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sagesolsticewrites · 4 months

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religion's in your lips, the altar is my hips

in which Steve takes care of you after a bad day

- including but not limited to: praise kink, hair pulling, oral (f receiving), Steve lowkey being a service dom 👀

(this is. very self-indulgent. very veryyyyyy self-indulgent. you have been warned <3)

a/n: huuuge shoutout to @upsidedownwithsteve's (aka Emmy, Queen of Smutty Sunday <3) most recent smutty Sunday event for giving me inspiration to write my very first smutty fic! Obligatory disclaimer that yes, this is my very first smut fic ever, I am an ✨asexual virgin✨ please manage expectations accordingly, yada yada yada. Also so many hugs to my bestie Kenz @fangirl-imagines for looking this over before I posted it ☺️ Kenzie has some incredible fics, go support her y'all!

Word count: 2870

Warnings: THIS IS SMUT. MINORS BEGONE. 🔞

Please like/rb if you enjoyed! 🤍

You let yourself into your apartment with a sigh, shoulders relaxing the tiniest bit as you step over the threshold into your home and finally toe off your heels.

Bypassing the darkened kitchen and empty living room, you open the door to your bedroom, where you knew you’d find a shirtless Steve in the middle of his post-work ritual of playing some game on his computer.

He looks up as you enter, face brightening with a smile as he greets you.

“Hey baby, how was—”

In lieu of an answer, you flop face first onto the bed with a groan.

You can hear the smile fade from his voice as he hisses sympathetically, “That bad, huh?”

You lift your chin so it’s propped up on the pillow as you explain your terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day.

“You know that project that Marie was working on? She asked me for help on it, and I gave her some pointers, but she said she still wasn’t really understanding it so I ended up having to do all of it for her. And she’ll probably take all the credit for it, too.” You grumble, rolling your eyes, “And we had that meeting with our new clients, and my boss basically volun-told me to take notes for it, even though that’s really the liason’s job, and then she criticized me for not taking as detailed notes as Lauren even though that’s literally Lauren’s job! And she was there, she could’ve taken the notes, I don’t even—”

You shake your head in exasperation, shifting topics, “And then I didn’t even have time for lunch because Sara wanted me to help train the interns, and…” You end your rant with a groan, letting your face drop back into the pillow. “‘M just. So tired.”

“Sweetheart…” Steve’s voice turns soft as the pillow underneath your head, and he gets up from his spot at the desk to climb onto the bed, pulling you into his arms.

You curl into him instinctively, your head finding that space in the crook of his neck that feels like it was made for you personally, one hand coming up to toy with the curls at the nape of his neck, tracing patterns along the freckles and moles dotted along his skin.

“What can I do to help, honey?” Your boyfriend asks, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Jus’ wanna… I dunno, just. Stop.” You mumble against his shoulder, shrugging and curling further into him.

He hums in understanding, grabbing the hand that’s currently drawing invisible hearts around the moles near his collarbone and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“You’ve been doing so much for everyone today,” he murmurs, voice layered with understanding and adoration as he leans in and peppers tiny kisses over your forehead, your nose, your eyelids, and you relax even more as his voice washes over you, “Worked so hard.”

He pulls you closer, scattering kisses all over as you finally release all the tension you’ve been holding, letting out a sigh and shifting in his arms to face him. You don’t realize you’re straddling him until you’re pressed nearly flush against him, his arms wrapped securely around your waist.

His lips brush over every part of your face, down to your neck and then back up as you become putty in his hands, murmuring soft words of praise to you the whole time.

“You just need to stop working now, huh? Need to stop thinking,” His lips draw a path to your ear, where he whispers, “need to let someone else do all the work, huh, baby?”

A shiver runs down your spine, constantly in awe of the power just his voice has over you. His hand settles on your hip, a comforting, grounding weight while his other hand brushes a strand of hair back from your forehead. His lips work their way back down over your cheek, stopping to hover just over yours, mouths brushing together as he murmurs in a voice like silk, “Is that what you want, honey? Want me to take care of you?”

Warm chocolate eyes meet yours, soft, caring, always ensuring he has your consent before he does anything.

At your near-imperceptible nod, he drags his hand up to cup your chin, thumb dragging along your bottom lip.

“Need your words, pretty girl.”

“Yes,” you breathe, and that’s all the confirmation he needs to surge up and capture your lips with his.

As you brace yourself on his shoulders, his hands move to the thin strip of exposed skin where your shirt has ridden up. Your kisses become hungrier, ignoring your need for oxygen in favor of Steve’s plush, kiss-swollen lips, and he slowly drags up the hem of your shirt, breaking the kiss briefly to get your permission.

At your eager nod, your shirt is off and tossed to some corner of the room, his mouth eagerly on yours once more.

You can feel exactly how much he’s enjoying this through his sweats, and you instinctively begin to rock in his lap, dragging your increasingly damp core over his.

His hands grip your hips, the familiar feeling sending a thrill through you… but rather than guiding your movements like he normally would, he holds them still.

You pull away, brow furrowed, but before you can voice your confusion, he flips you onto your back, moving to hover over you in one smooth movement.

“I told you,” he murmurs against your lips in a tone that sends a pulse of scorching heat to your core, “I’m doing all the work, sweetheart.”

The whimper you let out is muffled by his lips on yours once more, his wandering hands and hungry kisses making short work of turning you into a moaning, gasping mess.

“Steve,” you whine out his name as his lips travel down to your neck, and you can feel his smile against the hollow of your throat before he returns to licking and sucking dark patches into your skin, the occasional use of his teeth making delicious shivers shoot up your spine.

“What is it, sweetheart?” He mumbles against your skin, trailing his lips along your collarbone. His eyes meet yours, a mischievous twinkle mixed with the searing heat in them turning you molten as he asks, “What do you need?”

Unable to find the words, your hand finds his hair instead — God, that hair — and begins pushing him down towards where you really want him.

“‘M gettin’ there, honey, I promise,” he grins, pausing your efforts to press a kiss to the valley between your breasts, “Lemme take my time and I promise it’ll be worth it, ok?”

He reaches up to toy with the strap of your bra— a simple nude thing you could get away with wearing under a white shirt at work— a questioning look in his eyes answered by a furious nod from you.

He makes short work of the clasp, and that really should not be as hot as it is, but— oh who are you kidding, even his breathing is insanely hot right now.

You throw your head back as he presses kisses all over your chest, mumbling against your skin the whole time about how pretty you are, just gorgeous sweetheart, God, I can’t believe I get to do this for you…

Your head goes deliciously fuzzy with the praise, and you can’t quite form words so all you can do when he takes your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it for good measure, is let out a keening “Ohhh” and instinctively tighten your grip on his hair.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Steve groans, the noise sending heat racing through your body, and you grin knowing you were the one to elicit it, “You sound fucking incredible.” He murmurs more praise as he turns his attention to your other nipple, giving it just as much attention and eliciting more gasps and moans and whines from you before he continues his journey south.

You lift your head and watch as Steve Harrington fucking beams when he reaches your stomach, your pouch poking out slightly more than you’d like over the waistband of your jeans.

He meets your eyes, his own swimming with sincerity as he begins to scatter kisses over your midsection.

“You”

Kiss

“Are”

Kiss

“Fucking”

Kiss

“Stunning”

Kiss

When it seems like he’s covered every single inch of your exposed skin in kisses, remaining stubbornly focused on your torso when what you really want is for him to be significantly lower, he meets your eyes as he plays with the waistband of your jeans, once again wordlessly asking your permission.

And once again, your furious nodding is all the consent he needs to peel your jeans off and toss them away.

“Sweetheart.” He breathes, wide eyes on where your jeans once were, “Honey. Baby. Are you trying to kill me?” He says in a strangled voice at the sight of your simple lacy panties in a deep, wine-purple color— a color Steve once drunkenly confessed was his favorite, though he told anyone who asked he preferred red.

You bite your lip in an attempt to contain your grin, “I thought you might like those.”

“Like them?” He murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to your inner thigh, looking up through lidded eyes to meet your gaze as his own darkens, “I never wanna see you in anything else again.”

Your toes curl, and your breaths become shallow in anticipation as he scatters slow kisses all along your inner thighs, carefully spreading them apart, stopping when he gets to the edge of the purple lace.

He holds your gaze, gauging your reaction as instead of pulling them down over your hips to toss to yet another corner of the room, he simply…

Pulls.

The lace.

To the side.

You barely have time to let out a quiet, shaky, “Oh my God,” at the ravenous look on Steve’s face before his mouth is on you and you forget how to think, you forget how to breathe, you forget everything except Steve.

Let it be known: Steve Harrington knew how to eat a girl out.

He licks a thick, fat stripe up your center, gathering the moisture collected there before darting up to flick at your clit, an action that has you gripping the sheets like a lifeline, a stuttering moan that sounds vaguely like your boyfriend’s name escaping from your lips. His arms hook around your thighs, pulling you close in an attempt to keep your hips grounded, and he continues a few more passes of the same lick, flick pattern until you’re a writhing mess underneath him, his current strategy both too much and not enough.

He pauses just long enough to meet your eyes, pressing a single kiss to your clit that sends a jolt of pleasure up your spine, before diving in.

His tongue finds your entrance with ease, the way his nose pushes through the thatch of wiry hair to nudge at your clit providing extra stimulation as he makes short work of making you fall apart. His tongue swirls through your folds as he lets out a languid moan at your taste.

“So fuckin’ good for me, sweetheart.” He mumbles against your core, “So perfect, lettin’ me take care of you. This is all you needed, huh?” His eyes flick up to meet yours as you shudder and moan underneath him, struggling to keep your eyes on him.

He licks another languid path through your folds, savoring your taste, before continuing, his voice muffled as he licks and sucks at your entrance “Jus’ needed me to give you a break, needed me to tell you it’s okay to turn off your brain and jus’—” Steve punctuates his last words by wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking gently “—be a good girl for me.”

The combination of stimulation to your clit and Steve’s words has your hips arching off the bed, despite your boyfriend’s best efforts to keep you still. You can feel him grin against you and let out a dark chuckle at the moan you let out at his last words in particular, the way your hand tightens and pulls at his hair all the evidence he needs.

Still, he asks you, though he doesn’t quite expect a coherent response.

“Aw, sweetheart. You like it when I call you a good girl? You like bein’ a good girl for me?” He purrs in a voice like syrup, lips still brushing your folds.

“Fuck, I— yes, Stevie,” you whine brokenly, gently gripping his hair in an attempt to bring him closer to where you want him, whimpering softly, “Stevie please.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he murmurs, scattering kisses frustratingly just outside your core, “Jus’ trust me, I gotcha.”

You resist the urge to move, to just grab him and put him where you want him, even as you let out a frustrated whine.

Just as your patience is about to run out, you feel him smirk against you before diving back in, holding your legs apart as he sloppily licks and sucks at your entrance, his tongue diving deep inside you.

You let out a gasping moan as he attacks your core, practically clawing at his hair in an attempt to pull him impossibly closer, your brain going fuzzy and then melting entirely when you hear the endless praise falling from his lips as he eats you out.

“So good for me sweetheart, just perfect— shit, do you have any idea how good you taste?” He groans against you, his thumb coming up to gently circle your clit as his other hand moves to splay flat over your hips, holding you as still as he can, “Could do this all fuckin’ day, god you’re amazing sweetheart—”

Then he clamps his lips around your clit and moans, and you’re fairly certain you’re going to die of pleasure, both your hands flying to grip his hair and yank as your back arches off the bed, your head falling back against the pillows, mouth open to let out a high, keening moan.

When you come back to your body, Steve is back to gently licking through your folds, and your hands claw at him, needing him to be closer.

“Steve,” you whine, “Stevie please, ‘m so close, I jus’— I need— please, baby.”

As your words turn into incoherent moans and pleas, Steve is quick to assure you, thumb returning to playing with your clit as he mumbles against you, “I know, honey, I know what you need and ‘m gonna give it to you, I promise. Been so good for me today, taken such good care of everyone, now it’s your turn, ‘m gonna make you feel so, so fuckin’ good, baby—”

He dives into you once more, thumb rhythmically circling your clit as his tongue hits every spot inside you in a pattern that has you turning to liquid underneath him, your legs hooking together behind his back to keep him right there, and your vision goes white as Steve brings you towards your release.

You let out a cry as you hit your climax, and Steve dutifully guides you through your orgasm, murmuring soft praises the whole time.

“Such a good girl for me,” he murmurs as he pulls away, mouth glistening and pupils dilated wide. Your hand cards through his soft brown waves, chest heaving as you catch your breath. Steve brushes gentle kisses to your inner thigh, your hipbone, your stomach, following a path up to capture your lips with his own, swallowing the contented sigh you let out.

He pulls away, meeting your gaze with a smile as he pecks your nose.

“Feelin’ better?”

You hum contentedly, “Much.” Your thumb comes up to stroke his cheek as you pointedly glance down, “What about you?”

Steve lets out a mock-annoyed groan, forehead coming down to rest on your shoulder.

“Baby, we just went over the whole thing about you not needing to take care of everyone.”

He lifts his head, meeting your gaze, “Seriously, though,” he presses a kiss to your cheek, rolling to lay next to you and pulling you into his chest, “I’m fine. This was about you, and I’m so glad I could help take care of you for once.”

You cup his cheek, turning his face to yours. You hope he can see every sincere, tender thought in your expression as you simply say, “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart. You know that.” He murmurs in response, lips quirking up into a small smile as he turns to press a quick kiss to your palm.

“So,” he says, fingers stroking through your hair, nudging your eyes closed, “nap time and then appetizer dinner? We’ve got mozzarella sticks and some chicken tenders I can throw in the oven.”

You grin, despite already being half-asleep, “That sounds perfect.”

You can feel his smile as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“I love you most.”

“I love you infinity.”

“I love you infinity plus one”

“I love you—”

“Alright, let’s call it a tie, babe.”

Tagging a couple friends! Hi besties @austin-butlers-gf @sassy-ahsoka-tano @dontbesussis

#steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things smut #my writing #sage writes

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 9 months

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Fever

Nathan Bateman x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info

Summary: “You’ve heard of a good night orgasm, right? Well, this is a get well one.” Nathan's sick and has a pretty strange idea for a cure.

A/N: Nathan brainrot so big atm guys. Nathan and Reader are already in a relationship.

Warnings: oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, banging when someone's ill, swearing, typos, overuse of italics, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 2870

________________________________

Nathan was surprisingly good when you were ill. Attentive, caring, considerate.

You’d asked him about it once, his offhand reply being a mumbled: “If there’s a bug in a system, you fix it, you don’t just wait and hope it’ll sort itself out.”

When Nathan was sick however, it was a completely different story.

He was absolutely god fucking awful to deal with.

Grumpiness up to eleven. Snapping at everything and refusing to slow down or take a break. Working himself to the point of exhaustion and then further still.

It was idiotic. But it was Nathan.

So when you walked into the living room to see him on the sofa, curled up and looking washed out it was a bit unexpected.

He definitely wasn’t hung over, hung over Nathan was a sight to behold. Constantly trying new concoctions and cures that you were sure wouldn’t have been out of place in a history book about medieval torture.

You paused, a little frown forming on your forehead. Uncertain at first if he was sleeping or not, and whether to disturb him.

He seemingly made the decision for you. “Baby?” He flopped his hand onto the back of the sofa, vaguely in your direction, and groped around a little, his eyes still closed.

He sounded weak, drawn in, and sorry for himself. Very unlike the Nathan you were used to.

You moved to him quickly, taking his hand and squeezing before leaning down and placing your cool hand on his feverish forehead.

He let out a little sigh of contentment.

“You’re sick.” You muttered, kissing his temple.

“No.” He grumbled. There he was, there was your Nathan. He kept his eyes closed.

“Uh huh.”

“Uh uh.” He tugged on your hand lightly, moving it closer to his chest. “Not sick.”

“What’s wrong then?”

“Bateria, or viruses. Invading my bloodstream.”

“So… sickness then?”

He cracked open his eyes to give you a look. “Come lay down with me?”

The puppy dog expression nearly got you, Nathan was very good at sweetness when he wanted something.

“So you can get me sick?” You chuckled.

“Yes.” He pouted.

“Are you admitting you’re unwell?”

“Just lay down with me.” He grumbled, his usual sarcasm didn’t quite have the same bite when he looked as if he might nod off at any moment.

“Okay.” You pretended that it was a huge effort on your part, moving to sit. But Nathan shifted quickly, a little too quickly, as small multi-colored spots danced in front of his eyes. And urged you into laying down flat on your back, your head against the armrest, before snuggling up to you.

He laid his head on your chest and breathed out deeply, closing his eyes once more.

You put your arm around him, just nudging him a little closer and he let out a little murmur of comfort.

He nodded off almost immediately, breathing softly against you.

With the sudden technical skill of a surgeon, you managed to fish your phone out of your pocket without disturbing him and spent the better part of 40 minutes browsing mindlessly.

Nathan shifted, groaning a little as he moved. He stayed quiet for a few seconds and you thought he had fallen back asleep before he sighed again and looked up at you. Blinking his eyes heavily.

“What time is it?”

“Nearly 12:30.”

“Ugh.” He rolled his eyes and buried his face back into your chest. “I feel like shit.” His breath was hot.

“You look like shit too.”

“Thanks.”

You rubbed his back and smiled. “Can I get you anything?”

“No.” His voice was still muffled from where he was pressed against you. “A new body maybe.”

You leant a little closer and whispered conspiratorially. “That can be arranged.”

Nathan sniggered into you and stretched, flopping his left leg over both of yours.

The press of his hard cock against you made you pause.

You said nothing for a moment, just waiting until he slowly started to grind against your leg. A subtle action, seemingly trying to be sneaky about it.

“Nathan.”

“Hmm?” He said, keeping his head tucked into your chest.

You put your phone down. “What are you doing?” You said in a sing-song voice.

“... Nothing.”

You pressed your leg against his crotch and he moaned loudly, his fingers digging into your skin.

“Sure, sounds like nothing.” You tease.

He groaned and looked up at you, a small pout on his lips. “It’s not my fault.”

“Isn’t it?”

He grumbled quietly, shifting again in a pretense moving so that he could prop himself up on his elbow. But really using it as an excuse to grind up against you again.

“No,” he sulked, his cheeks a little flush. “It’s not. Can’t help it.”

“Can’t you?” You teased, unable to stop smiling.

“No, not when you’re all close and, ugh,” he groaned, burying his head between your breasts and pushing them up against his face, “these are right here.”

You laughed loudly. “Am I that distracting?”

He nodded. “Very.”

You chuckled again. “Sorry.”

“I was dreaming about you.”

“Yeah?”

“Hmm.”

“Good dream?”

He moaned softly and shifted again, settling fully on top of you and weakly rubbing his dick against your thighs. “Yeah.”

You grinned. “I’m not fucking you while you’re sick Nathan.”

He let out a low groan of frustration. “I’m not sick.”

“Yes you are.”

“Finnneee, I’m sick, but fucking you would cure me, I’m sure of it.”

You can’t stop giggling at the weak lamenting tone he’d quickly adopted.

He grinned, chuckling before he quickly schooled his face back into a pout and puppy dog eyes. “Pretty please?”

You laughed harder.

“Don’t you love me?” He batted his eyes at you.

The fit of giggles wouldn’t stop.

“Come on,” he sat up a little, leaning closer so that his face was near yours. “You’ve heard of a good night orgasm, right? Well, this is a get well one.”

“A get well orgasm?”

“Yeah, you know? Releases endorphins, makes your white blood cells work faster, kills bacteria…” He gave you a lopsided grin. “I’m convincing you, aren’t I?”

“I’m glad you’re not a biologist.”

He purposefully poked out his bottom lip. “Please? I’m sick.”

“Nathan.” You grinned, enjoying his little display far more than you would ever let on.

“You’re meant to take care of me.”

“And, why is that?” You lean closer to his face, nearly brushing your lips against his and moving back slightly when he tried to close the gap.

He groaned a little, wiggling his hips between your legs and you let him. “Because you’re kind, because you love me.”

“I don’t know about that.” You teased.

“Because you love me.” He repeated, giving you a little glare. “Because it’ll help, and…” he sighed, purposely dropping his shoulders and failing his arms a little.

This was too good. Far too good. Something about his slightly forlorn brattiness was just so endearing. “And?”

“And I’m really fucking horny okay? Like so horny, like just let me rub against you and I’ll cum in my pants and take some medicine and go to sleep, I promise.”

You bite your lips together and smile. “You’d actually take some medicine?”

He nodded. Nathan not shutting down the idea of taking pills was a feat on its own.

“Alright.”

His whole face lit up. “Alright?”

You laugh and nod. “Yeah, but you gotta behave, take the tablets, and rest, yeah? Work on getting better.”

He nodded quickly. Seemingly finding new energy as he sat up a little.

“Okay,” you began to move your legs, intending to get up from the settee and drop to your knees.

“No, no, no,” Nathan hooked his hand behind your knee, urging you back to your previous position. “Please, stay here, hmm? I want to…” He pulled at your waistband softly.

You took pity on him. “Do you want these off?”

“I want it all off.”

You sighed exasperatedly, an over the top sound for his benefit only. But you smiled as you did so. Quickly, you began to pull off your clothing. “You sure you’ll be okay, I don’t want you passing out or dying on me.”

Nathan sniggered. “I’ll be fine.”

He helped you out of your top and pulled your trousers off your feet before dumping your clothes in a pile on the floor.

He let out a satisfied groan and kissed your breasts, nuzzling into your skin happily.

You laughed as his beard tickled your skin.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” he mumbled, breaking away from the embrace only to pull off his hoodie.

“The point of this is to make you feel good.”

He tutted and rolled his eyes, “yeah, yeah.”

“Don’t ‘yeah, yeah’ me, Bateman, I’ll-”

With a surprising speed, he leant up and kissed you hungrily, slipping his tongue into your mouth and grinding his still clothed erection against your core.

He broke the kiss, grinning wildly when you moaned.

You scowled. “Trying to give me your germs?”

“Oh, you’ve already been exposed to them, baby.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to be exposed to them anymore,” you playfully swatted at his arm.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grinned before gently taking your nipple into his mouth, sucking on it softly before lapping at it with board flat licks.

You squirmed under him, your thighs clenching around his waist instinctively. Your breathing hitched and you tried to get a hold of yourself. “What’s with all this ‘yeah, yeah’ attitude?”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, scooting further down your body. “You’ll have to fuck it out of me I guess.” He gave you a perfectly innocent smile before diving between your legs.

You didn’t know whose moan was louder, yours or Nathan's, the second his lips and tongue touched your core.

He laps broad strokes through your folds, ending with a swirl of his tongue around your clit before repeating the whole process over again. He groans with each lick, unable and unwilling to stop himself from grinding against the settee as he sucked your clit into his mouth. Humming happily when you buck and arch up against him.

He looked up at you, watching your face as you moan with his large doe eyes blown wide with lust.

Teasingly, he dips his tongue into your heat, growling from deep within his chest as new wetness flows out of you. He slides up again, achingly slowly to your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Slowly he circles it twice with the very tip of his tongue, drawing out the sensation as you gasp and moan under him, before attacking you with long, wide licks fully against your clit. Repeating the motion again and again and again until you can’t even begin to think of anything else.

“Nathan,” you moan, your thighs shaking, your breath catching in your throat as you beg him to go faster, harder, anything. “Please.”

He ignores you, seemingly content to continue his onslaught at the exact same pace and firm pressure. But his eyes twinkle as you plead.

You try to buck up against him quicker, moving your hips so you can reach that sweet peak that’s so tantalisingly close.

Nathan predicts your movement, knowing all your moves, and leans up slightly with every thrust, only allowing the same constant press and glide of his tongue against you.

“Nathan, Nathan, please,” you implore him as your release creeps closer, sparking up your spine and down your legs.

He keeps his pace, watching you with glee as he slowly pushes you over the edge.

You cry out loudly, your thighs clamping around his head as he continues to lap at you. Pleasure washes over you as your cum soaks into his beard. He allows himself a split second of a pause to savour it, moan quietly at the taste, before his eyes are back open and he’s continuing those long, long licks.

As you start to come down your legs relax and Nathan pushes them lightly back down, still not taking a break in his actions.

“Nathan,” you whine, tingles of oversensitivity running over your clit.

He keeps his eyes on your face, hungry and wild. “Uh uh,” he mumbles against you, still licking.

You squirm, trying to get away from his tongue even as pleasure starts to build up again. You know that if you really wanted him to stop all you had to do was say the word and he would.

This time your orgasm builds faster, hardly waiting until your first has finished.

You rock against his mouth, moving with him as he sneaks his hand under your ass and starts to urge you to chase his tongue.

He presses into you harder, pushing at you with his hand until you’re nearly curled up on yourself. And he doesn’t stop, doesn’t give you pause as he pushes you closer and closer, relentless in his need to get you to cum on his tongue one more time.

Your moan reaches an even higher pitch as you grasp at the cushions and sofa, trying to gain any traction to thrust up against him harder.

Nathan takes his cue, quickly latching onto your clit and sucking, flicking the tip of his tongue lightly over the very tip and you scream.

Pleasure burns along your nerves, whiting out your vision as you buck against him uncontrollably, cumming so hard you see stars.

He moans, continuously sucking and following your movements, allowing you to rut against his face however you want as you cum.

The next thing you know he’s kneeling between your open legs, his beard satuatured with your wetness.

He suddenly doesn’t look ill at all, and you begin you wonder if you’ve been had.

For a second he watches your chest rapidly rise and fall as your breathing slows before he is taking himself in hand and notching the head of his fat cock at your entrance.

His eyes flick up to your face for a second, silently asking.

You nod, too exhausted to do much more, and then he’s pushing in.

You gasp, the stretch of him is always a little surprising at first, especially when you’re spread this wide.

Nathan bites his lip, easing in slowly and gazing down at you like you’re a banquet set out just for him.

He slides in deeper, inching himself in and running his hand up the back of your left thigh, pressing firmly and helping to angle you so your leg is flush against his stomach and chest.

You let out a little whine as he bucks, finally sheathing himself completely.

Nathan gasps, his eyes rolling back as your walls squeeze him, and holds on tightly to the leg pressed to his chest.

He doesn’t start to thrust harshly like you expect, doesn’t piston in and out of you, instead, he starts to grind slowly, barely pulling out and keeping you pressed tightly against him.

His fingers dig into your leg, his other hand going down to softly circle your throbbing clit as he rocks and buries his face into your calf.

You can tell he’s close, the way his stomach muscles tense, how his eyes are screwed shut. You move a little, leaning up slightly so you can meet his deep grinds. For a second, you open your mouth to speak, intending to tell him that it’s okay, that he should just let go and cum like you know he’s desperate to.

But he moves his leg forward, changing the angle he’s kneeling at and you sob in pleasure as his head hits perfectly deep.

You fall back a little with the intensity, unable to control yourself as he moves and does it again.

His eyes are open ever so slightly now, watching you with his bottom lip between his teeth and whimpering as you fall apart under him.

“There?” He whispers and you nod, sobbing as he repeatedly grindes into you, pushing firmly against the same spot over, and over, and over.

You’re unable to form words, unable to think as he just keeps rocking, pushing you further and further into the sofa, splitting you open so completely and shattering your sanity.

You don’t know how much more of this you can take, pleasure running like a live wire along every nerve so that it’s almost painful, almost too much to bear.

Nathan lets out a deep groan, slipping ever so slightly forward so that he has to put his hand next to your head, almost caging you in. His eyebrows pinched together in ecstasy. “Baby…”

And that’s it. That’s what throws you over the edge.

You grab hold of his shoulders as you cum, hard. Surprised at the suddenness and intensity. The force of it robs you of words, of breath as you shake and tense, your toes curling as you clench down on his cock and milk him for everything he’s got.

Nathan cums a second later, watching you fall apart and moaning out your name as he feels you pulse around him. He keeps himself fully in you, cumming as deeply as he can before pressing his forehead to yours and breathing deeply.

“I feel better.” He whispers, worn out and exhausted, before he kisses you.

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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#nathan bateman #ex machina #nathan bateman x reader #x reader #nathan bateman x you #x you #nathan bateman x female reader #x female reader #nathan bateman x f!reader #x f!reader #nathan bateman x fem!reader #x fem!reader #my writing #fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

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clockwayswrites · 1 year

Text

Like Betta Fish Do Part 19

Chapter 15 when on Ao3, Masterpost WC: 2870 CW: WARNING THESE ARE SPOILERY Canon Typical Violence, Blood, Injury,

Danny knew he was smiling like a love sick fool when he pulled back from the kiss, but he really didn’t care. It was still far to nice to be able to kiss Jason whenever he wanted: like when Jason was picking him up for their date.

“So, where are we going and what’s with the backpack?” Jason asked as he handed over the spare helmet.

“Nope.”

“Nope?”

“Nope, you don’t get to know where we’re going,” Danny said.

The flat stare he got in response was pretty impressive on Jason’s part. “Fish, I’m the one driving.”

“That you are,” Danny agreed. While Danny didn’t exactly inherit his dad’s driving habits, it was still better that Jason was the one behind the wheel (or the handle bars in this case).

Jason waited a long beat before giving an exasperated sigh. “Then I need to know where we’re going.”

“Your helmet bluetooths to your phone, right? I’ll pull up the directions and press go. You just have to follow them.”

“The directions it gives for the city are shit.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Then I’ll tell you the road we need to be on outside of the city and you can ignore it until then.”

“We’re leaving the city?” That seemed to get Jason’s interest at least.

“Yeah, so have a little sense of adventure and trust me, okay? I think you’ll like it.” Danny hoped Jason would like it. He couldn’t top the museum date, but he hoped this at least would still be a good one.

“Course I trust you, koi,” Jason said and followed up his words with a light kiss.

“Koi?”

“They’re good luck fish.”

“Oh, Ancients do you have the wrong person for that,” Danny said, laughing as he put on his helmet. “Now hand over your phone so I can get us going.”

“Bossy.”

“You like it,” Danny said as he pulled up the route to the small town.

“Damn right.”

The whole drive was a little magical, which Danny hoped boded well fro the rest of the date. The trees were in full fall color, the wind on the road wasn’t too cold yet, and, best of all, Danny got to spend it pressed up against Jason’s back.

There was no doubt that they were in the right place as soon as the passed the cheerfully painted wooden sign on the edge of town and the large banner next to it declaring it was the Fall Harvest Festival that weekend. The sign spanning the first set of streetlights in the old fashion downtown didn’t hurt either. Or all the stalls and people milling about. Or the smell of food.

“A harvest festival?” Jason asked, the words slightly distorted by the helmet.

“They have a market place set up and live music and food,” Danny explained quickly. Please, please like it. “But it’s really just good timing to make the trip worth it. Really we’re here for somewhere specific.”

“I don’t suppose I get to know what that is either?”

“Nope! I thought we’d grab lunch and something to drink first before we make our way there.” Please think the plan was okay.

“Something smells delicious, so I’m more than down for that,” Jason agreed easily, and Danny breathed a quiet sigh of relief. So far, so good.

Jason’s nose ended up leading them to cider, pulled pork sandwiches, and tornado potatoes- which were a spiraled monstrosity on a stick (as was only right for fair food). They were a little after lunch, which meant that they were able to find a place to eat at one of the many picnic tables set out across the town square.

Danny had to hand it to the town— it was nice. Sure, it was campy and the number of gourds used as decoration was little extreme, but it was all fit together in a way that was just the right level of quaint. Jason started them on an absurd game ‘tourist or resident’ as they ate. If they both agreed resident, they had to come up with what the person’s job or archetype in the town was.

It ended in a ten minute debate if one lady with truly impressive hair worked at the nail salon or florist.

“Receptionist at the law office,” the grey haired lady who had ended up sharing their table cut in.

Danny went beat red at having been caught out in their game.

“Guess or fact?” Jason asked, unbothered.

“Fact, sonny. I’ve been in this town for fifty-three years now, there ain’t nothing I don’t know,” she said with a proud sniff. “Good guess on the baker though, spot on where that one. Make sure you stop by that booth.”

“Will do, ma’am,” Jason said, balling up their trash to throw away.

Danny happily escaped the table with Jason.

“Ancients that was embarrassing.”

Jason had the audacity to just laugh. “Nah. She didn’t mind.”

“She’s going to tell everyone our guesses,” Danny said.

“So what? We didn’t say anything rude about anyone— well, other than that one set of clearly tourists who were being jerks so they deserved it. We’re just adding to the local flavor for this year.”

“If we go down in infamy and get blocked at the boarder next year, I’m blaming you.”

Jason just smiled softly at him. “Already planning for a next year?”

Danny floundered for a moment, opening and closing his mouth before he just shrugged. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“Good, I like that. Now where’s next on our list?”

Next on their list turned out to be a bookstore. Not just a bookstore- one of those bookstores that had been in the same building for a century. Books were stacked on top of books, shelves formed a maze, organization was a myth: in short, it was a fire hazard and it was amazing.

Jason might have been a little in love.

“Wow.”

“Yeah?” Danny asked, shifting on his feet a little as he looked up at Jason from out under his bangs.

“Yeah, fish, this is great.”

Danny’s shoulders relaxed. “Good, then go look around and pick something out to take home, my treat.”

“I could be here for hours,” Jason warned, already starting down one of the narrow corridors.

“Then take hours,” Danny said, smiling indulgently as he followed him. “We just ate, the day is young. If I get done looking I’ll check out with anything I’ve found and just go read on a bench at the festival.”

“Text me if you do that?” Jason asked, tilting a book to see the title better.

“I will, promise, but right now I’ll stick with you.”

Jason reached out and squeezed Danny’s hand, taking them deeper into the shop. Danny followed along for about half an hour, Jason commenting to Danny on some of the things he was finding. He lost Danny what seemed to be the science section, of course, and continued to explore for almost another hour.

He really only stopped his exploring because he stumbled upon Danny in the back corner, curled up under a rosy light in an ancient armchair. Danny was completely engrossed in a book. Leaning against the bookcase, Jason took in the sight. There was a little, warmed part of him that almost ached at it. It was the sort of thing that he wanted to come home to.

After only a minute, Danny looked up, clearly feeling the eyes on him. Jason watched the smile bloom across Danny’s face.

“Hey,” Danny said quietly. “You look like you found quite a pile.”

“This?” Jason said, hefting the stack of books. “This is me being restrained.”

Danny laughed, uncurling and sliding off his seat before he grabbed another book from the end table beside him.

“You found some things also?” Jason asked as they walked towards the register.

“Yeah, a book on local ghost stories—” Jason couldn’t help the amused snort at that “—I know, I’m a walking cliché. And a journal of an inventor that I thought looked cool.”

“Ah, I see you’ve found your young man,” the elderly shopkeep said, putting down his own book. “Have you thought more about the astronomy book?”

“Oh, um, not today, I don’t have that much to spend,” Danny said, nearly mumbling the words.

Jason frowned a little. “I can get it for you, fish.”

“What, no! I’ve planned this date, I get to treat you,” Danny said.

“Alright,” Jason relented. “But only one of my books; you shouldn’t suffer because I’m a bibliophile.”

Danny narrowed his eyes at Jason for a moment before nodding. “Hum, fine, but not the cheapest ones.”

“I can settle on that,” Jason said with a little shrug.

While Danny was fishing his wallet out of his backpack, Jason caught the shopkeep’s eyes and mouthed at ‘Do you ship?’.

‘For your boy, I’ll make an exception’, the man wrote on the back of a business card that he tactfully slid over. Pleased, Jason subtly wrote out his address while the shop keep wrung them up, putting the astronomy book secretly on Jason’s bill. It did look like a lovely old book with the navy leather cover and gold foil. It could easily be a present for the holidays.

By the time they were back out out the street and walking through the market, Danny’s backpack hung heavy with the weight of the books, but he refused to let Jason carry it. Chivalry wasn’t dead, he insisted, which was ridiculous reason but Jason let him have it. The backpack filled up even more as they both bought a few things at the market to be presents (Jason thought Alfred would love the local tea blends especially).

More ciders and then hot chocolates were the drink of choice with dinner— potpie for Danny and fish cakes for Jason. As they ate a band set up in the pavilion in the middle of the square, playing with the setting sun. The light had just dipped below the horizon when Jason stood and offered Danny his hand.

“I will so step on your toes,” Danny warned, but he was smiling as he took Jason’s hand.

“That’s alright, I’ve got sturdy boots.”

They found a spot on the corner of the dance floor and Jason twirled Danny into his arms, earning a breathless little laugh for his efforts. It really was the perfect evening and a much needed break. Tomorrow he could get back to the city and being its protector and to the cases that were nagging at his mind, tonight was just about him and Danny and this odd little town.

Red Hood stumbled through the window of his safe house and hit the ground hard. The scream of pain choked off in the back of his throat as his body seized. Bloody fingers scrambled against the worn linoleum.

He needed to call someone. He wouldn’t make it if he didn’t call someone.

His comms were shorted out.

Something had had happened in the fight.

It had been the normal sort of trouble— a new shithead trying to bring new drug onto his streets. It should have been an easy bust. It had been an easy bust.

But then the feeling of burning had burst in Jason’s chest— a molten heat that he had felt so sure would consume him.

He had stumbled. It left an opening. Just enough space for a knife to catch him just wrong under the armpit. A bullet solved his immediate issues, but when Jason had tried his comms, there had only been static.

The staggering trip back to his closest safe house had been agonizing, but he needed to get to a working comm. He needed to get up and get to a working comm.

He got his arms under him. A scream of pain ripped from him as the twisting motion wrenched at the wound. Legs next. Push himself up.

Only a few feet to stagger.

Blood slicked fingers fumbled the comm. No no no— he couldn’t— Jason followed it to the ground as it dropped. He struggled to pick it up and activate it.

“Help.”

He couldn’t hear if anyone heard him. He didn’t even know what channel this comm was tuned to. Desperately, Jason ripped off his helmet and shoved the comm into his ear.

“Help.”

“Hood?”

Oh, it was Dick.

“Hood!?”

He sounded desperate.

Was he hurt? Someone was hurt. Jason had to…

“…help.”

Dick all but smashed through the window of the safe house. The only reason he didn’t break the glass was that if Jason was as hurt as Dick feared he was, Dick would need to be able to secure the safe house to treat Jason.

He was lucky that that the security was down.

He was terrified that the security was down.

Now worried of an ambush, Dick crept silently through the window. That was… that was a lot of blood.

“Jason, come on, please.” That was Fish’s voice.

Fish knew? Surely if Jason had told his boyfriend about the nightlife, he would have told Dick he had? What was…

Fish was cradling Jason to his chest, half propping him up. Blood pooled under them. Jason’s helmet was discarded to the side and his boyfriend had a tube of glowing green liquid lifted to Jason’s lips.

“Just drink up.”

Glowing green liquid.

“You’ll— you’ll be fine. Just drink up.”

Lazarus water.

“What the fuck are you doing to him?!?” Dick’s escrima sticks buzzed to life in his hands.

Fish’s head whipped towards him, color draining from his face. “It’s not— you have to let me—”

“Get the fuck away from him,” Dick growled, enunciating each word carefully.

The man slide his finger over the top of the tube, effectively capping it so not to spill. “Nightwing, he’s bleeding badly this can—”

Dick slid his foot forward just an inch, starting to shift his weight. “It can nothing. He would never want to use the Pit again!”

“It’s not— no, it’s not the Pit—”

He lunged.

The right stick hit, buzzing loudly on contact. The guy screamed at the impact, but held onto the vial of Lazarus water.

The guy’s other hand shot forward, Dick blocked with with his arm and twisted. His foot slipped— like stepping on wet sand. Dick contorted to compensate with his free hand.

His hand sunk into the floor.

Holy fuck—

Dick’s other hand was slammed down too, trapping it. No, no, no— Dick struggled against the floor that he was part sunk into, the cracking linoleum shifted slightly, but Dick was stuck.

“Oracle!”

Static answered him.

“What did you do to my comms,” Dick growled, watching as the guy pulled Jason back into his arms. Was this all a trap? Was Jason’s boyfriend sent by Talia or Ra’s and had just been binding his time? Was it all an act? Did the cheeky, laughing, bumbling man that Dick met last week not exist? Was the way that Danny looked at Jason a lie? “What did you do to Jason!?”

“I didn’t! I didn’t do anything, I found him like this,” he said. He used his thumb to part Jason’s lips.

“Stop it!”

He didn’t. He poured in that toxic, glowing green sludge down Jason’s throat, speaking softly in Jason’s ear the whole time.

Dick screamed and struggled against the floor. No, please no—

“…you can hate me. You can hate me and scream at me and hell, once Jason is stabilized I won’t try to stop you doing whatever you need to. But Jason is still bleeding out. The ectoshot will help, but it won’t fix it completely. I need you. I need you to help me sew up wherever he’s bleeding from and, I don’t know, get a transfusion going. I don’t know where things are in this place.” He looked up at Dick from under his bangs and Dick could see in the now glowing green eyes some of the same guy— the same fish that he had met last week. “Please, feel however you want about me, but help me save him. He needs both of us right now, okay?”

Dick didn’t know what to say; didn’t know if he was about to make a deal with the devil.

“Please. If I free you, will you help? Just— punch me after if you need to, just help me save him first.”

That devil was the only thing keeping Jason alive.

Why did it always end up like this for his brother?

“Let me up.” Fuck everything. “I promise, I won’t try anything until after Jason is safe.”

The guy studied him for a moment before nodding. He laid Jason down carefully and reached out to Dick. The buzzing tingled through Dick’s skin again and he was able to pull his hands and feet free of the floor, one at a time.

Dick really wanted punch the guy right then and there.

Jason was more important.

“Get Jason’s jacket off, I think it’s a torso wound— maybe his left arm,” he ordered instead as he moved to the fridge to get a blood bag to start it thawing. “Find it and put pressure on it.”

He could punch someone after Jason was saved.

-----

AN: You should never trust me when I have a character goes 'ah yes, I'll worry about that tomorrow'. But remember, if you pitchfork me, I can't write the rest of this~ I'll try to spare you all and have the next part next week if I can! It will go into how Danny was there too.

Special shout out to @mokulule for making it worse! Trapping Dick in the floor was her idea. As she pointed out- he'll have nightmares about this now. (So sorry Dick.)

But look how cute the first part of the chapter was! That's good, right? Stay delightful darlings, don't stab me!

Due to being shadow banned (likely from tagging) and the new post editor, I'm not longer tagging! Follow the link and subscribe to be notified instead!

#dp x dc #dead on main #danny fenton x jason todd #danny fenton/jason todd #like betta fish do

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alonglistofbirds · 2 months

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[2870/11080] Curl-crested araçari - Pteroglossus beauharnaisii

Order: Piciformes Suborder: Pici Family: Ramphastidae (toucans) Genus: Pteroglossus (araçaris)

Photo credit: Georges Kleinbaum via Macaulay Library

#birds #Curl-crested araçari #Piciformes #Pici #Ramphastidae #Pteroglossus #birds a to z #undescribed #25% - 50%

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arcielee · 1 year

Text

Each Coming Night

Summary: Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Modern!FemReader Word Count: 2870 Warnings: Smutty smut, smidgen of knife play, fingering, oral (female receiving), some spanking, p in v. Author's Note: Okay, this took a minute because I literally was unsure what the fuck to do next with this depravity. It was supposed to be a smutty one shot and now it is finding a full arc. Thank you for much to @f4ll-for-you because your feedback and editing has helped me with this entire series. There will be 5 parts and I hope you all enjoy! Tags (kindred spirits): @glitterandgoldfinds @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @fan-goddess @welcometothelioncage @hueanhdang (it won’t let me tag you??) Series: Call It Dreaming

This cannot be happening to me.

This was your thought when the timer on your phone had gone off and you looked to see two pink lines glaring back.

This is a false positive, a defective strip, you reason, throwing it into the trash and retreating to the kitchen to refill the mason jar you were using to hydrate.

At first you rolled your eyes when your roommate, Emma, made a comment about how your diva cup was only collecting dust as of late, but when you checked your calendar you realized that your cycle was, in fact, late. You purchased the test-a pack of three, actually-from the corner mart for peace of mind, reminding yourself that the only way for you to be pregnant would be to actually have sex or immaculate conception, which made the latter plausible since you were not fucking anyone.

Or fucking anyone within this reality.

You felt your chest tightened with the damn intrusive thought that spoke boldly from the back of your mind. Your sleeping schedule felt irreparable as of late, with you only having two solid nights of sleep that left you aching in the most delightful way the following day.

You felt crazy and you were certain you could not speak it out loud to anyone-how would you even describe these lucid, sexy dreams? You assumed it came from the stress of the semester, these graduate level courses particularly grueling as you worked towards your masters; you used to appreciate being a recluse, the burden of your coursework and internship damn near suffocating, but you were finding it difficult to focus on anything as of late.

There was a time when you were able to turn your brain on automation and be able to retain whatever your professors spewed, dive into assignments with an outline in hand, and be able to finish projects before their due date.

Instead, you were consumed by this ache in your core that could not be resolved by any means available within the 21st century.

Then you dreamed of him again, Aemond fucking Targaryen, and it was just as delicious as the first time, fulfilling a satisfaction that you were grieving the prior day, assuming it was lost forever. It was unlike any dream you ever had and you remembered a tone of sadness when he said the words, “I imagine you will leave me again.”

You had, of course, woken up in your bed with that same delicious ache between your thighs and naked. Damn, I liked that dress, your mind thought as you were quick to check yourself in your mirror, just like last time.

There were love bites that trailed your neckline and you could see the bruises from his grip on your hips.

It did not make sense.

Your mind was in a fog and you would tread through each day listlessly. Whatever the lie you convinced yourself of before had faded into nothing, your only motivation was to be done with your degree and even that was clouded by the impending student debt. At night, you pined for your subconscious to return you to Westeros but instead you had a few hours of a fitful sleep each night.

There was an unexpected release when you found yourself returning to a passion you had not felt in years.

It began one afternoon, during a particularly long lecture, when you were enticed by the vacant space on the lined paper you meant to use for your notes; your pen was intentional with every stroke, flitting across the page, desperate to capture the sharp angles of his face…

“I appreciate your rapt attention, but class is over.”

You looked up to see the room was nearly empty, with a few students filling out, and your professor watching you, holding his bag and waiting for you to exit.

You were quick to throw everything into your backpack and return to your apartment, to your room, where you dug out an old sketch book you purchased years ago. You retrieved the notes from the class and saw the beginnings of Aemond’s portrait peering back; you had been complimented often for your drawings, but your family was apt to remind you the impracticality of an art degree and had been appalled at your suggestion at having no degree.

You could not place the blame on them entirely; you eventually shelved your passion and enrolled in a university you knew would make them proud.

And clearly the pressure of all this had cracked your brain entirely, since you suffered from a fucked up insomnia and found only a fictional prince from Westeros could get you off these days.

You groaned when the timer on your phone brought your attention back to see the two tests on the bathroom sink, both with two lines of pink mocking you. You threw them in the trash and piled toilet paper on top to hide them.

Fuck me. You sighed and washed your hands, peering at your reflection in the mirror. The love bites had faded away and you just looked tired, which was an understatement as you had not slept well this semester save those two nights in King’s Landing.

You returned to your room and threw yourself on the bed, eventually moving to rest your chest on the back of your hand and looking to see the growing collection of drawings and sketches that you began to pin on your wall. All were different mediums, pen, pencil, and the occasional charcoal, but each one was the same subject.

Aemond.

He had stirred your muses in a way you thought was lost to you the moment you signed your livelihood to this degree and the career it would entail.

He has stirred more than just your muses, that fucking intrusive thought made your groan and you rolled on your back, grabbing a pillow to smother your scream.

I cannot handle this, you decide, still unable to fathom the madness that you might possibly be pregnant from a sexy dream. Instead, you would sleep, wake up with a clear mind and some sort of idea of what steps to take, or maybe wake to find the news of a massive recall for store bought tests.

You curled beneath your blanket and closed your eyes.

And when you opened them, you were, once again, in his room.

He was not awake, from what you could see. The fireplace had a low, amber light that pooled out onto the stone hearth that stretched in front of the fireplace and towards the empty leather chair. The dark, velvet curtains were tucked in the silver tiebacks and allowed the sea breeze and moonlight to pour into the room.

There were tapers that burned low on his nightstand, casting a golden hue that washed over the sharp angles of his face and highlighting his tranquil expression as he slept. You were slow with your steps as you approached his bedside, your eyes drank in his figure as he laid back against the mattress, the shimmer of his silver locks and how one arm up was tucked behind his pillow while the other rested on his bare chest, rising and falling with his steady breathing.

He was beautiful and you were lost in the moment, your fingertips touching the bed edge and a small sigh that slipped from your lips.

Aemond was too fast for you to comprehend his movements, one moment you admired him as he slept and now he bound out of his bed like a white fury. He was pressed against you, his slender fingers wrapped around your throat and his other hand a white knuckle grip on his dagger, the blade against your throat.

Your eyes were wide as you watched him; his silver hair fell disheveled on his shoulders, his chest heaved with rapid breaths, and as he blinked the sleep away, his lavender eye slowly widened with his comprehension of who he had his hold on.

Aemond released you, throwing the dagger to the side with an echo of metal on the cobblestone floor, and his hands cupped your jaw, bringing you against him for a bruising kiss. Your name spilled like a fervent prayer from his lips, “I did not think you would come back to me.” He pulled back and his eye looked over your face, falling to the side of your neck.

You knew he had cut you and your thighs clenched from the sting, the sea breeze cool against the trickle of blood. You saw the flash of worry dance on his features and your hand rested on his hips, your nails biting into his skin and pulling him close again. “I’m fine, my prince,” you soothed, your face flushed when you dared to tease him. “This has become a part of our foreplay.”

Pleasure coils in your stomach when you see the curl of his lips; he leaned forward to capture your mouth again, his hot tongue pressing in and pulling a moan from the back of your throat. Your hands flitted across the rivets of his abdomen and stopped at his chest, his large hands covering your own and pulling you to the bed. He peels off your clothes, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass and lifting you onto the edge of the bed.

Goosebumps ripple over you when his warm palms lay on your stomach and move to your hips, pushing you further back on the bed so he can nestle between your thighs. His lips trails the inside of your leg towards your center, then he drags his tongue against your silken folds.

You give a small gasp and can feel him grinning against your cunt, followed by the gentle prod of his fingers that curl into you. There is a wet squelch as the pads of his fingertips press further in you, searching until you mewl his name.

He hums his approval, “Sȳz riña.”

Good girl.

He continues the rapid motion against that sweet spot within you, his head dipping forward and his tongue lavishes you, drinking you in as you become undone. Your hands clamp over your mouth to muffle the mixture of your moans, crying against your palms as his movement continues through your release and continues towards overstimulation. “Aemond,” you gasp and he stops at once.

He is slow to stand, his gaze hard on you and you watch as he begins to unlace his breeches. “Do not cover your mouth when I fuck you,” his tone dark and he crawls on top of you, pushing you further up the bed. “Va jaelan ryptas ao,” his face nuzzles into your neck and you feel the burn of his tongue along the cut.

I want to hear you.

His arm wraps around your waist and he pulls you towards the headboard, pulling until your backside is flush with his warm chest; his mouth is hot as he bites into your neck, sucking, and his tongue leading to your shoulder.

You arc against him, your ass pressing against his cock; he groans, grabbing your hip to slip between the softness of your thighs, slick from your release, and rubbing his length against your swollen lips. You whimper from the friction, your head tilting back against him and his nose presses against your ear, his mouth chewing on your earlobe. His hands trail your side, his fingertips gentle to trail your curves before grabbing into your hip and pulling you roughly against him.

“Sīr rāpa,” he groans in your ear. So soft.

His slender fingers palm your ass, lifting to press his swollen head into your wet warmth; his head falls forward between your shoulder blades and you let out a cry, arching against him again and allowing him to sheath himself fully into you.

Aemond grabs your hip to pull you against him at a bruising pace from behind, hitting the same spot from before. Your thighs are slick and he slips out, but moves you on your stomach. He reaches for a pillow, nudging to tuck it under your lower abdomen, and propping your ass up when you lay back onto it.

Your breathing quickens when you feel his warm hands, one on each cheek, and he pulls you apart slowly, allowing the breeze to tickle your wet heat. “Gevie,” Beautiful, he praises and you can feel the press of his cock against your soaked folds, the delicious stretch as he presses entirely into you.

Your hands grip the sheets and his hands are pressed on your lower back, holding you in place, and you feel the tickle of his silver hair on your backside when he leans forward. “Stop clenching,” you can hear his smug smile. “I wish to enjoy you.”

There is a satisfying wet squelch when he finally ruts his hips against you, hitting a depth within your velvet walls that curls your toes. You can feel his hip bones in the soft flesh of your ass and the crescendo builds easily from his overstimulation; you are breathless, your skin is aflame as you best brace yourself against his thrusts.

His hand moves from his grip on your hip, moving the curve of your ass before lifting his hand for a sharp slap that sends shockwaves of pleasure over your body, once, twice. The sound spills a wanton moan from your lips and a guttural groan escapes the back of his throat.

As your cunt begins to flutter, you bury your face against the mattress and he is quick to grab a fistful of your hair, pulling you back to all fours. You are a mewling mess, tears streaming your cheeks, and his other hand grabs onto your hip, continuing his brutal pace.

“Aemond,” you beg, but unsure what you are begging for. “Aemond, Aemond…”

Your crescendo of pleasure blossomed in your lower abdomen, your thighs shaking from the orgasm that rolled over and you clenching desperately at him. His thrusts grew sloppy and you felt the warmth of his seed spill into you, his cock twitching with his release.

You fall forward and curl on your side, hugging the pillow he propped under your hips and savoring its new scent of sex. Aemond pushes from the bed and moves to an oak table with a basin on top, picking up a cloth and dropping it in. He wrings out the extra water and returns to the bed, sitting on the edge and nudging your knee.

“Open,” he says and your legs spread.

The cloth feels cool in contrast to his touch and he is gentle to wipe you clean before pushing from the bed again. He uses a clean cloth for himself before he curls beneath the covers, eager to bring you against his chest and wrapping his arms around you.

This gives you a sense of serenity, the feeling of being against the warmth of his chest and the comfort in his embrace. There was nothing comparable in your world to this moment and you feel the threat of tears at the thought. You swallow to hold them back, but he notices and says your name in a low whisper. “What is wrong?”

His tone is genuine, gentle, and you cannot control the tears that spill. “I’m fine, I just wish that,” but what did you wish for? How do you explain that your reality is a suffocation of unwanted responsibility? That your only sense of pleasure is a hobby that your family begs you to forget and to just become another cog in the 21st century?

You blink away the tears, a small smile on your lips when you turn your head to look at him. “I only wish I was able to stay longer with you,” you finally manage.

Aemond hums as he pulls you close, nestling you beneath his chin and his touch gentle as he draws small circles between your shoulder blades. The ministrations lull you to sleep and you wake up to your roommate walking through your bedroom door.

“Hey, slut,” Emma is flippant with her greeting, mostly focused on grabbing her red hair to tie back. “I have to go to the store and I was checking if you need anything. Alex is making me go right now to buy him Pop-Tarts because he thinks I ate all of his, which I did but…” her voice trails off when she finally looks at you. “Holy fuck. Are you okay?”

Your eyes are swollen and red, there is a smear of blood on your neck under your jaw with love bites that decorated beneath and to your shoulders. Her eyes are wide with alarm and she moves to sit on the bed, unfazed that you are very naked. “Hey, did someone hurt you?” You are quick to shake your head. “No, I just,” you struggle with how to explain this, “I, uh, have been seeing someone and it is kind of complicated.”

Emma raised her eyebrow. “How so?” She asks, peering over the marks from your night with Aemond. “Like, it seems whatever you have going on is very enthusiastic, if anything…”

“Emma,” you breathe. “I’m pregnant.”

#each coming night #call it dreaming #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x modern!reader #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #part 3 #thanks for reading #♥#Aemond Targaryen x Modern!FemReader

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