a toothache if you keep that up.”

“Is that so bad?”

Sonny shook his head as he set his plate down on the coffee table. “‘Course not.” He got up to turn the radio off, the sound of his voice engulfing you in a warm haze, “Don’t get a chance to be alone with you enough.” He placed his hand on your knee when he sat back down, rubbing his thumb against your stocking-clad leg, the feeling frustratingly electric as the thin fabric was all that lay between the skin-on-skin contact you craved from him.

Your lips parted, trying to conjure up a response, but only managing a shaky breath and a weak nod of agreement.

“We don’t gotta do anything you don’t wanna do, doll,” he whispered, his voice low.

“I want you, Sonny,” you assured him.

He kissed you with a passion you swore only existed in movies, not the hesitant or sloppy handling you’d experienced from past boyfriends, but the certainty of a man who knew exactly what he wanted. Heat rushed over your skin at the confirmation that he wanted you, his hands on your body, sliding up your skirt as he grabbed your ass, pulling you closer to him so that you were practically straddling his lap. You steadied yourself on his biceps, giving them a squeeze, letting yourself feel him, acknowledge your desire for him that had been latent until then.

You moaned into his mouth, his tongue capturing the sound, claiming your expression of desire as his. And who else would it be for? You’d always found him handsome and charismatic, always were a bit too curious about what was behind each vaguely flirtatious comment or sly wink he’d send your way when no one else was looking.

“Sonny, where–where should we–”

“We can do it out here, but you gotta be quiet. You can do that for me, right?”

You nodded eagerly.

Hunger glistened in his dark eyes as he smiled wolfishly. “Attagirl.”

A whimper escaped your lips at his praise, the way he made you feel naked with just his gaze. You unbuttoned your blouse, letting it slip from your arms and tossing it aside onto the floor. Sonny pulled you onto his lap, burying his face in the crook of your neck while he kneaded your breasts through your bra. Soon, that wasn’t enough, and he pulled them from the cups, his hands on your soft skin as he squeezed. His thumbs brushed over your nipples. You gasped. You wanted his hands on you like that all the time, had imagined–secretly hoped, even–that he’d do it one day while you were in the kitchen or in the narrow hallway to the bedrooms, that he’d grope you, kiss you, do something to make you stop feeling so crazy about him. In that moment you realized getting what you wished for only made you want him more.

His lips burned deliciously against your skin, and you groaned at the gentle bites he left on your neck and shoulders. You rocked your hips against his, feeling his hard cock straining through his pants, desperate for more friction against your pussy.

“You feel that? You feel what you do to me?” he murmured against your tender skin.

“I need you,” you whined. “Please, Sonny.”

“Alright, doll. Lay back for me, alright?”

You did as he asked, shifting off of his lap to lie back on the couch. You watched intently, hungrily, as he unbuckled his belt, pulling his cock free from his pants, slowly pumping his length in his hand. You nearly choked. Sandra had made jokes about Sonny’s size before, ones that made your face heat up in embarrassment at her talking so crudely about him, but you’d always thought she was exaggerating.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, silently wondering if he could even fit inside you, an almost morbid curiosity only further fueling your desire.

A tender concern spread across his face as he searched yours for any sign of hesitation. “You sure you’re alright with this?”

You nodded. “I’ve wanted you in a bad way for so long.”

“How bad?” he asked, his voice husky and low.

Your lips nearly touched his as you whispered your answer. “Shameful.”

He kissed you again, this time with an intensity that nearly knocked the wind out of you. His fingers dug into the waistband of your panties and stockings, pulling them down so you could kick them off, ending up with one leg hanging off of the couch, exposing your wet pussy for him. You buried your fingers into his hair, the kiss desperate and wanton, your mouth open for him in a soft gasp as his pushed his tip inside you.

It wasn’t enough, the primal part of your brain screamed. You needed more. Digging your nails into his scalp, you lifted your hips, taking more of him in you.

“Don’t hold back, Sonny. I can take it,” you said.

He licked his lips, staring at you for a split second before determining you meant what you said. He filled you, your pussy clenching around his cock as he thrust into you, finding a rhythm that would’ve been painful if you weren’t already wet for him.

“Y’know, I used to get off thinkin’ about this,” he grunted, “bending you over the kitchen counter or up against the bathroom door.”

“Sonny–I–”

“You know how long I’ve wanted you? Now I’ve got my pretty college girl coming apart for me.”

“Oh my god–fuck–Sonny–” Your heart was pounding in your ears, eyes struggling to stay open as his thrusts became deeper, more erratic. He was close, his cock twitching inside you, hitting that spot you’d only ever reached with your fingers before. No faking it, no having to do the heavy lifting yourself.

He had to put his hand over your mouth when it hit you, white hot pleasure bursting in your brain, pulsing through your pussy as you grabbed at him, digging your fingers into his arms to ground yourself, feeling as though you’d lose control of your body otherwise. Your moans were muffled, incoherent nonsense as he fucked you through your climax to reach his. With another hard thrust, he came inside you. Overwhelmed by the sensation, your hips bucked and your pussy clenched hard around him, milking his cock as he came.

“Look at you, takin’ it all–fuck–” Sonny hissed out through gritted teeth, trying to maintain what little self-control he had as to not make too much noise. “So fuckin’ good for me–”

You whined at that, your overstimulated, fucked-out brain going into overdrive. You wanted to be good for him. You were good for him.

You weren’t sure when it got so still, so quiet, but the only sound in the room was your and Sonny’s heavy breathing. He pulled out of you, your pussy feeling achingly empty. You looked at the ceiling, mildly aware of Sonny staring at you.

“How're you feeling? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked.

“I’ll be lucky if I can walk tomorrow,” you said breathlessly. “But that was great. Really I–I don’t know what else to say.”

He caressed your cheek, bringing your attention back to him. “I’m gonna get you a towel, alright, sweetheart?”

You nodded, smiling a bit when he kissed your forehead before disappearing down the hall to the bathroom. And there were still two whole days left before Sandra got back. You smiled wider.

#sonny corleone x reader #sonny corleone #the godfather #the godfather x reader #the godfather imagine #the godfather fanfic #sonny corleone imagine #sonny corleone fanfic

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brokehorrorfan · 11 months

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Gutter Garbs has released a Tales from the Crypt design based on the first episode, "And All Through the House," by Sam Coyne. T-shirts ($30), zip-up hoodies ($50), and 12x18 prints ($36) are available to pre-order through Sunday, November 12, and will ship the week of December 10.

#tales from the crypt #and all through the house #the crypt keeper #the cryptkeeper #crypt keeper #cryptkeeper #gutter garbs #sam coyne #shirt #gift #robert zemeckis #larry drake #fred dekker #80s horror #1980s horror

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emisprocrastinatingbywriting · 6 months

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Alone and Forsaken

Chapter 4 Summary:

A few weeks have passed since the heated encounter with Joel and he has gone silent. Embarrassed, you have tried to apologize to him for days but he is constantly dodging you. Joel has found a never ending list of tasks, seemingly only able to stay in your presence momentarily before dashing off again. When an awkward dinner has him running into the woods, Joel stumbles across something he was not expecting to find.

Warnings: Angst/Comfort, Violence, SA attempts (Not by Joel, omg he would never), Hurt/Comfort, Sweet Ending, Mentions of a Panic Attack, Both you and Joel need a hug after this one :'(

A/N: Hello babes! Sorry for the wait, I spoke at my first academic conference this weekend so I've been having a week long panic attack hahaha. It went well though!We are back with Joel and you. Major warning for this chapter, with mentions of violence and an attempt of SA (not by our bb Joel, he would NEVER), but a resolution at the end so hold tight. If any of this bothers you, hold tight for the next chapter and we will drowning in the fluff. Take care of yourselves!

Chapter 4/20

Chapter 4: An Unexpected Arrival

The next three weeks with Joel passed by slowly. The man seemed to avoid you like the plague. By the time you woke up in the morning he was already out checking the traps, with only a wrapped plate of food with a note on the counter to serve as a clue that he had been there. He would come back in the early afternoon, increasingly red in the face as the temperature dropped, and give you a polite nod or a soft, “Howdy,” before going to work in the kitchen. Even when you tried to convince Joel to let you help him, he would just smile and brush you off. Despite your incessant offers, he shooed you out of the kitchen and into the living room while he worked on lunch.

Idleness was not something you were used to and it began to gnaw at your sanity. You tried to find comfort in reading the books that lined the walls, but it was not enough. The world you were used to was chalk full of tasks, living with someone who did everything for you was as unsettling as it was comfortable. You micro cleaned as much as you could but Joel Miller was frustratingly tidy.

Everyday, Joel would eat lunch with you at the table. He would listen and politely respond to whatever you said to him, usually grunting out a short response or humming as he continued to chew, but the man that you had told your tale of teenage delinquency to was long gone. After hastily scarfing down his lunch, he would murmur something about going back to work and then practically sprint out the door.

In the days after you threw yourself at him, Joel had embarked on a seemingly endless list of tasks. First, it was covering the windows with plexiglass to insulate the space. Next, it was clearing out the gutters that you noticed were mostly empty. After, it was splitting an unreasonable amount of wood. This particular task had you sat at the window to watch him work, Joel having gruffly sent you inside with a murmur of, “S’too cold darling, can’t have ya freezing on me.”

Watching Joel had something stirring deep in your core, sweat beginning to bead at your forehead as your heart fluttered behind your ribs. Joel truly was a piece of art, with his toned arms and soft yet strong abdomen. As sweat began to run down Joel’s face, he shed his bulky coat and you had the pleasure of watching his muscles ripple underneath the white t-shirt that stretched over his biceps. The curls that you dreamed of running your hands through were messy and Joel had to stop every few minutes to push them back off of his forehead as he caught his breath.

Exasperated with his locks, Joel paused momentarily and shoved them back once more before lifting the bottom of his shirt to wipe at his brow, revealing his scarred belly. A bolt of longing burst from your core and made you clench your thighs together as you imagined running your fingers across the puckered skin. Joel’s eyes rose to meet yours and your breath halted in your chest. A moment passed, and then two, while Joel studied your form in the window seat. The throbbing at the apex of your thighs doubled as his eyes went black while raking over your figure. You shifted your hips slightly, trying to be subtle as you eased some of the growing pressure on the edge of the seat. Even with your bottom half hidden from him, Joel’s eyes caught the slight rocking. He ran his tongue over the plushness of his bottom lip, before he cursed and shook his head, returning to splitting the logs.

In the days after your heated encounter you tried not to dissolve into a puddle of shame, kicking yourself every time you remembered how you had rubbed yourself against him. The moment you had stepped in the shower after leaving him aching on the bed, you were groaning into your hands. Remembering how Joel had practically begged you to get off of him, you had lost all of the lust instilled confidence that you had. You had tried to be coy and flirty like all of the omegas in the novellas that Jake had snuck to you once upon a time. It always worked in those books. The protagonist would push the buttons of their lover and they would be practically on their knees before them in an instant. It seemed to work on every alpha, but not Joel apparently.

Of course Joel didn’t actually want you, he was an alpha that had been caught up in the crazed omega that had ground down on his knot like a bitch in heat. He couldn’t help the physical response that you elicited from him, and now you had made him feel awkward in his own home. You felt awful. You wanted to apologize to him, to beg him to forget it so that the next few months weren’t completely unbearable, but Joel was making it impossible to do so with his continuous absence.

Frustrated, and bored of doing nothing but reading, you were becoming more and more irritable. If Joel had picked up on this, he did not say. He continued on his endless task list, stopping only to sleep, bathe, or coddle you with ridiculously large portions of food. Not that you were complaining about the food or the coddling, your figure had started to fill out again, your eyes had become less sunken in your face, and you had finally managed to tear through the last of the clumps that had bound your hair in a permanent rat’s nest. You liked being cared for, it was new and warm, but the solitude and inactivity was going to drive you up a wall.

The restraint you had after you had found the pictures was fraying at the ends. The door at the end of the hall mocked you with every passing moment. You were so curious that you almost asked him about it nearly every time he sat down to eat, but you bit your tongue remembering the outcome of the last time you had gone snooping. Still, with every passing moment your restraint wore down as the thought of him flying off the handle began to appeal to your companionless state. At least if Joel was yelling at you, he would finally pay attention to you. Maybe then you could finally apologize.

Instead, you spent your days reading, napping, pacing, trying to find anything to clean in a practically sterile cabin, and trying not to scream when you thought of the feeling of Joel’s warm body against your own. Each night you would toss and turn for hours, trying not to leave the bedroom and seek him out on the couch. Managing to restrain yourself, you would eventually fall asleep cocooned in his musk. You wondered constantly how Joel’s scent in the room was as strong as the day you arrived, considering he only entered it briefly before sleeping to collect his clothes for the next day.

One night, this led to you watching him eat with clenched fists as you ground your back molars against each other. Sweat dampened your back as your eyes roamed over the man across from you. Joel’s throat constricted with a swallow, making you practically keen at the thought of nipping at the thin skin below his jaw. His scent, once comforting, was now making you feel slightly feverish. You didn’t even hear him when he called you the first time.

“Hmmmm… what? What did you say Joel?,” you asked dreamily while watching his coffee colored eyes examine you.

“Are you feeling alright? You look a little… flustered darling,” Joel said, a slight tremor in his usually smooth voice.

Were you alright? Were you fucking alright? Was he serious? After three weeks of barely acknowledging you, he now sat there and asked you how you were?! Rage bubbled up to the surface and you tried to quell the storm brewing in your gut as you glared at him.

“Oh, I wasn’t aware that you gave a fuck,” you snapped, immediately regretting the childish words as Joel’s eyes widened.

Panicking, you mumbled an apology, something about being too tired as you tried to keep yourself together. The smell of sandalwood and bergamot was ripping tingles from your core and you became increasingly aware of the dampness of your panties, praying silently to yourself that there wouldn’t be a wet spot on the cushion when you stood. Joel didn’t say anything to you and sat there silently as you floundered, although you noticed his knuckles turn white as he clenched the utensils in his grasp. Finally finished with your nonsensical apology and incoherent excuse, you leaped out of the chair and sprinted down the hallway.

Pressing your back against the hard wood of the bedroom door, you slid down onto the floor and knocked your head back against it. You didn’t understand what was happening to you, being around Joel was unlocking a part of you that you didn’t even know existed. You wanted to tear the clothes off of his broad body, you wanted to hug him, you wanted to feel him inside of you, you wanted to know his favorite color, you wanted him to pull your hair as he slammed into you, you wanted to hear him play his guitar. It was like your body couldn’t decide whether it wanted Joel to tear you apart, or if it wanted you to build him up. Perhaps it wanted both. Either way, the constant battle between the two was maddening.

As you sat there, trying to regulate your breathing and shifting your hips aimlessly as you thought about Joel’s downturned lips, you heard the scuff of the kitchen chair followed by a shuffling of coats. The frame of the house shook as the front door slammed closed. Groaning, you banged your head softly against the wood again as you tried to erase the fantasies that were plaguing your desperate thoughts.

After a few moments of Joel being gone the tingles had dulled and you dizzily made your way over to the sink to splash some cold water on your face. As you looked up to see your wet face, you wondered how the handsome southerner would look with drops of water running down his body. You imagined beads of water dripping from his curls onto his strapping shoulders, rolling down the expanse of his tan midsection before reaching the patch of hair below his navel…

You groaned louder, abandoning the sink for the icy embrace of a cold shower.

- Joel -

The past three weeks with you had been hell. Joel had tried everything he could think of to stay away, even lying about cleaning the gutters just to get away from watching the softness of your thighs jiggle as you walked around in your sleep shorts. He ended up just standing on the ladder like a fucking idiot for an hour as he pretended to shuffle around the empty eavestrough. He didn’t know what to do, it was clear that he needed to stay away, as only a few moments with you had him ravenous. Joel was a gentleman, being raised in the south he had been taught how to be respectful towards omegas. However, your constant chattering over meals was threatening to break him.

Joel listened to your every word, soaking in every bit of information that you gave him as he tried to piece together moments from your past. He even had favorite characters at this point, Jake and Miriam stories being his favorite while stories about Josiah or your mother had him chewing on the inside of his cheek. Joel tried to piece together your life in his head but so far the events were too scattered and confusing to make any sense of what had happened. As you talked, he noticed that you spoke with your hands and placed your index finger on the tip of your nose when you were trying to remember something. Cute, he had thought to himself the first time he had noticed it before he snapped his gaze back to his plate. This didn’t stop the same thought from running through his mind every time he caught you doing it.

Joel tried to maintain a certain level of distance between the two of you, but he couldn’t stop himself from caring for you. He allowed himself the indulgence of providing for you, his heart swelling in chest as he watched you become healthier. You had been starved when you had arrived, but watching you fill out had him both happy and horribly frustrated. Nourishing you made him preen, but as your curves returned it was getting harder to keep himself from slinging you over his shoulder like a caveman and carrying you off to bed.

He had remained the picture of chivalry for weeks. Nonetheless, even a gentleman has his limits, and his came at dinner one night. Joel had noticed you being off for the last few days, snapping at him when he gave you a big spoon instead of a small one, scenting everywhere around the house, watching him chop wood like he was a piece of meat, and Joel had a sneaking suspicion that you were responsible for his missing clothes. He should have known, should have remembered with his many years of experience, but he didn’t.

You had been staring at him, looking at him with such intensity that he wondered if you were mad at him. Joel racked his brain for any slight he might’ve committed as he took in your features. The apples of your cheeks were red, a light sheen of sweat illuminated your face and neck, and your lips were raw from biting. Forgetting himself, Joel had called out to you and asked if you were okay. With no response, a twinge of anxiety pinched his heart. Oh fuck, were you sick?

“Are you feeling alright? You look a little… flustered darling,” Joel said, a slight tremor in his voice as every possible catastrophe ran through his mind.

“Oh, I wasn’t aware that you gave a fuck,” you snapped, the bitterness to your usually sweet tone slapping him in the face.

Surprised, Joel’s eyes widened for a moment before he studied you, watching as you stumbled through an apology. If Joel didn’t know any better, he would have asked you if you were on drugs, but he knew that he had left his stash in Boston. There weren’t any drugs in the cabin either, he had torn through it a couple times in his low moments to check. He watched as your words slurred together as you spoke, sweat covering every inch of you, but it wasn’t until Joel noticed the slight shift to your hips under the table that it dawned on him. You were going into heat.

Fuck. He hadn’t even thought about that. How could he not fucking think about that? The last omega he had been with was Sarah’s mom. Tess was a beta so heats were not really an issue with her. He hadn’t had a rut since Boston, he didn’t even think he could get hard until a few weeks ago when you stumbled into his life. Joel had chalked it up to age, he was 56 after all. Men went limp way earlier than that all the time. Unfortunately for him, the bastard was apparently just on vacation because now his cock twitched to life every time you so much as looked his way. Now, with the smell of the sweetness leaking out of you, Joel had to bear down on every muscle in his body to ensure that he didn’t vault over the table and clamp his teeth down on your neck.

Your apology was long, or at least he thought so as he bent the silverware in his hands. He watched as your frantic hands tried to keep up with your garbled speech. Each movement from you sent a ripple of air to his nostrils, and everytime he inhaled he could feel something dark and primal stirring below his belt. Finally, you had excused yourself and scampered off to the bedroom, leaving nothing behind but a wet seat. Joel stared at the spot, having to vehemently berate himself in order to stop the urge to walk over and bury his face in it. Shit, he needed some air.

Pushing his seat back from the table, Joel moved as quickly as he could. He shoved his arms through the first jacket he could find, even though he felt like he was burning up, before he ripped the door open and ran down the steps of the cabin. The cool air leached into Joel’s sweaty body as he stumbled through into the brush, fighting against his instincts as they screamed at him to turn around. He was frustrated, his cock half hard and pushing into his zipper as he moved clumsily into the night.

It wasn’t until he had been walking for about five minutes that Joel realized that he wasn’t wearing any shoes. His body was so overheated, he had barely felt the frozen earth against his socked feet. Joel swore, scrubbing his face with his hands before turning back towards the cabin. He didn’t want to go back, what he wanted to do was walk straight past the trees in front of him and into the rushing waters. He wanted to sink into the icy river and let it take him away, to be released from the constant torment that you were unknowingly inflicting upon him. But he couldn’t do that, you needed him.

“Fuck’s sake,” Joel groaned, begining his trek back home.

Only making it a couple of steps, Joel stumbled over something before catching himself on the gnarled tree stump to his left. He regained his balance before peering down at the ground in search of a culprit. Expecting to see a log or twisted tree root, Joel’s blood goes cold. What he was not expecting to find was an emptied soup can in his path. Joel gulped as he reached out his now shaking hands to examine it. It was fresh, with a few scoops of red broth coating the bottom and suddenly Joel’s chest was tight. His ears pricked up as he whipped his head around, trying to discern which route the intruder had taken.

In all his years stranded in the forest, he had never had anyone get within five miles of his cabin, and now in the span of less than a month he had two people come across him? Fuck, he needed to get back. Backtracking towards the cabin, Joel tried to compose himself as he began to jog. He needed to remain calm, he didn’t want to scare you.

Just as Joel picked up the pace, a shriek pierced through the still air and made him freeze before he found himself crashing through the trees.

- You -

The cold water pelted down on your figure as you shook violently. You couldn’t think of Joel if you were focusing on trying to breathe, right? After a few minutes of tormenting yourself under the frosty spray, you finally stepped from the shower, feeling only slightly less flustered. Just then, you heard the front door click and two heavy boots make their way across the threshold. You sighed, Joel was back, which meant you would have to face him after embarrassing yourself again. Fuck.

“Better to get it over with,” you whispered to yourself, toweling off before slipping into some loose shorts and one of Joel’s shirts that you had added to your growing collection.

Bracing yourself, you stepped into the hallway and padded softly into the hall. Joel didn’t answer as you called him and you cringed. Was he THAT pissed at your stupid little outburst? You sighed, steeling yourself and moving into the living room, only to be met with an acrid smell that stung your throat. Eyes watering, you moved into the room and tried to pinpoint the smell before a set of hands grabbed your hips from behind.

You shrieked.

- Joel -

Joel felt like the sky was falling as he ran through the thicket. He tried to focus as his legs moved as quickly as they could, but memories flashed through his mind anyways. Sarah. Tess. Ellie. Now you? No, he couldn’t think of that right now. He needed to get to you.

Finally reaching his home, Joel bound up the stairs that he had built, taking them two at a time, and tore into the living room. His eyes darted across the room, taking in the broken vase before landing on the clump of hair that had clearly been ripped out of someone’s scalp. Joel refocused as he heard you cry out, feet crunching under the broken glass as he barreled into the bedroom.

The scene before Joel made his blood boil. A greasy looking alpha was trying to claw the shorts off of your legs. A bloody patch gleamed at him from a filthy scalp, blood beading from where you had torn out a clump of straggly hair. You were beating at his chest, crying and objecting as you tried to buck him off of you. Your legs kept kicking at him as he tried to undress you, which clearly angered the man. The alpha raised his hand to slap you into submission.

Joel snapped.

He ripped the man off of you and slammed him to the floor, looming over him momentarily as the blood rushed in his ears. The man tried to lunge at him, growling and spitting, but Joel caught him by the neck and slammed him back onto the hardwood. The filthy man wheezed and scraped at the vice around his neck as Joel choked him, his eyes bulging from the lack of oxygen.

“Go into the other room,” Joel said.

When you made no move, he turned his head slightly and looked into your teary eyes.

“Go. Now.”

This wasn’t a suggestion, it was a command, and you obeyed before your mind could get in the way. Joel turned back to the man as you scurried out of the room, the door swaying shut behind you. He eased his grip and watched as the now purple faced man sucked air into his foul smelling mouth. He wanted to punch the yellow teeth out his reddened gums, to make him choke on them, but he needed answers first.

“You’re gonna tell me where you came from, how many people you’re with, and what the fuck you’re doing here,” Joel said.

“Fuck y- AGH!,” the man groaned as Joel slammed his fist into his nose.

Blood trickled down the man’s sallow face, staining the planks of wood below his head. Joel tsked as the man’s eyelids fluttered, slapping his jaw to keep the bastard focused.

“I’m gonna ask you again, real nice. Choose your next words carefully, or things are about to get a lot worse for ya.”

Panting and eyes watering as blood ran into his mouth, the man focused on Joel before he spat out, “Just because her daddy is gone, doesn’t mean she gets off free. We’ve been after her for the past year, nearly gave up too, but I caught her trail. Reckon Paul or Cooper will too soon enough, and she’ll be back where she belongs. She might’ve made it out of the pit, but that don’t mean the debt is paid. Might take a few months like it did me, but they’ll find her.”

Grabbing his face, Joel peered into the man’s eyes, searching for any hint of deceit before he slammed his skull into the boards again. The man groaned and cussed, the back of his head now dented and bleeding.

“Who the fuck are Paul and Cooper? What debt?,” Joel seethed.

The man choked on his own blood as he cackled, coughing and sputtering below Joel.

“You have no idea the shit you have just stepped in man. She doesn’t belong to you, Josiah had already chosen for her. Her little vacation to the pit was a punishment, not a get out jail free card. Paul will still be after what’s his.”

Suddenly exasperated, Joel wrapped his hands around his neck. The man’s eyes widened once more, the light slowly receding from them after Joel felt the snap of his neck beneath his fingers. He stood over the corpse, feeling nothing but rage. Blood pounding in his ears, he wanted to tear into someone, wanted to burn whoever thought to harm you into the ground, he wanted to rip their throat out with his own teeth, he wanted -

Hearing a sniffle from behind him, Joel spun on his heels and found a shaking figure.

“Babygirl,” Joel sighed, his legs carrying him to you in an instant.

Despite his attempts for the past few weeks to distance himself from you, Joel didn’t even think twice before he picked you up. Wrapping your legs around his waist and practically strangling him, you clung to him like a koala bear as the two of you left the corpse behind. Tears soaked his collar and he tried not to gag at the acrid smell of another alpha covering you. Your nose was pressed into his neck, huffing at his skin as he moved into the living room.

“S’okay darling, I’m here. It’s over, I gotcha. He ain’t gonna do nothing to ya, nobody is. I swear,” Joel whispered in your ear, his words easing the tremors that racked your frame.

A sob tore out of your chest and it made Joel wish he had the power of resurrection, just so he could kill that man all over again. He refocused, knowing that he couldn’t let himself get angry with you in this state. Continuing to whisper sweet words into your ear, Joel grasped the back on your neck, pulling you back slightly as you blubbered from the loss. He hushed you, weighing his options for a moment before shoving his own face into your neck. Working gently, Joel rubbed his face into your neck and covered the sour stench with his own as he kissed and nipped at the delicate skin. You cried out, and he almost stopped before the tension slowly left your shoulders.

The real cries came, and your fingers locked into his hair and pushed Joel’s face into your neck harder as he scented you. He hummed as you sobbed nonsensical things, continuing to rub your back and hold the back of your neck.

“I-I-I didn’t, he was gonna, and I didn’t want t-t-o,” you wailed and his heart practically shattered.

Joel whined at the admission and he pulled back once more, taking the hand off of your neck and using it to wipe the tears and snot from your face.

“I know sweetheart, I know. But he didn’t, okay? He didn’t, and he’s never gonna. I gotchu, okay? You’re gonna be okay,” he murmured quietly, almost like he was promising himself.

“D-did you k-kill him?,” you stammered.

An uneasiness settled over him as he replied, “Well now, I don’t want you to be thinking ‘bout all that. I did what I had t-”

“I’m not mad Joel, I’m grateful. He could’ve… Well, I guess it's like you said, he didn’t, but he could’ve and I don’t know what…,” you sniffed, the sobs easing up but tears still dripping down your face as you whispered, “Thank you Joel.”

Joel shook his head sharply, “Ain’t nothing to thank me for. I’d never let someone hurt you like that, I’d never let anyone hurt you at all. You’re mine. Hell, I’d kill him again if I could. He had no right to even think -”

He had to stop before his blood began to boil once more, an urge to bare his teeth and growl sliding up from the more primal part of him as Joel briefly considered what would have happened if he hadn't made it. He looked away for a moment, trying to compose himself as he stared at the wall. No, he thought to himself, not now. She needs you.

Soft hands came up and grabbed his cheeks, squishing them as his head was turned forward once more. The last tears rolled down your face, slight tremors jostling you. The panic in your eyes was slowly fading as both of you breathed in each other's presence. You were okay, you were both okay, Joel tried to tell his racing mind.

“Breathe Joel,” you instructed, your soft gaze hypnotizing him as you held him in your grasp.

At that moment Joel realized that the tremors that jostled your frame were coming from him. His body was buzzing, the feeling of a looming threat still slamming his heart against the walls of his chest. It felt like he was having a heart attack, which made him panic more because he needed to protect you. He tried to breathe but he didn’t know how to make his lungs work properly, dizziness began clouding his panic attack.

“Breathe,” you said more forcefully, commanding him to take easy breaths as you rubbed one of your hands over his chest.

Joel closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on matching his breaths to yours as he tried not to wheeze. The hand on his chest eased some of the tightness that wrapped around him and constricted his heart. The other hand was dug into his graying curls, scratching at his scalp and pushing his face back into your neck. A rumbling noise came up from his chest as the last vestiges of danger ebbed away in his mind, still lurking in the shadows but no longer beating at the inside of his being. Sweet nothings whispered in his ear, Joel groaned softly and rubbed his nose against your gland. Mindlessly sucking on the mouth watering skin, Joel tried to remember the last time anyone had cared for him like this.

He wondered if it was Tess for a moment, before having to stop himself from laughing. Joel had loved Tess as his best friend, but she was anything but sweet. They had indulged each other mainly out of convenience. Once they were done fucking or trying to beat off the loneliness by simply sharing a bed, it was back to business. Joel didn’t feel the same way the one time the subject of more was broached and besides, Tess loved pussy too much to be stuck with someone with a dick.

“Better?,” you asked him softly and he hummed in reply, snuffling at your neck for a moment before pulling back.

Joel grabbed your face, pulling your foreheads together and closing his eyes again. He could feel your breath tickling his mustache as he kept his head against yours, reminding him that you were alive. Moving back, Joel kissed you gently on the tip of your nose and wiped your face off again. Satisfied, he moved to lift you off of him. You cried out, scrambling to wrap yourself around him as he sunk back down on the couch.

“I… Baby, I can’t just leave him in there. Let me go in and I’ll clean it up for y-,” a whine cut Joel off and he sat back, unsure of what to do and unwilling to make you cry again.

“Please alpha,” you whined, “Please stay with me.”

With the urgency of the request Joel didn’t even have to think, allowing himself to gather you in his arms once more before he said, “Course baby, I’m right here. Never gonna leave you. How could I? S’alright, just rest.”

As he sat on the couch with you straddling him, your nose pressed into his collar and arms wrapped around his neck, Joel tried not to think of the bloody corpse in the next room. He tried to push the questions he had for you out of his brain as your body got heavier and heavier with each passing moment. He tried not to think about the fact that your body was feverish, scent heightened as a heat slowly made its way out of your core and beckoned him with more intensity with each passing moment.

Instead Joel let his face push into your hair. He soaked his senses in your aroma, letting it coat the back of his throat as he nuzzled you again. Joel closed his eyes once more, allowing his heart rate to slow with your body safe in his embrace, and let his exhaustion take over.

#alpha!joel miller #angst #comfort #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #omega reader #a/b/o dynamics #eventual smut #the last of us #violence mention #tlou fanfic #joel tlou

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writing-my-time · 4 months

Text

Daddy Ain't Home

Images taken from @boydholbrook-fan's gifsets, and pinterest x

Pairing: Clement Mansell X F!Reader Word Count: 3.6k Warnings: 18+, Smut with plot, age gap (Reader is around 19 to early 20’s, Clement in his late 30’s/early 40’s), swearing, morally dubious actions, coercion, unhealthy power dynamics, oral (m/receiving). Reader has grabbable hair, but otherwise nondescript. Summary: When your dad’s so-called ‘friend’ needs to stay at your family home for a few days, using the excuse of “in-between” places, you find his incredibly forward nature hard to resist. Your temptation only worsens when your dad goes to work Author's note: My beautiful babies have been SO sick. Needed to be a full time Mama for a bit but now I’m back in action!

The older you got, the less sure you became of your father’s previous lifestyle. You’d grown up relatively normal, but the occasional tale he’d tell after a few beers often left your imagination running wild. He’d speak of something far darker than youthful tomfoolery; recounting memories of guns, cash, and deals gone wrong. At some point in his life, your dad had turned himself around, leaving whatever rough and tough lifestyle he’d had behind. Today, he’s a blue collar man with a family, in other words, completely unspectacular. Sure, he’d become a friendly face in the neighborhood, shoveling snow and fixing gutters, but other than that, the peers of your parents wouldn’t exactly blink twice at the man. Which is why when his ‘old friend’ stops by uninvited, it opens a can of worms you never thought imaginable.

It’s past midday, you know that much. You’ve only been back a week, in your family home in a remote town just outside of Detroit, having come back to enjoy the semester break without the bleak surroundings of your college campus. A small group of your friends never left; staying home to take over their parents’ business or wait tables. Still, having some friends in your hometown pays off. That is, until you’re nursing a headache courtesy of your latest reunion. In a place as small as this, everyone knows everyone; meaning that even in your less than perfect state, you can tell the blond man in front of you is an outsider. He’s standing opposite your dad in the middle of the kitchen, unintentionally blocking your access to any form of sustenance as you approach from behind. Bleary-eyed and weak-willed, you fail to recognize the brewing tension in the room, stepping around the stranger with a grumble.

“Well, shoot.” The blond nods in your direction, cocking his brow as you manage to stumble past. “The apple sure doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it?”

There’s an audible huff from your dad, and you reach the fridge as he grabs the stranger's arm and hauls him into the living room, slamming the door behind them. If you were sober, you’d be outwardly surprised by your dad’s aggression. Right now your sole focus is to hydrate using whatever bottle your hand grabs first. Judging by feel, you’ve picked up some type of juice; gulping it down greedily right from the lip of the bottle. As the sweetness trickles down your throat, you feel a morsel of the raggedness from your night before wear away. Leaning against the kitchen counter, you drag a hand down your face, taking note of the mascara very much still crusted against your lashes. Apparently you had come home coherent enough to get into bed, but not enough to get your makeup off. Just as you’re about to make your return to your room, the sound of your father’s hushed muttering permeates the closed door.

“Absolutely not.” He grumbles, saying something else but you can’t quite make out the words. “Clement, I won’t-”

“-Don’t forget now,” You can hear the other man loud and clear. “You do owe me a favor.”

A prolonged silence follows. One which is only filled by the sound of your own heartbeat thudding in your ears. This time, you fight the haze just enough to get a better read on the conversation going on in the next room. Hearing the clearly strained resignation of your father come through the door, you decide to hover in the kitchen a little longer. Whoever this Clement character is, he’s got intimidation down to an art.

“You can be here for one week.” You’ve never heard your dad sound so defeated. “That’s all. One week.”

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” The southern drawl of the man rumbles through the door. “You always had to be so serious about things.”

“Just don’t bring my family into it, yeah?”

“Now, now. Terrorizing families was more your style.” Clement clicks his tongue. “I will be on my best behavior, of that you can rely.”

Your brows furrow upon hearing what appears to be the end of the exchange. They’ve come to an agreement; one you don’t truly understand considering the ominous accusation thrown your father’s way. Your dad, a terror? The man who mows old ladies’ lawns on the weekends for nothing more than a cup of tea and a sandwich? That’s enough eavesdropping for one day, you decide, shaking your head. You begin your retreat, eventually climbing up the stairs toward your room.

Neither of your parents had changed anything about your room since you had left. You still had the same gaudy palm tree wallpaper your mom had picked out, only saved by the amount of band and movie posters you’d covered it up with. All the furniture was the same as it was, too. A mix of things your dad had either built or bartered for over the years, leading to an eclectic mess of clashing styles; something you’d come to miss when your dorm room was nothing more than a bed and a desk. Your shins meet the foot of the bed, and you flop down face first onto your pillows. Still in the throes of a hangover, now layered with the strange pit of uncertainty embedding itself into your stomach, you tuck the blanket up above your head and fall asleep.

—

It’s early in the morning when your dad knocks gently at your door. Of course, you’d slept the entire day away; a habit you aren’t exactly happy you’d picked up while at college. You slowly peel yourself out of the blankets, sitting up as your dad steps softly into your room. Dressed in his usual work clothes of his boilersuit over a white t-shirt, you gauge that it must be almost time for him to leave. He’s holding your favorite mug in his hands, bringing in a coffee just for you. The thought is lovely, even if you both know you’ll forget about it until it’s already gone cold. Your dad sets it on your nightstand before kneeling down beside your bed. There’s a reserved look in his eye, one you aren’t sure you’ve seen before.

“Morning, princess.” He speaks softly. “Thought I’d say hi. Since I didn’t see much of ya yesterday.”

“Sorry, dad.” You mumble, looking away in shame. It wasn’t like you to drink so hard that you wasted an entire day. “I think I went too hard.”

“Don’t be sorry. You’re young. It’s good that you’re having fun and still coming home safe.”

There’s another flicker of something in his eyes when he speaks. Despite his kind reassurance, you can tell his mind is elsewhere, perhaps reminiscing on something. His nose scrunches for a brief moment, and you shift slightly under your sheets. You watch as he presses his lips together, evidently trying to find a way to word his thoughts.

“I need to let you know, we have an old friend staying with us for a week.” He explains with a smile. A smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “His name is Clement. I knew- I’ve known him since before you were born.”

“How do you know him?” You ask him quickly, watching him shift his weight on either knee as the question rings through his mind.

“You know, that’s a good story.” Your dad pulls back just as quick, sucking in air between his teeth as that forced smile reappears on his face. “Maybe just not when I'm leaving for work, yeah?”

In response, you nod, earning a kiss to your forehead from your dad. Since coming back home, he’d gone right back to treating you like his little girl, and the affection had been greatly missed. He pulls himself back up to a stand, brushing his knees before he looks at you one last time.

“He’ll be hanging around the house, but don’t feel like you have to keep him company, okay?” He raises his eyebrows at you, waiting for your response.

“Is that code for ‘don’t talk to him’?” You ask, receiving a pause in return.

“You can talk to him, just… don’t go outta your way to make him feel welcome.” He explains with a sigh. “I love you, honey.”

“Love you too, dad.”

His exit leaves you in a befuddled silence, pressing your lips together in thought. You stay in place as your father’s footsteps begin to trail off, eventually dulling once he reaches the bottom of the staircase. Minutes later, the house rattles ever so slightly at the opening and closing of the front door. Your father has left for the day, leaving you alone in the house with mystery man Clement. What you remember of yesterday’s overheard conversation lingers in your mind. How do they know each other? Why didn’t your dad want him to stay? And why does he owe him? In a rapidly-failing attempt to take your mind off of it, you pull the covers back over your face. Thoughts swirl around your mind while no answers come to call. Clement had claimed your dad had a terrorizing schtick. It just didn’t match up.

Not wanting to give in to the oncoming spiral, you bring yourself to a stand. A shower will help. Or at least, that’s what you’re telling yourself as you close your bedroom door behind you with a sturdy thud. Lazily, you trudge down the hallway until you find yourself standing on the cold bathroom lino. After a few minutes of mincing around, you slip under the gentle caress of the showerhead. Streaming down your face, neck, and shoulders, the warm water does wonders in quelling your nervous mind. Even after you'd moved out, your parents still kept the bathroom stocked with boujee products far out of your price range. It’s a dramatic change from the discount bath and body works garbage you’ve got littering your dorm shower, and you smile to yourself as you lather the coconutty soap over your body. For the first time in what feels like months, you have a long, warm, relaxing shower.

Eventually, you force yourself out of the cocoon of warmth you’ve created in the bathroom, stepping out with a fluffy towel wrapped around your chest. The house is silent, eerily so. You wonder if it means that Clement had also gone out, leaving you alone for the time being. With light-footed steps, you pad along the hall back to your bedroom. Thoughts of having the house to yourself cause a dopey smile to paint your face, and you eagerly wrap your fingers around your doorknob. With the door ajar, a gentle push is all it takes to enter your room. You stride in, humming a tune under your breath as you seal yourself back in your bedroom once more. You’re about to peel the towel away from your dampened skin when a low whistle beckons from your bed.

“Ain’t that a pretty sight.”

You flinch and desperately twist your hands into the fabric of the towel, keeping it as close to your body as humanly possible. With wide eyes, you turn towards the graveled voice. There lies Clement, completely reclined on your bed, wearing nothing but what appears to be your father’s navy robe. He’s got one of your books in his hands, open on the page you had bookmarked and forgotten about a few nights ago, now. The older man isn’t shy in his staring, dragging his tongue along his teeth as he raises a cocky brow. He rests the book in his lap, allowing him to rest his now free hands on the back of his head, unabashedly ogling your towel-cladded form. There’s nowhere for you to hide yourself while the intruding man remains confidently splayed on your bed.

“What’re you doing in my room?” You ask, swallowing down the nervous lump in your throat.

“Shoot.” He raises his hands defensively, though his eyes still sparkle with a dark sense of mischief. “Your daddy said to make myself at home, and I wanted a good book to read. Nothin’ downstairs caught my attention - but this?”

Clement holds up the open book, waving it around long enough for you to remember exactly where you had left off. Fuck. The arrogant smirk sprawled on his face isn’t just to revel in your scantily clad form, but also your perverse taste in literature. Very perverse taste. He clicks his tongue, pretending to make a stern face as he drags his slender finger along the page.

“This is definitely something worth a read.” The blond furrows his brow, reading the very extensive smut you had bookmarked for when you were alone. “You, you pretty young thing, are into some extreme shit.”

“Can you get out of my room, please?” You attempt to speak with confidence, though there’s something about him making you shiver.

“Why? Voyeurism not your thing?”

“Not really, no.”

“No?” He begins to climb off the bed, his tall frame already towing over yours as he begins to stalk towards you. “It didn’t seem so bad in your book.”

You shy your gaze away from Clement as he comes toe-to-toe with you. While none of his fingers touch your soft skin, there’s a clear intention swirling in the air. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as he chuckles to himself. It’s a dark, throaty chuckle. Creases form around his eyes as he laughs. Is it at your expense? You can’t tell. You barely hold your ground as he continues to talk.

“Girl in your book liked older men. Wasn’t interested in boys. What about you, little lady? You like real men?” He runs his finger across the seam of your towel. “I think you just might.”

He’s not wrong, and unfortunately, your outward lack of fear towards his grotesque intimidation is only proving his point. There’s some part of you that’s enjoying this, perhaps it’s because fortunately, he’s not exactly unattractive. As he stands before you, his newly acquired dressing gown begins to slip open, and you find yourself admiring the tattoo decorating his chest. You know you've gotten lost in your own ogling when his finger begins to slip through the seam.

“My dad would kill you.” You try to slap his hand away, but he grabs your wrist just in time.

“I don’t know if you noticed, but your daddy ain’t home, sweetheart. He left you all alone.” His voice lowers into something akin to a growl, while his breath hits hot against your face. “With me.”

Clement’s hand travels away from your wrist to the back of your head, making a tight fist within your damp hair as he sneers. It sends an involuntary shiver down your spine, going as far as to make you gasp through clenched teeth. You close your eyes, not wanting his piercing gaze to make you squirm more than it already has. He lets out another breathy snigger, baring his teeth as he cranes your head back with ease. A weak exhale escapes your trembling lips.

“Knew you were into dark shit.” He hums in your ear. “This ain’t even that bad, little lady.”

Before you can respond, the man pulls harshly on your hair, sending you crashing to your knees in front of him. For a brief moment, he keeps you there, doing nothing but glaring down at you while his lips continue to curl into a perverse smile. Your eyes flit to his other hand, watching it glide down until it slips underneath the seam of his dressing gown. Slowly, tauntingly, menacingly, Clement pulls the gown open. It’s just enough for you to get an eyeful of his white briefs, and the significant bulge growing beneath them. His eyes stay focused on your face, watching with twisted delight as you wet your lips.

“See? I had a whole plan to convince you, and you don’t even need it, do ya?” Clement taunts with a low voice. “If only your daddy knew how easy it is to get you on your knees.”

He loosens his grip on your hair, knowing you won’t do anything other than sit pretty on the floor. Clement’s other hand now slips into the waistband of his briefs. Of course, he doesn’t bother to take them off, instead opting to tug the fabric underneath his balls and taking his twitching cock into his fist. Though his underwear left little to the imagination, he’s girthier than you anticipated. Your eyes are glued to it, observing the way his hand trails up his veiny shaft, then back down until it meets the unruly hair decorating his pelvis. A bead of sticky pre-cum glistens at his tip, and you stay transfixed on the image as he drags his palm up his shaft one last time. Clement clearly notices your ogling, letting out a breathy chuckle before he begins to push your head towards it.

“Go on, baby.” He urges, watching with bated breath as your lips begin to part open. “Put your mouth on it, yeah, there you go.”

You glide your tongue up the bottom of his shaft, dragging from base upwards until you wrap your lips around his tip. His sharp intake of breath is enough to encourage you further, eventually sliding your mouth down until you’ve taken him whole. As his hand steadies your movements, a low, satisfied hum leaves his lips, and you look up just in time to watch him throw his head back.

“Fuck, I knew just from lookin’ at your pretty face that you’d have a mouth on ya.” He grits out as you begin to hollow your cheeks, sucking him slowly yet eagerly. “Shit. Didn’t think you’d be this obedient. Like a fuckin’ dog, you are.”

Doing as you're told, you don’t change up your movements right away. Instead keeping a slow, languid pace. Each bob of your head creates a rich mixture of your own drool and his slick, letting his taste be savored on your tongue. He tastes of salt and sweat and musk. When you’re about to bob back down, Clement guides you by pushing on the back of your head, and forcing you to take him right into the back of your throat. Your nose is almost embedded into his pubes, causing you to splutter around him from the lack of oxygen. Even so, he doesn’t let up. Clement clicks his tongue, giving you a surprisingly affectionate look.

“Now that’s a sight I could get used to, little lady. Look at you, chokin’ on me.” He holds you there for just a second longer, before letting you lift your mouth off of him completely. A string of drool connects your bottom lip to the tip of his cock, and before Clement can speak, you’re already diving back in.

This time, you don’t suck him with lazy strokes, no. As your lips wrap around his head for the second time, you hollow out your cheeks and wrap your hand around the base of his cock. Your mouth pumps in time with your hand, all the while Clement doesn’t shut up, grunting out praises, as he rolls his hips in time with your movements. He fists your hair again, keeping your head still for his oncoming onslaught of hard thrusts. Drool coats both his shaft and your lips, bubbling and spilling out of the corners of your mouth as he fucks it with enough force to make you gag. Tears prickle the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over as you keep choking on his length. He doesn’t stop, instead grinning as you continue to struggle around him.

“Keep your lips on me,” Clement rasps out, almost lost in the moment. “That’s it. That’s it, thaaat’s it.”

“Knew from the moment I saw you that I needed this.”

He squints his eyes shut.

“Knew that you’d give it to me.”

He throws his head back.

“Knew your daddy would make a good girl.”

He fucks himself down your throat.

“Good. Girl.”

Clement pushes your head back down to the base of his cock, holding you tightly in place with your hair as his hips begin to buck without rhythm. Your only other warning to what might be coming is the chesty moan that leaves his lips. You flinch as the hot, thick ropes of his release spill down your throat, coating your tongue with a salty, bitter taste. There’s no other option but to swallow it all, having his hand forcing you into position. Once the last drop is gone, Clement pulls you off him, eventually letting go of your hair entirely. As if nothing had happened, he tucks himself back into his briefs, and re-wraps the gown, covering his body once more. You look up, slightly dazed as air finally makes its way back into your lungs. With your lips pink, wet, and parted, you must be a sight to behold - earning a cocky chuckle from Clement.

“Thanks, little lady. Just what I needed to feel welcome.” He grins, swiping some of the drool off your bottom lip before heading towards the door.

“That’s it?” You can’t help but feel short-changed, watching as the man exits into the hallway.

“For now,” He states, dragging his fingers through the coarse hairs of his beard. “I’ve been really wantin’ a shower, and now it’s all freed up.”

He looks you up and down one last time, scrunching his nose as he sniffs with what almost seems like indifference. Then, before you know it, he’s closing your bedroom door, leaving you alone on the floor as you come to terms with what’s just happened. You drag the pads of your fingers over your lips, closing your eyes as you grunt in frustration. He’s still here for an entire week, and you caved already. What would your dad think?

---

A very big thank you for reading. As always a big thank you for those that encourage me - @justeverythingprettymuch, and those that inspire me - @toxicanonymity!

#boyd holbrook #clement mansell #justified city primeval #clement mansell x reader #goose writing #boyd holbrook smut #clement mansell smut

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quills-of-freedom · 1 year

Text

Headcanons ~

Wedding day 💕🎻

| Eren - Reiner - Levi - Jean - Erwin - Armin - Connie |

The day had finally arrived. The union of two souls to be forever entwined within the gracious loving bond of matrimony.

Eren 💕

You couldn’t actually believe Eren had proposed. Although he was down on one knee in front of your very eyes, your mind just wasn’t accepting it. Folks andd onlookers watched with bated breath, awaiting your answer. He sure kept this surprise hidden well…

Of course, you said yes and he picked you up by your waist in a spin, colliding his lips to yours.

And now here he was, watching you walk down the aisle, a lump in his throat and his heart racing.

You looked gorgeous, like something from a fairy tale.

And of course, he looked as handsome as ever. His suit was smart and his hair was up in its usual bun.

Armin is his best man, of course; who is standing and beaming with pride.

Eren holds back his chokes and tears as he reads his vows;

“Y/N… From the first time I ever laid eyes on you, all those years ago, I knew you would be in my life forever. Back then, I didn’t think it would be as my wife, but God I am so glad it is. I’m sorry for my stubbornness and irrational behaviour when we were young. But despite that you still loved, and stood by me and for that I’ll be eternally grateful. I vow to always stand beside you, whatever the world throws at us. I vow to hold you when you need support. I vow to remember how you always had my back no matter what. And I vow to always love you, with my heart and soul, until the day I die and after.”

The room erupts in cheers and tears when you seal your kiss.

The reception is wild.

Everyone is drunk (except Levi) and dancing. Reiner and Connie are dancing like weirdos, Reiners blazer removed and at one point Connie is on his shoulders.

Sasha has too much to drink and is spewing in the bathroom.

Mikasa can’t stop crying with happiness and pride.

He carries you to your room afterwards where you spend all night sealing a special bond that will never be broken.

Reiner 💕

Reiner wanted to marry you from the get go. He’s a passionate man and when he loves, he loves.

So when he pops the question, boy does he go extra.

Reiner took you to a secluded spot for a picnic on a cliffside. After you’d had eaten and chilled for a while he tells you to stand back. This crazy mf then pulls out a dagger and leaps off the cliff, transforming into his Titan form.

You feel a little scared. Not because you think he’d hurt you but A) wtf is he doing and B) It feels weird seeing a shifter transform when you don’t have your gear.

He steps up onto the cliff and gets on one knee in his Titan form. He gets out with his ring in hand and kneels in front of the empty casing of the armoured titan.

“All this power, yet you can still bring me to my knees. Y/N, I love you. Will you marry me?”

Cheesy, but that’s Reiner for you.

He kisses you desperately and tears form in his eyes when you accept.

Now he has tears streaming down his face, holding in sobs as he sees you walking towards him in your dress. The odd uncontrolled cry does escape his lips when you get closer. He palms the tears away and smiles with the biggest grin when you reach him.

He pulls it together a little for his vows but he does take sharp intakes of breath.

“I never believed in love at first sight, until I met you. No matter what doubts I had back in Cadets, they were always surpassed by my feelings for you. And when you told me you loved me too, it was incomprehensible that I would turn you away, given the circumstances. Y/N… You still loved me when I left. You loved me at my worst. You picked me up from the gutter, dusted me off and rose me up again. I vow to always love you with my entire being. I vow to protect you against any ill will towards you. Back then, I couldn’t dedicate my heart to the cause. But I vow to dedicate my heart to you.”

If Bertolt isn't alive in your universe, Jean is his best man and either way, they’re both pulling a tight face to stop themselves crying.

He carries you out of the venue after you kiss, confetti and cheers all around.

The reception is just like Eren's. Absolutely wild. Dancing. Drinking. Laughter and tears.

That night you seal your soul bound contract with hours and hours of mind-blowing love making.

Levi 💕

Levi had been thinking of proposing for a long time. In fact you thought the day would never come. He likes to be totally sure and take things slow. So when he got on one knee at a fancy restaurant you were blown away.

The only time he’s ever shown PDA was when you said yes and he kissed you with such passion, the other diners applauding in celebration.

He doesn’t cry when he sees you in your dress, Erwin stood by him as his best man. But his eyes do glisten and a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“Y/N… I know I’m not the best at verbalising my feelings but please know if anything that I am completely devoting myself to you. I will always love you. I will always take care of you and protect you. I will always support your desires in life and walk this earth with you. This, I swear.”

Hange is sobbing so loud when you kiss.

The reception for you wedding with Levi is a little more classy. There’s fine foods and ballroom dancing. Speeches are refined and dignified and throughout the entire thing Levi can not keep his eyes off you.

You guys break the bed when you make love that night.

Jean 💕

Jean was a nervous wreck when he proposed to you. The entire time he was fumbling with the ring box in his pocket, his hands dampening with sweat.

You knew something was amiss but when you asked he shrugged it off. You were both on a walk when he suddenly took your hand and got down on one knee.

He choked back tears when you said yes.

He’s crying at the alter though regardless of how hard he tries not to. He’s so damn proud of you it’s overwhelming as you gorgeously glide down towards him, Connie his best man if Marco isn’t alive in your universe.

He’s a blubbering mess when it comes to the vows finding it hard to vocalise himself properly.

“Y/N, you make me the happiest man there ever was. I am so proud to have you by my side and to now call you my wife. You’re my everything and more. You love me when I’m not being the smartest man, or the most patient. And for that I give you my all. I vow to treat you the way you deserve. I vow to never take you for granted. I vow to always protect you and hold you when life is wearing you down. I love you, y/n and (unintelligible) forever…”

Jean tries to have a more dignified reception but with friends like these… Pretty impossible.

But he wouldn’t change it for the world as he sits back and watches the people he loves the most, together and happy.

He cries again at your first dance.

You seal your marriage with the steamiest and most passionate love making known to man.

Erwin 💕

Like Levi, Erwin has a taste for the finer things and takes you out for a meal at a really fancy restaurant. He won’t propose there though.

Like Reiner, this man likes to be extra.

After dinner you take a stroll and end up outside of the scout regiment HQ in Trost. While you’re walking through the courtyard of the barracks, you’re surprised to see well dressed people emerge from inside buildings playing the violins.

You turn to Erwin to see him down on one knee with the ring.

The entire barracks erupt in applause when you say yes and he picks you up into a kiss.

Erwin doesn’t cry at the alter but seeing you softens his gaze and a warm smile spreads across his face, Levi beside him as best man.

“Y/N, I am the luckiest man alive to have you as my own, and I will cherish every fleeting moment. You love and accept me for who I am and stand by decisions I’ve made, even when I doubt myself. I swear to forever treat you as the queen you are, by my side, in our kingdom. I swear my heart will always be loyal to you and you alone. You are the beam that holds this chin up high, and I will always be yours.”

Like Levi’s reception, yours with Erwin is extremely refined.

Top class champagne, the finest foods and beautiful classics music.

Your first dance with him has everyone in awe as he twirls you with such skill, a talent not many knew he had.

You will not be able to walk for days after you make love that night, having pulled out all the stops for you.

Armin 💕

Armin had been planning your proposal for months.

He went super extra and planned it all out meticulously down to the tiniest detail. It was a whole day event. Clues, gifts, leading up to a scavenger hunt where he was awaiting nervously with the ring.

He actually couldn’t believe his ears when you said yes.

Armin cries at the alter. It’s less of a sob like Reiner and Jean, more like silent tears streaming down his face.

Of course, Eren is his best man.

“I didn’t think I would ever be standing here today, uttering these words. I didn’t think that I, of all people, would be marrying someone as perfect as you, Y/N. You bring so much joy to my life, so much laughter and love I could never write down in words how much you mean to me. I, Armin Arlert, vow to always remain by your side through thick and thin. I vow to take care of you if you get sick and to encourage and support you in all of your life’s endeavours. For now and forever, this I swear.”

The reception is more chilled than the others. Laid back and easy going. No one gets too hammered but it’s still just an amazing night with your loved ones.

Your first dance is so sweet, his eyes are closed with a warm smile the entire time as he holds you close and sways to the music.

If you thought Armin was a dark horse before, you ain’t seen nothing til the wedding night.

Yes. He broke the bed.

Connie 💕

God bless his pure soul because Connie tried so hard to make it perfect. He managed to pull it off by some miracle, despite the snowballing nerves that consumed him.

He took you out to dinner and bought you your favourite flowers. The words “Will you marry me?” Were spread out on the table when you returned from the restroom, by petals.

He cried when you said yes.

And he is a sobbing mess at the alter. Jean is his best man, elbowing him and hissing to pull himself together.

But he just can’t believe how lucky he is to have you as a wife.

“Y/N, you can’t believe how happy you make me. Every stupid thing I’ve done, every dumb thing that comes out of my mouth and you’re still there, loving me. I can’t begin to explain how much that means to me. How much you mean to me. I promise I will always treat you like it’s our first date. I’ll forever hold your hand when you need me to. And I promise I’ll write down important dates so I never forget and swear I will not disappoint you, my love.”

The wildest wedding party known to man.

Everyone is off their face drunk. Wild dancing. Food fights. Galore.

There was even arm wrestling at one point.

He can not get over that he has you. This sweet man is quite possibly the happiest man on earth.

You guys didn’t just break the bed that night. The chair, the ottoman and somehow the f'ing wardrobe???

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed. I am the friendliest person ever so don’t be shy to drop me a request or ask.

#aot wedding #marrying aot #snk wedding #snk x reader #snk x y/n #snk headcanons #reiner braun #reiner brainrot #aot #attack on titan eren #reiner x reader #reiner x you #levi x you #levi smut #captain levi #levi ackerman #erwin smith #erwin x y/n #aot erwin

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