#firefly family x male reader

[issdisgrace]

Hiya it’s my birthday in about three days and I was wondering if u could write a fic of Otis and his family celebrating readers birthday (preferable reader is dating Otis) I wanna know if they’d have any fun firefly traditions :3 (he/they pronouns for readerpls)

CELEBRATING YOUR BIRTHDAY WITH THE FIREFLY FAMILY

WARNINGS: Murder, mayhem, the usual Firefly family antics, little nsfw

A/N: This was intended to be a fic but I didnt quite know how to put my thoughts into a coherent fic. Also I’m trying to get out of writers block so sorry if it kinda lacking. But HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! I hope you have a good birthday.

There are two things that a certain when celebrating anything in the Firefly family, those being alcohol and murder.

But the whole day isn't spent partaking in those things.

The morning starts off with Otis waking you up for breakfast and you two getting a little hot and heavy before heading down for food. Both of you getting teased for your slightly disheveled appearance.

Otis told them to fuck off that it was your birthday so you got to enjoy yourself. You agreed and the family moved on from it.

You guys then had a nice breakfast before all piling into the living room to watch something of your choice. You guys ended watching tv for a couple hours before it was time for your first gift.

Your first gift was from Baby who got you a young married couple to play with and make pretty. You appreciated the gift and spent the next couple of hours playing with and making them pretty in crimson until they both unfortunately died.

But what was not unfortunate was by the time you were done and cleaned up a little lunch was done. They made all your favorite foods which was nice and very delicious but that could have also been the fact that Spaulding was the one that cooked everything with only some help from the others.

Anyway after lunch the family gave your gifts that weren’t people.

Spaulding got you a taxidermy racoon and possum cuddling because why not. Also he said that it reminded him of you and Otis. You being the racoon reminded and Otis being the possum.

Mama, Tiny, and RJ got you some movies and tv shows that they thought you would like and enjoy.

Baby got you a nice blanket and made you a voodoo doll of Otis so you could prick it when he made you mad or annoyed you. Which Otis grumbled about saying that he wasn’t that bad and a voodoo doll of him wasn’t needed.

Then Otis, your love, your man. He painted the two of you using god knows who blood. But it was very well done, very detailed, and very pretty. You were already thinking of where you were going to hang it up. So you could see the master piece everyday.

But I digress after lunch and gifts, you and Otis spent a little one on one time in your guys room fooling around. Otis offering his whole self to you to do whatever you pleased with him.

And all the while you guys were having fun the rest of the family was setting up the main event of the night. They got a shit ton of alcohol, set up a big bonfire to burn, and got the bunnies ready for the night.

Once it was dark the family came and got you and Otis. You got the honors as the birthday boy to light the bonfire. You also got to hunt the first bunny of the night before the others got to hunt theirs.

Anyway you all got plastered, had fun, played a couple of games, joked around, got bloody, and you snuck off once or twice with Otis but that’s beside the point.

You had an overall great birthday, got some nice gifts, had a nice time, and you couldn’t wait for your next birthday.

[heartless-tate]

High lady. | High Lord Eris X F reader

Summary:

A/N: Hellooo my fireflies! I’ve been thirsting for Eris these past few weeks so why not write for him? I can’t believe I ever didn’t like this man 😫. Also for my male readers out there, if you’d like me to rewrite this or any of my other fics with a male reader, just ask! 💕

3k words

warnings: cussing, allusions to sex, use of y/n, slight angst, she/her pronouns

There were no words to describe your shock at seeing the royal invite to the ball. You weren’t high fae. You were a simple, low class librarian. Your name was written in beautiful, classy cursive. A handwriting you recognized immediately. This was handwritten by Eris. Eris Vanserra. Memories flooded your mind.

Running through the gardens, dogs barking behind you playfully. You didn’t have time to react before a body landed on you. Eris. He tackled you to the dirt, his hand was cradling your head to prevent it banging against the floor as he straddled your back. His hounds crowded the two of you, stomping and making noises with excitement.

“Got you little fox!” Eris announced, hugging you from behind.

“Not fair! You said you’d give me a head start.” You pouted. Eris’s laughter filled the air, creating a warm atmosphere. His arms wrapped around your middle and he pulled you into a hug. His embrace was warm and comforting in the cool autumn air.

Cauldron. That was so long ago. Eris was older by you than a long shot, but at that time, you were young. Nineteen years old. Young and innocent. He was also slightly more innocent then, playing with you and entertaining your young soul. Your face flushed a slight shade of pink, and you shook your head. You remember your crush on him. How could you not have one though? Everyone warned you. And you didn’t listen. He was everything a girl at that age would’ve wanted. Beautiful, handsome, smart, experienced, and a prince.

It was only when you discovered Eris was to be betrothed to some high fae daughter in his father’s court, did your little world come crashing down with reality. You were a peasant compared to him. And he likely saw you as nothing but entertainment. So you distanced yourself. You stopped accepting his invites to dinner with his family, you didn’t go out with him anymore. Of course, you couldn’t bear to completely cut him off. So you still would accept his occasional invite to walk with him in the forests with his hounds. He always told you they missed you. Now days, the walks were somewhat awkward. They happened every few months.

The last one was 6 months ago. You always thought you were doing better, you worked at a library, and cared for precious books. You lived in a relatively small apartment, but it was okay. You were grateful, you had a roof on your head and food on your plate. Things had changed since your last walk with him.

Beron was dead. On Eris’s wedding night, before the marriage had been officiated he had dueled Beron to a battle of death. Hundreds at the wedding had witnessed as Eris brutally slayed his father, and placed the crown on his head. Declaring himself as high lord. He released himself of the marriage, and granted his fiancé permission to marry her true lover. When the news escaped to the streets and you heard, you couldn’t help but be nervous. You realized, Eris would be to busy with his court to come on walks with you anymore. And that made you realize that your feelings weren’t gone. You had never gotten over him.

Tonight was a royal ball. You remembered Eris had always begged his father to let you attend the dances and balls, but Beron always refused. Saying trash like you should never be seen with royalty. Eris, stayed by your side though. He’d sneak from the dances and find you, and would dance in the silent night with you. And you had no idea why Eris was inviting you to this ball. Was it pity? Did he want you to experience something nice once in your life? What would you even wear? You certainly didn’t have royal attire.

You ripped open the letter with your nails, admiring the wax seal of a little fox on it. You opened it to a small card inside. Eris’s handwriting.

Little fox,

I’d be honored for you to attend the royal autumn ball tonight with me. A carriage will wait for you at your apartment at noon. Don’t neglect my dogs of your attention any longer.

Love, Eris.

You giggled. You felt like a school girl. You could feel the heat on your face. You admired his familiar handwriting. It was neat and lovely in every sense. A dried viola fell into your lap when you opened the card further. Memories of him teaching you cursive in the gardens made you smile. You stood, grasping the flower, and pulled out the small box you kept of every letter he had ever sent you. Whenever Beron would try to restrict him from seeing you, it didn’t stop him from convincing his maids or servants to get his letters to you. You hadn’t received a letter since his last request to walk with you. The box was filled with the dried flowers he’d always sent with them.

How could you go? What would you wear? You approached your closet. And then you remembered something.

“Eris- I can’t wear this. This is too- too, royal.” You squeaked, admiring the beautiful dress he had just gifted you.

“Wear it. It matches the suit my father made me wear. Let’s dance, little fox.” He purred, pushing hair out of your face. Once the dress was on, he pulled you close to him in the empty streets on the Autumn Court and guided you in a slow dance, uncaring of the lack of music. Or the fact he was missing a royal ball.

You didn’t waste time in finding the box tucked away safely under your bed, and pulling it out. You opened the box, staring at the gorgeous forgotten dress. You had only worn it the last night he had danced with you.

This would work. Looks like all the dances you learned from books would pay off tonight.

Music from the orchestra blasted loudly. You entered the throne room, slightly late. But nobody cared. You were fashionably late- you had to find a mask. It was a masquerade after all. And Eris’s letter was a little bit close to time so, nobody could blame you. People danced in sync all over the room, dresses of different colors swaying. It was so fascinating. You couldn’t help but be mesmerized. Sure, most of these people were stuck up cunts, but they were beautiful, and they knew it too. You walked down the the grand stair case, eyes greedily taking in everything.

And then they caught on him. He sat on the throne, auburn hair messy as if he had ran his hands through it more then once tonight. The crown on his head was slightly crooked, giving him an uncaring look as high fae of all kinds greeted him. His mask was the color of burning fire, gold lace trimming it. He seemed bored, uninterested in this whole party. And he looked every bit of the High Lord you knew he would be.

You didn’t have the guts to greet him. You couldn’t. He had invited you out of perhaps pity. There were clear boundaries you were sure of. And you knew approaching the high lord as a peasant would break every single one of those boundaries. You could already see high fae turning their noses up at you as you walked by.

You approached the giant banquet table, observing the various foods. They were all favorites of yours. Maybe you just had a fancy food taste. You grabbed a glass of fae wine off of a servant’s tray, happy to indulge yourself in high quality wine that you didn’t have to pay for. You decided to eat after you danced.

You turned to face the dance floor. You watched the first waltz come to an ends, couples departing to find new partners. You swirled your wine in your glass, smelled it and then took a taste. It was glorious. Aged, and woodsy. You figured the bottle was easily in the three hundreds. Who cared? You didn’t have to pay for it. You snickered to yourself.

“Dance with me?” A coy voice purred beside you.

You turned, seeing a gentle around your age. High fae. And he was still asking to dance. Odd. His mask was black with silver lace. He wore a simple black tux. His hair was a dark brown, slicked with gel. He had a warm smile. He was handsome. You took his outstretched hand.

“Why not?” You replied, setting your wine glass down on a servant’s tray. The male smirked with arrogance, and swooped you to the dance floor. Music begun, and he started the dance.

“I’m Silas.” He murmured, twirling you. You nodded, having no problem in keeping up with the complex strides of this particular dance.

“Y/n” You responded. His eyes glinted.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl like you.” Silas said. He started to move faster, as if seeing how well you could keep up. And you did. Having no trouble at all.

You smiled warmly. This man was nice. You could see yourself with him. But it felt like something was missing. Like a hole in your heart.

“Thank you, Silas.” You purred back, starting to lead the dance. You guided it into a more complex rhythm, going along with the music, but ultimately making it more difficult. You giggled when he tripped over his own foot but caught himself. He glared at you.

“You dance awfully good for a commoner.” He huffed out, twirling you again.

“Having trouble keeping up?” You taunted playfully, not caring of his snarky remark. He was embarrassed. You could tell by how his eyes were roaming the people that had take to watch the both of you dance, interested in seeing how long you could rule the dance floor, he was embarrassed. Your eyes roamed the people. You could feel a familiar sense of someone watching. Your eyes found Eris. He was no longer listening to the fae beside him. His amber eyes bored into you. When you caught eye contact, he smirked. His legs spread as he leaned further into his throne. His eyebrow was cocked, his long talons tapping against the throne.

Cauldron. You had forgot how breathtakingly gorgeous he was. And sexy. You felt your face flush.

A snarl distracted you from him. Silas’s hands clutched your hips.

“Do not mock me.” He growled quietly in your ear. The music’s rhythm went faster, and the dance along with it. The curious fae quickly started dancing again, embarrassed at how they were so mesmerized by a commoner.

You went to take another step, but Silas went crashing to the floor. You watched in shock as he slid on the floor, his eyes wide with fury and embarrassment. His face heated with embarrassment. He looked up at you mouth open as if he was about to blame you, but his eyes caught on something behind you. Or rather, someone.

You turned slowly to see the high lord standing in his full glory behind you. His sharp cunning eyes squinted and mouth pulled into a smirk. He observed the male on the floor before looking at the people around you both. Then his eyes landed on you. You were awestruck by him for a minute- before you realized he was royalty. You started to bow but an invisible force stopped you. Your eyes narrowed in confusion before Eris bowed in front of you.

The High Lord just bowed in front of you. You. A peasant. Before you could say anything he lifted his hand to you.

“Grant me the pleasure of a dance?” He said, loud and clear. Gods you missed his voice. Yours ears picked up multiple gasps of shock. You heard a start of a growl before seeing Eris’s eyes glare into Silas behind you. You heard Silas scrambling away, knowing his place. Eris’s eyes turned back to you. He stayed in a bowed down position, hand waiting for yours. You swallows your shock. So be it. This very much may be the last dance you and him share, and you would take it.

Eris smiled softly when he felt the familiar embrace of your hand on his. His hand wrapped around yours, completely swallowing it. You hadn’t even realized the music had stopped until now. He motioned with his free hand for it to begin again. Fae around you scampered to start dancing, but all of their eyes were on you. On him. And his eyes were on you. And that’s all that mattered.

His free hand moved to your hip, grasping it gently with respect. He slowly moved to start the dance, holding you close. You didn’t know what to say or do other than to follow his lead. You didn’t even realize your mouth was gaping open.

“Little fox, you look like a fish gasping for air.” Eris teased in your ear, and you quickly shut your mouth.

“Sorry-“

“Don’t apologize. You never have to apologize to me.” He replied, smoothly. Gods. It was as if you were 19 again and you were dancing in the empty village with him. His long nails drew circles on your hip as you slowly started ti advance in the pace of the music. He kept up with ease, and you the same.

“Your hounds miss you.” Eris murmured, leaning his head down enough to kiss your forehead. It took every ounce of self control to not accidentally trip in shock.

“My hounds? They’re not mine. They’re yours!“ You started.

“Yes, they are, little fox. You helped me save and raise Sadie’s pups. If it wasn’t for you most of them would’ve died during birth. They are every bit of yours as they are mine.” He responded, pulling you closer. You knew better then to continue this fight with him. He was stubborn. And you knew if you tried to refuse again you’d probably have a pack of hounds at your apartment door tomorrow- out of spite.

“Whatever.” You grumbled defeatedly, shaking your head. He chuckled. His laugh was deeper now. You could smell the envy of other women around you. You wondered if they knew there wasn’t anything to be jealous of.

“So..how’s being High Lord?” You asked, unsure of what to talk about now. Eris frowned with a playful pout.

“Lonely. I’m sure the hounds would agree too. But don’t worry about that. That’ll change very, very soon.”

You weren’t quite sure what Eris was getting on to now. He always spoke in riddles. You sighed. Before you could re-question him, he started talking again.

“How has my little fox been?” Eris divulged.

You blushed. He had always had a knack for that dumb nickname. You were glad people couldn’t hear your conversation. The current dance came to an end and Eris wasted no time in pulling you into another. He knew you would have no problems keeping up.

“I’ve been good.” You responded. You looked up at him. He had gotten taller. And bigger. Maybe it was the high lord magic that transferred to him after Beron died or something. You weren’t sure. But he towered over you, creating a comical size difference. He gave you a toothy playful smile. He was always so carefree around you. You loved it. You loved him.

“You look lovely in that dress.”

“You bought it.” You quipped back at him.

“I have such good taste don't I?” He countered.

You couldn’t help but giggled looking away. The music slowed and you knew this was coming to an end. And gods you didn’t want it to end. His eyes softened as if he too was thinking the same. He grasped you tighter, pulling you closer, your bodies left no space between each others. He leaned down and inhaled your scent.

“Gods. I missed you. I missed your scent. The way you laugh. Talking with you- I missed it all.” Eris started. He held you tighter when you tried to pull away, confused.

“Don’t move away. Let me enjoy this Y/n.” He whispered, head going to the crook of your neck as he slowed the dance, moving with rhythm to the orchestra’s music. You realized how desperate and clingy his hood on you seemed now. As if he had missed you as much as you missed him.

Fuck boundaries. You couldn’t care if you were a peasant compared to him right now. You let your inner thoughts win as you tightly clutched at him. You didn’t wanna let go of him. You let your head lean against his chest, relaxing into the calm and slow dance. You knew fae were gawking at you both. And neither of you cared. Eris seemed shocked at your return of his embrace. The music slowed to a stop, and so did you both in the middle of the floor. Eris gently pulled away, staring at you with such adoring eyes. A sharp contrast to who he was in front of these people. His eyes found their way to your lips. He looked back up at you, a pleading look on his face. You understood what he wanted.

His hand clutched at the back of your head as your lips met. His were soft. It was the most gentle and loving kiss. You couldn’t give a flying fuck about the jealous and envious fae. Not just women. Both males and females snickering in jealousy. Eris pulled away, eyes soft. He took in the sight of you.

He didn’t waste time in pulling you in for a second kiss. This one wasn’t gentle. It was hot. Aggressive. He kissed you as if there was a fire in his bones and you were the only thing that could sooth it. His teeth gently nipped and sucked on your bottom lip. You returned it. His hand clutched at the back of your head, talons tangled in your hair. His other one clutched at your hip and roamed to your lower back. Your hands clutched at the front of his dress shirt. When you pulled away gasping for air, Eris had the biggest smile on his face. His eyes roamed your face again. You lips were swollen and pink from him. You were panting and looking at him as if he was everything. And he returned the same look. He tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear before cupping your jaw.

“Don’t make me miss you anymore. Stay with me. I’ll give you everything you could dream of. You can be my high lady. Anything- anything you want.” He begged, eyes pleading. You knew he wasn’t lying.

“Eris..”

Eris swear his heart stopped with the way you said his name. He’s positive he would die right here on this floor at your knees if you rejected him. You were all he ever wanted.

“You’re everything I could dream of.” You whispered to him. Eris took in a gasp of air, not realizing he had been holding it. Relief flooding his body. And then pure love. He grabbed your hand before you could say anything and guided you up the stairs the the throne. He turned, facing the crowd with you. His hand placed on your lower back.

The whole crowd of fae stared in confusion and shock. No idea of what was about to happen.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” Eris barked. “Show some respect to your high lady.”

His voice boomed across the room, gasps eliciting from the crowd. And then, they all bowed. You stood in front of the throne, watching as they all bowed to their knees. The scent of fear and confusion flooded from the fae.

Eris smirked before turning around back to you. He knew that despite your anxieties, you were made for this. Just your presence demanded attention from others. He knew you were his. His eyes shined with pure male pride as he removed the autumn court crown from his head, and gently placed it on yours. You watched as he bowed down on his knee, paying respect to you. His queen. You relaxed. Hundreds of high fae all bowed down to you. Your man bowed down to you. You tipped your head up with a smirk.

Eris grasped your hand and kissed your ring finger with a possessive glare at it. As if promising himself it would soon have a ring around it. He stood, and walked you to the throne. He held your hand as you sat down on it, crossing your legs. He stood beside you, eyes peering to the fae. He looked to you. Gods you were gorgeous. He couldn’t help the possessiveness in him that filled to the brim at seeing you where you finally belonged. He had waited so long to be able to do this.

“The masquerade is over. Get out.” He growled to the people, his eyes never leaving you. He didn’t bother turning around to ensure the people left. He could hear them rushing to get out.

He was gonna fuck you on your rightful throne.

[sapphire-writes]

Our Last Summer (modern!HOTD)

part 8 of 10 || series masterlist || previous part || next part

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

summary: The Kingsroad Country Club hosts its annual gala and auction. An unwelcome guest causes trouble for you and the gang.

word count: 6.2k

rating: Mature/Explicit/18+

warnings below the cut!

warnings: language, fighting, and mentions of violence, slight exhibitionism, oral (male-receiving, ball play), reader domming a lil bit, dirty talk, praise, cum eating, kissing

note: went a lil crazy with this one pls forgive my feral nature

dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

as always, comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated but not expected ❤️

“Torture,” Helaena says, her lips in a deep pout, “This is actual torture.”

You glance over at her as you all exit the car that dropped you off at the Kingsroad Country Club. It had just been you, Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena; Alicent had been driven separately several hours earlier to help prepare. 

Helaena smoothes the silver blue dress, looking rather uncomfortable yet stunning. You can’t imagine any of the Targaryens looking bad ever; they’re all blessed with angelic good looks. But Helaena is clearly out of her element in the silk dress and heels. You’d helped her with her makeup, though it was hard to get her to sit still.

You’d gotten ready with Helaena, as Baela was summoned to Dragonstone earlier in the day. The whole family was arriving together, to make an entrance. 

Aegon and Aemond are dressed similarly in suits and ties; the boys truly had it easiest. Though Aemond wore a black tie whereas Aegon wore a deep green one.  

You smooth your own dress, feeling a little self-conscious around the Targaryens. You’d chosen a silky black dress when you’d gone shopping a few weeks ago; it hugs every curve, falling to the middle of your thighs. You’d paired it with some hoops and a layered necklace (borrowed from Helaena). 

“You look incredible, Hel,” you assured her, and she rolled her eyes.

“I mean, I know,” she tells you, “I’m a hot person. You too! Very sexy chic,” she teases, grabbing your hand and twirling you.

Aemond smirks, watching the display. Your cheeks warm as you focus on not tripping in your heels. Helaena stops spinning you, pulling your back against her front.

“Careful, Aemond,” she teases, “I just might steal your girl.”

“Alright, enough,” Aemond says, reaching forward and taking your hand, pulling you from Helaena’s embrace.

She laughs as Aemond pulls you close before closing the car door. Aegon has propped himself against the hood of the car, attempting to light a cigarette. Helaena moves past him, smacking him on the back of the head. The cigarette falls to the ground and Aegon groans.

“Bitch,” he mutters.

“Watch it,” Helaena warns, heading up the steps, “Let’s go find Mom.”

Aegon trails behind her, flicking his lighter shut and shoving it into his pocket. 

Aemond’s fingers are still intertwined with yours as he moves to follow his siblings; you can feel the coolness of the rings that adorn his slender fingers. He stops just at the front of the car, leaning against it until he’s face to face with you. He holds your hand the whole time, pulling you forward gently.

“Shouldn’t we head in?” you ask, now standing between his legs. He drags your hand up, letting it go when it rests on his shoulder.

“In a minute,” he murmurs, bringing his hands to your waist, “First I want to tell you how beautiful you look.”

Your face warms and you blink rapidly, eyes downcast. For someone you originally thought was just a fuckboy, Aemond Targaryen was turning out to be quite the romantic. He somehow knew all the things to say that would send your heart fluttering in your chest, and turn your legs to jelly.

Aemond watches your reaction, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles. You wet your lips, looking up at him.

“Tell me then,” you tease, and he gently tugs you forward capturing your lips in a kiss.

It’s slow and passionate; heat curls in your belly along with a desperate ache between your legs. It trickles through your veins, flooding your entire body with euphoria. You’ve never felt this feeling before; this almost painful need for another person. Aemond deepens the kiss, letting his tongue slip into your waiting mouth. He tastes of spearmint, and something spicy; the rum Aegon had insisted you all try before heading over. 

Aemond pulls away, the slight smile still on his face as he rubs circles on your hips with his thumbs.

“You look beautiful,” he tells you, so close you can feel his lips moving with the words he speaks. 

You smile at his words, tilting your head to bump the tip of your nose against his. Aemond releases a breath as you do so, cupping your cheek with one large hand and pressing a softer kiss to your lips. 

“Let’s go,” he tells you, and you head inside.

The Kingsroad Country Club is nothing short of extravagant when you make your way into the main ballroom. You’d deposited your coat in a room down the hall for safekeeping. Your eyes are wide as saucers as you take in the gorgeous arrangement of colorful flowers throughout the room, and cream-colored silk streamers that hang from the ceiling.

Ice sculptures of various mythical creatures are scattered throughout the room, several of them dragons you can’t help but notice. Everyone is dressed to the nines; you’ve never been to such a fancy event. You spot Sara, clad in a deep purple dress and she waves at you, nudging Cregan who stands beside her. He gives you a friendly wave as well.

Floris is here; you spot her helping explain something to an older woman. She smiles at you brightly and mouths talk later, before returning to her task. Your chest warms as you scout the crowd for Baela and Rhaena. You know they’d arrived before you as you received a frantic text from Baela as you were getting ready. Help me, followed by a skull emoji. 

“I’ll get you a drink,” Aemond murmurs, leaning down to speak in your ear. You nod, continuing to look for the twins, and he walks over to the bar.

Helaena’s silver head comes into view; she’s standing next to Alicent who is speaking rapidly. Helaena’s expression is pained and she tugs her shoulder away from her mother’s reaching hand. The dynamics of this family are throwing you through loops. 

You hear a familiar voice call your name, and turn to see Will Tyrell accompanied by someone you don’t recognize. You give him a friendly smile as he approaches. Will had been more than understanding when you’d reached out to him earlier in the week; you’d told him while you had a lovely time, you thought it would be best to remain friends. 

Will, being the total sweetheart he is, agreed without hesitation. He makes his way over to you, wearing a white button-down shirt with an open dark navy jacket with matching slacks. His brown curls are slicked back against his skull. His friend is dressed similarly; clad in a deep maroon jacket and slacks. 

His features are sharp, almost fox-like. You notice he has rather large ears, hidden behind strawberry-blonde curls and a dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose. 

“Good to see you,” you tell Will, pulling him into a friendly hug. You glance awkwardly at his friend, waiting to be introduced when Aegon joins you. 

“Hughie!” Aegon says, pulling in the stranger with his hand and clasping him on the shoulder, “Been a while man.”

“Yeah, good to see you,” he answers with a grin, “Been in Highgarden for most of the summer.”

His eyes drift over to you, “Hugh Florent.”

He holds his hand out which you shake, and smiles politely. Hugh’s eyebrow raises as you tell him your name, gaze flickering to Will who is lost in conversation with Aegon. Something about sharks from what you can hear. 

“You’ve been hanging with Will this summer, yeah?” Hugh asks, lips curving into a slight smirk. 

“We’ve been out a couple of times, yeah,” you tell him, as Aemond returns to your side. You feel him slide an arm around your waist, gently tugging you closer to his warm body.

Hugh’s eyes flicker between you both as Aemond hands you a glass of champagne. You thank him, taking a small sip; the bubbles leave a tingling sensation on your tongue.

“Aemond,” Hugh says with a grin, “You’ve decided to make an appearance.”

“My mother organized the gala and auction,” Aemond answers, his voice rather cold, “Important to support her.”

“Are you bidding on anything?” Hugh asks, placing his hands in his pockets.

“If something catches my eye,” Aemond answers, shrugging his shoulders slightly.

Hugh’s eyes slide over to you once more.

“Seems like something already did,” Hugh comments, as Will hands him a beer, “Thanks, man.”

You feel Aemond’s arm tighten around you, and he gives Hugh a tight smile, eye narrowing slightly. You glance up at him, feeling the tension rolling off his lean, muscular form. Aemond tilts down to your height, his lips beside your ear.

“Have you seen Baela yet?” he asks softly, and you shake your head, “I saw her while I was getting your drink; I’ll take you to her.” 

And with that, Aemond leads you away from Hugh, giving him a polite nod as you exit. Aemond keeps his arm around you as you move through the crowd and onto the large patio where some guests have begun mingling.

“Who is he?” you ask, keeping your voice low.

“One of Aegon’s fraternity brothers,” Aemond answers, jaw clenched, “Best to stay away from him.”

You couldn’t agree more. The uneasy feeling in your stomach from the interaction with Hugh doesn’t last long, as you spot Baela and Rhaena, along with Daemon and Rhaenyra. Luke is seated next to his mother fiddling with his tie. Rhaenyra scolds him before running her hand over the back of his head. 

Baela tilts her wine glass upwards, finishing the dregs before abandoning the glass on the table. Her eyes widen as she sees you and she uses the moment to pull away from her father and stepmother. Daemon makes a face but you watch Rhaenyra slide her hand into his, shaking her head gently. 

Baela’s arms sling around your shoulders pulling you into a tight hug. She smells like the perfume you got her for her last birthday; light and floral. 

“Holy shit you smoke show!” she comments, admiring your look, “Damn Aemond, you’re a lucky guy.” 

“Insanely,” Aemond agrees.

“You look stunning Baela, holy fuck,” you tell her. Baela is a goddess in her aquamarine-colored dress that clings to every curve. 

Some of her curls are pulled back from her face by silver pins adorned with seahorses with pale blue gemstones for eyes. The rest of her curls hang freely down her back. Glitter shimmers on her chest and arms, matching the highlighter atop her cheekbones. Baela looks the part of a sea enchantress, ready to drag those who cross her to a watery grave. 

Rhaena’s dress is similar, though a shade of pale pink. She waves at you, but stays close to her father’s side, standing between him and Rhaenyra. Her locs hang freely and you can see gemstones sparkling around her eyes.

Baela preens at your praise, giving you a little twirl.

“I mean, it was nothing really,” she says, “Thank god you’re here though, it’s been so boring.”

“How’s your dad?” you ask.

“Fine, I guess,” she says with a sigh, “He got what he wanted. The happy little family all together.” She crosses her arms in front of her. 

“No Jace?”

“He said he didn’t think he’d be back in time,” she reminds you, “Regatta is still 2 weeks away, he’ll be back for Luke.”

“That’s good,” you tell her. Luke looks lost without his brother. Smaller. 

Baela sighs, looking back at her family. Rhaena jerks her chin, motioning for Baela to rejoin. 

“Gods,” Baela grumbles, “Probably another picture. I had to take one with Rhaenyra earlier.”

“Sorry,” you tell her, wincing.

“It’s whatever at this point,” Baela says, rolling her eyes, “Catch you in a bit? The fireworks are supposed to be really cool this year.”

You nod, giving her hand a squeeze.

“You got this,” you tell her and she smiles, her eyes sad.

“Thank you,” she says, turning to Aemond, “Take care of my girl.”

“Will do,” Aemond promises. 

Baela turns back suddenly. 

“Shoot, will you do me a favor?” she asks, and you quickly nod, “Grab my phone? It's in the coat room. It’s my black one with the seahorse buttons.”

“Of course,” you tell her as Rhaena calls her name, “Go, go I’ll grab it and be right back.”

Baela thanks you again, heading back over to Rhaena and the others. You glance up at Aemond, handing him your glass. 

“I’ll be right back,” you tell him.

“Want me to come with you?” he asks.

“It’s alright, I’ll only be a moment,” you assure him, “Besides, maybe check on Hel? She looks like she’s in pain.”

Aemond chuckles slightly but agrees as you head out of the ballroom and down the hall. The music dies as you make your way further to the uninhabited side of the country club, pushing open the glass doors that lead to the smaller room where all the coats have been kept. 

There are other things present as well, some auction items to be revealed later in the night. You make your way to the women’s coats, fingering through them for Baela’s. It’s easy to spot with the buttons and you grab her phone, sliding it between your breasts. You remove your phone, as that’s where you’d been stashing it, and check your notifications.

“Hiding from someone?” a voice calls and you turn around, startled. 

Your phone drops from your hand, landing on the ground with a loud thump. Hugh Florent winces apologetically, leaning forward to grab it. He holds it out to you.

“Thanks,” you tell him, taking your phone with a tight smile.

“No problem,” he says, moving deeper into the room before throwing himself down onto a nearby chaise lounge, “I always try to escape these things too, they’re terribly boring.”

He pulls out a cigarette from his suit pocket, placing it between his lips before lighting it. The sweet smell of smoke fills the air, making your nose wrinkle. 

“You’re not hiding from Will, I hope?” he asks, before exhaling a cloud of smoke.

“I’m not hiding from anyone,” you tell him, “I don’t think you’re allowed to smoke in here.”

A smile forms on his face around the cigarette that dangles from his lips.

“Our little secret then,” he says, causing the hair on your arms to stand on edge, “Want one?”

“No,” you tell him, “I should be getting back.”

“Stay a minute,” he insists.

“I really-”

“Stay,” he says, his tone more commanding this time, “Keep me company. Don’t be rude.”

Your face warms, the hair on the back of your neck stands up, and a lump begins to form in your throat. You hate feeling like this. Like you want to tell him to go fuck himself and leave the room. But your feet are glued to the floor and you stand, frozen in place. 

Hugh smiles at his victory and your obvious discomfort. You just need a minute, then you’ll go. C’mon, leave the room. Aemond is waiting. 

“You getting on with Will then?” he asks, and your stomach lurches. 

“We’ve gone out,” you tell him. 

“But you’re with Targaryen now?” Hugh clarifies and you nod.

If it's one thing men respect, it's another man having some sort of claim to you. The thought sours your stomach and causes tears to prickle in the back of your eyes. Your heart is beating against your ribs like a rabbit’s foot. 

You don’t suppose men ever feel this way. Like prey. 

“Well, if one-eye gets boring,” he drones, and you flinch at the cruel nickname, “You’re welcome to my bed anytime.”

Your lips curl in disgust.

“Excuse me?” 

“I’m just down the way a bit,” he says with a shrug, “Since you’re keen to give it up for King’s Landing residents.”

Your jaw drops at his insult, and suddenly adrenaline floods through you, your feet unstuck. The fear that was trickling through your veins moments ago is replaced with white-hot anger.

“Go fuck yourself,” you tell him, through gritted teeth.

Hugh leaps from the chaise as you go to leave, reaching out and grabbing your forearm, holding you in place.

“Just teasing, that’s all,” he insists, tightening his grip as you attempt to pull away.

“Get off me!” you yell, turning and slapping Hugh across the face. 

“Hey!” a deep voice echoes through the room and the pressure disappears from your forearm. A few tears slip past your lower lids as you meet the eyes of Cregan Stark. 

He walks forward into the room, his eyes locked on Hugh, who has backed up several paces.

“Everything's al-”

“Shut the fuck up man,” Cregan snaps at him, before turning to face you.

You release a shaky breath, wiping your hands over your cheeks, drying the tears that escaped. 

“Are you alright?” Cregan asks, ducking to meet your height. He places one hand on your shoulder, his thumb rubbing circles on your flesh.

You nod, struggling to find the words to thank him.

“Yeah….I’m okay…just a little shaken up,” you tell him, trying to keep your voice steady. Hugh straightens up, dusting his dress pants and running a hand over his gelled hair. 

“Let’s get you back to the party,” Cregan says softly, using his body to shield you from Hugh’s view. 

You let Cregan lead you toward the door, stopping briefly to whisper, “Please don’t say anything; I don’t want to make this a thing.”

Cregan’s expression is pained but he gives you a curt nod as the door opens. 

“You guys find any coolers in here?” Aegon asks, trying to squeeze by, “Waiters aren’t filling me up fast enough and the bar cut me off-”

Aegon’s sentence dies as he looks at you, his eyebrows concaving together in confusion. You watch as the gears whirl in his head as his eyes flicker between you and Hugh; your tear-stained cheeks, his tense posture, Cregan’s protective stance.

“Aegon don’t-”

Cregan’s words fall on deaf ears as Aegon pushes by you both and slams his hands into Hugh Florent’s chest. 

“AEGON!” you call.

“The fuck you think you’re doing, huh?” Aegon growls, grabbing Hugh by his shirt, “That’s my brother’s girl you’re messing with.”

“Relax bro,” Hugh says, that sly smirk still plastered on his face, “We were just talking, she didn’t have to get all upset-”

“I’m sure Aemond will love to hear that,” Aegon says roughly, “Go be a sleazeball somewhere else- not at my family’s fucking club.” Aegon releases him with a shove, straightening up and looking at you.

“You alright?” he asks, and you nod, lips parted in shock. You’d hardly expected Aegon of all people to come to your defense. 

He moves forward ushering you and Cregan back down the hallways towards the main ballroom.

“Let’s not mention this to Aemond right now,” Aegon says, on the opposite side of you, “I don’t think that-”

A whistle comes from behind you, as you’re heading out of the ballroom and onto the lit porch where most of the patrons have retired to watch the fireworks. You catch Aemond’s eye from across the sea of people, watching the corner of his mouth twitch into his familiar smirk. Your heart leaps into your throat, eyes wide. Aemond reads your upset expression instantly and begins moving forward toward you. 

You turn as Hugh enters, his tongue held between his teeth. It seems he’s not eager to end this. 

“You’re one to fucking talk, Egg,” Hugh says through a laugh.

“Hugh, I swear to-”

“I didn’t know she was spoken for,” Hugh continues, “Must be a real ego boost for your bro, to be hitting Tyrell’s sloppy seconds.”

Aegon surges forward, but Cregan blocks him with his chest. You raise your eyebrows, cheeks hot with humiliation. Will has overheard and makes his way over to you as well. 

“Is this guy for real?” you ask, not believing what you’re hearing, “Aegon just leave it!”

Aegon gives an exasperated chuckle, holding both hands out in front of him. Will frowns, shaking his head at his friend. Several guests have started to watch the scene unfold.

“Not cool dude,” he says, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Just standing up for you, bro,” Hugh insists.

“Well don’t,” Will says, before turning and giving you an apologetic look. 

Aemond is weaving his way closer, still moving through the crowd as Aegon insists to Cregan he’s fine. Cregan reluctantly steps in front of you and Aegon, pushing open the glass doors leading outside. He holds them open for you both, standing on the deck letting in the warm night air and music that plays from the live band. 

You think you’re in the clear as Aemond squeezes by Cregan into the room. His hands find yours and you press yourself closer to him. He releases one of your hands to cup your cheek, violet eye flickering over your face taking in every inch. He holds your cheek carefully, as though you may shatter in his palm. 

“What happened?” he murmurs, gaze moving to rest on Hugh. You cover his hand with your own.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” you assure him, feeling your anxiety calm in his presence. 

“If she’s not putting out, maybe Helaena is,” Hugh calls to Aegon, “She’s been looking pretty hot lately-”

Everything happens very fast after that. Will tells Hugh off, pushing his shoulder lightly as Aegon lurches forward once more. This time, he’s quicker than Cregan and he sends Hugh Florent tumbling to the ground. 

“Asshole!” you yell at Hugh, just as Aegon collides with him, “Oh shit, shit shit!”

“Aegon!” Aemond calls, pulling his brother from Hugh. 

“Keep my family’s name out of your fucking mouth!” Aegon snarls as Aemond drags him backward through the door and onto the outdoor space. 

The scuffle has been noticed at this point, with several people leaning over one another to see what all the ruckus is. Hugh laughs from behind you, wiping some blood that trickles from the corner of his mouth. 

“Still fiery as ever, Egg,” Hugh teases, eyes alight with mischief, “Wondered where that went.” 

It’s Aemond who turns to him now, his gaze cold as ice. He doesn’t say anything, just stares him down until Hugh swallows, and breaks away from his gaze. Hugh coughs, before heading back inside, finally retreating. 

“I’m good, I’m good!” Aegon says to Cregan who is still attempting to corral him.

Helaena pushes through the crowd, a concerned expression on her face. 

“What the fuck happened?” Helaena asks, but Aegon shakes his head.

“He’s a prick, he deserved to be called out that’s all.”

“Now? You think now was the best time to do that?” Helaena growls, raising a brow.

Aegon clicks his tongue, sharply inhaling through his nose. He could tell her what Hugh said, but he stays quiet instead. 

“Great,” Hel says, exasperated, “Mom is going to skin us alive.”

She’s probably right. If you’ve learned anything about Alicent Hightower-Tarageyn, it’s that events like these are important to her. Image is everything. Aegon shrugs, but you can tell the thought of his mother being angry with him makes him anxious; his hands have begun to tremble. 

“Mr. Targaryen,” a security guard says approaching, “My apologies sir but we’ve received several complaints and are going to have to escort you from the party-”

“What?” you ask incredulously, “He didn’t do anything.”

“Ma’am-”

“He was helping me, you can’t kick him out,” you tell them, “If anything Hugh should leave!”

“It’s all good, no no, I’ll go,” Aegon assures them, reaching into the ice bucket on top of the outdoor bar and grabbing a bottle of champagne, “Party’s getting lame anyway.”

He begins walking down the steps and onto the grass that extends off into the golf courses in the distance. 

“Hel? You got a j with you? Wanna blow this place?” he calls, looking back with a lopsided grin.

Helaena smiles at her brother, rolling her eyes.

“Night’s going to hell anyway,” she says with a sigh, “Fuck it I guess.”

She hurries after Aegon, down the steps. 

“C’mon Aem! Live a little!” Aegon calls, walking backward toward the golf course. 

Aemond glances at you and you slip your hand into his, tugging him forward.

“Let’s go,” you tell him, grinning.

You turn suddenly, spotting Baela with Rhaena. Daemon stands behind her, observing the scene along with Rhaenyra who sits beside him. His hand rests on her shoulder as she strokes her protruding pregnant belly.

“Bae!” you call, motioning to her.

Her eyes are sad and she wets her lips looking back at her father.

“C’mon Baela!” Aegon calls, echoed by Helaena.

You can see Daemon’s brows knit together, see him mouthing to Baela trying to get her to stay. But Baela rushes forward with a smile on her face, holding her skirts as she runs down the steps and across the field. You hold your arms open as she barrels into you, embracing you in a spinning hug as you continue further away from the party. 

“Jackpot!” Aegon says, finding a row of golf carts. He jumps in the driver's seat and Helaena sits beside him. Aegon reaches back to pat the backseat, “My lady,” he says motioning for Baela to sit. 

She does with a laugh, just as Rhaena tumbles down the hill, with Sara in tow; their fingers laced together. 

They grab the next one just as Aegon revs the engine, taking off down the green hills. You can hear Helaena cheering as you watch them bob and weave through the grassy hills. Rhaena and Sara take off moments later.

You and Aemond start the next one, driving it slower than the rest at a more leisurely pace. You lean your head back, looking up at the stairs, and letting the warm summer night air pass over you. 

You can hear the laughter of your friends growing louder as the sounds of the gala begin to die in the distance.

You trail behind them for a while, before taking a detour down a more secluded part of the golf course. Aemond throws the golf cart in park, looking over at you. You reach in between your boobs, pulling out Baela’s phone and placing it on the dashboard with your own on top of it.

“What happened?” Aemond asks, his fingers stroking your arm.

“Nothing important,” you assure him, “Just Hugh being a douchebag. Aegon really helped me out, I’ll have to thank him.”

Aemond hums to acknowledge your comment.

“Aegon’s nothing if not loyal,” Aemond agrees, “Like a golden retriever.”

You snort at the comparison. 

“It was really nice,” you tell him, “How do you get asked to leave your own club?”

“Our family is just one of many donors,” Aemond tells you, “It’s not like we truly own the place.”

You nod, turning in the seat to face him.

“Where have they gone?” you ask, listening closely for the sound of your friends.

They must have gone pretty far ahead, all you can hear is the crickets chirping and the gentle sounds of waves crashing against the rocks in the distance. 

“Don’t know,” Aemond comments, “Here, let's sit here,” He motions to the rather spacious backward-facing rear seats, “Bet we can see the bay.”

You exit, sitting down on the rear seats. Sure enough, you can just make out Blackwater Bay in the distance. You lean into Aemond as he sits beside you.

You reach forward, placing your hand on his upper thigh beginning to stroke smooth circles. You mean it innocently enough to begin with; just wanting to be touching him in some capacity. But his breathing turns shallow, and you can soon feel his cock hardening, straining through his slacks. 

You move your hand over his bulge, squeezing gently, before letting your hands fiddle with the zipper. Aemond remains very still beside you.

“Can I?” you ask, heart, pounding with anticipation as you glance up at him. 

“Fuck, of course, you can,” he tells you as you continue to palm his bulge, “Anything you want.”

You ease the zipper down and dip your hands in to remove his half-hard cock from his slacks; running your hand up and down at a leisurely pace. Aemond hisses as you squeeze him; you can feel him pulsating in your palm. It sends warmth pooling in between your thighs and you wet your lips in anticipation.

“What do you want me to do?” you ask, innocently tilting your head to the side.

“Don’t tease me,” he says through gritted teeth.

You slide off the seat, positioning yourself in the space between his legs. He widens his stance, letting his knees fall open. Kneeling in front of him you give his cock a tug. 

“I don’t really think you’re not in a position to make demands,” you tease, ignoring his command. 

Aemond releases a throaty moan as you lean forward, wrapping your lips around the swollen head. You hum in appreciation, looking up at him through your lashes as you suckle at the tip.

“Fuck,” he whispers, as you widen your mouth letting your tongue taste the underside of his shaft, paying special attention to the vein that travels up his length. 

You drag your tongue up slowly, removing your lips and letting your tongue slide over his slit gathering the precum that leaks from it.

You swallow what your tongue collected, pumping him a few more times with just your hand. He’s so big. The perfect girth where your fingers struggle to touch each other when your hand is wrapped around him. 

Long, hard, and heavy; always demandingly pressed against you, eager to be buried inside you in whichever way you preferred. Such a pretty cock Aemond has it drives you fucking insane. You haven’t had the time yet to appreciate it the way you’d like to. But now is your opportunity. 

“You’re so pretty,” you comment, eyes wide as you watch your hand engulf him.

Aemond lets out a breathy laugh.

“Stop it,” he begs, his voice breaking into a slight whine; it makes you smile.

You lean forward, engulfing him fully in your mouth- at least as much as you can before you’re forced to pump the rest with your hand. Aemond’s hand flies to the back of your head keeping your mouth securely on him. You begin to move, dragging your mouth up and down along his length, and swirling your tongue around him. 

You hum at the feeling of his hand tightening on the back of your head as you continue. 

“Gods,” he groans, “So fucking perfect.” 

Your lips tug upwards in what you can manage of a smile with his cock stuffed to the hilt down your throat. You gag slightly as he rocks his hips, pressing further down your throat. Aemond’s head tilts back, his chest rising and falling with his uneven, shaky breath. 

You hollow your cheeks creating more suction as you try to take him deeper in your throat. Your heart is pounding and you try to even your breathing through your nose as you focus on not gagging on his thick length. 

“Fucking hell,” he whines, “Oh gods--- fuck that mouth.” His hips lurch forward and you moan around him, drool dribbling out the corner of your mouth and onto your chin. 

Aemond’s hand grips the back of your head, holding on for dear life as your hand joins your mouth in its efforts. Lewd, wet noises fill the summer air and you pull off him with a gasp.

“Seven hells,” he whimpers, as you lean forward, mouthing at his balls. 

You eagerly press your tongue against them, rolling them against your mouth as you continue to jerk him off with your hand. Aemond’s a mess, head falling back, eye squeezing shut in pleasure. You suckle at the soft skin between his balls, alternating your attention between the pair of them. 

“You like that baby?” you murmur, kissing up his shaft, “Like when I play with your balls?”

“Fuck yes,” he whimpers, “Oh fuck, feels so good-” his sentence ends in a desperate whimper as you take him fully in your mouth once more.

You bring your hand to cup his balls, gently massaging them as you suck him off. You love the feeling of having Aemond at your mercy; pride sears through your veins like fire at the messy state of him. The hand that isn’t on your head clutches the back of the seat, digging into the soft tan leather. 

You release him with a pop, tapping the head of his cock on your outstretched tongue. Aemond watches you, eye wide, as you kiss the swollen head of his cock, before smiling up at him. 

“Are you gonna cum?” you ask, as innocently as you can, eyes wide, “Want you to cum in my mouth.”

“Holy fucking--,” Aemond whines, as you suckle at the tip before dragging your lips down the side of his shaft, “Fuck yes, yes I’m gonna cum-” You lick a path up his shaft, engulfing him in your mouth once more.

You know he’s close, you can feel him pulsating in your mouth, but you want to drag this out as long as you can. You know from experience that Aemond isn’t usually the submissive type, and having him like this is a real treat.

“Fuck, gods you’re such a good girl,” Aemond praises as you move your head faster, “Shit..I fucking love this…like you so much..” Your cheeks warm at his praise, and pleasant butterflies flutter in your belly. 

You release him one final time, pumping him with your hand. You’re a drooling mess, hand and face covered in saliva as you grin up at him. 

“Let me taste your cum,” you tell him, “Please, give it to me, I want it so bad.”

“Fucking, yeah fuck I’ll give it to you,” Aemond whines, “So good, so fucking good, oh fuuuck.” His words die with a whimper as his dick twitches in your mouth and his warm, salty release hits the back of your throat.

You moan, taking it all, making sure to keep some in your mouth as you pull off of him. Aemond’s hand finds your chin, angling it upwards.

“Show me,” he asks, and you present your tongue to him before swallowing, “Such a fucking good girl.”

He drags you upwards onto his lap, kissing you harshly tasting his release on your tongue. He moans into your mouth and you wrap your arms around his neck.

“My good girl,” he murmurs between kisses, “Gods you’re perfect. My girl is so perfect.”

You’re preening at his praise, moaning happily against him as he continues to kiss you, moving to press his lips against your neck. 

His fingers move beneath your dress, just as the sound of tires can be heard in the distance, along with yelling. Aemond growls, biting down against your shoulder causing you to cry out at the mixture of pleasure and pain. You lift your hips as Aemond moves his semi-hard cock back into his pants, zipping them.

“This isn’t finished,” he promises, cupping his hand around the back of your neck and kissing you once more, “Don’t think I’m letting you get away with that.”

Anticipation tingles down your spine and you giggle against his mouth.

“What’re you going to do?”

“Oh just you fucking wait,” he murmurs, hands grabbing the meat of your ass. You can feel his smile against your mouth as he kisses you.

“Yo! Lovebirds! Yoo-hoo!” Aegon calls, bringing the golf cart to a screeching stop beside you. 

Helaena lurches forward as it stops, giggling maniacally. You can smell the weed from here, and laugh, pulling yourself from Aemond’s lap.

Aegon dramatically frowns, leaning against the steering wheel, as Sara and Rhaena pull up beside them. His eyes narrow.

“Are we interrupting something?” Aegon asks, tapping his finger against his chin.

“No,” you answer.

“Yes,” Aemond says, not missing a beat.

You slap him playfully on the chest.

“Too bad, we missed you losers,” Helaena sneers, but she gives you a happy smile. 

“Dude, look at the moon!” Rhaena says, stepping out of the cart and laying on the grass. Sara joins her, laying beside her. 

Baela gets out as well, and soon you’re all lying down facing the clear night sky. Sara points out different constellations, which Aegon struggles to identify until Sara is practically holding his hand, pointing to each star. 

Suddenly some sprinklers begin to go off in the distance and Baela chuckles, mentioning you’ll have to leave soon to avoid getting soaked. Aemond’s arm is draped underneath your head, and you curl into him, listening to the sound of his heart beating.

“Come back to mine?” Aemond asks, his voice a low murmur.

You hum, nuzzling against him.

“What about no sleepovers?” you tease and he pulls you closer.

“The rules are null and void,” he says firmly, pressing his lips against your forehead. Warmth floods through you and your chest swells with emotion. 

As you listen to the sound of crickets echoing around you a sharp pain pierces your chest. The month of August has always felt melancholic to you.

A month of endings.

The music of the sprinklers and the crickets suddenly changes into the sound of summer coming to an inevitable end. 

Of you and Aemond coming to an end.

You pull him closer, throwing your leg over his and tucking your head deeper into the crook of his neck. Breathing in his cologne, relishing the feeling of the kiss he places on the top of your head. 

You don’t want to think about that now. August is here, but it’s not over yet. 

This moment here in this field, wrapped up in his arms, is endless.

note: thank you so much for reading!! we've got 2 parts left besties!!

OLS Taglist 1: @talesofoldandnew, @aemondslefteyeball, @urmomsgirlfriend1, @castellomargot, @high-on-darren-criss, @diosademuerte, @padfooteyes, @tempo-rary-fix, @amirawritespoorly, @chainsawsangel, @toodlesxcuddles, @tssf-imagines, @malfoytargaryen, @nina2697, @glame, @joliettes, @yentroucnagol

@grungegrrrl, @melsunshine, @helaenaluvr

bold means tumblr would not let me tag!

[late-to-the-party-81]

The King's Last Concubine

AN: Welcome, welcome to the short one-shot that spiralled a little out of control. I’m sure none of you will complain. If you like cheesy historical romance and Bucky then you’ve come to the right place. In all honesty I could have made this story much, much longer, but unfortunately I don’t have the time, so it’s wrapped up a little fast and without as many misunderstandings as the usual Harlequin/Mills and Boon normally contains. I hope you like it anyway.

Beta’d by the lovely @seriouslydex - thank you for your assistance in wrangling this into coherence.

Likes are loved, reblogs are golden

Mood board by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

Bingo Fills - @buckybarnesbingo Square U1 - Kink: Concubine

Master list | BBB Master list

Summary: When Bucky takes over the throne after his Father’s death, he has better things to deal with than the group of concubines he’s inherited. He thinks the tradition is abhorrent and vows he wants no part of it. When he meets the newest member of the harem he finds his moral stance tested. How can he want the woman who was bought to please his father?

Relationship: King James ‘Bucky’ Barnes x Female Concubine Reader

Chapter word count: 10.2k

CW: Historical AU, Flowery historical language, Angst, Servitude, Lust, Male masturbation, Fluff, Miscommunication, Self-loathing, Jealousy, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Attempted Sexual Assault, Explicit Sexual Content, Declaration of feelings.

A quiet tension filled the air as you wandered your way around the gardens and corridors of the place you’d called home for the last six months. That’s when you’d been purchased - a gift for the elderly and ailing king, meant to boost his spirits and reignite his youthful zeal. However, all the youth and beauty in the world could not turn back the sands of time.

For the last few weeks the king had been getting weaker, not leaving his private rooms or entertaining any guests apart from his long faithful Queen, his heir, Prince James and his daughter, Princess Rebecca. It was a waiting game now, for the Royal Family, the country, and for you and the other members of the Harem.

Entering the solar, where all of you could spend your days in conversation, needlework, painting and reading, you could see Merith, the King’s favourite in an agitated conversation with Katya, the next concubine down in the pecking order. They had the most to lose when the inevitable happened, because it would be very unlikely that the Prince would wish to keep them around. Not only were they older than him, they had both also borne the King numerous children - it would be very strange for a new King to keep the mothers of his half siblings as concubines for himself. At best, the two women might hope to be housed somewhere pleasant in their retirement, maybe with a semi-wealthy husband. At worst they could be turfed out of the palace along with any of their children that the King hadn’t yet made provisions for.

As for your fate, that was also completely unknown. However, due to your age and the fact that you had only been here a short time, with very few interactions with the King, there was a chance that the Prince would want to keep you. You’d never seen him in the flesh, but you knew he was handsome from the glimpses you’d had of his portrait when you’d been led to and from the King’s chambers on those few occasions he had requested your company. However, despite what you had been purchased for, you had never actually lain with the King. He had tried and, as it was in your best interest, so had you, but the King was old and tired. 

Instead you’d provided him with company as best you could, rubbing his back, stroking his hair and reading him stories until he fell asleep and you could call the guards to escort you back to the Little Palace.

Of course, no-one knew what had occurred within the privacy of the King’s chambers, and if other concubines had had similar experiences they didn’t talk of it openly - it wouldn’t do to discuss the failing manhood of the person who held your life in their hands. However, what this meant was that you were still untouched by a man, with no experience other than what you had gifted yourself.

With a sigh, you crossed to the far side of the room, taking your place amongst the other younger and newer members of your unconventional community, picking up the sampler you’d been working on. There was no music being played and all conversations were kept to a minimum and spoken in whispers, out of a combination of respect and anxiety. The limbo dragged on.

Suddenly, the doors to the solar crashed open, and the King’s Equerry walked in, flanked by several guards.

“The King has died,” he announced. “Long live the King.”

The ladies fell into disarray.

“I really have to deal with that now?” Bucky asked of Coulson, his father’s, and now his, Equerry.

“I’m afraid so, your Majesty. It’s been two weeks since the late king passed away and decisions need to be made about those whose services you do not wish to retain. There may be some obvious candidates, but with others you may not know how you feel until you meet them.”

Bucky, now King James, sighed. It hadn’t come as a surprise when his father, King George, had passed away. His various ailments had worsened over the last few months and Bucky had actually felt relief for him at the end. The funeral had been last week and since then he’d been stuck in back to back meetings with the men who were now officially his advisors, sorting out matters of state. Admittedly, the fate of those who resided in the Little Palace hadn’t really occurred to him as important. It was an archaic tradition as far as he was concerned. Servants were one thing, but owning women just so you have a choice about who to fuck without any repercussions, just struck him as something that belonged firmly in the past. He still couldn’t get his head around how his mother had never once complained or commented about the practice - had never flinched when another Royal bastard was presented to the court so his father could make provision for them as he saw fit.

There was no question that any of the women who had provided his father with children - he wasn’t going to call them siblings - would have to be looked after in some way. He wasn’t a monster. The problem would be the others. There were about twenty or so of them, his father collecting them like fine artwork over his years on the throne and a few - and this thought turned Bucky’s stomach a little - were as young as his sister Rebecca. He didn’t feel as though he could just turn them out, however he didn’t want to keep them either. Without some kind of royal approval the women could be ostracised from normal society if their past were to become known, but could he really justify supporting all of them from the Royal purse for the rest of their days? Although, undoubtedly, there would be some noblemen more than happy to have his father’s cast offs as wives, especially as there had been no lack of suitors for their daughters. Those that had offered for them had obviously been hoping it would grant them a modicum more influence at court. Little did they know that wouldn’t be the case with him.

It also didn’t help that while Coulson could understand wanting to remove certain members of the Little Palance, he didn’t understand why the new King didn’t want to ‘get to know’ the rest of them. According to the Equerry, they were all very beautiful, demure, and accomplished, any one of them a suitable companion for lonely evenings. Apparently telling the dour man that if he was that taken with them he should feel free to fornicate with one himself, was not the done thing, but Bucky thought the look on Coulson’s face had been worth it. He’d then tried arguing that the ladies of the Little Palace deserved better than what they currently had, but his personal advisor had brushed the comment aside.

“These women want for nothing, Your Majesty. They sleep in the finest sheets, wear the finest fabrics, and eat the finest foods. Some would say they have a charmed life and what they gave up for it is very little in comparison to what they gain.”

“Fine,” he said with a defeated sigh. “I will at least deal with Merith, Katya and the other few that my dearly departed father put babies into, and maybe speak to the others. Let’s get this over and done with.”

Coulson smiled, obviously thinking that he’d won this round, and Bucky decided not to disabuse him. You have to pick your battles, as his mother was fond of telling him.

This time when the Equerry appeared, a fortnight after the death of King George, he sent nearly all of you out to the gardens, only keeping Merith, Katya and a few other of the ladies inside. It was clear that the women who were mothers to the late King’s bastards were about to find out their fate.

You walked slowly between the roses with your friend, Lila, the concubine who’d been obtained just a few months before you, swapping inconsequential small talk, neither wanting to verbalise what was actually on your minds - to say it out loud would be to court disaster. When the Royal Guards suddenly came outside you all stopped what you were doing, wondering if Master Coulson was going to deliver news to you all as well, but when a different, unexpected man appeared, you all lowered your gazes and dropped into deep curtsies. The King - the new King - was here. 

Anxiety rode through you, and all you could hear was the pounding of your heart. You were vaguely aware, from your peripheral vision, that Master Coulson was introducing the King to each member of his harem. You caught snatches of conversation, when the King asked each woman in turn their name and how long they had lived here. When they got to Lila next to you, you heard your friend giggle when the King asked her the same questions and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. You liked her, but she was always a little silly. Maybe she thought to flirt her way into the King’s affections?

When the two sets of feet stopped in front of you, you waited for Coulson’s say so before coming out of your curtsey and raising your head.

“And here, Your Majesty, is our newest young lady. You may greet the King, my dear.”

You stood, glad to get out of the deeply uncomfortable pose, and prepared to finally see him in the flesh for the first time.

“Your Highness,” you said, your voice a little more breathy than anticipated, but that was because it had been knocked from your lungs at the vision that greeted you. 

King James was tall and broad in the shoulders. It was clear that the painting you had seen had been created when he was still a young man, only just into his adulthood. The man who stood before you now was no stripling. He was fully grown and oozed confidence and authority. His eyes, a cross between pale blue and grey, which had not been adequately portrayed by the Royal artist. His cheekbones were high and pronounced, and his jaw exquisitely chiselled, even if it was partially obscured by his facial hair. The hair on his head was short at the sides, but fluffy and slightly untamed on top, just tempting you to run your fingers through it. Now you knew why Lila had giggled. 

He took your hand in his, and you marvelled at how large and strong it looked in comparison to your own. You could clearly see the resemblance to his father, but this was a man in the prime of his life and the thought that he would have none of the problems in the bedroom that had beset the late King flashed across your mind, unbidden.

When he asked your name in his deep but clear voice, you had to swallow before you answered so you didn’t stutter like a schoolgirl.

“Master Coulson said you were new. How long have you lived here?”

“Just over six months, Your Majesty.”

“And you like living in the Little Palace?”

You hesitated for a moment, working out the best way to answer. The other’s hadn’t been asked this question. “It’s very pleasant. Thank you for asking Your Majesty.”

His lips, full and pink, twitched, picking up on the diplomacy of your answer. “Only pleasant? Oh dear. Well maybe we can improve upon that in the near future.”

He skillfully removed his hand from yours and turned back to his Equerry, and you returned your gaze to the floor. As he walked away you realised your heart was still beating fast within your chest. However, it was no longer anxiety that made it do so, but rather the newly unfurled bloom of desire.

As soon as Bucky returned to the Palace proper, he dismissed Coulson and headed directly for his private chambers. His time in the Little Palace had mostly gone as well as expected, Meredith and her cohorts fawning over him dramatically in thanks for his generosity and then meeting what seemed like a legion of beautiful, yet dull as dishwater, young women, who his father had acquired to make himself feel young. What he hadn’t been expecting though was that last young lady - he didn’t even want to think about the word concubine and all of the linked meanings it held. He’d never seen someone so beautiful, and it had been clear from the short exchange of pleasantries that you had intelligence and humour to match.

He felt the rolling heat of lust raise its head and desperately tried to push it aside. As unique in his experience as you may be, he shouldn’t - couldn’t - think about you in this way. Not when he knew you’d spent time with his father. It was more than he could bear. But he couldn’t get the image of you from his mind. The curves of your body that deserved to be traced and explored with reverence. Your large, expressive eyes that tempted him to drown in their depths. Your lips that called him to kiss you over and over until you couldn’t speak or even breathe due to how much you wanted him.

Entering his room he shut the door harshly, but he didn’t care. He was unbearably hard within his trousers, and while not a new sensation by any means, it wasn’t one he’d felt in some time. As the Crown Prince he’d had to be circumspect in his affairs,but there was no-one he’d been actively courting. Now he was King the pressure would be on for him to find a suitable wife and start producing heirs. However, he didn’t intend to be like his father. Once he was married he would be faithful and treat his wife with respect. The devil on his shoulder reminded him that he wasn’t married yet and was free to do what he desired, but he tried to push it aside.

Bucky threw himself down on his bed but every time he closed his eyes you were there, hovering behind his eyelids. He palmed himself over his trousers, trying to get some relief from his state of arousal, but it was no good. Almost unconsciously he undid the fastenings, letting out a small sigh as the pressure was lessened, but then it was just too easy to take himself in hand. A few small strokes, just to take the edge off, became harder and longer, and the vision of you behind his closed eyes smiled at him coyly, tempting him to ruin her. 

He imagined kissing you and touching you. Tracing every peak and valley with his lips and tongue. He imagined you doing the same to him, taking him in your mouth, lips stretched wide and tears in your perfect eyes. He imagined driving into you, again and again, while you gripped his shoulders and tangled your legs around his waist. Marking you - claiming you - as you called out his name over and over and trembled around him.

Bucky came with a cry, his spend spilling over his hand and stomach, and leaving him with an aching, hollow feeling of disgust with himself. He needed to release you and the rest of the ladies of the Little Palace and there-by banish you from his thoughts.

The next day he put his plan into action. He set Coulson the task of going through the remaining residents, from oldest serving to newest and finding them a new situation. Respectable marriages were the first preference - the Crown could provide a dowry - but failing that independence and a stipend until they became financially solvent on their own. If this plan had the effect that you would be the last to leave, that was just an unfortunate by-product of the most logical way of sorting the whole thing out, wasn’t it?

The edict by the King that the Little Palace was being disbanded was met at first with some trepidation. The women were all of a flutter, wondering what it would mean for them, but when Marie, the most senior of the concubines now that Merith and the others who had children had retired, was informed that, should she approve him, a husband had been found for her, any anxiety morphed into jubilation. Over the coming weeks, the number of you dwindled and you couldn’t help but feel a little lost amongst all the celebration. You were a strange sisterhood, that was certain, and you hadn’t gotten along with everyone, but you wished them well with a smile, and mulled over your sense of unease in private.

You weren’t sure what it was that was making you worried. It wasn’t as though you’d be forced into anything you didn’t want. Letitia had rejected three potential husbands before settling on a fourth, much to Master Coulson’s despair, and Tiffany had outright declared she wanted no husband at all, her and Dana wishing to set up house together and start a school. This came as no surprise to any of you.

It also wasn’t because you were so entrenched in this life that the thought of anything else was scary - you’d had more life outside these walls than in it - however you had found a camaraderie here, a sense of belonging, as strange as that may seem, that you hadn’t had before. And despite the fact that the idea of being intimate with the old King had been stomach churning, once he realised each time that it wasn’t going to happen, you’d found you’d enjoyed providing him comfort and some sort of friendship. Maybe being here had spoiled you? You’d admit it wasn’t a hardship to live somewhere where all your meals and clothes were provided and all you had to do was entertain yourself unless your services were required, although you did wish for more sometimes - a cage was still a cage, no matter how gilded and glittered.

Maybe having a husband wouldn’t be so bad. Hopefully he’d let you have some freedom - have some hobby or interest to keep you occupied, other than keeping house and popping out babies. You couldn’t help but be nervous though, especially as the numbers of you lessened until it was just you and Lila left. 

Each time one of the ladies was preparing to leave, the King would come and thank her for her service. How any of you managed to keep a straight face when he said that was beyond you, but it did give you the chance to watch him unobserved. He really was handsome, and seemed so kind and earnest in his thanks. A true King and diplomat. But that wasn’t all he was. Every so often he would catch your eye and you would feel… something. And you couldn’t explain what it was, other than that you felt like a moth captivated by a flame, longing to get nearer and nearer, even if it would mean your doom. It wasn’t just physical, either - although you couldn’t deny that you’d had thoughts about that. You wanted to get to know him. The real him. His hopes and dreams. What motivated him.

You got your chance when you were sitting in the solar, enjoying the sun that streamed through the windows as you read your book. Lila was outside in the garden, taking a walk with her potential fiancee, a man named Lang who was apparently some minor aristocracy. Guards trailed them at a discrete distance, but you didn’t think there was anything to worry about. From the glimpses you’d caught of them, Master Lang appeared to be a convivial and respectful fellow. He walked with his hands behind his back, not trying to touch or grab at your friend, but he leant in close to talk intimately.  He also appeared to be letting Lila hold an equal part of the conversation and you watched as she giggled behind her hand at a number of points in response to what you guessed were jokes.

“They appear to be getting on well.”

A voice from behind you, made you jump and turn in your chair. At the realisation that King James was standing there, you leapt up and then immediately leant forward into a deep curtsey. 

“Your Majesty.”

How had you not noticed him enter? Why was he here?

“Please stand. There’s only the two of us here. I wanted to see for myself how Master Lang was comporting himself and this seemed like the best place to watch unobserved.”

He walked closer to the window and you continued to stand, your hands clasping each other, as you watched him from under your lowered lashes. Despite the number of times you’d seen him recently you were no less dazed by his beauty than you had been the first time. You allowed your gaze to travel over his body, admiring the way his clothes were cut to show off his defined figure. Silver threads were woven through the black fabric of his coat and they shimmered in the sunlight. You itched to smooth the cloth over the broadness of his shoulders.

As if sensing you watching him, the King turned back to you.

“Please don’t let me disturb you from whatever you were doing. Pretend that I’m not here.”

Your lips twitched. “That would be difficult, Your Majesty. You do stand out.” You gestured to the walls of the solar, a pale pink colour, and then at his attire. He looked down at himself and you were taken aback by the flush that made its way to his cheeks.

“Aah, yes. I see what you mean.” He moved away from the window then, and toward the chair opposite the one you’d been occupying when he’d surprised you. “Maybe then we could sit and talk for a while? What have you been doing with your days these last weeks?”

You gave him a small nod and took your seat. “Very little, Your Majesty, other than helping the others pack up their belongings as they leave. Some reading, some needlework. I have been practising my languages too. What have you been doing? Important affairs of state I would imagine.”

“It is not nearly as glamorous as people think. Lots of meetings that seem to stretch on forever, but that is nothing to the never-ending paperwork. I swear everyone in the country will have my signature soon. Lots of time to relax and do what you will, seems wonderful to me. I admit to being a little envious.” He smiled as he spoke, his face lighting up in boyish amusement.

“I assure you,” you stated, “that after a while even relaxing becomes as dull as any paperwork.”

The King chuckled at that. “Does it now? I’ll have to take your word for it. Now, tell me, what languages do you speak?”

“French and Spanish. A little Portuguese. And I’m trying to improve my Greek.” You lifted up your book to show him the writing on the front. He smiled at you and your heart beat faster.

“Impressive, my lady. My Greek is somewhat rusty, although my Russian is still good. Come, read for me and we shall see if I can follow you.”

Feeling shy, you lifted your book and began, haltingly at first, to read out loud, your tongue trying to wrap around the unfamiliar syllables. It had been a while since you had spoken out loud, normally preferring just to read, but as you became more confident the words flowed easier and you managed to glance up at him now and again.

The King was sitting, relaxed in his chair, legs outstretched with his ankles crossed. His eyes were closed as he rested his head on the chair back, arms settled on his chest with his fingers steepled. For a moment you could almost pretend this was a domestic scene of a wife reading to her husband after a long day. However, you were not his wife and he was not destined to be your husband. That would be someone else.

When you reached the end of your chapter, you gently closed your book, placing it on the side table, and the King opened his eyes and sat up again.

“You have a wonderful reading voice and you navigated the words very well - better than I’d have done, I’m sure. I’ve always thought learning languages a worthwhile endeavour and it is my deepest regret that I do not know more. I’ll take note to ensure that my Equerry looks to place you in a situation where your skills will be appreciated. I have a feeling,” he said with a glance back towards the window where his friend was still busy gently wooing yours, “that you will soon be the only one here.

You felt heat rushing to your cheeks at the compliment. “That would be greatly appreciated, Your Majesty. I know that not all men wish for an intelligent wife, but it would be nice to not have to appear vapid just to gain favour with my spouse.”

King James snorted. “I’ll admit that I do not understand those who only wish for a doll for a wife. If you’re going to spend the rest of your days together, would it not be better to have someone to converse with. Someone to challenge you mentally. It would be rather dull otherwise.”

“I suppose,” you ventured, “that those men are probably the type to find other ways - other people - to keep them occupied.” A small smile crept across his lips at your statement.

“And I suppose you are correct, my lady. But if that is the case then those men have chosen poorly. I cannot imagine marrying someone, only to then spend all my free time avoiding them. Somewhat defeats the point of it all, in my opinion.”

“Well, I had guessed some of that about you, Your Majesty. What with you getting rid of this age-old tradition.” You gestured once again to the room around you but when you turned back to him, it was to see that the King’s eyes had narrowed slightly, studying you.

“And how do you feel about that?”

You sensed his words were a test and you licked your lips nervously before you answered.

“I have no real opinion, Sire. I live to serve and am happy to do what my King commands of me.”

There was a strange look on his face. He was no longer smiling and while he didn’t appear angry with you, his demeanor was now far more chilly than it had been a moment ago.

“And were you happy to carry out the commands of my late father?”

You hesitated before answering. “His Royal Highness was most kind to me. I was happy to serve him.”

You barely heard him mutter “I bet you were” under his breath before he suddenly stood, and you scrambled to your feet after him. 

“This has been an illuminating chat, my lady, and I thank you for your company. Soon you will be free of this place and can put this part of your life behind you.”

He nodded his head and once again you dropped into a deep curtsey, your eyes locked to the floor. You stayed that way as his footsteps retreated across the marble floor and you wondered what it was you had said that had turned him so cold.

Once again, Bucky found himself stalking into the sanctuary of his private chambers. Damn you, damn his father, and damn this ridiculous fascination of his. Whilst he’d tried to tell himself that the only reason he went to the Little Palace was to get a feeling for whether his friend was getting along with his potential betrothed, he also couldn’t deny the fact that he’d known you would be there as well, all alone.

He’d been enjoying your conversation until he’d been reminded why you were even there in the first place and sabotaged himself by bringing up his father. Then you’d all but admitted that you’d enjoyed doing what you did. Bucky felt sick at the thought. 

Images of you tortured him day and night, and spending time with you today had obviously been ill-advised because now he had more memories to draw on. The way you spoke so passionately and knowledgeably about the ways of the world. The way that you smiled and joked when you were relaxed.

Bucky’s fingers longed to pick up a charcoal and try to capture the way the sunlight had slid over the planes of your face, giving you an ethereal, other-worldly look, like some fae creature sent to enrapture him. Instead he tugged on the bell-pull, asking the page who appeared to go and fetch Coulson. He then paced up and down the room, chewing on his thumb nail for the few minutes it took the Equerry to appear.

“How can I serve you, Your Majesty?” Coulson asked with a low bow.

“I want the matters with Lang organised as soon as possible and the remaining occupant of the Little Palace resituated with all speed. It’s high-time this issue was finished, once and for all.

It had been a week since Lila left. A week in which you’d spent nearly every waking moment alone, other than when the servants were helping you dress and bringing you food. Although you mustn’t forget the omni-present guards stationed outside various doors. Which meant it was two weeks since the conversation with the King that had left you feeling more confused than ever.

Lila had returned from her sojourn around the garden gushing about Master Lang and his attributes. About how handsome and kind and funny he was, and how certain she was that they would suit. You plastered a smile to your face and said all the right things, but you couldn’t seem to concentrate on your friend’s happiness, your thoughts consumed by the memory of how the King’s face had looked at the end of your exchange.

He’d been so happy and relaxed, then suddenly so cold and closed. It was obviously no secret that he didn’t like the fact that his father had had concubines, but it had happened and to deny why you were living there would be foolish. Which is why you’d answered so diplomatically - he didn’t need to know what did or didn’t happen in the privacy of the late King’s chambers, and he probably didn’t want to know. What son would want those details? But he had asked a question and you’d answered the best way you knew how.

It hurt because you’d actually been enjoying yourself, and thought that maybe he’d been enjoying himself as well. There’d been a strange warmth inside you as the pair of you had talked and teased and joked, and over the last few days you found yourself wishing you could feel it again.

However, now you had something else to occupy your mind. Almost as soon as Lila had left to get married - and you were sad you couldn’t be with her on her big day - Master Coulson had come to tell you that arrangements were being made at pace for your own future. It was only mildly surprising then, when he’d come to you this morning to tell you that a potential husband had been found and you should prepare yourself to have dinner this evening. He passed you over some papers, giving you details of the man you were to meet.

Apparently he was a Baron, a widower, and a few years older than King James. His seat was on the other side of the country and apparently quite large, with the main house boasting stables, a library, and a formal rose garden. As you read through the information you pulled your lower lip between your teeth. It all looked good on paper, but you needed to be sure. You didn’t want to swap one cage for another - you had to at least like Baron Zemo, and him you. It seemed as though he spoke numerous languages, so at least you had one thing in common with him. Hopefully all would go well, and you could consign this place and thoughts of the King to the past.

A few hours later and you were putting the finishing touches to your toilette. You dabbed some rosewater behind your ears and smoothed your hands down the front of your gown. It was one of your favourites and you’d worn it every time you’d been to visit the late King. He’d always complimented it, saying that the colour of the silk brought out your eyes. You hoped the Baron would like it as well. With a gentle knock on the door, one of the servants let you know that your guest had arrived and was waiting for you in the solar. You took a deep breath and walked down the hall.

As you entered, you saw a man, dressed in deep purple, looking out of the window, with his back to you. 

“Baron Zemo, you are most welcome,” you said as you dropped into a curtsey. You heard him turn and then a be-ringed hand appeared in front of your eyes, offering to help you back to your feet.

“Thank you for having me here, my lady,” he replied as you stood. “I have been intrigued to meet you ever since the King wrote to me about your situation.”

You took in his features as he smiled gently at you. He had warm hazel eyes, straight, mid-brown hair that lay across his brow, and was clean shaven. He was slightly taller than you, but not by much and you pushed away the rogue thought about how King James virtually towered over you.

“Shall we sit and dine, and hopefully get to know one another better, sir?” you suggested.

“You’ve read my mind, my dear. There is nothing like good food, good wine, and good conversation, is there?” The Baron walked you over to the small dining table that had been set up and assisted you into your seat, and you felt like a grand lady.

The next two hours passed by amenably. The Baron was eloquent and charming, and when he found out that you spoke other languages he insisted on conversing with you in them, gently correcting your pronunciation and helping you when a particular word or phrase was outside your knowledge. At the end of the meal you were full, warm and a little tipsy from the wine - it wasn’t in your nature to imbibe often.

“Maybe,” Zemo suggested, “we should take a turn about the gardens? A walk in the cool night air would probably help aid digestion. What do you think, my lady?”

“I think that would be delightful.” You allowed him to help you with your chair once more and when you stumbled he linked your arm into his and walked you outside, away from the guards and servants who’d been present in the solar with you. 

The garden was illuminated with lanterns in addition to the lights from the solar, and the pair of you walked companionably along the pathways. So far he’d done nothing to worry you, and hadn’t been at all standoffish. You would have to give serious thought into accepting his suit, especially as you were unlikely to receive better. The problem with being the last to be situated was that it also meant that your options for a suitable marriage were narrower.

“You’re awfully quiet, my dear. What’s going through that beautiful head of yours?” You ducked your head at the compliment and couldn’t help but smile.

“In all honesty, my lord? I was thinking about how lovely this evening has been. I will admit to some trepidation, which I’m sure you can forgive me for. Things like this are all too new for me.”

“No forgiveness needed,” he said with a smile, one much wider than those he’d displayed earlier and you felt your heart pick up in your chest, although you couldn’t immediately say why. “It’s completely understandable. But can I say that you have vastly surpassed my expectations. The information given to me about you greatly downplayed your beauty and intelligence. And, if I may be so bold, I find myself captivated.”

You felt your cheeks warm, but you also felt a little uncomfortable, at his zealousness. Or maybe it was the wine? “That is kind of you to say, sir. However, I’m finding myself getting a little chilled. Maybe we should return inside?”

With a swiftness that startled you, the Baron took hold of your shoulders and steered you backwards until you came into contact with the wall. You gasped in shock at both the impact and his change in demeanour.

“Maybe I can find a way to warm you up?” He quipped before his lips came down onto yours, his tongue thrusting into your mouth and one hand falling to your leg, inching your skirts upwards. You tore your mouth from his and turned your head, but his lips just zeroed in on your throat instead, sucking and nipping.

“Sir! Get off me!” You tried to push him, but his bulk had you pinned. His questing hand breached the hem of your skirts and he started to grope at your thigh, and his lips trailed further down to the neckline of your dress. “I said get off!”

The Baron raised his head and stilled his hand, but didn’t move away. “Surely you must miss this? The touch of a man. And think how much better it will be with someone who is younger and knows how to please a woman.”

“I miss it less than you think,” you ground out between clenched teeth. “And I did not ask you for this. Let me go.”

He smiled predatorily and slid his hand up to cup your mound over your underwear. “Did you really think I would offer for you without seeing if you had all the necessary attributes I’m looking for. I need an heir, and intelligence and beauty can’t provide that. And let’s face it, it’s not as though you’re a missish virgin keeping herself pure for her wedding night.”

His hand started to tug at your underthings and you closed your eyes tight as fear started to take over. However, just as you felt the first touch of his fingers on your intimate flesh his weight was suddenly gone.

“I believe the lady said no, Baron Zemo.”

Your eyes shot open, and there was King James, standing between you and the Baron, who was now sprawled on the ground. The dim light of the lanterns partially lit his face and that, combined with his expression, made him look like an avenging angel. Then he turned towards you and his expression softened.

“Are you alright, my lady?”

Without the Baron’s hands on you, your skirts fell back to your ankles and you pushed yourself away from the wall to stand. 

You nodded and gave a little cough to clear your throat. “I’m fine, Your Majesty.”

The Baron scrambled to his feet and brushed the dust and gravel from his coat.

“Just a little misunderstanding between my fianceé and myself, Your Majesty. No harm done,” he said, his voice smooth and oily.

You took a step forward, your body trembling with anger. “I don’t believe that I’ve accepted your suit, sir. And after that display of ungentlemanly conduct I am now fully disinclined to do so.”

The Baron’s eyes snapped to yours, narrowing and he let his facade fully drop away. “Be quiet, whore. Who else would have you? You’re used goods, even if the one who did the using was the former King. You should be grateful I’m even considering you.”

You shifted, intending to step forward again and slap him, but the King held out his hand stopping you.

“You are out of line, Baron. No matter her history, the lady is still just that. A lady. And how you treat her is tells me that, despite your title, you are no gentleman.” His voice was steady, but you could pick up the undercurrent of rage - could see it in the way he was holding himself and the tick in his jaw.

Baron Zemo let out a bark of laughter, apparently oblivious to the danger he was in. “My dear James, I cannot believe how much you are defending one of your fathers handmaidens. She was obtained by him for one purpose, but you think it’s unreasonable for me to see if she lives up to that purpose before I marry her.” He peered at the King, then his eyes widened as though he’d made a startling revelation. “Do I sense some jealousy raising its head here?” He laughed again. “I should have realised there was a reason you kept her until last. Of course - she’s your whore as…”

He didn’t get to finish his vile words, because King James’ arm snapped out and he punched the Baron right on the jaw, then watched impassively as the man crumpled back to the ground. Then, just as suddenly, he turned towards you fully and without a word scooped you up into his arms. You squeaked and threw your arms around his neck as he walked briskly back towards the solar. As he made his way inside, the guards stood to attention but didn’t turn to look at you, however, you still hid your face in his neck from embarrassment.

“There’s some filth in the garden to be sent packing.” The King’s voice rumbled in your ear as he spoke to the guards, and then he was turning with you in his arms and striding down the corridor that led to the private chambers. 

“Which one?” he asked gruffly, and you uncurled from his chest slightly so you could point. He shouldered your door open and then kicked it shut before letting you down, your body sliding over his as he did so.

You looked up at him, eyes wide and heart racing, not even noticing that your hands still rested on the slope of his chest and that his hands were still on your waist.

“You’re sure you're alright?” he queried again, looking down at you with concern.

“Absolutely. You stopped him. You…” You started to shake then as you realised how close you’d come to real harm. Without a word, the king steered you over to the edge of your bed and you both sat down, your small hands held in his larger ones, one of his thumbs rubbing over the delicate skin near your knuckles.

“Just breathe, my lady. You’ve had a shock. I’m glad I was there…” he stopped mid-sentence and freed one of his hands to turn your head and bare your neck to him. You swore you heard him growl. “He marked you. I’m going to kill him.”

You took hold of his wrist and pulled it down so you could turn back to face him. “It’s nothing. Really. It will fade and in a few days it’ll be a memory. Then we can try again.”

He peered at you, confused.

“Try and find me a husband,” you clarified and then smiled in an effort to lighten the atmosphere in the room.

“No.” King James pulled himself away sharply and stood, his back to you.

Now you were the one who was confused. “What do you mean,’No’? ‘No’ to a few days or ‘No’ to a husband? I don’t understand.”

“Either. Both,” he snapped, still not turning around.

“Alright,” you replied. “We’ll find me somewhere to live, then. Discuss a suitable stipend amount like Master Coulson did with some of the others who refused a husband.”

“Not that, either.” He ground the words out and you felt your patience waning, frustration overtaking your confusion. You stood up and stepped closer.

“So no husband and no stipend. What are you suggesting? That I just leave?” You couldn’t keep the hysterical note from your voice.

He spun on his heel and moved into your personal space, just as the Baron had done only a few minutes ago. However you didn’t feel anxious or uncomfortable, and the warm feeling inside you was back, despite your anger at how contrary he was being.

“Not at all,” he said quietly, his eyes trained on you. 

On your face. 

On your lips.

“I thought you wanted me out of here. You don’t want any concubines, remember?” You arched your eyebrow, challenging him.

He leant forwards and your breath caught in your throat, his stormy eyes now all you could see.

“I still don’t,” he murmured and then pressed his lips to yours.

This kiss was entirely different to the Baron’s assault. It was soft and gentle. Coaxing, not claiming. The King’s hands came up to cup your face and you curled your own into the front of his jacket. The heat within you rose in intensity and you kissed him back, opening your mouth and letting him in. He moaned when you did, one hand sliding to your hair and the other to the small of your back, pulling you close to him. You could feel the evidence of his arousal, but it didn’t scare you. In fact it thrilled you. It was all the deepest thoughts you’d kept to yourself come to life, and they took you over. 

Your nimble fingers worked the buttons of his jacket and as they came undone the King let go of you to shuck it off. That was followed quickly by his cravat and waistcoat, thrown without care across your room, and then he pulled his shirt free of his trousers and toed off his shoes. He took you back in his embrace then, kissing you with more passion and your hands found their way under his shirt, stroking across the hard planes of his chest. He nipped at your lower lip in retaliation and you gasped as the brief stinging shot to your core.

“Tell me you want this,” he breathed into your mouth.

“I do,” you whispered back. You’d never been as sure of anything as you were now - consequences be damned. They were a problem for tomorrow.

Part of Bucky couldn’t believe what he was doing, because he really shouldn’t be doing it. He was a King and should be the better person. But, oh, how he wanted to be selfish for once and slake this longing he had for you. 

He hadn’t been able to stop himself from coming to see how you and the Baron were getting on, partially to assuage his guilt and partially to torture himself. When he’d found you both absent from the solar, one of the guards had told him you’d gone for a walk together. As he’d stepped outside and neither of you had been in the closer part of the garden a sense of unease had washed over him. Then he’d heard you shout and raced around a corner to see you pushing at the Baron as he held you against the wall, trying to violate you.

He’d barely been able to restrain himself when he saw that, only daring to separate you and check that you were alright. But then the Baron had started to spew his hurtful, cruel words and his resolve had crumbled. He’d had to make sure you were safe. He’d needed it like air.

Upon getting you inside, he’d told himself that he would just double check that you were alright and then leave, but then he’d seen the bruise on your neck and you’d tried to placate him with talk of trying to find a new suitor and he’d lost any sense of decorum. 

There would be no other husband, no grand house and pension, because you were his. You were his oxygen - his sunlight. His joy and his misery and his desire all rolled into one. So he’d kissed you, almost no better than the Baron, but then you’d kissed him back. Clung to him. You’d made it plain that you wanted him too, first with your actions and then your words.

Mentally calling himself a fool, Bucky spun you around and tugged at the closure of your dress, the multitude of tiny buttons that held it together flying across the room. He didn’t care, though. He could buy you a new dress. A thousand new dresses. He eased the open neckline over your shoulders and pushed the multiple layers of silk down your frame. Taking your hand, he helped you step out of the froth of fabric and you kicked off your slippers at the same time with a giggle that shot through him like a bolt of lightning. 

Bucky pulled you back to him with a groan and walked you towards the bed, laughing with you when you both tumbled onto it with a bounce. Your hands, so small and delicate, found his chest again, and he lent up and pulled his shirt over his head, watching you as your eyes darkened with desire as you took in what you saw. You traced your fingers over the definition of his abdominals and pectorals and Bucky shivered. 

“I want you, Your Majesty.” Your voice was low and breathy, and fuck did he just want to bury himself in you. Feast on you.

“Bucky,” he rasped. “Call me Bucky. There is no King here tonight.”

You came back together, kissing and touching and through it you both messily and awkwardly helped each other remove the rest of the clothes that separated you. As soon as your breasts were bared to him, Bucky couldn’t hold back, latching onto your puckered nipples, one after the other, drawing squeaks and moans from you, more intoxicating than any sounds he’d imagined in his private imaginings. 

His right hand skirted down your body, finding its way between your legs and you opened for him. He moaned around breast as he found your wetness and began to toy with you. Bucky teased your clit and stroked your folds, captivated by how more arousal spilled from you. When he slid a testing finger into you, you gripped his hair and arched into his hand, your soft mewl turning to a strangled gasp and he felt undeniably powerful, a small part of him, one he didn’t want to really acknowledge, feeling as though he was competing with the memory of his father. He was determined to erase it. After tonight there would only be him.

When Bucky added a second finger into your warm channel and circled his thumb on your clit, you whimpered his name. Not ‘Your Majesty’ or ‘Sire’, but ‘Bucky’ as he’d asked you. He lifted his head and rose back up your body, capturing your lips and swallowing your cries as he drove you higher and higher. Your hands now clutched his shoulders, your short, manicured nails digging into him, using him as an anchor, lest you float away into the ether. He felt your body quiver beneath him as you neared the precipice of your pleasure and then the next second you were tumbling over it, your body spasming around his fingers, your mouth drawing all the oxygen from his lungs into your own.

Bucky kissed you through it, slowing his hand before pulling it away slowly. He shifted on the bed, kneeling between your limp legs, and as you watched him with hooded, lust filled eyes, he brought his fingers to his mouth and tasted your essence. He groaned as he did so, promising himself that he would drink directly from your source soon, but he couldn’t hold back his desire to fully claim you any longer. 

As his hand dropped to his cock, your eyes followed it, and you took your first real look at him. He couldn’t help but smile as your eyes widened and you tentatively raised your own hand towards his erection. He took hold of it and wrapped it around his length, marvelling at how your fingers didn’t meet. Your gaze flicked between his face and his cock, unsure which you wanted to watch. However, after a few minutes it was too torturous, and he repositioned himself to kiss you again and run his cock between your wet folds. Your hips rolled beneath him as you let out small whimpers of need and desire and he couldn’t hold back any longer.

Bucky reached between you, lined himself up and sank into your warmth.

The cry of ecstasy you let out caught him by surprise and he looked down into your eyes. The truth shone out of them as you pulled in breath after ragged breath, your body struggling to adjust to his size, despite what he’d done to you only minutes before. He couldn’t really process it, but an animalistic part of him howled in pleasure at the realisation that you’d been untouched and consumed any remaining restraint.

Bucky snapped his hips, watching in awe as your eyes rolled in your head and the breath was pushed from your lungs. It was an addictive sight and he thrust into you again and again, unable to stop, needing to see your reaction. You clutched his biceps as he braced himself, your head thrown back and he never wanted to see you any other way - debauched and ruined on his cock. 

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful. Can you touch yourself for me, sweetheart?”

You mumbled incoherently but did as he’d asked, your hand moving between you, and Bucky knew when you’d found your centre from the way you clenched around him. He groaned at the sensation and let it spur him on. He dipped his hips, changing the angle of his thrusts and when you let out a wail he knew he’d found the right spot.

“That’s it, beautiful. Come apart for me. Come on my cock.” 

You screamed and spasmed around him and his rational brain knew he should pull out and spill himself over the sheets, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t not have this. He cried out, throwing back his own head, and surrendered to the inevitable.

It took you a while to come back to yourself, because what you’d just experience was so different from what you’d been told about. The King - Bucky - was cuddled up behind you, his arms holding you close and his nose pressed into your hair, dozing. You turned in his embrace and his long, dark eyelashes fluttered open.

“Hi,” you breathed cautiously, unsure of how you should be acting. However, when he softly smiled at you, you felt your heart leap inside your chest.

“Hello, yourself.” He dropped a gentle kiss to your lips and you smiled in return and relaxed. He was obviously content to stay in your private, intimate bubble for at least a short time more and you were more than happy to indulge him. You didn’t want to think about how you’d feel when this ended, it would hurt too much.

Pushing yourself up onto one elbow you looked down at him and idly traced invisible designs across his chest with your finger tip.

“So, Bucky, huh? Where does that come from?” 

He chuckled at your teasing tone. “From my sister, Princess Rebecca. Or as I call her, Becca-Boo or Sprout. My second name is Buchanan, and when she was learning to talk she couldn’t say it. Whenever she said ‘Bucky’ it would make me laugh, so she kept doing it and then refused to call me anything else. Then my mother picked it up, because if she called me James, Becca would stamp her foot and tell her off. And I liked it. It helped me separate the two parts of myself - Bucky, the normal man with normal wants, desires and hobbies etcetera, and James, heir to the throne, with duties and responsibilities who has to keep himself apart from those around him.”

There was a melancholy tone to his words, and you couldn’t help but bend down and press a light kiss to his lips. “Well I like Bucky.”

He brought his hand up to the nape of your neck, returning the kiss, and you wished that reality could just stay firmly outside for the rest of time.

When Bucky broke the kiss, he looked up at you with searching eyes.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked quietly and you immediately knew what he was talking about. You shrugged one shoulder.

“Does it matter? Would it have changed what just happened between us? Would you have thought differently of me?”

“No, it wouldn’t have changed what just happened, but I won’t lie and say I wouldn’t have treated you differently. I thought harshly of you, driven by jealousy. How could I allow myself to like you, desire you, when you had lain with my father? I was jealous of a ghost for having claimed you first, and I hated myself for feeling that way. That was why I acted coldly to you when we conversed in the solar. What you said. You made it sound as if you’d enjoyed being with him and ugly thoughts filled my head.” Bucky’s brow furrowed as he spoke and you itched to smooth out the lines that formed there.

“Well, it isn’t really the done thing to speak out loud about the King’s impotence,” you pointed out. “Especially with his own son. I was trying to answer truthfully, but without going into detail. And I suppose I did enjoy spending time with him. He may not have been the type of father you wished, or the husband your mother wanted, but he was still a man. We’d talk, mostly. I like to think that I gave him some comfort and companionship. I can’t say that I’m unhappy about the way things turned out.” You looked at him coyly from under your lashes and he laughed.

“You liked being claimed by me? You wanton wretch,” he teased.

“It was definitely different, and much better, than what I’d been led to believe.” He growled playfully, and in one deft move rose up and pushed you back to the mattress, caging you in with his arms. You brought your hand up and brushed the back of it over his cheek. “If I’m going to be a concubine, I’m glad that I’m yours.”

At your words, Bucky reared back, as if you’d slapped him and you immediately started to apologise. “I’m sorry, Sire. I shouldn’t have presumed…” Shame and guilt washed over you at how far you’d sunk into your daydream, and you fought your way out of the sheets. Rising from the bed, you found your shift in the heap of clothing on the floor and pulled it over your head. “I will leave you to your dressing and wait for instructions from Master Coulson later.” You bobbed a curtsey and turned toward the door, your hand reaching for the handle, eager to put space between you.

“Stop!” His command made you freeze mid step, your arm lowering back to your side. In a moment he was behind you, his hands firmly gripping your upper arms.

“You are not my concubine. I never wanted one, and I won’t start now.” He spun you, and when you didn’t raise your head, staring instead at a freckle near his collarbone, he tucked a finger under your chin and made you look at him. “You deserve more than that, my darling.” His tone softened. “You will be my wife. That is, if you will have me?”

You looked at him in shock. “What? How can I be your wife? You are the King and I am, well, just me.”

“And as the King, I can do what I want. And for anyone who gets pedantic about your previous status, there is precedent. Concubines have been turned into Queens before.”

You pulled yourself from his hold, raising your arms up in confusion. “You do not need to speak of marriage, just because you have bedded me and do not want a concubine.”

“This is not solely because we have lain together, sweet fool. I love you.”

His words made you stop and you wondered if you’d misheard, but he continued. 

“I fear I have done since I first laid eyes on you. And I just hope that maybe you can learn to love me too. Bucky, that is. Not just James, your King.” He reached out imploringly toward you. You looked back at him and then at his hand, before accepting it as you stepped forward, a broad smile making its way across your face.

“Learn to love you? That implies that I don’t already. How could I not, even if you were being grumpy and contrary.”

He wrapped you up in his embrace and looked down at you, eyes full of mischief. “Contrary? Is that anyway to speak to your King?”

“It is how a Queen speaks to her husband,” you joked back.

“Is that so? Then I must make you my Queen as soon as possible.” He closed the remaining distance between you, kissing you with vigour before lifting you and returning you both to the bed.

“However, nothing can be done until tomorrow. Whatever shall we do until then?” he drawled with mock innocence.

“I have a few ideas, Your Majesty,” you replied, mimicking his tone.

He shook his head. “Bucky, remember?”

“Bucky,” you agreed.

The End

Tag list: @christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @wolfsmom1, @doasyoudesireandlive, @sonatabee-blog, @goldylions, @galactusdevourerofworlds, @apenny4thots, @crayongirl-linz, @mrs-illyrian-baby, @wheezy-stucky, @km-ffluv

[forcebewitht]

Ma Belle Evangeline (Malleus Draconia x Reader)

...This had been the most fun evening Malleus had in centuries. The enigmatic Fae prince was positively beaming out a warm smile, and the lovely individual by the name of Y/N currently walking beside him seemed to be enjoying themselves just as much. The two had spent the evening examining the school's various gargoyles and other stone-like structures for a bit of a relaxation period for them both. Lilia had to subdue Sebek's nerves and Silver's questioning all at once in order for the two to head off alone. The mysterious Vanrouge seemed to enjoy the smile that the prince got upon his pale features whenever he would be around their beautiful self and form- so, what kind of "father" would he be if he didn't help his little family along as best as he could, hmm~

Malleus strolled to a nearby tree, the moonlight utterly radiant against both of the figures cloaked in the night. His lips perked up into an all too soft smile as he allowed a hand to trail up within the high branches. Spring was in full swing- so the heavenly aroma of cherry blossoms drifted into the senses of the lovely person below. A perfectly pale pink bud is plucked from the tree above, the Fae turning his body. He smiles even more...Great Seven, the way their skin glistened in that moonlight made them look like an angel….

"...Here, my dear Y/N~" Given a motion, Malleus gently had them turn their head in his general direction. The flower is tucked behind their ear as the Draconia male hums at his work. "A perfectly soft flower to celebrate your eternally soft beauty…." Malleus smirked in an almost dopey way upon his own words, his heart nearly leaping from his chest when he hears the bright Child of Man giggle. Ahhh, his heart was all aflutter now~

...Soon, Malleus led them to a spot off to the side of a nearby creek. A little picnic area completely set up with a blanket, basket, a candle, and some glasses were all properly positioned for the arrival of the two. The Fae couldn't contain his smile at the sight of the individual's eyes lighting up like that. Such a joy. However, upon spotting their partially arched brow at the sight of the basket, Malleus laughed. "No, before you ask, Lilia did not prepare this for us~" That got an exhale of relief to release from the lips of Y/N. Thank goodness.

Malleus assisted the lovely person in order to sit upon the blanket spread out on the ground. Yeah- it took Malleus a second because, let's be honest- he's pretty tall! However, he soon was able to sit beside them on the ground. Fireflies immediately began to float up around the night sky as the two huddled together under the stars. The food is soon retrieved and placed out onto little plates- he had made cute little sandwiches with the crusts cut off. Maybe that's why he kept flexing his hands every now and then. How cute! A bottle of a sparkling cider is soon retrieved and poured into their glasses. Malleus drew the sweet dear to him, now smooching the top of their forehead. They then both dig in, idly chatting away here and there and laughing into the night…

….And soon, Malleus retrieved one of the various instruments he could play- a bass. He smiles, now gently cracking his knuckles. In a sudden sweet yet swift change of events, the Fae began to sing. "Look how she lights up...the sky...ma belle...Evangeline~" His deep, soothing voice dipped in and out of each note with ease, his lips perking up into a soft smile at their own shocked reaction. "So far above me...yet I...know her heart...belongs...to only me~" Malleus soon stood up, fireflies soaring over to the bass to play it for him. He had them stand up, now singing sweetly into their ear for a moment before he began to spin them around. "You're my Queen of the night...so still...so bright...if someone as beautiful as she….could love...someone...like me? Love always finds a way….it's true...and I love you...Evangeline~"

Lilia stood behind a tree, grinning. He began to softly play a trumpet along to the beat, Silver and Sebek working together to have the cherry blossom petals fall down around the pair as they waltzed. Malleus smiled at their assistance, continuing on with his little princess/prince. "Love is beautiful...love is wonderful...love is everything….do you agree?" Y/N is hauled up into the air and lightly spun around, the prince chuckling at their cute little reaction. "...Shall we see?" Guess he couldn't pronounce that French part right. That's cute. He soon brought them back down to the ground on their feet, slowly dipping them to the floor. "Look how...she lights up...the sky. I...I love you….my Y/N~" Malleus gently tilted the head of the Child Of Man a bit as they linked their arms around his neck softly. He smiled down at their form, gently kissing them into the night as Lilia's trumpet played them out.

Cherry blossom petals scattering down all around them, the prince and the princess/fellow prince held each other in their arms into the night...for they were his Evangeline.

~End~

(Hello hello, dear Readers~! Decided to edit a little writing of mine from a while back to be readable for one and all~! I'm debating creating the 18+ blog still with writings- and I am also waiting on replies from my latest poll post, so I'd appreciate feedback~! Until next time 💕✨️)

[howyouloveyourdragon]

Sweet Girl

pronouns: she/her (afab) warnings: smut (piv, oral (male & female receiving), soft, rough), hickeys, possessiveness, incest kinks: light degradation, spit, praise, corruption, overstimulation summary: Aegon and Aemond are less than impressed when they hear that their sweet girl has been betrothed to a man of House Blackwood. They decide she must be claimed in every way a dragon can be claimed and perhaps they may discover even more. pairing/s: Aemond x reader x Aegon dividers by: firefly-graphics wordcount: 4,221

His heart hammers at the sight. His nose twists at the display. His hand clasps a cup to raise. “Final tribute!” Aemond announces, a sly grin twisting his lips but all can see the disgust within it. “To the health of my nephews; Jace, Luke and Joffrey.” He can sense her attention returned to him in mere moments. “Each of them, handsome, wise…Strong.” The implication is clear before Jace even entirely turns his body toward him. “Aemond,” His mother hisses but it means nothing when your eyes are on him. Aemond merely smirks as Luke’s hand drops from his sister’s waist. “Come let us drain our cup to these three…Strong boys,” He pretends to have recalled something. “Ah and my beloved niece’s engagement, I am sure Lord Blackwood will satisfy you plenty. After all, it does not take much to please you.” “I dare you to say that again.” Jacaerys warns, eyes consuming most of his anger while he tries to stay composed. “Why?” He quirks a brow and turns to him. “‘Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself Strong?” The closer they step to one another, the higher the tension rises. In a swift movement you push your younger brother behind you. “Do you not want your sister well satiated?” “Aemond.” It’s your voice that snaps at him this time, Targaryen rage shooting through your voice. Your eyes are narrowed on him but the attention is welcome. He merely smirks at you and that is enough to set Jacaerys on him again, shoulders squared and hunched. "Perhaps only by yourself," The older prince continues to taunt. Jacaerys is quick to fist his hand and hurl it at his uncle but it barely breaks impact.  You go to move, yelling at them to stop for once but Aegon grasps your wrists tightly and tugs you flat against his chest. He swallows and blinks rapidly to forget the warm wall of your body against him, oh for the love of seven hells– Jacaerys is shoved to the floor in mere seconds while you scramble futilely to rush to one of the princes. To whom, Aegon is not sure but it makes him smirk all the same. “That is enough.” Alicent chastises as she stands firmly. Aegon attempts to hold back a snicker. Idiot, he thinks to himself. 

Before Aegon can comment, Rhaenyra has snatched you into her arms. He tries for maybe a moment to scrounge you back but Daemon glares and the point is made clear. “Why would you say such a thing before these people?” Alicent asks, grappling Aemond by both forearms and the mixture of desperation and frustration evident across her crinkled brow. “I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, Mother.” Aemond snides, attempting to keep his voice soft before calling out louder, “Mm, though it seems my nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs.” Jacaerys struggles in a guard's grip but when he breaks free, Daemon stands before him and halts the boy. The rest is a blur and quite frankly you don’t care, you’re too busy trying to drown out the hurt circling your mind. When Daemon commands you to go to your chambers and your mother finally releases you, you make a point of shoving past him. Aegon bites back a snicker while his brother scowls. They both share a smirk, lips twitching upward in tandem. Everything is going perfectly to plan. 

The first mistake you should have gathered was that it was Ser Criston Cole who had decidedly stepped up to escort you and your brothers to your guest chambers. You were the final stop and no matter your attempts to engage in conversation, he stayed stiff and silent albeit with eyes glances over you every few seconds before hurriedly returning to in front. Worry cinches your brows and anxiety smothers your body but it needn’t matter once he stands guard at your bed chamber door. That should have been the second mistake. You should have noticed as he dismissed the guard that usually stood before your door and commented on needs elsewhere. You should have noticed as he slammed the door firmly shut. But not all mistakes are unwanted… 

You slip into your bed chamber, your sparkling eyes alight with wet unshed tears as you recall the night. You sniffle, not even noticing as a short pattering presses through your walls. A low chuckle wraps around Aegon’s throat before the noise is stifled by his brother’s hand. Aemond’s steps are slower, more careful. Deliberate. A grin as sly as a sneer graces his lips as he peers past the tapestry covering them. Wait…He just needs to wait. And he has proved over the past six years, he is fully capable of this, it is just that his brother is wetting his own lips and jogging his leg in impatience. You call in your ladies maids who gossip and giggle in your ear as they unlace your coal dress, the ruby detailing crumpling in a pattern within it. The laces slide through but their hands are rough and hurried. Aemond almost growls, they have no idea what they’re doing, no idea just who they have the permission to undress. To savour. Aemond would savour you. No, he will savour you. Your fingers are so delicate as they unlock the pattern of your braids, of the thick ropes of silver that falls past your shoulders. Aegon feels a rumbling in his throat again as his groin grows at the sight of hands peeling back your head to gather your hair up and expose your neck. Oh what he wants to do to your neck. Hands finger at your necklace, one that is high and steel and he’s sure must be warm from the heat of your body by now. Aegon sinks his teeth into his lip, letting delusion consume him as he imagines his thick fingers twining it higher on your sweet flesh and yanking at it, kissing at the tears that would slip from your eyes. 

Aegon’s disappointment is obvious as he watches your lady remove the necklace and every trace of jewellery. Aemond snickers under his breath, now comfortable for hearing the louder barking of your ladies. “There will be other nights, brother.” He gleams. “Not like tonight.” Aegon huffs. “Not while she is pure.” Aemond rolls his eyes. “You fuck every common whore on the street.” “Fuck-ed.” He corrects with a smirk. “I’ll have a dragon warming my bed from now on. Aemond narrows his eyes. “And what makes you think that?” “My tongue.” Aemond is half an inch close from grasping his hair and tossing his nose into the stone wall. “An unreliable source then.” Aemond comments smooth as a snake. Aegon winces in wound but there’s a playfulness in his eyes. “You wound me.” He snickers but Aemond quickly hushes him at the sight of your figure embracing the girls before they leave. Breath stutters in his throat at the sight of your chemise, baring your long arms to him. He wants to twist them behind you like when you were younger except this time he wouldn’t be so merciful. A groan rolls around his mouth. Your fingers peel at the material and for a moment he wonders if you will remove it but you hesitate and glance around. You must have heard him, Aemond clenches his jaw and Aegon holds his breath. “Ser Cole?” You call out and now he knows you heard him as your feet pad toward your bed chamber door and rapp against it. “Ser Cole?” It is time.

Aegon moves quicker than Aemond does but he’s not any less careful as he glides one arm around your waist and one spread hand along your succulent lips. He wants to taste them but he refrains, letting his wine stained breath coax in your ears. “Hello, sweet girl.” He murmurs and your short struggling ends, wet eyes blinking up at his own as you recognise him. You whimper but soften. You’re not afraid and that is all it takes to harden him again. Aemond chuckles from behind him and Aegon feels you gasp. He moves his hand away from your lips to squish your cheeks. His other paws at your silk fabric. “Oh sweet girl,” Aegon chuckles again. “Don’t let big bad Aemond worry you, he’s promised to be gentle…for now.” Aemond upturns his lip and lets the knuckle of a curious finger roll over your tender skin. “For now,” He repeats slowly. His eyes roam you as sharp and penetrating as an eagle. He wants to play with you first. His cold fingers wind into your hair and tug. Your lashes flutter, your eyes closed and hiding the newfound feelings beneath them. “Are you untouched?” He whispers in your ear and you hesitate. He chuckles. “Bad girl…And here Aegon was so hopeful that you would stay his sweet girl.” The other prince rolls his eyes and glides a hand up your thigh. Your lips part to release a high pitch mewl, your brows knitting and breath hitching. “She does not need to be a maiden to be pure.” Aegon purrs. “Please,” You whisper, pressing your thighs tight. “Who was it?” Aegon hisses and squeezes pries them apart by sliding one hand between them, the one formerly around your waist. You gasp at the contact and his voice. 

He’s only ever been gentle with you before. His nose presses against your hair, his eyes pressing shut. “So sweet,” He whispers into it, breathing it in. He groans like a sinner. “Just tell us and you can be our sweet girl again, just tell us,” He coos, suddenly soft again. It might have been the threat of his hand drifting over your throat or the excitement that throbbed at your bud that let the forbidden whisper pass your delectable mouth. “A stable boy.” Aegon’s hands both tighten at the utterance and Aemond chuckles. “Would you really rather seek the affections of a low-born than that of a dragon who would worship your every step?” Aegon sneers at the mere idea. Wet kisses plant like the juice of fruits along your neck, his breath heavy. “I think we can do better than that ingrate, darling. Let us show you.” Aemond moves to roam his up and down your waist, almost comforting before his left lowers to slap your rear and deliver a resounding noise. You steal an inhale quickly. Aegon snickers and leans to throw his head back. “Ohhh,” He drawls lowly before kissing up your neck again, tracing it with his tongue. “We are going to have so much fun with you.” He speaks in deliberate muffled murmurs. 

Aegon’s hand draws up your chemise, the fabric rising like rippled water as it flows up your skin. He groans, peeking over at the exposure. A shudder runs over your veins, the pressure of it riding you back into his embrace. Your neck rolls back as a gasp slides between your teeth. Your brows crinkle when Aemond’s slender hand cups your breast, squeezing it gently between his fingertips. He wishes he could watch as the flesh spills over but you are still horrendously covered in the cruel white fabric. Aemond is slick when he rolls the chemise over your head and chuckles at the bare skin beneath. “Bad indeed,” He comments. “It is as though you were waiting for us, princess.” Aegon’s grip tightens. “Our sweet,” He cups your cheek and squeezes it before diving forth and finally tasting your lips, pressing lips warm with dragons blood to one another and expressing the lewdness of one’s tongue. His muscle slips between the seam and runs along your mouth. He groans at the feeling while Aegon moans at the debauchery. The elder prince dips his hand between your thighs and admires the plump flesh, rolling it between his fingers before a thick finger wedges between the glistening folds that he is so desperate to meet. A sharp high pitched jolt of sound pushes into Aemond’s mouth and he swears his eye nearly rolls back. “See,” Aegon chides with a smirk. “I told you that she is still pure. Our good girl once more. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” Whimpers are too busy occupying your mouth to elicit a response but the man is satisfied, chuckling and begins to grind his hips against your rear. 

A resounding sound slaps the air once Aemond parts from you. “Good girl,” He mewls, he removes his hand from your breast to cup your jaw. Again he opens your lips but this time you are much more willing. You don’t understand at first why his tongue is rummaging through his own mouth but before long, he slicks his saliva and spits it into your mouth. Your breath hitches but he closes your mouth and narrows his eyes. “You are ours now. Swallow.” He smirks when you obey. “Sweet darling,” Aegon coos and strokes at your swelling bud. “You know that you’re ours, don’t you? Don’t you sweetheart?” The claimant lets another whine bounce from his lips to your ear. You nod, eyes wetting at the attention. “That’s our sweet girl, always wanting my approval, huh?” The comment shouldn’t stroke your wetness like it does but neither should the thumb playing with your pearl. Aemond grins. “Ever since we were children, isn’t that right?” Aegon snorts at the claim. “I think you will find that I was much more important to her.” Aemond scoffs while Aegon starts to thrust his finger inside you. A soft yelp slips out of you and you squeeze your eyes shut, already stimulated between the two men. “Please,” You whisper to no avail, they are too busy in their petty squabbling. The rivalry between them only strengthens. Aegon licks his lips. “I bet you that I could make her cum with my thigh.” You whine at the imagery shooting through at the thought. Aemond glances down at your figure. You deserve a reward, he decides. “Keep begging like that and I’ll be stuffing my cock in that pretty cunt of yours.” Aemond whispers in your ear. Another whimper escapes. 

“You won’t be waiting long, you needn’t chase, brother.” Aegon grins as sly as a fox. His hands grasp at you until he can haul you over his shoulder and carry your surprised and squealing form toward your bed. He lets his eyes roam the plush mattress and canopy. How many nights has he slept in here while you were away? Awaking with a stiff length and your portrait in his palm. A rumble threads through his throat at the mere memory. He crawls over you and kisses at your shoulder until your mewls become restless. “This feels like more than your thigh, Aegon.” His brother snides, Aegon can already feel his judgement. He rolls his eyes. “All in good time.” Is all he babbles, wanting to enjoy his prize before she is plucked again. Finally he pulls back and looks at your eyes. Those beautiful shining jewels. This time his hand is tentative as it coils around your neck. His eyes feast on the bliss, glossy shine and your kiss-bruised lips. He licks his own and swallows. “All ours,” He lilts like a man desperate and he supposes he is as he tosses you to wrestle the length of his right thigh. His hands settle on your hips and he juts the muscle against your sweet cunt. A gasp escapes and your eyes close. “Look at me,” He growls and suddenly, Aemond is behind you and letting his fingers trace at your shoulders. “Look at your future King.” That is what snaps your eyes open and rips another gasp. You do not have time to protest or question him because as you crinkle your brows, he is pulling you back and forth on him and stimulating your bud against the rough fabric of his leg. “That’s it,” He praises. “Be a good princess for me.” A guttural groan bounces off the walls. Aemond embraces your bosom with both hands, rolling the teats with a softness you didn’t know was capable of him. “Sweet girl,” He, too, praises. You whimper, mind fuddling at the mixing information desperate to pass your lips. But it’s too much. It is more than you have ever known and certainly more than that stable boy taught you. What was his name again?

You don’t have time to remember because now your thighs are clenching around his and it’s you who demands control, sliding back and forth like it were your god given right. Your birth right that the boys are eager to supply. “Aegon, please,” you practically beg for the first time in your life. “I knew you would want us,” Aegon hisses. “I knew you would. Aemond is more a fool than you remember him, thought that leaving us was your choice but do not fret, my dear,” Your face scrunches. Your pace quickens, desperate, pleading, wanton. “We’re not letting you go again. Your mother can tear me limb from limb if she wants to but you are not leaving us again.” It is that moment that triggers a long hybrid of yelping whines from your lips. The air feels thick in your throat but stale in your mouth.  “Please!” You yelp in one final beg. “Let go,” Aemond whispers. Your peak doesn’t finish quickly, oh no, instead it drowns out any sound for what very well be an hour and if you were lucid you would feel humiliated at the certain prospect of Ser Criston Cole hearing you from outside your door. Your limbs immediately collapse against Aegon’s chest as he continues to roll his thigh enough for you to keep enjoying your ride. Pride swells in his chest. “Good girl,” He murmurs. “So good for us.” He kisses your cheek and lingers. “Let Aemond clean you up, yeah?” You nod limply and blissed as he moulds your body to his very whim, turning you gently to rest your back upon your mattress. He parts your thighs with little resistance and Aemond is eager to slide between them. You do not expect to see such eagerness in the youngest of the Targaryen men aiding your pleasure. 

Aemond audibly moans at the slick that greets him. You jump as he glides a single index finger along your thigh before he sticks out his tongue, tastes the residue and hums at the flavour that greets him. “Sweet girl, indeed.” He murmurs. “Sweet girl indeed.” It takes little effort for him to engage in your said sweetness, licking fervently and sucking violet marks into your thighs. You barely feel it, too absorbed in your high. Your head lolls to the side, barely noticing as Aegon laughs. “I thought it would take more but I suppose you are more like your mother than we suspected. Albeit lucky for us.” You whimper at that and it seems to shut him up for now. Aemond’s tongue delights at the taste of you, poking between your lower lips and probing at every droplet he can steal from. Even after he has drained you, he wants more. He sighs and palms at his own hardened member. “Want it,” You babble as if he has taken your comprehension into his tongue also. He lets the upturn of his lips quirk and glances at his brother. He raises a brow. “I think we can help you with that.” The brothers both hum, smirking. “And which one of us do you want in your little snatch, sweet thing? Tell us, princess.” Your lip wobbles and suddenly concern lowers their brows. Aegon is quick to your side, more experienced in the matter and your face turns into his neck just as quickly. Comforting palms caress your hair and soothe you softly. 

“Is it too much, my love?” He asks quietly and suddenly worries. He was so sure that you would enjoy this, you always loved pushing yourself, always pleaded for their approval. Has time really changed you that much? You shake your head, inner frustration trembling your body. “N-No,” You stutter, sniffles threatening you. He softly shushes you. “Take your time,” He commands gently but with a firm tongue. “Look at me.” He directs your head up so those pretty doe eyes blink up at him. “Is it too much?” He asks. You shake your head, a gentle pout at your lips. He releases a relieved breath. “Do you want more?” You nod. He looks over at Aemond. “I think we need a word.” He states with authority atop his demanding voice. He nudges his head, moving a hand so he can wrap an arm around you as soft and comforting as an old blanket. Familiar. Aemond rubs soothing patterns on your thigh. “Something she can say if it gets too much.” He ignores your whining, threading fingers to gently massage at your hair. Aemond glances over you and nods, a softness in his gaze. “What do you want, sweetness?” Aemond asks, the most gentle he has ever spoken. Another sniffle leaves you and he drinks in your wet eyes. You drift your eyes down and bite your lip. A few moments pass. You hesitate but he nods in prompt. You swallow. “Sapphire.” You whisper and an expression passes over him but it is found indistinguishable. He nods and looks up at Aegon who returns the gesture. “Sapphire.” He repeats. 

Their ministrations appear more gentle this time, held back. Soft. Aemond circles your flesh with his thumb and rises to hover over your body. “Whose do you want?” His light lilt asks, letting his thumb fly away the tears that gather on your cheeks. “Whose cock?” He asks. You do not answer at first, instead you whimper and tug at his shirt. “Aemond.” You murmur and while Aegon is disappointed, he cannot say it is unjustified. You have seen him fuck before with all the animalistic prowess of his teenhood but Aemond is still the soft boy who read stories to you when you were both children. You do not know what to expect from him yet. An experimental little dear. A pang of surprise and desire threads at his pained heart. “I want you,” You murmur. He swallows. You want him. He doesn't think anyone has ever wanted him over Aegon. Over a soon-King at the rate his father was decomposing like the corpse he is. Aemond nods, unable to speak for fear that it will incite his voice to break and provide his brother another tease. He merely nods and lets your soft fingers undress his tunic, his undershirt and slowly you both work at his trousers. Aegon grumbles something and undresses himself but it is all in playful quips. An intimacy structures him as he holds your hands and hesitantly rests them to wrap around his neck. “I will never hurt you,” He whispers and kisses your neck chastely. His hands wrap around his tender member and he glides between your legs softly. “That’s it,” He murmurs. “So perfect for me.” With that he slips inside, breath halting on the way. Aegon slips behind you and props you against his chest, he raises your hips so Aemond’s leverage is better endowed. Aemond pushes, a hiss dripping off his lips. “I want you,” You babble again. “Want you, want you,” With every praise, he quickens. Every sweet word encourages his desperation. “That’s it,” He praises you, hips snapping to yours. He tries to hold back but then your legs wrap around him and there’s nothing more that could induce his pleasure. Your jolts of movement in return persuade him further to be the one to draw your fountain this time. “You’re not going to marry that lord.” Aegon utters. “You’re going to stay here and be our sweet girl aren’t you?” You nod, bordering on a moan. “Do it.” He breathes. “Let go.” You do and he swears it is the prettiest sound he has ever had the grace of hearing. “Good princess.” 

“You want it, don’t you sweetheart?” Aemond teases, confidence returned. You nod. “You want it so bad that you are soaking me.” His firm appendage stiffens even further inside you. A moan ripples from the roof of his mouth. “Yes,” You tell him, throwing your head back onto Aegon’s shoulder as the man plays with your breasts. “That’s a good darling, don’t you want to help your uncles?” You hiss at a particular jolt of his groin. You nod. “Mhm,” You whimper, eyes snapping closed. Aegon smirks. “What about your pretty mouth?” He grins. “Does your pretty mouth want to please us?” You nod again with desperate whines. Aemond nods at his brother before carefully twisting you around, only pulling out for a moment before sliding back in. You gasp at the momentum but then it is quickly muffled by Aegon’s fingers easing your mouth on his length. He hisses. “Sweet girl,” He murmurs and moans, eyes rolling back as the peak of his fantasies crashes onto his cock. Your tongue flicks as Aemond’s fingers move to flick your bud, his pace unrelenting as he pushes you forward. “That’s it…” The men gleam. “So perfect.” Everything is going perfectly to plan. 

And you do not even know it yet. 

Sweet Girl Taglist (if your name is in italics and bold, that means i couldn't tag you, you will need to check your settings) @targbarbie @aemondx @connorsui

HOTD Taglist: (if your name is in italics and bold, that means i couldn't tag you, you will need to check your settings) @wrendermedone @hopelesswritergall @its-actually-minicika @gettheetoanunneryimmediatly @adelusionalwriter @cookielovesbook-akie

[cha0ticspacebi]

Like 91% of the population, you were now and would always be a beta. Except when your roommate moves out suddenly and fate connects you with Alpha Eddie Munson. After that, things start to change.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 (Coming Soon)

Pairing: Alpha Eddie Munson x Female Omega Reader

Word Count: 10.4 k

Tags: Omegaverse and everything that goes with it (knotting, nesting, scenting, heats, ruts, breeding kink, biting, you get the idea), college student reader, mechanic Eddie, panty sniffing but not from who you probably think, reader is a little freak but it's just her new instincts, a few instances were reader expresses body insecurities, talks of infertility, minor Steve Harrington x Chrissy Cunningham, and they were roommates! ⚠️ 21+ MDNI ⚠️

divider by firefly-graphics

All through public school sex education classes, you were told that if you didn’t experience signs of presenting during a certain time period, you never would. Most people don’t. That was certainly the case for you. Puberty came and went without the slightest hint of a secondary gender.

Even as society around you exists in the midst of a massive fertility crisis, more than 91% of the population is classified as beta. Experts in the field predicted that with the rapidly declining birth rates that we might see a rise in alpha and omega pairings but so far that has not been the case. No viable differences were seen until last year when the number of known alphas increased by a meager .2%.

Still, many beta couples continue to seek assistance with conceiving a child, which is part of the reason why you decided that would be your field of study. Currently a third year med student at a university, whose promising research in the field is making headlines all over the world, you hoped one day to become a fertility consultant. Helping all those who wish to start a family achieve their dream. 

Ever since you could remember you’ve wanted to help people. In grade school you helped the new student find their way around. You helped the teacher with everyday classroom tasks. Everywhere you went, if you saw someone in need of a helping hand, you provided. Reaching a box of cereal from the top shelf at the grocery store and placing it with a smile in the elderly man’s basket. Helping a lost little girl in the park, you saw on your morning jog, find her mother. Offering to spend your first weekend off in a month helping your roommate move into her new place. Even though that meant you were now a one income dwelling, who wouldn’t be sustained for long on your meager university coffee house earnings.

After helping her, you arrived back to your suddenly empty two bedroom apartment. The immediate urgency for you to find a replacement roommate became very real, very fast. 

The next day you posted fliers all over campus, including the coffee shop, the library, even at the athletic center! You asked your friend Robin to stick some up on the bulletin board at her job as well.

“I actually might know someone,” her eyes flashed quickly from the flier to you, “Someone who could, in theory, move in before next weekend if that's cool with you.”

You practically leaped at her offer, “Absolutely! What’s her name?”

“His name is Eddie and he’s a—“

“Oh,” you’d never had a male roommate before. You considered this new development until glancing at the clock on the wall. You were going to be late for class! While voicing your thoughts about her proposal, you were already headed towards the door, “I guess as long as he’s not a total slob and pays his part of the rent on time that’s all that matters. Give him my number and tell him to call me, I gotta go!”

“Wait! There’s one more thing,” Robin tries to scream after you but you're already running out the front door of the Family Video. 

She watches your car pull away and shakes her head as she forwards your contact info, “Oh well, she’ll figure it out on her own pretty quickly.”

Tuesday was always your longest day. First the opening shift with the morning rush of tired college kids desperate for their caffeine fix. Working what felt like nonstop until noon, followed by classes until after 8:00 at night. By the time you trudged your tired ass back to your apartment, all you wanted to do was sleep. Days like today were why you started leaving a pillow and blanket on the couch because sometimes taking those few extra steps to the bedroom were simply out of the question. 

Collapsing into the cushions, you felt your eyes get heavy and all your muscles finally relaxed. Sleep would come easy tonight.

Until the buzzing of your phone brought you back from the edge of sleepy bliss. You had a text from an unknown number.

Hey, this is Eddie. Robin’s friend. She said you needed a roommate! That’s such a coincidence because I’m a mate who needs a room. 

You couldn’t help the little bud of a smile that grew as you looked at the laughing emoji he added to the end of the text. Is it allowed to make first impressions from a single text? Oh well, your initial impression, he’s a goofball. Playful sort of boy next door, childhood friends in another life maybe. Meeting him in person couldn’t hurt right? Robin wouldn’t have suggested it to you if she didn’t think the two of you would get along.

Hi Eddie, I’m free tomorrow after 5 if you want to stop by and take a look. Try it before you buy it right?

You found yourself holding your phone waiting for his response. Eyes suddenly a little less heavy than before. He didn’t keep you waiting long.

It has four walls, a door, and comes with a sweetheart like you? Consider it sold!

Sweetheart? Sure Robin probably told him you're a nice person and all but that’s a little, buzz. Your thoughts were interrupted as he messaged again.

Sorry, I hope that didn't come across as pushy. I don’t want you to think I’m some stereotype. I try not to act like an entitled jerk all the time. It’s just, Robin showed me a picture of the two of you at the lake last summer and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think you were pretty.

The thought that he knew what you looked like and was still sending you cheeky messages made you happier than you’d like to admit. You remembered that trip and knew exactly what picture she must have shown him. It was one of the few where you actually felt good about yourself. With another yawn, you typed a response.

You could make it up to me by leveling the playing field? I should know who I’m expecting to meet tomorrow and possibly share a place with. 

Within just a few minutes an image appeared on the screen. He was straddling a vintage motorcycle with a helmet in his hands. Oh. 

You weren’t sure what caught your eye more, his soft looking curly hair, his dark chocolate eyes, or those dimples in his cheeks from the smile he was flashing the camera. He followed the picture up with another message.

Rob told me you were in class all day so I’ll leave you alone since you’re probably tired. Get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow around 5 roomie!

You should be annoyed. First he calls you sweetheart. Then he has the nerve to tell you to go to sleep, like you’re a child who was up past their bedtime. Then to top it all off, this man has the audacity to assume that just because you exchanged a few texts that he can move right in? Who does he think he is? You should be annoyed– but you’re not. Quite the opposite actually, you just got a little more excited for tomorrow. You fell asleep on the couch with that spout of a smile still growing slowly on your lips. 

Heading home after class the next day felt different. Instead of going home stressing about an exam or worrying about how you are going to pay next month's rent, you feel a touch of nervousness mingling with the excitement for a first meeting. You secretly hoped that Eddie was as cute in person as his picture.

Fate was smiling on you today because class had gotten out a little early giving you just enough time to straighten up the apartment before Eddie arrived. 

You hung a clean hand towel up in the bathroom, put fresh sheets on the bed that your old roommate left behind and smiled when you lit the pine scented candle that sat on the coffee table. Happy that you could get one more light out of it before it would need to be replaced. You fluffed the decorative throw pillows on the couch and finally closed the door to your own room before waiting to hear the knock on the door.

When that noise finally echoed through the quiet air you felt your body shiver with anticipation. You let out a reassuring breath, hoping it would calm your nerves and opened the door.

“Hey!” he smiled as brightly as the picture he’d sent you while he greeted you by name, “So? Am I as cute as my picture? Because you certainly are.”

Add big flirt to your first impressions. He was definitely laying on the charm but you were also falling for it hook line and sinker, “Hi Eddie, it’s nice to meet you. Come on in!”

You offered your arm in a welcoming gesture. He stepped inside and brushed past you ever so slightly. He must be wearing a strong cologne. Just that quick pass had your senses overwhelmed with the earthy, woodsy smell.

“So this is the common area,” you pointed out all the usual necessities, “Here’s the bathroom, there’s the kitchen. Off to the side there is a little dining table but I’ll be honest I think I’ve used it once. I usually end up eating on the couch.” He commented on how it was a nice place and that it was so close to his work he could walk when the weather got nice again. 

“Where do you work?”

He closed the kitchen cabinet he’d been snooping in and turned to you, “I’m a mechanic over at Murray’s Auto Repair. Rob said you work at the coffee shop on campus, what’s your field of study, young scholar?” 

“Medical. I’m studying to be a fertility specialist,” you made small talk with him as you walked over to show him where his room is… would be! Where his room would be, if you think he’d be a good fit, “Here’s the other room. My old roommate said I could keep the bed and the dresser but if you already have those we can donate these since they’re in pretty good shape.”

He nodded, “Nah they look alright to me. I’m currently crashing on a friend's couch so this would be a huge upgrade.” He inspected the door handle, “Does this door not have a lock?”

“No, mine doesn’t lock either. I always figured it was because they are interior doors?” you shrugged and joined him as he inspected the boring metal doorknob, “They make portable locks you could always use.”

“Yeah, those things aren’t very strong though and when I’m in rut I can get pretty–” you cut him off.

“I’m sorry, when you're in what?”

The complete shock in your eyes and slack jaw had him pulling back a bit from you. A dejected huff through his nose, accompanied by a shake of the head told you he wasn’t too pleased with your question, “I thought Rob told you?”

“She didn’t tell me anything besides your name and the fact you were looking for a place,” you swallowed hard. You were in your third year of med school, you knew damn well what a rut was but the problem here was that only alphas experience them so if he… the wheels clicked in your head and you suddenly felt small standing beside him, “You’re an alpha?”

He crossed his arms, “Is that a problem? I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable so you just say the word and I’m gone.”

His messages last night suddenly made a little more sense. He didn’t want to come across as a stereotypical hotheaded, asshole alpha. Truthfully though, he had been nothing but respectful so far. He had a steady job and already offered to pay your half of the rent for the first month! He even promised to do half the household chores. Honestly, he seemed like a great candidate for a roommate. Why should his status change any of that?

You shook your head, “No it’s alright.” You rocked on your heels with your hands held behind your back, trying to restore the conversation to its former comfort level, “So, when can you move in?”

His smile reappeared, but he didn’t answer your question. He instead turned and belly flopped onto the bed, you heard a deep sigh escape his mouth, “Shit, can I stay here tonight? I really don’t want to sleep on that couch again.” He turned on his hip and looked at you from the bed, “You know Rob’s friend Steve?” You shook your head, you’d only known Robin since the spring semester and hadn’t met any of her friends yet, “Well Harrington’s a great guy but he’s a family man now and can’t have a lonely alpha crashing on his couch anymore.”

You stood awkwardly in the doorway, unsure if you should intrude on the space he just claimed, “Is Steve also an alpha?”

“Yeah. He and I had been living together for years before he met that sweet Chrissy of his,” he collapsed on his back and stared at the ceiling, “They had a kid, cute little boy, a few months ago and I lost my room.”

“Is Chrissy an omega?” you were mentally taking notes. Before Eddie came waltzing through your door, you’d never gotten the chance to talk to someone with a secondary gender at length before. There were some alphas you knew of in your classes throughout the years, mostly because all of them were loud and obnoxious about it. But none that you ever felt compelled to converse with. If they were cool with it, maybe they could answer some questions for the paper your gender sciences professor just assigned. Having some first hand alpha/omega pairbond experience would be great for your research. 

“Nah,” well nevermind, considering the low omega presentation rates you’d have been shocked if that was the case. You could always talk to Eddie about what it’s like to be an unmated alpha. He continued, “Never actually had the pleasure of meeting one. I hear they are crazy sweet though.”

You asked Eddie if he needed to go get anything from Steve’s place tonight, to which he just insisted he’d go tomorrow while you were in class. You had been so anxious for his arrival that you forgot to eat so you offered to cook dinner for him. 

“You really don’t have to,” he tried to stop you but then his stomach growled loud enough that it was probably heard from the hallway by a passing neighbor. 

You both looked at each other and you tried not to laugh at his embarrassed expression, but it wasn’t working, “So is ramen ok? If you’re going to live with a starving college student you’re going to have to eat like one. Not that you aren’t welcome to bring in your own food or whatever. I can clear a shelf off for you.” With that you got distracted reorganizing the sparse contents of the fridge, “There. We can put shared items in the middle, I’ll put the things I buy on the bottom and you can have the top shelf.”

You opened the door wider with a smile as he admired your work. You decided after dinner you’d do the same thing with the cabinets and clear a space just for him, “Ok now I’ve definitely worked up an appetite,” reaching up into the cupboard you presented him with two options, “Do you want spicy or regular?”

He gave in. Already, barely an hour in the apartment, and he knew he was no match for you, “Spicy. Thanks, sweetheart.”

You turned on whatever movie was already in the machine while you cooked and then just a few minutes later you were placing a simple bowl of noodles in front of him. He inhaled them, “That was delicious. I’m doing the dishes!” you were about to protest, “No, don’t even try to argue with me. You've already done enough and I’ve only lived here about 2 hours! I can’t have you doing everything for me. I need to pull my weight.”

“Fine, but sit down and finish the movie first.”

He sat on the opposite end of the couch from you. You chose to ignore the little tug that wished he sat closer to you. 

“Is that candle what I’m smelling?” he asked abruptly.

“Probably,” you leaned towards the coffee table and read him the label, “Evergreen Forest?”

His brows furrow, “No, this is sweeter.” He laughed, “When I first stepped in here I thought you were baking cookies, it was so sweet. I still haven’t been able to figure out where it's coming from.”

“Maybe one of the neighbors is baking something?” You weren’t really sure how to respond because you also had no idea what he could be smelling. You weren’t one for perfume and none of your soaps, shampoos, or body wash smelled sweet. At least he didn’t say the apartment smelled bad.

“Sorry, I’m being weird,” he brought you out of your daydream, “Alpha nose,” he poked himself in the tip of his nose, “I’m really sensitive to scent.”

“It’s ok! I find secondary genders fascinating. It’s part of the reason I chose to study fertility.”

He laughed and twisted himself to face you more from his spot on the couch, “Ah, I see. That’s why you let me move in so fast. Using my body for science hm?”

You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not so you deflated a little, “No of course not. I just think the phenomenon is interesting. Growing up I always hoped one day I would present, especially after I was told I can’t have kids.”

His laughing faded. The familiar sad, almost pitying look appeared that everyone gives you when you tell them. You’re not shy about it and you don’t care who knows. Despite having been focused entirely on building your career since you turned 18 and got that news, you do get asked by outsiders quite often when you’re going to settle down and have kids. 

Here comes the inevitable follow up question. He asks you if you want kids, “I’d love to start a family someday.” You shrug and anxiously rub your knees, “I’m painfully single though, so, one step at a time I guess.”

His laughter was quickly becoming your favorite sound in the world, “Me too! Do you mind if I ask how old you are?”

“I’m 26,” you smiled, “What about you?”

“27. I presented when I was 17 and after I finally managed to graduate high school I went to a trade school to become a mechanic.” He laughed again to himself, “Not that I needed any of it. Already learned all there was to learn from my uncle.”

The title screen of the movie playing in the background and the thought of your 6 AM shift were shoved aside as you spent hours talking with him on the couch. You learned where he grew up, that he played in a band for fun with his friends, and that he was a giant nerd. Everything from Dungeons and Dragons, to Lord of the Rings, to Star Wars. He loved all of it. 

You told him about your hobbies outside of school as well. He asked you questions about what kind of music you like, what your favorite color is, and listened to you talk about the things that interested you. It was kind of alarming how comfortable you already felt with him. He was incredibly easy to talk to. Finally, your body knew you’d regret staying up any later than you already had. You yawned.

“Alright pretty girl I’ve bothered you long enough. Go get some sleep,” he raised an arm and rubbed the back of his neck, “Are you sure it’s ok if I stay here tonight? I know it’s short notice and I wouldn’t want you to feel like you had to let me stay. I can move in officially this weekend if that works better.” 

You surrendered. Standing right up and following his order, “It’s fine Eddie. I offered you the room didn’t I? Besides,” you yawned again, “Since you’re covering rent next month you might as well get your money's worth. Although I don’t have any extra blankets,” another yawn became the final nail in your coffin, “All I had was that sheet. I might have some pillows in the linen closet,” you went to check but he stopped you with his words.

“You’re too kind, fair maiden. I don’t need much when I sleep anyways,” he gestured to himself, “Alpha’s usually run pretty hot.” You snorted and shook your head. As different as he is, you can definitely tell he’s still an alpha. He rose from the couch with a deep bow, “I look forward to our adventures together as roommates,” he flicked his hair back up and flashed you a great view of those dimples, “Good night sweetheart.”

Eddie moved in his stuff little by little, the whole process took nearly a week. When you returned home each day you would notice a few new additions here and there. He stuck his shampoo in the bathroom, there was a six pack of beer on his shelf in the refrigerator, and you could typically hear music playing from his room at night. Finally the last item, a second guitar amp, landed in his now fully lived in room. 

It had officially been a week since he moved the last of his stuff in and the two of you fell into a routine. Eddie’s shifts at the shop were usually the same time you were in class. If he got home before you and made some food, he left you a container on your shelf in the fridge. The last few times he’d started leaving a note on the container labeled “Roomie!” a little heart with bat wings drawn with markers that he definitely swiped from your backpack.  Tonight you were getting home first and decided to surprise him for being the world's best roommate. 

Your mind thought back to yesterday as you got started. You had just gotten out of the shower when he mentioned that sweet smell again. You figured he might have a sweet tooth so you decided to make cookies for him.

You tied your hair back and put on the apron you’d found on clearance after Valentine’s Day. It was pink with little conversation hearts scattered everywhere. A picture of a ladybug and the caption Love Bug written across the chest. After completing the scene with some of your favorite music playing softly in the background, you started to work.

After grabbing the flour and sugar, your cheeks felt warm. You had to check the clock to confirm, you’d only been working for a few minutes and you already felt flushed. As though you had been working in the summer heat for hours. You opened the small window that was situated beside your dining table and the cold winter air wafted into the warm kitchen.  It helped a bit. 

Setting the heat in your cheeks aside, you forgot about it after a while. You didn’t even realize how focused on your task you’d become. You felt relaxed. Every care of the outside world was gone. After mixing the last ingredient, the chocolate chips, into the dough and scooping them onto the baking sheet, you put them in the oven. 

“Hm,” you mused to yourself while looking through the cabinet. Wondering if you had the ingredients to make an icing to write #1 roomie on one of the cookies. 

Your mission was successful and while the cookies baked you whipped up a small amount. Giving you just enough time to do the dishes before pulling the cookies out to cool. You checked the time again. It was just after 5:00 and you knew Eddie would be back soon. Scooping the icing into a small ziplock baggie, you tried your best to write on the uneven surface. He walked in just after you finished the last letter.

“Hi Eddie!” You smiled brightly, proud of your work. Then you held out a small plate to him with the cookie, “I made this for you!”

He froze. His body went rigid there in the door frame. For the first time since you met, there was an uncomfortable silence. He just stared at you for a moment. Then, without a word, walked over, grabbed the plate from your hand and went into his room. Leaving you standing there in the kitchen dazed, confused, and if you were honest with yourself, a little sad.

You didn’t see him again that night. He stayed in his room. Replaying that event in your mind you cleaned up, left the rest of the cookies in a tupperware container on the counter, and headed to bed. 

You tried to sleep but the more you pondered, your sadness turned to annoyance. You needed to complain about him so you called Robin. 

“Hey! What’s up?” she sounded cheerful, “Isn’t it way past your bedtime?”

You offered a curt pity laugh, “Haha, very funny. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, I’m assuming based on your tone there’s trouble in roommate heaven?” She nailed it and your frustrations poured out like a waterfall.

“I made him cookies and he acted like I committed a crime. He gave me this look, didn’t say anything, snatched the cookie I offered him, and has been hiding in his room ever since. Is he allergic to chocolate? He might as well be with how upset he looked,” you mocked his non existence words, “Oh, I can’t believe the nerve of this girl, making me cookies, letting me move in with her on such short notice! Alpha Jerk.”

Once your rant was over she hummed, “Eddie’s always had a sweet tooth, that doesn’t make any sense. I need more details. What were you wearing?” 

“Just my normal clothes I wore to class today. I did have an apron on to keep my shirt clean, but why should any of that matter?”

She laughed, “Sounds to me like you might’ve broken him. Let me guess you went full domestic goddess?”

“Well I wouldn’t describe it like that but—“

She interrupted you, “Eddie’s a simple alpha babe. An alpha who, by the way, has never been with an omega. You cooking things just for him? Classic omega behavior, you should know that Ms. Smarty-Science-Pants. On top of that, looking like absolute wife material probably had his brain sizzling like a piece of bacon.”

You listened to her but it didn’t matter, “I’m not an omega though.” Your words were more sad than you’d like to think about.

You could hear her exasperated sigh, “His brain doesn’t know that. I’m telling you that’s all it was. He’s probably hiding because he’s got a huge hard on!”

“Robin!” You yelled and immediately listened for any signs that he might’ve heard your yell. You tiptoed to the door and listened. Nothing. You waited until back in the safety of your bed before talking again, “I’ll admit, you might be right about the first part. But,” you heart sank a little, “I doubt he’s in there with a hard on. There’s no way he feels that way about me.”

“Why not?” Robin combated, “You’re fucking adorable! And If he doesn’t, he’s clearly not using those heightened alpha senses of his because anyone would be lucky to have you.”

You bloomed again, “Thanks Robin. I feel a little better. I’m gonna get some sleep. I’ll see you later.”

The next morning you went about your normal routine. If you hadn’t decided to grab some rations from the kitchen to stuff in your backpack in perpetration for a day full of learning, you’d have missed it. There on the counter where you left the container, now a lot more empty than before, sat a little note. Thanks sweetheart. He left his signature bat heart. You smiled to yourself and flashed your eyes to his door. As if it could’ve been anyone else who wrote the note for you. 

A few days after the cookie incident, you and Eddie had resumed your normal interactions. Although, you hadn’t really stopped thinking about what Robin said. You were on the couch watching some random show on TV when he came in from work.

“Hey,” he sounded tired.

“Hey,” you checked the time, “Thought you got off at 5? I was surprised when I beat you home.”

He went, as he always does, to the bathroom and washed his hands. But this time he made a pit stop to set a small sparkly red bag on the coffee table in front of you, “I was supposed to, had to stay and finish fixing this stupid truck. Damn thing is just going to need to be fixed again in three months anyways.” He stood in the bathroom doorway and looked between you and the bag, “That’s for you.”

You felt the color appear on your face, “Me? Why?”

He replaced the towel he’d been wiping his hands on and walked back to the living room, “Dunno, I felt bad I guess about the other day and when I stopped at the store on my way home I saw that little guy and thought of you.” He spoke in a rushed manner like he was trying to get the words out without making a big deal out of it.

You looked inside the bag and found a small brown teddy bear with a red bow tied around its neck. It was so sweet. You held him in your hands and felt the softness of his fur beneath your fingers. 

“I just wanted to say sorry. Not trying to you know, I don’t know. You can just throw it away when I’m not looking or whatever,” Eddie was rambling and it was absolutely adorable.

“No it’s fine. I like him,” you loved him. He was the same color as Eddie’s eyes.

He went to his room after that and must have gone right to sleep because you saw the light from under the door turn off and didn’t hear any music tonight. You sat there on the couch with your new friend for a bit longer and realized something. He only came in with this. If he just happened to see this while already at the store, what did he go to the store for in the first place?

It was one of your rare days off and you were catching up on some laundry. You knew he might view what you were about to ask similarly to the cookies but hey doing laundry in an apartment building is a pain in the ass. If you're going down you might as well bring some of his clothes too. 

You texted him. Hey, I'm doing some laundry. You need anything washed?

He was at work but usually responded pretty quickly if they weren’t busy. They must not be busy. 

Yeah uh sure. That’s cool. Thanks. There’s a little pile in the corner by my guitar.

You were usually really good about respecting the roommate code. You knocked if you needed to get his attention but hadn’t actually been in the second bedroom since he moved in. Only catching quick glimpses when he would enter or exit. 

As soon as you entered, you thought to yourself, My period must be coming. The wall of musky, woodsy scent hit you like a ton of bricks. It was spicy and warm and distinctively Eddie. You stood in the door frame almost trying to catch your breath, Damn it’s probably going to be a rough one, I'm not usually this sensitive.

Once you regained your balance, you learned that Eddie had not one but two guitars. There was a red and black electric one hanging on the wall and a black acoustic one sitting on a stand beside his dresser. He didn’t specify in his message which one you should look by and both of them had piles of wadded up clothing near them. 

Trying not to inhale too deeply for fear of passing out, you pulled the collar of your shirt up over your nose and grabbed the first pile under the electric guitar. A few shirts and what looked to be pants that he might wear under his coveralls at work.

With still a little room in your basket, you made your way to the second pile. Opting to just pick all of it up at once and drop it in with the other clothes. You instantly knew this probably wasn’t the one he wanted you to wash. Sitting on top of your now shared laundry were several pairs of crusty looking socks and balled up boxers that had been hiding under a shirt. 

You knew you should put them back. Recreate the scene and walk away like you never touched them in the first place. Maybe he wouldn’t notice you had disturbed them. That's what you should do. You knew that. But something stirred inside you. You acted almost on instinct and before you could think too hard about it, you were picking up a pair of his green plaid boxer shorts and bringing them up to your nose.

When you inhaled the scent quite literally knocked you down. You fell backwards onto your ass. A euphoric feeling consumed you, it was like nothing you’d ever felt before. Suddenly your cheeks were flushed, your heartbeat quickened, and you knew you needed more. You smelled them again.

The room smelled like Eddie of course, it was his room. All his belongings were in here. He spent a good portion of his time here. But this, this was more somehow. More Eddie. Like someone had taken his scent and bottled it into a cologne. Then accidentally spilled an entire bottle onto this single pair of underwear. 

Coming down from your high you knew you had to leave them here, he’d notice if the pile was completely missing. Thus knowing you touched his underwear like a weird pervert. But he might not notice one pair mysteriously going missing. 

With the green pair still clutched in your dirty fingers, you replaced each soiled item one by one and covered them back up with the shirt. Then stood back on your feet, picked up the laundry basket, and continued your task as though the last few minutes didn’t happen. 

He came home from work that night to a small pile of neatly folded shirts and pants placed carefully on his bed. There was also a small container of take out with his name on it waiting for him in the fridge. You didn’t have the courage to face him that night after what you had done. So you hid away in your room. Leaving him completely unaware of the thievery that had taken place or the hidden treasure that now sat tucked away in your nightstand. 

It was officially one month that you’d been living with Eddie. If he noticed something missing from his wardrobe, he never mentioned it. 

Tonight you were having your first movie night with friends that you hoped to make a weekly occurrence. Robin was already here and tonight you got to meet their mutual friend Steve for the first time when he came over with his partner Chrissy. 

“I poured the popcorn into a few different bowls since it didn’t fit in just one,” Robin said with a smile as she held up two mismatched things of popcorn.

You feigned despair, “Oh no! What’re we gonna do? We can’t let people know that we live like this!” You turned to Eddie and held your cheeks, “What will the neighbors think?”

He laughed, “Your reputation as a good neighbor was probably lost the moment I moved in sweetheart.” His nickname for you became common tongue. You knew it didn’t hold any meaning, just Eddie being, well Eddie.

Robin didn’t approve of your shenanigans, she set the bowls down on the coffee table, “I never should have introduced you two. You're both menaces.” 

“Au contraire!” Eddie defended, “It’s actually a crime that you didn’t introduce us sooner!”

Your heart swelled hearing that, “Aww, you really do care Eddie. Here I was thinking you just used me for my extra room. Is the big bad alpha going soft? 

He smirked, “Nothing soft about me sweetheart.”

“Oh my god can you not make dick jokes for like 5 minutes please?” Robin threw up her hands, “Are we really about to bring another thick headed alpha in here? Seriously, how did you and Steve not kill each other?” 

Your eyes tracked between them as they bickered. Eddie sat in his usual spot on the couch and Robin was about two seconds away from walking back into the kitchen. 

Eddie laughed, “Relax! Steve and I have more sense than that. Besides, he’s got a girlfriend which calmed him down a little.”

“Good, this apartment can only handle one hot alpha,” You blurted out without thinking and instantly regretted it.

Robin, who was no secret to your massive crush on your friend and roommate, covered her laugh and retreated back to the kitchen. Shooting you a look that says you are so on your own with this one.

Eddie just looked at you, for a brief second there was some unreadable emotion there but it quickly turned to a smug grin. His arm swinging over the back of the couch, opening his legs as he crossed one over the other. “Aww you really think I’m hot sweetheart?”

You didn’t answer him. You’d be forever grateful to whoever just knocked on the door. 

On the other side stood a man with fluffy, perfectly placed brown hair and a big smile. Even without the knowledge this man was an alpha, you’d know right away. From the protective arm around this girlfriend’s shoulders and the oozing confidence, this must be none other than Steve Harrington.

Which meant the cute redhead beside him must be Chrissy. She greeted you with a surprise, though not unwelcome, hug, “It’s so great to finally meet you. Eddie’s told us so much about you.”

“Really?” You looked back to Eddie who was uncharacteristically quiet. You decided to just file that in the back of your mind for now, “Come on in! We made popcorn and pizza should be here soon.” Robin had returned and gave Steve a hug. You couldn’t resist the urge to tease her once more, “I hope you don’t mind the mismatched bowls.”

The movie provided an anchor as you got better acquainted with these new friends. You learned that they met through work. Steve is a personal trainer and Chrissy teaches yoga at the community center. Steve was telling you the story of how his jaw literally dropped when Chrissy walked into his gym to inquire about offering classes there. 

Your body language had naturally leaned in while listening to his story. You sat up a little straighter. Your arms braced against your knees as you gave Steve your full attention. Or at least tried to. The frequent twitches you caught from the corner of your eye kept distracting you. Finally you looked over and saw Eddie clenching his fists against his thighs.

You waited until Steve had finished to say something, “Eddie? Are you ok?”  

His eyes were blown wide as he looked in your direction, “Hm? Yeah, I’m fine.” The white knuckles now braced against his chin and the point of his elbow digging into his leg said otherwise.

Steve spoke up before you could, “You sure man? You look like you’re ready to rip somebody’s head off.”

“I said I'm fine!” He snapped. 

In an instant, the once friendly atmosphere turned sour and tense. No one really knew what to do. Everyone looked concerned. Searching for the cause of what had upset him. You however were feeling something very different. All you could think about was touching him. No, not touching, your brain supplied. Scenting. 

You wanted nothing more right now than to nuzzle into his hair and neck. Somehow reassuring him that everything was ok.

Now your eyes were blown wide. Your brain all at once processed this intrusive thought. You knew it was nonsense. It must have come from your lessons during class today. Yeah that’s it. You were still just thinking about today's lecture during gender sciences because you shouldn’t be scenting. That’s something only done by alphas or—

“Who wants dessert?” You jumped up from the couch and headed into the kitchen. You heard footsteps behind you. Someone was following you. You didn’t need to turn and look thought. The sound of the footsteps, his smell, everything about him swirling around inside your very confused mind. 

You opened the freezer and didn’t realize how much you needed the relief of a cool breeze. Standing there with the door open for a moment after grabbing the tub of ice cream felt incredible.  

“Hey,” Eddie’s voice melted your insides. It sounded so soft and comforting, “Are you alright?”

You didn’t want to look at him for fear that just by making eye contact he would somehow know what you had wanted to do. Instead, you chuckled awkwardly and played it off, “Guess I’m just more tired than I thought.”

“No,” Eddie saw right through you, “I’ve seen you tired after a long day. That’s not what this is. Come here.”

Your mind and body were incapable of disobeying him. Even if you hadn’t wanted to, you turned on his command. Closing the freezer door and keeping your eyes locked with his feet. 

He touched your forehead. Eddie had never touched you before. All the nights you spent wondering what the tips of his fingers felt like finally answered. They were calloused from playing guitar, the palm of his hand rough, most likely from his job. But nothing had ever felt more natural. It was fleeting thought because he pulled back already. 

“Jesus Christ you’re burning up,” He went to the bathroom and returned the thermometer, “Holy shit 102?” He called for Robin. 

She came running and you vaguely heard him telling her to go get medicine from the bathroom. He lifted your chin, “You are taking medicine and going right to bed. Do you understand me? No work or class tomorrow for you either.”

“But–”

“I think you should listen to him,” Robin said as she returned followed by Chrissy and Steve to check on you. 

Standing became a labor. You braced yourself against the counter but Eddie caught you and lifted you into his arms. Robin opened the door for him as he carried you to your bed. Everything was starting to blur together. Somehow they made you take the medicine. You’re pretty sure Robin helped you change into some pajamas before you passed out on top of the comforter. That night you had your first dream of Eddie.

The next morning… afternoon? You weren’t sure until you blinked your eyes open. You felt awful. Your skin felt like it was on fire. If you were still running a fever that was not a sign. As soon as you summoned enough strength you ripped all your clothes off only to be horrified by what you felt on the bed beneath you. Your underwear, shorts and the top of the comforter were soaked. You brought your wet hand up to your face to inspect the source.

“Is that?” you spoke to the emptiness, “Slick?”

It should have been impossible. Everything you knew about biology was being thrown out the window and discarded to the wayside. Nothing made sense anymore. You had been and would always be a beta. And yet– your new and now ever present instincts told you otherwise. You were in heat. 

Grasping at the shred of rationality that you regained, you tried to remember everything you’ve ever learned about heats. You knew a few things for certain. One, it was only a matter of time because you were lost to your desires and unable to think about anything except mating. Two, you needed food so that you didn’t have to leave your room again until it subsided. Last? Only omegas experience heats which means that only an alpha would truly make you feel better. 

Tossing your wet clothing to the ground you wobbled naked like a newborn fawn towards your bedroom door. Dripping slick against your bare inner thighs as you tried to walk. You made it to the kitchen where, with fervent desperation, you dug through the cabinets for anything you could bring back with you. Then you went to Eddie’s room and without a second of hesitation opened the door. That was a horrible idea.

Where only the night before was just the scent of Eddie, now your brain was able to recognize it for what it was. Alpha.

Your knees buckled. It’s a miracle you didn’t fall over. Another rush of slick dripped from your aching hole. You didn’t have the luxury of considering whether he’d be upset that you were borrowing his clothes. You grabbed his leather jacket that he always wore outside of work from the bed and the few shirts that littered the floor. You could feel the fever returning. You needed to get back to your room. 

—

Eddie didn’t want to leave you that morning. He peeked inside your bedroom before heading to work and you were sound asleep.

Robin had taken care of your obligations for you. She called your work and emailed your professors saying you’d be out for a few days with a fever.

Eddie knew he should just go back home because he wasn’t much use here today anyways. He’d already made a ton of mistakes thanks to his distracted brain.

“Munson!” Murray called to him from the office, “Come here boy!”

“Shit,” he tossed the rag in his hand and readied himself for an ass chewing.

Murray looked up from the desk, “What’s wrong with you today? You handed me an order form for the wrong part. You charged someone triple for a simple oil change and now I just watched you checking the engine on a car that was brought in for headlight repair.”

“Sorry sir, my roommate’s pretty sick right now and I guess I’m just a little worried about her,” a little worried was an understatement. Eddie was panicking that you, the absolute divine love and light of his life, were going to die in his absence.

He sighed, “Just go. Before I change my mind.”

Eddie tore at the buttons on his coveralls and nearly tripped trying to walk and take them off at the same time, “Thanks Murray!”

“You owe me!” was the last thing Eddie heard before he ran out.

He kicked the stand up on his motorcycle and got quite a few stares from people on the street and he hauled ass back to the apartment. 

Normally he’d take the elevator up to your fourth floor apartment but in his mind his feet were faster and they’d carry him to you sooner. He was so focused on checking that you were still ok that he didn’t even feel winded after running up four flights of stairs. 

He fumbled with his keys as he walked down the hallway. Then it hit him. He dropped the keys. They clattered loudly to his feet. He was still several doors down from yours and he could already smell it. He scrambled to pick them up and ran down the hallway. 

His suspicions were confirmed as soon as he turned the key. That same sweetness that had greeted him everyday since the first time he opened that door to your smiling face, suffocated him. Though now it was a little different. It was sweeter. More you. Something he’d only ever dreamed of. An omega.

It got stronger with every step he took towards your room. He swallowed and failed to will away the hardness growing in his pants. All his hopes and dreams were answered when he pushed his way into your room. There on the bed in a very haphazardly constructed nest, naked, clinging to his jacket, surrounded by his clothes, and your brown stuffed bear, was you.

He inhaled deeply and could practically feel his pupils dilate with lust. You smelled so fucking good. He took another step and spoke quietly trying not to startle you, “Hey sweetheart.” 

—

It hurt so bad. The ache between your thighs only worsened as you curled into the small nest you’d surrounded yourself with. The underwear you’d stolen from Eddie lost its scent long ago but you still pulled it out and threw it in the pile. The few items you were able to grab from his room were a mere wooden board in the dam against the rushing river that threatened to drown you at any moment.

You didn’t hear the front door open.

Your senses became more clouded with each passing minute. You clung for dear life to Eddie’s leather jacket but it betrayed you as it started to cling back now that it was damp with your sweat.

The click of your bedroom door knob alerted you and brought you back. Maybe it wasn’t the door. Maybe it was the smell or the sound of his voice as he spoke to you. You lifted your head and couldn’t stop the tears when you saw Eddie standing there at the foot of your bed.

“A-alpha? It hurts,” 

Something awoke within Eddie. The deepest part of himself he’d never been able to fully satisfy. All those ruts spent uselessly humping into his hand or a pillow. “Again,” He growled, “Say it again little one!”

Your eyes pleaded with him as you whined, “A-alpha?” You pressed the jacked to your chest. How was he here? He was supposed to be working. Your fever must have taken over you and you were starting to hallucinate, “F-fuck, alpha, need you. Are you really here?”

The bed shifted, “I know, I know. I’m here now, sweet omega. I’m here.” He laid behind you and wrapped his long arms around you. “‘m so sorry I left sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere now.”

His presence eased the ache a bit. He rubbed your neck with his hand and whispered in your ear, “You smell so good, could smell you from the hallway.”

He felt you shudder with panic, “R-really?”

“Shh! No, don't worry. I locked the door and only other alphas or omegas would be able to smell it,” he leaned in closer, “Can I kiss you? It might help you feel better.”

You nodded but didn’t feel anything on your lips. He kissed your neck. Sparks of pure pleasure shot through your body. You whimpered helpless against the feeling, “Fuck more Eddie! More! Kiss me more, please!”

He couldn’t deny that his heart had wanted to hear those words since he first laid eyes on you but he knew it was just the heat talking. He also knew if he started he wouldn’t be able to stop, “I want to more than you know princess but, I don’t want you to hate me when you're more lucid.”

His kiss had breathed new life into you and gave you the energy to turn to face him, “I’d never hate you Eddie.” You reached into the piled up fabric that you had built up around you and pulled out the green plaid boxers, “D’you lose something?” you could feel your speech slurring.

“D-did you take my underwear?” his fingers curled and tickled against you lightly drawing out little giggles.

You grinned up at him with glassy eyes, “Sure did. Sniffed ‘em too.”

His palm came to rest on your hip and he ran his fingers up the curve of your waist. Then back down again. Savoring every dip, ridge, and shape your body created as it lay before him, “Did they help you feel better?”

“Nuh uh,” he was misunderstanding, “I took these a while ago. So see? Wouldn’t hate you. Want you.”

He kissed you again, on the lips this time, “I want you too. Shit, you taste so good. I wonder how you taste other places.”

He pressed his elbow up, giving him leverage to sit up and tear his shirt off. Next he was up hovering over you on his knees. You watched him, taking in every single one of his movements. He unzipped his pants and slid them down his hips. His thick length was barely contained by the fabric of his boxers. He was less than graceful as he shook them off. 

He straddled your legs and lowered himself towards your neck again, so close to your skin that his chest grazed your exposed nipples as he turned you to rest on your back beneath him. His mouth was in your ear whispering, “I can see it in your eyes sweetheart, the heat is getting worse. Can you tell me what you need before that smart ass brain of yours is just mush, begging for my knot?”

“F-fuck me Eddie,” you looked up at him and knew even in your current state that your words had affected him. “P-please.”

“That’s all I needed to hear sweetheart,” he kissed you again. First on the lips. Devouring your moans, wet noises growing as you felt yourself drooling into him because of how good he tasted. Your slick lips gliding against his. He moved lower onto your neck and kissed the crook just above your shoulder, “This might be a little sensitive here but I promise it’ll feel good.” He sucked on your skin and in that instant you were writhing.

“Ah! A-alpha,” somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind you knew that he was sucking on the spot that both of your latent instincts told you was where he should bite down and bond himself to you. Where if he gave into his desires and bit down just a little harder you’d forever be his and only his. Bearing his mating mark for the world to see. As he continued sucking with just his lips and licking with his tongue that was suddenly all you ever wanted, “Mate me alpha! All yours, please!” 

He puffed out his chest. His shoulders flexed. The muscles in his back tightened as he growled again into your neck. Straining to fight off every instinct that told him to give you what you wanted. His hand gripped the wooden frame of your bed so tightly you heard the wood begin to splinter and crack. “Maybe after your heat sweetheart. Such a good girl, my sweet little omega, all these big new feelings. Don’t you worry, I’ll take care of you.”

Throwing your head back you let the dam break, “N-need your knot alpha, Hurts. Make it stop.”

“You’re not quite ready for my knot yet baby. Gotta make sure I don’t hurt you.”

But you were an omega? That’s literally what your body was made for, why couldn’t you take him? First he wouldn’t mate you and now he won’t knot you? Were you a bad omega? He sensed your distress in the subtle change in your scent. He buried his face into your neck again, surrounding you with himself. 

“You’re not bad! No no,” you didn’t even realize you’d said that out loud. He continued to soothe you, “It's just…I’ve never knotted anyone before and I don’t want to hurt you.”

You brought your hands up to his chest and touched him everywhere your fingers could reach, “Won’t hurt me. I know. Too gentle.” 

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down on top of you. The weight of his body pressing into nearly every surface of your skin was intoxicating. Grounding you with his scent and his very presence. You’d pulled him into the perfect position to nuzzle into his neck and hair, kissing the same spot that he has just assaulted on you with his tongue. A warm feeling bubbled in your gut. This was different from the warmth of the heat. Then a sound hit both of your ears.

A sound that gave both of you delighted pause. The little noise that escaped your throat was somewhere between a whimper and a moan but something so uniquely omega. Eddie had never heard a more beautiful sound. You were purring. 

He let you keep going but whispered into your ear, “You’re fucking perfect you know that?” you purred louder, “I’m going to make you come with my fingers and then I’ll give you my knot, ok?”

“Yes alpha! Thank you,” you whined as he pulled away but his hands never stopped touching you. He made his way down to the drenched area between your thighs.

“You look so beautiful for me sweetheart, you’re fucking soaked,” he moaned as his fingers began toying with your wetness and dipping in between the folds of your pussy. You encouraged him with all the moans and whines he could ever hope to hear. As soon as he deemed you thoroughly worked up, he finally slipped a finger in, quickly followed by another. They worked together pumping in and out fluidly, curling inside you, pressing all the right buttons. You wanted to thank him but all that would come out was broken bits and pieces of alpha and his name. 

His hair brushed lightly against your inner thighs, sending shivers through your core as he lowered his head down. He spoke with a low hum right into your entrance, “You’re close. I can feel it. Let go for me sweet omega. I’ll take good care of you.”

One more curl of his fingers hitting that delicious soft spongy spot inside you had you screaming and convulsing as slick rushed out into his hand and surely getting some on his face. His fingers pulled out and were replaced with something wet and soft. You could feel his nose nudging at your aching clit as he licked up all your wetness with his tongue. It slid up from the hole and flicked your clit over and over again causing the muscles in your calf to twitch.

“K-knot alpha! Knot please, ‘m ready. So empty, hurts!”

He sucked on your clit before pulling away and lifted to release his throbbing cock from his boxers. You looked up at it, marveling at how impressive his length looked. The tip swollen and aching for you just as you ached for him. The shaft veins pulsed as he pumped himself with his wet hand, covering it in your scent and juices. The base just barely began to flare out as his knot already started to swell. He lined up the tip with your begging cunt and teased you as much as his self control would allow before slowly and carefully pressing all the way inside.

You cried out for him, “So good! More, more, more! Move alpha please!”

He couldn’t hold back anymore. Feeling his cock sheathed inside his omega’s pussy was too much. He began fucking into you with reckless abandon, each thrust hitting deep within your body, catching ever so slightly as his knot continued to swell. He grunted loudly, “Fuck! “M’gonna fill you up so good little omega. Gonna breed this beautiful pussy,” his instincts were now fully in control. His mind became almost as clouded as yours with nothing but want and desire to fulfill the purpose of your heat, “You’ll look so good knocked up sweetheart. Tits all big and heavy. My omega, mine!” 

You echoed him, “Yours alpha! All yours! Breed me, wanna carry your baby! Please, please please,” you cries became so desperate and emotional as you begged and pleaded for him to give you something you’d wanted as long as you could remember. Tears fell from your tired eyes, “Make me a mommy alpha!”

“Yeah?” he looked down at you. Beads of sweat from his constant thrusting formed on his forehead. His bangs curled and swooshed out in every direction, “Beg for my knot again omega, tell me how much you want it!”

Your body was jostling up and down from his thick cock fucking into you harder and harder. Your senses became overwhelmed with the feeling of your alpha’s cock, his scent, his words, his love all around you. You could feel how much bigger his knot had gotten, your voice was wrecked, “Knot alpha, need it, knot me!”

Eddie came with a loud growl. You’d never felt so full. Your walls pulsated around him as you came again. He slammed his knot deep inside you, locking you together with him, forming a connection that as you floated down from your orgasm fully took shape in your mind.

“Eddie?” you looked into his warm brown eyes, “Th-thank–”

“Shh, we can talk later baby. Rest while you can,” he held a finger to your lips, “Once my knot goes down I’ll get you some water and something to eat. You’ll need it again soon so we both need to rest.”

Being locked together with him felt so right but it limited your movement. Twisting your torso you looked around the nest for the box of granola bars you’d grabbed earlier, “I,” words were still hard and your breath was labored, “box here somewhere.”

He looked around and spotted the corner of the box on the floor. He pictured what you must have done when you realized what was happening to you, knowing what you’d need, “You did such a good job. Now it’s my turn, we’ve got a long few days ahead of us. My first rut lasted three days.”

You chuckled, eyes closed, a blissful fucked out smile on your lips, “W-we might need more food.”

“I’m not leaving you again, I’ll have Rob drop some stuff off.”

You didn’t talk anymore after that. In fact you fell asleep with his knot still inside you. He kissed your forehead before pulling out when it finally went down, “Sleep my little omega.” He left the nest just long enough to text Robin and his boss, updating them and then curled up behind you, rubbing his face into your neck again. Picturing how good your throat would look with his mating mark on it before falling asleep beside you.

[itsagrimm]

He Who Comes From Under The Water

Chapter 1 - The Promised Bride

Monster!König X she/her afab Reader

CN sexism & patriarchy, mentions of death, suicidal thoughts, accidental attempted drowning, arranged marriage, choking on water, mention of a human bodies decomposition

eventual smut.

Beta-read by @sandinthemachine and @queenquazar. Thank you both so much for supporting me with obsessing over fairy tales.

Masterlist

“So, you are a king without a queen?” The old man asked while throwing his rod back into the water. “I suppose you require a queen then, eh?”

The king, considering the old fisherman’s words, slowly nodded. “I suppose I do. But where does one get such a fine lady?” 

The water below the wooden landing was dark and dirty. Frogs croaked and fireflies danced over the green sludge and water lilies, lively and playful like the flecks of sunlight that reached the surface through the thick forest trees. A pretty scene on any other day.

Not this one.

Your tears had long stopped flowing into the water of the deep pond. Now, you sat there, your hand tangled in the water and your thoughts lost, dark and deep like the water below you.

A few days ago, your grandfather died. A kind old man who had spent the last years of his life close to the warm oven in winter and fishing in the pond in the summertime.

You remembered bedtime stories as a child with sweets sneaked into your hands. You remembered kind eyes who watched out for you as you grew from child to maiden. You remembered worry in those same eyes when your father died in the forest chopping wood, when your brothers perished in a tavern fire, your uncle and your mother succumbing to sickness, and - finally - your cousin breaking his neck after climbing a tree.

Yes, there was a lot of pain in your grandfathers’ eyes. But even more to worry.

The old man had been your last living relative, and most importantly your last male relative.

And now you as an unmarried village girl from a clearly cursed family, had no one who could inherit your family’s house and support you.

It was only time until the village would shun you and chase you away to get rid of all the bad around you.

That is if you were lucky.

You could try to make it into the city where you would live for a while as a beggar or, if you were hungry and deemed pretty enough, work as a whore.

In his last days, your grandfather tried to arrange for a husband, but no one wanted a cursed girl, and so his last words to you were to visit his favorite fishing spot.

You sighed.

Now, you sat on the same spot where your grandfather had sat, catching fish, and gazing over the water.

Maybe that’s what he had meant, you mused. It would be easier to end it all here and jump into the pond only to never return to the surface, drowning your sorrows and yourself with your grandfathers’ blessings. At least you would choose your fate with your chin proudly raised and your dignity untouched, floating into the abyss in your best billowing skirts from the funeral and no more tears left to cry.

As much as that was possible considering your situation.

“It’s a good place to leave this world,” you spoke out loud to taste how it felt on your tongue. It resonated, with the forest, the pond, with you.

“Indeed, it is.”

You twitched in surprise, heart jumping into your throat.

“Who is this?” you called over the water, glancing around for whoever lurked within the trees, hiding between the ferns.

A hand, big and wet, snatched yours from the water and pulled you in with one strong tug.

You wailed in surprise before crashing into the pond and swallowing the muddy green water, gurgling and gasping for air. Something seized you – strong and solid. Instinctually you kicked and punched it.

Was this it?

NO! 

Fighting for your life you thrashed around, struggling and trying to free yourself to get back up to the surface. But whoever had you in a hold only dragged you down, carrying you further into the dark.

Your panicked eyes widened, trying to see who attacked you, trying to see anything.

It was dark. Only the dark, green water around you.

No, no, no, no!

Your lungs heaved for air as your heart drummed painfully in your hurting chest.

A second hand twisted around your throat and over your face. Instinctually, you opened your mouth and bit down.

The hands jolted back with a howl reverberating in the water, releasing you from the deadly weight dragging you down. Hungry for air and with burning lungs you swam up with frenzied strokes, pushing through the surface. Gasping and coughing you breathed, feeding your body with much needed air.

Quickly, you glanced around. No one there. Was this someone from the village trying to get rid of you? Did you manage to drag your attacker down with you? Or was it an animal in the water?

Before you could move, something grabbed you again and lifted you a good length out above the water.

You screamed and kicked again only to have your legs and hands fixated in an iron grip.

“Hold still!” A voice commanded you, foreign and vibrating close. You struggled on, thrashing your body against the solid form behind your back, unwilling to take any chances and die here without a fight.

“I said, hold still!”  the grip around your limbs tightened, forcing you into stillness. “There, finally.”

Slowly, you turned your head. You were caught in the grip of a dark, green form, pressed against what must be its chest and stared at by sharp, watery eyes from a nearly obscured face from tangled wet hair and a beard.

Who is this? You thought to yourself, still heaving for air.

“Why are you fighting me?” the strange being said, “I’m here to take you in as my bride. Just like I have promised.”

You coughed again, a bit of swamp water and spit running down your chin, splashing onto the being’s arm.

“What?” you cried and with your head still spinning.

“What what?” The large figure snapped back, “The old man asked me to take you as my wife, yet you bite me? Is that how you want to treat your future husband? Do you want me to let you go? I have no need for an unwilling bride.”

 You blinked, your body slowing down and your mind starting to think clearly again.

“You nearly drowned me. Let me go!” you cried out as much as your abused lungs allowed.

The figure blinked and instantly dropped you.

With a loud splash you crashed back into the water.

Your body seized and your mind raced, struggling to comprehend and move your body up.

You made a few weak swimming strokes, but it wasn’t enough to move your still tired and abused body up. Water started filling your lungs again and you were about to dr-

Something grabbed you and lifted you. Again.

“Woman!” the strange being cried out in annoyance, “What are you doing?”

You coughed, swamp water from your hair dripping over your face, disorienting you further as you gasped for air.

“Wait, maiden, do you need to breathe?” the strange creature asked, “Make up your mind! I was just trying to take you home, but you don’t want that. So I did like you asked but then you started sinking like a stone back into my waters again, heaving for air!”

You shivered, “Of course I need to breathe! All humans need air, idiot! What kind of question is that?!”

The creature groaned and grumbled, “The old man forgot to mention you are a human. I thought you might be a nymph or a bigger frog lady. Well, that’s just bad luck.”

You snorted, “Oh, I am sorry that me needing air is inconvenient for you! I nearly died down there in those muddy waters!”

“Hey, those are mighty fine waters of mine, thank you very much. Besides, the second time was not my fault.”

“Your waters?” you managed.

“Who else’s waters?” the figure deadpanned as you’d asked the most obvious question, swayed, and started moving towards the landing before carefully putting you onto the planks instead of holding you like a cat holds its naughty young, “Stay. Let me take a better look at you.”

You huffed and collapsed onto the planks out of the wet arms. It wasn’t like you could run anyway with your body still shaky and weak from the near drownings. Instead, you lifted your head for a better look at the stranger as they studied you.

The strange being from the waters was built like a man, but huge and larger than the tallest man you had ever seen. And it had the face close to a man too under all that unkempt hair and beard. But its facial features were fine, much too fine for any man who could lurk in the waters, and slightly too angular and with eyes a bit too lively and sharp to belong to a human as they studied you.

“Pretty girl.” the man from the water finally grumbled, “A bit unruly but pretty. At least that the old man did not lie about it.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, “Thank you?”

The man shrugged, “Sorry for trying to drown you, apparently, I misunderstood your fragile physique.”

Fragile physique. He made it sound like an insult.

You took one final breath and summoned your strength to sit up to be on the same eye level as the large man from the water.

“Who are you?” you asked while trying to sort your wet skirts.

He snorted and waved slightly.

“I am König – king of all under the waters. Naturally. And you are the bride I was promised by the old fisherman a couple of days ago.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, “Do you mean my grandfather? He used to fish here.”

The man shrugged, causing little waves around his shoulders where he emerged from the pond, “Most humans all look and smell the same to me, honestly. He was old for a human, liked to share stories, and left me a bit of tobacco as offerings sometimes. Smelled of smoked fish.”

Memories of your grandfather flashed before your eyes where he sat on the bench in front of the house, smoking his pipe in the late hours of the day, watching the sun go down.

Your mouth went dry.

Had he? Did he really?

Did he, in all his misery and worry, promised your hand to a strange man from the pond – a huge and wet and cold and clearly dangerous monster.

You went stiff from the overwhelming thought of being given away like that to a stranger - to a monster.

“Well, you are a human but I’m not in the habit of breaking promises and I'm sure you would make a good enough queen,” König continued, “Unless you object of course. There is little as unhonourable as having an unwilling bride, not even the slimiest toad approves of that.”

König babbled on about waters and ponds and marriage but your head was spinning. Your grandfather arranged for you to marry an algae cover man from the pond who's idea of home nearly killed you. The painful absurdity of it made you consider jumping right back into the water.

The cold, dark and green water.

The buzzing of the summer insects and splashing of the little waves drowned everything else out, turning louder and louder and louder and-

“Maid?”

His hand touched your arm, slowly shaking you.

You jolted up only to fall back.

“Yes?” you managed while leaning back, away from the large, clawed hand.

König’s watery eyes shifted around you as if searching for the right words.

“Listen, I don’t know too much about you humans, “ König started, “but you look cold and miserable. Maybe let’s worry about that first and talk about our wedding later.”

You blinked as the realization in all its form settled in.

Marrying him?

He would drown you in this pond, your flesh rotting and being picked by the fishes until nothing but a pile of bones were left.

Your bones, your lovely bones.

No! You had felt your life slip out of your fingers, the precious air bubbles escaping your lungs bare moments ago. Your cold hands wandered around your pained body intuitively, cradling yourself and trying to protect you from the outside world. You weren’t ready to give up on this life - to give on your body - and you would keep yourself safe and alive. This was your skin, your hair and flesh and bones! Death would come to you one day but you would be damned if it came today at the bottom of a dark pond and by the hands of a man.

“Yes, you are right. I should get dry,” you managed, sensing a chance to escape.

With wobbly legs, you tried to get up only to sway and stumble down on your knees. You needed to leave this place.

König tilted his head, watching you.

You tried again; your muscles too weak to carry you.

“Dear,” König said with slight amusement in his voice, “Your will is admirable, pretty girl. But I doubt it will be enough to get you home.”

“So? Will you drag me back into the pond and finish your work?” you replied, considering the option to crawl home and far away from the water

“Why would I do that, bride?”, he chuckled before turning serious again, looking at you with those blue more than clear inhuman eyes, “I have heard it’s not customary but allow me to get you to your home before you hurt yourself. You humans take so long to heal and an injured bride during the wedding would be a nuisance.”

Fearful you tried to move again.

He watched, waiting for your answer.

You considered his words. Your home. And he clearly wanted you in one piece at least before the wedding.

“No pond?”, you asked with an oh so thin weak voice.

“No pond.” He reassured, “That’s clearly not your element, my little bride-to-be.”

Slowly, you nodded.

Carefully, as if not to spook you, he scooped you back into his arms once again and pressed you to his chest.

You felt yourself going stiff again from fear, but before you could cry out, König stepped out of the water and away from the dreaded pond.

“See, no pond,” König spoke soothingly, and you felt his voice vibrate in his chest as he moved and swayed to avoid branches while shielding you with his shoulders, “I’m keeping my promises, my little bride.”

[soulofapatrick]

Piano Lessons - Alex Claremont-Diaz x Male Reader

Summary: Alex gets turned on by your piano skills

Words 1.7K

Warnings: Smut; gay smut; rimming; cockwarming; anal sex; idk what this is anymore

Notes: I promise I'll write some fluff for Alex and Henry next !

Y/N’s POV 

As I sit at the grand piano in Kensington Palace, my fingers gracefully glide across the ivory keys, coaxing a melodic symphony from the instrument. The rich, resonant notes fill the room, dancing in the air like fireflies on a warm summer night. The piano is set against a backdrop of regal red, pristine white and the deep blue hues that embody the spirit of the monarchy past. It’s a symbol of tradition and history, much like my family itself. 

Today, the atmosphere in the room is different, and it’s all because of Alex Claremont-Diaz, the charismatic and intelligent man I’m fortunate enough to call my boyfriend. He’s visiting me here at Kensington Palace, and his presence has added a touch of vibrancy and excitement to the usually stated surroundings. As my fingers continue to play, I can’t help but steal a glance at Alex. He’s seated on a luxurious, plush chair nearby, his russet eyes fixed on me with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. His admiration and affection are palpable, even from across the room. 

The strains of the piano’s music seem to weave a story of their own, a story of love, passion, and the unbreakable bond between two individuals who have defied the odds. Alex and I come from different worlds, but our connection is undeniable. He’s the love of my life, the one who has shattered all expectations and brought colour into my world of duty and responsibility. 

I finish the piece with a flourish, letting the final notes linger in the air for a moment before they fade away. Alex rises gracefully from his seat, his eyes never leaving mine, and his smile could light up the darkest of rooms. He approaches me with that same confident stride that has always captivated me. The way he moves, with an air of self-assuredness, is a testament to the strength of his character and the love that binds us together. 

He doesn't stop in front of me; instead, he reaches out and gently takes my hand, drawing me to my feet. Our eyes lock, and it's as if the world around us disappears, leaving just the two of us in this intimate moment. He moves around to stand behind me, settling on the piano stool. Before I can ask what he’s doing, he’s wrapping his muscular arms around my waist and pulling me back onto his lap. It draws a surprised gasp from me as there’s something poking me in the ass and fuck, I know exactly what he’s doing. 

I don’t protest, letting myself melt into his embrace, my head falling back against his shoulder, relishing in the comforting and exhilarating feeling of his arms around me. The warmth of his body against mine is a soothing balm to my soul, reminding me that I’m not alone in this world of duty and responsibility. A soft sound escapes my throat when Alex presses a loving kiss to the back of my neck, each one sending shivers down my spine. 

His hands slip from my waist down to the button of my jeans, a gentle kiss pressed to my jawline and I’m fighting against it as Shaan is just outside the door and could walk in any moment. But, Alex’s hand is driving me crazy, palming me through my tight jeans, knowing exactly how to turn me on. 

“Baby boy,” Alex’s voice is low and resonant, exuding want and love, and it’s breaking down the last of my reservations about what he’s asking, “Need you baby.” 

I rock my hips back once, drawing a deep rumble from Alex’s chest, and it’s all he needs to pop the button on my jeans and tugging lightly. I lift my hips for him, letting him draw my jeans and boxers down far enough to expose me to him. Instead of freeing himself from the confines of his jeans like I expected he’s gripping my hips and pushing me to my feet, pressing a large hand to the base of my spine and bending me over the piano. His hands spread my ass, kneeling the flesh between those fantasy inducing hands and before I can process what’s happening I’m yelping in surprise. 

At the first lick I almost faceplant the top of the piano, never expecting so many nerve-endings where Alex is currently ravishing me. Alex supports my weight, bringing me back against his mouth, and it draws an embarrassing sound from me, a high pitched whine that gets caught in my throat. My knuckles are turning white with how hard I’m gripping the edges of the piano, trying to spread my legs even further to give him more room. Alex wastes no time, tongue flicking and licking broad stripes against my hole, moving every so often to nip at the plump skin. It’s erotic, more than I could have imagined. The two of us with Alex’s lean but muscular body holding me up as he devours me, my dick twitching as he eats me out like I’m his last meal. His hands are massaging my thighs, oh so close to my aching dick, dripping precum onto the keys of the piano, making me arch my back to try and get the warmth closer to my dick. It doesn’t work but instead gives Alex more space and before I can react his tongue is inside me and I’m crying out before slamming my head against the top of the piano trying to muffle my cries. 

“A-Alex please.” My voice comes out broken and hoarse, causing Alex to grin against my skin, “Alex. I need you.” I’m almost crying, feeling embarrassed about begging but I need to feel him inside me properly. 

It’s all it takes it seems. Alex is pulling away, giving me time to steady my breathing while I hear the zipper on his jeans and then, with gentle hands I’m being guided backwards. I’m so glad for Alex’s grip on my hips as my knees are shaking like crazy but that’s soon forgotten when the head of his dick pushes its way past my now relaxed opening. I’m gripping his wrists, taking a deep breath as the stretch still burns but not as much as before, Alex’s spit acting as lube and I can slide further down quicker than before. 

I go to raise my hips again as soon as I’m settled on his lip, the button of his jeans digging into the back of my thigh but his hands still gripping my hips stop me and he’s leaning forwards, warm breath ghosting my ear, “Play.” 

“W-what?” I choke out. 

“Play me something.” His voice is tight and his hips betray him when they thrust up ever so slightly, drawing a sound from both of us but he reiterates his point, “Play for me.” 

I take a deep breath, attempting to focus on playing another piece despite the situation, knowing I’m getting nothing from Alex otherwise. I place my fingers on the keys, trying to muster the concentration needed to produce a coherent melody. But as I begin to play, Alex’s hands find my thighs, massaging them and his lips are coasting teasingly along my neck. His proximity is both a blessing and a challenge, as his hips jerk up again, teasing himself as well as me. 

With each note I strike, I can sense Alex’s playful energy intensifying. He digs his nails into my inner thighs, drawing a sharp sound from me and an off key as my hands jerk. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and it’s clear he intends to draw this teasing out as long as he can. His fingers trace light patterns on my hips, sending delightful shivers down my spine. He whispers sweet, teasing words in my ear, his voice laced with affection and a hint seduction. It’s incredibly difficult to maintain my composure and focus on the music when he’s gently circling my hips in his lap. 

The piece could not end quicker for both of us because as soon as I’ve played my last note Alex’s regains that firm grip on my hips and lifts me until just the head of his dick is indie me before he slams me down, a loud cry of pain and pleasure escaping me. I’m a whimpering mess already, Alex moving a hand to wrap around my aching dick, moving his hand in time with his almost brutal thrusts. I can feel my muscles tightening and thighs shaking as I reach that precipice, but Alex, my sweet, frustrating Alex. He pulls me down so he’s fully sheafed inside me and circles his hips, just missing my prostate and leaving me almost begging for that sweet release. 

“Now now baby,” Alex nips at the back of my neck, “Wait for me.” With that he thrusts as deep as he can, circling his hips every few thrusts until I’m almost crying again, my thighs clenching and stomach rolling over with effort of trying to stave off that sweet release. I’m mumbling stuff, unsure if it’s actual words or gibberish but Alex knows exactly as he reaches around to take my dick in his hand one last time. He doesn’t jerk me off but runs his thumb over the slit that’s leaking precum and before I can stop myself I’m cumming. My body lurches forwards and my whole body shudders with pleasure as ropes of my seed hit the piano and I should be embarrassed but all I can think about is Alex holding me tightly, breath hot against the back of my neck as he pumps me full. His hips jerk a few times more before he’s sinking into the stool, holding me against his chest as we try and catch our breaths. 

“Do you think anyone heard us?” I mumble, throat raw and voice cracking. 

Alex chuckles into the crook of his neck before a muffled reply comes from him, “I think everyone heard.” 

“Oh god.” I’m burying my face in my hands, cheeks heating up and not wanting to ever leave this room again. 

“Come on darling, let’s get ourselves sorted out.” He’s easing me off of him, both of us wincing in oversensitivity and I sort myself out the best I can, feeling his seed already leaking down my legs and knowing I need a nice, hot bath now. 

Alex takes my hand and leads me out of the room, past a very red faced Shaan who won’t look our way. He leads me down the hall, towards my room but before we get there we hear a shriek from Philip: 

“WHAT THE BLOODY HELL HAPPENED TO MY PIANO!!!??”

                           ┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

Red White and Royal Blue Masterlist

TAGS: New Tag List Form

TAGS: @clarks-letterman

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: Wax and Wane

Pairing: Werewolf!Andy Barber x Reader

Summary: You were drawn to Andrew Barber like a moth to flame, and now that everything you were is burned away, you cling to him in the ashes.

Word Count: 1,269

Warnings: Darkfic, Dubcon, Horror Au, Werewolves, Smut, Borderline Monsterfucking (lol), Implied Stockholm Syndrome, Breeding, Dead Dove: Do not eat, MINORS DNI!

A/N: my second entry for my Friday the 13th challenge! so as some of you all may recall, the “A.B” initials on the charm bracelet in Talking to the Moon implied the existence of other women, and maybe other pack members…😈 mind the warnings my loves! enjoy! divider by @firefly-graphics

The sound of the bell rouses you, forcing you to sit up groggily as you blink at the dark room. The heavily draped window is dark too, and when you look blearily for the digital clock on the bedside table, it confirms your suspicion. 

 The bright numbers read 3:17, and for a moment you consider turning back over and going back to sleep, but the little bell next to your bed sounds again insistently. 

 I hate that fucking bell. It’s an antiquated remnant of the house’s past, from a time when your lavish bedroom was once part of the servant’s quarters, the bell a means to summon you. Now, however, it serves a somewhat different purpose. 

 Is it really different? He calls, I come.

 Andy’s side of the bed is cold, you note as you roll out from underneath the covers. You peek through the curtains out at the moon, a dark sliver eaten out of the bright circle. It won’t last, though—it’s due to be full tomorrow, maybe the day after, so Andy’s side of the bed will remain cold until then. 

 You hate that you miss him, a little. He is a good conversationalist after all, your man—your monster. 

 Andy is supposed to be with the pack—you know this from past experience. It’s strange he’s waited so long to leave, and you know that now he must have certainly missed his chance. You make your way down the long hall, the only sound the whisper of your long robe against the cool tile. He isn’t downstairs, not when you exit the grand staircase and into the dark living room. The house is intimidating in the dark, but you’ve done this enough times now that you could probably do it with your eyes shut if you wanted to. You go through the kitchen, pausing briefly before the cellar door. 

 When you open it, Andy is waiting for you on the other side. It’s easy to see the change is almost upon him. His bare chest is heaving, shiny with sweat. His eyes are fever bright, nostrils flaring from the scent of you. When he licks his lips, your pulse quickens, and you wonder if he can hear it, if he knows. 

 I should have seen it coming.

 You should have—but Andy had blinded you. Love blinded you. You had not noticed your friends dropping from your life like irate flies as you found yourself too busy with Andy Barber to see them, your family held at arms length by their disapproval of your wealthy, mysterious new beau. People falling like dominoes until you were alone—

 And alone, you were weak.

 When the man had become a monster, you had clung on instead of running. And now, you think as you lightly finger the raised scar on your chest, it’s too late. The long scratch marks that if you measured, would be exactly Andy’s finger-widths apart. 

 There’s something under my skin, too.

  You allow him to pull you to his chest as he inhales deeply, pressing his face into your hair. The smell of him does something to you, too, igniting a warm tingle deep in the apex of your thighs. The distinctly male musk, tinged with something animal, primal. His fingers tangle in your curls for a moment before he lets go, his hands wandering appreciatively down your sides and over the curve of your hips. 

 “I thought I was going to have to come get you,” he says, his voice low. There is amusement there, too. “You have good timing.” 

 Most people don’t pay close attention, so generally, even when Andy is out and about this close to the change, no one notices the tells. Not like you. His nails are longer, sharper and stronger. His canines longer, thicker—it makes him lisp, just a little. And his eyes…

 The darkest, stormiest blue. 

 Andy slides a finger beneath your chin, tilting your head up. You sigh into his mouth as his lips meet yours, his teeth pulling at the plump flesh until it swells. Hungrily he swallows the resulting whimper, and when his tongue sweeps into your mouth he tastes like gin—he’s been drinking. Andy’s hands slide up your sides, displacing the robe as he pushes it from your shoulders. 

 “Smell like honeysuckle,” the words are murmured low against your throat. You squeak when his fingers sink appreciatively into the soft skin of your ass underneath the hem of your nightie. He inhales again, teeth tugging at the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “And rain.” Thick fingers wiggle between your thighs, and you widen your stance without being asked, and Andy hums with pleasure at finding you damp already. 

 “Missed you.” 

 Your breath catches as he circles your clit, before sliding down to tease at your entrance. When he pulls back, you try to stifle the whine that grows in your throat, but you don’t kill it completely. 

 “Get on the desk.” 

 This room serves as Andy’s unofficial second office. Where, if you looked, you might find pieces of evidence that were conveniently “lost” during trial—things that might make their way into Andy’s pocket if he had a particularly stubborn problem. 

 Nothing that would be of use to you now. 

 His eyes rest on you with almost physical weight, you can feel them boring into you as you lean up onto your toes, bending across the dark wood. You peek over your shoulder, and you sink your teeth into your lip to keep from gasping. When the change is close, you know Andy is… bold. Aggressive, even—-and tonight is no different. He openly palms his cock through his open pants, staring lustfully at the glistening folds between your spread thighs. He grins at you, and your cheeks burn but you don’t look away. 

 “I told you, runt,” he says, the points of his sharp teeth hanging over his lip. “I missed you.” Andy is on you in two easy strides, resting a hand on your hip as he rubs the head of his cock against your pussy. This time, you can’t help the shuddering moan that leaks through your clenched teeth. He bends over you until he can rest his lips on the back of your neck, and they curve against your skin. “I see you missed me too, didn’t you?”

 “I did,” you admit, your cunt sucking desperately at the tip of his cock. 

 “Mmm, good girl, so honest.” The pleased hum that vibrates in his chest fills you with a shameful sense of pride. You are a pretty bird in a pretty cage for as long as he’ll have you—but you can’t bring yourself to hate him. You moan as he begins to push forward, his hand heavy on your hip.

 “I know I’m supposed to be with the pack,” Andy grits out as he begins to stretch you open. You stare with lidded, unseeing eyes at the bookshelves in front of you, his words echoing in your ears. There’s a sort of doubling when he speaks again, two voices in one mouth. There is Andy’s voice, the one you know, and then something dark. Animal. 

 “But you feel so good like this.” 

 You know the beast is crawling just underneath Andy’s skin, staring out at you through his eyes. Your only saving grace is the fact that they want the same thing—

 “I know you like it too, pup,” Andy’s teeth scrape hungrily against your neck as he splits you open inch by delicious inch. “You always did have a thing for monsters.” 

 end

Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library​ for updates. ❤️

[fadingsnow]

MY HEART WILL NEVER FEEL, NEVER FEEL, NEVER SEE (MY HEART, THEN IT FALLS) - AEGON TARGARYEN x f! reader

SUMMARY AND TW: Aegon refuses to bend the knee to your mother, a love falls into pieces, but a heart beats. (SHORT) Divider Credits: @firefly-graphics

"Aegon. How could you? From all that I have known, you have despised the throne, and all that it stands for, Otto, Viserys, everything! Since when have you followed the false Hand's words so blindly? He is no help, only the rotting disease which finished Viserys, and until his last breath, my mother was his heir! Not you."

Your voice echoed against the walls of his room, almost threatening to shatter the intricate glass windows. You could barely hide your frustration, and disappointment. Your own hands trembled when you threw them up in the air, your coughs not even coming out of your throat because of the tears that were about to be shred.

"And- I can't believe it. You dare to have a coronation, and even imprisoned Rhaenys? You expect my brothers to be cup-bearers, they are princes of the realms, the Queen's sons! If anything, they should do that for her, not so you can fucking drink yourself to death."

You spat at the ground, a sign of your disbelief for his crowning. How could someone you loved turn so corrupt?

"Let me explain!" He yelled, his hands pulling at his hair almost, anxious at your reaction even though he expected.

"Your mother would've killed us, all of us. Helaena, Aemond, Jahaerys, and Jahaera, in what world, would I ever want my family to die?"

"My mother would never ki-" Your words were cutoff by Aegon's look of exhausation.

"She is my sister, but you know she would. Don't lie, I'm the first male son, what do you think she'll do to finalize her claim to the throne? Especially what would Daemon do?" He pleaded with you, his eyes begging for forgiveness, for you to forget your mother, and be his like before the war.

You ignored his comment, preferring to change the subject. "Aegon, do you plan to kill me?" The room grew silent at your words, the only sound was of shuffling feet.

"No, how could you ever believe that?" His face was the pure embodiment of shock, as he rose from his place in the bed, and walked towards you.

"No matter our sides in the war, you are why I keep fighting. Your love is keeping me alive, no knight or Hand can."

When he went to grab your hands, you let him entertwine your fingers, letting him rest his head on your chest. You were in a state of conflict, you were loyal to your mother, but your love to Aegon was another story.

"I'm still loyal to my mother." Your voice came out, with heavys breaths of fear that he'll let go of you. Aegon stopped swinging your hands for a moment, as he stared at you.

"Love has no sides, only loyalty to those they love." He murmured in your neck, the bristling of his hair against your neck, his hoarse voice next to your ear, making you blush just like when you two were younger, and didn't have to worry about duties.

A sigh came accompanied with your words, as you ran your hands throughout Aegon's hair, "Perhaps."

[littlelou22]

just a dream | joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you have a nightmare and joel comforts you after it

warnings: soft!joel, canon tlou violence, fluff, no use of y/n, violent nightmare, let me know if i missed any

divider credit: @saradika

word count: 1.6k

author’s note: thank u to my sweet @northernbluess for requesting this. i hope i did it justice for u🫶🏻

You awoke, alone in a room. One firefly guard stationed in the hallway. No Joel or Ellie in sight. Panic creeped up your throat, feeling as though it would suffocate you. Especially if you didn’t find the two people you called your family.

The gunshot that rings through the air does nothing to ease your panic.

You slide out of the bed before tip-toeing to the door, pressing your ear against it to try to hear what is happening on the other side. Listening as the firefly on the other side of the door receives word of an attack on the hospital by a lone male, for all units to respond immediately. The guard swears before stomping away, towards the sound of the gunshots.

You know it’s Joel, it has to be.

Frantically looking around the room for anything to serve as a weapon, you find a lone scalpel. It’ll have to do, you think to yourself as you take a deep breath, steeling yourself before opening the door as quietly as possible.

You slowly creep out of the room, looking both ways down the hallways before sneaking towards what once was a nurses station. You circle around it, finding the firefly that was previously outside of your room crouched in front of you, facing the opposite direction.

Without hesitation, you throw yourself forward, covering their mouth with one hand as the other sweeps the scalpel across the front of their throat. You silently wrestle with the firefly until they go limp, dropping the body to the ground before you strip them of all weapons and ammunition.

After arming yourself, you begin to sweep each hallway, inching your way closer and closer to the echoes of gunshots. You pray silently that it is Joel as you take down any guard that crosses your path.

You round another corner and come face to face with the barrel of a gun. A shocked gasp escapes your lips as you are tugged into a side room. The light flickers on and reveals Joel’s blood splattered face.

“They got her on the top floor,” he grunts. “They’re going to kill her for the cure.”

Your stomach drops at his words. “What’s the plan?”

“Kill them all.”

The two of you work in sync as you continue towards the top floor, bodies left behind in your wake. The door to the operating room comes into view at the end of the hallway, Joel breaks out into a sprint. You quicken your pace, following him as he barrels the door down.

Your stomach turns at the sight of a body with a sheet covering them, blood staining the sheet at the head. Your eyes widen at the sight of a doctor, blood soaking the front of his scrubs. A sob escapes you as you realize you were too late.

Ellie was dead.

Joel surges forward at the doctor. A gunshot rings through the air and he topples to the floor, groaning as blood pours from the wound. You watch as the blood pools around him, growing larger with each moment.

A group of fireflies rush in the room, swarming you with their guns drawn.

You scream but there’s no use.

Ellie is dead. Joel is dead.

You scream as a guard grabs you from behind, pulling your thrashing body away from the sight. You fight as hard as you can, kicking your feet and screaming.

But it’s no use.

Ellie is dead.

Joel is dead.

Joel was awoke by whimpers. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and glanced over at your anything but calm frame. You were shaking and crying, clearly disturbed by whatever you were dreaming about.

Joel’s hands gently grasping your shoulders. He was delivering soft shakes in an attempt to wake you up without scaring you. A scream involuntarily leaves you and you push back against the feeling of hands on you.

“Get the fuck off of me,” you rasp, half asleep and still thrashing. As your mind is still clouded with the nightmare, you did not take kindly to the seemingly unfamiliar hands gripping onto you.

Before Joel is able to wake you fully, your survival instincts kick in. Your own hands reach up to his shoulders, using as much force as you can to throw him back in your slumber state. He tumbles backwards, back meeting the mattress as he didn’t expect a reaction like this from you. Your knees settle on each side of him, straddling his hips before latching your hands onto his neck, pushing your body weight into them.

You’re about to start squeezing when the ringing in your ears subsides and Joel’s voice replaces it.

“Baby, it’s me,” Joel whispers, hands wrapped around your wrist. He’s gently thumbing the top of your hand, eyes searching your frantic face. His own face calm, even with your hands pressing into his throat. “It’s okay, was just a dream.”

Blinking once, twice, three times before his words sink in. Immediately removing your hands from around his neck, your eyes flit around the room rapidly, chest heaving as you begin to come out of the fog of your previous nightmare.

“I…I,” you stutter, shaking your head as your eyes settle back on Joel. The sight of him on his back, neck slightly pink from supporting your weight for a few moments, clouds your vision with tears.

“Ellie…” you sob before frantically trying to remove yourself from Joel’s hips. Images of her, or what was left of her, on the operating table from your dream flash in your mind. “I…couldn’t save her.”

“Sh, baby, she’s okay.” His hands wrap around your hips, Joel immediately sits up. One hand reaches for your cheek, thumbing away the tears that flooded your cheeks. “It was just a dream, she’s asleep in her shed.”

You shake your head, attempting to shake away the images swirling in your mind.

Ellie on the operating table, the doctor’s surgical gloves stained red. You were too late.

Joel on the ground by your feet, the pool of his blood seeping into your shoes. His hands stained red from clutching at his stomach. You were too slow.

“Y…you.”

“M’right here,” Joel reaches for you hand, moving it to rest on his chest. You feel the steady thumping of his heart as he laces his fingers with yours, his opposite hand still resting on your cheek. “It was just a dream, sweetheart.”

Between the steady beating of his heart against your palm and the thumbing on your cheek, your gasping breaths turn to gentle pants. The images in your mind fade more with each thump thump and the man in front of you becomes clearer.

“Just breathe,” Joel whispers, inhaling deeply to match your own. “Ellie is alive, I am alive, you are alive. We’re all safe, okay? Just breathe.”

You again mimic his breathing, not yet trusting your voice as you turn your face to press a kiss to Joel’s palm. He smiles softly at your action, leaning forward to gently ghost his lips against your forehead.

“Do you want to lay back down?” He asks softly, replacing his lips by leaning his own forehead against yours.

After you nod, Joel gently maneuvers the two of you until your backs are resting against the mattress. He adjusts you, hands as soft as ever, so that you are pressed against his side. You burrow yourself into him, wrapping your arm around his waist as you rest your head on his chest.

Joel begins to run his fingers through your hair and you continue to focus on his heart beat, listening to the thumps rather than feeling it with your hand. Just as before, you feel yourself continue to relax with each passing thump, sinking further into the man you love.

“Do you want to talk ‘bout it?” The man in questions asks, voice laced with sleep. His fingers continue to brush through your hair.

In the dark, you smile at his gentle touches. If only Tommy could see him now, you think.

“Y’don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Joel assures you, tucking you in closer with the arm that is wrapped around you.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, relaxing against him. “I want to.”

You press a kiss to his chest, taking a deep breath as you replay the memories from your nightmare.

“It was at the hospital, in Salt Lake,” you start with a deep, shuddering breath. “It felt so real, like we were actually there. It started the same, Ellie reading her puns and then the smoke, then nothing.”

Recounting the tales of your nightmare, you close your eyes as the memories of it sneak back into your mind.

“I woke up alone, in the hospital. I heard gunshots and I followed them. It was you, just like how it happened. We got to the operating room but,” your voice cracks. “W…we were too late. They had already cut into her. She was gone.”

Fresh tears spill down your cheeks as you continue to tell Joel what had happened in your dream.

“You lunged at them but a group of fireflies came in and shot you. I watched you bleed out,” you sob. “They tried to drag me out of the room but I wouldn’t let them. I tried so hard, but then I woke up.”

Joel’s motions in your hair cease before both of his arms are wrapped around you, dragging you closer and squeezing you to him. He whispers gently into your ear as you sob into him, reliving what was easily the worst dream of your life.

Once your sobs turn to silently streaming tears, Joel speaks. “I’m right here, baby. I know it felt s’real but it was just’a dream. Ellie is safe here with us. Nothing happened to me, we’re right here with you.”

You sniffle, nodding.

“Nothing will happen to us, okay?” Joel tilts your head up, gently grasping your chin. “We’re safe here and nothing is going to happen to you, to Ellie, or to me. Okay, sweetheart?”

“Okay,” you squeak. “Promise?”

Joel leans forward, pressing his lips softly with yours for a moment before leaning back. You tuck your head into his neck and breathe him in deeply.

“I promise.”

[vaya-writes]

The Wyvern's Bride - Part 3.7 (NSFW)

When Adalyn gets sacrificed to the local wyvern, she’s a little annoyed and a lot terrified. Upon meeting the wyvern, she discovers that he’s not particularly interested in eating people, and mostly wants to be left alone. In a plot to save himself from the responsibilities his family keep pushing on him, Slate names Adalyn as his human Envoy, and tasks her with finding him a wife.

6800 words. Cis female human x Cis male wyvern (slow burn, arranged marriage, eventual smut). firefly-graphics did the divider.

Masterlist - Previous

All the smutty content warnings. There is penetrative sex. There is oral. There are handjobs. There is overstimulation and a little bit of edging. There's a heap of profanity and a bunch of fluff too.

I'll include content breaks if you don't want to see the explicit stuff, but the whole thing will be suggestive. This chapter IS about Adalyn seducing Slate. But it's also a confession chapter, so there's wholesome stuff for the non smut readers too.

Slate is steadily growing closer to his wit’s end. 

It had started with the nightgowns. The first had been a pale spring green colour. Modest in cut. Daring in meaning. The colour that wyverns tend to flush around their mates. Signifying trust. Fondness. Love. He’d never expected anyone to do that around him.  

But Adalyn can’t possibly know that. 

She’s been wearing them every night whilst lying beside him.  

Things had escalated during yesterday’s beach date. (Outing. Trip. Whatever.) He should have said something. She’d asked him what to wear, and he hadn’t said anything about the colour. It had to be his fault, really. If he’d said something, perhaps she wouldn’t have worn that sky blue delight. Had the audacity to wear such a shade in public. Blue, the colour of attraction, desire, lust.  

He wants to strangle the cousin who’d gifted it to her. Or thank them. He’s not sure yet, there are too many feelings he needs to sort out. Mostly because females only flush blue when they’re open to advances.  

Another thing Adalyn couldn’t possibly have known. Especially with that genuine smile, and that sweet look of focus whenever he’d chatter about something most people found boring. It wasn’t wanton behaviour. Even if wearing the colour beside him in public had made his brain stall several times. 

He’d barely been able to look at her. Had spoken about every fun fact under the sun to stop from spilling his guts or disgracing himself. Because there’s no way Adalyn had meant anything by the dress.  

She’d married him to save him from embarrassment. To try something new, away from the mundanity of life in Fleecehold. Not because she was attracted to him. Not because she wanted him.  

He’d decided it must be Rin, playing a trick on him. Especially as things intensified. Starting with that letter. That parcel. The only thing Adalyn had said about it was that Rin had sent her a book.  

So, he’d deduced that this is Rin’s doing: Adalyn wearing more and more of those colours. A green tunic here. A blue shawl there. The nightgowns fray at his sanity the most, gradually getting shorter or more elaborate. 

He doesn’t sleep well. Lies perfectly still in the bed next to Adalyn, entertaining thoughts that are downright obscene. Frustratingly aroused, most mornings he has to excuse himself before she wakes, to find a private spot in which he can relieve himself. He tries not to think about her when he does. Tries and fails.  

The touches are equally tantalising in their torment. She’d started small. Innocent brushes here and there. A hand on his elbow. A bump against his shoulder. Adalyn reaching up to straighten his collar, or brush hair out of his face. Always with a smile. Gentle grazes that drive him mad. 

Lunch breaks are fraught with tension. Since he’d helped her with the garden, Adalyn has incorporated handfeeding Slate into her repertoire. Offering bites of her own pastries or catching him when his hands are otherwise occupied. Today Slate emerges from her wing, filthy, to find her holding his lunch. 

“Open,” she demands. 

He does so without hesitation. Is scarce able to breathe at her proximity, at her intense stare. He feels his cheeks flush grey-green, but is unable to look away, unable to hide any of the awe or desire from his face.  

She uses her thumb to brush some crumbs from the corner of his mouth, and he damn near melts. She smirks at his reaction, and that’s when he begins to suspect that she’s complicit in the attempts on his control.  

It has to be intentional, at the point. It has to be. The colours, the touches, the ancestors damned pheromones. She’s wearing them again, he notices, not for the first time.  

It had gotten so much worse when she’d unearthed the perfume. Rin’s gift, he begrudgingly remembers. The explosion of scents and pheromones that had given him a headache when first revealed. Now skilfully applied, just faintly enough that at first he thought they might have been his imagination.  

Scents that beckoned him closer. That bade him lean forward when she walked past, or that made him hyperaware of where she was in the room. Ones that whispered hello and tried to put him at ease. Others that got under his skin with how daringly inviting they were, almost begging him to reach out and touch Adalyn.  

Today she’s wearing one of the latter. Along with a teal dress – unseasonably short. He’d be concerned for her wellbeing if he weren’t so busy sneaking glances at her woollen leggings. Or the way the dress clings to her chest. And her ass.  

Ancestors, is he really ogling her so openly? He has to shake his head clear before recentring. She has him in such a daze, that he hadn’t processed any of their conversation. Had he even said anything? Had she? He’s searching his memory when Adalyn turns away and bends to pick up the picnic basket.  

He watches the dress creep up the back of her legs, completely rapt again.  

A strained sound escapes his throat, breaking the spell and startling him out of his trance.  

She’s packing up and he has no recollection of eating. He really did sit through the visit, mute and staring. He curses himself. He’s becoming a pervert and a lecher.  

“I’ll see you at dinner,” she smiles at him, and it hurts.  

He watches her leave before looking down and realising with shame that he’s hard again. It’s probably a contributing factor to his dizziness.  

The only thing that holds him back is perhaps she doesn’t realise just how strong of an effect these things are having. If she’s trying to make him want to jump her, to pin her to the bed and fuck her for hours on end, then mission accomplished.  

But if she’s just trying to court him, to encourage him closer, to tell him it’s okay to feel things, to care about her more than they’d discussed...  

He doesn’t know. He just doesn’t know what to make of the advances.  

It comes to a head when Slate returns from work that night. Adalyn has made dinner again and is dressed in the same teal dress she’d worn at lunch, though she’s stripped out of her shoes and leggings. Her scent wraps around him – inviting and lovely – and he sits and readies himself for another painstaking meal.  

He glances up when she asks about his day, and nearly drops his fork. She’s wearing makeup. Which by itself isn’t a big deal. She’d spent the past few days experimenting and trying on different cosmetics. But tonight her lips are painted a washed out blue and there’s a pale eyeshadow to match.  

It’s ridiculous, but the colour goes right to his hemi. He stares back down at his food, a bit shellshocked, completely spacing on the question she’d asked him.  

“Sorry, I missed what you said?” 

“I said, what did you get up to today?” 

“Oh, uh, the usual. I spent some time in your wing working on the second floor. Then...” he looks again. Can’t stop himself from glancing back up at her too innocent expression, her carefully composed interest and smile.  

He loses track of his words again. “You know, just the usual.” 

Adalyn regales Slate with details of her day while he forces himself to eat. He barely tastes the food. Barely hears what she’s saying. He’s not sure if he’s more in a hurry to finish and leave the table or dreading what comes next.  

Adalyn finishes before he does, and watches him eat with a stare that’s almost predatory. For a moment Slate forgets himself. Forgets his size and his magic and his near immortality. He feels like her prey. A thrill goes through him at the thought. He squashes it down immediately. 

“I think I’ll go do some more work before bed,” Slate mutters, standing once he finishes. 

“Slate.” 

He halts at his name.  

“Please sit back down.” 

He does, face flushing; worried that he appears too eager.  

Adalyn stands and approaches him. All his nerves strain when she stops behind him and rests her hands on his shoulders. He feels like he could jump out of his skin. 

“You should take a break. Are you really going to work through the night?” 

Mute, he shakes his head, mesmerised by her tone. Her words are masked with faux sympathy.  

“Good,” she murmurs, before kneading his shoulders.  

Slate’s face turns greener when a whine escapes his throat. He covers his mouth and coughs, hoping to disguise the slip.  

Adalyn huffs her amusement before digging her fingers in, unknotting his shoulders and working her way down his back. He feels like putty beneath her touch, mouth slightly agape, entire self-control devoted to keeping any more embarrassing noises to himself.  

When she stops he could almost cry, but instead things intensify when Adalyn rounds the chair and takes a seat on his lap. 

He stares at her, eyes too wide. 

“Is this okay?” For a moment she seems hesitant. Doubt creeping into her expression. 

He nods, almost frantic in the movement. “Mhm.” 

She sags in relief before looping her arms around his neck. It puts her face a little too close to his, and he swallows; the only movement he’ll allow. 

She crinkles her nose. “Your clothes are wet.” 

He waits, desperate to see what she does next.  

“Would you... like help taking them off?” 

He goes stiff at her words. In every sense of the word. Thankfully she ignores his erections, using her finger to trace a pattern on his chest instead.  

He’s clenching his jaw so tightly that it hurts. His hands dig into the armrests. He’s worried his claws will materialise and splinter the wood. He has to reply, he remembers, or he won’t get to see what happens next. 

“If you want.”  

She raises her brows. “I’m not asking what I want, I’m asking what you want.” 

By the fucking Ancestors. 

Unbidden, his hands go to her, trembling as he cradles her jaw. The other drifts into her hair. He gets even harder when she relaxes into his touch, turning pliant under his grip. He tries not to sound so choked, so raspy, but he can’t hide his desperation when he replies. “I want to kiss you.” 

She lifts her chin in silent permission, eyelids drooping and jaw going slack. But it’s not enough for Slate. He presses his forehead against hers. “Please, I need to hear you ask.” 

He’s breathless when she shifts, bringing her leg around so that she’s straddling him. He can feel much more of her now. Seated like this, it’d be impossible for Adalyn to miss the bulge in his pants. Shame darkens his cheeks.  

Then she grinds her hips against his.  

The movement is so minute, he’s not sure if he imagined it.  

Her hands tighten around his neck. She brings her lips to his ear. Speaks so clearly, there’d be no mistaking her words. “Kiss me, Slate.” 

Every doubt, hang-up, and hesitation empties from his mind. His shame slips away and it’s almost blissful the way he’s able to turn, touching his lips to hers without overanalysing his actions. 

He realises he’s holding his breath. Pulls back to let it out in a whoosh, before leaning in and kissing her again. He’s too occupied with her touch to fret about the gall of his actions, and he’s moves instinctively, trailing soft kisses along her jaw and neck. He wants to commit every sound she makes to memory; every hitch of her breath, every pant and subdued gasp. He wants to worship every inch of skin he can reach; enjoy every shiver and sound he can wring from her. 

Adalyn is the next to pause for air. Slate doesn’t let up though – having been given permission to kiss his wife, he intends to make the most of the experience. He lavishes kisses down her throat, across her shoulder, savouring her warmth. He lets his teeth scrape against her skin and nearly trembles with excitement when she flinches, before tilting her head back to give him better access. 

“What else do you want?” She murmurs. 

“You.” 

She huffs a laugh. “I’m tired of guessing. Elaborate.” 

He makes himself pull away. Feasts his eyes on her. Her lipstick has smeared. The colour might drive him insane if he looks any longer. 

He closes his eyes and tilts his head back, trying to organise his thoughts. He doesn’t get the chance. Adalyn picks up where he’d left off, leaning in to suck a line of kisses down his throat. He lets out a shaky breath and his grip on her tightens. 

Adalyn pauses. “Is this still okay?” 

“Yes. Fuck, yes. Please, don’t stop.” 

Emboldened by his plea, Adalyn grinds against him – there's no way he’s imagining it this time - her kisses becoming fiercer, their embrace more passionate. She nearly growls when her access is blocked by his collar. “I want to see more of you.” 

--- NSFW Content Ahead ---

Slate doesn’t check himself, removing his shirt faster than he’d done before. Pieces finally click in his brain, and the next step of the evening presents itself to him. He stands, hands going under Adalyn’s ass, and carrying her to the bed. She isn’t fazed by the relocation, doesn’t even stop rubbing against him. She just wraps her legs around his waist before dragging his lips to hers again.  

He kicks off his boots on the way there. Starts unlacing his pants. They make it to the bed and he sits, letting Adalyn straddle him and push him against the mattress.  

“Much better,” she says before trailing her lips down his chest. She takes her time, and Slate practically melts at the attention. Wonders if Adalyn had been as eager to get her hands on him as he’d been her. Probably, he notes as she kisses and sucks nearly every inch of him. She’s exploratory in her path. Her cheek grazes his ribs when she kisses the indent of his scar. She runs her hand along his side, over the ridges and valleys of his muscles. When she turns her attention to one of his nipples he jolts. 

He’s so focused on her mouth that he nearly misses her hand creeping down past his waistband. He lets out a shuddering breath when she rubs against his erections. His thoughts fizzle out when she fists her hand around one of his cocks and pumps it.  

“Is this alright?” She murmurs against him. 

He drags his pants down in answer, giving her better access. She squeezes and Slate can’t help but moan. It takes everything he has to not buck into her hand. 

Adalyn doesn’t bother restraining herself, grinding against Slate’s thigh. When she stops mouthing at his chest he grasps her by the hair again, prompting her upwards to his face. She doesn’t need further instruction, and goes back to kissing him, mindless and messy.   

Slate is close to coming. All she’s done is rub his cock and sit on his lap, and he’s nearly finished. He’s not sure if he should be embarrassed or elated. Is still caught up in surprise at the turn the night had taken. 

Adalyn pulls back to catch her breath. She looks almost smug, watching him writhe and twitch under her touch. She brushes his hair back before placing her free hand on his cheek. “You look good like this.” 

It takes a monumental effort to pull her into focus. He’s so hazy with need and so close to coming that tears prick his eyes. Adalyn is a blur of colour. The smear of her makeup, the marks blossoming on her throat, the flush in her cheeks – it's intoxicating. Another sound escapes him. 

Her face softens at the noise. “You okay?” 

“Adalyn...” He’s breathless. It’s an effort to speak. “If you keep- I want- I'm-” 

“Use your words, dearest,” she leans down in a slow, deliberate movement. Presses her lips to the skin beneath his jaw. Then sucks.  

He can’t use his words. Instead, he sees white as pleasure shoots through him, intense and unrelenting. His hips leave the bed. His breath catches in his throat. His eyes flutter closed. He doesn’t notice Adalyn’s praise as he comes – quite possibly harder than he’d ever done in his life. 

Awareness drifts back to him as he comes down from his high. It doesn’t take long for him to reorient himself, but when he does the room is spinning. His brain feels like mush. Adalyn is still straddling his thigh, her hand splayed against his chest for balance. He wonders if she can feel how hard his heart is beating. She still grips one of his cocks, looking at the mess he’d made with an unreadable expression.  

His tongue feels like lead, and he tries to string the right words together. “I’m sorry, I...” 

He cuts off when she gives his spent cock an experimental squeeze. His hips jerk and he wheezes.  

She huffs and smiles, watching him as she raises her hand to her mouth and licks her fingers clean. 

His untouched cock throbs. What few thoughts had formed in his head quickly disperse. 

“Why are you sorry? It’s not like I did this on accident,” she chides. 

Fuck, he wants more. He needs it. But Adalyn is still dressed. Still composed, looking down at him with a bright-eyed expression he’s entirely unfamiliar with. Five centuries worth of matriarchal and societal conditioning are the final tethers keeping him from responding. From grabbing Adalyn ravaging her. Playing out every dirty little thought he’s had, every fantasy, every impulse.  

He has to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it’s wanted before he can act. That he’s wanted.  

“Do you-” he starts, looking up with searching eyes, “Do you feel like this too?” 

She relaxes on top of him. Her lips twist into a wry smile. “Well, I didn’t come.” 

Need unfurls inside of him, sudden and desperate. To see Adalyn come undone the way he had. To make her gasp and moan and beg for him. To make her feel the way he constantly does around her; needy, depraved, dying for her to take the initiative.  

Before he knows it, he’s swapping places with her. Kissing down the length of her body. Slipping off the bed to kneel on the floor. Murmured pleas stream from him, too fast for him to process each one, “-let me help, let me make it better-” he grips her by the knees and pulls her towards him. “Please, fucking please, I want you so badly, I need to taste you, need to touch-” He parts her thighs. Wetness strings between them. She’s not wearing underwear. The observation knocks the breath from him. 

He kisses her inner thigh. His unspent cock aches, painfully stiff. He grinds against the end of the bed, yearning for friction. “Ask me to touch you. Give me permission. Fuck, Adalyn, tell me what I need to do to make you want me.” 

A hand closes around one of his horns, tugging. His whole scalp lights with pleasure at the sensation, and he shivers, staring up at Adalyn. Having her exert control over him like this is intoxicating. 

Despite her actions, she doesn’t look like she’s in control. Her hair is mussed, her face pink, and she bites down on her lip viciously. Still, she tightens her grip on him. 

“I already want you. I’ve wanted you for weeks. So stop teasing and just-” she cuts off. She lets out a groan, “Gods, are you really going to make me say it?” She pulls her dress up and stares pleadingly. “Use your mouth.” 

Her words are the final fraying on his restraint. Lust rolls in and he pulls her to the edge of the bed. Too eager to temper his actions, he thrusts his face between her folds, tonguing up and down and before he finds her clit and sucks. 

He should have stroked her first. Fondled her breasts or used his fingers. But there’s no room in him for sympathy and he continues his rough treatment, enthralled by the way she squirms beneath him. Her legs shake and jerk, and a stream of high-pitched noises escape her throat. He holds her steadfast, draping her knees over his shoulders and nuzzling closer. 

“-slower, please-” he hears despite the clenching of her thighs around his ears. 

Part of him flickers with remorse. He’d attacked her without any preamble or warmup, lapping up her juices like a wyvern starved. The rest of him is unmoved. Thrilled to hear Adalyn beg. Delighted at being told what to do. And merciless. Having waited long enough for Adalyn to give him an order, he intends to follow this one to the letter, even if she grows to regret the request.  

“You want me to slow down?” He hums as his imagination runs free. She’d been teasing him all day. Two could play that game. 

She whimpers and nods her assent.  

He moves back, giving her some space and lathering kisses on her thighs once more. Despite his sadistic intent, he nearly loses himself worshiping her legs. He sucks and nips at the soft flesh of her inner thighs, watching marks bloom and darken with unshakable focus.  

She goes limp with the treatment. Her moans drop in pitch, her breathing evens out. They both relax, drawn into a new rhythm; less manic, less starved. Softer; more intimate. Her spasms grow further apart, and she seems content to lie there under him. Until she’s not.  

There’s a gentle tug on his horn, and he blinks up at her. She looks wrecked. Her eyes are watery, and her makeup is smudged. He wonders if he’s taking things too far. 

“Please, Slate. Not there.” 

He holds fast to his plan, trusting Adalyn to tell him to stop if it gets too much. He kisses her other thigh. “Here then?” 

She shakes her head. 

He holds back a smirk. Kisses her knee. “Here?” 

Adalyn lets out a whine. Bucks her hips. “Stop teasing.” 

“You told me to slow down.” He nips at her skin before dragging his nose upwards, perfectly content to draw things out. “Unless you want me to go fast again?” 

She doesn’t say anything. Drops her head and lets out a frustrated whine. 

“Tell me where, Adalyn.” He doesn’t hide his smile this time. 

“You know where.” She sounds petulant.  

Warmth spreads through him, but he continues to play dumb, and shrugs. Echoes her earlier words. “Elaborate. I’m tired of guessing.” He scrapes her with his teeth again. “Plus, I like hearing you tell me what to do.” 

Tears drip from her eyes. Slate pulls back, startled. He’s about to apologise, certain he’s pushed too far when she grabs him by both horns. Guides his face to her pussy. 

“Here.” 

His mind goes blank at the action, his thoughts skittering away. Until he’s only aware of her grip and the delectable warmth before him. He takes his time with kitten licks and soft kisses. Teasing forgotten, he treats her with awe, with gentleness. His wife spreading her legs for him is such a privilege, he can’t help but savour every taste.   

Despite his abandoned plan, Adalyn still feels Slate’s exploratory pace. He winds her up until she’s groaning and bucking once more. Impatient, she uses her grip on Slate’s horns to grind against his face.  

Slate drops further at the sensation. With his eyes shut tight and Adalyn’s thighs pressed hard around his head, it’s too easy for him to lose himself. He works without thought, drawn into her taste, her sounds. Her grip on him sends goosebumps down his neck and he hums, happy to relish the sensation, letting Adalyn pull him wherever she likes. 

Trancelike, he moves with increasing fervour, flicking his tongue against her clit before moving down to tease her entrance. Over and over until he’s sucking hard at her pearl just to enjoy the way she shudders against him. He doesn’t notice the growing tension in her limbs, or the change in her volume. Doesn’t notice the signs of the orgasm creeping up on her until she’s gripping his horns with every ounce of her strength and gasping out his name.  

It draws him out of his daze. Rekindles his lust. Slate decides then and there that he needs to hear Adalyn say it again. That he’ll do whatever it takes to keep her like this – moaning and incoherent. Appetite barely whetted, he keeps working, sucking harder on her clit and teasing her entrance with a finger. She’s so slick, slipping inside is effortless. She whines and tries to jerk back, but Slate is resolute, intent on pushing Adalyn as far as she can go. He adds another finger. 

She’s a mess beneath him. Still shaking, riding out the aftershocks of her orgasm. Unable to come down with the way Slate keeps going. She wants to relax, wants to relish the intrusion, but is too heightened to do so. She’s barely aware of the sounds leaving her, the whimpers and groans.  

Every time she untenses, Slate moves his fingers, prompting her to clamp down. Again and again, until she stops trying to pull from his grasp. Starts opening for his touches again. Though she can’t yet stop her cries or hold still. Tears brim her eyes. It’s almost as if she doesn’t know what she wants. 

His prior plan to tease Adalyn until she begged comes back to him. He could keep going, turning her into an oversensitive mess. But looking at her, he doesn’t think he has the restraint. Watching her twitch and loll her head just reminds him of how much he wants to experience her pleasure for himself. To sink inside of her and feel her tremors directly around his cock. 

Slate rests his cheek against her thigh and pauses to catch his breath. He uses the moment to check in. “How you doing, Ad?” 

She tries pressing her legs together, succeeding only in pulling Slate’s face closer. A spent little noise escapes her.  

He can’t help but smile. “Sensitive?” 

She nods. 

He runs his free hand up the outside of her thigh, soothing. “Do you want me to stop?” 

She covers her face. Flinches when Slate curls his fingers inside of her. But doesn’t pull back.  

“I asked you a question.” He takes mercy and eases up. Lets her think unimpeded. Even if he wants to keep distracting her. 

A moment passes and she shakes her head. Her voice is barely a whisper, but Slate still hears her reply.  

“More.” 

He plants a soft kiss onto her thigh. He’s desperate for the next step, still achingly stiff and untouched. But if she wants more, who is he to refuse?  

He kisses his way back to her core, spreading her legs and ready to taste her again when he’s accosted by the swat of her hand. 

“Slate,” she cries and indecency of the sound makes his mouth water. “Please,” she wraps her hand around his horn once more and tugs. “I need the rest of you.” 

He doesn’t have the discipline to hold back. To feel anything but relief at her words. It’s all he can do to crawl up the bed, breathless, until he hovers over her face, caging her in with his forearms. He still needs to see her ask. 

“Say that again.” 

Her nose crinkles and she balls her fists against his chest. Her voice is small. “I need you...” 

Her embarrassment endears him. Arouses him. He can’t help but lower himself, settling between her legs. He strokes her thighs. Creeps his fingers closer to her dripping folds. She pants at the touch, spreading her legs eagerly. The sight threatens to unravel him, but he can still draw this out. Just a bit more. 

“You’re going to have to be specific, sweetheart.” 

Her hazy eyes clear long enough for her to blink up at him, pleading through dampened lashes. “I need you to fuck me.” 

Ancestors. When she looks at him like that, when she says something so crass – he's not going to be able to hold out much longer. His legs tremble as he rubs his cock against her folds. Carefully. Tauntingly.  

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you.” 

She whimpers. Hits his chest. “I said, fuck me.” 

“Ask nicely?” She could give him hell for it later. Right now, nothing beats the glee he feels hearing Adalyn beg. 

“Please,” she whines and tears escape down her cheeks. She wraps her legs around his waist and grinds against him. “Please stop teasing, please just fuck me, please Slate, please.” 

He can’t hold back anymore. Not when she’s lined up so perfectly or begging so prettily. He can’t stop himself from leaning down to brush his lips against her cheek. He tastes her tears before moving his lips to hers, gently at first. Heat grows inside him until he’s kissing her with abandon, fervid and hungry. When he pulls back he’s breathless, but no less eager. 

“I’d be delighted.” 

The last of his patience fleeing him, Slate thrusts inside.  

Her legs wrap tighter around him. They’re both silent but for their heavy breathing. The pause probably only lasts a moment, but it stretches on for Slate, enthralled by Adalyn panting in his ear, the tremble in her muscles, the absolute euphoria of having one of his cocks inside her.  

She moves first, grabbing the hem of her dress and pulling. She lifts her hips to ease the dress up, the motion sending pleasure curling in his gut. Still, he takes Adalyn by the wrist. 

“Leave it on.” 

Adalyn leans back to look into his eyes again, even as her cheeks grow redder. There’s a question in the air, and as he stares at Adalyn, some of the mania, some of the subservience leaves her. She looks pleased. “You want me to leave it on?” 

He nods, suddenly abashed by the request. By the ease at which Adalyn can take control of the situation.  

Her smile widens and she pulls him down into a heated kiss. “Don’t rip it. I like seeing what it does to you.” 

He groans against her neck, heart pounding when Adalyn rolls her hips against him. “You’re a fiend, Adalyn.” He starts fucking her, resisting the urge to sink his teeth into her shoulder while he does. 

She meets his thrusts, thighs trembling with the effort. She takes his hands, coaxing him to squeeze her ass, to touch her waist. “Your fiend.” 

His hemi throbs at the words and he lets out a near growl. The curve of her hips, the warmth of her skin. She’s so soft beneath him. “Yeah?” 

“Mmhm.” 

Slate sits back, pulling Adalyn onto his lap as he goes. She doesn’t need to move much, legs already locked around him. Splayed open above him, with her dress ruffled and her hair loose, Slate doesn’t know where to look. He can’t see a single part of her he doesn’t desire.  

She takes his hands again. Glides them up her stomach, pushing the fabric up as she goes, until her breasts are peaking out. He doesn’t need further instruction, and begins to fondle her, awed. He leans in to suck and nip at her flesh. She jerks in his lap, arching and gasping at the attention, and Slate groans as she clenches around him.  

“All yours, Slate.” 

His hips jerk. “Fuck.” He starts bouncing Adalyn on his lap, eliciting a stream of her gasps. She closes her eyes. Bites down on her lip. He reaches between them to press against her clit, delighting in the way she starts to squirm. “If you keep talking like that I’ll end up fucking you all night.” 

She laughs, but cuts off in a moan. It takes her a moment to reply. “Why wouldn’t I want my husband to fuck me all night? I happen to like him a lot.”  

Her teasing, sultry tone is undermined by her breathlessness, but it still does things to him. He stops palming her breast and grabs her by the hips. Overrides her easy pace on top of him in favour of a rougher fucking. Bucks up against her momentum and weight, driving himself deeper with each thrust, until he’s nearly slamming her down onto his cock. 

There’s still a part of him wondering if he’s taking it too far. Worried he might hurt Adalyn. The bed shakes beneath them, and the sound of their fucking echoes in the stone room. But Adalyn seems to enjoy the treatment. Her mouth is agape, her back arches, her nails scrabble to find purchase on his back. 

There’s no more room for rational thought, watching her like this – feeling her like this. The only thought he’s capable of having is the realisation that he needs more. He fucks her harder, faster, chasing that need for more. More of Adalyn. More of her sounds. More of that hot, wet texture gripping him so tightly. Until she’s convulsing on top of him, clasping a hand over her mouth, strained gasps escaping her. 

He grabs her wrist, unthinking. “I want to hear you.”  

Slate doesn’t give her a chance to respond. Keeps bucking, even as she trembles, limbs wracked with tension. Her moans peak, then stop entirely for a moment as she flexes. The spasms around his cock, the additional slick – feeling her come on top of him is his own undoing.  

The last of his thoughts turn to static. Every muscle in his core tightens. Then he’s slack jawed, head thrown back as he comes inside of Adalyn, hips faltering and coming to a stop once she’s taken every drop. 

“Fuck,” he says. His muscles turn to jelly. When Adalyn stops twitching around him she too goes slack, collapsing against his chest.  

“Yeah,” she agrees.  

--- NSFW Content Ends ---

He closes his eyes against the spinning of the room. Catches his breath. His muscles burn with a pleasant exertion. Strength is already starting to return to his body. The only downside to his quick recovery are the thoughts spooling back into his head; invasive and demeaning. 

Did he really just fuck Adalyn? 

He opens his eyes, and blinks down at her, bewildered. Hair sticks to her nape. Her heart is still pounding, but she’s boneless, the slight drag of her fingers against his arm the only indication of her consciousness.  

Yes. That had just happened. She’d climbed into his lap and asked him what he wanted. And then he’d carried her to the bed. 

She’d literally seduced him. 

Right? 

He curses his doubt. He should be ecstatic. Basking in afterglow. Giddy at Adalyn’s proximity. Not analysing whether or not his wife had actually wanted to have sex with him.  

He glares at the ceiling. He knows he’s being ridiculous. He knows it, he knows it, he knows it. It’s something he’ll have to unlearn. To talk to Adalyn about. Because if she does want him the same way he wants her, and he’s being cautiously obtuse – he winces at the thought. 

“Did you say you’ve wanted me for weeks?” It’s honestly a miracle he remembers the words. The rest of their encounter had been intense enough that all the foreplay, the banter, had burnt into afterthoughts.  

She stirs, opening her eyes to look up at him. Then smiles, her cheeks flushing before she hides her face against his chest. Her words are muffled. “It sounds familiar.” 

“Did you mean it?”  

He feels her swallow. She shifts so that she’s no longer straddling him, instead curling up against his side. “Yes.” 

He stares. Tries to reply, but words just catch in his throat. 

She wants him? (Wanted him. Still wants him?) Does she mean physically? Romantically? He has to know. Has to ask. If only he could formulate a proper sentence.  

Seconds stretch into minutes. Worried he’ll lose his chance, his nerve, he blurts: “Do you like me?” 

She pauses in stroking his collarbone. Looks up at him again, another wry smile at her lips. “You’re asking now?” 

He flushes. “Well, I know you wanted to- that you wanted me. But I mean... Do you want to court me?” 

The smile drops as she presses her lips together. Her face goes red as she stares up at him. She probably doesn’t realise Slate can see so much detail in the dark. 

Finally, she lowers her stare. Her voice is small. “I’ve been trying to court you for weeks.” 

He’s shocked into silence. Barely manages a weak, “What?” 

“I thought bringing you lunch every day and trying to spend so much time with you might clue you in.” 

His eyes widen further. 

“But humans do things differently. We’re a lot more reserved with physical touch and professions of emotion until we’re sure there’s returned feelings. And it’s usually done in equal parts by both men and women. I felt bad approaching you because I didn’t know how you felt about it.” 

He splutters. A small part of him starts spiralling. “You-” 

“I think I would have driven myself insane if Rin hadn’t sent me a book last week. It’s a treatise on wyvern physiology, though there was some etiquette stuff in there too. But even trying some of the stuff it mentioned, I was worried I might go too far.” 

He’s still incredulous. “You like me. Romantically?” 

She hides her face in the pillow. There’s a muffled noise of affirmation. It’s cute. 

It doesn’t tamper his bewilderment. “Why?” 

She turns her face, enough to be audible. “Well, you’re handsome. And interesting. And kind. And easy to be around. And every now and then you do something that’s really attractive. Liking you was mostly... just a crush. That snowballed into something bigger.” 

Amusement breaches his shock, and he relaxes. “You think I’m attractive?” 

Her face turns redder. “Yes. When you... lift things. Or when your clothes get wet.” 

He can’t help but laugh. Wraps his arm around her shoulders and draws her close again.  

“Do you...” she hesitates. Looks nearly as bothered as he’s felt these past few days. 

He scans her face, wondering what could possibly be wrong. Finally, it hits him. 

“Oh!” 

She deflates at his exclamation. He nearly panics at the posture. Rushes to reply. 

“Adalyn, I adore you.” 

Her brow crinkles. “But I’m... I’m just...” 

He takes her by the jaw. Runs his thumb over her cheek. “You’re thoughtful. You take me seriously. You listen to me. You respect me.” 

She calms enough to frown. “That’s a low bar.” 

Slate presses his forehead to hers. “You make me feel welcome. It’s... you have no idea how much I appreciate you.” 

She untenses when he leans in and touches his lips to her own. She melts into the kiss and his mind goes delightfully fuzzy. It’s sweet, and soft, and he loses track of time. His head spins when they pause. Close enough to share breath.  

He flushes as he contemplates his next words. “Can I... Can you tell me more about how humans make advances? Maybe not right now, but...” 

She smiles, and it’s sweet enough to wind him. “Of course.” 

He stares for a moment. Touches his forehead to hers again, inhaling deeply. Sweat and time have dulled her perfume, but it still lingers in the back of his mind, ambrosial and rich. Euphoria trickles into him, steadily enough that he leans down to kiss her again. Slowly, with a gradual increase in hunger. Until his hand is curling in her hair again, and he’s nearly on top of Adalyn – the heat between them rekindled. 

She breaks away, her eyes crinkling as she grins. “Are you still hard?” 

His lips twitch. “That’s the other one.” 

“Didn’t I get that one off before...?” 

He huffs. “I told you what’d happen if you kept running your mouth.” 

She laughs before stretching up to kiss him again. The intensity returns, Adalyn definitely encouraging it with the way she clings to him, her hands coasting along his back, her breasts pressing against his chest. Until she pulls away, and shuffles back. 

Slate doesn’t have time to be disappointed, because Adalyn rolls onto her stomach and lifts her ass. She gives an enticing wiggle, rubbing against him. “I could take more. But you’re changing the sheets afterwards. 

Something in his chest begins to soar. He could probably tear up from happiness, from affection. Especially if he thinks too long about her smile, or how easily she’s able to proposition him.  

He sets aside the feelings for later.  

Then pins Adalyn to the mattress, ready to start again.  

Next

[nicoline1998enilocin]

So my request would be for ransom.

Male reader (23) bratty soft dom top to a stuck up needy bottom Ransom (26)

Reader graduated art school for illustration but has been just living art life as a ceramics teacher when gets a call from his family about the arranged marriage between him and ransom that was signed over from both their parents when they were kids. For readers family is also another publishing house mainly for graphic novels etc.

Reader and Ransom meet up at thrombes after many years bickering about how they don’t wanna be married. They have rings they have to wear as fiancés before the wedding and cnat have outside relationships.(ransom pissed about that)

Reader goes back to work. Ransoms shows up one late evening as reader is cleaning up and gets on readers nerves and then turns spicy 🥵

They have to go to another dinner at thrombey and reader defends ransom against his drysdale and thrombeey family. Ransom likes that and is falling hard for the reader but ignores it for it’s an arrange marriage and such

But as per the contract have to live together feelings bubble up during a fight and ransom confesses to the reader and runs away cuz he doesn’t know how to deal but reader returns feelings and stuff! Idk I’m not good at writing!!

But yeah!! Love how u write sub ransom!! -⚡️⚡️⚡️

A special bond

PAIRING | Sub!Ransom Drysdale x Soft Dom!Male!Reader

WORD COUNT | 4.2K

SUMMARY | You're forced into an arranged marriage with the one and only Ransom Drysdale, even though neither of you likes the other. After being forced to be close to one another, the tension keeps rising, and it all takes a steamy turn once one of you finally snaps and gives into their feelings.

WARNING(S) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. Angst, arranged marriage to lovers, swearing, smut [ Sub!Ransom, Soft Dom!Reader, Oral (both receiving), daddy kink, praise kink, implied vanilla sex, unprotected anal sex (wrap it before you tap it!), implied aftercare ].

A/N | Thank you for this fantastic request, sweet Nonnie! This will be my first time writing for a male! reader, so I hope I can do it justice. I had lots of fun exploring more of our favorite Sub!Ransom, so I hope you will enjoy the route I chose for this fic 🖤

Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💚

Divider is made by @firefly-graphics | 18+ banner is made by yours truly,

Main Masterlist | Ransom Drysdale Masterlist

The last bell of the day just went off, and it's time to clean your classroom before going home for the weekend. You've planned to have a leisurely weekend at home, work on some of your digital art, or read a book or two.

Just when your mind wanders to one of the books waiting for you at home, your phone rings in your back pocket, so you put down some of the clay you were about to put away and fish it out, sighing as you see who's calling you.

''What?!'' you spit out at the phone, already annoyed about her calling you. She never calls with any good news, and you have a clue this time would be the same.

''Hello to you too,'' she starts, and you let out a sigh at her comment.

''Tell me what's going on, or I'll hang up,'' you say, but she cuts you off mid-sentence.

''You're coming to dinner at the Thrombey household tomorrow, and you can not say no. Be there at 8 PM, and don't be late,'' she says before saying goodbye and hanging up.

Your heart starts beating faster at the thought of going over there, and you don't like what's probably going on. You drop your phone on your desk and continue cleaning up, reviews of tomorrow taking over your mind.

Tomorrow evening has come way too soon for your liking, and now you're getting ready after your shower, your beard neatly trimmed before putting on your outfit for dinner at the Thrombeys.

As much as you hate your Mom, you would never go against her demanding you be somewhere, having learned that years ago, you do as she says, just to be gone soon after it starts.

When you're ready, you grab your keys and phone before heading out the door and towards your car. When you get in, you close your eyes tightly and hold onto your steering wheel a little too hard to keep yourself calm before driving; you don't want to end up in an accident.

On your drive to the Thrombey estate, you keep thinking about why you ever said no to that job on the other side of the world; that way, you would have to deal with any of these people, especially not your Mom.

When you arrive at the estate, you see a car you didn't want to see, Ransom's Beemer. After a sigh, you put your car in park and put on your jacket before stepping into the cold air outside, ready to walk into the lion's den.

You walk up to the front door and ring the bell, waiting to be walking into literal hell. It doesn't surprise you when the devil herself opens the door, either.

''Hello, Linda,'' you say with faux politeness.

She lets you in after a sigh, barely acknowledging your existence, and you prefer keeping it that way. After taking off your coat and walking into the dining room, you're greeted by Harlan Thrombey, Linda, Richard Drysdale, their son Ransom, and your parents.

After greeting everyone except Ransom, you sit at the table and avoid his gaze. The two of you were the best friends growing up, but after a huge fight, you were never the same and have never seen each other since.

While dinner is served, Linda decides to cut right to the chase, and when she does, you nearly spit out your food all over the table.

''You-'' Linda points at you, and then to Ransom, ''-are getting married later this year,'' she says, and that's all you hear before everything blacks out, and you've fainted.

In the meantime, Ransom has been arguing about not wanting to get married to you - or at all, for that matter - which only made you feel worse by the time you've gotten back into consciousness.

''I'm not fucking marrying him, you are out of your minds!'' Ransom yells at both your parents by the time you're back, and that comment does sting a little. It's not like you were planning on getting married, but that's beside the point.

''D-Do we have any say in this?'' you say, finally back on earth with a pounding headache.

''No, it's all been dealt with, and from now on, both of you are in an exclusive relationship, or I guess I should say you two are officially engaged. That means not fucking everything that moves, Ransom,'' Linda says with a pointed tone.

Ransom's not happy with that, though you have less of a problem. Regardless, it's not like you were in a relationship or getting laid regularly.

The rest of the evening goes by quickly, and most of it goes over your head. All you know is that you'll have to marry the man you've had a huge falling out with, which will happen in less than a few months.

''Thank you for coming, darling. I can't wait to see you on your wedding day,'' your Mom says with a fake smile, and you give one back that's just as fake, trying to keep up appearances.

Today's the day you're officially marrying Ransom, and even though you're very nervous, there's a small part inside of you that's also excited.

If it wasn't for the fact that this is arranged and you have zero say in anything, you would be looking forward to this day, but you don't.

So here you are, in front of the wedding aisle, guests seated, looking at the man you'll be married to in less than a few minutes. His eyes look both angry and... desperate. That can't be right, you think to yourself, and you almost miss the moment you have to say, 'I do.'

''Do you take Hugh Ransom Drysdale to be your lawfully wedded husband? Do you promise to love, comfort, honor, and keep him for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health and forsaking all others, be faithful only to him so long as you both shall live?''

''I do,'' you say almost breathless, the realization sinking in that you're about to seal your wedding to your husband with a kiss, one that you have thought many times but were sure would never happen.

Faith can be funny sometimes. And a little cruel, too. But it's mostly funny.

''I now pronounce you two married!'' the officiant says before stepping aside, ensuring he's not in the way of your and Ransom's first kiss. As you take a deep breath, you step closer, and your hand moves to Ransom's waist.

Before you can fully move to him and meet in the middle, Ransom crashes his lips onto yours, knocking the air out of your lungs before you kiss him back; this surprises you.

Despite the surprise, you kiss him back with just as much, if not more, vigor now that you have gotten a taste, and you're immediately addicted, already chasing his lips when he pulls away.

''Let's get out of here,'' you say, and Ransom nods as if a switch inside him was flipped, and you could see it in his eyes. You've seen that look before in some other men, but seeing it in your husband's eyes have you chubbing up in your pants. Ransom is a sub.

You two rush to the suite where you had gotten ready before the wedding, and you quickly close the door behind you as you push Ransom against it.

Your lips immediately find each other again, and you can feel yourself getting even harder now, your dick straining painfully against the zipper of your pants, but you ignore it for now. All you want now is to make Ransom feel good so he can make you feel even better.

Soft moans leave Ransom's lips as you kiss your way down his jaw and neck as you take off his jacket, untie his tie, and unbutton his shirt to expose his beautiful chest to you.

''You look so good, Baby. Are you going to let Daddy make you feel so good?'' you ask, and Ransom's eyes gloss over at the thought, and all he can do is nod slowly.

''Words,'' you demand, and Ransom feels himself getting harder at the demand, his submissive side feeling even better now. And it's not that he doesn't want to talk, but it feels like his whole body is on fire with pure lust, his brain has gone fuzzy from pleasure, and his throat feels filled with cotton balls.

Yet, he manages to squeak out a small yes at your demand, and you reward him with lots of praise and soft kisses on your way down, leaving a kiss between every praise, not leaving a single inch of his chest and stomach untouched.

''You're doing so well for me, listening to me. You're being such a good boy for me, Baby,'' you tell him until you have found your spot on the floor, and your hands are unzipping Ransom's pants and pulling them down to uncover his rigid member.

And when it does, your eyes almost pop out of your head from the surprise because Ransom's a lot bigger than you had anticipated, but you're determined to take every last inch of him in your mouth.

''Holy fuck...'' you whisper before wrapping your hand around his length and slowly moving up and down, earning yourself a bit of pre-cum that leaks from his tip, and you gladly lick it up.

Ransom's head falls back against the door you pushed him against with a loud thud and a groan at the feeling of your hand and mouth on him, and he almost can't take it. Almost. Because on your way down, you told him he's not allowed to cum without permission, and he wants to be your good boy so badly.

To surprise him, you take him into your mouth without warning, and the sound he makes ensures you're fully hard as well at this point, so you open your pants and take yourself out, giving your cock a few leisurely strokes.

The groans you let out at the feeling of him in your mouth are slowly creeping up Ransom's spine, his hands in fists on the side of his body to not make himself cum yet.

You slowly work more of him into your mouth until you take him altogether, thankful for your lack of gag reflex now. You stay like this for a few long seconds before pulling off him and giving Ransom his last order.

''Fuck my throat until you cum for me, Baby. And let Daddy hear how good he makes you feel,'' you say before wrapping your lips around him again, and Ransom does as you tell him, chasing his orgasm as you suck him.

The moans and groans from Ransom are almost pornographic, but it feels so fucking good. Before you know it, you're cumming with a loud cry, too, your cum spurting out in long spurts over the tiles in the room, followed closely by Ransom shooting his into your throat, letting you swallow it all.

''Good boy,'' is the last you say before cleaning him up and ensuring he's come down from his high enough to get back to the party because the two of you are supposed to cut the cake, but you were nowhere to be found.

Ever since the wedding, Ransom hasn't changed a single bit, and he's still stuck up as ever, but now you're living together with his ass too. And that's gained you more fights than you could have ever thought.

But this evening, something felt different. Usually, when Ransom would be late, he would always let you know, but this time he didn't. And even though you don't want to admit it to yourself, you're worried.

You grab your phone again and call Ransom, but to no avail; he needs to pick up. Not even 5 minutes later, you hear the front door open, and Ransom walks in, acting like nothing was happening like you didn't call him three times to see if he's okay. Like he didn't have you worried to death about him.

''Where the fuck have you been?'' you spit out as soon as he walks into the kitchen.

''Why the fuck do you care? It's not like we like each other, so fuck off,'' Ransom spat back at you, but he knows he crossed a line. Despite this, he keeps walking, your eyes burning a hole in the back of his head.

''I care because you're my husband, Ransom. You may not like it, but you're still my husband; we're still married. I thought something had happened to you!'' you say with a raise of your voice, which has Ransom stopping in his tracks.

Despite all your fights over the littlest things, tonight is the first time you've raised your voice at him. And it has the effect you had hoped it would have because he turns around and looks at you mournfully.

''Are you seriously pouting at me? You are fucking unbelievable, Ransom. You know what? I think I'm going to have to punish you for it. Maybe that way you'll learn some actual human decency,'' you say dryly, but Ransom shakes his head.

''Did you forget who's talking here? I believe I am in charge, and you are supposed to listen to me. Get your ass upstairs and get ready in the position. You're not allowed to touch yourself tonight, and you will have to wait until I get there even to move as much as a single muscle,'' you order, and off he goes.

You sigh as you finish the dishes and put the leftovers you saved for Ransom into the fridge. You may be angry at him, but you're not inhumane. He'll have to eat later.

Ransom's been sitting in the bedroom for half an hour, and his knees are starting to hurt, but it gives him an excellent chance to think about what he did. And he did just that, so when you walk into the bedroom with only your boxer briefs still on, he looks up at you with an expectant look.

''Don't look so happy, Ransom. This isn't your punishment yet,'' you tell him, and you can't help but smile at how you see his eyes roam over your chest and abdomen to the tent you've pitched in your underwear.

As much as Ransom gets on your nerves, you still get off on the dynamic the two of you have. Ransom is the needy and subby bottom, insatiable at the best times. You are the equally needy but very giving Dom. This makes every fight worth it because you know you two have nothing but respect for the other person in these moments.

Though Ransom has a funny way of showing it.

''Have you thought about what you did?'' you ask, your voice dropping a little deeper on purpose, which has the desired effect as you see the chill going down Ransom's spine. He's almost where you want him; he needs one last push.

''Y-Yes, Daddy,'' he croaks out, and you slowly walk over to where he's sitting on the bed on his knees, his arms behind his back and his dick soft between his legs. Perfect.

''And?''

''I was h-home late and didn't t-tell you I w-would be,'' he says, a tear escaping and softly trailing down his face. You climb onto the bed and crawl your way to Ransom, grabbing his face softly in your hands, and you bring his forehead to your lips to calm him down.

''I-I'm so s-sorry, Daddy,'' he hiccups through his tears, and you know he is sorry. Seeing this side of him always made you feel a little bad for him, and you don't want him to sink into it too deep, so you pull him into your chest, ignoring all your needs right now and just calming him down.

''Sshhh, I know you are, Baby. It's okay, you're being a good boy for me right now,'' you assure him, and you wrap his hands around your waist as well, pulling him as close as you possibly can while whispering sweet words to him, and he's feeling better.

You pull away and look at him before placing a small kiss on his forehead.

''Do you want to continue with your punishment right now? If not, we will do it when you're in a better headspace,'' you say, and Ransom shakes his head. He doesn't want to continue right now.

''It's okay, come on. Let's lay down and cuddle for a bit, and then we can get some dinner in you,'' you say, but Ransom doesn't budge.

''Want you...'' he says, and this time, he looks into your eyes with pure desire. His eyes are red from crying, and his cheeks are flushed, which gives him an almost innocent look, and you feel a fire deep inside you burning for him.

Feelings you're not ready to give into. It's an arranged marriage; you shouldn't have feelings for this man, but it's getting harder to deny that you do.

Instead of the punishment, you guided Ransom slowly onto his back while giving him lots of kisses, and your lips met in a passionate, love-filled kiss that seemed to go on forever, but it was precisely what the two of you needed now.

The rest of the evening is spent wrapped up in one another, having slow vanilla sex, and it is the first time the two of you are spending your time like this.

Both of you are entirely spent at the end of the evening, and you wouldn't want it any other way. When you two were done, you took a shower together and reheated dinner for Ransom before sitting on the couch and watching TV together.

You both went to bed at the same time and shared more soft kisses and lots of cuddles and suddenly, it felt like this marriage thing might not be so bad after all. If only you could stay in this bubble forever.

''Are you ready to go? We have dinner, remember?'' you tell Ransom, and he walks into the bedroom after getting dressed; you put on your outfit as well.

''How can I forget if you mention it every fucking second of every day?!'' Ransom says as he throws his hands up in the air. Usually, you would have reprimanded him, but he's under much stress due to this dinner, so you let it slide for now.

''Right, I'm ready to go,'' you say after fixing your hair and beard one last time, and you walk out the front door to your car, followed closely by Ransom.

''No, we're taking my car. I'm not getting in that beemer of yours,'' you sigh as you unlock your car, and Ransom sighs, so you send him a pointed look.

''Don't even think about it, Ransom. We don't have time,'' you say, and he gets into the passenger seat of your car without another word. It's quite a long drive, and after a while, you let your hand rest on Ransom's thigh without thinking about it, but Ransom tenses under your touch.

''Oh, fuck,'' you say, and you pull back, but Ransom grabs hold of your wrist and places it back on his thigh without saying a word, and he looks out the window. You can't help but let a small smile escape your lips.

Ransom runs out of your car and into the house when you arrive. He got painfully hard from your hand being so close to where he needed you the most, and he needs some relief.

''What do you think you're doing?'' you ask as you open the bathroom door, and Ransom immediately stops his actions and gets bright red at the fact that he got caught.

''C'mere, let me help you. Want to have Daddy make you feel so good?'' you ask, and Ransom nods shyly. You sink on your knees and take him into your mouth immediately, and it doesn't take long for Ransom to cum in your throat, making you swallow it all.

''Good boy,'' you say before stuffing him back into his pants and heading for dinner.

''W-What about-''

''Later. Now it's time for dinner,'' you say, and Ransom nods before following you into the dining room, where most of his family is already seated.

The conversation landed on the two of you quickly, and you answered every question without missing a beat, glancing over at Ransom repeatedly.

It isn't until Richard makes one more rude comment under his breath about the two of you that you completely snap, and a sea of emotions comes out in a steady stream.

''What is your fucking problem?! You can talk to us like normal humans if you have a problem with me and Ransom. And besides, it is because of you that ensured we're in this to begin with. We have never done anything wrong; we're just living the life that you forced upon us, so you should leave us the fuck alone. Asshole!''

With those words, you storm out of the dining room and hear Ransom say something to them as well, but you're too far away to what exactly.

You run outside and into your car, needing to escape everyone for a while. You can't look at them, and especially not your husband, so you decide to take a drive. Despite running after you as fast as he can, Ransom can only watch as you drive without him.

After about 30 minutes of driving, you stop on the side of the road, and your emotions all come out; you hit the steering wheel, crying and screaming, anything to make yourself feel better, but nothing works.

''What the fuck did I do to deserve this?! I'm fucking married to a guy who hates me, I have a shitty job, and I can't even talk to anyone without feeling like I'm out of place,'' you yell against nothing, and it feels good to finally get those feelings out, even though they're only followed by more tears.

You're ripped from your thoughts when you receive a call from Ransom, but you don't answer the first time. Immediately, he calls again, and this time, you do answer.

''The fuck do you want, Ransom? Can't you leave me alone?'' you sigh as you wipe your tears, but hearing his voice only worsens it. The small fire inside you has become a complete sea of flames, and you can't hide your feelings anymore. But neither can Ransom.

''No, I can't. And you know why? Because I fucking love you. I didn't want to admit it since we're forced into this, but I love you, okay? And I need you to come home because it's fucking unbearable without you here,'' Ransom sighs, and you can't help but laugh.

''The fuck are you laughing at?'' Ransom spits over the phone, but you can't help but laugh uncontrollably because you finally know you feel the same as he does.

''I fucking love you, Ransom. I have for years, even before the fucking fight that tore us apart. So yeah, that's why I agreed to this marriage with you. But it feels so fucking good to tell you I love you, Ransom. I always have, and I promise you every single day from now on just how much,'' you say before driving back to the Thrombey estate and picking him up.

When you finally arrived home, you two were all over each other immediately. They had the most passionate session of sex you've ever had together on the living room couch because neither of you could make it to the bedroom.

''F-fuck, still so tight for me, Baby,'' you whisper in Ransom's ear as you push in after working him open for the most significant part of an hour, drinking in every moan slipping past his lips.

''Such a perfect boy for Daddy, gonna let Daddy use your hole like the fucktoy you are, huh?'' you say with a mischievous grin on his face, and all Ransom can do is nod in agreement while you slowly push in further, groaning at the feeling of him clenching down on you as you stroke his cock.

When you're fully in, you slowly start moving in and out, making Ransom arch his back off the couch and into you, only wanting to be close to you right now.

''D-Daddy!'' he screams out as you continuously thrust against his prostate, and you stroke him through his orgasm, his cum spurting out onto his stomach and chest before you lick it up and work your tongue into his mouth so he can taste himself in your mouth.

''Gonna cum for you, Baby. Fuck, take my cum!'' you groan as you chase your high, and you shoot every last drop deep into Ransom before collapsing on top of him, whispering sweet words to him as you both come down.

Afterward, you take a relaxing bath together, exchanging sweet words and lots of 'I love you ' kisses. Finally, it feels perfect, like you live the life you've always dreamt of.

That night, you fall asleep in your husband's arms, feeling like it's meant to be. Tonight is the first night of the rest of your lives together.

[late-to-the-party-81]

Like fireworks on the Fourth of July

AN: The lovely @krissy25 sent me a Thot about DBF Steve. I’m still gonna write that, but this sorta happened too.

Beta’d by @sgt-seabass

Moodboard by me

Divider by @firefly-graphics

EDIT: Now part of a series - find the rest here

Pairing: DBF Steve Rogers x inexperienced (but not virgin) reader (Babydoll).

WC: 3.4k

CW: Age gap (Steve early 40’s, Reader early 20’s) almost Soft Dark Steve, power imbalance, tender smut, grinding, oral (F receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected Pin V sex (reader on BC), implied cum eating, pet names.

Why were you even doing this? It was just so weird.

Because he’s hot, your brain supplied, and you tried desperately to quieten the treacherous voice.

It was the Fourth of July, a day of national celebration, but also your dad’s best friend’s birthday. 

Steve Rogers.

You couldn’t help the little sigh you made when you thought about the man. Your dad had made friends with him, down the VA, when you were 16. You’d thought him handsome then - far too young and good looking to be a friend of your dad’s. But now, more than five years later, with the grey creeping into his hair, you thought him the most magnificent male specimen ever to grace the earth.

The way he acted, the way he held himself - the boys you knew at college could never compare, and it wasn’t as though you hadn’t tried, but they just didn’t cut it. They couldn’t satisfy you the way you imagined Steve could.

And now, here you were, pulling up outside his house in your battered car, back home for the summer. As to why you were there, well, ever since your Dad and Steve became friends, he’d invited the younger man to join your family for the Fourth of July celebrations. He’d pick him up and take him with you all to the local display. Your mum always packed a cake just for him, and insisted you all sing ‘Happy Birthday’ just before the fireworks started.  

However, this year was different; both your parents had the ‘flu, but your mother had insisted that you continue the tradition.

“It’s sad that Steve has never settled down, because he’s got no-one but us to spend his birthday with. You know he doesn’t have any family left, so you have to go and take him to the display. Just pick up a smaller cake at the store.”

You shook your head to yourself as you put the car into park. You really should’ve said no, used the excuse that Steve wouldn’t want to spend the evening with just you; he’s your dad’s friend, not yours. Still, here you were. 

As you got out of the car you smoothed down your sundress, watching the full skirt swish around your knees. Then, taking a deep breath, and hoping that you could keep your body under control, you strode up the path to Steve’s front door and rapped on it sharply.

There were a few moments of silence before you heard him padding towards the door. You schooled your face into a smile, but as the door opened you feared it had morphed into a rictus grin as you took in the sight in front of you. Steve stood inside the door, blue jeans moulded to his lower body, but with the fly button still undone, an open flannel shirt exposing most of his wonderfully broad chest, and he had a towel half up to his head, where he’d obviously been drying his hair after a shower.

“Hi!” 

Your greeting came out as a strangled squeak, and for some reason you also raised your hand, as though he hadn’t seen you. A wave of embarrassment crashed through you as Steve smiled down, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He leant his massive body against the door frame, and something so nonchalant should not have been so sexy.

“Hey there. I wasn’t expecting you. I thought your parents were sick?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, only to feel it being batted around by the butterflies in your stomach. He was so big.

“Um, they are, but they didn’t want you to be alone on your birthday, and said I should still come. I can drive us to the park, so you can still have a celebratory beer or two. I’ve even got cake in the car.”

Steve’s lips twitched as he looked at you.

“Is that so?” Arms still crossed, he pushed himself away from the door, and stood to the side to allow you to pass. “I’m not really ready to go out yet, so you’d best come in.”

You tried not to let your nerves show. You’d only been inside Steve’s house a few times over the past, but each of those had been with your Dad, and all you’d done is stand in his hallway and wait for the pair of them to do whatever it was they needed to do before heading out.

Desperately coaching your features into what you hoped was an expression of nonchalance, you stepped forward. As you brushed past Steve, you couldn’t help but become slightly intoxicated with his fresh, clean scent and it took all your willpower not to scent him like a cat. He gestured to your left and a room, which you took to be the living room. He followed you in and his voice, when it sounded in your ear, made you jerk in surprise at its closeness.

“Take a seat and I’ll be back with you in a moment.”

Your eyes followed his retreating form, taking in the broadness of his shoulders and the ridiculous relative slimness of his waist. And that ass! You’d never really thought about men’s backsides before, but Steve’s - phew-ee - it made you wanna sink your teeth into it. 

Although he’d bidden you to sit, you felt too agitated and keyed-up. Instead you made a slow circuit of the room, taking in the decor, the pictures, the books. Everything screamed ‘Steve’ at you, from the dark wood and red leather desk furniture, to the books on military history (ancient and modern), both then juxtaposed by the massive TV, set up with what looked like a sinfully comfortable couch opposite it. You trailed your fingers along the edges of the bookcase and then the exposed brickwork of the wall.

“Does it pass muster?”

You jumped and whirled around, hand to your chest and heart in your throat.

Steve looked at you, hands up in a way that made it look like he was trying to calm a skittish horse.

“Sorry, babydoll. Didn’t mean to scare you. It just looked like you were inspecting for dust.”

That had always been his nickname for you, and it did something to you each time he said it. You were sad to see that his shirt and jeans were now properly fastened, but you supposed he wasn’t going to go out in public dressed otherwise. The thought of other girls, other women looking at him and thinking the same thoughts as you brought out a possessiveness in you, even though you could never act on it.

Gracefully, he moved across the space, but just before he reached you, just as you were about to choke on your own indrawn breath, he moved seamlessly to the couch.

“Let’s sit and catch up a bit in the relative quiet, before we have to deal with hordes of other folk.”

Smiling shyly, you moved towards the other end of the couch, trying to perch delicately on the cushions, but finding yourself sinking into their plush softness. You let out a small noise of surprise as you tried to rebalance yourself and Steve chuckled.

“So, your Dad tells me it’s the final year of college for you next year, yeah?”

“Um, yeah. I’m home for the summer and then this time next year I’ll have to be looking for a job.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine, smart thing like you. Although what surprises me is that you’ve never brought a boyfriend home. Thought they’d be all round you like flies round honey.”

You snorted and a look of disdain crossed your face.

“When was the last time you were around any college guys, Steve. They’re all pigs. I’m not wasting my time on them.”

He chuckled at your response and smiled, but there was an edge to it, a hint of danger. 

“And who would you spend your time on, huh?”

You were hypnotised by his gaze, and you didn’t notice him drawing closer until he was right there, his muscular arms caging you in on the sofa. Your voice caught in your throat and you could feel your eyes go wide.

“Tell me, babydoll. Are you saying you want someone older? Someone who knows how to please a woman?”

Steve’s voice was deep, the timbre of it vibrating through your chest and you could feel yourself getting aroused. His nose was almost brushing up against yours; you were breathing in the same air as him.

“I’ve seen how you look at me when you think no-one’s watching. Seen the hunger in your eyes, the way you squeeze your thighs together to get a modicum of relief.”

A small moan slipped from your lips and your eyes fluttered.

“Steve…” You weren’t even sure if you were questioning or begging. He shifted closer, his knee wedging between your thighs, and his cheek brushing against yours as he continued to whisper into your ear.

“You think of me when you touch yourself, don’t you? Imagine your fingers are mine, stretching you, filling you…”

Your fingers gripped the cushion you were sitting on painfully, and you whimpered.

“But it still doesn’t satisfy you, does it? How about I show you, babydoll? Give you the pleasure you’ve been desiring for years? Would you want that?”

His hand left the side of the sofa where he’d been barricading you and, ever so gently, brushed down the side of your body, before settling on your hip. His fingers squeezed into your flesh, his grip firm and possessive.

“I’ve watched you too. Watched you grow up and flourish into a beautiful young woman. Watched as you teased me with your swim suits and your barely there outfits. Watched all those pathetic boys try to chat you up and catch your attention. But you’re mine, aren’t you? You’ve always been mine, babydoll…”

Your resolve snapped, and you turned your head, closing the scant inch of distance between your faces, and kissed him hard. Your hands flew up, curling into the soft fabric of his shirt instead, anchoring you to him.

The kiss quickly turned heated, Steve’s lips pushing your own open, his tongue invading your mouth. He growled, a primal sound that went straight to your pussy, and his arms wrapped around you as he leaned back, easily man-handling you to straddle his lap. Steve’shands slipped up under the floaty material of your dress, palming your thighs before sliding to grab your ass, encouraging you to grind on him. 

“Yeah, babydoll. Feel what you do to me. All those evenings having dinner with you and your parents, the summer afternoon cookouts - I’d have to come home and touch myself, imagining you riding me, imagine all the sweet noises you’d make for me.”

You mewled, as if on cue, your clit throbbing in your panties as you rubbed it over Steve’s clothed erection. He moaned in response and surged to his feet, easily lifting you with him and you wrapped your legs around his waist, your arms moving to hold onto his shoulders.

“You want this, sweet-stuff? Want me to ruin you for any other man?”

“Steve… yes, please. I need you.”

He smiled against your lips as he carried you upstairs. 

Steve’s bedroom was bathed in the golden light of the setting sun as he pushed the door open with his shoulder, and the two of you fell down onto the bed. His mouth trailed down your neck, sucking marks over your clavicle. His fingers worked the buttons down the front of your dress and the random thought of how surprisingly dexterous his fingers were ran through your brain, but you were pulled back to the moment as Steve’s lips continued their blissful assault down your body. 

He kissed and licked and bit across the swell of your breasts, before sucking on each nipple in turn where they pushed up against the lace of your bra. You felt bereft as he left them and continued his downward movement. All of your dress buttons were undone now and Steve pushed the fabric fully apart. His lips mapped their way over the softness of your stomach and across your lower abdomen. He looked up at you through his lashes, his gaze heated, his eyes dark with lust.

“I wanna taste you, babydoll. Gotta know how sweet you are.”

His fingers curled into the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your legs and you kicked them away, along with your pumps. Receiving oral sex had never really been satisfying for you before, but you had a feeling that Steve knew what he was doing. You heard him draw in his breath as he looked down at you.

“You’re so pretty, sweetheart. Fuck.”

He kissed your inner thighs as he pressed them up and apart with his hands, spreading you wide, and open to his leering stare. He then looked up at you again, his eyes boring into yours as he smirked and then lowered his mouth. The fingers of one of your hands curled into the comforter on his bed, whilst the fingers of the other gripped Steve’s hair, as he licked and feasted on you. His hands were on your hips, stopping you from squirming, keeping you attached to him. 

His tongue dove into your channel and your eyes rolled back in your head. His nose pressed against your clit, providing pressure you didn’t know you needed. Moans and whimpers of pleasure left your mouth and you could feel your orgasm building. 

The thought that it was going to be Steve who was going to give you the first orgasm you hadn’t given yourself, somehow heightened your arousal. You couldn’t believe how turned on, how wet, you were. Steve moved his mouth so he could suck your swollen clit into his mouth, and he pressed two fingers into your soaked pussy. You wailed as you came, the pleasure lancing through you like a lighting bolt. Steve suckled gently on you, his fingers slowly pumping until you lightly pushed his head away and tried to wriggle out of his grasp.

“Fuck!” 

You could barely speak, but managed to force out the expletive. Steve chuckled as he moved back up your lax body, face glistening and he kissed you hard, making you taste yourself on his lips and tongue. 

You both scrabbled to remove your bra and dress along with Steve’s shirt and jeans. Your hands roamed across his chest, squeezing his pecs before travelling down to feel his abs. He grinned at you and the front lock of his hair came out of its normal rigid coiffure to flop over his forehead, giving him a younger, boyish look.

“I could listen to those cries for the rest of my life, babydoll. So fucking beautiful when you cum. I wanna see it again. I wanna fuck you, make you cum on my cock.” 

He ground his hips over yours, his erection pressing against your thigh through his boxer briefs. 

“You on birth control? I promise you I’m clean. Just wanna feel you, wanna see you leaking my cum.” 

You bit your lip to stifle your moan, and nodded your head.

“I’m on the pill. Fuck me, please, Steve. I need it. I need you!”

He kissed you hard as the pair of you got rid of his briefs, the last piece of fabric separating you. Your hand immediately moved to take hold of him; you’d been dreaming of it for so long. You gasped when you felt its girth and glanced down to look, finding it hard to swallow when you took in the sheer size of him.

“Ummm…”

“Don’t worry, it’ll fit. You’re so wet, and I know what I’m doing. It’ll feel so good, trust me.”

“I do trust you, Steve.”

“I’m glad.”

His next kiss was slow and deep as he slotted his cock against your pussy lips, rubbing his length up and down your slit, coating it in your previous release. One of his hands found one of your breasts, massaging it and playing with your nipple as you writhed beneath him. He smiled against you, and abandoned your breast for a moment so he could guide himself to your entrance. The bulbous tip of his cock caught and then started to push into you.

The air was pushed from your lungs and you felt yourself stretched wide, the sensation burning slightly. Your previous, unsatisfactory encounters with boys your own age had in no way prepared you for this. You couldn’t stifle the small noise of discomfort.

“Shh, shh, babydoll. Just relax.”

Steve dropped his head and took your nipple in his mouth, teasing the small nub with his tongue. Your fingers buried in his hair to hold him there and he rocked his hips into you, slowly carving a space for himself inside you. When his thighs finally pressed up against the back of yours, he pulled his head back up.

“There we go. Told ya it would fit.”

He stirred his hips and you felt jolts of pleasure spark deep inside you.

“Steve, please!”

“I got you. I got you, sweet stuff.”

He moved his hips languidly, almost completely leaving the tight embrace of your pussy, before pushing all the way back in, forcing another cry, but this time of pleasure, from you as your fingers dug into his shoulder blades. With each stroke, he increased his pace, and he’d seemed to have found a spot inside you that made you dizzy every time his cock rubbed over it.

“Oh, god!”

“Mmmm, gripping me so good. You like this, babydoll? You like how this older man can make you feel good?”

You whined and nodded, your lower lip pulled between your teeth and your eyes screwed shut.

Neither of you had really noticed the darkness falling outside, until you were both startled by several loud bangs followed by a crackling sound and a burst of colour brightening the room through the windows.

“Seems we have a firework accompaniment,” Steve drawled, as he halted momentarily. You chuckled and then ducked your head against his shoulder as he started moving again. The pleasure inside you was mounting, and you bucked your hips up to meet his thrusts.

“Touch yourself, babydoll. Need to feel you cumming on me.”

He kissed you as you slid your hand down between you, to where you were joined. Your folds were soaked with your arousal, your clit swollen and standing proud. You started to rub over it in quick circles and your whole body felt electrified.

The fireworks continued to sound outside, the different colours invading your and Steve’s private space, casting different shadows over the pair of you. You moaned and squeaked into Steve’s mouth as you neared your peak, and you knew that this orgasm was going to be the most intense you’d ever had.

When it arrived, it did so almost unexpectedly- one moment you were still climbing, and the next you were falling over the edge, almost screaming into Steve’s mouth as you convulsed, as if 200 volts were passing through you.

The display continued to explode loudly outside, lighting up the whole sky in a cacophony of colours and Steve groaned in your ear, his hips faltering as he found his own end inside you.

For a minute or two the pair of you lay there, breathing heavily, limbs wrapped around each other. The fireworks continued, and you watched the coloured sparkles with unfocused eyes.

You’d just slept with Steve. Been fucked to within an inch of your life by your dad’s best friend. And on his birthday, no less. It all seemed so absurd. 

You started to giggle and Steve turned his head to look at you.

“What’s so funny, babydoll?”

You grinned at him, before bursting into song:

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Steve! Happy birthday to you!”

He laughed back, peppering your cheeks, nose and eyelids with sweet kisses.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect. But as it is my birthday, I get to lick the frosting off my cake, don’t I?”

You pushed yourself up, intending to slip your clothes back on; you were starting to feel a bit self conscious.

“Oh, yes, there’s cake in the car, I’d best go -“

Steve pushed you back down, making a tutting sound, before sliding down the bed to lay in between your thighs again.

“I got all I wanna eat, right here, sweetheart. Now lie back and let me enjoy my birthday dessert…”

Tag list: @christywantspizza @jobean12-blog @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky @tuiccim @beelicious-barnes @yarnforbrains @sidepartskinnyjeans @maladaptivexxdaydreaming @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @seitmai

[tupperwaretub]

Blood-Ridden (part 2)

Pairing: Joel Miller x (firefly)male! Reader

Warnings: tiny tiny sexual theme, imagery of abuse, violence and gore, attempted suicide, intrusive thoughts and some throwing up 😉

Summary: Tommy's brother joel is over and after a argument and storming out you meet someone who makes you feel a way you haven't felt in 10 years.

(set 10 years after the first one, you're well acquainted with joel and tess)

(blue and red text is for thoughts reader has sort of like a angel and devil on each shoulder kind of deal)

Part 1: here

Part 3: here

....................................

It's been ten years since you first met Tommy, since he first introduced you to the fireflies and gave you what you considered to be a family and a home. The fireflies were your family, your not-so-little messed up family of wanted terrorists and you felt happy. Sometimes for a second you forget the problems with the world, everything for just a moment is good again.

But its always hard to forget the things you've done. The people you have killed, ten years ago you couldn't even shoot a gun and now... Well now you're some sort of monster, you can't look at yourself in the mirror without hating what you've become but you keep on killing? You think it's become some kind of natural reaction to danger or a threat to, slit their throat, beat them in with a wrench or... This one you liked to call a 'merciless macdonwald' where you do a shit job at slicing them from their abdomen to their cheeks and then... You need to stop thinking about this, it's not doing you any good for your guilty conscience, what's wrong with you, you freak, you monster, you fucking-

Your thoughts were broken by the door to you and Tommy's shared apartment opening, you jolted up to sit on the uncomfortable couch you were laying on- stupid thing all the springs are broken and theres a patch of damp on one of the pillows. You look up and see tommy with his brother, Joel what a dick he pisses you off so much you should just-

"hey y/n, we wake you?" Tommy asks with a soft smile. "No, no. I was awake, just thinking" you reply, returning the smile.

"Me and Joel are gonna hang out here for a while if thats alright?" You know he's only asking because he knows you and Joel don't tend to get on, but he also knows what you're going to say. "Yeah that's fine." You reply and he smiled back as a silent thank you.

You slowly stand up, getting off of the couch letting out a small groan. You've lost count of the amount of times you've been, hit, punched, scratched, cut, shot at... You could go on forever, but the main point is your body is spotted in bruises and cuts constantly. The bruises are only from people trying to protect themselves against you, they dont want to die you freak. No, no, most of the time they shot or swung first dont pin this on me like I'm some mindless sociopath! At this point you are! Am not! Oh yeah you are, sometimes you barely have the courteousy to put them out of the their misery! How is not actually killing them bad now? You like to watch them writhe around and scream for you to help them don't you, you get off on it! Yeah you do! Don't deny it!

"you gonna keep starin' at that wall or are you gonna answer me?" You quickly swung your neck around to see who was talking, it was joel. "What did you say?" You ask trying to be polite and answer whatever he had to say to you. "Jeez, someone's losin' it. Tommy's got rations." He remarks and walks away. Losing it? Losing it? You're not losing it! Hes losing it!

"I'm not losing it asshole. Can't a guy think anymore?" You bark back. "Guys! Don't do this now, lets just eat and be functional for just a second?" Tommy quickly says before Joel could get the chance to say something snarky back at you.

You grab your rations, a little too aggressively but only because Joel still has you riled up and angry, and you go sit on the couch again. The food is some disgusting tasteless jerky, honestly doesn't make you any less hungry and you wonder what it's made out of.

"you ever thought about leaving the fireflies" you overhear Joel asking Tommy. "No, we fight for a good cause. You don't like FEDRA either Joel, we're just using our hate into something productive. Y/n gets it." Tommy replies and you turn around to look at him. "Yeah." You say taking the last bite of the whatever-the-hell jerky you got given, with that you get up and go to the sink to get a drink. FEDRA might be fascist assholes but they do still give you running water..

"y/n only gets it because hes a firefly to. And you really believe killing people is productive?" Joel snaps back and tommy. "It was productive before, dont talk to me like you're innocent Joel." Tommy replies, he sounds like hes losing his mind here. "You're right, but at least i stopped."

"will you shut the fuck up Joel?! I swear to God you can't go a single second without saying something and being an asshole to anyone, it makes me want to-" you shut your mouth knowing your thoughts were about the get the better of you, you can't let that happen, you can't.

"want to what, y/n. Go on, what d'you wanna do to me?" Joel says, you can't tell what hes trying to do - is he trying to get a rise out of you? Make you say something you'll regret? You can't say what you're thinking Tommy will hate you! Tell him.

Tell him every last little thing you've dreamt of doing to him, all the disgusting images in your head of you killing him. Cmon dont be such a pussy-

You quickly storm out of the apartment, you can't, you can't let your thoughts get the best of you. Be stronger than your thoughts, they're in your head, they're harmless, nothing to worry about, they're -

Suddenly you bump into someone causing you both to stumble. "Shit, I'm so sorry! Here let me help you" you say quickly grabbing the persons hand and helping them up. Once they were up you finally got a good look at them, you'd bumped into a really handsome man- he had blonde hair and gorgeous blue/grey eyes you could just drown in. You felt yourself getting embarrassed.

"thankyou, hey it's no problem, things happen." He says with a bright smile, he reminded you of a golden retriever. "Hey uh... What's you're name?" You ask him, sounding quite timid against your own will. "Names Charlie, you?"

"y/n" you reply still admiring him.

------------------------------------------

Two years, you and Charlie had been attached by the hip he asked you to be his boyfriend a month after meeting him. Spending these two years with him is up their in the best times of your life, but the standards for that list dropped significantly at the start of the infection so just having a relationship with someone feels like heaven.

Though, recently he's started becoming distant. So, when Marlene asked the two of you to leave the QZ and search for supplies needed to create some more explosives you were over the moon, hoping it'll bring you two closer together again.

"y/n ans charlie, you two can go together to collect supplies." Marlene said pointing at the two of you. You smiled at Charlie, but he seemed disappointed "you're kidding right? You're putting him with me? Can't i go with Tommy or something?" Charlie pleaded. "What do you mean? Is working with me really that bad?" You ask, offended.

"stop, both of you. You're working together thats final." She ordered, then showing you the route on the map.

An hour later you and Charlie were outside the QZ, it was late and you still had a mile before the first rest stop. You decide asking Charlie about his reaction earlier might be a good idea. "Charlie." You begin.

"what do you want?" He replies with malice. "What the hell is your problem with me? We're supposed to be a couple but you're treating me like shit!"

"you ever thought maybe you're an annoying peice of shit and deserve to be treated like one?" Charlie says without hesitation. You go silent, confused why suddenly he hates your guts. But, you start thinking- he's always pushed limits with how he treats you, you were just blinded with love. You think back to a time where you were showering together, when he suddenly put his hand to your throat at first you laughed and thought he wanted to have a bit of fun. But then he applied some pressure, he just kept putting more and more pressure onto your throat until you couldn't breathe, when he pulled away he just left you in the bathroom with your neck already bruising.

Now you see why Tommy only ever speaks to him when hes been forced to work with him, tommy realised much earlier how he was treating you, he tried to warn you why didnt you do anything? Stupid, stupid, stupid, maybe you wouldn't have fallen in love with him and you wouldn't be in this situation.

You kept your mouth shut until you got the the first rest point, Charlie flopped onto a shitty old couch while you got to work setting up a fire and your sleeping bags.

"why do you have such a problem with me?" You finally ask. "Dunno you just piss me off, stop asking questions." He spits. "What? No! I want to know what i ever did to you to deserve treatment like this!" You start feeling extremely pissed off.

Charlie jolts up and walks towards you "Maybe it's all these God damn fucking questions you keep asking thats making me treat you this way! I don't want to have to be such a dick! You're making me be this way!" He screams at you, some of his spit getting on your face. The argument gets progressively more heated before Charlie seemingly snaps and hits you around the face and pushes you to the ground with a strong grip on your throat. You're gasping for air while clawing at his hands.

Get out of his grip and rip him to fucking shreds, you want to you know you want to. He'll kill you if you dont kill him! Show him that side of you only Tommy's seen!

That was it, you kicked Charlie's crotch with all your might causing him to scream and jolt backwards. You quickly scrambled to your feet and grab a metal pipe laying in a scrap pile next to you. All you see is red as you close in on him. Blood splatters onto your torso and face, soon you were seeing a sight you were familiar with. A person on the floor Infront of you with their face bashed in - unrecognisable. When you came to your senses you started to hyperventilate, what had you done, you killed Charlie.

Your only idea was to grab your gun put it to your chin and fire. Your gun was in your back pocket, you grab it and put it to your chin, your hand shaking, your breathing frantic and tears leaving your eyes. Do it. And you fired.

You were still alive? What the hell was going on? It all came to you as you felt you face and saw your own blood on your hand, and then a suddenly twang of pain on your face. You had missed, you had missed and the bullet just left a wound up your face. Fuck. Idiot how the hell do you miss your own head?!

You pack your stuff up leaving every peice of Charlie's belongings there and quickly went in the direction of the QZ, you thought if you run fast enough it'll still be dark when you get through.

A couple hours later you had made it through and into the QZ, the sun was rising as you entered you and Tommy's apartment. Joel was asleep on the couch, you coming through the door didnt wake him so he had clearly taken something to fall asleep. You woke Tommy though and as you were catching your breath against the door a frightened Tommy stood opposite to you.

"shit, y/n what the fuck happened." He asks with his face covered in worry. He took a few steps towards you. You can't even fucking trust yourself not to kill him, your best friend, you're deranged don't go near him. "Don't! Just don't! Stay there!" Tears started to escape from your eyes again when you couldn't catch your breath. You directed yourself to the sink and immediately washed your hands and face, you kept trying to catch your breath but ended up just vomiting into the sink letting all of the anxiety, regret and worry out. Only then were you able to gasp and catch your breath and you collapsed to the floor leaning against the cabinet behind you and your face in your hands. Don't act like you feel guilty, you enjoyed bashing his skull in.

Tommy approached you. "Can i come closer?" You only nodded and he sat next to you. "Can i ask? I was thinkin' if i know to i can help tell Marlene once you've slept." You sat there in silence for a moment longer. Why did you let him get closer? Who knows what you'll do.

"i killed him" you blurted out. "Who? Charlie?" You nodded. "He, hit me. He put his hands on my neck he tried to - " you quickly took a deep breath not wanting to freak yourself out again. "He try to kill you?" You nodded. Yeah thats right you killed him it's all your fault.

Tommy went silent before asking "are you worried Marlene is going to react bad?" You just nod again, worrying any words that come out are going to be accompanied with tears. "She wont, trust me y/n. She tends to be pretty reasonable and she damn well likes you I'll tell ya that." He reassured you. Hes lying to make you feel better, Marlene is going to hate you just like everyone else."Right." You finally say. "Well that slice on your face is pretty bad, let me see what i can do." Tommy grabbed the box of smuggled in first aid supplies and managed to give you a couple stitches and patch up most of it, though it was awkward with the direction the bullet went in. It meant the wound was deep and bleeding quite a bit and patching it up is awkward and difficult. "Sure is gonna leave a nasty scar." He mentions. "I know." You say simply. "Well you should rest up, wake me if you need anything. Please." "Alright Tommy." And with that you both went to bed, but you barely slept, all you saw was Charlie's bashed in skull.

The next day you explained to Marlene what happened, not letting a single emotion slip infront of her. Tommy was right, she was very reasonable and you appreciated it but she had to send Tommy and a newer firefly out to get the supplies you failed to get meaning you'd be alone in the apartment for at least a day. You'll figure out a way to keep your head occupied. It'll be okay, Marlene took the situation well and Tommy is only away for a day. Or you could try again.. do it right this time.

You wished tommy the best of luck as he set off with the younger man and then made your way back to your apartment flopping onto the couch.

Shit it was quiet. Occupying your head was going to be a bit more difficult than you thought. You got up and got onto your hands and knees pulling up a floor board, under it was smuggled medications and weapons but also some books. You'd managed to smuggle in some random books you must've read over a thousand times. You picked up a book that was written by love craft, you remember finding this one in a vintage bookstore you and tommy set up shop in one time on a supply run, the innards of the book made you chuckle so you let your wants get the best of you and took it. Reading that book for the first time it was so strange it really made you laugh, read that! It'll make you feel much better! Do it. Try again.

You let out a small chuckle as you put the floor board back and sat on the couch opening the book up. Once you'd settled in reading the book the door suddenly opened to show a pretty soggy Joel, you hadn't noticed that it was raining outside. Joel! Now you're not so lonely this will be nice! Make it a murder suicide, you hate him, you could kill him and then yourself!

"wheres Tommy?" He asks out of breath.

"out on a supply run, why? Something happen?" You ask getting worried but he just shakes his head. "No, im just getting old is all." He closes the door and walks over to the countertop to grab the cloth and attempt to dry off his hair. "The hell happened to your face?" He asks setting the cloth down. "Just dont ask, not in the mood." You reply still trying to read your book.

Joel went quiet and the room was filled with an awkward silence.

"y'know, five years ago... I tried to... Well." Joel finally says. You turn around to look at him. "Yeah?" "Yeah. I guess, it was a mix of everything I'd lost and... Not seeing any kind of future for myself in here." You felt a twang of anxiety, not used to the honestly joel was showing you. "Basically i know what you're goin' through" he finishes. "I, uh. Thanks joel." The room went silent again but this time more comfortable than the last. This is nice, he really seems to like you.

"what ya reading?" Joels asks you as he picks up the cloth again to try and dry off his clothes as well as possible. You get up and walk over placing the book on the counter top. "Lovecraft, found it in a vintage bookstore on a supply run with Tommy." You give him a smug look which he chuckles at. "You can borrow it if you want, not sure if you're a big reader, i sure wasn't but man it passes time." You push the book a bit closer to him, he accepts. "Alright, I'll try it out but if its bad im pinning it on you." You both laugh. Wow he's just incredible, he has a lovely smile and a lovely laugh.

For a second you forgot how much you hated him, you kind of felt a bit warm inside when talking to him. It felt almost like butterflies but, you'd feel to guilty to admit that to yourself you just killed your ex boyfriend it would be sick to move on just like that. Then plus, Joel isn't gay, he hated your guts before now so theres no real chance.

"i would've done the same." Joel says. "What do you mean?" You look at him confused. "I overheard a few things when you had that conversation with Tommy. I would've done the same."

You look at the ground, do you really want to have this conversation right now? "You dont have to say anythin' but just so you know, i think you did the right thing, noone who thinks treating a person they're meant to love like that is right deserves that and worse." He puts a hand on your shoulder making you shiver. You look at him, he had his usual cold stare but you could sort of see some kind of care behind his gaze it made you feel warm again and fuzzy.

You couldn't help pull him into an embrace which he reciprocated almost instantly, you can't imagine how touch starved he must be so this hug might've just been what both of you needed...

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A/n: ANOTHER long one sorry bout that, just would like to take my time with this series and make sure its pretty damn detailed. the last thing I'd ever want is for someone to read my work not knowing something is in it and accidentally getting triggered- so also if i have missed any warnings PLEASE tell me 🙇

Also tysm all of you for the support, was fully expecting part 1 to flop y'all got me giggling and kicking my feet fr 🤭 hope you enjoyed.