#...from the far side of Tall Trees | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

serpentandlily · 10 months

Text

Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny - Eris x Reader

Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny - Eris x Archeron!Reader

Summary: You find yourself ensnared by a sly, cunning fox. A very handsome, irritating one.

Warnings: use of the nickname bunny

Based on THIS request.

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

Gods, you were going to be in so much trouble. You kept your fast pace as you walked through the woods, keeping your eye out for anything, anything, that might help you. The only reason you even knew where you were was the red and golden leaves adorning the trees, the scent of cinnamon and rain hanging in the crisp air. Autumn. You were in the Autumn Court.

You had just been practicing winnowing with Rhys, your brother-in-law. Since the war ended, the Inner Circle was finally spending more time helping you learn your magic. You had wanted to learn, to do more, ever since you had been turned fae, tossed in the cauldron like your sisters.

But being the youngest meant also having to take a back seat sometimes. Feyre and Nesta never let you do anything. Never let you help in any way. Not much changed after you had been turned fae.

The sound of dogs howling made you pause in your tracks. You stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do. They could be farm dogs, it could mean that someone was nearby, someone who could help you.

But you knew of the type of fae in the Autumn Court and it could also be someone who’d try to hurt you. You bit your lip, finally deciding to make a run for it as the howling got closer.

You took off down a line of trees, pushing yourself to run as fast as you could to create some distance between you and the pack of dogs. But a few stumbles over fallen branches and you could hear the pounding of their paws not far behind you.

A bark had you looking over your shoulder, cursing as you saw the hounds close behind. They yelped with excitement as they caught sight of you, picking up their pace.

Pain, awful, debilitating pain, rushed through your leg and you screamed, falling to the ground. You flipped yourself over to see your foot stuck in the claws of a bear trap, the metal prongs piercing through your skin. You cursed as you realized they must’ve been herding you here.

You let out another cry as you forced yourself to sit up and scoot closer to the trap. The dogs were still running at you and you desperately tried to yank the trap apart, to free your foot.

It was no use; the dogs were too fast. Faster than any dogs you’d ever encountered. You could do nothing but throw your arms over your face and scream, hoping someone would hear you before you were mauled to death by a pack of dogs.

To your utter shock, the feeling of teeth ripping into your flesh never came. You slowly put your arms down to see twelve hounds running in a circle around you, yapping and howling into the air. Each one gray and sleek like smoke.

Footsteps coming from behind you had you whipping around, eyes wide. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of a male. A very handsome male with silky red hair, whiskey amber eyes, and pale skin. He was tall, lithe, but he had the top three buttons of his shirt undone, giving you a glimpse of the muscles beneath.

The cobalt coat he wore was finely crafted, along with his pants and shoes. The haughty expression on his face told you exactly who you were looking at—Eris, the Heir of Autumn.

You swallowed audibly as he smirked down at you, coming to a halt a few paces away.

“Well what do we have here?” His voice was smooth like silk and it sent a shiver down your spine.

You said nothing as he let out a sharp whistle and the hounds circling you halted before running to his side. They sat behind him like perfect little guards, their unusual eyes still on you. You looked back up at the male, who had just stumbled upon you, trapped. He walked around your form, much like his hounds had been doing.

You couldn’t find any words. Mostly because of the pain of the bear trap ripping through your shin and foot. But also because you had only really ever heard horror stories about Eris—about his cruelty and cunning nature.

Eris’s fox-like face smirked down at you in amusement. “My hounds seem to have herded a little bunny into one of my traps. Do you have a name, bunny?”

Should you tell him who you were? That you were one of the Archeron sisters, that you were from the Night Court? You knew briefly through listening in on Feyre’s conversations that they considered Eris an ally. But they also said he could hardly be trusted.

“Does the little bunny not have a voice?” Eris purred, still circling around you like a predator playing with its food. “Hm, let me guess. The golden brown hair and the big, brown doe eyes that look incredibly similar to my brother’s mate’s…Have I trapped an Archeron?”

You used the sleeve of your dress to wipe at the tear tracks on your cheeks. You tried to back away from him, but the movement only jostled your leg, causing a small whimper to escape your throat.

“I-I’m not sure how I ended up here, my Lord,” you mumbled. Gods, you felt pathetic. “Can you p-please help me?”

Eris tilted his head at you, in an animalistic way you still weren’t used to with the fae. He studied you for a moment before another smirk bloomed on his handsome fox-like face. He was picturesque with his disarming beauty.

“You see, I think this is all a bit unfair. You seem to know who I am, but you still haven’t told me your name, little bunny.” He knelt down next to you, reaching a gloved hand out to push some of your hair from your face.

It should’ve alarmed you, his closeness, the touch of his hand. But for some reason, it didn’t. You swallowed again, considering your options. Maybe he would help you get home.

“I’m one of Feyre’s sisters,” you managed to stutter out.

“Is that so?” He seemed to be enjoying this. “And what is the name of the bunny I’ve managed to trap?”

You mumbled your name out loud, glancing around the meadow you were in, at the hounds that were now all laying down, still staring at you. You blinked at them and the biggest one, the leader of the pack, stood suddenly. You kept your eyes trained on her as she marched over to you, shaking as you examined her large head, her jaw that could easily rip your throat out.

But to your surprise, she merely meandered over to you and brushed her head against yours, letting out a low whine. Your eyes widened, looking over at Eris for a second to see a flicker of shock cross his face. The hound let out a small yip before licking the side of your face, drawing out a surprised giggle from you. Was she trying to…comfort you?

“Ashera,” Eris said sternly with a snap of the fingers. But the hound merely glanced at him and then went back to nudging you with her fluffy head.

You raised a shaky hand and stroked her back, bewildered by the dog's behavior. She licked you up the side of your face again and Eris said her name a little louder this time, making her ears twitch. She whined at him but listened, going back to the other dogs.

“I didn’t know there was a fourth Archeron sister. Where have they been hiding you?” Eris asked, drawing your attention back to him. “And why?”

You shrugged your shoulders. Had they been hiding you? No one has ever mentioned keeping you a secret. “I-I don’t know.”

He waved a hand in the air, summoning a piece of parchment and pen. He quickly scribbled something on it before flicking it away. You watched it disappear with awe, still taken aback by the use of magic.

Eris seemed to remember you were still stuck. He let out a sigh and placed his hands on both sides of the trap. He paused to look at you. “Sorry, little bunny, but this is going to hurt.”

And then he pulled the trap apart with his bare hands. You let out a loud cry as the metal spikes were pulled out of your leg. You whimpered, pulling your knee to your chest as you examined the damage to your shin.

Blood was now gushing from the wounds that circled around your shin. You grabbed some of your skirt in your hand, intending to use it to put pressure on the wounds but Eris’s hand shot out and grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t do that,” he hissed. “Are you dumb? Your skirt is covered in dirt and mud. You’ll only infect it.”

Your cheeks turned red with embarrassment. He reached a hand towards you but now free from the trap, you scrambled away from him with a whimper. He let out an amused chuckle.

“No need to be frightened, little bunny,” he purred. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

You looked at him warily as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, dangling it in the air between the two of you. You swallowed audibly but didn’t move as he approached again and wrapped it around your ankle as a makeshift gauze.

He hummed, standing up and brushing invisible dirt from his pants. “Now, are you going to tell me why exactly an Archeron is in my court?”

“I was learning how to winnow. I-I don’t know how I ended up here. One minute I was in Velaris and then next, I was here.”

He clicked his tongue, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Interesting. Well, come on. Let’s get to Spring so someone can come retrieve you before you get yourself killed.”

Eris held at his gloved hand to you. You took it, letting him help you rise from the ground, trying to keep weight off your injured ankle. As soon as you were up, he winnowed the two of you away.

A moment later, you appeared on the border of Autumn and Spring. You would’ve fallen over if it wasn’t for Eris grabbing you by the upper arm. You blushed, muttering a small thank you.

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to walk the rest of the way so we don’t set off any wards that will alert my father,” Eris said, coolly.

He set off and you trailed after him, hobbling slowly because of your injury. You only made it a few paces before Eris turned around.

“Hurry it up, bunny, I don’t have all day.”

Your eyes narrowed at him. “Sorry, it’s a little hard to walk considering my foot was just in a bear trap.”

Eris tsked, looking down at your ankle before his eyes trailed up your form. He let out a sigh and strided back to you. Before you could even figure out what he was doing, he grabbed you by the waist and tossed you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

You squeaked in surprise. “What are you doing?! Put me down!”

“Like I said, I don’t have all day,” Eris said, stalking off towards the border to Spring. You jostled on his shoulder with each step he took but he held you firmly with an arm around your thighs like you weighed absolutely nothing.

You pounded on his back with your fists. “Ugh, Let me down!”

“You even hit with the strength of a rabbit,” Eris laughed to himself, ignoring your attempts to free yourself from his hold.

“Jerk,” you scoffed, crossing your arms as you dangled there.

Eris just laughed again. You bickered with him all the way to a clearing where he finally came to a stop and put you down. You huffed, smoothing down your dress and hair as you glared up at him.

“You’re welcome,” he purred with an arrogant smile.

The shadows around the clearing seemed to move in a flurry and then a familiar face stepped out of the darkness.

“Get away from her,” Azriel growled at Eris.

Eris held his hands up, that smile never leaving his face as Azriel stalked towards you. His eyes narrowed as he sniffed, smelling the blood on you.

“Did he hurt you?” Azriel asked, his tone dark. He grabbed you by the arm and yanked you to his side, causing you to stumble.

Before you could even open your mouth, Eris cut in.

“Must you have such a low opinion of me, shadowsinger.” Eris wore that fox-like grin again. “I haven’t harmed a single hair on her head.”

Azriel looked to you, waiting for you to verify his story.

“He speaks the truth, Azriel,” you said, clutching your ankle. “I ran into a bear trap on my own. He helped me out of it and brought me here.”

“And why were you running?” Azriel tossed Eris a glare.

“His d-dogs scared me. But they’re friendly,” you replied, trying to ease the tension in the air.

Eris scoffed, as if no one had ever referred to his hounds as friendly before.

Azriel looked at you with exasperation. “Come on, let’s get you home. No need to linger here.” He glared at Eris one last time.

Before you could protest, he hoisted you up into his arms. You glanced at Eris one last time to see a moment of shock cross his face as he met your gaze.

“Thank you,” you called out as you gave him a small wave before you were swept away in the shadows.

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

You didn’t see Eris again for months. Not until Winter Solstice, when it had been decided that Nesta would try to intrigue him enough to keep him as a steady ally. When Elain had declared that she was going to join the Inner Circle in the Court of Nightmares, you had demanded to be taken as well, despite arguments from nearly everyone. But you were tired of being treated like a baby.

You had gotten your way in the end, after agreeing to strict orders to stay at the foot of the dais the entire time. It wasn’t ideal but it was something…better than staying home.

You were dressed in a black tulle, A-line gown. The bodice was sheer but adorned with lace appliques embedded with shining silver gems. It had a sweetheart neckline and off the shoulder lace straps. It swept the floor with tulle and lace, pooling at your feet like dark water. It was beautiful, more girlish than the dress Nesta was wearing but not as plain as Elain’s modest, long-sleeved dress.

You stood at the bottom of the dais next to your sisters, between the two Illyrian warriors, as your sister addressed the crowd. Eris was standing next to Keir at the head of the gathered crowd, dressed in Night Court black himself. It was hard to deny how truly beautiful he was—especially with his striking red hair contrasting the black so well. You could feel his eyes on you from time to time but kept your gaze forward.

“May the blessings of the Winter Solstice be upon you,” Feyre declared.

Keir was the first to approach with a low bow. “Allow me to extend my congratulations.”

“And allow me to extend mine as well, on behalf of my father and the entire Autumn Court.” Eris had stalked forward as well, giving your sister a pretty, cultivated smile. “He shall be thrilled by the news.”

“I’m sure he will.” Rhys kept his eyes trained on the Autumn Heir. “Music!”

An orchestra began playing and Feyre raised her voice and said, “Go—eat.”

The crowd slowly began to dissipate. Keir also disappeared as half the crowd began to dance seamlessly to the music.

“Before you join the merriment, Eris,” Rhys drawled. “I’d like to present you with your Solstice gift.”

You tuned out the conversation, taking in the rest of the throne room. It was your first time here in Hewn City. It was as monstrous as expected. But beautiful still, in the dark way that screamed Night.

You tuned back into the conversation just as Feyre spoke, “Ordinarily I would ask you to dance, but my condition has left me unwell enough that I worry about what so much spinning would do to my stomach.”

She looked at the three of you, as if deciding who she would offer to the Heir of Autumn even though it had already been decided. Elain gave a passable impression of appearing interested, as she had been directed to. Nesta just looked bored. Rhys and Feyre had given you no direction, claiming Eris would be tempted more by power and a wide-eyed, young girl, as they had called you, would not be of interest to him.

“My oldest sister shall take my place.”

But it was like Eris hadn’t heard Feyre speak as he stepped forward and stopped in front of you, not Nesta. You blinked at him, your brows raising with confusion as he extended his hand to you, an open invitation.

“I’ll take the little bunny,” Eris purred with that fox-like grin. He kept his amber eyes on you, not looking towards Feyre despite speaking to her. “If the Lady agrees, of course.”

“I-I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the dances, my Lord,” you said, politely, ignoring the hand outstretched to you as your cheeks turned red at the attention.

Eris didn’t back down. “That’s quite alright. I’ve been told I’m a good lead.”

You glanced at Feyre and Rhys, uncertain of what you were supposed to do. This wasn’t the plan. Eris was never supposed to take interest in you. You were a speck of dust compared to the power rolling off Nesta—power, the only thing he was supposed to care about.

You felt talons scrape your mind and let your sister in.

Just go with it for now. We’ll send in Azriel to take over before it goes too far.

You slipped your hand in Eris’s hold and let him escort you to the dance floor just as the dance finished and the introductory strains of the next began. You couldn’t wipe the wide-eyed look off your face as much as you tried to. You placed your free hand on his shoulder just as his broad hand slid around your waist, pulling you even closer to him.

You blushed, somehow turning even more red than you already had been.

He leaned down to whisper in your ear just as the violins began their song.

“And so the fox ensnares the bunny again.”

Your eyes narrowed at him. “Stop calling me that.”

“Why?” he purred, beginning to lead you into the dance. “It just seems so fitting.”

“It’s not,” you grumbled, trying not to stumble over your own feet. You were lucky that this waltz was similar to the one from the human lands or else you would have surely embarrassed yourself already.

The pair of you finished your first rotation around the dance floor in silence but that smirk never seemed to leave Eris’s face to your annoyance. Flame simmered in his eyes, never leaving yours for a second. You felt something flutter in your chest.

“So,” Eris finally spoke. “Have your owners finally let you out of your cage?”

“I am not caged here,” you murmured. “Just because they don’t find you pleasant company, doesn’t mean I haven’t been allowed around others.”

You snapped your mouth shut, a brief wave of horror passing through you. You had just insulted him. You had just done the opposite of what was supposed to be happening tonight. But to your surprise, Eris just chuckled, not seeming offended at all.

“Do you find me unpleasant, Lady?”

“I remain undecided, my Lord,” you said. “Though everyone certainly has a lot to say about you.”

“What lies have they told you about me, sweetheart?” He twirled your around again, your skirt swishing in the air. A faint fluttering of butterflies grew in your stomach.

“What are these lies you speak of, my Lord?”

You tried to channel your sister but it came out so wrong. You didn’t sound as aloof as her. Nor as cold.

“Don’t try to play the game they want you to.” Eris’s smirk grew into a grin. “It does not suit you, bunny.”

“Maybe if you stopped playing games, I wouldn’t feel the need to as well,” you muttered with a frown. Eris’s grin sharpened.

You were failing at this task. Failing so profoundly that it was embarrassing. You hoped your family couldn’t hear this conversation.

“This is not a game to me, little bunny,” Eris purred, his grip around your waist tightening. “None of it is.”

“Your behavior seems to say otherwise. So does your reputation.”

“Do I not ally myself with this court under constant threat of being discovered and killed by my father? Do I not offer aid whenever Rhysand wishes?”

“That matters little to me, my Lord,” you said. “I am not a piece on this political chessboard you seem to have with Rhysand.”

“So what matters to you, Y/n?” Eris kept pace with the other dancers and you followed his lead as best as you could. “Tell me. I wish to know.”

Your hand slipped from his shoulder, down to his chest and right over his beating heart. “This. This is what matters to me. I would rather someone good of heart over someone with power.”

“How sweet,” Eris teased. “How naive.”

“Gods forbid someone be hopeful for the goodness of people to be the change in this world,” you bristled.

To your surprise, Eris merely smirked once again. “Goodness cannot exist amongst cruelty, sweetheart. Just as hope cannot exist under the burden of responsibility.”

You studied him closely. “Aren’t you tired of putting on a show, Eris? I have seen monsters. You do not seem like one of them.”

Eris yanked you closer and your heart began to pound in your chest. “Then I’d say you haven’t seen enough of the world and its monsters if you truly believe that, bunny.”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Wide-eyed, fluffy tailed,” Eris listed off, his fox-like grin returning. “Still has hope that she can change the world. I have seen this story, sweetheart. I know how it ends. Perhaps it would be best for you to return to your safe, little burrow where you belong.”

A wave of anger crashed into you, your body heating up.

“You don’t get to tell me where I belong. No one does,” you huffed. “Especially not a jerk who doesn’t have dreams of his own and lets everyone else dictate who he is!”

Eris didn’t seem perturbed by your impassioned speech. If anything, his grin seemed to grow. You hadn’t even realized the song had ended and that the two of you had come to a halt on the edge of the dance floor, too lost in your anger.

“You’re just going to have to learn the hard way, sweetheart. You think having dreams and hope makes you something but it doesn’t. It can’t.” Your hand dropped from his chest as he brought the one he was holding up to his lips. “You are only ever going to be what others think you are.”

He pressed a kiss to your knuckles before letting it fall to your side.

“Sly fox.” He pointed to himself before turning his hand to you in a sweeping gesture. “Dumb bunny.”

“I am not a dumb bunny,” you growled.

“Right,” he drawled in a teasing manner that infuriated you. “And you are definitely not caged here, either.”

Your eyes widened as he strode away from you, disappearing in the crowd but not before he tossed one last remark over his shoulder, “I’ll catch you later, bunny.”

You stared at his back as a scarred hand landed on your shoulder with a firm grip, knocking you out of your stupor. You looked up at Azriel, at his cold, unreadable face that stared down at you.

“Come on,” he murmured. “I’ve been ordered to take you back home.”

And just like that, your night–and freedom—was over. Eris’s words and his stupidly handsome face haunted you the entire journey back to Velaris.

#acotar fanfiction #acotar x you #acotar x reader #acotar #eris vanserra #eris x reader #eris acotar #eris x you #eris x y/n #autumn court #eris fanfic #eris imagine #acosf #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra acotar #eris vanserra fic

3K notes · View notes

greatestexpectationss · 8 months

Text

Poison Ivy

Luke Castellan x Fem!Daughter of Persephone Reader

Description: You've been best friends with Luke Castellan since you were 14 years old. Now you teeter on the edge of something more, but your jealousy causes you to question everything.

You’re a child of Persephone, one of the far and few in between. Your mother had claimed you an entire year after you’d arrived at camp. Chiron had claimed it was to protect you from Hades' wrath, but you’d had a sickly feeling it was more than that. Children of Persephone are all springtime and warmth, and perhaps you are in the light of day but in the cover of the night, there is something else that claws at you. You are more winter than spring.

Your dad says its normal to feel disconnected from your mother at this age, but you don’t just feel disconnected you feel abandonded.

You’d never met your mother but you're so so angry with her.

Being the daughter of the goddess of spring came with expectations. You are loyal and kind, with a bit of a wild side. Your powers had manifested as chlorokinesis, you're particularly fond of plants, much like the children of Demeter, but you've got a hardness they don't have, a certain darkness only a child of the underworld could understand. You’d learned that on your quest, where you’d even able to speak and command hellhounds.

There was more to you than meets the eye.

For instance, your infamous knack for growing poison ivy around those who piss you of. It had earned you a loving nickname from Luke…

“Poison” he’d called you after a particularly nasty sprouting during a game of capture the flag when you were just 14 years old. It had been Luke’s first game at camp, some Ares boys were terrorizing him up in the trees, when you’d seen it you felt bad for him. Everyone knew the story of how Luke and Annabeth had arrived at camp with Grover and what had been sacraficed to get there or rather who. You’d come to his rescue, sprouting poison Ivy from nothing wrapping it around their legs and taking them out of the game in one fail swoop with your daggers.

They glared at you for weeks.

It had started a long-lasting friendship between you and Luke. You two were close, and you helped him out in the Hermes cabin a lot. You trained together, ate together, really you did everything together. Luke understands the burning anger that sits beneath the surface of your skin. He knows the warmth and brightness you radiate during the days, but he also knows the bitter darkness that hides within you.

Luke sees you under your mask and still he stays.

Maybe that's why you’d fallen so hard for him.

It was hard not to fall for Luke. He’s all tall, dark and handsome. He’s the best swordsman this camp has seen in 300 years, he radiates confidence and commands respect. But even without all of that everyone loves Luke. It's hard not to, really. He’s kind and brave. It’s no wonder the Aphrodite girls are so enamored with him, really most girls are.

Sometimes you’d catch him looking at you with this funny soft look in his eyes. His touch would linger longer than necessary when helping you during archery practice, and he’d laugh a little too loudly at your jokes, and give you that rare goofy grin when he finds you in a room full of people.

It’s in those moment you’d wonder if he feels the same way. When his words are just for you, when he drags you by your hand to the dock and lays down beside you to look at the starts. When he kisses you cheek before the both of you return to the cabin, when he peeks over the side of your bunk and whispers the sweetest goodnight.

But then there are times you think you're delusional.

Like tonight for instance.

You're sitting at the post capture the flag bonfire with a few of your friends. Selina from Aphrodite, Clarisse from Ares, Katie, from the Demeter cabin, and Juliette from Athena. The Apollo kids are singing and you're in a particularly good mood from winning. But then you look across the fire and Luke has a pretty Aphrodite girl dotting on him, Haley, you think her name is. She’s whispering in his ear, perfectly painted nails wrapped around his forearm.

She's the type of girl Luke deserves.

Juliette's finger snaps in front of your face drawing you away from your pity party. You sit on the bottom step of the bleachers with a leg on either side. Facing you is Juliette, up a step to your right sits Selina, Katie, and Clarisse.

“Hello earth to Y/N, anyone in there??” Clarisse asks, your eyes snap to her and bounce between the others, they all look ammused.

“Sorry,” you mumble cheeks heating in embarsement.

They all look over your head where you’d been staring, There's a knowing look that is shared between them before they looking back at you with a mix of exasperation, ammusment, and pity.

You don't know which one is worse.

“C’mon you don't think Luke’s really into that chick do you?” Katie asks you.

“That chicks name is Haley,” Silena reminds, before reaching out and squeezing you hand, “and Katie’s right everyone knows Luke’s crazy for you, I don't know why she's even bothering.”

Clarisse scoffs and cracks her knuckles, “I can kick both their asses if you want.”

This draws a laugh from you.

“Hey, there she is!” Juliette exclaims, pinching your cheek, you swat her hands away and roll your eyes, the pity is leaving your body but you're still left with the bitter taste of jealousy.

“We’re just friends,” is what you settle with, earning an eye roll from all four of your friends.

“We are!” you insist, running a hand through your hair, “He can flirt with whoever he wants.”

“Y/N, do you think we’re dumb?” Clarisse asks.

“What? No of course I don’t—”

“Well then you know you can’t lie to us,” Katie says, she's much kinder than Clarisse who stares at you expectantly. A classic daughter of Demeter, she reaches for your hand and squeezes. You close your eyes for a second and sigh before looking back over at Luke. The Aphrodite girl is sitting closer to him now, he's nodding along to something she's said. You look away quickly.

“Katie’s right, and as a daughter of Aphrodite I can tell you without a doubt Castellan is just as crazy for you as you are him,” Silena’s so sure of herself, you wish you could feel that confident, you wish you knew how he felt.

“Yeah well it sure doesn't seem that way,” you gesture towards where they’re sitting. Across from you Juliette hums.

“Maybe he’s confused,” she says

“Or maybe Haley just doesn't know how to take a hint” Clarisse grumbles. You sigh and swing your leg over the bleachers before standing up.

“Where are you going?” Katie asks, brow furrowed.

“I just need some air,” you say.

“Y/N we’re literally outside,” Clarisse quips, you glare at her.

“Figurative air,” you say, gesturing wildly around you, away from all of this.”

You're much too aware of how pathetic this all is, you pining in a corner with your friends and Luke across the way with a pretty girl who deserves him. You're not some scorned lover, you're just a sad teenage girl.

“Do you want me to come?” Juliette asks you. She's such a good friend, fiercely loyal, they all are really, and you're incredibly thankful for them.

You wave her off anyway, “I’ll be fine, I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

Your friends say their goodbyes, not before reminding you for the thousandth time about the small party in the Aphrodite cabin later that evening.

If you'd been paying attention you'd have noticed Luke’s boredom, you’d have noticed his eye that always seemed to follow you.

It’s darker as you get further away from the bonfire, you don't mind, the few lanterns lighting the path to the lake give you enough light that you can at least see where you're going. When you arrive at the lake, you're thankful no one else has had the same idea. You can't even count the number of times you've snuck away with Luke only to find numerous couples making out.

Tonight there's no one, maybe because it had been a particularly rough game of capture the flag, or maybe because the usual suspects (aka Chris and Clarisse) are still at the bonfire.

You make your way toward the end of the dock before sitting down, feet dangling off the edge you lean back on your hands and lift your head back to look at the stars. Around you the only sound is nature, and very far off in the distance, you can hear the faintest sound of the Apollo kids singing. Their voices echo and combine with the sounds of the trees.

It would be peaceful if you weren't so miserable.

“There you are.”

You open your eyes and turn your head over the shoulder. Luke’s approaching you with that goofy grin on his face and a sweatshirt in his hands. He pops down next to you on the dock and hands you the sweater.

“I figured you’d get cold, you didn't have a jacket at the bonfire,” he explains when you give him a confused smile.

“Oh,” you say meekly, pulling it over your head, it's much too big for you and it smells like Luke and kind of makes you want to cry. Still, you tell him thank you. His smile drops a little when you don't say anything else.

“You wanna tell me what's wrong Poison?” he asked gently, nudging your shoulder with his. You pick at the sleeves of his sweater, eyebrows furrowed, but hearing the concern in his voice you manage a small smile.

“Nothing’s wrong, I'm just tired,” you excuse. You meet his eyes and you can tell he doesn't believe you.

“Y/N—”

“Seriously, I'm good, thank you for checking on me, and thank you for your jacket but you should go back I'm sure Haley is wondering where you are and I'm really okay,” you promise. He’s got the goofy grin on his face again and he lets out a breathy laugh.

“Are you laughing at me?” you asked annoyed. He’s still smiling like he knows something you don't, he's enjoying this.

“What?”

“You're jealous,” you go wide-eyed eyes at his declaration, but you recover quickly with a scoff.

"I am not jealous," you deny, your voice gives you away when it quivers on the last syllable of your sentence. Luke’s grin only grows.

"Yeah okay Poison," he throws an arm over your shoulder, "whatever you say."

I’m going to push him into the lake, you think to yourself.

You don’t, instead, you settle for pushing his arm off of your shoulder.

"Whatever, I’m outta here," you say before promptly standing up and storming up the dock. You've got tears in your eyes you're thankful he didn't see. You can hear him laughing and calling for you but you don't turn around. You know he's not doing it to be mean, Luke's got a thing for teasing you, and you know he thinks that's what this is.

It doesn't make the sting of it any less.

Luke's got long legs, and you can hear him scrambling after you calling your name. You ignore him up the dock and the sand before he stops you stepping in your path.

"C'mon Poison I know I'm hard to resi–" he stops when he sees the tears in your eyes and you turn your face away from him. His brows furrow in concern when he realizes you don’t think it's funny. He reaches for you again but you take a step back and cross your arms over your chest.

"Hey, hey, hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong"

"You're crying"

"So?"

He looks at you like you've sprouted 8 heads.

"What do you mean so??" You pinch the bridge of your nose, you've seriously had enough of him playing dumb. "Can you just drop it please?" you beg, shifting on your feet and wiping furiously at your eyes before any tears can actually fall from your waterline.

But he's Luke and your Y/N and you should know by now he's not gonna drop it.

"Wait," he hums taking a step closer to you and prying your crossed arms away from the safety of your body, he holds both of your hands with his own and presses them to his chest, you've got nowhere to hide. Finally, he asks, "Were you actually jealous?"

His tone is softer this time, it holds no teasing just a gentleness you can't quite describe. You don't know if it’s pity or fondness, you're not sure which answer scares you more. You still can’t look him in the eyes.

"No–"

"Y/N, c'mon don't lie to me."

You huff in response. He steps even closer to you.

"Last week Lee Fletcher was helping you at archery practice," he says finally, you look at him now, his grin is gone but the soft smile he’s giving you, makes you feel like he’s going to let you down easy. He’s going to use Lee as a buffer, say it's clear there's something there when it's nothing. You feel for Lee the kind of platonic love you wish you felt for Luke.

What you feel for Luke is world-changing and gut-wrenching.

"Okay,” is all you can say, you try to step away again but Luke just grips your hands a little tighter.

“Just let me finish,” he pleads, you nod your head and avoid direct eye contact with him, instead you focus on his dark hair, the dark curls that shine under the moonlight. If he notices you aren’t looking him in the eye, he’s at least nice enough not to say anything about it.

"He said something to you, I wasn't close enough to hear what it was but it had you cracking up and laughing in the best way," Luke takes his thumb and stokes the corner of your mouth, "you get a little dimple right here when you laugh did you know that?"

You didn't, you also didn't even know he had been there that day. You don't even remember what Lee said that had made you laugh, something about your aim.

"What's your point?" you mumble, his touch on your face is searing and his other hand has moved to your waist, you can feel the burn of his skin through your (his) jacket. You finally cave and meet his eyes, he’s looking at you with such softness you think you might melt on the spit. You're not stupid either, you know what this is. But you need to hear him say it, or you might actually die.

"I was jealous," he shrugs, like it's no big deal, thumb tracing up your check to tuck a stray hair behind your ear before dragging it down to cup your face. "I didn't have any reason to be but I was.”

Then with that goofy grin he says, “Kinda sounds like someone else I know."

You’re smiling at him now, you both know this is teetering far too close to the edge to come back from now. In fact, even without him saying it, without kissing him, you don’t think you could ever come back from this.

"Why?" you ask him, hands coming to rest at the nape of his neck, you play with the strings of his camp necklace to distract yourself from the lessening distance between the two of you. He’s dipping his head closer to you, so close that if he speaks your lips will touch. You want him to kiss you in a way you’ve never wanted anything before.

"You know why." And then he's kissing you. His arm around your waist tightens instinctively, and he presses his lips to yours hungrily, like a starved man who's just arrived at a feast. Your hands drop his necklace and weave through the shorter hair at the nape of his neck, something akin to a sigh of relief floods through both of you. His hand is in your hair now, and he tasted of marshmallows and spearmint, something so distinctly Luke. It’s incredibly intoxicating you don’t want to pull away. And you don’t until you absolutely have to in order to catch your breath, Luke chases after your lips with his own. Kissing them softly once, and then twice, before pulling back and looking at you with a smile on his face. This time you return it, a little laugh escapes your lips before it grows louder.

“Alright now who’s laughing at who?” he grumbles, still smiling despite his tone, his thumb strokes your dimple, and it allows you to compose youself.

“I’m sorry,” you say reaching up to kiss him softly again. He’s smiling still, so you know you haven’t really offended him. “I just kinda feel like an idiot now,” you admit.

“Well you are one,” he tells you cheekily, squezzing your sides with both hands in the way he knows you both adore and detest, you squeal and stumble into him, gripping onto his biceps in attempts to get him to stop. “You’re absolutely the dumbest person alive if you think there’s any world that I would wanna do this with anyone else.”

“Really?” you ask.

“Really,” he confirms. You reach up and kiss him again, a little more searing than sweet. Both of Luke’s hands are back in your hair and he’s kissing you back just as fervently, you feel his tongue slip in your mouth, and you swear you’ve died and gone to heaven. It’s Luke who pulls away this time, gasping for air.

“I think I might be in love with you,” he admits.

“Yeah, I think I might be in love with you too.”

Suddenly you both hear footsteps approaching quick and heavy, Clarisse stops in front of you both and takes in your dishelved appearance, before rolling her eyes and yelling.

“Guys I found them! You all owe me $20!” she calls out to what you assume to be your group of friends.

“Clarisse what the hell?” you mutter stepping away from Luke reluctantly. Chris comes barelling out of the forest, tripping over shrubbery. Luke pouts at the loss of contact

“They were making out?” he pouts to Clarisse who gestures towards you both as if to say well just look at them! then Chris turns to you and Luke, “You guys couldn’t have waited like one more day?”

You laugh as Luke whacks him upside the head. The four of you begin making your way towards the rest of your friends and the Aphrodite cabin where the party (which is so not a party) is. Your girlfriends squeal and Luke’s friends cringe. Luke throws his arm around your shoulder, "All good Poison?" he ask.

"I'm good, how are you?" he laughs and kisses your head.

"Never better."

You look up at him fondly and kiss the bottom of his scar as the two of you enter the cabin with the rest of your friends.

Across the room, Haley pouts with her siblings, but you don’t notice. You’re too enamored with Luke, the boy you’ve loved for as long as you can remember. The boy who loves you back.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan imagine #pjo series #luke castellan oneshot #pjo tv show #pjo fanfic #luke castellan pjo #x reader #fem reader #reader insert

2K notes · View notes

bitten-fruit · 7 months

Note

price….. in a.. a.. cowboy hat

girl... you have no idea what you have done to me with this ask. Cowboy Price!?? I had so much fun with this, I might even do a part 2! I'm sorry this took me so long - I really hope you like it!!! ♡

18+ mdni - cw: chasing, spanking - 3.2k words

John Price owns the ranch that neighbours your father's. You've got a habit of climbing the fence between them, snooping around Mr Price's property and leaving traces of your misbehaviour behind. This time, he catches you.

Here’s part 2!

Daddy had warned you about wandering onto Mr Price’s property. The lichen-coated fence that separated his land and your father’s spanned miles; carving through tall dry grass, through woods of oak and pine trees, over a bumbling shallow creek. It was easy enough to climb over, but there was one little gap in the barrier, where the splintering planks had fallen from their fastenings. Tucked under a towering cottonwood tree, hidden by the grass, it was easy to wander through as if it were more of your own land on the other side.

Mr Price was a reticent man. An arguably shadowy figure, who you might occasionally see on horseback up on the hilltops of his ranch, tan cattleman hat bowed as he surveyed his acreage. You had met him, once or twice, as a girl. Then, he was in his early twenties, tall and aloof. Eldest of three sons, all three of whom had enlisted and served, sent to fight a war whose nature you were oblivious to in your innocence. He had been absent for years, and once his father was taken by whatever cancer he chose not to treat, John was the only one of the three to return.

His father you had known, vaguely, only as a man that your father despised with an unwavering passion. Some daft rivalry, dating back long before you were born. Whatever enmity existed between old men had not quite been passed on to the last remaining son, it seemed – where there might have been out-and-out conflict, existed only cold disinterest.

Thus explained your intrigue. You found yourself strangely captivated by him, in a nosy sort of way, once he had finally come home. Suddenly bearded and jaded, no longer the bright-faced young man you had distantly remembered, he had picked up where his father had left off. He lived alone, as far as you were aware, in his inherited six-bedroom farmhouse, atop a five-thousand-acre piece of natural splendour. Don’t bother the man, daddy would tell you, he’s not our friend.

But you had always been at the mercy of your impish curiosity. You couldn’t help it. It was an impulse, a compulsion, to stick your fingers where they didn’t belong. You would habitually explore his acres when you came home from college. You’d peek into his empty old shacks, pet his mooing cattle, pick handfuls of wildflowers from his unkempt fields.

Sometimes you’d sneak into his stables. You’d coo at his horses, stroke their velvet snouts, feed them the flowers you had plucked with a smile. They had grown to like you, his sweet horses, you wished you could know their names. They probably liked you more than him, no doubt, the mysterious little neighbour that would sneak in at dusk and feed them treats.

But your most regular habit – one that had gotten you into trouble before – was your proclivity for picking bunches of glossy red cherries from his rows of fruiting cherry trees. The orchard was under-loved and weedy, but those glimmering little baubles of ruby were just too delightful to let fall to the grass and rot.

He had caught you, once, while your arms were stretched far above you, reaching among the droopy branches and floppy leaves to pick the brightest sun-ripened cherries. You had heard him yelling;

“Hey! I see you in there, missy!”

Lips stained red, slick with sweet juice, you gave him a puckish grin before you ran off like a rabbit and hopped back over the fence.

“There’ll be trouble next time I catch you over here, little lady,” he had roared after you, watching you clamber over the oaken planks, “You hear me?”

It didn’t stop you, of course, whatever threat he threw at you. If anything, it emboldened you. Now you meandered down the rows of cherry trees like they belonged to you, picking the prettiest ones, popping them behind your teeth and meticulously nibbling the flesh from the pit, spitting them into the grass as you moved onto the next.

You left a trail wherever you ventured. Little wet pits and green tooth-pick stalks in piles around the place; in stables, along pathways, among the cows. Sometimes you’d leave juicy red fingerprints on doorframes, on the planks of the fence, on horse snouts – perfectly incriminating.

Today was no different. You wandered in scuffing sandals along an old dirt road, green sprigs of grass almost covering it entirely. Some old route that settlers may have followed state to state, spotted occasionally with two-hundred-year-old milestones, ignored just enough to have been spared from crumbling to dust.

Shaded by a cottonwood, humming to yourself, you created a little tipi with your cherry stalks on the flat top of a mile marker. Balanced them carefully as you licked the fruity flesh from your teeth. And when a gentle breeze blew it over, scattering your creation, you leaned over the stone to pick them from the dry gravel around its base.

One, two, three, four…

At the familiar rumble of a truck trundling over dirt, you straighten your spine, palms resting on the edge of the milestone as you look over your shoulder. A dusty Chevy square-body had already coasted to a stop behind you, red paint faded and matte after a decade or two of proper use and neglect.

There he was, the enigmatic man, hanging his elbow out of the open window. Mr Price squinted through the glare of the afternoon sun, crow’s-feet pinching, eyes barely shaded by the cattleman he wore even inside his truck. Your throat bobbed with a swallow as you caught his eye; the flitter of adrenaline buzzed in your chest, toeing the line between nerves and excitement.

With a disapproving suck of his teeth, he grumbled at you, “What’d I tell you about catching you back here?”

Plucking the short skirt of your cotton dress downward, to cover where it had ridden up, you spun around to face him demurely.

“You said there’d be trouble,” you answered with a simper, shyly scratching the back of one hand with the fingernails of the other.

“Mhm,” he grunted in agreement, tapping the metal door with his palm. He flicked his head in gesture for you to make your way around to the passenger side. “Get in.”

A crease pulled between your brows as you frowned at him. “What for?”

“I’m takin’ you back to your daddy,” he barked, irate and impatient, “I’ve got some words for him, too.”

You absently kicked the rocky dirt with the heel of your sandal, pouting at him. “What words would those be?”

With a snort, he rocked his head to peer out of his windshield, then back to you. “To keep a fuckin’ handle on his daughter.”

“Don’t think there’s anything you could tell him that he hasn’t already tried,” you mumbled, attempting to subtly flick the handful of cherry stalks you had collected to the ground.

He chuckled at that, breathy and hoarse, a hint of frustration in his throat. “I believe that,” he scoffed, “c’mon. In. Don’t make me ask again.”

You chewed on your lip, squinting in challenge as you stood up straight. “Or what?”

Glowering at you for a moment, his nostrils flared in frustration, as he seemed to swallow what must have been an inappropriate retort. Instead, his arm retracted through his window, and following the thud of the handle he swung open the door with his forearm.

With a hop he landed in the dirt, dust rising from under his well-worn leather boots. You hadn’t seen him up close in as long as you could remember, and Christ, how he towered over you. It may well have been the looming shadow of his sizzling anger that made him seem so daunting, so delightfully thrilling. You felt the shiver of gooseflesh tingle down the nape of your neck as you tilted your head to look up at him, sheepishly watching his steady approach.

“You’ll be in more trouble than I will if you lay a hand on me,” you spat, with a faint curl in your lips, almost daring.

He gazed down the bridge of his nose at you, wearing a snide and thin smirk, curled under his dense beard. But as his gaze raked you up and down, his sneer shifted quickly into a pout of disapproval, eyes caught on your chest.

“Care to explain this?” He queried severely, wide hand reaching for you; you leaned back further against the milestone behind you as if it might evade him. With his fingers he pinched the cream linen of your blouse, and for a moment you feared he was peering down the gap - brazenly inspecting your bare breasts underneath.

But, no, he instead curled the fabric between his fingers to show you the bright red stain dribbled down the front of your dress.

Oops. Your gut reaction was to giggle, yet unsure whether to admit guilt or feign ignorance.

As you parted your lips to speak, his judging hand suddenly moved to your face; a hold of your chin with a thumb and hooked finger. Piercing glare glued to your lips, his eyes sunk into a defeated ire, shadowed under the brim of his cattleman.

Your tongue writhed behind your teeth, heart thumping in your throat; as he tilted your head up and to the side. He used his other thumb to wipe your bottom lip, pointedly slowly, from the corner to the centre.

“You’re a little thief,” he gritted, dropping your head and peering at the red smear of juice on the pad of his thumb. “Aren’t you.”

Were you scared of him? It was hard to distinguish your fluttering heartrate between terror and thrill – perhaps a touch of both. Because you didn’t know him. You couldn’t trust him. You had no basis to assume he wouldn’t club you with a closed fist and throw you in the back of his pickup. But you felt the tingle his touch left behind on your lip. You got stuck on his pinched blue eyes, the glare of the sun reflecting off your dress illuminating them like they glowed from within.

“No I’m not,” you muttered, readjusting your dress after he left creases in the low neckline.

“And a liar?” He scoffed, as he grabbed one of your wrists – lifting your hand to reveal the sticky burgundy juice under your fingernails, red drips dried in your palm. “You’re covered in evidence, missy.”

Snatching your hand from him, you crossed your arms in petulance. “It’s not stealing if you don’t use it.”

“The fuck it isn’t,” he snapped, hooking his hands onto his hips. “Now get in the goddamn truck.”

“I can walk home,” you grumbled, “you’re not the boss of me.”

Huffing in anger, he leaned forward – looming over you with a domineering lour. “While you’re trespassing on my property – yes I am.”

Glaring up at him from under your brow, you nibble at the inside of your lip as you pouted at him. “What’re you gonna do if I don’t go with you. Kidnap me?”

He tilted his head, shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve got some rope in the truck,” he gruffly warned, “you gonna make me use it?”

Did you imagine the glint in his eye? Did you make up the lascivious quip in his tone? Whether or not it was dreamt, it plucked a coy smirk in your lips.

He was daring you, wasn’t he? Goading you to challenge him.

So with a glistening smile you reached for his cattleman hat – plucked it from his head, and swiftly placed it on your own. Too big to sit properly, you perched it on the back of your head so that you could still see out from under the brim.

“Hey!” He barked, lunging to snatch it back from you – but you bolted, kicking off your sandals, ducking under his arm and sprinting across the dirt road. Through the field of grass and dry wildflowers, you bounded like a deer. “Fuck’s sake.”

Holding his hat in place, you peeked over your shoulder in your escape, and he was swiftly in pursuit.

“God dammit, girl, you get back here!” He roared – already closing the distance. You hadn’t expected a man as bulky as him to sprint as fast as he was, charging after you like a grizzly.

You only giggled, leaping over fallen logs and stray planks of wood, weaving between the tall white oaks that littered his prairies.

“If you get so much as a dent in that hat I’ll fuckin’–”

“You’ll what?” You squealed through a grin, holding the skirt of your short dress in a fist against your hips, to allow your legs to sprint in full stride.

You heard him grunt, close to a growl, as he encroached on you. “You’ll be in big fuckin’ trouble!”

Breathless, panting, you failed to think of any witty response as you dashed towards one of the many stables on his expansive property – this one devoid of horses or livestock, simply a storage building for stacks of haybales and racks of tools. You’d perused it before. He might have found more discarded cherry pits in there.

He was behind you already, as you barrelled through the ajar stable door, stumbling into the centre of the dishevelled space. Illuminated only by the cracks of glowing sunlight that broke through gaps in the plywood boards, you stood amongst dust and scattered hay. You turned and faced the entrance, watching in anticipation as he steamed in after you.

Face burning red in fury and exasperation, he jabbed two angry fingers in your direction. “Give me the hat,” he ordered, throaty and severely – no longer joking.

But stubborn as you were, overly enjoying the needless chase, you were not going to capitulate that easily. You stood poised to dash, and with hunched shoulders, he prepared to hound after you.

“I like it,” you puffed, exhilarated, purposefully impudent. You pinched the brim, pulling it down with a disingenuous hat-tip. “It probably looks better on me.”

“Even if it does,” he chided through teeth, out of breath, “it’s not yours.”

You snickered girlishly, pursing your lips. “Maybe it should be.”

“Give it to me.” He thundered, hand outstretched, your heart flipped in your ribs at the sudden eruption of stern rage.

So you spun on the ball of your bare foot, before flitting hastily towards the rickety ladder that led up to the hayloft. Clambering up it like a spider, the old wood and rusted nails squealed in dispute of being used for likely the first time in decades.

But he was blindingly rapid in his chase, and before you made it even halfway up the ladder, his heaving forearm scooped around your waist, hooking you by the stomach.

“C’mere,” he growled through a clenched jaw, as he peeled you from the ladder; hoisting you like a small animal, holding your back to his chest with a constricting arm, leaving your feet dangling high off the ground.

You writhed and kicked, bucking like a goat, still holding his hat tightly to your head to prevent him from snatching it back from you. “Let go of me!” You squeaked, still giggling.

“No,” he snarled, “I’m taking my fuckin’ hat back, and then I’m taking you back to your daddy so he can knock some goddamn sense into you.”

You whinged, clutching his thick forearm in an effort to loosen his grip; nails digging into his bronzed and hairy skin, corded with veins bulged from the exertion of keeping you contained. His body burned like a furnace, pectorals stiffening underneath you as he flexed them, while he hauled you towards the exit.

“It’s just a hat,” you whined, “you’ve probably got heaps of them.”

Your obstinance was aimless – no particular interest in the hat, and no true understanding of why you fought so desperately to keep it. Maybe you just wanted to see how far you could push him. Wanted to see what would happen.

“It was my father’s,” he griped, anger approaching a boiling point as you continued to squirm around in his grip.

You groaned in dispute, still holding the leather cattleman tightly to your head. “Well he won’t be needing it, will he?”

That was a step over the line.

You knew it immediately, quick to bite your tongue after the words spat from your lips.

And his retaliation was sudden and severe; dragging you closer to the exit, he tossed you unceremoniously, almost tumbling down with you into the pile of block-shaped haybales that sat by the stable door. You landed face-down against the bale, winded, a squeak jumping from your chest with the impact; and his hat toppled from your head, rolling out of reach.

He kneeled beside you, with his forearm weighing against your lower back - you were flustered and confused by his haste. Skirt hitched up by the fall, he suddenly swung his free hand down with an open palm, smacking against the bare skin of your ass with a thunderous whack.

“Ah!” You squealed, a shriek, followed quickly by a breathless whine that slipped from your lungs outside of your control. The explosive clap rang in your ears, echoing within the bowels of the stables, loud and shrill. And the sting was sharp, hot and prickling like a brand, no doubt the raised outline of his hand was quick to form in your shivering skin.

A silence followed, pregnant and heavy, and you dared not move nor breathe too loudly – you inhaled and exhaled with trembling breaths, lips parted and wet, eyes wide as you stared into the packed hay.

He was dead quiet, too. Panting throatily, he kept you in place; grip of you not easing, though he stayed utterly still. You thought he might apologise, might express some remorse, might beg for you not to tell your father what he did. But he was silent. Like he had even surprised himself.

You tilted your head slowly, peering at him doe-eyed over your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” you whimpered, close to a whisper, dripping with pleading humiliation.

“For what?” He growled; his glower potently intimidating, a glimmer of voracity in his shadowy eyes, strained like he was suppressing greater hunger.

With a whine you turned your head back, facing ahead into the shack wall, you spoke quietly and nervously. “For taking your hat.”

Followed another swing of his arm, wide hand colliding with your rear in another deafening crack, forcing a laboured squeak from your chest. But there was something more than pain in your throat, wasn’t there? A whisper of thrill, a yelp of delight in your subsequent gasp.

And he must have heard it, took it as encouragement; as you felt the hand of his arm that pinned you down curl into a fist, balling the fabric of your dress tightly in his palm – lifting up the hem even further, you felt the cool air of the stable bite at your stinging skin as your ass was entirely exposed.

“Yeah?” He rumbled, gritting teeth, huffing like a beast. “What else?”

#bet his handprint is the size of a dinner plate #john price #call of duty fanfic #john price x reader #john price x female reader #captain john price #cod fanfic #john price x you #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price smut

2K notes · View notes

sturniolohouse · 1 month

Text

Anniversary in the Cape - M.S

A/N: hey so, i feel CRAZY after writing this. this is truly an example of the duality of my writing... also, i'm sorry if there's any typos, i've proofread a ton and even stuck this bitch in grammarly but i could have missed something. she's looonnnng, so get some wine (if legal) and some popcorn and enjoy!!!!!! ALSO, ALSO, minors!!! DNI!!!! pls and thank you. :)

summary: matt and reader take their relationship to the next level, going on an overdue vacation to the cape for their anniversary.

warnings: cursing, smut (unprotected do not recommend), spanking, choking, matt being hot, uhhh idk

word count: 5.8k

song: stargazing - the neighborhood

'started with a spark, now we're on fire'

"And you're sure your parents were okay with us using the car and the house?" I ask looking at him focus on the road in front of him.

"Yes, baby. For the one-hundredth time, they don't mind. Quit worrying, this is our vacation," He looks at me quickly, taking a hand off the wheel to meet my thigh and squeeze it lightly.

"I know, I'm just nervous," I admit softly and he turns to me with wide playful eyes.

"Nervous! Why the hell are you nervous?" He laughs in bewilderment, and I roll my eyes, shrugging slightly.

"I mean, obviously we've been alone before, but we've never been away just the two of us," I explain.

"Yeah, and I'm fucking ecstatic about it. Like you said, no interruptions, quiet house, on the cape...possibilities are endless." He says looking at me with a small suggestive smile growing on his face.

Of course, Matt and I get alone time. Do we get as much as we would like? No.

It's difficult finding time for ourselves when Matt lives with his brothers and my roommates are hermits.

Which I never saw as an issue, because I honestly don't mind spending time with Chris and Nick whenever I'm by their place–which is often. I was actually friends with all of them way before Matt and I began dating.

But when Matt brought up the last time we had gone on a real date, it had been months.

"No, I know. I'm excited too, it's just a new step in our relationship and it feels very...adult? I don't know, I sound silly," I shake my head and he squeezes my thigh again before grabbing my hand.

"Hey, I know what you mean, and you don't sound silly." He softens a bit to reassure me before kissing the back of my hand. My heart warms at his gesture and I squeeze his hand.

"I'm excited to show you one of my favorite places, I still can't believe you've never been. I literally grew up here." He changes the subject as he switches lanes and I see the sign indicating Cape Cod is less than a mile away.

We flew into Boston by ourselves yesterday afternoon and spent the night at his parent's house. It was Matt's idea, saying he didn't mind taking the drive as it wasn't too far from his house in Somerville.

"Are you finally going to tell me what we're doing?" I rub circles into the back of his hand with my thumb.

His mouth quirks to one side pensively but he laughs as soon as he hears me sigh impatiently.

"Okay, okay, you really wanna know?" He drawls out, turning to glance at me for a moment then turning back to the road.

"You know I wanna know," I lean over the divider and stare into the side of his face. He smirks a bit, side-eyeing me a few times before humming.

"Hmm, I think I'll leave you squirming a little longer," He says after a moment.

He exits the highway and I huff, slumping back into my seat.

This place looks like something straight out of a storybook.

The green, hilly scenery takes my breath away. Matt shows me the main street, driving past the historic houses and buildings as families and couples walk down the street. When we round the bend, the dense trees become few and far between and the lush green landscape dissolves into tall grass, sand, and rock as the ocean comes into view.

We drive along the coast the rest of the way and I just stare in awe at the cozy beach town as Matt tells stories of growing up here in the summer.

"That house at the end is the family house," He points to the one on the left.

Pulling into the driveway, Matt puts the car in park before cutting the engine. I go to open my door but he stops me, putting a finger up and getting out of the car himself.

I give him a questioning look before I see him jog to the other side of the car to open my door for me.

"And they say chivalry is dead," I shake my head jokingly and he shrugs with a smirk.

I get out of the car and lean up to give him a quick kiss, we're smiley and giddy when we pull apart. He gives me another kiss before handing me a key.

"Go head inside, I'll grab our bags," He says softly against my lips and I nod quickly.

As I walk past him to make my way to the front door, I feel a light slap to my ass. I go to give him a playful disapproving look, but he's already opening the trunk to grab our stuff and acting like nothing happened.

The house is small and charming.

It belongs to their grandparents and has been the family vacation home for decades. The colorful wind chimes on the front porch sing with the soft breeze. I breathe in the salty air and walk towards the steps leading to the front door.

I twist the key to open the door and I'm engulfed with a warm, inviting scent. There are tons of family pictures on the walls and my heart swells at the baby pictures of the triplets.

I can easily spot Matt in a picture of the three of them on the beach, probably around four or five years old.

Seeing photos of them as children always blows my mind because of how identical they looked.

Matt comes in with our bags, noticing me looking at the photos on the wall.

"You were so fucking cute as a kid," I say going to grab my duffel from him but he takes my hand instead, leading me down the hall to the bedroom.

"Am I not cute now?" He pretends to be offended.

"Eh," I joke back and he opens the door at the end of the hall.

"This is our bedroom, the bathroom is next door on the left," He nods behind us toward the hall.

The bedroom is a pale seafoam green color, the bed adorned with a vintage patchwork quilt lined with a ruffle trim. The room has more family photos hung on the walls and beach-themed decor.

"We can unpack now and then head to the store to grab something for dinner and the next few days. There's definitely no food here. Sound good?" He places our bags on the bed and turns to me, placing his hands on his hips.

He wears a backward camo Boston Red Sox hat, a black tee with a silver chain around his neck, jean shorts, and white New Balance sneakers.

I must have been ogling him for too long because he snaps his fingers in front of my face with a smug expression.

"D'ya hear me, kid, or are you too busy eye-fucking me?" He smiles, licking his lips, and I feel a deep blush bloom from my chest up to my neck.

"Not my fault my boyfriend is so hot," I shrug, trying to recover from his playful callout, and he rolls his eyes, blushing himself.

He shakes his head, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and pulling me into his chest. I wrap my arms around his middle, placing my head over his heart as we settle into a moment of comfortable silence.

An intrusive thought takes over, and I squeeze him tighter against me. I hear him groan at the sudden pressure of my grip, and he grabs hold of my arms.

"Okay, okay. Enough with the cuteness-aggression. You're going to break my ribs, kid," He wheezes.

I let up only after he tickles my sides. I squeal as he chases me to the other side of the bed and I finally surrender and ask for mercy. He slaps my ass and tells me I'll pay for it later.

We unpack our stuff and head out to the store to get ingredients for tacos. The one and only thing I've tried to improve in Matt is his cooking skills.

When we first got together, it was concerning how little he knew about cooking along with the number of times a week he'd eat out. I changed that real fast, teaching him basic meals he could make himself that were quick and pretty foolproof. Tacos were one of them.

"Go shower, I'll start dinner." He tells me, putting all of the groceries on the counter.

"You sure you can handle it?" I tease, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Hey, I've gotten better. Didn't you like the salmon I made you the other week?" He points his finger at me and I roll my eyes.

"Yes, my love, I was very proud of you." I lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth, "I'll be quick," I say before going to take my long-awaited shower.

As the hot water cascades over my shoulders, I can't help but let my thoughts drift. This trip is a huge step for us, and despite my nerves, I know it was a much-needed and deserved trip.

We don't really have an anniversary only because we both don't remember the specific date and we never made our being official a big deal. It's never been our style.

But we decided this would be a getaway for our 'anniversary' as next month will be our second summer together.

I finish up and wrap myself in a towel, savoring the lingering warmth before I quickly get dressed. I smell the scent of sizzling meat and spices coming from the kitchen.

When I reach the kitchen, I can't help but smile at the sight of Matt carefully chopping lettuce. His brows furrowed and his tongue poked out in serious concentration.

"Smells amazing in here," I comment, leaning against the doorway.

Matt looks up startled a bit, dropping the knife and putting a hand over his heart. A proud grin quickly spreads across his face when he realizes it's just me.

"You fuckin' scared me. I'm almost done, just need to heat up the tortillas." He gestures for me to come over, and I do, wrapping my arms around his waist from behind.

"You're getting good at this," I compliment, kissing his shoulder as he flips the tortillas.

"Only because I have a great teacher," he replies, turning his head to kiss my cheek.

I help set the table while Matt finishes up. We sit down to eat, the atmosphere cozy and intimate. The tacos are actually delicious, and I make sure to shower Matt with compliments for his efforts. We pop open the sparkling apple cider Mary-Lou and Jimmy gave as a parting gift to us. Digging through the cupboards, we end up finding old plastic flutes to make a quick toast with.

"Here's to us, thank you for making each day brighter. To many more days with you, I love you very much," I say simply, raising my glass. He gets shy and smiley but clinks our glasses.

I can't help but smile at him as he blushes and tries to hide it. I lean in for a kiss and he immediately gives me one.

"I love you more," He whispers against me, pulling me onto his lap and giving me a deeper kiss. "I would say something too, but I don't want to sound stupid,"

"Hush, I already know you're madly in love with me. You made me bomb ass tacos," I joke, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and pulling him into my chest. He giggles and kisses my collarbone.

After dinner, we go to the backyard to watch what's left of the sunset. We put a lawn chair by the water and sit together watching the orange horizon disappear behind the shoreline. The hues of blues and purples melt together in the sky until it grows darker and the moonlight casts a silvery glow on the water.

The sound of the waves is soothing, our breathing in sync as I sit in his lap, his hand drumming lightly on my hip.

"This will continue to be my favorite place, I'm glad I get to share it with you." Matt says, his voice soft and contemplative.

"Thank you for sharing it with me," I reply, squeezing his hand. "I'm really happy we came."

"Me too." He turns to face me, his blue eyes reflecting the moonlight. He goes deep in thought for a moment and he almost goes to say something but stops himself.

I give him a questioning look and nudge him lightly.

"What was that?" I ask gently and he shakes his head.

"Nothing," He tries to brush it off but I grab his chin and turn his face toward me.

"Didn't seem like it," I play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"I don't wanna freak you out," he says lowly and I give him a pressing look before he sighs deeply, finally giving in.

"I was just imagining our future. I can just see us, you know, bringing our kids here in the summers. They'd grow up with memories of this place like I do," he admits, staring directly at the water as he confesses his inner thoughts.

My heart tightens with emotion at his statement.

"You think about stuff like that?" My voice cracks, tears stinging my eyes and he immediately snaps his head to look at me.

"Hey, why are you crying?" He looks worried, cupping my cheek and using his thumb to catch a tear falling.

"Of course, I think of 'stuff like that' though. Does that scare you?" His voice laced with uncertainty and I shake my head immediately at his foolish question.

"No, no," I say softly, running my hand through his hair tenderly, then tracing his face. Starting from his left eyebrow, down his cheekbone, and over the scruff on his jaw.

His eyes flutter at my soft touch and he grabs my hand, bringing it to his mouth to kiss my knuckles.

"It's actually really sweet, Matt. I didn't think you'd want things like that with me, a family..." I admit and his eyes widen at my foolishness.

"Sweetheart, I hope you know you're it for me. Pretty sure if you ever decide one day you're sick of me, I'll spend the rest of my fucking life alone." He tells me openly and I blubber at his sweet words that pierce my heart more.

"Stop crying," He laughs lightly, getting slightly nervous by my reaction but I try to compose myself.

"You wanna have babies with me," I squeak, crying more and he tosses his head back in laughter as I continue to be a mess.

"Yes, I want 'babies' with you. If you want babies," He smiles, continuing to wipe my tears. "Okay, I love you, but you have snot all over your face," he says motioning all over his face with his finger and I gasp covering my nose.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Now, no more tears" He says and I roll my eyes, hitting his shoulder lightly, laughing a little bit now.

"They're happy tears. I just love you, a lot. It's overwhelming sometimes," I bury my face into his neck and he rubs my back soothingly as I actually compose myself.

I must be severely PMS-ing because I'm never this emotional.

"I know what you mean," He says, my heart swelling once more. "It scares me how much I love you." He kisses my hair but I lift my head for a real one.

We share a tender kiss, the ocean breeze wrapping around us like a comforting embrace.

"I can see it too by the way. Having a family. But way, way in the future," I say when I pull away, fixing the hair on his forehead.

"Oh, yeah for sure. Although, shit happens, who knows." He shrugs and I raise my eyebrow.

"Well, thanks to modern science and my IUD, no kids for at least ten years," I say and his eyes widen a bit.

"Okay, ten years is kinda a long time..." He trails off, catching me off guard.

"Matt!" I say in shock.

"I'm kidding!" He laughs.

. ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ˖

Matt walks into the room after brushing his teeth just as I'm taking the throw pillows off the bed and pulling back the duvet.

I feel his arms wrap around me from behind and his face buries into my neck. He places open-mouth kisses on the curve of my neck, making his way up to my ear, where he grazes his teeth lightly.

I sigh, shuddering at the sensation and allowing my head to fall back against his shoulder.

He puts both hands on my hips this time, pulling my backside into his crotch. I moan at the feeling of him already hardening against me and I press my legs together in anticipation.

"I like this, no one around to interrupt...just us," His voice is velvet and I melt into his hold.

I hum, "Yeah, it's nice," My voice is airy.

"Can be as loud as we want, too..." He chuckles lowly, as I feel one of his hands sneak beneath my sleep shirt.

His fingertips delicately dance up my stomach, barely even touching my skin. Leaving goosebumps in their wake, yearning for his touch.

His hand stops right below my breast and I whine when he doesn't touch me further. I arch hoping to make more contact with his hand, but he doesn't give it to me.

"Matt," I say almost as a whisper, a plea.

"Mm," He hums, returning to kissing my neck. I can hear and feel the smug grin on his face, he knows what game he's playing.

"Touch me," I whine, arching again and lifting myself to reach his hand.

He finally cups my breast, taking my nipple in between his fingers and I gasp as he tugs and pinches gently.

He sucks on my ear lightly, giving it a kitten lick before blowing cold air. I spin around in his hold, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck and pulling him into me.

The kiss was explosive, and we both let out a breath we didn’t realize we were holding.

He wraps his arms around me, pulling our hips flush together and leaning into the kiss more, forcing me to bend back.

In the heat of the moment, we stumble back onto the bed behind us clumsily, my butt slipping off the edge of the bed. I yelp when I almost fall, and laugh into the kiss. Our teeth clink together momentarily as he chuckles too.

He grabs under my thighs, lifting me further onto the bed as I make room for him to settle between them.

"That's better," He breathes out before kissing me again, laying me down on the cool linen sheets.

I revel in the feeling of his weight on top of me, our hips perfectly puzzled together, my hands running through his soft hair, while his rest on my hips.

I tug at the roots of his hair to elicit a delicious sound from him, something primal and guttural.

He squeezes my hips and pulls back to look down at me with half-lidded eyes. His pupils are so blown out you can barely make out the icy blue of his irises.

He keeps eye contact with me as he makes his way lower, lifting my sleep shirt above my breasts. My nipples pebble and harden as they're exposed to the cool air. He places wet kisses down my sternum, then my stomach until he reaches right above my cotton underwear.

He kneels on the floor so he's perfectly aligned in front of my core, his fingers play with the band of my underwear and he smiles to himself shaking his head.

I lean up on my elbows, "What?" I can't help but smile back.

"Kittens?" He raises his eyebrows and smirks at me.

I shrug, not ashamed in the slightest at the pattern of my underwear.

"Yeah, you like 'em?" I deadpan, but break into a grin when he tips his head back and laughs.

Endearingly, of course.

"Very sexy," he replies, and I shriek as he yanks me to the very edge of the bed.

He slips his fingers into the hem of my underwear, finally pulling them down my legs and discarding them. He lightly slaps the inside of my thigh before prying them apart and pinning them.

Just as quick as we're joking about my underwear, I'm back to trembling under his touch.

Completely exposed to him now, he teases me, kissing my inner thighs and nipping at the sensitive skin.

My hips buck at the gentle assault but he keeps me in place, stunting my movements.

"Patience..." he chides and I roll my eyes.

He slaps my thigh a little harder this time and I hiss, my core pulsing at the act. He licks a stripe on each crease of my thigh, purposely ignoring my aching cunt.

His thumbs spread my lips apart before he collects my arousal using it to circle my clit. I whimper at the contact, stopping myself from bucking my hips again.

Matt's in a trance, mouth agape, eyes heavy, as he continues to tease me and I become more and more restless.

Almost as if he couldn't contain himself any longer, he finally buries his head between my thighs. He hungrily licks from my entrance up to my clit, before sucking on my swollen nub like I'm a honeysuckle.

"Fuck," I gasp under my breath, squirming under his grip. My breath shallowed and my heart stuttered.

"I told you, we could be as loud as we want," He slurs against me, flattening his tongue against me and shaking his head side to side quickly.

I let go of a whine before snapping my legs around his head, overwhelmed by pleasure. He growls, immediately prying them back open and relentlessly swirling his tongue against me.

I grab a hold of the hair at the crown of his head as he continues to drink me in. Skillfully lapping every inch of my folds, knowing exactly what to do to get me wound up in merely minutes.

I feel the build-up of my first orgasm, all my muscles going taut as I begin to shake uncontrollably.

Matt knows that I'm about to come, so he pulls his mouth away and replaces it with his fingers. He slips his ring and middle fingers inside me with ease, massaging my front wall and coaxing my orgasm out of me with each gentle drag.

"Oh my fucking god," I cry out, my hips moving with his fingers.

He stands above me now, swiping my hair away from my face and gently caressing my cheekbone. I grab onto his bicep beside me as he leans down to kiss me, swallowing my whimpers.

"C'mon, baby. I can feel you squeezing the fuck outta my fingers. Come for me," His voice is a gentle command against my jaw.

His mouth attaches to my nipple as his thumb smushes into my puffy clit, drawing lazy circles, stimulating me everywhere.

That's all it takes before the wave peaks, then crashes and floods of icy-hot, blinding pleasure courses through me. He moans against me as he feels me pulse and ooze around his fingers.

My nails dig into his bicep and I arch into him, my hips mindlessly riding out the pleasure as his name falls from my lips in a desperate, broken cry.

His mouth and fingers gently work me through the aftershocks before I'm grabbing his wrist and whining from the sensitivity.

"You're so fucking hot," He breathes, kissing me again.

I exhale into him, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him down onto me.

He pulls back, tossing his shirt off his head and undoing his belt, looking down at me as I lay half-naked and panting. I lean up on my elbows and move myself further up the bed.

He's only in his black boxers now, placing a knee on the bed before crawling towards me.

"Wanna taste you," I say, reaching up to kiss his neck and he lets out a shaky breath.

He shakes his head, "I won't fucking make it," he pants, grabbing my jaw and claiming my mouth again.

He pulls back, "As much as I love this fucking mouth," He adds darkly, tracing my swollen lips before licking them sensually and kissing me deeper.

I moan at the kiss and the feel of his cold rings against my hot skin. I run my hands down his chest as our breathing picks up, the kiss becoming more heated.

I run my tongue along his bottom lip and he allows me in before moving his hand down from my jaw to my neck, squeezing gently.

I pull back this time to take my shirt off, leaving me completely bare in front of him. I then hook my fingers in the band of his boxers and pull them down just enough to free him. His dick springs up, the tip so red it looks painful.

I spit into my hand before taking him into my hand and giving him a couple of strokes, swiping his weeping tip with my thumb. He whimpers at the touch before grabbing my wrist and making me release him.

I pout, bringing my thumb to my mouth to suck off his precum. His mouth falls agape at the sight, and his eyes screw shut as he falls onto one of his hands weakly.

"What's wrong?" I make sure my voice is dripping like sweet, gooey honey. Tempting a very hungry grizzly bear.

He grits his teeth, straightening himself back up on his knees in front of me. I look up at him, my hand rubbing up and down his thigh.

"You're going to be the death of me," His voice is gritty, and I tilt my head innocently. I yelp when he grabs my hips and flips me over.

It's moments like these that remind me of his surprising strength.

He pulls me onto my knees so my cheek is pressed into the mattress and my ass is elevated, leaving me exposed and shaking with anticipation.

His hand comes down onto my asscheek and I hiss at the sting. I feel his dick poke the back of my thigh as his hand smooths over my ass to ease the burn.

"Matt, please," I pant when he kisses down my spine and I push my hips back impatiently.

"Need my cock that bad, hm?" he murmurs against my skin and I nod quickly.

"Need you inside me, please," I whine, not caring how desperate I sound, only focused on how his low chuckle makes my core pulse around nothing.

"Yeah?" He croons and my breath hitches when I feel him run his tip along my aching pussy. Knocking against my clit with each teasing stroke.

"Yes-" I whimper and then gasp when I feel the familiar, delicious stretch of him.

I grip the sheets as he grips my hips harshly, slowly entering me.

"Fuuuck," He strains out, and I can picture the vein in his neck protruding, wishing I could lick it.

He fills me completely, his hips flush against my ass. I whimper as I feel him buried deep inside me, hitting a sensitive spot that turns my legs into jelly.

He begins guiding me in a gentle rhythm, slow and deliberate, determined to make this last. His thrusts are deep, intentionally angling down to hit the spot that he knows makes me see stars.

"You feel so fucking good, so deep," I praise him and he slightly picks up the pace.

My core tightens around him involuntarily and he hisses, his grip on my hip becoming almost painfully tight.

"Fuck, don't do that. I'll come too fast," He pulls back slightly, trying to steady himself.

"I don't care," I push back against him again, just wanting to feel him.

He curses under his breath, his hands firm on my hips to stop my movements. He pulls me up by my hair, my back against his chest now and I laugh maniacally before moaning at the fresh angle.

"Must you always be so defiant?" His breath is hot against my ear and I can't help the grin on my face. I love getting him riled up.

"I like it when you push me around," I admit, my voice dripping with playful challenge.

He releases his grip on my hair, and I catch myself on my hands, bracing for whatever comes next.

"Yeah? You like it when I'm rough?" He presses, his voice low and taunting.

"Mhm," I hum pressing my hips back again but he pulls out, leaving me feeling empty.

I go to whine in protest but I'm shut up with the hardest slap of the night, right on top of the red mark he left before.

I cry out and bury my face into the sheets again, but quiver with longing for more.

"That's what you wanted, right?" He continues to taunt and spanks me again but this time, on the other side.

I moan and go to rub my clit for some sort of relief but he grabs both my wrists, knocking me down further.

Another smack. I groan this time in frustration.

He gathers my wrists in one hand as I feel him lean over me. His hand sneaks around to find my neck as he presses his mouth against my ear.

"Are you just that fucking desperate?" He queries, his fingers pressing into my pulse points, just enough for my head to lighten.

"Please, Matt." I plea, but don't exactly know what I'm pleading for.

"What's the matter, baby, you can't handle it anymore? Thought you liked me pushing you around," He tuts.

His free hand lifts my hips before he teases my entrance with his tip and I let out a shaky breath.

"Hm? Nothing to say?" He pushes his tip in but pulls back and I whine at the teasing.

He releases my neck to brush my hair away so he can see the side of my face. A reminder that he's still the caring Matt I love.

"Just fuck me, please," I beg and he sighs deeply.

"You're so fucking lucky I love you,” he says through his teeth before he drives into me again in one swift motion.

Both of us moan in relief, the tension finally being broken.

He grinds his hips down into me teasingly and my eyes roll back at the intense, tight angle.

I feel his body heat leave my back as he straightens out behind me. Placing his hands on my lower back, he leans forward causing my back to arch before slamming into me. Again and again and again.

Each breath is knocked out of me, and each blow is deeper than the last, discovering a new spot inside of me and pushing me closer and closer to the edge. His pace quickens with every approving sound I make, answering me with his own moans of approval.

He turns me onto my back, staying inside me, wrapping my leg around his waist before leaning forward to kiss me slowly.

"Mm, missed your face," he admits softly, his thrusts starting off slow but steadily increasing momentum. "Wanna see that pretty face when I make you come," he coos, and I shriek at a particularly hard thrust that sends me further up the bed.

He watches my face the entire time, studying every furrow, every eye roll, mirroring my expressions as if he can feel everything he is doing to me.

I can tell he's trying to distract himself, to last longer, slowing down to kiss me and then picking up the pace.

My second orgasm build-up is slower and more subtle. It almost comes out of nowhere, but he knows my body so well. He reaches down to stimulate my clit, deepening his strokes, driving me to the brink.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh-" My back arches, and my ears ring as my orgasm rips me apart.

"Good girl, fucking come for me–oh fuck. I'm coming–I'm gonna come. W-where do you want me to-" He rushes out, as my pussy continues to spasm around him.

Through my haze, I push my heels into his hips and grab the back of his neck.

"I-inside, come inside me," I pant and he shudders, whimpering.

"Oh my–fucking, fuck," He strains as he comes and I moan at the feeling of him filling me up.

He pushes as deep as he can inside me, and the aftershocks of my orgasm milk him further causing him to hiss.

He collapses into my collarbone, his hair drenched in sweat as he takes a moment to regain strength.

I place a hand in his hair and scratch his back lightly as we settle into a steady breathing rhythm.

"Holy fuck," he says eventually into my neck, laughing a little and I giggle too.

"Wait, wait don't laugh-" He pulls away with his face scrunched and I realize he's still inside me.

He hisses again in sensitivity, looking down at where we're connected before pulling out of me carefully. I whimper at the feeling and he softly apologizes.

I feel his come leak out of me and I watch his expression falter for a second as he notices the sight.

"Fuck me," he says under his breath, shaking his head and I bite my lip to stop myself from giggling.

I slowly reach my hand down to play with myself and his eyes widen as he quickly grabs my hand to stop me.

"Are you trying to kill me tonight? No, I'm cleaning you up and we're going to bed. Stay right there, don't fucking move." He gets up, pointing at me as he walks away.

I cover my mouth and laugh at his reaction. He comes back with a wet washcloth, using it to wipe me carefully.

He huffs out again, shaking his head and I give him a knowing look.

"Devil woman, don't look at me like that." He tries to sound stern, but his voice cracks with nerves.

"I love you," I tell him, meaning it. His eyes soften and he leans over me, a hand on either side of my head. He scans my face, a soft smile carves into his face before he leans down to kiss me.

"We really need our own place," he says when he pulls back and my stomach flips.

"What was that?" I ask him with wide eyes.

"I said we really need a shower, c'mon," He lies, laughing as he tries to pull me up but I'm tugging him back towards me.

'Hey, get back here. That's not what you said," I laugh at his antics but he runs away towards the bathroom before I hear him call back.

"I plead the fifth!"

#matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #sturniolohouse #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut

773 notes · View notes

msgexymunson · 9 months

Text

The Code

Description: Your very first day at your new school and you've already managed to find a dealer. Not only that, but he is fine. Maybe living with your mom might not be too bad after all.

Warnings: Making out, fingering, male and fem oral receiving, p in v unprotected sex

A/N: I just wanted some desperate, clingy ‘I need you’ sex so here we are. I loved writing this so much I think this is going to end up in a whole universe just about these two.

6.2k words

Masterlist

This must be the spot.

You walk out into the little clearing in the woods. It's private, encircled by trees, with a picnic bench right in the middle. As you wonder who the hell put it there, you take in the quiet. It's bizarre; a minute ago you were surrounded by loudmouth jocks and giggling girls, sneakers squeaking and lockers slamming, but here? Silence, except for the twittering of birds and whispering wind in the trees.

Perching on the slightly mildewed table top, you dump your bag and jacket on the seat, crossing your legs and picking your fingernails to pass the time.

A rustle of leaves makes you snap your head up, and you see who must be the most gorgeous guy at this school. Tall, long hair, a narrow little waist you want to wrap your legs around, and judging by his clothes, he's a metalhead too.

“Hey, you leave me a note?”

He looks around nervously, circling the table before walking over to you.

“Yeah, you OK?”

He smiles, and you rethink your previous statement. He must be the most gorgeous guy in this whole town. Such a pretty mouth.

“Sorry, it's just last time I got an anonymous note in my locker I got jumped by four jocks.”

“Oh, well you know what they say, when a boy bullies you they really just have a crush on you.”

He laughs, tipping his head back.

“Well these guys must want my fuckin’ babies or some shit!”

Giggling, you look down, covering your mouth girlishly. Eddie takes the small opportunity to check you out. You look like you've wandered in from a dream. A very wet dream. Little black Mary Janes on your feet, thigh high white socks, and a black and white plaid skirt. The strip of thigh on show is making his pants tighter by the minute. The white t-shirt is a work of art; it seems so innocent, but it's tight enough to accentuate your obvious curves, and the outline of a black bra is peeking through the thin material. He's sure it's purposeful; who wears black under white and doesn't think about it showing?

You clear your throat and his eyes flick upward to your face guiltily. Not saying anything, you let your little smug smile and raised brow do the talking for you. This looks like it's going to be a lot of fun.

After a few seconds of letting him squirm, mostly to see the blush flowing to his cheeks, you give him your name and explain.

“I'm new here, some girl told me you're the one to go to for weed. Eddie, right?”

“Guilty as charged,” he replies, bowing at you. Rolling your eyes, you beckon him forward with one finger. His grin widens as he stands right in front of you, eyes darting to your lips and back up.

“So, you got something for me?”

Eddie plants his hands either side of you on the table, close enough to smell your perfume. It's heady, laden with spice and promise, not the sweet scent he expected. That just intrigues him even more.

Your heads spinning from him crowding your space. His eyes are otherworldly, deep brown, full of such depth and soul that it takes a moment for you to remember to breathe.

“For you? Of course.”

He winks, he fucking winks, sending a swarm of insects in a whirlwind in your stomach, then sits down at the bench, slamming a battered tin lunchbox down. He gestures at the seat in front but you swivel on the table to face him, legs crossed an inch or so away from his hand.

“So, I'll do you a half ounce for… twenty. Cool?”

He wags a baggy at you and you make a pass for it, but he holds it at arm's length.

“Twenty?”

Huffing dramatically, you lean far back to grab your bag from the opposite bench. Eddie holds an arm out, one thrown over his eyes.

“Cover your, er, modesty sweetheart.”

You realise he means your skirt that had ridden high on your thighs, exposing a triangle of your panties. It was only for a moment, but he saw. He thinks it'll be ingrained on the inside of his eyelids, burned into the back of his brain forever. They're baby pink, yet another surprise. You seem to be full of them.

“Such a gentleman.”

Plopping your bag in your lap, you rummage through it to find a note. Eddie's eyes widen yet again. Your little denim backpack is covered in patches; Megadeath, Anthrax, Saxon. Just when he thinks he's got you figured out, you throw another curveball at him.

“Here, twenty.”

He takes it and exchanges it for the bag in his hands. Squirrelling it away, you smile.

“Thank you. Fancy a smoke?”

“Sure, why not.”

You move to get your newest purchase out again but he waves a hand.

“This one's on me sweetheart. For the er, pleasure of your company.”

“Well, aren't I lucky.” Smirking at him, revelling in the pink tinge on the apples of his cheeks, you watch whilst he rolls.

“So, you're new? When did you start?”

“Today. Moving in with my mom and my brother for a little while whilst my dad cools off.”

“Oh yeah?” He smiles, licking the paper with a pointed precise tongue.

“Yeah. I got suspended, he freaked. Mom wanted her little girl back, so here I am.”

“Oh really? What did you do?”

You bite your lip as he passes you the lit joint, and take a couple of hits.

“What didn't I do?”

He laughs loudly with you, eyes darting to your chest as it jiggles. Fuck, he's already down bad.

You make some chit chat, surface level stuff, but it shows you just how easy he is to talk to. He's confident, bordering cocky, but it's belied by the way your flirtatious comments make him blush.

The joint is long gone. Eddie stands up, getting ready to leave. You want him to stay, you need him to, just a little longer. It emboldens you, enough to make a move.

“Eddie, what's your policy on kissing clients?”

He's mid standing when your question gets through to his brain, entirely short circuiting it for a second.

“Huh?”

“I said,” you beckon, and Eddie's legs move on their own accord, “what's your policy on kissing clients?”

He's grinning then, standing in front of you by the edge of the table. As you uncross your legs, his smile only widens, slotting his narrow hips between your thighs. You take one of his hands in yours, examining his rings, before you place it gently on your leg, silently giving him permission to touch you.

Eddie feels dazed, half expecting someone to jump from the bushes with a camera, declaring this all some elaborate prank. The bare skin of your thigh is so soft, silky smooth. His fingers dance just underneath the hem of your skirt, testing the waters, but you let him. You let him.

“My policy? It probably goes against the Holy drug dealers code.” He shakes his head sadly, but he's still smiling, and still not pulling away.

“Drug dealer code? What like, don't get high on your own supply?” You respond cheekily, nodding at the butt of the joint stubbed out on the table.

Your hands snake around his neck autonomously, looking up at him through your lashes. He moves infinitesimally closer, head bending a little.

“Yeah, like that. But the thing is,” he says as he moves even closer, whispering, “it's more like… guidelines.”

“Yeah?”

It's all you can manage out, breathy and weak, practically quivering at his closeness.

His nose rubs against the side of yours, mouths almost brushing, as he whispers again, even more quietly, the breath of it diffusing over your parted lips.

“It's a good thing I like to break the rules.”

Then his lips are crushed against yours, your strawberry lip balm surrendering itself, finding a new home on his full lips. Your tongue licks into his mouth thickly, laced with want. Eddie responds, exploring your mouth as the kiss turns dirtier by the second. Your chest is smashed against his, thighs gripping onto his hips.

Eddie's head is reeling at the taste of you and the feel of your body desperately pressed against him. He winds his hand under your skirt to grab your perfect round ass, jamming you even closer. To his delight you moan in his mouth, lips sliding against his, slicked in spit.

Your heart is thumping so loudly you can feel it in your throat. Or is it his? It doesn't matter, the kiss tearing any rational thoughts away. Snaking an arm around him to dig painted nails into his back, you roll your hips into him, an ache settling into your bones.

The other of Eddie's rough hands travels audaciously to your chest, palming it over your clothes. You don't pull away, in fact your back is arching, searching for more.

It's only then that he notices the time on his watch.

Reluctantly, he pulls away, taking in the way your chest heaves, how your eyes are half lidded, as if you want to devour him whole.

“Fuck, I'm sorry but I'm late, I really gotta go.”

Huffing, you pout, and the plumpness of your bottom lip almost makes him say fuck it, screw Hellfire, but he knows he can't.

“I really, really don't want to go, for the record. Last thing I want to do is walk back into school with a hard on right now.”

You giggle breathlessly, risking a little look down. He's not lying. And he is packing.

“Do you wanna come to mine later?”

It's out of your mouth before you even think of the words, tongue working of its own accord.

“Are you- for real?”

You nod comically fast. He just shakes his head, stunned.

“You know, I'm waiting for a Carrie moment or some shit.”

“Eddie, I'm not gonna dump a bucket of pig's blood on you, I swear.”

“Swear? On what?”

“On, I dunno, on that code thing?”

He laughs, hands rubbing up and down your sides as if he doesn't want to let you go.

“You can't swear on that, we just broke it!”

“Alright then, scouts honour?”

“You were a girl scout?”

“No.”

He laughs again as you purse your lips, deep in thought. Suddenly, your eyes widen, and you hold your hand to your heart, the other forming the devil's horn sign.

“I swear on Ozzy.”

Fuck, Eddie thinks he must have made you in a lab.

“Alright, alright, you best not be using his name in vain.”

You rummage in your bag, grabbing a scrap of paper and scrawling an address on it.

“Here. My er, my mom's out for the weekend and my dweeb brothers got some silly club thing then he's staying at a friend's, so…”

Eddie's eyebrows raise and disappear into his hair. If this is just some fantasy and he's finally lost it, then he can deal with that.

“Right, I will be there. I promise. Wild fuckin’ horses couldn't drag me away.”

You scrunch the paper into his waiting hand, and he presses another kiss to your lips, before he's apologising again, having to run back to school before the guys send a search party.

********************

He only gets a chance to look at your hastily written note when Hellfires finished, a hell of a lot quicker than his usual sessions. The guys are put out, complaining about only managing to go for a supply run and deal with some bandits, but for once he doesn't give a shit.

In his van, he's reading and rereading your note. Maybe he's got it wrong, your messy handwriting is difficult to read after all. Or maybe he was right before and this is all some joke at his expense.

Hope is what gets him there, that and the traces of strawberry lip balm that still linger on his lips. He pulls up to the house and knocks on the door.

You answer, still in your clothes from earlier, though Eddie notices immediately that you've taken off your bra. It throws him for a moment, the shape of your nipples singing a melody directly to his dick, but he recovers.

“You live… here?” He asks, completely surprised.

“Yes?” The way he says it you almost question if you're the one in the wrong house.

“And your last name is…?”

“Henderson.”

“Fuck.” He laughs it out, biting his lip.

“Is that a problem?” You're entirely thrown by his reaction, but gesture at him to come in, closing the door behind him.

“Dustin’s your little brother.” He says it like a known fact.

“How do you know Dust for Brains? Wait-”

You step backwards, both hands held to your mouth in shock.

“You're Eddie?? The Eddie??”

“The one and only, sweetheart.”

“Shit, Dustin does not shut up about you. I thought, well I thought you'd be some nerdy, awkward loser.”

“Well, I'm a lot of things.”

Laughs erupt from you in an unstoppable volcano.

“Dustins gonna kill me.”

Eddie shakes his head.

“No, Dustins gonna kill me. How come he's never mentioned you?”

“He's not exactly my biggest fan. Plus, he probably wanted to avoid- this.”

Eddie deflates a little, the hope of kissing you again dwindling by the second.

“If you want me to go-”

“Oh hell no,” you grab his hand, keeping him there with you, “this is hilarious, he's gonna freak. I can't wait. You wanna drink, or something to eat? Or we can just-”

“Wait, you seriously don't care?”

“Nope. You're too hot.”

Eddie blushes, not used to girls being so brazen with him. Smiling, you tell him to take a seat and grab some beers from the fridge. He takes his jacket off and throws it on a chair. When you return, you're laughing yet again as you hand him his beer.

“How the hell did I miss that?” You point. He follows your eyes, to the Hellfire t-shirt he's wearing.

“Too busy staring at my pretty face?” He suggests, winking at you.

Settling down next to him, you flick the TV on to some random b movie. Nonchalantly, you place a hand on his knee, stroking the little bare patch of skin as you look at the film playing.

“Maybe I was too busy thinking about what's underneath it.”

You say it offhand, a casual statement, but it's got Eddie nearly choking on his mouthful of beer.

“Shit you are nothing like your brother, are you?”

Turning to smirk at him, you respond, “I fucking well hope so.”

Then Eddie's thoughts fly straight out the window when your hand lands on his chest, nails raking him through the fabric. Suddenly, the temperature of the room is stifling, or is it just the feel of your body against his? He reaches tentatively to cup your cheek, rubbing a calloused thumb on your chin, eyes boring into yours for confirmation. Breath hitches in your throat; you lean in closer, gaze flickering to his perfect mouth and back up.

“Are you gonna kiss me or just stare at me, Eddie?”

You smirk, but it's wiped from your face immediately by his mouth smashing into yours. It's so forceful you have to fight to keep upright, hand fisting into his shirt as some sort of anchor.

As you pull away, his eyes widen, wondering if he did something wrong. He looks like a little puppy.

“Easy Eddie, we've got all night.”

All night? Eddie has decided that he must have got hit on the head today. Maybe he was jumped after all, and now he's in a coma, playing out some elaborate fantasy.

He settles back into the cushions, swigging his beer and failing to focus on the movie playing, his leg restlessly bouncing.

You look perfectly at ease, knees curled up on the seat. What he doesn't know is that your heart is pumping blood so fast that you're starting to feel a little dizzy from it, purposefully slowing your breath to keep your calm.

Once your beer is finished you've decided that enough is enough. A part of you wanted to take this slow; he seemed like such a nice guy, as well as being into your kind of music, and hot as sin. Unfortunately, it seems your pussy has other ideas, already banging its own heartbeat like a dinner bell.

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?” He tries to make it sound casual, but he's wound so tight it's almost a strangled noise. Nursing a semi since he saw you in the woods earlier, now it's straining against his jeans in a futile attempt to be near you.

He looks so damn nervous, and it gives you the confidence you need to swing your leg over his and straddle him. Eager hands land immediately on your hips, thumbs pressing hard to keep you there.

This time, you lean in. Your kiss is fire, tongue burning hot and heavy in his mouth. Eddie groans into the kiss, rolling desperation from his mouth to yours. He's breathing so hard it's whistling through his nose, clouding your cheek with condensation.

It almost feels like a competition, both tongues duelling, determined to unravel the other. Lips swollen and blood filled, your mouth tries to keep up with his, spit gathering at the edges. You'd be self conscious about it if you weren't so damn turned on.

Eddie's hands roam all over, grasping at your ass under your skirt, slipping inside the thin material of your panties at the back, until he runs a thumb just next to your underwear but this time dangerously close to your sex. You moan onto his tongue, your own hands winding into his hair, pulling harshly to spur him on.

He can't concentrate on the hard tingle your fingers cause to run all over his scalp, not when slips his fingers past the cotton barrier and he runs them up and down your slippery slit. Mind entirely encased in a pink fog of lust, you realise your mumbling in his mouth.

“Please, please, please-”

The corners of his mouth turn up at the sound, thumb seeking out your clit to rub circles on and around it, your arousal causing it to slip and slide. You're dizzy, hot all over, pussy aching for something inside.

Eddie's obsessed with the feel of you, the heat emanating from your cunt, but most of all with the sounds you make. They'd be pornographic, if they weren't so fucking real. Needy, hoarse moans, peppered with little gasps and whimpers that are making his cock twitch with each slip of his thumb.

Gliding a finger inside, he watches as your head rolls back, a strangled groan falling from your kiss bitten lips. You're practically riding his hand, bouncing your tits so close to his face that he's in a trance. As if you can hear his prayers, you pull your shirt off, fighting with the tight material until you can shake it off your arm.

He sees the glimpse of a tattoo, a snake wrapped around a dagger directly in your cleavage, which he momentarily thinks is really hot, but then he's gone. Your bare chest is a masterpiece, perfect tits jostling with each bounce of your thighs. He latches his mouth to a nipple, tonguing and sucking on it like he needs it to breathe. In fact he almost forgets to, pulling his mouth off to take a gasping breath and latch onto the other.

He drags his mouth away when he feels you tightening impossibly hard around his fingers and leans back just in time to see the show. Your climax is violent, grinding into his fingers hard and rough until suddenly you're screaming his name, nails breaking the skin of his neck as you cling on for dear life. Your release engulfs your body in a flash of fire, singeing each nerve and causing you to convulse in his grip. Eddie can barely move, his fingers straining hard to work you through your orgasm, so much so that the tendons of his arm hurt, but he doesn't care. He keeps on curling them until you physically grab his arm to still him.

His dripping fingers are released with a sucking sound as he grins at you smugly. Not for long though, not with your chest heaving like that and the way you're biting your lip. You yank at his t-shirt, pulling it over his head and relishing in the exposed skin by lathing your tongue over his collar bone.

“Nice tats.” You breathe onto his skin between sucks and nips.

“Same to you,” he stumbles out in a gasp as a particular sharp bite to his neck shoots a lightning bolt of heat down his spine.

“You haven't seen all of them,” you reply, nibbling at his earlobe.

He's never wanted to hunt for tattoos more in his whole life.

“Fuck, you are a dream.”

His teeth bite down on your shoulder and you whimper, grinding down on his rock hard bulge. Enveloping his lips in another urgent kiss, and another, until you can break away long enough for one word.

“Bedroom?”

“Jesus fucking Christ yes.”

He stands, still holding you, knocking a beer bottle to the floor. You cling to him with your legs as he walks backwards, sending a table lamp flying in the process. It's inconsequential; your head is fighting through a cloud of need, nothing can find its way through but touch and taste.

In the hallway, he slams your back into the wall, pressing you hard against it as he writhes his tongue in your mouth again. A picture frame falls, you just about hear the tinkling of glass but it's not important. That's tomorrow's problem.

Unhooking yourself from his clutches for a moment, you drag him by the front of his jeans and yank him into a doorway, gasping for breath, grasping at flesh. You practically punch the lightswitch to turn it on, the thought that you need to see him just about making it through the horny mist. Once inside he barely has a chance to take in his surroundings before you're falling to your knees and undoing his belt with impatient fingers.

“Woah, baby, you don't need to-”

“Shut the fuck up Eddie I wanna blow you.”

Eddie rubs his hands over his face and then compulsively strokes his neck just to keep some composure. If he thinks about your words for a second longer he's sure he'll bust right in his pants.

You work his fly and pull his jeans and boxers down swiftly, his turgid cock flying free and whacking his stomach, decorating it with a pearl of precum. It feels heavy in your hands as you rub him up and down, watching the soft skin move with each pass, like silk wrapped around a steel bar.

Taking him into your mouth, you twirl your tongue around his head, licking up its salty sweetness, sucking lightly. Eddie groans, torn between covering his eyes and holding you in place, so he does a bit of both, until you start taking him deeper and deeper without gagging.

His eyes snap open to see you staring straight at him, nose nestling in his coarse pubic hair, eyes wide and wet and innocent, mouth stretched full of him, and he feels his balls tighten.

“Fuck stop stop, please.”

He practically bends in half to get you off of his dick. Giving him a smug smile of your own, you delicately wipe the spit gathered at the corners of your mouth with a thumb.

“You OK there champ?”

“You are gonna kill me sweetheart.”

He's heaving, trying to control his breath, eyes darting from your face, to your bare chest and back up. Standing up, you unzip your skirt, allowing it to fall to the floor, leaving you in your tiny pink underwear with a very noticeable wet patch, and your thigh high socks. There's another tattoo hiding just out of sight, playing peekaboo over the top of your panties.

Something about seeing you so innocent and yet so naughty flicks a switch in his brain. Before he can think he's pushing you backwards and you hit the mattress behind with a thud, legs dangling off the edge of the bed.

Which is fucking perfect in Eddie's opinion because he needs to taste you right now otherwise he might die.

You both fight to take your underwear off, but he covers your hand in his own when you start rolling your socks down.

“No. Leave them on.”

It's husky and dominant, a steely look behind those soft brown eyes you haven't seen yet. Well. Filing that away for reference. You lay there sweetly, propped up on your elbows to watch as his tongue squirms against you, making out with your cunt just as passionately as he kissed you.

He takes your clit in his mouth and sucks and for a moment you can see God.

“Holy fuck! Eddie!” He groans back, lost in the taste of your cunt. He wants to write a poem about it, a song, a fucking haiku, anything to immortalise the prettiest pussy with the sweetest flavour.

“Eddie, get up here!” He's not listening, licking and sucking, almost getting as much pleasure as you are, but you need him inside you right now before you combust; you're sure of it.

In the end you grab a chunk of his hair and pull him upward, sliding him over your trembling body, and you hold his face an inch from yours.

“Eddie, I need you to fuck me, now.”

His leaking tip is rubbing against your swollen clit; he takes it in his hand to line it up, when somewhere out of the pussy drunk haze he remembers something important.

“Do you have protection?”

“I'm on the pill, is that-”

It clearly is OK. It's possibly the best four words Eddie's ever heard.

Your unfinished sentence morphs into a drawn out moan as Eddie pushes inside you, stretching you out until he's fully sheathed. As you whimper and whine at the feeling, Eddie stops, just for a moment, to hold your cheek and press a soft kiss to your lips.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

For some reason that takes you entirely by surprise, eyes wide and wet at his honesty.

“Yeah? You're really handsome, Eddie.”

The smile he shoots you is warm and genuine, lighting up that animate face of his with an inner glow. You roll your hips upward and take joy in the fact that he wasn't expecting it, eyebrows knitting in shock as a litany of swear words spill from his mouth.

Your smirk is short lived when he hikes your leg around his waist and starts thrusting devastatingly deep, so deep it's like he's in your guts trying to root out the source of the burning desire at the pit of your stomach.

“Holy- oh God, Eddie!”

Moaning loudly, you press hot, cushy kisses to him between your stream of noises, forehead resting on his. Eddie's smiling, he can't help it. Just the joy of being with you like this, the feel of you losing it because of him, and the tightness of your pretty cunt have him in paradise.

“Feels- feels so- oh fuck- so good, inside you, sweetheart. So fuckin’ tight, I-I can feel you shaking, you close?”

Words escape you. All you can do is cling to his back and nod, nails clawing into him with shivering intensity. Eddie thrusts into you harder; all you can do is cling on for your life, arms and legs nearly suffocating him. The telltale tingle of your release is nearly burning your skin, prickling over each downy hair making it stand on end.

The heat is immense, tension gripping your legs as you quake, and writhe, and whimper, until your climax flies out of you, shooting out of every pore and forcing tears from your eyes. Your vision turns bright white for a moment, until all the tension leaves your muscles and you flop back on the bed.

Eddie doesn't understand how you keep on getting hotter, but it doesn't matter. You let him inside of you, raw, and his head is still reeling from that. Each little sound, each flex of your constricting walls is pushing him to ecstasy; in fact he's staving it off so he can enjoy you like this for a little while longer.

Getting up on his knees, he pulls you toward him by your thighs, guiding you to roll your hips as he pumps into you. This angle is so much better; he can see all of your incredible body laid out before him, tits bouncing with each thrust. Your small hand finds his forearm, just holding it lightly, as you whine.

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.”

It's high pitched, mumbled and nearly incoherent. He's not even sure you know you're doing it, but it's what pushes him over the edge. He feels the tightness in his balls as his length grows impossibly hard.

“Sweetheart, where-” He manages through gritted teeth.

“Please cum in me.”

Eddie's four new favourite words. He grips hard to your thighs, hard enough to bruise, as he groans and swears his release out. You feel it deep inside, throbbing out of him, when he finally collapses forward. You hold onto each other, tongues rolling into each other's mouths, kissing and kissing and kissing. You kiss until it hurts, until your mouth is chapped and sore, until you need air, and water.

“Fuck, Eddie, that was… sorry, if I er, came on a bit, strong?”

Eddie just laughs, pressing his body as tightly against yours as he can.

“Please don't ever apologise for wanting to fuck my brains out.”

You laugh, kissing his cheek.

“When you put it like that, fair enough. Right, get off me, I need to clean up.”

“I can take care of you-”

“Yeah, and I'm a grown woman who needs to piss, so please?”

You roll your wrists, flinging your hands in desperate circles. He surrenders, pulling off you and rolling onto his back, more than happy to watch your naked form sway out of the room.

Eddie does a little wiggle dance when you leave the room, punching the air with glee. He starts looking at your room, since he had no time to see it earlier. There's a tin on the bedside table that looks remarkably similar to what he has at home, and an honest to goodness lava lamp next to it. Unable to help himself, he flicks it on at the plug, waiting for it to warm up.

“Sweetheart, you mind if I roll?” He calls out.

“Sure, my shits on the side table, just light the incense on the dresser.”

Eddie seeks his boxers out and puts them on for his modesty, though it seems you may be a little, lacking, in that department. Not that he's complaining, far from it. He's obsessed with your demeanour, your confidence.

Once the incense is lit, he rolls a joint, fussing over it to make sure it's perfect for you. Just as he pulls the little twisted paper end off, you walk back in.

You'd taken the time to go to the restroom, clean yourself up, and find his t-shirt that was abandoned in the TV room. The hellfire logo is tight across your chest, the shirt barely covering your sex where you stand. The smile you shoot to him is absolutely smothered in sin.

“That's, fuck, you do not play fair, sweetheart.”

Eyes wide, eyebrows round and innocent, your mouth falls into a perfect o.

“I have no idea what you're talking about baby.”

Eddie can't speak. If he does, he'll give everything away. How wonderful you are, how that tightrope of dirty and sweet that you walk with ease twists his insides up. How he never wants to go home.

Instead, he passes the unlit smoke to you, and holds out his zippo like a sacrificial offering. You sit side saddle on the bed, knees together, barely covering your throbbing core, as you take the rolled joint gratefully and spark it. Once you've had a few tokes you pass it back.

“So, this was…” He widely gestures his arm, like it can encompass everything he's felt over the last few hours.

“You wanna leave, Eddie?” You ask. A genuine question, cocking your head to the side, as he takes a few pulls of the smoke and hands it back.

“I thought, well, I thought you'd want me to go.”

“Eddie, I said we had all night. If you're done with me then-”

“Oh, oh fuck no, I thought you'd be done with me!”

You giggle and climb into his lap as he grasps at the flesh of your ass desperately.

“Then stay. Stay with me.”

Your mouth presses kisses to his jaw as your hand winds itself into his boxers, seeking out his hardening length. Eddie hisses through his teeth.

“Fuck, I'll stay, as long as you fuckin’ want, w-whatever you want, Holy shit!”

Laughing, you puff on the smoke with one hand, and tease him relentlessly with the other.

For the second, third, or maybe even fourth time today, he's thinking he's in way over his head, but he can't find it in him to care.

********************

Eddie blinks hard, squishing his eyes shut, then opens them again. Nothing has changed. There's still an unfamiliar fabric hanging on the ceiling in front of him; some rainbow tie dye mural with a painted mariguana leaf in the middle of it that he's never seen before. When he turns his head, he sees a lava lamp, still on, running bubbles of fake lava up it too loose and fast, and then he remembers.

Flicking the switch to stop the lamp's heat, he turns over to see you. You're snuggled into the crook of your own elbow, face perfectly at ease. Your pretty mouth has the hint of a pout to it, daring him to plant a kiss.

He wants to do something for you. Anything. Right now, he'd throw a parade, organise a concert to sing to your cunt, hold a benefit to make you believe how hard he's fallen for the colour of your eyes, but maybe making you a coffee in bed will do.

So he wiggles out of bed in his boxers, and puts his jeans on for good measure in case your mom decides this is a good moment to turn up, and starts busying himself with the kitchen appliances. There's an ancient coffee maker that shakes and sputters to life. Whilst that is going on, he takes a slug of milk out of the carton in the fridge.

That is, until he sees Dustin from the side of his eye.

Dustin looks very confused. His eyes trail from the messed up couch cushions, to the beer bottles on the floor, the out of place lamp, and the broken picture frame, and finally land on Eddie, still bemused and befuddled.

“Eddie… did you… break into my house?”

Dustin clearly doesn't believe his own conclusion as his eyes scout across the available options and still come up empty.

“Sup, Dust Buster!”

Dustin swivels to see you exit your new bedroom, still wearing Eddie's hellfire t-shirt and a pair of panties. You perch nonchalantly on the kitchen side as Eddie grins, making his way between your knees.

“You've got to be fucking kidding me! Eddie!”

“Henderson, honest, I didn't know until-”

“Until you were in my fucking house???”

“OK fair, but it was a bit… late then. Sorry dude.”

‘Sorry? What about the code?” Come on, she's my sister! And you!” He says, pointing at you accusingly, “you were in school for one day. One! Then you sleep with the one guy I look up to!”

“The codes, more like… guidelines. Don't shit your pants, you've still got Harrington, Jeez.”

“Well, you shouldn't be such a- a scarlet woman! A hussy!”

Uncaring, you shake your head back and away, laughing at the names. Eddie, however, is not having any of it.

“Hey, Henderson, you better show your sister some respect.”

“Yeah? Or what?” He dares, forgetting who he's talking to.

“I might be fucking your sister, but I'm still your DM. You want your green adventurers running into Tiamat next session?”

The way he curves his lips, the confident stance he's giving, it stirs tiny fires in your gut and dares unthought of kinks to come out and play.

“Alright, alright, don't TPK us, I'm leaving, alright?”

Dustin turns on his heel. Before he disappears entirely, you make out the start of him begging, ‘Lucas, do you copy, I have a Code Red! Repeat! Code Red!”

“so, what now, Dungeon Master?”

“Mmph,” Eddie sounds out, low in his throat, “ whatever you want, scarlet woman.”

Taglist- If you want to be added or removed, please PM me!

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n @joejoequinnquinn

#ms gexy writes #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you #eddie x reader #switch!eddie #switch!eddie x switch!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x female reader #eddie x fem reader #eddie x fem!reader

2K notes · View notes

bunnibaby-love · 2 months

Text

🌶️ Sylus x F!Reader 🌶️

♡ nsfw + degradation + hard fucking + brat reader + dom sylus + slapping + breeding + oral mreceiving + choking + mean sylus

You always act like a brat to Sylus but he never lose his composure and will even play with you from time to time. He's used bartering with your childish antics but maybe he spoiled you a little too much

Sylus left you only for half a minute to wait on his motorcycle while he got something inside the headquarters but you think it would be funny to play a little hide in seek at the n109 zone

Of course it's dangerous but you wanna act tough so Sylus won't spot you so easily. You hide a bit far away on top of a little tree and cover yourself with the leaves and barks

It didn't take Sylus 3 minutes and you already meet his piercing red eyes under the tree. You bite your lower lip knowing you're definitely fucked! Sylus hates it when you wander around at n109 zone because of how dangerous it is.

You pout and climb down, lowering your gaze at the grass and playing with your fingers as Sylus come closer and glare at you "You really never listen to what i say don't you? You're just a silly little girl....wanderers will eat you for snack bunny"

Sylus gripped your waist and dragged you back to the headquarters. Luke and Kieran had the audacity to snicker at you so you stick out your tongue at them before Sylus push you to his bedroom and lock the door

"How many more times do i have to repeat myself on that dumb little head of yours that you should only stick beside me especially when were outside hmm?" He sat beside you to rubbed your thighs "Do you still not get it or do i have to drill it to your brain?"

"Sorry Sy....i just thought it will be fun! you always so busy can't even spend time with me!hmph" Sylus chuckled. You're such an attention seeker for him and it never fail to amuse him

"I have a night for you now sweetie..." He burries his face on your neck and attacked your neck with his sloppy kisses

You eagerly sat on his lap, your favorite place to sit "Sy---eakk!!" you yelp as Sylus rough palm slap your ass and gripped your jaw

"Think you'll go unpunished after that little trick you pulled earlier sweetie?" he laughed and pushed you on your back at his bed

Calloused hands wrapped around your neck tightly as Sylus is unbottoning your blouse and throws it at floor "All this damn time and you're not wearing a bra? Are you that much of a slut?"

"Um..it"s thick top..i..it's okay...eak!" another whimper from your after Sylus slapped your boob and pinch your perks "Kieran and Luke was there, you wanted them? was my dick not enough?" he choked you harder that makes you throw your head back and suddenly met with Sylus long cock

You still have your mouth open catching your breath while Sylus is chocking you when he slides it deep down your throat. "Fuck baby....i know you can take it...you're a good girl right?" You gagged and gripped Sylus thighs but know better than you can't even move by your position with Sylus on top of your face and his other hand gripping your hair then you just have to take him

Sylus pumped on your face and occasionally pulling out to slap his cock at your face "You look like a whore....fit for stupid girl that don't know how to behave"

He slapped your face two times to and get off of your face. You cough and catched your breath but Sylus didn't give you enough time by turning you on your stomach "Ass up"

You quickly push your knees to bed and Sylus ripped your skirt, leaving you on your panties. "So wet? you're turned on by me hitting huh?" he slapped your cunt hard you almost lost balance but he gripped your hips hardly "Don't move too much or i'll bind all your limbs got it? be a good girl f'me"

"Always smell so sweet" you whimper when he moved your undies to side and felt his tall nose met your wet cunt. As always, Sylus eats you sloppily, playing his tongue inside you and holding on your cute butt you're sure will leave bruises

"Fuck....ngh....my clit...Sy please play with it...." The tiny bud you just love whenever he plays with it with the tip of his tongue or when his finger circled it, even it's the head of his cock kissing it and making a pool out of his cum

But instead of mountain of pleasure, he pinch your bud "Aww..." you're so sensitive yet it still hurts! Sylus must be really mad now, afterall it's his safety protocol you break

You gripped the fairymane plushie he got you from the claw machine as you're about to reach ecstacy. 'Sy....im...cu--" you explode all over his face bedsheet. You expect him to be annoyed with you releasing without his permission yet, he kept his relentless attacked on your cunt

"Waaaaa...s..stop..." It took Sylus an hour before he decided it's over. You lost track of how many times he made you finish until your lay limp on your stomach

Ready to closed your eyes for the tiring night, you felt Sylus lay on your back and pulls out your hair "No no baby...you're not sleeping...you want me right? you wanna play? then i'll give you what you been begging"

You let out a loud moan as the sweet pain of his cock entered your inside. The familiar pain of your inside adjusting inside you feels painful but full of pleasure

He didn't gave you an enough time to adjust as he pistol his dick inside you and putting all his weight down on your back "Oh...oh god! S--Sylus yo...you're gonna b-break me!"

"That's what im intend to do sweetie" Sylus circle his left hand to chocked you and put his right hand fingers inside your mouth, taking it off to slapper your cheeks and tits before messing with your face again

You're full on sobbing with overwhelming pleassure and screaming way too loud "Tsk.." Sylus grab both of your shoulder blades and push your whole upper body on the bed, still hammering on your body

"Fuck....i'm cumming..." he grab your cheek again and move a bit so you could rest your cheeks on the soft headboard "I'm gonna cum inside....gonna give you a damn baby so you...will just stay inside and play with my baby mhm"

A wet sloppy kiss on your tear stained cheek and you cum together with Sylus. Your whole body feels like a jelly after Sylus mandhandles you

He turns you over and kissed your lips "See...you look so much better when you're just here in my bed...instead of playing outside at that dangerous zone with your dumb head....you're even prettier just dumb on my bed"

He gently gives your bud a light pinch that you can barely whimper with your hoarse voice and he just laughs "You look so docile right now....good....i'll just have to teach you over and over again how harsh i can be whenever you wanna be bratty again baby"

#love and deepspace #love and deep space #love and deepspace smut #lads #lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus #lnds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus x reader smut #sylus smut #l&ds #l&ds smut

507 notes · View notes

hedgehog-moss · 3 months

Note

I know your blog focuses on Pampe, professional criminelid, but you’ve been focusing on your new garden (and you should rightfully be proud of it). Um, so what’s stopping your animals from munching on the fruits of your labor?

The beautiful fence that I built!!

My vegetable garden is outside the pasture, but I've left a door in the fence just in front of it so I can let the animals out sometimes to weed the area (under close supervision). You can see the opening in this pic:

My fence has been such a success btw <3 I know it doesn't sound like it because there are still occasional llama escapes, but that's because I've only built the Ultimate Anti-Pampe Fence along 2 sides of the pasture (which is roughly triangle-shaped). It took me two years to finish it but since completion it's never been outsmarted! The only time Pampe got through this fence was after a boar had boared his way through it first, which is not my poor fence's fault. It was designed to be Pampe-proof not everything-proof. And I refuse to count an instance of Pampe escaping through a hole made by a wild animal as Pampe defeating my fence, unless she can provide evidence of having personally set up a secret programme training boars for this job.

The problematic side of the pasture is the hypotenuse which still has the old, non-Pampe-proof fence left by the former owners—so the few times she escaped in the past year, it was from there. I've been playing the long game because there are lots of hazel trees growing there and they grow quite fast, so I'd like to fence this side with a hazel hedgerow. Pampe has so far never escaped through the (still-growing) hazel fence, not even in winter when it's leafless! However there are several Danger Points—gaps in the hedgerow here and there. I've been planting different kinds of flowering shrubs or evergreen hedge plants in these gaps to close them but this fencing method takes time. Especially since Pirlouit often tries to eat my living fence while it's still young. It's a fun project though; by now the woman at the plant nursery is used to me showing up asking for a new anti-llama plant for my hedge. Here's one of the gaps I'm trying to fill:

I have also been thwarted in my efforts to obtain a living fence two years in a row, by the city hall guy who trims roadside trees—he kept trimming my hazel hedgerow so it was like 1m50, and I kept desperately reminding him that it needs to be much taller. The next year he trimmed it so it was 1m70 and I was like, no. I need it to be taller. You know my llama. He was like, okay, how tall? Just tell me and I'll trim it at the height you want. I said, one hundred metres tall I don't know, she gets smarter every year! By the time she learns how to fly I need my hedge to be visible from space!

He no longer trims these hazel trees.

If I were a tour guide in a sightseeing bus I would be like, on your right ladies and gentlemen is a normal hedgerow bordering a cow pasture; on your left is the Great Anti-Pampe Wall. Kindly do not throw your chewing-gums over the hedge she might use them as suction cups to attempt the climb.

#ask #llama drama #(well the hedge /is/ trimmed just not in a vertical capacity)

620 notes · View notes

annwrites · 3 months

Text

sons & daughters. part four.

— pairing: cregan stark x fem!reader

— type: part of a series

— summary: you see a different side of cregan, reminisce on old memories, & a confirmation is made.

— word count: 15,854

— a/n: my theme song for aemond & reader is take me to church. but instead of the subject of the song being a woman, it's aemond lol.

— tagging list: @beebeechaos @crypticlxrsh @amindfullofmonsters @yeolsbubbles @icefrye19

When it comes time for supper, you are famished.

You'd had a small lunch while seated before the fire in your room—a sandwich and soup, with a hearty side of roasted vegetables—but it had not entirely filled you.

That was what you got for having missed breaking your fast, and instead spending the morning lost inside your head. In your worries.

But praying, as Cregan had suggested, had lightened your load. There was something about the simplicity of it—that beautiful bit of woods, the tall tree with blood-red leaves standing resolute before you, a face to listen—which had settled you.

It had not taken long before your crying and rapid breaths had calmed, and you began to simply speak to them: his Gods, as if they were old friends.

It had been a far-cry, in terms of experience, from how you felt when praying in the Sept at King's Landing. There, you had felt spied upon by those looming statues, meant to judge and decide your fate.

Bastard, bastard, bastard, you were sure they whispered in congress.

You had felt uneasy about the Septas and Septons who walked about, curious eyes roving over you as they placed new candles when the others finally burnt down to no more than wicks.

But, as with everything else, even your spiritual experience here had been preferable to out there.

You are glad for it, though. To have found new deities to confide in. It brings you peace to have them now at your requisite.

Cregan has just pulled on a pair of trousers when there is a soft knock at his door.

HIs head turns in that direction and he pads over to it on bare feet, and when he opens it, he is met by the sight of you staring up at him, and then to his naked, muscled chest with wide eyes, your face reddening.

"I—" You start, then stop suddenly.

His lip twitches.

He supposes your mysterious suitor is, at the very least, forgotten in this moment as he instead overtakes your senses.

He leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms, his biceps bulging. "Yes, My Princess? I was just readying myself for supper."

He sees his cloak in your arms, but instead of making this easier for you—he thinks himself a rogue for even thinking it—he waits on you to instead continue.

Your eyes trail back up, until meeting his own once again.

You shove the cloak suddenly toward him, your hands shaking. "Thank you. For the cloak, that is. Well, both of them. Here it is."

He grins, taking it from you. "Thank you. You received my gift, then?"

You nod, still flushed.

"I did," you say quietly. "I am very grateful for it. It was kind of you to give it to me."

You nod toward the one in his arms. "And for allowing me to borrow your own for the day."

"How did it go, then?"

You blink at him, mind whirring. "What?"

He raises a brow. "Praying."

You smile. "I should have spoken to them sooner. The Seven never felt...quite right for me. Whereas everything here does."

He smiles as well, pleased to hear that you finally found something you had mayhaps been looking for—before the weirwood. In his home as a whole.

You go to step away, then.

"I shall leave you to dress," you say, blood rushing to your face once again.

"Will you wait for me to escort you to dinner, Y/N?"

You nod gently, and go to wait in your room for him to retrieve you.

You sit beside Cregan once again this evening, softly smiling—unable to stop, really—each time you think of him standing so...immodestly before you.

It is immodest for you to think of it, you know, but you cannot help yourself.

As if you have not been immodest with another before...

You glance to him from under your lashes, smiling when he smiles at Jace as they jest, then quickly away, back to the dish before you when he looks in your direction.

You flush when you feel his thigh press against your own under the table, and when his forearm brushes against yours atop it.

Mayhaps you seem a bit foolish, to be so taken with him and so early at that, but it is difficult not to be. No man has ever treated you with such tenderness. Such concern.

So you choose to indulge yourself by enjoying it: his company. Even if you know it will not last, and sooner, rather than later, come to an end.

Your heart sinks at the knowledge, so you decide to push it aside for now and play pretend once more that everything is alright. That you and Jace are merely here visiting with a friend, and not plotting for battle.

During a brief silence, you finally speak to Jace.

"I saw you in the training yard today."

He looks at you with a raised brow, prepared for whatever commentary you are about to bestow upon him about his quick defeat.

"Spying, are we, sister?" He asks, voice monotone.

You shrug, taking a bite of your venison, then swallowing. "You clearly could use the practice."

Cregan's lip twitches at your banter, wondering if you had been impressed by him; his skill with a sword.

"You're one to talk."

You sit up straighter. "What is that supposed to mean?"

He leans in toward you. "I could have you suing for peace in only a moment with only a stick in my hand."

A smirk comes onto your lips. "Is that so?"

He groans. He should've remembered.

"Tell me, dear brother," you start, watching as he rolls his eyes. "Who was it, some years ago, who was begging who for mercy when one of us was equipped with only a switch from a sapling?"

"Yes, well," he states sarcastically. "It wasn't very proper of you to be assaulting your future king, and Prince of Dragonstone, now was it? Some might even say treasonous."

You kick him lightly. "You took my doll."

"For the last time, I told you it was Luke."

"I found it beheaded in your chest!"

Cregan snorts from beside you before taking a drink of his ale.

Jace sighs dramatically. "I will remember this insolence when you are once again clinging to me for warmth atop Vermax on our way home."

Cregan's face falls then.

You glare at him. "I have a new cloak. I shall be perfectly content."

"From?" Jace asks.

"Me," Cregan interjects.

Jacaerys turns to him then.

"You gifted my sister a cloak?" He asks, questioningly.

He shrugs. "She was ill-equipped for northern weather. I misliked seeing her cold and shivering. It pleases me to see her, instead, warm, and looked after by mine own hand."

You grow suddenly quiet, a warmth blooming in your chest at his comment, your heart fluttering.

Jace glances between the two of you then, wondering if something has transpired which he had missed. He trusts Lord Stark well enough thus far, but knows that he is, still, a man. One without a wife for some time now, at that.

He doesn't know that he envisions him as the sort to win himself your good graces, so as to then fall into bed together under the false pretense of a promise of marriage, but he must still be cautious.

You as well.

"That was very kind of you, Lord Cregan," Jace offers, studying him.

Cregan looks to you, watching as you eat your meal silently. "I wish only that I could give the Princess more."

You glance up to him and he smiles softly at you. "Mayhaps we should all journey into Winter Town on the morrow."

He looks at your brother then. "What say you, Jace?"

Jacaerys grins at the offer. "We shall make an afternoon of it."

Initially, when you lie down for the evening, you struggle to sleep due to excitement. Giddiness, even.

The way he'd treated you today—the small touches and the lingering looks he'd given you—it had all served to make you feel, once more, like a woman grown. Not as a girl, not as a child. But a lady desired.

A feeling you have thought you may never experience again after your last day in the capitol.

When you began to grow into your body all those years ago, you still felt inside the way you always had. Shy, and one to hide behind your mother's skirts. You have, clearly, much felt it here as well, despite this place having a sense of home for you.

Until he gave you his attentions and said stern words of wisdom.

I cannot imagine a finer fate, he had told you about you one day being a man's wife and mother to his children.

Does he...does he feel it, too then? It is so foolish to think he may, after only being here together a handful of days, but you cannot deny that you admire him. That you...wish for him.

For his attentions to continue.

He is stern, yet gentle. A man of convictions, yet open-minded. Young, but seemingly old at-heart. And rugged, but very handsome. And above all else, intimidating, but so very safe.

When his eyes fall upon you, you feel warmth spreading along your body like a dragon's fire across a field, your heart blooming like a rose in spring.

You turn on your side, softly squealing into the furs that your flushed cheek rests upon, heart beating wildly like a drum each time you even attempt at closing your eyes, for you are soon greeted by the image of him, like that of this morning.

His broad chest, his wide shoulders, tall frame and muscular arms.

You grin like a girl in love when you so much as think of his voice, it whispered into your ears.

As you finally begin to calm, you fall off to sleep with a smile, knowing: you will see him once more on the morrow.

You and Jace meet Lord Stark the next morn near the stables after having broken your fasts together.

Jace had asked you many questions about your time together with Cregan as you dined on bacon and bread and potatoes. Such as the things you have discussed, the places you have gone around the grounds, and then his true inquiry became apparent before long: had he done anything...untoward.

You'd stated firmly, then, that Cregan did not seem that sort of man to you, so of course not. He is a man of honor, you'd insisted.

You'd shrugged off your shawl then, hoping to cool yourself—rid yourself of your flushed cheeks—at that image of him half-undressed once again painting itself within your mind.

You were desperately glad, then, that Jace could not read it.

Lord Cregan greets you with a smile, his hand coming to find its way to the small of your back as he leads you over to an inky black courser with a mane that is so silky, it looks like water running over stones at midnight.

He watches as you pet its neck gently.

You look up to him, his fingertips dancing lightly over your gifted cloak.

It pleases him to see you wearing it—including that of the sigil of his house. He deems it much suits you.

"What is her name?" You ask.

"Onyx."

You laugh lightly. "Fitting, I suppose. Will you be riding her, then?"

He shakes his head. "She is for you, Princess. I would gift her to you, but I imagine getting her properly seated atop a dragon would be with much difficulty," he states with a grin.

He would gift you a horse?

You flush.

"It is the thought that counts. Thank you," you say, taking his hand in yours with a gentle squeeze.

You then look behind him at a large, gorgeous chestnut steed. "Yours?"

He nods while looking to him. "I've had him since I was a young lad. My first horse, in fact. Given to me by my father on my fourth name day."

"I was sorry to hear about him," you say, taking a step closer, nearly pressed against his side.

He closes the distance. "I suppose we both know that pain. You all too well—two-fold."

He glances at Jace, who is busy speaking to the stablemaster and he decides to be rather bold—for only a moment. He slides his hand beneath your cloak, along your waist, circling it within his arm.

Your gaze immediately meets his, to find him staring down at you with an unreadable expression.

"I—" You start, then stop.

His gloved thumb brushes over your hip. "Will you walk with me, once we have reached town, Y/N?"

You swallow thickly, then nod. "I will."

He nods toward your horse then, sliding his other hand beneath your cloak as well, gripping both your hips firmly, and suddenly lifting you atop your new traveling companion for the morn.

You brace your hands upon his shoulders, smiling down at him over the unexpected gesture as his rough hands slide from your hips and down your thighs before finally settling back at his sides once more.

When you arrive in the small market town—which is located closely enough to Winterfell that you would have been just as equally pleased to walk there—you go to dismount, until Cregan orders you to wait for him.

You flush at the stern command, but obey, nonetheless.

Jace watches from the side as Cregan lifts his arms, takes you by the hips and slides you off in one fell swoop, placing you firmly back on your feet on frozen northern ground.

He rests his wrist over the pommel of his sword, now wondering, as Lord Stark tucks a curled lock behind your ear with gentleness, if mother’s blessing for marriage will not soon come to be of much use.

He would not mind calling Cregan brother.

He smiles at the thought as he trails behind the pair of you—your arm wrapped firmly around Cregan’s, so as to keep you safely close to his side—giving you both your space, curious to see if blossoms can still bloom, even in such temperate climates.

As your twin brother—the other part of your soul, for you have been together since the moment of your conception—he wants nothing more than for you to be safe and contented. He thinks, with confidence, that Lord Cregan could potentially provide such things, and more.

You smile as you watch a family of five walk past, bowing their heads in respect to their liege lord, while he does the same to them in return. The children trail behind their mother like a row of ducklings, which only causes your smile to grow wider.

Cregan glances to you, very much liking the sight of you so happy for a change. “Do you wish for children, Princess?”

You glance to the side, worried someone may have heard him.

You and Jace had opted not to wear anything indicating your house—who each of you are—this morn, so as to remain at least slightly inconspicuous out of an effort to enjoy yourselves here.

As far as these people know, you are just friends of Lord Stark’s.

You nod. “I do.”

His hand slides overtop of yours, which is wrapped round his bicep—the location chosen by you on purpose.

“How many?”

You shrug, glancing to a stall selling various spices. “As many as my future lord husband desires, I suppose.”

He nearly groans at the unsatisfactory answer. “I did not ask about about him, Y/N, I asked about you. Your desires, and yours alone.”

You glance up to him, yet again enjoying his stern tone.

You know not why.

It had initially frightened you in the crypts just a day ago, but now…you think mayhaps his congenial façade is beginning to lower, and the Wolf of the North is instead emerging the more time you spend in one another’s company.

You do not entirely mind it.

Someone for once refusing to accept what you first offer them on the surface, and instead asking after what lies within you instead is not something you have experienced for quite some time.

Well, not entirely true. Naught but a few days past did another look directly into you as well—but with him that was nothing new. You had just been surprised he was still so adept at it after so long apart.

It had meant something to you that he was.

“In truth? I would like as many as my body will allow. I may wish for a quiet place to live, but I do not wish for a quiet home.”

You smile warmly. “I wish to be awoken by the pitter-patter of little feet and hear laughter at all hours of the day. I would even prefer the sound of my children crying because the other has once again broken their favorite toy to that of solemn silence.”

You look at Cregan and laugh. “Jace and I might have done that quite often when we were cross with one another. And we were always cross with one another. I destroyed a number of his wooden soldiers growing up.”

His lip twitches. “You must have very strong hands to accomplish such a feat.”

You shake your head. “I threw them into the hearth to use as kindling.”

He laughs then.

“There is another thing I am most certain of, which I know is not common practice, but I will not have it any other way, so long as my husband agrees.”

“And what might that be, Y/N?”

“I will feed my children from mine own breasts. I won’t have a wet nurse do it for me if I can help it. My babes will have come from me, and they will thus be nursed by me. I can’t bear the thought of another woman instead having that privilege. To think of them instead in her arms and…”

You shake your head, upset just at the thought of it.

He leans toward you, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head. “An admirable thing for a highborn lady to want.”

You flush at the tender gesture.

He leads you into a shop then, which is filled with various wares: dried herbs, jars, pots, decanters, mortar and pestles, ointments and salves—clearly an apothecary. And up front is a small selection of brass and wooden toys, at perfect eye-level for little ones.

You step over to a crate holding cinnamon sticks which are bound together in small batches with twine, then pause when you hear a child asking for a little wooden horse.

“Please, mummy? I lost my other one. Please?”

She shakes her head, counting coins—even looking to the shopkeep and pushing a jar toward him, clearly not able to afford it.

“Not today, darling. I’m sorry.”

She takes her purchase in one hand, and then her child’s hand in her free one, and your heart sinks and you watch the little boy rub at his eyes.

“Would you—” Cregan starts, but you brush past him, racing to the counter and handing over a few shining Dragons to the elderly man behind it before grabbing the jar the woman had left, as well as a toy horse—even a wooden knight to go with it—quickly following after them.

Cregan steps out after you, trying to keep up with your brisk pace, and then he watches from a distance—halting in his tracks—as you greet a woman with a warm smile and an understanding look, placing a jar firmly within her hands.

She fervently shakes her head, trying to hand it back to you, but you insist before then bending down to meet her son. And he watches as you hand the little boy a set of matching wooden toys—painted ones, at that.

The mother’s chin wobbles as her son squeals with glee. Both of them thanking you profusely, while you try desperately to brush it off as nothing.

But it is not nothing to the stoic northern lord who watches you. To him, it is everything. Yet one step closer to confirmation of a question of great importance that he has in-mind.

You walk back over to him, cheeks burning as you take his arm again.

“Princess, that was…very generous of you.”

“I have more coin than I know what to do with. I won’t watch others go without if I can help. I refuse to. It wasn’t generous. It was just the right thing to do.”

“You have a kind heart,” he remarks.

“Mayhaps I just have one in general. It seems so many others like us—highborns—have forgotten theirs. I won’t be one of them. Especially now.”

You’re quiet for a moment, with a question to ask—as you are on the subject of hearts and humanity—but worried it may be too personal, or, perhaps, offensive.

You use your most gentle tone. “Does it…bother you, the thought of having to potentially take a life when the time comes?”

His thumb brushes over your fingers that grip his upper arm. “At one time, mayhaps. But it has long since passed. I know my duty. As Lord of Winterfell, but much more, Warden of the North. Hard times call for hard sacrifices. For difficult acts. I will do what must be done. Not just because it is what is expected of me, but to honor my forebears, my name, my people, and kingdom. Any duty, great or small, is to be looked upon as a privilege. Not a burden. As a Stark, we do what we do in the name of honor—of what is true—instead of doing it out of personal benefit, or for some form of political gain.”

You press your cheek against the crown of his shoulder then, much liking his honest answer. He always seems able to speak from the heart. You appreciate such a quality.

Being raised in King’s Landing…it is something you are not used to.

You wrap your other arm around his then, holding tightly to him. “Wish that I knew what that was like. I fear I never will.”

“You do not miss it then? King’s Landing?”

“If I never set eyes upon it again, I think I would be quite content with that.”

“A den of vipers, I believe I once heard it referred to it as,” he states.

Your lip twitches. “An apt name for it, yes. Even when you think you are alone, you’re not. Spies and worse around every corner, always waiting and listening and watching. The courtiers do adore their gossip.”

“Were you not close with any of them, then? The ‘Greens’, as they now seem to be called—the Hightowers.”

You straighten your head again, looking forward as the two of you round a shop, which you then come to lean back against as you release his arm, Jace otherwise occupied across the way speaking with a blacksmith.

You rest your gloved hands over your abdomen. “I was. With one.”

“Princess Helaena, I presume?”

“She and I were polite with one another, but she seemed always content to be left alone. Which I understood. So no, not Helaena.”

“The Queen dowager, then?”

You shake your head. “Due to her and my mother’s…falling out so many years ago, I did try to keep my distance from her.”

“One of your uncles.”

You finally nod. “Yes.”

He watches as you turn your gaze away from him, toward the treeline in the distance instead, a faraway look about you.

A muscle in his jaw feathers. “Which, might I ask?”

You look back to him, the look in your eyes that of…melancholy. “Aemond. We were close friends as children.”

It all suddenly falls into place for him then. The childhood friend, the inability to marry due to current circumstances, the refusal to name your suitor. It is because it is not just your uncle, but a man you are now meant to call enemy and traitor.

“He is the one who proposed marriage,” he states firmly.

Your eyes immediately flit back to his and his suspicions are then confirmed. “Jace cannot know. Please, promise me—”

“You know I will guard your secrets, Princess. That they are safe with me.”

You breath a sign of relief then. “Thank you.”

“You would have considered settling for remaining in King’s Landing just to be with him—before Aegon’s usurpation, that is.” The thought displeases him—you being that devoted to another that you would have stayed in a place which causes you misery, just so you may remain by his side.

You glance away, thinking. Remembering. With an ache in your chest. “We would not have remained in King’s Landing.”

Let us finally be free of our gilded cages, beloved niece.

His brows furrow, heart-rate quickening. “Surely you do not mean to imply that the two of you would have run away together?”

He cannot imagine you doing something so impulsive. More and more he begins to doubt how well he can read you.

You shrug. “It was Aemond’s idea. I had no home to miss, only family—if I followed through, that is.”

“But you said no.” He takes a small step closer, desperate for you to confirm that you did.

You wrap your arms around yourself. “I told him I needed time to consider.”

His heart drops, his hope shattering.

You continue. “But it does not matter now. Not after what they have done. There is naught left to consider in terms of…matrimony. I suppose if we had, though, that last night—just done it—fled, we would be far away from all of this by now.”

“Do you still love him?” He asks again, repeating himself from just a day ago, desperate for your answer.

Your eyes meet his once more. “I believe a part of me always will. Aemond and I—growing up—we leaned so heavily on one another. A bond like that is not so easily forgotten or forsook.”

He knows all too well. Arra.

“We were both just…different. Aegon and Helaena were betrothed, so they had one another—even if they kept their distance from each other—which made him feel much alone. Compound that with him being dragonless, and the fact that both mine own brothers and his mocked him for it.”

You sigh.

The Pink Dread.

You had given Jace an earful after that one when Aemond cried in your arms about it before going to his mother after you had consoled him, ensuring him that you thought no less of him for it—that you still saw him every inch a Targaryen.

He knew your doubts about your paternity, so he had repaid you the same sentiment in kind.

“And then there was me being the only girl in my family. And, as I said, always feeling out-of-step. My brothers being taught politics, fighting, strategy, and history, while I was taught how to smile and look pretty and recite Valyrian poetry.”

You shake your head. “My mother had attempted at betrothing Aemond and I when we were young, as well as Jace and Helaena—she offered either—both arrangements, to try and mend the rift between her and Queen Alicent, but Her Grace refused both offers. Yet, we found our ways to one another time and again anyway. He never obeyed when his mother ordered him stay away from me.”

You smile slightly. “His stubborn disposition has not much changed, even as his body did. That much has, at least, remained consistent.”

You clasp your hands. “But we grew up and apart. Things changed. The night Luke took his eye and he claimed for himself the largest dragon in the world he became more…bold. Fearless, mayhaps. We already had distance between us. Literal and figurative. The chasm only grew after what my younger brother did. Aemond and I had, at least, occasionally written to the other after we parted from the Red Keep, but correspondence from him ceased altogether after that night on Driftmark.”

You still are unsure that you believe what he told you that last evening together as he grabbed you firmly by both your arms—squeezing as he held you close to him—insisting: What fucking letters?, his one good eye desperately flitting between both of your own in a frenzied panic for an answer.

It was abundantly clear just from your private moment in the Godswood that afternoon, before Vaemond lost his head, that he had perfected a silver tongue over the years.

In more ways than one…

He does not want the answer, he knows he does not. But he asks the question anyway.

“Do you wish you had said yes?”

You stare at him for a moment, a sense of longing overtaking you. “Perhaps. It’s just…at least with Aemond…”

You sigh, searching for how to word this. “As I told you in the crypts, I have endeavored for the better part of my life to resign myself to the fate of a stale marriage. But now that the actual possibility looms ever closer, I do not know if I can withstand such a horrible future. Not even telling myself that it may be for the benefit of my family comforts me now. Just, with Aemond I would’ve had…”

You shake your head.

“What?” He presses.

“I—”

“What would he have given you?”

“Passion,” you blurt out.

He takes a step back.

“I know that it may seem strange, given it is not your custom: intermarrying relatives, but I think our relation only brought us closer. He has been there since the day I was born. Had been every day after, until my mother spirited us away. I often wonder what might have happened had we instead remained together.”

He remains silent, merely looking at you, searching for words, wondering if there are any to be had, now that he knows another still holds your heart within his hands. Hands which have your same blood flowing through their veins.

He solidifies himself then. He is not a green boy to give up so easily. The signs have aligned thus far, he will not shirk them—nor his desire for you—so quickly.

"Do you not believe you could have it with another?"

He takes a small step closer toward you.

Your brows furrow. "What?"

He leans in closer to you, attempting a different route.

You wish for passion? He shall then give it to you.

He has offered you genteelness thus far, and he fears that perhaps you have mistaken it as no more than congeniality or boyish fancy.

But it is not a boy whom stands before you, but a man with want.

A wolf with hunger.

He shall shed his sheep's skin, then, and show you what lies beneath.

He grips your chin firmly between his fingers, his dark eyes gazing into your own. "Passion."

You blink up at him, at a loss for words, your mouth growing dry.

Just then, Jace calls for you and the moment ceases to be.

Or, so you think, until Lord Stark places a firm hand against the small of your back as the two of you return to the your brother, which he refuses to remove for the rest of the day.

Atop that, he purchases for you a few gifts: a necklace of a small silver snowflake you had admired, herbs for tea, and yards of material for a new dress.

You had tried to insist that you could afford it all yourself, but he'd simply replied "it pleases me to please you, so let me". And you then had, without further quarrel.

On the return to the castle, he had ridden steadily beside you, keeping an eye on you all the while, which you had been unsure what to do with. So you'd occasionally smiled at him or laughed from nerves.

And he had eventually looked away, leaving you to then stare after him. His tall, confident form, the way of surety which he sits his steed, and the way his people look at him as he passes. With reverence.

With great admiration, you witness him addressing a great many with simple nods or calling them by name. You come to quickly realize it is not just respect which they give and feel toward him, but love. And at such young an age, at that.

They are very fortunate to have him watching over them.

“Wait for me to assist you, Y/N. Stay seated until I come to you.”

Jace’s head turns abruptly in your and Cregan’s direction, most surprised to hear his new friend now calling you, also, by your given name. He holds his tongue on the matter, however, when he sees the way you smile slightly to yourself at his words.

Cregan comes round the side of your horse and grabs you by your hips, pulling you down to him, settling you once again on flat feet.

You nervously tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. “Thank you, Cregan.”

He nods, pressing a firm kiss to the top of your head then. “It would grieve me to have you injured when I am so near to prevent it.”

He cups your cheek in his hand then. “Will you join me for lunch?”

You glance behind him, toward the direction of the Godswood across the way. “I…I actually think I’d like to pray for awhile.”

His thumb brushes against your flushed cheek while nodding softly. “I am glad you have found new Gods to confide in.”

His eyes flit away for a moment, then settle back upon you. “You know you may also do so with me anytime you may need to lighten your load, Y/N. I assure you, I am more than capable of carrying it for you.”

You nod, gently pressing a hand to his chest.

“I know. You demonstrated as much in town,” you reply, stepping impossibly closer, your body melding against his own. “It means something to me, to have someone to talk to. A great deal. I feel that I need it now more than ever.”

He presses his lips to your forehead, cupping the back of your thick head of hair as he looks down at you. “Then I am yours to confide in whenever your mind feels troubled and your worries too much to bear.”

You reach up slowly, fingers slightly trembling, and brush a stray chestnut-colored strand from his eyes, cupping his cheek in your hand as you study him; his reaction.

He slowly turns his head, settling his palm overtop of the back of your hand as he presses a kiss to your palm. “I shall leave you then. To pray.”

You wrap your cloak tightly around you, burying your nose in the soft fur round your neck and breathe deeply, taking in a familiar fragrance which warms you to your core: Cregan. Being so near him all morn has now given you—rather, your clothing—his scent.

You lull your head to the side, resting it against your shoulder and your eyes flutter closed as you smile softly while thinking of him.

Something had shifted in him this morning. He had shown you a yet unseen—to you, at least—side of himself; a side which made you see him every inch the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North as he kept close to you, spoke to you with certainty, and looked upon you with an unwavering gaze.

And you much liked it.

You open your eyes then, studying the carved face before you, leaning forward, thinking, considering, recalling.

You simply wish for that hand which Cregan had spoke to you of to aid in guiding you toward your destiny.

Whether that is here, at Dragonstone, or, mayhaps, across the Narrow Sea, with a man with one eye and an unwavering desire for you. Or elsewhere, with a suitor chosen for you, due to what he can provide your family’s side in the conflicts to come.

Your stomach twists painfully at the prospect of the latter-most being that which comes to call.

You’ve wondered over the last sennight whether you regret Aemond’s proposal or not. Regret, because it had given you hope and want for the first time in a very, very long time. And not for the same exact reasons.

You cannot even put him as the one at-fault for seeking you out, for you had done it first that morn in the training yard.

You’d watched from the parapets as he quickly dodged and swung past Ser Criston’s morningstar, hardly even recognizing him as the boy you had once spent near every waking moment with in the gardens, the halls of the keep, in hidden corners playing games that your parents were not to know about.

He was now tall, lean, his hair long and smooth, his chin and jaw looking as if they were carved from the finest marble, and styling an eyepatch—a feature which bothered you. Not just due to it being a reminder of what had horrendously been done to him by your own brother’s hand that most horrific night, but because you knew: if he was hiding it, it was due to being ashamed.

Aemond had thrown his shield aside, continuing to dodge his opponent, swinging his own sword in return, before finally besting Criston with a blade held toward his throat.

The watching audience had clapped and cheered while your brothers looked on in astonishment, Aemond eventually turning to them.

You’d been far enough above them that you’d been unable to make out the words being traded between them, until Jace and Luke had both glanced up to you, Aemond slowly turning round, leaning his head back as a smirk ghosted its way across his feline lips at the comely sight of you.

“You prefer to watch then, niece? Come down, and I will give you a private show of your very own, if you instead join me.”

You’d blanched, panicking as you looked between various onlookers, their eyes now trained on you.

You’d unseated yourself then, deciding to head elsewhere, wondering what could’ve possibly gotten into him to make such a display.

That wasn’t your Aemond. It was like he was a wholly different person.

But watching him with sword in-hand and his deft footwork, his long silver hair falling over his shoulders…it had stirred something within you.

You’d decided to head for the Godswood then, simply to be alone and collect yourself before claims were heard for your brother’s rightful seat of Driftmark. It was ridiculous such pageantry needed be convened in the first place.

And that was where he had found you, back turned to him, staring at a carved wooden face in curiosity as he prowled closer, like a cat waiting to pounce on its prey.

“Niece,” he’d called to you in High Valyrian.

You’d jumped lightly in surprise, turning round to him.

“I thought you worshipped the Seven,” he’d continued in the language, his measured steps carrying him closer.

“I do,” you had replied in Valyrian as well, suddenly unnerved by the look in his eye as he greedily gathered every inch of you.

Finally, he was standing before you, arms resting behind his back. “What is it you pray for, then, I wonder? An advantageous marriage, perhaps. One for love, I’m sure. You always did have your head in the clouds as a child.”

You had raised a brow then. “That makes two of us.”

His lip twitched in response.

“Though,” you continued. “I suppose for you it would be more literal.”

He had smirked in response. “I recently learned yours never hatched, even after taking it such a long way. I could tell you why that might be, but I fear it may offend you. So, let me instead make you an offer.”

Leaning down, he’d snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his body. “Come join me on mine own. She is the largest in all the world. Just consider what that might imply about her rider.”

You’d rolled your eyes then at the predictable reply, pulling away, heart beating like a hammer against cloth. Gods, there was no trace left of the sweet boy you had left behind here now, was there? His softness had been chiseled away until only impenetrable stone was left.

You’d put a healthy amount of distance between the two of you before looking at him once more.

“At least you have not forsaken your mother tongue,” he’d said, coming closer yet again. “Mine own is quite adept at it, among other things.”

You’d glanced away nervously at such a comment. “Yes, well, it’s important to my mother and Daemon. It was a love language of theirs at our age, so I suppose it was something they each grew quite attached to.”

“Perhaps we should follow in their footsteps with more than just mutual appreciation for a shared language, my sweet niece.”

Your brows had furrowed. “In what way…?”

He was standing before you once again now. “Tell me, have you received any prospects as of late, or am I still yet your only one?”

“Are…are you proposing marriage?” Your tone had been that of shock.

“And if I am,” he’d said, taking your waist in his arm again. “What say you?”

You had grown quiet, grasping for any form of reply.

“Hm. I’m sure it is a groom with two eyes that you prefer, then, is it not?”

You’d lightly shaken your head, thinking he must surely be bluffing. “I care not about such things. You could be missing a limb and it would not bother me. But it matters not. Our parents would never allow it, you know that.”

He’d reached up with his free hand, cupping your cheek to hold you in-place. “Then perhaps we steal away in the dark of night, married in secret by a septon. Like something out of a fairytale book, which I know you loved so dearly at one time. Our marriage consummated upon a bed of hay, in a barn where our secrets lay hidden.”

“They would find us,” you’d insisted.

But he quickly proved that for each objection you supplied, he would then hand you a previously thought-out solution.

“Let us flee across the Narrow Sea, then, for there is nothing left for me here now. Not with you having gone and hidden yourself away from me on that desolate island. Let us finally be free of our gilded cages, beloved niece. Together.”

You’d lain a hand upon his chest, wishing for just a bit of room to breathe. “You cannot be serious—”

“Mayhaps I am. Tell me—now—for the hour will soon grow late, and with it, our opportunities lessened.”

He had pressed your back firmly against the weirwood behind you.

“Aemond—”

He’d crushed his lips to yours then, cutting any further protests short, only interested in hearing agreement from your mouth or naught else.

He’d flicked the speared tip of his tongue against your lips, bidding you give him entrance and when you had gasped for breath, he had immediately seized the opportunity as his tongue came to dance against your own, his petal-soft lips smacking against yours while both his hands trailed up the curve of your waist, over your heaving breasts, before coming to tangle in your hair.

He’d then moved lower, sucking against your neck, your clavicle.

“Oh Gods, Aemond,” you’d sighed, wishing for…for anything but for him to stop.

He’d kissed back up and along your chin, gently nipping with his teeth, his hard member pressing against the soft skin of your stomach, burning you through your gown, your blood racing like the fiery lava that had flown freely through Old Valyria, at the feel of him.

He’d whispered in your ear then with husky breaths, “I see you have not forgotten our games as children we so often enjoyed together in those most private moments. Hm. How well we got to know one another then.”

He’d placed his lips back against your own then—you falling back so easily into old habits with him once more. Ones you had thought long lost to you.

You’d wrapped your arms around his neck, pouring yourself into it—into him.

You were supposed to be angry with him—something about lost correspondences—but you could not focus on such things when the two of you were like this.

Even when you were young…it became a sort of ‘playful’ response, if not eventual habit, that when either of you went to the other upset about something—anything—the most assured way to make one another’s troubles disappear was with a kiss, a touch, sometimes a whispered word not fit for children.

You would both blush madly afterward, looking shyly at one another, but always asking if the other wished to do it again.

Neither of you ever said no.

“Sister!”

The sound of Jace’s voice calling you from across the yard causes your body to jerk in panic, eyes widening as Aemond trails his hot wet tongue along your rapid pulse concealed beneath the thin, supple skin of your neck.

He had then clamped his hand over your mouth while smirking down at you. “Shh, we must be silent or he may find us in a quite…compromising position.”

You’d stared back at him in horror, terrified of what may happen if he did.

And then Aemond had cocked his head to the side, an idea coming clearly to mind.

He’d reached down to the hem of your dress then, shoving his hand beneath, and you’d whimpered, wondering what in the Seven Hells he was doing, and then you felt it—his fingers gently probing against your soaked smallclothes.

He’d hummed in pert interest. “Mayhaps I should let him, then,” Aemond had whispered into your ear. “If I do, you will thus be ruined for all, wholly belonging to me at last.”

He’d glanced around the tree toward your brother as he called your name once more. “An intriguing idea.”

You’d shoved his hand away then. “I have to go.”

“Stay. I’ve enough of you walking away from me.”

You’d filled with guilt then. Leaving had not been your decision. For so long you had hated the Red Keep, but after losing Harwin…to then be told immediately after you were to then lose Aemond, too—it had broken you.

“I’m sorry,” you’d whispered.

Then, “Jace, I’m here!”

You’d tried to step away, but Aemond had grabbed your wrist, tugging you back toward him.

“My brother wants me.”

“For he is not the only one,” he’d replied hotly.

You had yanked yourself from his grip then, unknowing of what else to do, before walking away and back inside with your twin, your uncle watching you every step of the way as you went.

And later that afternoon, when claims were made for the driftwood throne, you’d stood silently beside your mother, half shielding yourself behind Jace, and had jolted in fright as Vaemond finally spoke it aloud for all to hear—his voice bellowing through the throne room.

You’d caught movement across the room—imperceptible to any other, but not to you—Aemond had gripped the pommel of his sword, eyes trained on the offending man in question, but had quickly settled his arms behind him once more as Daemon instead slew him for his treasonous offense.

Aemond had then looked at you, as you covered your mouth in shock, with a protective gaze.

And that night, during dinner, he’d walked briskly toward you, taking Jace’s seat at your side, forcing your twin to instead sit elsewhere.

Your uncle had slid his hand up your thigh beneath the table, letting it rest there. You hadn’t shoved it away, despite knowing you should have.

Instead, you’d gently rested both of your hands atop the back of his own, fire singing in your veins at being so near him.

His lip had merely twitched in response as he leaned back with a pleased look on his face as his father spoke and various members of your family toasted one another, which had made you smile as you twined your fingers between Aemond’s.

And then Jace and Helaena had begun to dance, Alicent and her father laughing amongst themselves, your mother enjoying the festivities while your grandsire looked on, content.

Aemond had stood, loudly pushing out his chair, then silently offering you his hand, which you’d promptly taken, ignoring the sets of eyes all turning in your direction.

He’d led you into the middle of the room, taking you in his arms as the two of you began to dance slowly chest-to-chest.

Aemond had leaned down, his lips close to your ear. “Have you much thought about it? What we did in the Godswood—alone—with just ourselves and our sweet sin between us? I know I have. Would you like to know what I did about it? Mayhaps you did as well.”

“Aemond—” You’d started before being promptly interrupted.

“Come, then, let us find a dark corner so I might explore and discover the answer for myself. So I might see in what all ways you have grown into a woman, besides just your disposition.”

“Aemond—”

“Uncle. You know how it pleases me when you refer to me as such.” He’d pulled back then, staring into your eyes. “Niece.”

He had pulled you impossibly closer, a part of himself pressing against your stomach just the same as a few hours ago. “Do you see what you do to me?”

Your cheeks had warmed, as well as that most sensitive part of yourself between your thighs. “We have an audience. You must stop.”

He’d scoffed. “Fuck them. Let them watch.”

He’d pressed his cheek to the side of your head.

“How I have missed you,” he’d whispered.

You’d pulled back that time with a look of disbelief upon your features.

“You do not believe me, then?” He’d asked with his brow raised.

“Why would I?” You’d spat, anger causing tears to gather, burning your eyes.

His brows had knitted together. “You know the promise we once made: to never lie to one another. You believe me to have forgotten it? I lost my eye, not my senses, dear niece.”

“If you missed me so dearly then you would not have stopped replying to my letters.”

He had suddenly stilled. “You stopped replying to mine own. Too occupied with the lonely island you quickly began to call home, forgetting that which you had left behind.”

You’d shook your head. “No. I didn’t. I sent you at least a dozen letters which went unanswered.”

He’d squeezed your hand painfully then. “I never received such—”

You’d snorted. “Please, spare me, Aemond. You may think yourself adept with your silver tongue when it comes to every other member of this court, but not me who knows every part of you. I can still yet tell when you are lying and when—”

He had suddenly leaned in toward you, causing you to arch your back, his palm holding firm to the small of it. “What fucking letters?”

You’d glanced behind him at his mother that was watching with a most displeased expression.

And then he had turned as well, eye flitting between her and his grandsire, feeling a sting of deep-seated betrayal in an instant.

He had turned back to you, quickly cupping your cheek. “You must believe me.”

You’d blinked back tears. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

He’d flinched.

“It…it’s done. We’re different people now. We want different things.”

“I have only ever wanted you,” he’d hissed, fingers then tangling in the back of your hair painfully. “You belong with me. You are of my blood and I yours.”

You’d felt him tugging against something then.

“Say it. Tell me now. Yes. Say it.”

You’d tried swallowing, only to find your mouth as dry as the Red Waste. Gods. What if that was where the two of you ended up if you agreed?

“I…I need time.”

“You will consider it, then?” He’d asked, voice full of hope.

You had nodded gently.

He’d slipped the ribbon that’d been tied at the back of your hair from it then, taking it in-hand.

“Please give that—”

“I will return it to you when you return to me. Not a moment sooner,” he’d stated, tucking it into his pocket.

He’d stepped away then, walking back toward the table and you’d stood there full of nerves, worried someone may have heard. At the very least, they had all seen. The way he had touched you. And you him.

Then you resolved, thinking him right: fuck them, let them watch.

Later, when Aemond made his toast, he had started with you as he held his chalice high. “To my most beloved niece: how good it is to have you returned to me once again. For I have missed you so very dearly. I eagerly await our next reunion. I much hope it is…quite soon.”

You’d remained silent, blood rushing to your face and roaring in your ears as you drank silently from your cup in response, him staring at you with a smirk before finally addressing your brothers.

And in an instant you had felt a knife sheathing itself in your back as he inadvertently acknowledged them as bastards. How could he, in one breath, hope for a union between the two of you, while simultaneously shaming your family and you, by extension, in such a vile way?

Your mother had then gathered all of you, ordering you off to your rooms, but Aemond had made a direct line toward you, until Daemon stepped in the middle, palm resting over the pommel of his sword.

Aemond hadn’t even looked at him as he stepped from one side and then the other, attempting to get past him, so as to put his hands on you one last time, but Daemon had blocked him each way he went.

Finally, he had met his eyes, staring him down, before glancing back to you and humming, walking away.

Daemon had then turned to you and nodded toward a household guard. “Escort the Princess back to her room and assure my nephew stays away from her.”

And that night—that moment—had been the last time you’d seen him. Before his side of the family betrayed your own.

At least if you had agreed…the two of you would be far from all of this.

This utter, calamitous mess.

You wring your hands nervously, a lump forming in your throat. Should you have? Could…could you still? Writing to him, clearly, would do you no good. How would you go to him, then?

You sigh in frustration, accepting a difficult truth: you would not be happy being with him. You know, with a fair amount of certainty, that Aemond would take care of and protect you, but you fear the two of you would, in time, come to resent one another.

Him, for being forced to remove himself from court, where he now clearly thrives, to be shoved into hiding—what would he even think to do with Vhagar, anyway? And you, for being so far from your family—on another continent as a whole—and most likely being made to settle into a slave city. You don’t know that you could ever call such a place home.

And so here you sit yet again, wondering—just like always—where the Seven Hells you belong.

Your head snaps up when you hear small footsteps crunching through the snow, coming toward you, breaking you away from dark thoughts.

And you smile at the sight of a brown-haired little boy—mayhaps no more than a year old—toddling toward you with a sweet smile on his face.

You stand and close the distance between the two of you as you kneel down, smiling kindly at him. “Hello there.”

He giggles in response, showing you the small toy in his hands—a wolf made of wood, painted brown and white, with bits of gray.

You take it from him, looking it over and nodding.

“He is very beautiful.” You run a finger lightly down his soft, chubby cheek. “Just like you.”

You hand it back to him. “Where are your parents, sweetling?”

He steps closer to you then, wrapping his arms around your neck.

“Oh,” you say in surprise. But it took only a moment for you to do the same, holding him close with one palm against his back and the other cupping the back of his tiny head.

“Rickon!” Someone had called in the distance, but you did not hear as your chin wobbled, wondering if you will ever have this one day with your own child.

You pulled him closer then, praying to any Gods that were listening to please, please, let you at least be given that much: motherhood, and a little one who loves you, so you may have someone—anyone.

As Cregan rounds the corner into the Godswood, his patience has nearly reached the end of its rope, until he halts as he takes in the sight of the two of you: you holding his son closely, silent tears slipping down your cheeks as you press a soft kiss to the top of his head.

And in that moment, he knows that his desperate prayers from that morn have been answered. He’d asked the Gods to show him a sign if it is meant to be, and now they have.

And so, the hand leaves him, and he goes forth on his own, the path ahead clear, you standing at the end of it, waiting for him.

His Princess.

No. His Lady.

His.

You look toward him, then put the pieces quickly together. “Is this your son?”

He nods, coming to you with such a sense of calmness about him. “He is. He is already fond of you, it seems.”

You gently pull back from the adorable little boy, brushing strands from his forehead.

“That makes two of us,” you say while looking at him with warmth.

You make to stand, until Rickon takes your hand in his, then Cregan’s in his other, waiting for one—either of you—to lead him back inside.

You glance to Cregan, unsure of yourself—if he is alright with this. Until he nods gently and steps forward, you following along.

And then Rickon looks at you. “Up!”

You raise a brow. Does he wants you to pick him up?

Cregan grins and motions with his shoulder that the little boy wants to swing between the two of you.

So you grip his small hand firmly and pull upward and he giggles wildly as his father does the same, the two of you swinging him for a moment, before letting him back on flat feet. And then you repeat it again and again, all three of you laughing and smiling, oblivious to anyone else.

Cregan presses his thigh to yours as he turns to look at you.

“Jace and I discussed this afternoon venturing to the Wall in two days time. Would you be interested in joining us, Princess?”

You swallow your spoonful of soup, licking your lips, which his smoldering eyes glance to before meeting your own again.

Your brows furrow then. “I thought women were not allowed?”

He slides his palm over your thigh, taking your hand in his beneath the table, his thumb brushing over your fingertips. “You will be my guest. Where I go, no one will tell you that you cannot follow. I won’t allow it.”

You smile then. “I would love to see it, Cregan.”

He raises your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “Then it is settled.”

Once you are in your room and alone for the evening…the joy of the day quickly leaves you.

Seeing all those families in Winter Town, and Cregan with his son—you miss Harwin and Laenor both so, so dearly. So much so, that your stomach twists, your eyes burn, and your heart aches just to have either of them here, taking you into their arms and reminding you just how loved you are by them.

You wish Daemon were different. More like them. But he isn’t.

Just as you begin to feel overwhelmed—like the waves are about to take you under—you look toward the door on the right side of your room, which leads to the balcony, and calm.

You slip on the cloak Cregan gifted you and open it, cool air washing over you as you step out, wrapping your arms round yourself as you lift your head and stare up at the full silver moon in the sky, feeling closer to them.

Your eyes flutter closed for a moment as you allow the peaceful wintry night to envelop you. Snowflakes drift down, melting upon your cheeks like tears, while a soft breeze whistles through the pine trees in the distance, and a pack of wolves howl as one.

Slowly, you open them again, feeling as if you have company.

You glance over the edge of the railing and find naught but a lone man leading his horse slowly along toward the stables.

It is when you turn to your right that you find Lord Cregan leaned forward, forearms resting atop the balcony railing, watching you, his gaze unwavering.

You look at him in return, wondering how long he has been there, but don’t ask.

Instead, you each remain silent, waiting for what the other may do—refusing to be the first to speak, out of risk of ruining the intimate moment.

He then turns fully toward you, leaning back, crossing his arms. And he continues to watch. And wait.

You glance away, toward your room’s interior, feeling your body growing warm in response to his gesture of attention, then back to him, expecting him to have broken his gaze as well, but he has not.

Finally, you smile slightly, to which he nods his head gently, and you go back inside, firmly shutting the door behind you, pressing your palms and forehead against it, wondering what in Seven Hells that had been about.

You shrug off your cloak—heart beating a bit faster than normal, and your mind and body both feeling utterly awake—as you step toward the fire, even if you feel that you instead need to go back outside to cool down, despite having just come in.

You glance to the basin of water on the other side of your room, near your changing screen, and just as you go to head toward it—ready to dunk your head in it, or just dump it over yourself in general, there is a knock at the door.

You pad over to it and your heart stutters in your chest when you open it.

“May I come in?” Cregan asks in a low tone, his forearm braced against the doorframe, his other hand coming to cup your cheek.

Unable to form words, you simply step aside, bidding him entrance.

You shut the door behind you, leaning back against it as you lick your lips, looking him over. He’s dressed for bed, you deem. A black linen shirt with a plunging neckline which shows off a smattering of dark hair on his chest, and black linen breeches that hug his thighs and…elsewhere are all that clothe him.

Gods, you really should’ve dumped that water on yourself before opening the door.

He seats himself on the settee positioned before your quarter’s hearth and he turns his head slightly to the side, speaking to you over his shoulder. “Will you not sit near me then, Y/N?”

You ignore the pulse forming between your legs just as the image of him—the sound of his deep voice—as you walk silently over.

You sit down upon the plush red cushions and stare ahead at the fire, unsure what more to do with yourself.

Cregan then tugs the blanket from the back of the seat, draping it over your lap, tucking it firmly around you, before moving closer, lying his arm along the back, directly behind you, his other hand coming to tuck soft curls behind your ear.

“Are you warm enough, Princess? Should I fetch further comforts for you?”

His hand slides down your shoulder, softly gripping your upper-arm as his thumb rubs soothing circles against the bare skin.

You should’ve grabbed a shawl before sitting. Now you were only in your thin nightgown, with everything practically on display.

You shake your head then. “No. Thank you.”

He nods, his hand sliding lower until it has taken one of your own, which rests in your lap, within it.

“What were you thinking of?” He nods in the direction of your balcony. “Out there.”

You look down, sliding your other hand overtop of his own. “My…fathers.”

Those tears return once again. “When I was little, Harwin would often be away in the city, due to being Commander of the Watch. And there were times Laenor would not return to our apartments for days at a time. I just…missed them. One day, when they had both returned, I turned into a puddle of tears, begging them each not to leave again.”

You sniffle, eyes filling with tears. “Harwin kneeled down to me and gave my cheek a kiss before telling me that anytime I missed him, all I need do is look at the moon at night and he would be with me. Laenor had been there, and he had agreed. That they both would be. He also promised he would be round more—just for me if that was what I desired. That he was sorry for being busy. For giving me cause to miss him.”

Your chin wobbles. “Today…seeing those families and you…with Rickon I just,” you choke down a sob. “Oh Gods, I miss them!”

You burst into tears then, but before you can try to cover your face—try to turn yourself away—he pulls you into his chest and holds you tight. Like the moon in the arms of the sky.

You bury your face against him, sobs wracking through your body as you continue, even now—even all these years later—to grieve for them.

“I want—” You begin, but are interrupted by a sob. “I want them back. Gods, please. I can’t lose anyone else. I can’t bear it.”

He cups the back of your head, which rests against his shoulder, shooshing you, comforting you as his palm then comes to rub against your back.

You lift your head then, looking at him, into his eyes, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks as you grip his shirt tightly, hanging on, terrified of letting go. “I don’t want to be trapped in a loveless marriage. I don’t…I don’t know if I can survive it.”

He studies you for only a moment before replying. “You won’t be. I promise.”

With that, he crushes his lips to your own.

You don’t even think to pull away. Instead, you practically crawl into his lap as you wrap your arms round his neck, tangling your fingers in the long strands of his hair as you drown yourself—instead of in tears—in him.

He, who is safety and warmth and certainty. He, who is firm and unwavering. He, who you now know desires you as you do him without a doubt.

He pulls back slightly, pressing his forehead to yours as his hands grip your waist, keeping you close. “If I ask you for a bit of time, can you grant me that?”

You nod, smiling, fresh tears spilling from your eyes. “Yes.”

He brings your lips back to his own, which taste of ale and fresh air...and a promise.

#fic: hotd (cregan stark x reader)#cregan stark imagine #cregan stark x oc #cregan stark x y/n #cregan stark x you #cregan stark x reader #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #hotd imagine

947 notes · View notes

aerynwrites · 1 year

Text

Longing Pt. 2

Halsin x afab!Reader

A/N: it’s FINALLY here - sorry for taking so long with it lmao. NSFW stuff, while I love it is so hard for me to write. But here you go! I hope you all enjoy this spicy conclusion to this story!

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY || smut, virgin!Reader, oral (female receiving), vaginal fingering, PiV sex, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, Halsin being a total sweetheart by duh, fluff so much fluff and soft, aftercare (kinda?), outdoor sex, kissing, more fluff.

Part 1 || Masterlist

The early evening air is warm as it kisses your skin through the forest canopy. It’s the one thing you notice most besides the soft cloth covering your eyes, a familiar warm hand in your own being your guide through the foliage.

“Halsin, why can’t you just tell me where we’re going?” you ask, laughing through the question.

“Because, my heart, if I told you what was in store, it would no longer be a surprise,” he rebuffs, and you can practically hear the smile in his words.

You let out a little huff, but don’t argue further, letting the druid lead you through the forest by hand.

The journey is slow, with Halsin careful to guide you around any roots or rocks so you don’t stumble over the terrain, and you use the time to try and figure out where he’s taking you.

The smells of the forest fill your nose, the crunch of leaves beneath your feet, and you can even feel the last rays of the day’s light on your skin through the branches of the trees. But what gives you the most information is the sound of water roaring in the distance.

The waterfall.

Halsin had shown it to you just a few days prior, having found it on one of his outings in wild shape form. You remember vividly his barely contained excitement as he tugged you through the woods to show you, the blindfold withstanding.

You start to wonder why he would bring you back here so soon, and you cheeks heat at the first thought that comes to mind. When you had both arrived at the destination last time, you’d wasted little time stripping from your armor down to your underclothes and jumping in - Halsin not far behind you.

The druid had pulled you into his arms then, lips claiming your own as he maneuvered you both behind the waterfall’s curtain. You had almost jumped the proverbial cliff then, finally feeling comfortable enough to take that final step with him.

But he had pulled away, smiling down at you before tugging you back out into the water and recalling a story from his childhood.

As the sound of the waterfall grows ever louder, you silently hope for a repeat of those events.

However, the true intent of this trip is revealed when Halsin finally brings you to a stop, hands sitting comfortingly on your shoulders.

“We’re here,” he says, gently tugging at the knot holding your blindfold together.

The cloth falls away from your eyes and you blink to adjust to the light. Your surroundings come into focus slowly and you realize that you are near the same waterfall, but instead of by the river below it, you’re in a small clearing above it. You see the small river that feeds it running steadily by before moving to rush down the cliff side. And the view…it takes your breath away.

The clearing sits above the valley that holds your camp, letting you see for miles, the slowly descending sun casting an ethereal orange glow over the landscape.

Finally, your eyes land on what you assume is the last part of the surprise Halsin has planned.

In the middle of the clearing, just a few yards from the river’s edge, is an arrangement of dozens of furs laid out on the grass. You see a small burlap sack which you assume holds an assortment of food and drinks. And there’s even…candles. Some short, some tall - all of them spread around the space and lit, giving the moment a more… intimate feel than is already present.

Soft lips press against your temple before trailing down to brush your jaw.

“What do you think, my love?”

His words are soft, and you detect a hint of hesitance in them, as if he is worried you would reject this thoughtful presentation.

You turn around in his arms, lips spreading into a wide smile, your arms slipping around his waist as his do the same.

“You did all this? Is this where you were all day?” you ask, remembering his absence from your side this morning when you woke.

The druid nods. “When I found this place the idea immediately came to mind and I…I wanted to surprise you.”

Warmth blooms in your chest at his words, his thoughtfulness nearly knocking you off your feet.

You love this man.

“Well,” you finally say, leaning back to look up at him. “Consider me surprised. But…” you trail off, brows furrowing in question. “Is there an occasion for all this?”

Halsin pauses then, seemingly considering his words. You wait patiently as he does so, relishing in his embrace, his thumbs brushing over your hips slowly.

“I will not lie and say I have no goals in mind for this night but…” He pauses, eyes trailing over your face, hands tightening on your hips. “I just want to show you my love. In all the ways nature intended. If you will have me.”

Your heart stutters in your chest at his words, picking up on their meaning as all the warmth in your chest shifts down to pool in your belly instead.

You smile up at him again before leaning in to hug him, cheek pressed against his chest as he returns the affection.

“I’d love nothing more.”

Halsin leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips before pulling away quicker than you like, eyes shining with happiness as he leads you towards the furs.

“Let us eat first, while the sun still graces us with her presence. I gathered some of your favorites.”

The fur is soft beneath your feet as you remove your boots and move to settle onto the large makeshift blanket, Halsin right behind you. Idle talk fills the air as he begins pulling items from the bag, and you can’t stop the way your mouth waters at the presentation before you.

Various meats and cheeses, fresh fruit, wine, and even freshly baked items. Blueberry tarts. Sweet buns. This has obviously been in the works for a good while for him to find time to locate these items - a realization that makes your heart swell with adoration.

Quickly, before Halsin has finished unpacking, you lean in and press a chaste kiss to his lips, cheeks warm.

“Thank you. For all of this, for everything.”

Pausing his work, Halsin smiles, leaning over on one hand before reaching up to cup the back of your neck with the other. He brings his lips back to yours, and this kiss lasts a little longer before he pulls away to gaze at you.

“You deserve all nature has to provide, my heart. I’m simply showing you its bounty,” he tells you, leaning back to pick up one of the blueberry pastries.

He tears off a small piece before holding it out to you, eyes twinkling.

You raise a brow, unable to stop the smile that tugs at your lips. “Feeding me by hand now, too?” you ask, scooting forward to close in on the treat. “Careful, you might just spoil me.”

You take the offered bite between your teeth, lips brushing the tips of his fingers before he pulls back. The pastry practically melts on your tongue, the crust buttery and flaky - a direct contrast to the tart sweetness of the blueberry mixture.

You can’t stop the moan of appreciation that comes from you as you savor the treat, already wanting more.

Halsin smiles, tearing off another bite and offering to you again. “I would give you the moon and stars in the sky if it is what you wished,” he says, eyes crinkling happily when you take the offering again.

You let out a contented hum, scooting until you’re finally side by side with your lover, pressing a gentle kiss to his jaw.

“As nice as that sounds…I’m perfectly content with blueberry tarts and sweet buns.” You reach up to toy with one of the braid in his hair. “And you, of course.”

Halsin laughs at your addition, the sound loud and joyous as it echoes through the trees. “I am honored to be listed among the sweetest of treats. Although, I must disappoint you and say that honey might always be my first love.”

You scoff, feigning hurt as you lean away from him, a hand over your heart. “I’m wounded. I thought what we had was special.”

Strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into his lap effortlessly as he attacks your neck and shoulders with kisses, making giggles erupt from your lips.

“You know I only jest,” he tells you as he finally pulls away, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair away from your face. “You are the only thing my heart desires. The moon to my night sky and the soil to my earth. Nothing could ever compare.”

Tears burn at the back of your eyes, and you have to blink to keep them back, his words making your heart so full you feel it might burst.

Cupping his face gently, you take a moment to let your eyes roam, taking in everything about the man beneath you. His scars that some might be frightened by, but you think makes him more handsome. The curving crimson tattoo that adorns his skin. His strong brow that complements his soft hazel eyes. And his lips…lips that smile down at you so often you sometimes worry they might get stuck that way. The smile that makes crow's feet appear at his eyes and show years of laughter he’s shared.

You shake your head, pressing a kiss to each cheek before finally meeting his lips, holding him to you until the need for air arises.

“I love you, too,” you whisper, meaning every word.

————

The evening continues much like this. Eating and drinking and sharing kisses between, until you’re too full to continue. By then, night has fallen and has you both on your backs next to one another, eyes turned towards the stars as you each point out constellations and the stories behind them.

Halsin shows you the one representing Silvanus and goes on to tell you about his god and the stories behind his origin. You show him a constellation of the goddess your parents worshiped, recalling fond memories of your childhood.

A gasp falls from your lips in the middle of the story, eyes widening as you point up to the sky.

“Halsin, look, a shooting star!”

The little white light streaks across the sky, and you reach over to grab his hand in yours. “Close your eyes and make a wish!” you demand, eyes scrunching closed childishly.

You open your eyes once more only to see dozens of other stars following the first. Flashes of light igniting the sky before fading away.

You’ve never seen anything like it.

“Wow, it’s…beautiful,” you whisper.

You hear Halsin him in agreement. “It is…Nature has once again outdone itself.”

You turn to look at him, only to see his eyes aren’t on the sky at all.

They’re on you.

“You’re not even looking,” you chastise quietly.

Halsin smiles. “I’m looking at something more beautiful than even the stars.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks once more. “Halsin…”

Before your protest can continue, Halsin is moving. He rolls deftly towards you, hand never leaving yours until he pins it beneath his own beside your head, hovering over you. Your heart leaps in your chest, legs moving instinctively to cradle his hips as he settles above you.

His hair falls over his shoulders, the small braids swaying slightly in the soft breeze that whispers through the forest. His hand squeezes your own before his other comes up to cradle your face, thumb brushing over your cheek.

“I do not speak words without them being truthful - false niceties are an affront to those we care about, and I do not say these things insincerely,” he tells you, voice unusually quiet. “My heart does not stir lightly. But it does now. Allow me to show you the pleasures of the heart, my love.”

Excitement stirs in your chest before settling lower, warming your belly and making arousal thrum through your veins. You nod, reaching up to card your fingers through soft honey colored hair, before settling at the back of his neck.

He responds swiftly to your silent approval, his lips coming down to capture yours in a kiss so unlike the others you’ve shared tonight. They were soft and gentle and chaste, but this…

This is all consuming.

It’s heated, but not rushed. Firm, but not uncaring. His lips move against yours as if he’s pouring all his devotion into you, tongue teasing your lips until you grant him entrance.

Sighs and groans leave you both, swallowed by the other or lost to the night air as hands and lips start to roam.

Halsin shifts above you, moving to straddle your hips as his lips travel from yours to leave suckling kisses at your jaw, his hands moving to settle on your waist.

Your own hands fumble, not sure where to go when they want to touch him everywhere. They flit from his hips to his waist down to his thighs before running back up to tug at the hem of his shirt, fingers twitching as they itch to slip beneath the fabric.

Gods… you’ve never done this before. Is it too forward? Should you wait? Will he want to undress you first? What if-

Halsin’s soft chuckle rips you from your racing thoughts as he presses a kiss to the underside of your jaw, nipping lightly.

“You are free to touch, my love,” he says, as if reading your unsure thoughts. “I know I plan to. So, I believe it’s only fair of you to do the same.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks at his words, his promise to touch you as you want to touch him. But his encouragement works, and before you let your insecurity take over once more, you slide your hands under his shirt.

You sigh as your hands meet his skin, instantly relishing in the heat radiating from him. The fabric rides up around your wrists as you reach higher, fingers tracing each and every muscle and divot in his skin. You think you can faintly feel scars marring his flesh, some large, some small as they stretch across his skin.

You aren’t left to wonder for long though, as Halsin pulls himself from you only long enough to tug his shirt over his head and toss it to the side before leaning forward once more, covering you with his body.

You almost let out a whine, wanting more than just a second to take him in, but the thought is quickly forgotten as his lips return to you once more, this time relentless against the sensitive skin of your neck.

His teeth gently nip at you before his tongue comes behind to soothe the mark he’s no doubt left behind.

Your hands trail up from where they rest at his sides, coming to run over his chest, the dark hair tickling your palms until they eventually flit upwards to rest against his shoulders.

Expert fingers tug at the laces of your top, and your eyes fall to meet those of the man above you. He’s pulled away from you now, eyes searching your face as he continues to toy with the front of your shirt.

Your chest is heaving, and it’s only in this moment of silence do you realize the heat running through you. The way your toes curl into the furs beneath you, the tingling and pleasure settling low in your belly.

Gods, you want him.

You arch up into his hands ever so slightly. “You don’t have to ask,” you say, tone impatient, a surprise even to you.

Halsin’s brows furrow, lips turning down ever so slightly. “Of course I do.” He leans down to place a kiss to the corner of your lips before trailing a path down your jaw to just below your ear. “Your comfort is my utmost priority, so I will ask each and every time.”

His over abundance of care makes warmth bloom in your chest, disposing what little nerves may have been lingering in the back of your mind.

You smile, turning your head to capture his lips with yours as you give his shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

“I can assure you,” you tell him, pulling away from the kiss just enough to raise your arms above your head. “I’ll be most comfortable when we’re both rid of all our clothing.”

Halsin smiles, eyes twinkling with amusement. “As nature intended.”

You can’t stop the giggle that slips past your lips as Halsin lifts your shirt over your arms. You’re used to his druidic nature quips, but they still always manage to bring a smile to your face.

Halsin is quick to oblige your request, and soon you’re both bare against the furs, and that tiny tinge of uncertainty is back as Halsin’s eyes roam over you.

Without thought, your arms come up to cover yourself, but Halsin is quick to stop you in your tracks. He takes your hands in his, threading your fingers together before pressing them into the ground beside your head.

“Do not hide from me,” he whispers, leaning down to brush gentle lips over your collarbone and down lower. “You are beautiful - more radiant than the sun on a clear day and more ethereal than the moon at its fullest.”

He nips at the swell of your breast before kissing the soft skin and traveling lower, pausing between the valley of your chest to shower kisses over the softness of your stomach.

Blood rushes in your ears, heart pounding, arousal shooting to your core as you realize the path he’s taking and his most likely destination.

“Halsin…” His name leaves your lips in a gasp as his hands leave yours to follow the path his lips took just moments before.

You can feel the roughness of his palms in stark contrast to the softness of your skin, arching up into them as he reaches your breasts, kneading them in his hands.

His thumbs brush over stiffened peaks, teasing as his lips move lower, nose nudging at your navel.

“I wish to know all of you, my heart - body and soul.” His lips move against the delicate skin of your hip, breath fanning over your most intimate parts. “I have longed to taste you, to have you come undone on my tongue before I show you the other pleasures nature has to offer.”

You’ve honestly never really thought about this before, your mind always jumping to the ‘ main act,’ if you will. But now, with Halsin’s hands on you and his lips so close to where you ache for him to touch you…You find you’ve never wanted anything more.

Your hips lift from the furs involuntarily, and Halsin’s hands are quick to slide down to your hips, holding you in place gently as a chuckle leaves his lips, ghosting against the crux of you once more.

“Yes - please …” The words fall from your lips in hushed whispers, the breath having long since left you.

You don’t even know what you’re begging for. It’s not like Halsin was asking, but he must find your quiet words pleasing as another amused rumble comes from him.

He’s down lower now, his lips brushing teasingly against the inside of your knee, placing feather light kisses up along your inner thigh.

“I’ll have you begging for much more than this before the night is done.”

A shudder runs through you at his words and before a retort can even come to your mind, his mouth is on you, stealing all thoughts away. A gasp falls from your lips as your fingers move to tangle in his hair, wanting to keep him close and push him away all at once.

His tongue parts you eagerly, his nose bumping against your clit as he teases your entrance.

Arousal is hot and piercing in your core, making you even wetter than you were before, Halsin’s ministrations spurring your pleasure higher and higher with each expert stroke.

The sensation is so… foreign. Something you’ve never experienced before that has you craving more and wanting to run away at the same time. Inexperience and utter pleasure push and shove at one another, until the latter wins out as Halsin presses one finger against you, sinking in ever so slowly.

His tongue, his lips, and now his finger sinking into you makes that feeling in your belly crescendo, a feeling new to you. You don’t know whether to urge him on or tell him to stop.

As if sensing your dilemma, Halsin adds another finger, making your jaw drop open as he crooks them inside of you, brushing up against a spot that makes you see stars.

He pulls away from you then, pressing a hurried kiss to your hip, nipping at the skin there.

“ Let go for me, little one. ”

His words are the last thing you need to catapult you over the ledge you’ve never jumped before. The tension in your core bursts, the taut pressure snapping in two as your body arches into Halsin’s.

Utter euphoria rushes through your veins in a burning tidal wave, toes curling, fingers tingling from where they still clutch at his hair. You can’t even find it in you to think about loosening your grip, the pleasure coursing through you like an electric current and locking you in place.

You have nearly no idea how much time has passed before your mind comes back to you, your chest heaving with tired pants as Halsin kisses his way back up to you, nuzzling your jaw before peppering kisses to your cheeks as his hands rub soothing patterns against your sides.

“That was…” You trail off, both lost for words and still trying to get your breath back. “A lot.”

Halsin chuckles again, making you warm inside for a completely different reason as he presses his lips to yours in a slow kiss before pulling away to press another one to your temple, lips tugged up in a grin.

“Well…I did promise to overwhelm you,” he says, calling back to your conversation all those weeks ago.

You huff out a short laugh of your own, arms coming up to wrap under his own so your hands rest against the back of his shoulders.

“Consider me overwhelmed.”

That smile still on his lips, Halsin comes back down to nuzzle at your jaw again, hands trailing down your sides to rest on your thighs, guiding them to cradle his hips as he press his body more fully into yours.

A short gasp slips past your lips as you feel him against you, hot and heavy against your inner thigh. You can’t help the way your eyes glance downwards, widening at the sight of him. You hadn’t really thought to look earlier, everything else holding your attention instead, but…

Good gods above-

“ Will it fit?” The question is out of your mouth before you can think better of it, the hot swell of embarrassment creeping up your neck as Halsin laughs again, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet forest.

He pulls you closer to him, your chest brushing his own as he captures your lips again. One hand reaching up to cradle your jaw, thumb rubbing soothingly against the skin there.

When he pulls away, it’s just far enough for his forehead to rest gently against yours.

“I will go slow,” he assures you, pressing soft kisses to our brow, “but you must be my guide, tell me what pleasures you most or what causes you discomfort and I will adjust accordingly.”

Once again, despite this intimate moment, Halsin is ever the considerate, giving partner. Never putting his pleasure above yours.

You smile up at him, fingers pressing into his back slightly.

“Thank you.” You lean up, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “But I…I want you to enjoy this, too. It doesn’t have to be about just me.”

Halsin eyes twinkle in delight, one corner of his lips tugging upwards in that rare but beguiling smirk.

“Trust me, my heart - I am enjoying myself more than you can imagine. You are giving me a most precious gift, your trust - it is more than this old druid could ever ask for.”

His words once again, strike deep, your arousal and happiness all swirling into one big ball in your chest about to burst. You tug him down on top of you, relishing in the closeness of his chest against yours, his hands on your skin, his lips on your cheek.

“You have it,” you tell him, voice wavering with emotion. “I love you, Halsin. Please… I trust you.”

“I love you too, my heart.”

Halsin’s words are but a whisper against your lips before he claims them again, mounding you to him as he positions himself to press at your entrance.

He enters slowly, never breaking your kiss, swallowing the sharp gasp that leaves you. Your fingers dig into his back at the intrusion - while not painful, it is foreign; a pleasurable pressure within you that expands more and more the deeper into you he goes.

Your earlier orgasm makes his movements easier, but he still pauses when he meets resistance, a sharp intake of breath from you all he needs as an indicator.

He breaks his lips from yours, reaching up to brush a stray hair from your forehead now dewy with perspiration. His brow furrows in concern.

“Are you alright?”

You nod. It’s the truth - you are fine, there is no pain, but, gods, you already feel full and you haven’t even taken him fully yet.

“I-I’m fine, just-“ Another breathless gasp as he twitches inside you. “Go s - slow.”

Halsin obliges, working into you in slow, measured thrusts, pulling back before sinking a little deeper each time. Each movement, no matter how small - how tempered - sends a jolt of pleasure through you, igniting the flame that never really seemed to go out.

It’s like everything is amplified by a thousand with him moving against you. The way the hair on his chest brushes against your skin sends tingles down your spine. The blood rushing in your ears, the soft pants he exhales - breath warm against your cheek from where his forehead nuzzles your own. His hand feels like a branding iron against your skin where he pulls your leg up over his hip, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks behind.

You can tell he’s holding back, using every ounce of control he has to please you - to not rush this.

Your heart aches in the best way when he finally - finally - bottoms out, his hips flush against your own. His head falls to your shoulder, and the groan he lets out is sinful enough to match the moan that falls from your own lips - his name a whispered prayer in the night air.

You’re so full it feels like you can’t take a full breath without feeling him everywhere. Inside you, on top of you, his lips against your skin and his hands holding you in just the right way. You feel…made for him. Him made for you. Like pieces of a puzzle finally joining together.

You relish in the feeling of him like this. But more than that, you desperately want him to move, your hips twitching against his in silent request. Only, when he doesn’t respond do you speak up.

“I think…I’m alright, you can move,” you tell him, voice breathy.

You feel him nod against your shoulder, hair tickling the sensitive skin there as he speaks. “Yes I, ah - just need a moment.”

One of your hands runs down his back and then up again, your legs squeezing his hips gently. “Are you okay?”

Halsin laughs quietly, breath hot against your skin before pulling away, lifting one hand up to cradle your cheek as he gazes down at you in utter adoration.

“Yes, just…admiring all of nature's creations, and…considering how very lucky I am.”

You smile up at him, eyes starting to feel watery at the sincerity behind his words. “Halsin, I…I’m lucky too.”

His lips turn upwards before he leans down to place a slow, deliberate kiss to your lips before pulling away. “I care about you a great deal. More than…more than I can express. So, I will do my best to show you.”

His meaningful words end just as he decides to move, pulling out before sliding back in with one smooth thrust. The movement makes stars erupt before you as your eyes clamp shut, pleasure singing through you.

Halsin picks up his speed when you offer no complaint, skin slapping against skin as he finds a steady rhythm. His lips press haphazardly against you, moving from your neck to your collarbone, down and then back up again, as if he wants to worship all of you but doesn’t know where to start.

One of his hands plants itself in the furs beside your head, fingers digging into the soft fabric for purchase while the other falls down to grip your leg again, tugging it ever higher on his hip, allowing him to press deeper into you.

A high-pitched cry escapes your lips at the movement, the new angle letting him hit something devastating inside of you with each thrust.

Your fingers dig into his back, nails no doubt leaving behind marks as they score down his shoulder blades, desperate to pull him closer. He drops down to bear his weight on his forearm, pushing himself closer to you, pressing you into the furs beneath you as if he too can’t get close enough.

“ Oak Father preserve me,” Halsin practically growls, burying his face into your shoulder, blunt teeth digging into your skin before he speaks again. “You are so… perfect. Like you were created by the gods themselves just for me,” he groans as his hips stutter momentarily, grinding up into you. “I love you, my heart, more than words or any actions can describe.”

His words, the way he feels inside you, the way his lips smooth the dull ache his teeth left behind, it’s all too much. It’s overwhelming in the best way as that coil in your belly pulls taut again, ready to snap at a moment's notice.

Your chest rises and falls with rapid breaths, one of your hands coming up to cradle the back of his head, holding him to you as your legs finally move to wrap around his waist, heels digging into him, urging him on - silently begging him to bring you both to release.

“I love you too.” The words come out hoarse and broken.“ Fuck, Halsin I - I’m close, please… ”

He responds to your plea, his hips stuttering as he nears his own end. He turns his head ever so slightly, lips brushing your ear before placing a gentle kiss just below, whispering sweet nothings against your skin.

He reaches his end just before you do, and it brings about your own euphoria. The cord snaps just as his hips do against yours, warmth flooding you inside and out as you topple over the edge. His name falls from your lips over and over, a provocative incantation for only the night and the man above you to hear.

He works you through your release, only stilling when you’re both spent, chests rising and falling against one another, skin damp with sweat as you pull each other closer still.

Halsin tucks both arms beneath you as you slowly come down, pulling you tight against him as he rolls you both onto your sides.

Neither of you speak for several moments, instead choosing to bask in the afterglow, relishing the cool night air against your heated skin. Only when Halsin’s hand starts to trail random patterns against your back does he finally speak.

“Are you alright?” he asks, voice gentle with just a touch of concern lacing his words.

You look up at him, brows furrowed. “Did I do something to suggest otherwise?”

Halsin shakes his head, reaching up to tuck a piece of hair back from your face. “No, but I…I know I am…more than most. I just wanted to ensure there were no…lingering discomforts.”

You shake your head. Other than the dull ache between your thighs, which you do not regret…there’s not a scratch on you. And you couldn’t feel better.

“No discomforts here,” you tell him, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. “None that I’m going to complain about, anyway.”

Halsin lets out an amused huff before rolling once more so you rest on top of him, ignoring your gasp of surprise. “Good,” he says, reaching up to run warm hands down your sides before resting on your hips, eyes meeting yours once more. “I truly meant it when I said this was a gift. You are a gift, the greatest treasure Silvanus could have ever bestowed upon me.”

Halsin reaches up to take one of your hands that rests on his chest, bringing it up to press a chaste kiss to your knuckles. “You honor me by choosing to be by my side.”

Heat creeps up your neck, and words fail you at first. So, you lean forward to hide your face against him, nose brushing just below his ear as you nuzzle into the space between his head and shoulder.

“I’ve never…” You trail off before finally finding your words. “I’ve never trusted someone enough to…take this step with,” you admit, arms moving to wrap around him, hands tucking between his back and the furs beneath him. “Thank you for loving me enough to show me what it's like.”

Halsin’s arms wrap around your waist, holding you to him as his lips brush your temple.

“The pleasure was all mine, my heart. I love you more than the moon loves the stars and the sun loves the earth.”

You smile against him, eyes suddenly feeling heavy, sleep tugging at the edges of your consciousness. “That’s a lot of love…might take a while to get it all out.”

You feel his chest rumble with laughter. “That just means more nights with you in my arms.”

You hum in agreement, finally letting your eyes fall shut. And, as Halsin’s arms hold you tight, you both fall asleep under the stars, nature surrounding you.

#Halsin x reader #halsin x fem!reader #Halsin bg3 #bg3 x reader #bg3 #halsin

2K notes · View notes