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krirebr · 2 days

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Luck Be a Lady

Pairing: soft!dark Curtis Everett x female reader

Word Count: ~10.1k

Summary: Desperate for money, you accept a job as a cocktail waitress at an underground casino. You think you know what you're doing, but when you meet Curtis, will you realize you're in over your head?

Warnings: Mob AU, violence, allusions to murder, explicit language, dubcon touching, noncon touching (not Curtis), willfully oblivious reader, SMUT - facefucking, dirty talk, light d/s dynamics, praise kink, other explicit sexual content. This is definitely on the darker end of the soft!dark spectrum, so proceed with caution! All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @thecutestgrotto

Masterlist

A/N: And here it finally is! This is my first real attempt at soft!dark. I hope I did it right! 😂

This was inspired by two things: 1) me going to a rep screening of Goodfellas and spending the entire time wondering why I hadn't done a mob au yet and 2) @bigtreefest saying "enforcer!Curtis Everett and mob boss!Andy Barber" in my general direction. Thanks for the inspo, friend!!

And big thanks as always to @paperweight91 who not only came up with Curtis's name for reader but also offered heaps of encouragement and was a great sounding board. And thanks to @stargazingfangirl18 for helping me figure out how exactly we'd get to the smut. Thanks Siri!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Please come scream at me about this! 😄 As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

You fruitlessly tug down your very short skirt as Holly talks at you. You’re both standing in the corner of the bar’s basement waiting for the night to start in earnest—your first night.

“Lloyd’s not so bad,” she says of your boss, the man who runs this little underground gambling ring. “You’ll have to split your tips with him at the end of the night, but he doesn’t take that much, and you’ll make enough that you won’t really notice. As long as you do that, he’ll mostly keep his hands to himself.”

You nod along, glancing at the mustachioed man conferring with the bouncer at the door. The interview process for this job had boiled down to a thorough once-over that’d made you feel naked in your jeans and t-shirt and a “You’re not too stupid to take a drink order, are you?” and then you had the job.

Holly had vouched for you. Neighbors for almost half a year, she’d come home early one morning last week and witnessed you trying to convince the landlord that you were good for your past-due rent. She’d taken you for coffee and told you she might be able to help if you were good at keeping your head down and mouth shut. And now you were here.

“The customers, on the other hand,” she continues, smacking her gum, “you’ll have to let them touch, at least a little bit. Within reason, you know? But if anything gets out of hand, you can just tell Jake at the door and he’ll take care of it.”

“Within reason?” you ask, voice shaking, just the littlest bit, as the pit that started forming in your stomach when you agreed to this grows a little more.

The look she gives you verges on exasperated. “Well, you want to make money, don’t you?”

Yes, you do. Very much so. It’s a need, not a want. So you nod and try to listen as she keeps giving you the rundown.

Before you’re ready, the first patrons start trickling in and then you’re off to the races. It’s not too bad. No one’s orders are too complicated, mostly just bottles of beer and glasses of straight whiskey. The bartender, Colin, is friendly enough, although you learn that he’s another person you’ll need to split your tips with.

As for the touching, there are hands on your hips, pats to your ass. But you’re rewarded with folded-up bills held up between fingers or tucked into the strap of your top. Or, twice, slid behind the waistband of your skirt. Once you realize that the majority of these bills aren’t ones or fives, but twenties, you care about the touching that comes with them much less. Plus, you’re too busy to really think about it that hard.

You can’t believe how busy it is for a random Tuesday night, multiple games of poker, craps, and who knows what else all going at once. But when you mention that to Holly, she just laughs and shakes her head. “This is nothing,” she says. “On the weekends there’ll be three more of us and another one of Jake. Things get wild.”

You don’t have time to decide whether that makes you nervous or excited before someone is signaling for your attention again. You manage to suppress your grimace when he slides his arm around your waist to tell you what he needs from the bar. You’re rewarded for your troubles by a wad of twenties. You aren’t sure who these men are to tip so freely, but you know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.

It’s an hour or two later that Lloyd calls you over to where he’s speaking to a large, impossibly broad man, dressed in a soft-looking henley under a leather jacket with dark jeans. There’s dark ink all over his hands that disappears up his sleeves and reappears on his neck in intricate lines. He’s got close-cropped hair and a full beard that’s neatly trimmed. His deep blue eyes drill into you right away and you do your best not to shiver.

“Got a new girl tonight, Everett. Still learning the ropes, but she’ll take good care of you, won’t you, Cupcake?”

“Yes, of course,” you say, before Lloyd wanders off to check on one of the poker games.

The man, Everett, lets his eyes rove over you. “Cupcake, huh?” His voice is deep, gritty, but there's something there that's much gentler than you expected.

You give him what you hope is a coy smile. “Sure. If you want.” Lloyd was treating him like he's important. You hope important means deep pockets.

He hits you with a penetrative stare, so strong you almost have to take a step back. “No,” he finally says. “I don't think so. I'll find something more fitting.” Then he turns and starts to walk away, before calling over his shoulder. “I'm gonna get dealt in. Bring me a whiskey once I'm settled.”

You watch him go for just a moment, and then head to the bar, asking for a whiskey.

“This for Everett?” the bartender, Colin, asks. When you nod, he grabs a fancy bottle off the top shelf. “This is all he drinks. And he doesn't pay for it, alright? Don't ever think about giving him a bill.”

You look back at the man in question, seriously looking at the cards he’s just been dealt. Who is he???

You collect his whiskey and move back to him. As you set it down, he turns to you. “How about this?” he asks as he holds up a crisply folded hundred-dollar bill between two fingers. Your eyes widen at the money. All you’ve done is bring him one straight pour. “There’s another one of these in it for you if you make sure I never see the bottom of this glass tonight. Sound good?” And then he folds the bill one more time in his thick fingers, before sliding it under the low-cut neckline of your blouse. Your skin tingles where he brushes against it.

“Yeah, you got it,” you just breathe out, a little shocked you’re able to form words. He gives you a smug smile that you can only describe as shark-like before turning back to his cards, and you understand it as the dismissal that it is.

You move around the room, collecting empties, getting refills, trying to goodnaturedly accept unsolicited touches. The whole time you feel eyes on you, but whenever you glance Everett’s way, he’s focused on his poker game.

Eventually, a down moment finds you catching your breath against the wall. The moment Holly sees you standing still, she’s quickly making her way to you. “You need to be more careful around Curtis,” she hisses, lowly.

You look at her, confused. “Curtis?” Jake’s at the door. Colin’s behind the bar. You don’t know a Curtis.

“Curtis Everett!” You glance at the man at the poker table. He’s running a poker chip across his knuckles mindlessly. Then he looks up and you briefly make eye contact before you quickly look away. Holly is staring at you and she looks worried. But the name still doesn’t mean anything to you, so you shake your head and shrug. She groans as quietly as she can. “He’s Barber’s top enforcer!”

This whole conversation feels so out of the blue that it takes you a minute to catch up. Barber. Andrew Barber. The most feared mob boss in the city. Probably the state. Maybe even more. Ruthless and exacting was how the papers described him. He’d been the subject of multiple stings and taskforces and whathaveyou but nothing ever stuck. “He works for Andrew Barber?” you ask, shocked and a little appalled.

Holly stares at you in a way that you can only describe as dumbfounded. It takes her a few moments to find her words, then, “Bitch, you work for Andrew Barber!”

Everything stops. “What?” you gasp.

“Oh my god,” Holly groans. “This was such a mistake. It’s an underground card game in his city! Who did you think was running things?”

“I– I don’t know,” you stutter, stupidly. The god’s honest truth is that you’d never really stopped to think about it. You’d been staring down an eviction, struggling to afford groceries. Unable to make ends meet no matter what you did. When Holly told you about this job, all you saw were dollar signs. You didn't think about anything further. Of course, you’d known these games were illegal, but it seemed so minor in the grand scheme of things. You hadn’t connected it to anything bigger because you just hadn’t wanted to.

But now– Now that you know the truth, what are you going to do? You know what you should do. You should walk out the door right now. You should find some other legitimate way to pay your bills. It’ll be safer. It’ll be better. It’ll be so much harder.

As you bite your lip, trying to process all of this information, Holly continues. “Listen,” she says, “still get him drinks, be friendly, whatever you need to do. But keep your distance however you can. Don't encourage him. He's just– He's really dangerous. They don't call him Barber’s attack dog for nothing, ok?”

“Yeah,” you say. You start to look back in Curtis’s direction but stop yourself. You think about the hundred you already have and the one promised to you at the end of the night. You think of how empty your pantry is. But then you see the genuine fear in Holly's eyes. You let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. I got it. Thanks.”

“He doesn't even come in here that often. I'm surprised to see him tonight, so I'm sure it’ll be fine,” she says, but you can tell she’s nervous.

You nod, absently, finally letting yourself glance over at him. His drink is getting close to the bottom. “Shit,” you mumble. “I gotta get him his refill.”

“Do you want me to do it?” Holly asks.

You should let her do it. You absolutely should. But you just can’t give up on that tip. You shake your head. “No, I’ll be fine. But thanks.”

You head back to the bar and grab Curtis’s top-shelf whiskey of choice from Colin, then make your way to his table. You set it down next to him, hoping to move away without him even noticing, he’s so engrossed in the game. But as you take a step back, his hand shoots out to grab your wrist. He holds it tightly until you meet his eyes. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and you can’t help the sharp intake of breath or the way you feel his words in your knees. He strokes his thumb down the inside of your wrist, then abruptly lets go, pushing his chips to the middle of the table. You step away, gathering yourself as subtly as you can, and get back to work.

The rest of the night goes quickly. The crowd gets a little rowdier as they drink more, but you find that it’s nothing you can’t handle. The reality of who these people are, what they’re connected to, never leaves your mind. But really, they’re not so bad. None of this feels so bad at all. And soon, people start heading out. You’re beginning to clean up, when a recognizable voice rings out, “Bambi!” You turn and lock eyes with Curtis. He crooks two fingers at you and you quickly make your way over to him.

“Bambi?” you ask.

He grins at you and it feels more than a little predatory. You’ll never admit how much you like it. You try to keep Holly’s warning at the forefront of your mind. “Wide eyes and just getting your legs under you,” he says. You instinctively duck your head at that, which earns a dark chuckle. “Here,” he continues, as he pulls a genuine, fat money clip out of his back pocket. You’ve never seen something like it in real life before. He peels off two bills and holds them out to you. “This is what good girls get,” he says, a low rumble in his voice.

You swallow as you take them from him. Two hundred dollars. Twice what you were expecting. “Thank you,” you say quietly.

He shakes his head. “You earned it.” Then, after one last long look at you, he turns around and leaves.

You stand and stare after him. You don’t doubt anything Holly said, but three hundred dollars, just for bringing him drinks. He doesn’t seem that bad, not really. A little intense maybe, but there’s some sort of interest there, and it can’t be that bad to encourage it, just a little if it earns you these sorts of tips, can it??

Any hesitance you have about this entire endeavor completely disappears as you count your money at the end of the night.

Your first week flies by. You're starting to get the hang of the job. You get along with your coworkers. You get to know the regulars. You like it. Even Lloyd isn’t so bad as long as you give him his cut at the end of every night.

And you’re making so much money.

In your downtime, you pay your landlord what you owe him. You go grocery shopping without scouring for coupons first or calculating exactly what you can afford beforehand. You make a Pinterest board of what you want your apartment to look like now that you might actually be able to buy things to fill it. For the very first time, you’re thinking about things you actually want, not just desperately trying to figure out how you’ll pay your bills. You’ve never felt this calm, this relaxed, this free before. It’s an incredible feeling.

And Curtis. Despite Holly’s reassurances that you wouldn’t see him much, he seems to be there whenever you are, trying to capitalize on his winning streak at the poker tables, you assume. His tips are still insanely generous. You don’t think he carries anything less than hundred dollar bills.

And there’s just something about him. The way he looks at you. The way he touches you. It’s not like the other men here. His touch is like fire, warming from the inside. There’ve been times when his hand on your hip has almost made your knees buckle. That doesn’t happen with anyone else here.

But you’re being smart and you’re being safe. You are. You’re going to set a savings goal, you think. And once you hit that number, you’ll be out of here, onto something more legitimate. And until then, you’ll just keep your head down and mouth shut, like Holly said. You haven’t even really seen anything. It’s a good plan. It’ll be fine.

She’s right that the weekends are wilder. Even with three additional girls working the room, you’re kept running. You do your best to keep an eye on Curtis’s drinks, but it’s much harder than on weeknights. And you aren’t really able to pause when you drop them off. It’s one of these times, as you’re pulling away from the table as soon as you’ve set his glass down, that you’re stopped short by his hand on you. He pulls you back in by the wrist and says, “They’re just running you ragged tonight, huh, Bambi?”

You smile and shrug. “It’s busy.”

He holds out a bill and you try not to smile even wider as he slips it into the waistband of your skirt. “For all your hard work.”

You bat your lashes a little. “You spoil me.”

“I like spoiling you,” he says, lowly.

“You’re too sweet,” you say softly. Then, pulling your arm away with a wink, you add, “Gotta run,” and you’re onto the next table.

You’re getting good at this, figuring out what level of harmless flirting is just enough to keep the money flowing. And you’re having fun. You’d never expected that.

Holly and two of the other girls, Jane and Kristi, are congregated at the end of the bar, waiting for drinks, when you join them. They’re all watching you warily. “So, uh,” Jane starts quietly, “you seem to be getting pretty cozy with Curtis.”

Before you can respond, Holly scoffs behind her. “I’ve tried to warn her but she won’t fucking listen.”

You roll your eyes. You’re tired of hearing this. “I seriously don’t get what the big deal is. He’s nice and he tips well. It’s harmless!”

Kristi just gapes at you. “He’s nice?!”

Holly slams the drinks she was waiting for onto her tray. “Whatever,” she grumbles. “It’s her fucking funeral.”

You shake your head as you watch her go. It’s fine. You can take care of yourself.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. You don’t get much of a chance to talk to Curtis, but you feel his eyes on you before he disappears a little before closing.

At the end of the night, once you’ve helped clean up, you cash out with Colin and Jake and then go to find Lloyd in his office. You think it’s kind of ridiculous that you’re basically paying him to work there, but it is what it is. And Holly was right, you’re making so much that you barely even notice.

Lloyd is sitting at his desk, looking a little more disheveled than you’re used to. He startles at your approach, which is also new.

“Oh, hey,” he says, with slightly rounded eyes. “What can I do for you?”

You look at him, a little confused. “Just here with your cut,” you say as you hold out his money.

His hands immediately fly up to his chest, palms out. “No, no,” he says. “You made that fair and square. You just– you keep what you make from now on, Cupcake. Sound good?”

You swallow and nod, preparing yourself for whatever other price you’ll have to pay for keeping your job, mentally calculating what you’re willing to do. But Lloyd doesn’t do anything, doesn’t make any move to get closer to you. Just stays there at his desk, turning back to his work. “You have a good night,” he says, clearly dismissing you.

You leave confused, but richer, telling yourself not to question it too hard.

Things go so smoothly for a few weeks that you’re a little shocked when the bubble bursts.

It’s a relatively quiet weeknight. There are a few games going, but nothing compared to the weekend. The pace of the night feels leisurely. It’s nice.

It’s maybe the first night you haven’t seen Curtis there. It feels weird. He’s become such a part of this place for you. A fixture, like the bar or the carpet. Just one of the elements that make it what it is. But it’s fine. Of course, he doesn’t come every night. He probably has a whole life outside of this. He must’ve gotten bored of playing cards. Oh well. It was nice while it lasted.

You’re passing the time talking to one of the regulars at the bar, Vinny. He’s in his fifties, you think, with gray hair and laugh lines. He’d gone bust at the poker table (or maybe it was craps tonight) earlier and then had moved to the bar to drink away his sorrows and bad luck. That was how his nights tended to go.

He’s sitting on a barstool, his arm around your waist where you stand next to him. He’s a little close for comfort, but he’s always just been a friendly guy, so you’re alright. Which is why you’re so surprised when, in the middle of a story about the good old days of the Copa Cabana, his other hand suddenly finds its way between your thighs. You freeze. For just a second. Then you force out a laugh and try to push his hand away. “Bad boy,” you try to tease, your voice shaking. His hand will not move. What is happening? “Come on, let’s keep our hands to ourselves.”

Instead of doing what you’ve asked, his thumb briefly brushes the inside of your leg and then his whole hand begins moving higher. You stop breathing. You push again but he won’t budge.

“You’re such a pretty doll, aren’tcha?” he says.

Tears start to gather in your eyes. You look around wildly to see if anyone’s noticing what’s happening. Colin’s busy making drinks. Jake and Lloyd are talking by the door. Everyone else is engrossed in their own business. “Vinnie, stop, please,” you whisper. You don’t know why you can’t get your voice to work, can’t get your body to move.

“Come on,” he cajoles, “I’m being nice, aren’t I?”

Then his thumb brushes against your panties and your entire body jolts into action. You wrench your leg out of his grasp and take several steps away from him. Your whole body is shaking now. “I gotta–” you start, trying to keep your tone casual and failing miserably. “I gotta get back to work, Vinny.” Then you grab your tray off the bartop and walk away as fast as you can.

You don’t really have a destination in mind. You pick up a few empties as you wander between tables. You can feel his eyes on you, following you. You try to take a deep breath, calm yourself down. It isn’t very helpful. You look up to see Jake by himself now. You make your way over to him, Holly’s words on your first night in your ears. That was out of hand, wasn’t it?

He looks up as you approach. His big golden retriever smile on his face. “Hey, what’s up?” Then he actually takes you in and his smile drops. “What happened?”

“Um, Vinny, he, uh–” You feel a few tears fall down your cheeks and you just shake your head.

Jake’s face darkens. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, uh, he– he just–” You shake your head again. “No, he didn’t hurt me.”

Jake doesn’t say anything for a moment, just looks at you. There’s something about the way he does it that makes you think he understands everything you just can’t say. He nods once. “Alright. I’ll take care of it. You go take your time in the back. Do what you need to do. He’ll be gone by the time you’re done.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Okay, thank you,” you say so quietly. Then you get yourself to the back room as quickly as you can.

It’s really more of a hallway than a room, small and narrow. All of the storage space for the building is in the legitimate bar upstairs. But there’s enough room for you to crouch down, your knees pulled up tight to your chin. You bury your face in your thighs and let the tears you’ve been holding in finally fall. You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re safe. You’re fine.

You don’t know how long you’ve spent trying to calm yourself down when a large shadow suddenly looms over you. It takes you a moment to gather your strength to find out who it is. You hope it’s Jake telling you Vinny’s gone. You’re afraid it might be Lloyd, here to tell you to get back to work. There’s a slowly building terror that it might be Vinny himself.

After a deep breath, you look up to find Curtis staring down at you, concern on his face and fiery anger in his eyes. “What happened?” he growls.

You shake your head and turn away. He crouches down in front of you. “Are you alright?”

A humorless, uncontrolled laugh escapes you. Once you finally stop, you ignore his question and ask your own, “Why are you here?”

It takes him a very long time to answer. He just looks at you seriously for several moments. Then, finally, “Jake called me.” While you try to figure out why on earth Jake would do that, he continues, “I'm sorry I wasn’t already here.”

“Why?” you blurt out without thinking.

He looks away without saying anything. You both just sit in the silence for a few moments. Then, you try to change tactics. “Where were you?” you ask out of morbid curiosity. You can't imagine what his life is like outside of here.

“Working,” he says curtly. He plays with a ring on his middle finger and the movement draws your eyes to his hands, specifically his knuckles. They're scraped and caked with dried blood.

You swallow and you catch how his eyes track the movement. His eyes are always on you. He catches everything.

“Someone touched you?”

“Lots of people touch me,” you say, flatly. “It's part of the job. You touch me.”

His eyes narrow at that. “But this was different.” It isn’t a question.

You look down at your hands in your lap and don't say anything.

“Tell me who it was.”

“No,” you say instinctively, something about the moment feeling incredibly dangerous.

He huffs in frustration. “Are you trying to protect him?”

“No!” you say, sharply. “I’m protecting myself.”

“You don’t have to do that. Not from me. Not ever.”

You don’t know how to tell him that every atom in you knows that that isn’t true. You can’t explain it, and it wasn’t until the moment he joined you in this little closet, but you’d swear that he’s a danger to you. You just can't articulate how, but you feel it in your bones. And still, here you stay.

At your silence, he grits out, “If you don’t tell me who it was, Jake will.”

Jake probably already has, that’s what you’ve figured. “Great,” you say. “Then you don’t need me to say it.”

“Bambi,” he lets out in an exasperated growl. “I'm trying to help you.”

You just look at him and then figure you may as well ask the main question that's on your mind. “Why did Jake call you?”

He ignores you and stands up. “Come on,” he says and extends his hand, “I'm taking you home.”

You just blink up at him. “My shift isn't over.”

He shakes his hand at you impatiently. “It is now. Come on.”

You shake your head. “Curtis, this is my job. I can't just– Lloyd will–”

“I'll take care of Lloyd. Let’s go.”

You think about going home. About sitting alone in your small apartment. At least here you'll have something to do, things to focus on, to keep you busy. At home, there'll be nothing to think about other than that hand between your legs and– “No,” you say as firmly as you can manage. “I'm staying here. I'm finishing the night.”

His jaw ticks but he doesn’t say anything, just tries to stare you down. You stare right back. You will not concede this.

Finally, he exhales through his nostrils, then growls out an unhappy “Fine. But I'll–” He's interrupted by his phone ringing in his pocket. He takes it out and glances at the caller ID and sighs. “I have to take this.” He steps away as much as he can in the tiny area and answers with a curt “Everett.” There's a slight pause. “Yeah, I took care of it.” Another pause that has him glancing at you. “No, something else came up.”

You don't wait to hear the rest of the conversation. You take the opportunity to go back to the main room and get back to work.

You don't see Curtis again that night. You don't spare much thought to where he might've gone. You're too focused on getting through the remainder of your shift. When it's done, Jake insists on seeing you home. You don't ask why. You already know who's behind it.

The next few days are fine. You try to put what happened behind you, doing your best to ignore it. But that becomes impossible when three days after the incident you watch Vinny walk in. You can’t help the little burst of panic you feel as you warily watch him sit down at his usual table and get dealt in.

As subtly as you can, you make your way over to Jake. You don’t even say anything before he’s looking at you, chagrined. “I know,” he says. “I’m sorry, but I had to let him in. I promise it’s all going to be taken care of. It’s just– You can ignore him tonight, ok? Just trust me. You don’t need to worry about him. I promise.”

“Ok,” you say reluctantly, trying to resist looking back at Vinny. “I just– I didn’t think I’d have to see him again.”

“I really think that after tonight you won’t,” he says sincerely.

You don’t really understand what that means, but you nod anyway. “Ok,” you say. “I, uh, I should get back to work then.”

He just nods after you, looking a little concerned and a little sad. But the room is filling up, so you don’t have time to delve into it.

Sometime later, as you’re taking a brief moment to idle by the bar, a strange hush descends over the room. You’re facing away from the door, away from the rest of the room, but you see Colin take in whatever it is that’s caused this. His face pales and he lets out a quiet, urgent, “Shit.”

You turn around to see what on earth could be going on and you immediately freeze. Curtis is here. But that’s not what’s garnering all of this attention. Well, not all. Because he’s not alone, there’s a man with him. A little shorter, not quite as broad. But you’d be able to feel the power radiating off of him, even if you didn’t recognize him. Soft dark hair, thick beard, an immaculately tailored suit. You’ve seen him in the papers, on the news, but in real life, he’s even more intimidating. Andrew Barber.

Barber leans in close to say something to Curtis, who nods, eyes scanning the room until they land on you. Your breath catches, but luckily Colin calls your name behind you and you have an excuse to turn around. He places two glasses of dark liquor on the bar. “Everett,” he says, gesturing to one, then “Barber,” while waving his hand over the other. “Got it?” You nod and place them on your tray. They’re identical to your eyes except for the fact that Barber's has a muddled black cherry at the bottom of the glass.

You carefully bring them over, trying to force yourself to breathe. Curtis intercepts you and grabs the drinks when you're a few steps away. “Thank you, Bambi,” he says, lowly.

Barber perks up. “This is Bambi? Really?” He extends a hand and you have no choice but to take it. “Andy Barber,” he says with a disarming smile. “It's a pleasure to meet you finally.”

His handshake is firm, demanding. He is terrifying in his friendliness. And he knows who you are. Has known, for who knows how long. You glance at Curtis, but he's just calmly drinking his whiskey. You don't know what to say, what are you supposed to say?? So after too long a pause, you practically whisper, “Thank you, Mr. Barber.”

He chuckles lightly as he takes back his hand. To Curtis, he says, “You're right, Bambi does suit her.” Then he turns back to you and adds, “Andy, please.”

“O– Okay, Andy,” you say, with what you desperately hope is a benign smile. You look over at Curtis, you’re not entirely sure why, but out of these two dangerous options, he, at least, is familiar. “I should get back to work.”

Curtis is staring at you, but it’s Andy who answers. “Mmm, and we have a game to join, don’t we?” Curtis nods but still doesn’t break his gaze. Andy smirks, “No rest for the wicked.”

You have no idea what to do with that sentiment, so you take the opportunity and get out of there. You walk through the tables, checking to see if anyone needs anything, but the mob boss’s physical presence seems to have ground all action to a halt. The room is collectively holding its breath.

You go back to the bar for want of anything else to do. Colin is standing ramrod straight, coiled in case he needs to spring into action. Lloyd is sitting down at the end of the bar, drumming his fingers, eyes moving all around the room. You settle next to Holly, who looks just as scared as she did that first night when she was trying to warn you off of Curtis. “Is this,” you start to ask, your voice shaking. “Is this normal? Does he come here a lot?”

“No, never” she shakes her head. “Why would he come here? He has real clubs and restaurants. He doesn’t need to hang out in a shit hole like this.” She shakes her head again. “He’d only come here for a reason.”

You turn your head back to the room and find that Andy and Curtis have settled at Vinny’s table, joining his game across from him. Your heart lands in your throat. That can’t– No. You’re just some cocktail waitress. Even with Curtis’s obvious interest in you, you aren’t important enough to bring the most powerful man in the city here. You’re nothing. He must have other reasons.

The room is quiet enough to hear a pin drop as everyone waits for something to happen, which is why when Andy does start speaking, you don’t have to strain your ears to pick up every word.

He looks at his cards carefully, then over at Vinny. “You know, Vinny, you’re a hard man to track down.” His voice is so calm, it sends a chill up your spine. “You don’t go home, we can’t find you at work. I was starting to get worried.” He runs a few chips through his fingers before tossing them into the center of the felt. “That’s why, when I heard you were showing up here, I sent my best man to investigate,” he nods towards Curtis, “just to make sure you were ok.”

You don’t have a great view of Vinny from where you’re standing, but you can see how stiff he is, how silent. But he still calls when it’s his turn.

“You can imagine my relief when I found out you were alright. Except,” he raises again, a few more chips into the pot, “you’re losing a lot of money, aren’t you? Now, this upsets me. Not because you’re losing your own money. But because it’s mine, isn’t it?”

Vinny finally tries to pipe up. “Andy, hold on. I can ex–”

“You owe me $150,000, Vinny. With interest, that total’s climbing every day. And yet, you sit here and you just keep losing, don’t you? At my own game. What would you do if you won, huh? Would you really try paying me back with my own money? I thought maybe you’d at least have the smarts to cross the border and try this at one of Roger’s casinos. Huh? Paying me back with my enemy’s money, at least that I could respect. But no, it’s only me you think is stupid enough to fall for your bullshit. So now I’m here to give you the chance to fucking do it to my face.” With that, he violently pushes all of his chips into the center of the table.

Everyone else has folded. It’s just Barber and Vinny now. You’re not sure Curtis even actually played. He’s just staring Vinny down, although occasionally his eyes will flick up and meet yours. You hate feeling like you’re a part of this, but you don’t know what else to do besides watch it play out.

Vinny is just spluttering, while Andy calmly looks on. It’s all the expected, cliche stuff you’ve seen in gangster movies. He’s got the money, he swears. He just needs a little more time. Andy has to know he’s good for it! You want to roll your eyes right along with Andy.

“Call, Vinny,” Andy cuts him off, sternly. “That’s $150,000 I just put in the pot. Call. And if you win, we’re even. Your debt’s erased. But if you lose, well then that’s $300,000 you’ll owe me. And you know I won’t be able to tolerate that. So call. And let’s find out where we stand.”

You can’t see what Vinny’s doing, but you can imagine the way his fingers must be hovering over his chips, his eyes moving down to his cards to check, one more time, if they’re as good or bad as he remembers. You know there’s no way out for him either way. He’ll have to call. He’s just delaying the inevitable.

You feel like you can't breathe as you wait for him to just finally do it, but Andy cuts in again. “The thing I can't understand, Vinny, is why you kept coming here after Curtis showed up. Either you're very stupid or really fucking greedy.” He looks at Vinny carefully. “Maybe a little of both. I hear you've been touching something that doesn't belong to you.”

You gasp. No one notices, but you do. He can't be talking about you. He can't. He can't.

Vinny seems even more confused than you. “What are you talking about? I haven't touched anything!”

Andy continues to ignore him. “So you're stupid and greedy. That's why you aren't afraid of him like you should be. They call him my attack dog, did you know? Have you heard that? Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe you think he’s some puppy that follows me around. You’d be stupid to underestimate him, underestimate me. But maybe you only do that because you've never seen my dog off his leash.”

Curtis springs into action, lunging across the table to grab Vinny by the collar, and then slams his head into the felt. Before there’s even time to react, he’s stood and he's picking Vinny back up and hurling him onto the floor. Curtis comes around the table to stalk after him and the look on his face has you gasping for breath. You've never seen Curtis like this. There's a glint in his eye that might be the scariest thing you've ever seen. Who is this man? What is he capable of?

Vinny is dazedly trying to crawl away, but Curtis catches him easily. He grabs Vinny’s collar and hauls him back up, delivering two punches to his face in quick succession. The sound it makes. There's no other sound in the whole room. No one's saying anything, no one's doing anything. Everyone's just watching, hypnotized. You turn away, your stomach churning. Your eyes catch on Andy, sitting back in his chair, placidly drinking the whiskey you brought him, completely relaxed, like he's watching anything else. You can't look at him either.

The room is completely silent except for the crunching of bones, Vinny’s whimpers, and Curtis’s grunts. You look up again to be startled by eye contact with Curtis. His eyes are wild, unhinged. Feral. But there's something else in it, like all of this is for you. That all of you are there, everything is happening, because Vinny dared to touch you. It takes your breath away. It’s mesmerizing.

Andy finally stands and strides over to where Curtis is holding Vinny up in the middle of the room. He looks down at Vinny, then spits in his face. “I'm tired of trying to draw blood from a stone,” he says. Then he turns to Curtis and finishes, “Get rid of him.”

Curtis gives you one last long look, his face unreadable. You feel it in your knees. Then he drags Vinny out, leaving a bloody trail behind him.

The moment they're gone, it's like the entire room can breathe again. “Lloyd,” Andy calls out. “How ‘bout a round for everyone? On me.”

Lloyd nods to Colin who hurriedly starts pouring drinks. And you, so grateful for something to do, instead of just standing there, shaking, start loading the glasses on your tray.

As you begin to pass them out, Andy of all people, pulls you aside. “Bambi,” he says quietly, “I hope you know now, we take care of our own.”

You gaze at him, shocked. It feels like a comfort and a threat. But why? It's not so much the implication that this all had something to do with you, but you can't for the life of you imagine what you've done to get yourself to a place where Andy Barber might consider you his, however distantly. It can't just be that you work here. You can't picture him doing something similar for Holly or Colin. Once again, this all feels so incredibly dangerous.

While you're struggling to come up with anything to say to that, he grabs a drink off your tray and downs it quickly. Then, with a wink, he turns and leaves. You’re left staring after him until someone calls after you and you're scrambling to pass out drinks again.

The night ends quickly. No one seems eager to stay and drink and play after everything that's happened. Not when there's still blood on the floor.

You do what you can to help clean up, but when you stare at the stain helplessly, Lloyd tells you not to worry about it. He's got a guy.

Colin walks out with you so you aren’t in the parking lot alone. You're grateful. You're still so shaken. As you approach your car, your beater that you still don’t quite have the money to replace, you see someone leaning against it. You stop short, looking to Colin for help, but he just keeps walking to his own car, his head down. That’s when you know it’s Curtis.

You take a deep breath and then force yourself to keep walking towards him. You can't begin to parse how you feel to see him now. Your keys are ready in your hand like you might just get in and drive off without speaking to him. You know you won’t.

When you reach him, his voice is rough as he asks, “Are you ok?” He’s cleaned up. There’s no more blood on his hands, his clothes have been straightened.

You open your mouth to answer, even though you have no idea, so instead what comes out is “Did you kill him?”

“Did you want me to?” is his immediate reply.

It stops you in your tracks as all sorts of feelings come bubbling up, ones you can not, will not examine. This is about his propensity for violence, how terrifying he became, not– No. “Did you?” you insist.

He looks at you carefully then shakes his head. “I don't think you actually want me to answer that.”

“But you've killed before?” You can't stop yourself from pressing, from pushing. You don’t know why.

He just sort of smiles, gently almost, in a way that is deeply unsettling. “You need to stop asking questions you aren’t ready for me to answer, Bambi.” And it’s the way he says the nickname, like you really are that babe in the woods, just born with no knowledge of the world around you, that has your hackles rising.

“Andy called you his dog,” you say, like he should be offended.

To your surprise, he laughs, his head thrown back. Then he takes a step closer to you, and you take the opportunity to sneak in behind him, get to your car. You realize your mistake immediately when he turns back around and cages you in, your back pressed against the driver’s side door. “Everyone calls me his dog. Because he’s the civilized man in the designer suit, and I’m the animal just begging for a reason to slip my leash.”

Your heart pounds wildly in your chest. You should get into your car. You should drive away as fast as you can. You should never come back. But you don’t. “You did it for him,” you say, mustering all the strength into your voice that you can. “You didn’t do it for me.”

He leans over you, the space between you shrinking rapidly. “Yeah, he asked me to do it,” he nods. “But if he hadn’t, I still would have done it. For you.”

You try to shake your head, to tell him that that can’t be true, even as a wild, loud part of you starts to rise up and claw out of your chest. You try to tamp it down, deny it, but before you can, Curtis is leaning in further, his whole body pressing against you, and then he covers your lips with his.

There’s a heat that comes up out of him that fills you, the instant his skin touches yours. His hands are on you, your neck, your hip. You can’t keep track, can only say that his hands are there, everywhere, that his body touches all of yours, that his lips and his tongue are demanding, unrelenting. You are burning up from the inside.

Too soon, but ages later, he pulls away. His eyes are on fire as he looks at you. Then he tears his gaze away, and hits the roof of your decrepit car twice, looking at it disdainfully. “You get home safe,” he says, then steps back to allow you the space you need to get into your car.

You do what he wants you to do. You get in your car, sit in the driver’s seat, and then stare blankly out the windshield. You’ve never felt so out of control in your life. How did this happen? You were flirting for tips, that was all! You encouraged it for money, that was it, and now– You press your thighs together, trying not to pant. You will not be unmoored.

A slight movement in your periphery makes you notice that Curtis is still standing just to the side of your car, watching you. You turn your keys in the ignition and shift into drive.

It doesn’t mean anything it doesn’t mean anything it doesn’t mean anything, you chant to yourself all the way home.

It’s your next shift back, and everything seems to have changed. You don’t understand it. You keep doing laps of the room, keep sidling up to regulars you were so friendly with just a few nights ago, but now, they won’t even look at you, let alone touch you. No one’s ordering anything.

Or at least, they aren’t ordering from you.

Holly has been running around nonstop all night, basically having to take care of the entire room by herself. You watch man after man after man slip her little bundles of money.

You want to scream. What the fuck happened? What did you do? What are you going to do?

You go to stand by the bar to wait for something you can do. Colin gives you a brief nod of acknowledgment but that’s it. He’s been cold, too. No. Not cold, distant. You don’t understand what’s changed.

You take a deep breath. It’s one weird night. Things will be better tomorrow.

Things don’t get better. The next night is the same. You’re starting to panic. This job was supposed to be your lifeline. Without it, without the money you were making, you’re not sure how you’ll survive.

Curtis comes in after a couple of hours of nothing. You could cry you’re so happy to see him. But terrified too. If he gives you the cold shoulder, this job really is over. But you have no idea how he’s going to act, not after what happened last time. You’re not sure how you’re going to act either. You can still feel his lips on yours.

You bring him his whiskey immediately and he greets you with an arm around your waist, pulling you in. “Hey Bambi,” he says quietly. Then he gets a good look at you. “What’s wrong?”

You look at him carefully, not sure what to confide. You aren’t even sure what the problem is. You shake your head. “Not my best night,” you say with a tired smile. “But I’m fine.”

He stares at you for a moment, then stands up. “Come on,” he says, grabbing your hand and leading you to the little back room. You feel eyes on the two of you the whole way there.

Once he’s closed the door behind you both, he asks again, “What’s wrong?”

You sigh. “The last two nights have been weird here. I don’t– I don’t know. I’m just worried. I don’t know what happened but I’m not making any tips. No one’s treating me like they used to.”

“Mmm,” Curtis hums thoughtfully. “I think,” he says as he takes two steps closer to you, which in this small space is significant, “everyone else here has figured it out.”

It’s suddenly a little hard to breathe with him standing over you like this. His presence, his attention is always so much. “Figured what out?” you ask, confused.

“That I have lost my patience for watching other men touch you.”

It hits you like a freight train. “What?” It comes out in a whisper.

“I’ve let this go on for too long,” he says, his voice is calm, casual. “I don’t want you working here anymore. This is done.”

“I– What? Curtis. What?! I have to work! I have to pay my bills! I don’t understand. I don’t–”

He takes one last step forward. You feel the heat coming off of him. “Shh,” he soothes, cradling your cheek in his hand. “It’ll be alright. I’ll take care of you. I take care of what’s mine.”

You pull your face away, even as the urge to nuzzle into him is so strong. You feel like you’ve missed something, a thousand things. You feel too many steps behind. “Curtis, I’m not– I’m not yours.”

Something comes into his eyes and you’re reminded of him standing over Vinny, covered in blood. His hand travels down from your cheek. He strokes your throat once, and then his hand closes around it. “Look me in the eye,” he growls, “and say that again.”

His hand is firm, snug, but it doesn’t tighten. But you can imagine so easily how it might. You look him in the eye. You open your mouth, ready to say it again. But then– then you see it. In the way he looks at you, the way he’s always looked at you. You feel it in his grip on you, now. You can’t deny it anymore.

Curtis shoves you into his bedroom. You’re panting already. You need his hands on you, right now. You don’t have to ask for it. He gets you to the center of the room and yanks down your skirt, tearing it in the process. You step out of it and take your blouse off, throwing it on top of your skirt. Curtis’s eyes are cataloging your body, the swell of your breasts spilling out of your bra, your soft tummy, thick thighs. His gaze, as always, takes your breath away.

You reach out for Curtis’s shirt, but he grabs your hands. “I want you on your knees,” he growls and you immediately kneel for him. He throws off his shirt, revealing the expanse of his chest, the muted blacks and grays of his tattoos. You’re desperate to run your hands over them, trace the art, but instead, they just twitch at your side. He'll tell you what you're allowed to do.

He begins unbuttoning his jeans and your mouth drops open. He chuckles darkly. “Perfect little slut.” He takes his phone out of his back pocket and aims it at you, taking a picture as you gaze up at him under your lashes, your mouth wide open. “I've been dreaming of getting you on your knees for me.” He puts his phone on his dresser, then continues taking off his pants. “You ready to choke on my cock, baby?”

“Please,” you whine. You're practically salivating now. His bare thighs are as thick as tree trunks, the muscles corded. His abs ripple as he moves. His shoulders, his back. You want.

He frees his cock and rolls his black boxer briefs down his legs, stepping out of them. It's long and thick, just like the rest of him. Your breath catches. You don't think you've ever taken something that big before.

He takes a few steps so he's completely in your space, his cock bobbing right in front of your face. He takes it in one hand, the other firmly on the back of your head and slowly feeds the tip into your mouth. You taste his musk on your tongue. As he rocks into your mouth, going a little further each time, your hands come up to grasp his thighs. On his next thrust in, you run your tongue along the underside of his dick. His movements stutter just a little and then he looks down at you, a smirk overtaking his face. It's just a touch mean, in a way that has you soaking your panties. “You ready?” he asks, his voice rough. And then without waiting for the answer, he thrusts in all the way, making you take him deep in your throat.

You flail, slapping his thigh as you try to swallow around him, breathing frantically through your nose. After holding you there for a moment, he sets a brutal but steady pace. It takes you a moment, but you find your rhythm, your panic subsiding. Once you feel steady, you lift one hand from his thighs and bring it up to cradle his balls. “Fuck, Bambi,” he grinds out. “You're gonna– I– fuck!” His hand moves from the back of your head down to the back of your neck, which he grips firmly, pulling you off his cock. As you cough and splutter on the floor, he growls, “The first time you make me come is gonna be inside that perfect cunt.”

He helps you stand on wobbly legs, then shoves his hand between your legs, cupping your pussy over your panties. “Shit, fucking soaked just from deepthroating me?”

You let out a needy little whine, trying to push further into his hand, but he withdraws it, instead settling on your hip. “Well,” he grins, “if they’re ruined anyway…” then uses that hand to rip the black lace down the side, letting them fall to the floor. He makes quick work of your bra as well, then takes a step back and sighs, “Shit, Bambi, look at you.” It’s the reverence in his voice and on his face that has you launching yourself at him, unable to keep from kissing him any longer. He lets you, quickly taking control, letting you feel all his hunger, the want he’s kept barely bottled up since he first laid eyes on you. You understand it all now. His erection brushes against you, and now it’s his turn to whine, just a little.

He pulls away, brushing a hand down your cheek, then says “Get on the bed, on your stomach.” You quickly comply, laying in the center of the bed with your knees pulled up and spread beneath you. He brings his hand down on one asscheek harshly and you can’t help the lewd moan that escapes you. He chuckles, “Oh, I will definitely remember that for later.” He grabs your hips and cants them up, then whistles at your exposed cunt. “I knew it. Absolutely beautiful.” Then he unceremoniously shoves two fingers into your hole and you choke on nothing. “Shh,” he coos. “You can take it. My cock’s gonna be a lot thicker.”

As he starts scissoring his fingers inside you, you can’t hold it in any longer and start babbling. Mostly a combination of “please,” and “Curtis,” and “I need,” over and over.

“I know, baby,” he says as he pulls his fingers out of you. “I’ve got what you need right here.” You have a brief moment to feel the tip of his cock on your pussy lips before he’s thrusting it into you, as far as he can go without making it hurt.

“Oh my god,” you cry, pressing your forehead into the mattress and balling his dark blue sheets in your hands. You feel so full. It’s so good. He’s working himself into you as quickly as he can, desperate now. You both are. Once he bottoms out, fully seated in you, he pauses. Then with one hand on your stomach and the other around your neck, he pulls you up onto your knees, your back flush to his chest. You cry out at the new angle; he’s somehow even deeper now. He starts thrusting up into you at a punishing pace. You’re bouncing up and down in his firm grasp. The hand on your neck turns your head to face him, his lips brushing against yours. He holds eye contact with you as the hand on your stomach snakes down your pelvis so his thick fingers can begin circling your clit. “Fuck! Curtis, please!” you shout.

“Yeah, come on,” he breathes, “you can let go. You can do it. Come for me like a good girl.” It’s those words that send you careening over the edge, your cunt pulsing around his cock, squeezing him until he’s coming too with a grunt, filling you up until both your cum is leaking out around him.

He holds you there, on your knees, as you both come down, your twin pants all you can hear.

You wake up slowly, the sun shining on you through the soft drapes. You start to shift then groan at how stiff you are. The night before comes back to you. Curtis took you two more times before you both collapsed in satisfied exhaustion. He’s still out like a light beneath you.

You take a moment to look at him. It’s odd to see him so peaceful, so still. There’s nothing of the feral predator he projects to the world. It makes you feel oddly close to him, seeing him like this.

You carefully get up without disturbing him and begin collecting your clothes. You put on your bra, but there’s no saving your panties. Same for your skirt; it’s ripped along the seam. So instead you pick up Curtis’s t-shirt from last night and put it on. It smells like him. You breathe it in shamelessly knowing there’s no one to witness it.

You savor the soreness as you move out of the bedroom. It’s like you can still feel him inside you, how much he wanted you, needed you. It makes you feel a little powerful, having that effect on a man like him.

You make your way into his living room. You didn’t really have a chance to look at his house last night, as determined as he was to get you into the bedroom. If you’d ever thought to picture it, this wouldn’t be far off. It’s all rich blues and greens and grays, leather and dark wood. Masculine. It suits him.

As you’re admiring the room, you hear footsteps behind you and then two big arms are encircling your waist, pulling you into him. “Good morning,” he rasps.

You turn your head to him. “Good morning,” you say with a smile.

“Fuck, Bambi, you’re even hotter in my shirt than you were last night.”

You smirk at him even as your face heats. “Mmm,” you hum. “It’s comfy. You might not get it back.” He nuzzles into your neck as you continue. “I was hoping you might have something I could wear for bottoms, too. You destroyed my skirt.”

His beard roughly drags against your skin as he asks, “Why the hell would I let you wear bottoms?”

You laugh. “Because I have to leave the house, Curtis.”

“No, you don’t,” he says as his hand begins to move between your thighs.

You playfully swat him away, even as you feel yourself getting wet again from his attention. “I have to go home.”

“Why? You’re staying here.” It’s how certain he sounds that has you turning around in his arms.

“What?”

“I don’t like your building. It isn’t safe enough. Now that I finally have you, of course, I’m going to keep you here with me.”

Once again, you feel too many steps behind. You just blink at him, confused. How does he even know where you live??

He takes your chin in his hand, his fingers gentle. “I told you, Bambi, I take care of what’s mine.”

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#curtis everett x reader #curtis everett #soft!dark curtis everett #curtis everett x you #curtis everett x female reader #snowpiercer #andy barber #mob au #reader insert #curtis everett smut #chris evans fanfiction #ce characters #fanfiction #luck be a lady #kris wrote something

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kckt88 · 3 days

Text

A Heartbeat Between Us II

Summary:

Aemond learns about his impending fatherhood as things get a little heated in his office with Y.N and he seeks the support of his brothers before he confesses all to Alys.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Features a Flashback Memory, Swearing, Fingering, Alcohol Consumption, Infidelity, Mild Violence, Kissing, Oral Sex (F & M Recieving), P in V.

AEMOND x Y.N

Word Count: 7177

A.N - I used Zac Gabriel as the face claim for Daeron.

A.N - Most of the story is already written, as I start a new job on Saturday :-)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole @toodlesxcuddles @mamawiggers1980 @minttea07 @nommingonfood

Y.N stepped into Aemond’s office, her breath catching at the sight of him sitting on the edge of his desk, arms folded, his head cocked slightly to the side, a smirk playing on his lips.

Gods, look at him.

His fitted black suit clung perfectly to his lean form, the eye patch and his long silver hair tied half-up in that effortless way. Her eyes flicked down to his lips-those lips and the way they-

No. Not here. Not now.

“Y.N. What a pleasant surprise,” Aemond greeted, his voice smooth as he gestured toward the leather sofa. She smiled nervously, walking past him, aware of his gaze lingering on her.

She crossed her legs as she sat, and Aemond's eye darkened briefly with memory—of how her skin felt beneath his fingers, the taste of her, the way she came undone in his arms.

The way those perfect tits of hers bounced as she rode him.

His cock stirred involuntarily, and he had to shake his head to rid himself of the thoughts.

Aemond took a deep breath and sat next to her, trying to maintain composure. Silence stretched between them, the tension palpable.

“Y-You have a nice office,” Y.N. said, breaking the silence.

“Thank you-” Aemond replied, his gaze never leaving her. “-So what can I do for you?” His tone was light, but she could sense the underlying curiosity.

Oh gods. Here we go.

Y.N. took a deep breath, gathering her courage. “I-I’m p-pregnant.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and unmistakable. Aemond stared at her, stunned into silence.

His usually sharp mind blanked as he tried to process what she had just said to him.

He sat there, motionless, expression unreadable, his mouth hanging open slightly.

“Aemond?” Y.N. waved her hand in front of his face, concerned. “Did you hear me?”

Aemond blinked, snapping out of his daze. “D-Did you just say-that you’re pregnant?”

“Y-Yes” replied Y.N.

“How?” asked Aemond cringing internally at his own idiocy as he knew how babies were made.

What a fucking moron you are Targaryen.

“Well, we didn’t use protection,” Y.N said quietly.

Aemond groaned in frustration, running a hand down his face. The reality of his actions settled over him like a weight.

That night had been intoxicating—too good, too overwhelming for either of them to think clearly. The alcohol didn’t help, and neither did her tight wet cunt wrapped against his cock. He had lost all control.

He was utterly shameless in his need to feel her like that again, but now wasn’t the time for that.

He took her hand instead. “Forgive me for asking, I know you and Jace broke up, but was there any-”

“-It’s not Jace’s,” Y.N. interrupted quickly. “I’m eight weeks along-and I haven’t been with Jace in months,” Y.N. continued. “-I haven’t been with anyone else either. You were the last”

A possessive thrill shot through Aemond, knowing she hadn’t been with anyone else since their night together.

Aemond swallowed, still trying to wrap his head around it.

A child. Their child. A piece of him and her together. Growing inside her right now. His seed had taken root inside her womb.

Fuck he was getting hard.

“I came to tell you because it’s the right thing to do,” Y.N. said, her voice steady. “But I won’t force you to be involved. If you don’t want anyone to know, then I’ll keep it a secret.”

Aemond’s grip tightened around her hand, his eyes flashing with anger. “You want me to forget you’re carrying my child?” His voice was low and dangerous. “That’s not happening”

“I can do this on my own,” Y.N. replied firmly. “I’m perfectly capable.”

“So, you’re keeping the baby?” Aemond asked, and Y.N. looked hurt by the question.

“Of course I’m keeping the baby,” she snapped, her eyes stinging with emotion. “Would you rather I have an abortion?”

“No!” Aemond quickly said, his tone softening. “That’s not what I meant-I just-I never thought I’d have children. And now-this-” He ran a hand over his face, overwhelmed.

His composure slipped as he reached up and wrenched off his eyepatch, throwing it on the sofa.

Y.N. stared at the sapphire in his eye socket, her breath hitching at the sight of him.

Even in this vulnerable moment, Aemond was breathtaking. His raw beauty had always left her speechless.

“We should get married,” Aemond blurted out.

Y.N. gasped, shocked. “We can’t. What about Alys?”

Aemond stood up abruptly, pacing the length of the office, frustration rolling off him in waves.

Damn it. He was in a relationship, and not only had he cheated, but now Y.N. was pregnant.

“I’ll tell Alys-” Aemond said, taking a deep breath. “But I want to be involved. In everything. The baby, the appointments, all of it. I won’t run away from my responsibility-”

Y.N. nodded, relieved that he wanted to be there. She reached into her handbag and pulled out the scan photo. “I only have one copy-” she handed it to him.

Aemond stared at the tiny figure, a smile tugging at his lips.

Their baby. His baby. A tiny person that he helped to create.

He handed back the scan photo as Y.N. took out her phone and seconds later, his phone buzzed with a message. He opened it to find a picture of the scan.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I mean it, Y.N. I want to be there. For you and our baby”

Y.N smiled and stood up, slowly smoothing the wrinkles out of her skirt.

“Where are you going?” asked Aemond.

“I’ve said what I needed to say. Now, I’m starving, and I need pickles.”

Aemond grimaced “Pickles?”

“The baby makes me want them” laughed Y.N

Before she could leave, Aemond reached out, gently placing his hand on her stomach. Y.N. smiled at the touch.

They were so close, and Aemond couldn’t resist as he leaned in, pressing his lips to hers in a slow, passionate kiss. His hand slid around her body, pulling her close as the kiss deepened.

He slowly backed her up against the door, lifting her slightly as she moaned into his mouth, feeling the hardness of his cock pressing into her.

His hand slowly moving under the fabric of her skirt, skimming the soft flesh of her thigh before his fingers rubbed her pearl over the cotton material of her knickers.

“Already so wet for me” groaned Aemond.

“A-Aemond” breathed Y.N.

“Does it feel good baby?” asked Aemond.

“Oh-Aemond-yes-please” whimpered Y.N as he moved her knickers aside and slid two of his long fingers inside her.

“It’s been so long since I last felt you” whispered Aemond as he curled his fingers inside her.

“So long-oh yes” replied Y.N moving her hips in time with Aemond’s fingers.

“Are you going to come already? I can feel you clenching” muttered Aemond, his fingers still moving inside her.

“Yes-Yes. I-I’m going to-” whimpered Y.N

“Shhhh-” urged Aemond as he surged forward his lips on her muffling her scream as her peak exploded, her cunny clenching around Aemond’s fingers.

A sudden knock at the door broke the moment, and they pulled apart, breathing heavily.

Aemond lowered her gently back to the floor, his forehead resting against hers for a brief second.

“Let me if you know if you need anything,” whispered Aemond as he removed his fingers and then put them in his mouth, his tongue swirling around his fingers, savouring the taste of her.

“I-I w-will” muttered Y.N as Aemond pressed a quick kiss to her lips.

Aemond watched as she smoothed out her clothes and left the office a little wobbly legged.

Once she was gone, Aemond poked his head out of his office and barked at his assistant, “Hold my calls for fifteen minutes.”

With a heavy sigh, he pulled out a bottle of whisky from his desk drawer, taking a long drink.

Holy shit. He was going to be a father. Y.N. was the mother of his child and he'd just fingered her in his office.

What the fuck was he doing?

Aemond sat alone in his office, staring out the window at the sprawling city below, but his mind was far from the towering skyline.

His fingers drummed idly on the armrest of his chair, the familiar hum of work barely registering.

Instead, memories of that night played out vividly in his mind, as if they had happened just moments ago-

He leaned against the lower bar at the Dragon's Den, swirling his drink, trying to convince himself he was here to unwind.

Aegon and Daeron had practically dragged him out, insisting he needed to loosen up after weeks of work.

He had reluctantly agreed, not because he wanted to, but because the constant pressure at Targaryen Inc. had left him worn thin.

It was actually Helaena’s text that had first piqued his interest. She had casually mentioned that she was going clubbing with Y.N.

He hadn’t given it much thought at the time, but now, as he scanned the room and his eye landed on her, he felt like someone had punched him in the gut.

Gods, that dress-those legs. He wondered what it feel like to have his head between them.

She looked absolutely incredible, more beautiful than he remembered. His heart stuttered in his chest, and his grip tightened around his drink.

He had known Y.N. for years, ever since school. At first, she had been just Helaena’s annoying friend—always around, always talking.

He couldn’t stand her back then. Or so he’d told himself.

But then one day, something shifted. She stopped being annoying, and he found himself thinking about her far too often.

A stupid, insecure kid who hid behind sarcasm and cruelty because he couldn’t handle the fact that she made him feel something.

His eye injury had left him insecure about his appearance, and he’d been too much of a coward to admit how he really felt. Instead, he was a prick to her.

Always keeping his distance, always lashing out. But that didn’t stop him from thinking about her constantly.

Didn’t stop him from fucking his fist at the thought of her, imagining what it would be like to touch her, kiss her, have her.

So pathetic.

But she’d gone off to a different college, and by the time she came back, everything had changed. He’d started working at Targaryen Inc., and Alys had entered the picture.

She had gotten involved with Jace, his strong-bastard nephew. Aemond clenched his jaw at the memory, the bitter taste of jealousy rising in his throat.

Of all the people she could have been with, it had to be him-

Aegon elbowed him, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Stop staring at Y.N.,” he laughed, clearly enjoying Aemond’s discomfort.

Aemond scowled, pushing Aegon away. “I’m not staring at anyone. Get lost.”

But Aegon wasn’t buying it. He smirked, clearly amused by the whole thing. A group of girls walked past them, giggling, shooting flirtatious glances in their direction.

Daeron, who had been quietly sipping his drink, sighed. “There are some lovely women here tonight.”

Aemond barely registered his younger brother’s comment. His gaze flicked back to Y.N., who was still across the room, laughing with Helaena.

She looked radiant, so effortlessly beautiful it hurt. He wondered if she’d noticed him, or if she was too wrapped up in whatever she was talking about.

Daeron leaned closer. “Aren’t you with Alys? I’m not sure she’d approve of you staring at other women.”

Aegon chimed in with a chuckle. “You know Alys is all wrong for you.”

Aemond sighed heavily, the conversation grating on him. “Give it a rest.”

His brothers never missed an opportunity to remind him of how ill-suited Alys was. Maybe they were right. Maybe they weren’t.

It didn’t matter, not when Y.N. was here, looking like that, making it impossible for him to think of anything else.

Then Daeron had to open his mouth, “Isn’t Y.N. dating our nephew?”

Aemond muttered an insult under his breath, something about Jace’s strong parentage.

Aegon, ever the instigator, laughed. “I don’t see a ring on her finger.”

Aemond drained the rest of his drink, rolling his eyes. “Just because you have the morals of an alley cat doesn’t mean everyone else does”

But even as he said it, his gaze wandered back to Y.N. Then, their eyes met—across the dancing crowd, over the flashing lights.

For a moment, the noise of the club faded away. She looked at him, really looked at him, and the connection between them was instant.

There was something in her eyes, something that made his pulse quicken. And then he smirked, unable to help himself.

Daeron, clearly enjoying the scene, downed the rest of his drink. “Watch and learn brother” Before Aemond could stop him, he was already making his way over to Y.N., striking up a conversation.

Aemond watched, feeling the familiar surge of jealousy tighten in his chest as Daeron led her to the dance floor.

Damn that dress and how she looked in it.

All Aemond could think about was what she might be wearing underneath it—if anything at all.

He wanted her. Badly. Wanted to pull her close, kiss her, feel her body pressed against his, sink his cock into her.

Aegon leaned in, laughing. “Daeron seems to be making progress.”

Aemond scoffed, unable to tear his eye away from Y.N. “Not for long.”

He had seen it—her glances, the way she looked at him over Daeron’s shoulder. That look in her eyes told him everything he needed to know.

Finishing his drink, he set the glass down with determination. He wasn’t going to sit on the sidelines any longer.

As Daeron danced with her, Aemond pushed his way through the crowd, locking his gaze on her.

That night, every sense of control he had possessed was gone. That carnal, desperate urge overtook him, and Alys—everything else—became a distant memory.

It was reckless, it was wrong, but he didn’t regret a damn thing.

The next morning, as he watched Y.N. walk around her kitchen in her little shorts and tank top, that fire ignited in him all over again.

Sure, he could blame the alcohol, but deep down, he knew the truth—they had always had something.

Something more than physical attraction. Something that went deeper, beyond lust.

She had always matched him intellectually, always pushed him, always knew how to get under his skin.

Even back in school, when she critiqued his every answer in class or challenged him, she had ignited something in him no one else ever had.

Not even Alys.

When he first started dating Alys, the allure had been there—an older woman, the mystery of it all. But it had eventually soured.

He’d wanted to end things, but his grandfather Otto had convinced him to keep her around, considering her ties to Larys Strong.

His feelings for Alys were muted and shallow. He’d settled because he never thought he’d have a real chance with Y.N.

But now, everything had changed. Y.N. was pregnant with his child. They’d kissed and gods help him he’d fingered her in his office, and if they hadn’t been interrupted, he was sure he would have had her bent over his desk.

She had infiltrated his mind, his body, his every waking thought.

Gods, he was so screwed.

Aemond sat across from his brothers at the dining table in his penthouse, the three of them surrounded by hastily opened containers of Chinese takeout.

For a while, they ate in silence, the occasional clatter of forks and slurping of noodles the only sounds in the room.

“So,” Aegon began, leaning back in his chair, “-What was the big emergency that you needed to invite us over for?”

Aemond finished chewing and wiped his mouth with a napkin, eyes flicking between his brothers. He let out a slow breath, bracing himself before speaking. “Y.N. is pregnant.”

Daeron, mid-swig of his beer, sprayed it everywhere in shock, while Aegon choked on his spring roll, coughing violently.

Aemond sat there, watching as they both struggled to recover, stone-faced.

When Aegon finally caught his breath, he croaked, “Are you being fucking serious?”

Aemond nodded. “Yes.”

Daeron blinked, wiping his mouth. “How did that happen?”

Aemond gave him a deadpan look. “Surely I don’t have to explain the dynamics of sex to you, little brother.”

Daeron wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Eww, no thanks-”

“So, she’s pregnant?” said Aegon his face a mix of disbelief and amusement.

Aemond, clearly growing impatient, shot up from his seat. “Yes, she’s pregnant! There’s a baby growing inside her, and I’m the fucking father!”

Daeron, still processing, blurted out, “Haven’t you heard of condoms?”

Aegon burst into laughter, nearly knocking over his plate. “Oh, for all the lectures I’ve had to endure from our mother over the years about safe sex, and it’s my little brother who didn’t wrap it before he tapped it. Now he’s having a baby out of wedlock—Mother is going to kill you.”

Aemond narrowed his eye at Aegon. “Try not to sound so happy about it.”

“I’m going to enjoy it because, for once, it’s not my fault,” Aegon shot back with a grin, leaning forward in his chair, clearly enjoying himself.

Daeron, laughing now, pointed at Aegon. “It was your idea to go to the club, so technically it is your fault.”

Aegon jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow. “Shut up”

Daeron, still grinning, shifted the tone. “It’s not just mother you should worry about. What about Alys?”

Aegon jumped on that immediately. “Maybe mother will be happy to have a grandchild, especially knowing Alys isn’t the mother.”

Aemond shook his head, not wanting to think about the impending confrontation with Alys. It was a situation that grew more complicated by the second.

Daeron’s expression turned curious as he asked, “Is that why Y.N. was at the office today?”

Aemond’s eyes sharpened. “How do you know she was at the office?”

“I saw her leaving,” Daeron shrugged. “She seemed a little flustered.”

Aegon’s face lit up, noticing the shift in Aemond’s expression. “What happened?”

“N-Nothing,” Aemond muttered, eye narrowing in warning.

Aegon, giddy with excitement, leaned forward, voice teasing. “Did you fuck in your office?”

Daeron, now laughing along with Aegon, added, “Did you?”

Aemond took a long swig of his beer, then sighed. “No. We didn’t, but we almost did. We kissed—and I may have had my hand under her skirt, but we were interrupted.”

Aegon raised his beer in mock sympathy. “Aww, how unfortunate for you. But come on, you can admit it now—you’ve got a thing for her.”

Aemond’s patience snapped. “I do not!”

Daeron chuckled, shaking his head. “Yes, you do. You’ve had a face like a wet weekend since you slept with her, and now you’re positively glowing. Just admit it.”

Aemond set his beer down a little too forcefully. “I like that she’s intelligent and I like her smile.”

Aegon scoffed, almost choking on his drink again. “That’s not the only reason you fucked her. Let’s face it—she’s better for you than the wicked witch of the west.”

Aemond ignored Aegon’s jab, reaching for another beer with a sigh. “Hurry up and finish your food. Alys will be round soon, and I’d rather not have an audience when I tell her.”

Aegon made a dramatic face of mock horror. “Don’t be a spoil sport.”

Daeron nodded in agreement. “Yeah, you could at least video it, so we have enough evidence to give the police when she kills you.”

Aemond growled at Daeron, but his younger brother just exchanged a look with Aegon before the two of them burst into laughter.

Aegon shook his head, grinning wide. “I’m not rushing my food and giving myself indigestion just so you can panic over telling your girlfriend you’ve knocked up another girl—oh man, I can’t believe I said that. It’s so scandalous.” He laughed harder. “You dirty dog!”

“Aegon, duck!” warned Daeron.

Aegon moved just in time to avoid the remote that Aemond hurled at his head.

Laughing even harder now, Aegon got up, grabbing his jacket. “Perhaps we should go, Daeron. Mr. Sensitive over here looks like he’s about to have a hernia.”

Daeron stretched and stood up, finishing his beer. “Fancy a quick stop for a stronger drink before we head home?”

“Sure, why not?” Aegon slung his arm over Daeron’s shoulder as they headed to the door. “After Aemond’s baby bombshell, I think we both deserve one.”

Aemond, fists clenched, shouted after them, “Get out!”

Their laughter echoed through the hallway as they left, waiting for the lift, still teasing him as the door closed behind them.

Aemond stood in the middle of his penthouse, his heart racing as he received a text from Alys: “On my way over, be there soon. Can’t wait to see you. xx”

Panic set in immediately. The place was a mess after his brothers had left, the takeout boxes still scattered across the dining table and the remnants of their impromptu meal cluttering the space.

He could already hear Alys’s voice in his head, scolding him if she arrived and found the place looking like a pigsty.

Plus she would likley nag him about eating take out and not eating the proper food to keep his body fit, even though he worked out regularly.

Without wasting a second, Aemond rushed into action. He grabbed the empty takeout containers and tossed them into the trash, wiped down the table, and hurriedly washed the dishes.

The sounds of clinking plates and running water filled the otherwise silent kitchen. He could feel the pressure mounting, not just from the impending arrival of Alys, but from everything that had built up over the past few days—weeks, even.

Once the place was spotless, he sat down on the edge of the sofa, bouncing his leg anxiously as he waited.

His thoughts raced. How would he tell her? How could he possibly explain what had happened, not just with Y.N., but the baby?

He barely had time to dwell on it before he heard the familiar ping of the lift doors opening, followed by the clicking of heels on the polished floor.

The door unlocked, and in walked Alys, arms laden with shopping bags. Aemond immediately stood up, hurrying over to take the bags from her.

She pressed a quick kiss to his lips in gratitude and moved to sit on the sofa. Aemond placed the bags down beside her before asking, “Did you enjoy your shopping trip?”

“I did,” Alys replied as she slipped of her heels “I saw Helaena.”

Aemond’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh, right. Everything okay?” He tried to sound nonchalant, but panic surged through him.

He prayed that Helaena hadn’t mentioned anything about Y.N. His sister didn’t know about the baby-yet, but she did know that he’d spent the night with Y.N.

“She was-muttering to herself and walked off before I could say hello,” Alys said, her tone dripping with mild annoyance. “Honestly, she’s so weird.”

Aemond’s patience, already stretched thin, snapped. “You know I don’t like it when you insult my sister.”

Alys smiled, standing up and walking over to him, her hands moving slowly over his chest as she offered an apology.

“I’m sorry darling” Her hands slid lower, and she pressed her body against his. “You seem-a little out of sorts. Maybe I can help with that,” she whispered before kissing him.

He kissed her back out of reflex, but it felt wrong, his mind, traitorously, drifted to Y.N.

Aemond remembered how she had looked in his office when he had his hand in between her legs, how wet she was and the sounds she made as she climaxed.

A flash of heat surged through him, and his cock began to get hard, and Alys mistook his sudden flare of arousal as desire for her.

She managed to undo his belt, but the instant her fingers began fiddling with his buttons, reality snapped back into place.

Aemond recoiled, pulling away from her.

“What’s wrong?” Alys asked, her voice sharp as she watched him hurriedly button up his trousers and wrench off his eyepatch.

He caught the brief look of disgust she gave when she glanced at his sapphire eye—so different from Y.N., who had told him he was beautiful, making him feel seen in a way Alys never had.

But he couldn’t think about Y.N. right now, not with Alys standing in front of him, waiting for an explanation.

He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of what he had to confess. Turning to the drinks cabinet, he pulled out a hidden pack of cigarettes, lit one quickly, and took a long drag.

“I thought I told you to quit that,” Alys said, her voice tinged with irritation.

“I need it” Aemond muttered, exhaling smoke, trying to calm his nerves.

“You’re acting strange,” she noted, suspicion creeping into her voice. “What’s going on?”

Aemond took another drag before stubbing out the cigarette, steeling himself. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Alys crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. “What is it?”

He exhaled slowly, avoiding her gaze. “Do you remember when you were in America with Larys?”

“Yes,” she replied, her voice guarded. “Why?”

“I went out with Aegon and Daeron while you were gone,” Aemond began, feeling the weight of the confession build in his throat. “Helaena was there-with Y.N.”

Alys’ expression darkened at the mention of Y.N. “What have you done, Aemond?”

He swallowed hard. “I had too much to drink. Alys, I’m sorry, but I-I slept with Y.N.”

For a moment, the room was silent. Alys stood frozen, processing what he had just said.

Then, in a flash of fury, she picked up a vase and hurled it at him.

“You did what?” she screamed.

Aemond ducked, the vase smashing against the wall behind him.

Before he could react, she grabbed another smaller vase and hurled it at him, her eyes blazing with rage.

“How could you do this to me?!”

He dove behind the sofa, barely dodging the second vase as it shattered on the floor.

“It was a drunken mistake,” he lied through gritted teeth.

The truth was that it hadn’t felt like a mistake at all.

It had been incredible, and he’d thought about it every day since. He wanted it to happen again, even though he knew it was wrong.

Gods, he was a terrible person.

Alys’ voice cut through his thoughts. “Do you have feelings for her?”

Aemond stood slowly from behind the sofa, his gaze hard. “No.”

Another lie.

He did have feelings for Y.N. He always had, even before Alys.

Alys stepped closer, her voice trembling. “Was it just once?”

“Yes,” muttered Aemond.

Another lie, he had his hand between her legs today.

She took a deep breath, her anger momentarily subsiding as she considered the situation.

“Maybe we can-work through this-”

Aemond cut her off, his voice low. “-There’s something else I have to tell you.”

Alys’s eyes narrowed in suspicion again. “What else could you have possibly done?”

Aemond took another breath, the words heavy on his tongue. “Y.N. is pregnant.”

In anticipation of Alys throwing something else at him, Aemond instantly dropped to the floor, hiding behind the sofa again.

He peeked over the back of the couch and saw Alys standing there, her face drained of colour.

“How do you even know it’s yours? She’s seeing your nephew.”

Your nephew too, if the rumours are true.

“No, she’s not,” Aemond replied as he stood up, feeling his frustration rise. “They broke up months ago. The baby is mine.”

Alys’ expression twisted with disgust and hurt. She pulled on her heels and reached into her bag, pulling out the keys to his penthouse, and throwing them onto the floor.

“I’m leaving.”

“Alys, I’m sorry. It was an accident—”

“Oh, what happened?” she snapped sarcastically. “You tripped, and your cock just happened to land inside her?”

Aemond grimaced, unable to respond.

Alys’ voice cracked as she asked, “Is this because I can’t have children?”

Against his better judgment, Aemond stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. “No, that was never an issue.”

She buried her face in his chest, sobbing. “How could you do this to me? I love you.”

Aemond rolled his eye, his inner voice immediately chafing at her words.

Loves my name more like.

After a moment, Alys pulled away, her face hardening.

“It’s over,” she said, her voice shaking but firm as she gathered her shopping bags and left without another word.

Aemond winced as she slammed the door.

Well, there’s no going back now.

Y.N. sat curled up on her sofa, watching Jaws on the television, the tension building in the movie as she readied to take a bite of her pizza.

Just as the shark loomed on screen, a loud knock at the door startled her, making her jump. She quickly checked the time—8:30 PM.

“Who the hell is visiting at this time?” she muttered under her breath.

If it was Jace, she swore she was going to kill him. She was sick of the barrage of text messages he’d been sending.

One moment, he was apologetic and sweet, the next, angry and demanding. She hadn’t replied to a single one all day.

Peering through the peephole, her stomach flipped when she saw long silver hair on the other side of the door.

“Oh, bugger,” she mumbled, her hand hesitating on the door handle.

What was Aemond doing here?

She opened the door, and before she could say a word, Aemond blurted out, “I told Alys.”

Y.N. blinked in surprise. “Oh-you’d better come in, then.”

Aemond stepped inside, and as he passed, she wrinkled her nose at the faint odour of whiskey that clung to him.

He didn’t seem drunk, just tense and slightly dishevelled. He flopped onto the sofa, immediately eyeing the pizza box.

Without asking, he reached over and snagged a slice.

“Oi! That’s mine,” Y.N. scolded.

“But I’m hungry,” Aemond shot back with a smirk.

“You have a perfectly good penthouse. Bugger off and get your own pizza.”

Aemond’s lips curled into a lazy grin. “Yeah, but you’re not in my penthouse.”

Y.N. couldn't help but smile at the awful attempt at whatever the hell that was supposed to be.

She sat down beside him, shaking her head. “Don't steal my chips.”

Aemond pouted dramatically. “Aw, come on. Don’t be stingy.”

With a smirk, Y.N. poured a generous amount of garlic sauce over the chips, thinking it would deter him.

Aemond laughed, stuffing a handful into his mouth. “Joke’s on you. I like garlic sauce.”

He licked the sauce off his fingers, and for a moment, Y.N. stared at him, feeling unexpectedly flustered.

She quickly cleared her throat. “So, uh-how did Alys take the news?”

Aemond sighed, leaning back against the sofa. “She threw a couple of vases at me-and then ended things.”

Y.N. felt a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry.”

Aemond shook his head. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I’m the one who pursued you, even though I had a girlfriend.”

His gaze shifted to the flowers sitting on the side table. “Who are those from?”

Y.N. sighed. “They came today. From Jace.”

At the mention of his nephew’s name, Aemond’s eye narrowed, a spark of irritation flashing across his face.

“What does that twat want?”

“He keeps asking me to get back together with him,” Y.N. said, rolling her eyes. “-he knows about the baby-just not who the father is.”

“Oh, really?” said Aemond smugly.

“Don’t you go telling him either.”

“Would I?” laughed Aemond wriggling his eyebrows.

“I can’t even begin to imagine how that conversation will go-” Y.N. sighed. “It’s not like I can call him up and say, oh, Jacey, you know that I’m pregnant? Well, your uncle Aemond is the father. Yeah, the same uncle who’s eye your brother carved out when you were kids, and the same uncle who you got into a fight with five years ago at a family dinner because he made a strong toast”

Aemond sniggered, remembering the altercation with Jace and the satisfying feeling of breaking his nephew’s nose.

Y.N. glanced at him and then at the pizza. “Want another slice?”

Aemond shook his head. “Nah, I’m good.”

Y.N. cheered and immediately began eating with gusto, “I’ve. Just. Been. So. Hungry. Lately” each word followed a bite of pizza.

Aemond sat there, watching her with a soft smile, thinking about how lovely she looked—even with a smear of pizza sauce on her cheek.

When she finished, Aemond grabbed the empty boxes and tossed them into the bin. When he returned to the sofa, he was chuckling softly.

“What?” Y.N. asked, confused.

“You’ve still got tomato sauce on your cheek,” Aemond said with a smirk.

Before she could wipe it off, Aemond leaned in and kissed her cheek softly, running his tongue over the sauce.

The unexpected gesture made Y.N. gasp, and when she looked at him, their faces were mere inches apart.

The air between them grew thick, hot, and charged with unspoken desire. There was no hesitation—no denying what had been building between them.

Their lips collided in a passionate, heated kiss. Aemond wrapped his arms around her, lifting her easily into his lap as her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist.

Y.N.’s fingers tangled in his silver hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, fiery and intense. Aemond stood, still holding her, and carried her effortlessly toward the bedroom, their mouths never parting.

Aemond’s lips never left Y.N.’s as he lowered her onto the bed, their breaths ragged and hurried, the heat between them building to a fever pitch.

His hands roamed her body eagerly, fingers brushing over the soft fabric of her p.j shirt before slipping underneath.

Y.N. gasped into his mouth as his touch sent shivers racing down her spine, her own hands moving to tug at the hem of his shirt.

In a flurry of movement, Y.N. pulled his shirt up, and Aemond broke the kiss just long enough for it to come off before their lips met again, more demanding this time.

His own fingers worked quickly on riding her of the strappy shirt she wore. The cool air hit her chest as her shirt slid off her shoulders, but it was quickly replaced by the warmth of Aemond’s body as he pressed closer to her.

Y.N. arched into him, her hands moving with purpose, her fingers deftly unbuckling his belt, pushing it aside with urgency.

Aemond groaned, feeling her touch so close to where he needed her, but his focus was on her now.

His hands slid down to the waistband of her shorts, pushing them down in one smooth motion, her legs helping to kick them off entirely.

Fuck she wasn’t wearing any knickers.

The intensity in his gaze as he looked at her, bare beneath him, made her heart race even faster. She pulled at the waistband of his trousers, and he quickly complied, standing just long enough to let them fall to the floor, his shoes kicked off hastily.

As soon as he was back over her, their bodies pressed together, skin to skin, Y.N. let out a low moan at the feeling of his warmth, the weight of him against her.

His lips moved to her neck, kissing and nipping gently, while his hands slid down her sides,

“Let me take care of you” muttered Y.N as she placed kisses along Aemond jaw and then down his neck, making sure to gently nip and suck his skin as she went.

She carried on moving down, pausing as she reached his chest, she grinned as she took one of his nipples into her mouth, her tongue teasing it before she bit down.

“FUCK” moaned Aemond.

“Do you like that?” asked Y.N as she moved across and gave his other nipple the same

“Oh. Gods-” whimpered Aemond as she moved further down his body, her tongue and teeth grazing his pale skin.

When she reached the trail of hair from his belly button down to his cock, she pressed her nose against him and giggled when she felt the hair tickle her skin.

Aemond lost his senses the moment Y.N’s warm, wet mouth quickly wrapped around the head of his swollen cock.

Her tongue gently moving around the tip – tracing the ridges and licking off that drops of pre-cum that had started to leak out.

“Fuck, Y.N!” groaned Aemond as he threaded his fingers through her hair.

Y.N ran the flat of her tongue along Aemond’s length, tracing every hard inch of him.

Aemond knew it would push the limits of his control, but he did not care. He just had to watch his cock disappear into Y.N’s mouth and see it come back out, shining with her spit.

Her head moving back and forth, her perfect pink lips stretched around him.

“I’m not going to last if you carry on” Aemond admitted.

Y.N smiled slightly and began moving faster, also using one of her hands in rhythm with her mouth.

“It feels so good-that’s it” groaned Aemond.

Y.N responded to his statement by relaxing the back of her throat, and swallowing as much of Aemond’s cock as she could, whilst her other hand cupped his balls.

“Shit-Y.N. I’m going to come. Oh, fuck, I’m coming!” shouted Aemond as he exploded.

Y.N took every last drop, swallowing his warm seed and licking him clean.

When he recovered, Aemond saw Y.N’s self-satisfied smile.

“Was that to your liking?” asked Y.N.

“Y-Yes. Now get up here and ride my face until I’m ready again” gasped Aemond.

“Are you sure?” whispered Y.N

“Get up here-now” ordered Aemond, his cock already twitching with interest.

Y.N hovered above Aemond’s face; her knees splayed on either side of his head.

“Such a pretty pussy" breathed Aemond as he ran the flat of his tongue along Y.N’s soaked slit, from bottom to the top, tasting her.

“Oh, my god” moaned Y.N her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“That’s it. Let me hear you”

“YES. It feels so good” whimpered Y.N.

“FUCK” growled Aemond.

“Ooooh A-Aemond-just like that” shrieked Y.N.

"Delicious" purred Aemond as he began lapping at Y.N, running his tongue along every fold.

"More" panted Y.N "Please. I need more”.

Aemond inserted two fingers, sliding them in and out of her slick wet folds, his nose bumping against her pearl.

“Oh" whimpered Y.N; her chest heaving as she began to gently roll her hips against him.

“That’s it, ride my fucking face” groaned Aemond.

Y.N was giving off a slew of loud swear words, moans, and pleas, that surely her neighbours would hear.

Aemond’s fingers were soaking wet as they continued to pump in and out of her tight heat.

“I can’t wait to get my cock inside you. Come for me baby, come for daddy” moaned Aemond.

Finally, he felt Y.N’s inner walls start to flutter around his fingers, squeezing them. Y.N’s back arched taut as a bow and she screamed her release.

Aemond pumped slowly and lapped at Y.N’s centre as she came.

After a few minutes, Aemond gently urged her to move down, so she was hovering above his cock.

Her hand wrapped around him, running the head of his cock along her warm wet folds.

“Your such a tease” moaned Aemond as his hips jerked involuntarily.

“But it feels so good” replied Y.N as she slowly moved down on his cock, so only the tip of him was inside her.

“P-Please” whimpered Aemond.

“Uh-uh” said Y.N shaking her head from side to side.

After a few minutes Aemond couldn’t take it anymore and seized Y.N’s hips, before sheathing his hard cock into her soaked cunt.

"AEMOND!" screamed Y.N.

"Gods. You feel so good-missed you-missed this-" rasped Aemond.

"Fuck me, Aemond" urged Y.N, her tone bordering on desperate as she rolled her hips against his.

Aemond started to thrust slowly, trying to prolong the feel of Y.N squeezing his cock.

“P-Please” whined Y.N as Aemond began teasing her pearl with his thumb.

“That’s it-take all of me”

“OH-MY-“ shrieked Y.N.

“You like that?” groaned Aemond his other hand grasping her hip.

"Faster, please" begged Y.N.

“Like this?” replied Aemond as he gave a quick deep thrust.

“Yes, Aemond, just like that-" panted Y.N.

Her hands ran along his arms, over his shoulders and down his chest, digging her nails into his pale skin.

“Gods, Y.N" grunted Aemond, speeding up slightly.

"Fuck me, Aemond" whispered Y.N "Fuck me with that big, cock of yours. You feel so good inside me”.

Aemond knew exactly what Y.N was doing, and he couldn’t help himself.

Y.N wanted faster, and he was going much faster now, his feet planted on the bed to give him more leverage and his pace increased with every filthy word that dropped from Y.N’s luscious lips as he thrust into her.

“Aemond-I’m going to come. Oh, fuck!” screamed Y.N.

Y.N looked amazing when she came. Her head thrown back in pleasure, her eyes alive with lust, and her pale skin shining with sweat.

Aemond then withdrew, ignoring Y.N’s whimper of protest as he rolled her onto her back and quickly sheathed himself inside her again.

She wrapped her legs around Aemond’s waist, drawing him closer as he began to thrust inside her, his cock reaching deep inside.

“I-I’m going-to come” moaned Aemond.

“Yes-oh don’t stop-please Aemond” whined Y.N.

That, combined with how glorious Y.N felt, pushed Aemond over the edge, the heat shooting across his abdomen. His cock throbbing and twitching as he spilled his seed.

Aemond shifted slightly, adjusting his position so he could wrap an arm around Y.N.'s waist, pulling her closer.

His hand instinctively splayed across her stomach, fingers resting gently against the tiny curve there, a silent acknowledgment of the life growing inside her.

He stared down at her in the dim light, watching as her eyes fluttered shut, her breathing softening into the slow, rhythmic pattern of sleep.

For a moment, Aemond couldn't move. He could still feel the lingering electricity between them, the intensity of their passion moments ago still hanging in the air.

But there was something more now—a quiet sense of peace as he held her, his thumb absentmindedly stroking small circles on her stomach.

His mind wandered to the future, to the child they were now tied together by, to the uncertainty of what would come next.

Y.N. shifted slightly in her sleep, turning toward him, her head resting against his chest. Aemond closed his eye, letting out a slow breath, feeling the weight of everything, yet feeling more grounded than he had in a long time.

He held her a little tighter, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head before resting his cheek against her hair.

TBC

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond fic #hotd fic #aemond one eye #aemond #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #aemond x reader

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svtiddiess · 17 hours

Text

Soft Serenity

Synopsis: Watching your boyfriend sleep is one of the best things in the world.

Pairing: Jeonghan x gn!reader

Genre: fluff, one shot

Rating: sfw

Word count: 529

Warnings: none! Lemme know if I missed anything!

Note: Need me a Jeonghan right now ㅠㅠ

@tomodachiii I told you he'd get a happy ending! Now, please stop screaming at me.

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Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

Safe. That's what you felt at the moment, in your boyfriend's arms as you watched him sleep. Streaks of sunlight peak in through the blinds, illuminating your boyfriend's face and making him look more ethereal than he already does. His blonde hair, which he recently dyed for the upcoming comeback, frames his face, truly making him look like an angel.

You smile at the thought of your boyfriend being known as an 'angel' among his fans when, in fact, he's quite the opposite. Not a day goes by when you're not dealing with the consequences of dating this angel-like devil. But you know for a fact that you wouldn't give it up for the world.

Ever since you met Jeonghan, every day has been an adventure. Even if most days you spend with him are at home cuddling, he somehow always manages to keep you on your toes, either through cheeky remarks or 'harmless' pranks. You can't imagine your life before you met him; it seemed so monotonous and bland, like something was always missing. And when you met Jeonghan, it finally clicked; he was the puzzle piece that was missing in your life.

You bring your focus back to the man in front of you. You gently use your finger to trace his beautiful features, careful not to wake him. You've always marvelled at how beautiful Jeonghan looked, even admitting to him that he looked more beautiful than you, to which he laughed and cooed, saying that to him, you're the most beautiful thing in the entire universe.

Your finger stops when you reach his lips, which are pouting due to his face being squished by the pillow. You'd never admit this to him, but you're addicted to his lips. You can kiss him for hours and still want more. The feeling of his lips on your skin always makes you shudder, even if it is just an innocent peck on the cheek. You lean forward to place a gentle kiss on his pouting lips, silently giggling to yourself.

Jeonghan's pout turns into a smile as he shifts to bring you closer to him, causing you to let out a small squeak. He then places a kiss on the corner of your lips before snuggling his face into your neck.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" You softly ask, moving your hands to thread them in his hair. He shakes his head.

"I've been awake this whole time," he mumbles into your neck, and you swear you can feel him smile.

"So you knew I was watching you this whole time?!" You could feel your cheeks heat up at the thought of Jeonghan catching you admiring him.

"You looked so happy, so I just let you be," he hums, "plus it felt nice."

"You're going to tease me about it later, aren't you?"

"Definitely."

You let out a defeated sigh as you continue to rake your fingers through his hair. With Jeonghan, there's definitely no winning. But with him, there definitely will be happiness, excitement, comfort, safety, and serenity. You feel him place a kiss on your neck, making you giggle softly.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

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gibson-g1rl · 12 hours

Text

𐙚 POV: you’re jensen ackles’ controversially younger gf ⭐️

yourusername

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yourusername ⭐️

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jackles_fan every time she posts i get sick to my stomach 😣

girlblogger_ he looks so good what the fuck 💔

y/n_fan @/girlblogger forget him i want her 🫦

jensenackles

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jensenackles A little taste of the weekend. 🙏🫶🏼

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user_03737 @/yourusername she just like us fr 😭😭

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girlblogger_ started foaming at the mouth

blue-d she’s getting that d everyday oh my god 💔💔

randomuser-00 they’re both so hot what the fuck

user_ 6TH PICTURE HAS ME SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP

dean_lover @/user_ RIGHT? why is no one else talking about??? his hand looks so good 😧 her ass too??

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yourusername may dump 💐

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yourbestfriendsuser body tea

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yourbestfriendsuser @/yourusername @/jensenackles stole your girl 😛

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girlblogger_ she’s so cunty i love her

winchester-br0th3rs 5th picture 🥹 he looks so cute omg!

dean_lover @/winchester-br0th3rs right! he looks so dreamy

jensenackles

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jensenackles A few summer pics. Hope everyone is having a great one. Happy 4th yall.

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yourusername first picture?? rattling the bars of my enclosure

jensenackles @/yourusername 😂

dean_lover @/jensenackles his reply lmaoo 😭 old man

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blue-d ripping my hair out he looks so good 😓

wi4hfulth1nking WOOF WOOF

randomuser_ is she not too young for him…

girlblogger_ @/randomuser_ SHUT UP HO 🗣️

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blue-d yall looking for a third?

wi4hfulth1nking @/blue-d PLEASE 😭

dean_lover need him BIBLICALLY

yourusername 20m

𐙚 thank you for reading ⭐️

𐙚 i had a lot of fun making this lol 🤭

𐙚 tags: @pearlzier @blue-d @wi4hfulth1nking

𐙚 reblogs are greatly appreciated ⭐️

𐙚 creds to @strangergraphics for the divider!

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles smut #jensen fucking ackles #jackles #jensen ackles fluff #dean winchester #supernatural #gibson g1rl’s recs ꩜ .ᐟ #insta au #dean winchester x reader #gibson g1rl’s fics 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

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kaleldobrev · 3 days

Text

Aren't You a Little Young? (4) — The 15 Year Problem Series

Pairing: MOC!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Feat. Character(s): Reader & Dean Winchester

Series Summary: Needing help on a poltergeist case, you ask fellow hunter Sam Winchester for help. Despite having a broken arm, Sam agrees to help you. But, just as he’s about to head out and meet you, Dean tells him that he’ll take his place and help instead.

Chapter Word Count: 1.8k

Chapter Warnings: Cursing (2x), Age Gap (15 years), Sexual tension, Asshole Cop & Sassy!Reader

Authors Note: A prequel series to the Old Man Universe (OMU) on how Dean and reader met | Takes place a few days after Dean is cured from being a demon in 2016 (please read this post for reasonings why it’s 2016, not 2014) | A little bit of a shorter part | As always, thoughts are in italics and the "POV's" switch between Dean & Reader | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

⋆ The 15 Year Problem Masterlist ⋆

⬸ Go Back & Read Chapter 3

The first night (well, night was a strong word, as when the pair of you ended up finally going to bed, it was close to sunrise) sharing a bed with the older Winchester brother wasn't as awkward as you expected it to be, but the entire time you were afraid to move a muscle, as you didn't want to accidentally roll over and spoon him. But you couldn't help but wonder what he would have done if you did that. What kind of excuse would you have come up with? Would he have believed you?

You kept your back toward him, and from your peripheral, you noticed that he also kept his back toward you. You wondered if he usually slept on his side, or just stuck to that way of sleep in order to give you as much sleeping space as possible.

When you woke, it was almost 9 in the morning; a lot later than when you usually woke when on a case, but you figured you must of needed the sleep because you got four hours instead of your usual two.

You reached out your hand at the empty spot next to you, and it was still slightly warm. You felt a slight sadness, hoping that Dean hadn't left you alone in the motel room. You hoped that he would have waited for you to get up before doing anything. Then again, you didn't completely know how the man operated.

The sound of shower going on made your heart skip a beat, and you felt weirdly giddy knowing that Dean hadn't left you alone in the motel. But as you heard the shower running, you could hear something else coming from the bathroom. Is he...humming? You questioned, and then you smiled, thinking how adorable it was that someone like Dean sung or hummed in the shower.

Rolling onto your back, you looked up at the ceiling for a moment, smiling at the situation. For the first time in a long time, you felt at peace; you were happy. But that happiness and smile quickly faded when reality started to sink in. Dean was not your boyfriend, and he was never going to be. Once this case was done and over with, you'd have to go back to your apartment to your actual boyfriend. A boyfriend who you were planning on breaking up with the moment you stepped past the threshold.

Dean was barely able to get any sleep because of you. Not because you were tossing and turning, but because of how close you were to him and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. You were barely a foot away from him, and all he wanted to do was reach out and touch you; bringing you close to his chest and feel your skin against his. He wanted more than anything to just stroke your cheek and give you a forehead kiss. Maybe when the case was done and over with, he could somehow find an excuse to hug you at least.

He needed to stop with the fantasies of you and him together. It was never going to happen. You were never going to actively choose to be with him, or someone like him. Maybe if he wasn't a hunter, then maybe he would of had a chance with you. Then again, if he wasn't a hunter, maybe he would have never met you in the first place. That's when he started debating with himself about whether or not meeting you was the best thing to happen to him in a while or the worst thing to happen to him in a while.

Dean sighed, shutting off the water as he prepared himself to face you this morning. He was lucky when he woke up, because you were still sound asleep next to him. You were completely curled up, and you looked so peaceful.

The ride to the police station was quick, yet painful, as he was in another confined space with you. Your perfume or whatever you wore that smelt citrusy and woodsy at the same time kept hitting his nose throughout the drive. At one point, he held his breath so he couldn't smell you, because you smelt absolutely intoxicating to him. The urge to pull over and kiss you kept hitting him.

But that was not the only part of the drive that was torture for him. During the drive, you sang along to whatever music he had playing: Zeppelin, AC/DC, Johnny Cash, you name it. You knew every single word to every single song that he played. Did Sam put you up to this somehow to make him feel better after months and months of being a demon? He shook that thought quickly out of his head, as you being a siren made the most sense to him. Then again, Sam did like to fuck with him sometimes...

Out of nowhere, you turned to him, a soft smile on your lips. "So, I was thinking, after we go talk to some of the cops and hopefully get some files at the station, we go back to that diner and actually have a sit down meal together?" You asked. The question you asked him was so innocent, but yet, he sensed a slight romantic intention behind it. Were you flirting with him? No, you couldn't have. You were dating someone and you were 15 years younger than him; there was no chance that you were. But in order to survive, he needed to say no, as much as he wanted to say yes.

"Sure," he said, and mentally cursed at himself.

"Awesome," you said, keeping that same soft smile on your lips. You turned back to the window and looked out, resting your chin on your hand as you continued to quietly hum to Deep Purple.

"Hi, I'm Special Agent Shaw, and this is my partner Special Agent Hanniger. We're here in regard to the three murder victims you've had in the last month," you stated, both you and Dean flashing your respective badges.

The officer looked at you and Dean a few times, before a confused look formed on his face. "Aren't you a little young looking to be a federal agent ma'am? You look to be jailbait to me," he said, half chuckling to himself.

All you wanted to do was roll your eyes at this jailbait comment, and reprimand him to making such a comment, but you had to keep your composure. Unfortunately, this was not the first time you had heard such a comment, and it probably wouldn't be your last.

Out of your peripheral, you noticed that Dean was about to speak, but you quickly started talking, as you felt defending yourself would sound better coming from you, than him. "Why thank you Officer. I really appreciate that comment, because I can tell that my skin care routine is really doing wonders. But, just so you're aware, the minimum age to be a Special Agent is 23, and since I first applied when I was 23, and have been a Special Agent for the past five years, I am not what you call jailbait by any means. You can even ask my partner here, as he's been my partner all five of these years."

You flashed the officer a smile, the kind of smile you gave people to let them know that you were not going to be dealing with their bullshit. Silence fell between the three of you, and out of your peripheral, you could see Dean smirking, like he was impressed by you. "Whenever you're ready, we'd like to see those case files," you said.

"Um, right, right. Uh, this way Miss...I mean, Agent. Agent," the officer said, stumbling over his words, embarrassed by the confrontation that he probably wasn't expecting from someone like you.

Dean couldn't help but experience such an intense amount of joy in the way you spoke to the officer; as he couldn't have been more proud. There was a part of him that wanted to give you a pat on the back or give a thumbs up, followed by a 'that's my girl,' but he knew he couldn't do that. You weren't his girl; you weren't his anything.

“This is Special Agents Shaw and Hanniger,” the officer said, introducing you and Dean to the coroner. The officer looked at the two of you again. “Jones here can answer any questions you have,” he said, directing his comment to you and smiling.

“Thank you,” you said nodding, as the officer headed back up the stairs, leaving you, Dean, and the coroner alone in the basement.

“Special Agents?” Jones questioned, placing his pen down on his desk. “Why does the FBI have an interest in these cases? They’re pretty cut and dry.”

“If they’re so cut and dry, why haven’t you released a cause of death yet to the public?” You questioned.

The coroner sighed. “We’re trying not to worry the public by releasing the causes,” he explained. But you weren’t taking that as an answer, as you felt that there was a deeper reasoning behind it.

“Meaning?” Dean asked, joining the conversation.

“I’m assuming the both of you read my reports,” Jones said, eyeing the two of you. You did, but you weren’t sure if Dean had the chance to glance at them at all before he switched places with Sammy.

“Yes, but your files didn’t have a whole lot of detail to them,” you stated.

“Not much I can write when the cause of death is something that’s completely unnatural for the body to do,” Jones said. “How do you explain to three separate families, that their loved ones had all of their blood drained from their bodies with no forced entry, no signs of a struggle, and no markings to indicate where the blood was drained from? If you know, I’d love to hear it.”

“Can we see the bodies?” You asked, and the coroner shook his head. “No?”

“They’ve already been cremated,” he said, almost sounding disappointed.

“Already? It’s an open serial murder investigation and the last murder happened not even three days ago.” You found it strange that there was not even one body that you and Dean could examine for yourselves.

“Although we have no leads, we wanted to give the families closure,” Jones explained. “Or do you not believe in closure Agent Shaw?”

“I do. But I’m not sure how you expect us to help you, when we don’t even have a single body to look at to see if you missed anything.” You were starting to become frustrated, annoyed at the coroner, even though you knew he was just trying to do his job — even if it was a lousy one.

You took a deep breath, and Dean took that as his cue to continue the conversation. “Can you give us copies of the autopsies you performed?”

“Yes, I can make copies for you,” Jones said, getting up from his desk. “The witness statements as well?”

“We’ll take anything that’ll be useful in finding a possible lead,” Dean said, and Jones nodded, leaving the room so he could retrieve copies of the reports.

Once the coroner left, you turned to Dean, slightly sighing. “I could really go for a beer right about now. How about you?”

⤑ Move Forward & Read Chapter 5 (Not yet available)

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gyllenhaalstories · 3 days

Text

BODIES IN THE SAND — ELWOOD DALTON 🎂

summary: it’s your birthday and dalton wanted to make it special.

warnings: eating, mostly fluff & smut (making out, thigh riding). 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 2730

gifs credits: me @/gyllenhaalstories / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: today is my birthday and i am, for the fourth year in a row, making it everyone’s problem with a (very boring) self indulgent fic. 🎈 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

The dock master waved at you when you passed by. You did not leave him enough time to repeat his speech about watching out for the damn crocs like a broken record. You had visited the Glass Key Marina so many times since meeting Dalton, one could think the old man would spare you the lecture. Whatever. This time, you ignored him. You stormed towards the wooden pier on a mission.

Dalton, now confident in Billy and Reef's abilities to handle the unruly patrons on their own (if they remembered to lift with their knees), allowed himself a night off from time to time. The pay as the bouncer of the roadhouse supported him plenty anyway. He did not splurge much, judging by the fishing box overflowing with stacks of cash. When he did spend his money, he would buy all the books Charlie recommended to him or he would treat you to his new favourite food, conch chowder.

You were usually the first person to know about his sporadic vacations, except for today. You drove to the roadhouse and Laura greeted you with a perplexed smile as to why you were there without Dalton. Frankie walked down the stairs from her office and expressed the same level of confusion. "Dalton called, said he's sick. I think the boat dreams are getting to him. Took him long enough." She explained before helping her employees to get the bar ready for another night. Dalton, sick? You stormed out of the bar with the same determination that made you beeline to The Boat.

"There you are." Dalton, who sat on the railing of the boat, stood up and turned around to greet you. The look on your face, painted with surprise, satisfied him, it was worth spending the entire afternoon decorating his corner of the marina. "Happy birthday."

You stood on a creaky wood plank and took in the scene. Orange balloons matched the colours of the sky as the early sunset reflected on the water. There were garlands and streamers, basically anything that could make the dock look festive. You scoffed at the Happy Thanksgiving banner attached to the back of the boat that clashed with the rest.

Dalton quickly justified. "I know... 'Was all Charlie could find." He worked on the ribbon of the balloon he had previously secured on the railing and held on it tight. He raised his leg to get off the boat, but you interrupted.

"I appreciate the thought. This looks so..." You spun on your heels and admired the decorations for a few more seconds. "This looks really nice. But that still won't get me to climb on that thing. It's literally sinking." You pointed at the rusty boat that the dock master constantly referred to as a frying pan. You wholeheartedly agreed with the older man.

"It's not sinking." He leaped from the boat to the dock. The tone of his voice failed to convince you. "... Yet." You both nodded in agreement. Not yet. Soon enough, Dalton would be taking a nap with the crocodile.

You let him come to you.

He tilted his head, eyes squinting at you. "You know, those little footsteps of yours sounded furious. Everything okay?" He clenched his jaw, already bracing up for bad news. It was all he seemed to attract: bad news.

"I should be asking you! Are you okay? I went to the bar and Frankie said you were sick."

"I don't get sick." He shook his head lightly.

"Then why did she tell me that?"

"Oh, I asked her to." He marked a pause, as if that was enough information. You pressed him to grant you with more details. "I thought it was a good excuse." There was a hint of pride in his grin.

"A good excuse that worried me a lot." Your attempt at reprimanding him failed miserably, especially when his grin widened while he stepped closer to you.

Dalton carefully tied the ribbon of the balloon around your right wrist. He then flicked the balloon, watching it bop. "Charlie and I have been planning this for a little while. Couldn't find a proper banner in time." His chin pointed at the Thanksgiving wishes.

"You can say something cheesy to make up for it." You suggested with a chuckle.

"I'm thankful that you're born?" Although he said it like a question, he was certain in the sincerity behind his words.

"That does the job." You both exchanged a moment of laughter. "Thank you for taking the time to decorate for my birthday."

"There's more." He guided you off the dock and through the makeshift path to the beach, always hovering a hand over your lower back to make sure he would be quick to react if you fell.

You let Dalton walk by the shore. Although you did not mind feeling the water run over your feet and ankles, he had insisted enough times that it was safer for you to stay on the other side. So you just let him do what he wanted. Your hand brushed over his a few times and you caught sight of the smirk on his lips.

He also noticed your head was turned towards the water so he pulled you to stand in front of him. He lost no time to hold your hand when you reached behind to grab his. Dalton mouthed a quiet wow when he took in just how beautiful you looked with the pink sunset sky.

Things were simple with Dalton. He did not talk much about what lead him to Glass Key, but you learned enough snippets of his life to know he wanted things to remain this way: simple. He liked the way you weaved yourself through the routine he built since working at the roadhouse. You'd visit before work, at work, after... You would hang out at the bookstore with Charlie, you would sit by the bar with Laura. It all felt simple. He did not hide his appreciation for the time you shared. He showed honesty in his intentions with you when a kiss turned into a lot more one too many times. Plenty of whispered praises, plenty of love filled gazes. You took it one day at a time with Dalton. And today was a special day in more ways than one.

Dalton bumped against you when you stopped walking abruptly at the sight of the makeshift picnic set up. Beach towels laid on the sand and held in place by a bunch of rocks and a pretty conch shell. It looked a little funky but he knew you could not care less. "After my first shift at the bar, Frankie told me this whole sales pitch about the place." He let go of your hand so you could wander towards the beach towels. "She said this was a beautiful spot to have a drink with someone special." Frankie was talking about the roadhouse, not the beach at the back of the marina but... It was close enough.

"She must be right." You sat down on the towel, Dalton joined you. He attempted to say something else, but the balloon floating in the evening breeze distracted him. You watched him intently as he untied the ribbon from your wrist and attached it to the handle of the cooler.

You exchanged a smile and enjoyed more of the sunset. You wondered to yourself how people could live in a beautiful place such as this and forget to pay attention. How could someone get used to a view like this? You certainly could never. You knew Dalton felt the same.

And Dalton knew what you were thinking about. He had travelled quite a bit, both for work and to escape it. He faced the same reflection time after time. "I don't know." He broke the silence, answering your unspoken question. "Maybe they don't have the right person by their side to remind them to appreciate the moment."

"I like the sound of that." You shifted closer to him and his hand slid along your lower back to find its place on your hip. "It's romantic."

"Wait 'til you hear about what I baked for your birthday..." He let out a small grunt when he stretched his arm towards the cooler to pull it closer.

"You can bake?"

"Nope." He opened the cooler and tilted in your direction. "But Charlie can." Kind of. He let you take a peak inside to admire the cupcakes that he prepared with the teenager and with Stephen on supervision duty.

You found it so endearing how he formed a bond with Charlie. Dalton even grew to like her comparisons to western novels and cowboy boots wearing broody heroes. You leaned in to admire the desserts and chuckled at the sight. "They're all squished."

"Shit." Dalton whispered at the sight of the dozen of misshapen cupcakes. He pulled out the tray and set it on the beach towel. He selected one that sort of held its shape during the transport from Charlie and Stephen's house to the beach. "I swear, I frosted them all nice for you." He grinned apologetically.

You grabbed the cupcake from his hand and took a bite. You swallowed thickly and tried to contain a funny face. "These are..."

"Burnt as hell." He stole a bite from the same cupcake and grimaced. He looked down at the rest of the desserts and began to explain that he was sorry, that he really tried to make your birthday special.

You interrupted him with a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "There was frosting." It was not entirely false, but you hoped this would stop the train of thoughts.

He still looked unsure, he worried that he had messed up.

So you kissed him again, on the same spot. You would usually let him lead and make the the first move so he would not feel trapped, but you wanted to reassure him. "Spending time with you is a nice gift on its own. So this?" You gestured around you. "This is great. And this." You held his head in your hands for a few moments, waiting for his lips to curl into a smile. "It's all I need to have a good time."

The smile stayed glued on his face even when you pulled away. You reached for the cupcake again and Dalton took it from your hand to put it back on the tray, slamming the cooler shut for good.

"You can't waste the cupcakes, you worked so hard to bake them for me." You would have eaten a couple of the sweets had he not stopped you, you wanted Dalton to know you liked the gesture.

"Then the crocodile can have them." You nodded, agreeing with his idea.

"Maybe he'll spare you for another night."

The sound of yours and Dalton's laughter blended together as one. "That's exactly what I was thinking." He replied.

"I know I just said I'm having a good time, but..." You crawled to kneel between his legs. You sat back, keeping a safe distance to let Dalton decide. "We can make it even better."

He considered the implications of your offer. Now, he felt like he was the one being celebrated. You were a real treat, kneeling before him with a gaze he had seen many times before. You wanted more... You wanted him. Dalton leaned in, glancing between your eyes and your lips.

You let him come closer until your mouths met in a gentle kiss, mirroring what you did moments ago.

His nose brushed against yours while he left you longing for another kiss. The small nod of his head told you everything you needed to know.

You erased the distance completely and kissed him again with your head tilted to the side.

Dalton's fingertips caressed along your arms and guided you to wrap them around his neck. He deepened the kiss when he felt one of your hands cradling the back of his head.

You hummed when his hands began to explore your body. The gentle touching up and down your back grew in eagerness.

Dalton's hands gripped firmly on your hips, pulling you closer. He placed a hand under your thigh and positioned you how he wanted. He took it slow, one step at a time. His hand travelled back up to the curve of your ass that he squeezed a little bit harsher than you expected.

The whimper you let out only encouraged him to keep going while his feverish touches fuelled you to take this further. Your tongue traced his lips before he parted his mouth open.

Your tongues danced together while he let go of you briefly to unbutton his shirt. Immediately after, your hands were all over him. Your fingertips followed the shape of his collarbone down to the curve of his pecs to end on the valley between his abs. You printed each and every detail of Dalton in your mind.

Your loving touch spread goosebumps on his skin, or perhaps it was the breeze getting cooler. The sunset reached its last instants, the sun appeared to be swallowed by the ocean far beyond the horizon. The marina was peaceful, but not quiet. Soft whimpers and grunts filled the silence as the waves slowly hit the sand.

You paused to catch your breath, Dalton could not take his eyes off your kiss swollen lips. "Wanna make you feel good." He whispered against your lips before leaning in again to let his tongue invade your mouth. His hands rested on your hips, squeezing the flesh and making your body move back and forth.

You ached from the lack of direct contact with him, you needed to feel him. But, again, you wanted to respect how far he seemed willing to go.

So he put his words into actions. Dalton made you straddle his thigh, trying to adjust the best he could to make sure you were comfortable. With his hands on your ass again, he began to make you grind on him. At first the movements were tentative, he let you adjust to the friction between your core and the clothes. But when you moaned at his ear, he could no longer hold back.

You rocked your hips back and forth, succumbing to the ever-growing hunger for more. More of this heated intimacy, more of Dalton's warm skin on yours... More.

Every time a door opened, Dalton closed it by repeating that you were a nice person, that you did not want to know him in that way, that you did not want to get close to him.

Yet, you waited. You showed him you had all the patience in the world for him. You showed that you were not out to get him, that you simply wanted to make Dalton feel good too.

You succeeded. The more you waited and reassured him that you would respect his boundaries, the more Dalton wanted to explore what lied beyond those limits.

"I don't want to stop." You murmured at his ear, trailing kisses from his ear and along his jaw until your lips connected again.

"I don't wanna stop either." His grip tightened on your hips, forcing you to slow down. "But since you refuse to get on the boat with me..."

You remained categorical, he would never convince you to step foot in that death trap. "We can go back to my place."

"Oh yeah?" Dalton kept you immobile, pressed down on his thigh. Your whine of complaint sounded like music to his ears. "You think you can wait that long?" It was quite the drive between the beach and your home. If either of you had the genuine intention to leave, you would have done in a while ago. "I'm not too sure about that."

You scoffed at his assumption. "Can you wait?"

Dalton answered your question by capturing your lips with his in a rough kiss. He slowly, carefully, helped you to lay on your back. He guided your legs apart to make space, his gaze meeting yours while his hands caressed your thighs. He let the tension build, he needed you to give him one more sign that you wanted this just as much as he did. When your hips bucked forward, your body pressing more against his, he grinned. "I've waited long enough."

#jake gyllenhaal #elwood dalton #jake gyllenhaal smut #elwood dalton smut #jake gyllenhaal imagine #elwood dalton imagine #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #elwood dalton x reader #jake gyllenhaal x reader #elwood dalton fanfic

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samandcolbyownme · 2 days

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jake and girlfriend reader where they’ve been together for awhile now and he gets a tattoo of her bite mark?

Bite Me | Jake Webber

Warnings: biting, mentions of needles and other things related to tattooing, mainly fluff

Word Count: 619

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

“You never told me what tattoo you were getting, J.”

Jake glances back at you from the tattoo chair, “It’s a surprise.” You roll your eyes with a laugh, “Oh, I see. Alright.”

You walk up to stand next to him, watching as the artist finishes setting up his station.

Jake rests his arm on the arm rest, laying his head back as the cap of his shoulder gets prepped. You go to sit back down, but Jake reaches out, “Don’t go far, babe, you’ll be needed in a second.”

“Needed?” You question, walking back over, “For what?”

The artist lays a piece of clear wrap on Jake and gives him a thumbs up.

Jake looks up at you, “Bite me.”

“Bite you?” You laugh, “What do you mean?”

“I’m getting your bite mark tattooed on me.”

Your jaw drops slightly, “Are you serious?”

Jake nods his head, “I am.” He smiles, laughing, “Now come on! Do it!”

“You’re going to want to bite kind of hard, enough to get the marks to stay so I can map them out, ya know?” The artist says as you walk around, and you nod, “Okay.”

You take a deep breath, pulling your hair back as you bend down, “Like right.. here?” You point and Jake nods, “Yeah, that’s perfect, babe.”

You smirk, shaking your head before you open your mouth and sink your teeth into the plastic wrap on his skin.

Jake watches, taking a deep breath as you stand back up straight, “Good?”

His eyes move from you to his shoulder and he nods, “Fuck yeah.”

You walk back over to the other side, pulling up the chair and sitting next to Jake, “I see why you kept this from me.”

He laughs slightly, “I was afraid you’d say no.”

“Jake. I have your initials you drew, tattooed under my boob, why would I say no to this?” You laugh, “I think it’s kind of hot.”

“Yeah?” Jake smirks and glances over as the needle runs over your teeth marks, “I can agree, probably my favorite tattoo ever.”

“You’re just saying that.” You roll your eyes, giving him a smirk. He sighs, tilting his head, “Am I?”

You slide your hand to his and squeeze, “No, I know you’re not.” You smile and lean over to see, “It actually looks really sick.” You nod, “I think that might be my new favorite one, too.”

The tattoo didn’t take long at all. Once he was finished, Jake walks over and checks it out in the mirror, “Sick as hell.” He pulls his phone up to take a picture of it, “Okay, now y/n, come here.”

You walk over and he spins around, holding his phone up to take a selfie of you, his tattoo, and him.

“Thank you so much, dude.” Jake gives the artists a fist bump and he nods, “Anytime, Webber. You know you’re my favorite client.”

“See, now he’s just saying that.” Jake laughs, “Nah, I’ll be back for sure.”

Your eyes glance at Jake’s tattoo and you tilt your head, “What if.. I got one of yours?” You look up at Jake’s face as he spins around, “Huh?”

“Yeah, like, on my hip or something?”

You can tell the wheels in Jake’s brain were turning as he tried his best to keep himself.. calm, “Now that.. would be hot.”

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Thank you so much for reading! I love you so much! Catch you in the next one!

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

#samandcolby-ownme #Jake Webber #Jake Webber blurb #Jake Webber snippet #snippet #snippets #Jake Webber x reader #Jake Webber x you #Jake Webber fluff #Jake Webber tattoos #jake webber x reader fluff #jake webber fanfic #Jake Webber one shot #Jake Webber one shots #fluff Jake Webber

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atzaurora · 11 hours

Text

[˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗] 𝒞𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒯𝒉𝒆 𝒮𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒎.﹙정우영﹚(1.8k)

𖥔 fem!reader x wooyoung ; dating ⸼જ A rainy night in with Wooyoung turns into a heated game of control and desire, where boundaries are tested and passions flare, proving that some temptations are impossible to resist... ➤ imagine (smut) .ᐟ.ᐟ 18+/smut content, MDNI!!!, unprotected sex, bdsm elements, light bondage (use of restraints), dom/sub dynamics, rough sex, m & f receiving .ᐟ.ᐟ

꒰🖇꒱ it's freaky but I'm so here for it tbh >.< enjoyyy

if you have any ideas or wishes let me know, requests are open

here's my [𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕]! ; [𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕] here! ; [about me] + [guidelines]!

reblogs appreciated

"Come on, just one bite," Wooyoung coaxed, his eyes gleaming with a playful challenge as he held out the slice of spicy pizza.

You giggled, playfully slapping his hand away. "You know I hate spicy food."

"But it’s not that bad, I promise," he persisted, a teasing grin pulling at the corners of his lips. His eyes sparkled with amusement, clearly enjoying your resistance. ── ࣪˖ MORE BELOW

It was a rare night off for both of you, a much-needed break from your hectic schedules. You had ordered takeout, and the cozy hum of an old movie played in the background, its soft soundtrack merging with the rhythmic drumming of rain against the windows. The rain grew louder, setting a soothing cadence that filled the room, wrapping the two of you in a blanket of calm.

Despite the cozy atmosphere, a chill from the storm outside seeped into the apartment, making you shiver slightly. The thin clothes you were wearing weren’t much help against the cold. Noticing, Wooyoung leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, "I’ve got a good idea for how we can warm up."

A shiver ran down your spine, not from the cold, but from the teasing lilt in his voice. You met his gaze, a spark of curiosity mingling with the growing tension between you. He took your hand, and with a gentle tug, led you to the bedroom. The anticipation between you both was palpable, the air thick with unspoken desires.

In the dim light of the bedroom, Wooyoung playfully nudged you onto the bed, his hands landing on your waist with a gentle but insistent grip. You let out a soft giggle, pushing him away teasingly as he leaned in to steal a kiss.

"What’s gotten into you tonight?" you asked, your voice low and teasing, the tone mirroring the tension that had been simmering all evening.

He flashed you a grin, his eyes darkening with unmistakable desire. "I just can’t get enough of you," he admitted, his words a mix of sincerity and lust.

You smirked, a mischievous glint dancing in your eyes as you slid off the bed and sauntered over to the nightstand. "Is that so?" you challenged, pulling open the drawer with a flourish. From inside, you retrieved a set of velvety restraints, holding them up for him to see. "I think it’s time for a little role reversal."

Wooyoung’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, but the excitement in them was unmistakable. He had never seen this side of you, and the prospect intrigued him.

"Trust me," you purred, your voice dripping with seduction as you approached him. Slowly, you began to tie his wrists to the headboard, securing them with just the right amount of pressure—not too tight, but enough to make sure he wasn’t going anywhere. "You’re going to love this."

Wooyoung’s pulse quickened as the restraints tightened around his wrists. Being tied up wasn’t something he had ever imagined doing, but for you, he was willing to explore anything. His eyes followed your every move as you sauntered back to the nightstand, your hips swaying with an air of confidence that only heightened his anticipation.

You pulled out a sleek, lifelike dildo from the drawer, its surface glinting under the low light. Wooyoung’s breath hitched at the sight, a low, almost inaudible groan escaping his lips as his cock twitched in his pants. He already knew what you had in mind.

"I’ve been waiting to use this," you murmured, trailing the toy along your inner thigh. The coolness of it sent a ripple of goosebumps over your skin, and Wooyoung’s eyes darkened with want, his breath shallow as he watched you with rapt attention.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, unable to look away. "What are you planning?" he asked, his voice rough with curiosity and desire.

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you flashed him a wicked smile, sliding off your clothes with deliberate slowness, knowing full well that Wooyoung’s patience was wearing thin. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, the intensity of it making your skin tingle with excitement.

Once bare, you positioned the dildo at your entrance, teasing him as much as yourself. His body tensed, his restraints holding him firmly in place, though his eyes betrayed the wild need brewing inside him.

"You’re going to watch," you commanded, your voice sultry, the low timbre sending a thrill through him. "And you’re not moving until I say so."

Without breaking eye contact, you slowly pushed the toy inside yourself, a soft moan escaping your lips as the sensation washed over you. Wooyoung’s gaze was locked on the sight before him, his breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts as you began to move the toy in and out, your pleasure evident in every subtle shift of your expression.

He clenched his fists, testing the restraints, but they held firm. "It’s not fair," he murmured, his voice thick with frustration. "I want to be the one making you feel like that."

Your lips curled into a smug smile as you met his gaze, your eyes gleaming with challenge. "Patience, darling," you cooed, the honey-sweet tone of your voice dripping with teasing. "Your turn will come."

Each thrust of the toy drove Wooyoung closer to the edge of his restraint. He could feel the heat pooling in his body, the desperate need to touch you, to claim you, becoming almost unbearable. Every moan that fell from your lips only added to his frustration, his desire to be the one bringing you to the brink overwhelming.

"You’re so beautiful," he breathed, his voice hoarse as he watched you, his eyes heavy with lust. "But nothing compares to the real thing."

You smirked, your pace quickening as the sound of the dildo sliding in and out of you filled the room, mixing with the soft patter of rain against the window. "You think you can do better?" you taunted, your voice thick with pleasure. "Prove it."

Something in Wooyoung snapped. His control shattered as he growled, "I will. I’ll make you scream my name until you can’t take it anymore."

The promise in his voice sent a pulse of heat through your body, but you didn’t let it distract you. You continued to pleasure yourself, bringing yourself closer and closer to the edge, all while watching the agony of desire play across Wooyoung’s face.

When you finally felt your release approaching, you whispered, "Now."

In one swift move, you untied one of his wrists, and in an instant, Wooyoung was on you. He pulled you onto his lap, his mouth crashing against yours in a searing kiss. His hands gripped your hips tightly, the desperation in his touch palpable as he pulled your body flush against his.

He didn’t waste any time, tossing the dildo aside and replacing it with his own hard length. You moaned into his mouth as he filled you completely, the sensation of him stretching you sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

This was what you had been waiting for—the moment when he would remind you why no toy could ever compare to him. As he began to move, his hips thrusting into you with a fierce passion, you knew he was going to keep his promise.

Wooyoung’s movements were urgent, driven by his need to show you just how much better he could make you feel. Each thrust was precise, his hips moving in a rhythm that had you seeing stars.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, holding onto him as he brought you to new heights of ecstasy. The rain outside seemed to intensify, the sound of it mingling with your moans and his grunts, creating a symphony of raw, primal desire.

"You’re mine," he murmured against your skin, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh of your neck. "Always."

You could only nod, your voice stolen by the waves of pleasure crashing over you. Every movement, every word, sent you spiraling higher, lost in the intensity of his claim.

Suddenly, Wooyoung flipped you over onto your back, positioning himself above you. He hooked your legs over his shoulders, the new angle allowing him to thrust even deeper inside you, each movement sending shockwaves through your entire body.

Your hands clutched at the bedsheets, desperate for something to ground you as Wooyoung’s lips trailed over your skin, leaving a burning path in their wake. The tension in his body was building, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more desperate.

"Cum for me," he demanded, his voice thick with desire.

And with that, you fell apart, your orgasm tearing through you like lightning. Your body trembled beneath him, every nerve ending alight with pleasure.

Wooyoung didn’t stop, his own release only moments behind. He continued to drive into you, his eyes never leaving yours, until finally, with a low groan, he reached his peak. His body trembled as he emptied himself inside you, his release filling you completely.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still, the only sound the soft patter of rain and the heavy breathing that filled the room. Wooyoung collapsed beside you, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath.

"I’ll never let you tie me up again," he said with a laugh, his voice still shaky from the afterglow of pleasure. He wiped a hand over his forehead, brushing away the beads of sweat that had gathered during your intense session. His grin was lazy but playful, eyes sparkling with mischief as he turned his head to look at you.

You shifted onto your side, a smug smile pulling at your lips. "Is that a promise or a threat?" you teased, trailing your fingertips lightly over his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. His skin was warm beneath your touch, and you could feel the aftereffects of the raw energy between you lingering in the air.

Wooyoung just chuckled again, the sound rumbling through his chest as he pulled you closer, his arms winding around your body to hold you tightly against him. "Maybe both," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his lips soft but lingering. "It was torture having to watch without getting to touch you... Your body is too beautiful to just sit back and not be able to do anything about it."

You giggled, snuggling deeper into his embrace, feeling the comfort of his strong arms around you. "But it was worth it, wasn’t it?" you whispered, snuggling into his embrace. "Because now, I know you're not just all talk."

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "And you're not just all tease."

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aevari · 13 hours

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Hiya! My comms are open again and this time...

I'm looking for Dragon Age OCs to draw!

I'm really excited about the game (I need to buy VG still lol) so I really want to dedicate this batch to some DA ocs! Your beautiful Wardens, Champions, Inquisitors, Rooks.. maybe even with their romance companions... I want them all! 🥺🤲 Form is only open for a short time as this will ideally be a small batch. I'd like to have these done before the release of Veilguard but we'll see how much interest this gets!

Interested?: >> COMMISSION FORM << 🚩 Form closes Sunday, September 22nd @ 3PM EST 🚩 More examples on my socials + website.

Feel free to reach out via DM/ask if you have any questions or might be seeking something not shown here.

Reblogs would be super appreciated to spread word! Thank you so much!! 🫶

#commissions #commission open #dragon age #sorry 2 put this in the main tag but !! i am trying to do a DA themed comm batch so :') hopefully any lurkers are interested!#dragon age origins #dragon age inquisition #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age 2 #YES AND DRAW YOUR ROOKS TOO. I forgot to add that when I initially posted but I edited it in lmao. <3

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kckt88 · 2 days

Text

A Heartbeat Between Us III

Summary:

Aemond and Y.N attend a scan for their baby and arguements ensue when Alys and Jace reappear.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Arguing, Discussion of Past Trauma, Swearing, Threat of Violence, Mild Jealousy, Allusions to Sex.

AEMOND x Y.N

Word Count: 6454

A.N - Bit of a filler chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Y.N. stirred as the soft rustling of clothes caught her attention. Her eyes fluttered open, catching sight of Aemond standing at the edge of the bed, already half-dressed, pulling on his shirt in the early morning light.

"What time is it?" she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

Aemond glanced at her, buttoning his shirt. "6 a.m.," he replied, smoothing his collar. "I need to head home and shower before work." He walked over, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her forehead. "Go back to sleep."

Y.N. blinked a few times, shaking her head. "No, I need to get up too. I have a book restoration to finish for a client," she said, stretching her arms above her head.

Aemond paused for a moment, looking at her with concern. "Is that safe for the baby?"

Y.N. gave him a reassuring smile. "I wear a mask and gloves. It should be fine."

He nodded, clearly still thinking it over but trusting her judgment. "Thanks for letting me stay last night," he said quietly, brushing a lock of hair away from her face.

"It's okay," she smiled back, her eyes soft.

Aemond leaned in and kissed her lips, a lingering gesture that seemed reluctant to let go. "Make sure you have a healthy breakfast," he murmured as he pulled back.

Y.N. mockingly saluted him. "Yes, sir."

Something shifted in Aemond at her words, a flash of heat lighting up in his eye. He leaned closer, his forehead resting against hers, the air between them suddenly thick with tension.

"You’d do well to listen to me," he whispered, his voice low, laced with intent. "Or I’ll have to punish you."

Y.N. giggled softly, clearly enjoying the playful edge to his words. "I might like it, Daddy."

The growl that came from Aemond was deep and possessive. He claimed her mouth with a fierce kiss, laying her back down on the bed as his body pressed over hers, the heat between them flaring back to life.

"I'm going to be late" muttered Aemond torn between desire and responsibility as the covers slipped revealing Y.N’s naked body.

Y.N. bit her lip, an apologetic smile tugging at the corners. "Sorry."

Aemond smirked wickedly, his eye dark with lust. "Don't be." He kissed her again, his hands moving quickly to undo his trousers, freeing his hard cock.

"I thought you were going to be late?" teased Y.N

Aemond glanced down at her bare body, his hunger for her consuming any fleeting thought of punctuality.

"It’s worth it," he growled, as he took his cock in hand and sheathed himself inside her in a single thrust.

Y.N. burst through the door of the bookstore, cheeks flushed and slightly out of breath.

“I’m so sorry I’m late!” she called out, her words spilling out in a rush.

For all the worrying about Aemond being late this morning, it ended up being her who was running behind.

Damn him and his big cock.

Luckily, Aemond had dropped her off, so she wasn’t that late, but still.

She didn’t like showing up behind schedule, especially with so much work to do. Wasting no time, Y.N. headed straight to the back room where her restoration materials were waiting.

She slipped on her gloves and mask with practiced ease, feeling a sense of calm settle over her as she focused on the task at hand.

The book in front of her was old, its cover worn, pages delicate from years of handling. She’d been commissioned to restore it by a client who cherished it, and she felt the weight of that responsibility.

The process was time-consuming and required precision—every movement measured; every touch careful. But there was something so satisfying about it. Bringing an old, damaged book back to life, piece by piece, always filled her with pride.

A couple of hours passed in a quiet blur, Y.N. so absorbed in her work that she almost forgot the time. She was just about to take a break when her phone buzzed on the worktable beside her.

It was a message from Helaena: ‘Lunch at the café round the corner? xoxo’

Y.N. smiled and texted back a quick, ‘Yes, see you in ten xx’, before tidying up her workstation. She placed the restored pages back into their protective covers, wiped down her tools, and slipped off her gloves.

With a final glance at her progress, she grabbed her coat and headed out the door, eager to catch up with Helaena and unwind a little over lunch.

Y.N. spotted Helaena waiting by the café entrance, her blonde hair blowing softly in the breeze.

Helaena's face lit up the moment she saw her, and Y.N. couldn't help but smile back. As she approached, Helaena reached out, gently taking Y.N.'s hand in hers, guiding her inside.

They found a cozy table by the window, the soft hum of chatter around them as they settled in.

After ordering drinks—a coffee for Helaena and a fruit smoothie for Y.N.—Helaena busied herself with the menu, eyes scanning the options. Y.N., on the other hand, had already decided on her favourite: a jacket potato with tuna, cheese, and, of course, a side of pickles with Helaena eventually settling on a Caesar salad.

As they waited for their food, the conversation shifted to work. Helaena talked about the flower shop she owned just down the street, mentioning how autumn was bringing in new customers.

It was comforting, chatting about the mundane, but Helaena soon changed the topic with a knowing smile.

“So,” Helaena began casually, “-How are things going with Aemond?”

Y.N. nearly choked on her smoothie, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “Uh, well-I’m not sure what’s going on, honestly,” she admitted, feeling the heat rush to her cheeks.

Helaena leaned forward; her gaze soft yet knowing. “Is it because you two keeping having sex? Or is it because you're pregnant?”

Y.N. froze, her eyes widening. “H-How do you know?”

Helaena smiled warmly. “Aemond called me this morning,” she explained. “Don’t worry, he didn’t say much. Just that there's something between you two and that you’re pregnant.”

Blushing deeper, Y.N. asked hesitantly, “Are you-mad at me? You know, for being with him while he was still with Alys?”

Helaena’s expression softened even more. “Of course not,” she said, shaking her head. “That’s Aemond’s issue, not yours. But if I’m being honest, I always knew something was bound to happen between you two at some point.”

“Really?” Y.N. asked, surprised. “Even back in school when he was-kind of a dick?”

Helaena chuckled lightly, nodding. “Yes, even then. Aemond was dealing with a lot—the loss of his eye, the surgeries, the pain. It was really hard for him. He struggled with his appearance and thought no one would ever love him for the way he looked. But then we became friends, and he really liked you, but he didn’t know how to handle those feelings, so he pushed you away. He’s always felt terrible about how he treated you.”

A tear slipped down Y.N.’s cheek as she listened, and Helaena reached across the table, squeezing her hand gently.

“Just be patient with him,” Helaena said softly.

Y.N. nodded quickly, wiping away her tears just as the food arrived. Helaena laughed as Y.N. immediately dove into the pickles.

“The baby makes me want them,” Y.N. said with a sheepish smile.

Helaena grinned, reaching into her bag. “I know it’s early, but I couldn’t help myself.” She handed Y.N. a small gift bag. Inside was an adorable bib with the words ‘I have a cool auntie’ written across it.

Y.N. laughed, her heart warming. “Thank you, Helaena. It’s so sweet.”

Helaena winked. “No, thank you for having sex with my brother. Now I get to have a niece or nephew to spoil.”

Y.N. rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling at her friend. The two shared a warm moment before tucking into their meals, the worries of the world set aside for now.

Y.N. arrived home, juggling her bag and the stack of mail she’d collected on the way in. She sorted through the envelopes, her eyes catching on one particular letter—the familiar scrawl of Jace’s handwriting on the front.

With a sigh, she tucked it into a drawer, deciding she didn’t have the energy to deal with whatever was inside.

She moved on, opening another envelope, this one from the midwives. It was her appointment letter for the ten-week checkup. The date—October 22nd.

Smiling softly, she grabbed her phone and texted Aemond about the appointment, knowing he’d want to be there. A few minutes later, her phone buzzed with his reply:

‘Thanks for telling me. I’ll be there’.

Y.N smiled as she put her phone down, she then reached down and pulled her shoes off.

“That feels good” muttered Y.N as she headed down the hallway towards the bathroom.

She put the plug in the bath and added a little too much of her rose scented bubble bath, before shedding her clothes and throwing them in the wash basket.

The moment she sank into the warm water, surrounded by bubbles, she let out a contented sigh. The warmth soaked into her muscles, easing her tension. After washing her hair and body, she laid back, closing her eyes.

Her thoughts soon drifted to Aemond and their baby, and she placed a hand on her stomach, wondering about the future.

Would she even be a good mother? The thought stirred something deep within her—she had no real role model to draw from.

Her own mother had abandoned her when she was a toddler, and she never knew her father. Her grandfather, the one who raised her, had passed away just after she’d finished college.

She missed him very much, and the way he would always insist on a cup of tea and a biscuit at 11am whilst he listened to the wireless as he called it, the way he would go for his morning paper at the same time every day, and how he would read a new book every week from the local library as he insisted on keeping his mind active.

Even on the nights when he insisted on having a cheeky glass of whiskey and tonic water, she remembered how he taught her how to count money, and tell the time, the man had the patience of a saint.

He even taught her how to ride a bike and funnily enough how to roller blade, she laughed at the memory of him chasing after her as she went a bit too fast down a hill and fell cutting her knees open.

She then had a thought, that maybe, if the baby was a boy, she could name him after her grandfather.

Suddenly, a knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. Y.N. groaned, stepping out of the bath and wrapping a dressing gown around her. She hurried to the door, praying that it wasn’t Jace.

When she opened it, Aemond stood there, his expression tense. Before she could say anything, he launched himself at her, his arms wrapping around her tightly.

"Aemond?" Y.N. asked, confused, her words muffled against his chest. "What's wrong?"

He pulled back slightly, his eye wide with concern. "Don’t scare me like that again."

"Scare you? What do you mean?"

"I called you a bunch of times, but you didn’t answer,” Aemond explained, his voice tinged with frustration. “I thought something had happened."

Y.N. blinked. "I’m fine. I was just in the bath."

At her words, Aemond visibly relaxed, his grip on her loosening as he let out a breath. "Okay. I just—"

She cut him off with a soft smile, closing the door behind them to keep her nosey neighbours from gawking.

"I’m okay, Aemond. Promise."

As the tension eased, Aemond’s attention shifted around the flat. His eye landed on a stone figure placed on her dining table. He walked over, inspecting it with curiosity.

“What’s this for?” he asked, gesturing to the statue.

“Oh, surely you know that books aren’t the only things I restore,” Y.N. said, stepping up beside him. “That’s a piece for the museum. They asked me to restore it.”

The statue was of a woman, possibly a Greek goddess, though time and neglect had left it damaged. Despite that, the design was still beautiful.

Aemond looked impressed. “That’s amazing”.

“It’s for an exhibition in a few months, so I have to get it done by then.”

“I’m sure you will,” he said confidently, before adding with a smirk, “I didn’t notice it this morning.”

Y.N. laughed. “That’s because it arrived this afternoon.”

Aemond’s smile faded into a look of concern. “Please don’t tell me you carried it from work by yourself.”

She scowled at him playfully. “I’m not some weakling, Aemond.”

“I know, but you’re also pregnant,” he reminded her. “You have to be careful with heavy lifting.”

Y.N. couldn’t help but smile at his protectiveness. “Don’t worry. It was delivered by the museum.”

Satisfied, Aemond took a closer look at the statue, his interest piqued. “I’ve always been fascinated by history.”

“Yeah. I remember how nerdy you were about it back in school,” Y.N. teased.

Aemond chuckled. “You were just as much of a history nerd if I recall.”

She laughed, recalling a memory. “I still remember that time I answered a question before you in class. You were livid.”

Aemond smiled at the memory, his tone mock-serious. “You infuriated me.”

“Well, it made my day,” Y.N. shot back with a grin, “-Finally getting one over on the all-knowing Aemond Targaryen.”

They shared a laugh, the old academic rivalry from school long buried but still amusing. Aemond’s gaze softened as he asked, “Are you working on anything else?”

“Not right now,” she replied. “This piece will take a few weeks. Then I’ll take on something new-”

“I think it’s fascinating” said Aemond.

“W-Would you like to see pictures of the other works I’ve restored?” asked Y.N

“I’d love to” replied Aemond eagerly.

With a nod, Y.N. handed him a thick photo album. Aemond flipped through the pages, marvelling at the before-and-after shots of her work.

His genuine interest made Y.N.’s heart swell. Jace had never shown this kind of enthusiasm for what she did, he just mostly complained.

When Aemond finished, he handed the album back, a thoughtful look on his face. “You ever think about starting your own business?”

“I’ve thought about it,” Y.N. admitted. “But setting up a business can be very expensive, and I don’t want to leave Mr. Howlett in the lurch. He gave me my first job after college.”

Aemond nodded. “I understand, but surely Mr. Howlett would want to see you succeed instead of working in some-dingy store.”

Y.N. crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. “ Hark at Mr. Snooty Pants. If it doesn’t have fifty floors and its own receptionist, it’s not good enough, huh?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Aemond said, exasperated. “I just think—"

“Well, that’s what it sounded like,” she interrupted, her voice rising slightly.

Aemond took a deep breath, steadying himself. “All I meant was that Mr. Howlett probably wants you to do well, wherever that may be.”

Y.N. shrugged, her frustration ebbing. “Doesn’t matter. I can’t afford it. I have student debt, and now, with the baby—”

“I’m helping with the baby, remember?” Aemond reminded her, his voice gentle but firm.

“I know,-” Y.N. replied, her voice softening. “But I’m not a charity case.”

Aemond frowned. “I never said you were. Why are you twisting my words?”

Before he could brace for an argument, Y.N. suddenly burst into tears.

Aemond was startled at first, but then instinctively pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly as she sobbed against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” Y.N. sniffled, her voice muffled by his shirt. “I don’t know why I’m crying. I’ve just been so emotional lately.”

Aemond gently wiped her tears away and cupped her face. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

She gave a watery laugh. “I cried earlier because I ate all the pickles.”

Aemond smiled, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. “I think I might know of a way to make you feel better,” he whispered, leaning in closer, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered something naughty.

Y.N. blushed, her cheeks burning. "Aemond!" she exclaimed, swatting at him playfully, though she couldn’t help but smile.

“So-shall we?” asked Aemond as he offered her his hand.

Y.N playfully hesitated for a moment before she took his hand and followed him to her bedroom.

As Y.N. stood in the lift, she found herself reflecting on the past two weeks. Almost every night had been spent with Aemond at her flat, their evenings filled with conversations about work, shared meals, and a surprising amount of amazing sex.

Sometimes she cooked, and other times Aemond amazed her with his culinary skills. Their nights always ended the same way—the two of them together in bed.

She wasn’t entirely sure what was happening between them, as they’d never discussed it but whatever it was, she liked it. She felt a sense of warmth and connection that she hadn’t anticipated.

The lift dinged, pulling her from her thoughts. She stepped out onto the 20th floor of Targaryen Inc. and approached the receptionist, offering a polite smile.

“I’m here to see Aemond.”

The receptionist returned her smile. “Mr. Targaryen is expecting you.”

Y.N. nodded in thanks and entered Aemond’s office. He was on the phone, clearly in the middle of a heated argument. His eye flicked up when he saw her, and he waved her over to the sofa. She took a seat quietly, trying not to intrude.

“I don’t care!” Aemond's voice was sharp, frustration laced in his tone. “I’m a grown man—you don’t command me!”

Y.N. flinched when he slammed his fist down on the desk, her heart skipping a beat.

“I’m done with this conversation,” Aemond finished, slamming the phone down. He sighed heavily, his expression softening when he turned to her. “Sorry you had to hear that. Just my grandsire trying to tell me what to do.”

Y.N. gave a small smile, though she still felt a bit shaken by his outburst. “Maybe, in some twisted way, he thinks he’s looking out for you.”

Aemond scoffed, shaking his head. “Trust me, in this instance, he’s not.”

She didn't press further, instead changing the subject. “Are you ready for the appointment?”

Aemond nodded eagerly, rising from his chair and pulling on his jacket.

As they left the office, his hand settled on the small of her back, a comforting gesture that made her heart flutter.

They stepped into the empty lift together, and Y.N. giggled quietly when she felt his fingers teasing her side, a mischievous smile tugging at Aemond’s lips.

He leaned in, his breath warm against her skin as he began pressing gentle kisses along her neck.

“-Aemond” gasped Y.N.

Aemond then spun her against the side of the lift and pressed his lips to hers in a slow, passionate kiss. His hands sliding around her body, pulling her close as the kiss deepened.

The lift pinged open on the ground floor, and at the sound of someone loudly clearing their throat, Aemond detached himself from Y.N to see Alys glaring at the two of them.

Aemond's entire demeanour shifted, his hand tightening protectively around Y.N.

“What are you doing here?” Aemond asked, his tone cold.

Alys’s eyes flickered between the two of them before she replied, “I’m here with Larys. He has a meeting with Rhaenyra.”

“Excuse us, but we have an appointment with the midwives” said Aemond his voice was clipped and slightly dismissive, but Alys sneered, her eyes landing on Y.N.

“Oh yes, the child,” she said, her tone laced with contempt.

Y.N. turned to Aemond. “I’ll wait for you outside,” she said, sensing the tension and wanting to avoid a confrontation.

But Alys wasn’t finished. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t leave on my account. You’ve already helped yourself to everything I had, so you may as well take my time as well.”

Aemond’s jaw tightened. “Apologize,” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

Y.N. placed a hand on his arm. “No, it’s fine. Alys has a right to be angry.”

Aemond frowned. “Maybe, but it was me who came onto you.”

Alys let out a bitter laugh, her eyes gleaming with malice. “Oh, and there was me thinking that Y.N. intentionally seduced you and got pregnant.”

Y.N.'s fists clenched at the accusation. “What?”

Alys's voice was dripping with sarcasm. “He’s a Targaryen and he’s wealthy. It’s easy to assume you’d want a child with him, a way to secure a permanent tie to the family name considering you have no family of your own-”

Aemond could see the fury shaking through Y.N. and as she took a step towards Alys, he quickly moved forward, grabbing the back of her coat, to stop her from throwing a punch at Alys.

After a tense pause, Y.N. exhaled sharply. “Not everyone wants Aemond for his money or his name, Alys. I’m not you.”

Alys’s eyes flared with anger. “How dare you—”

“I’m done,” Y.N. said firmly, shaking off Aemond’s hand. “I’m going to wait outside.”

Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving Aemond standing there with Alys.

Aemond turned back to Alys, his expression hard. “If you want to hate someone, then hate me. I’m the one who pursued Y.N., not the other way around. There’s no need to speak to her like that.”

Alys pressed the button to call the lift, her eyes narrowing as she looked at him. “I always knew you had a thing for her,” she said, her voice softening to something almost wistful. “Just surprised it took you this long to act on it.”

Before Aemond could reply, the lift doors slid open, and Alys stepped inside.

The doors closed with a soft thud, leaving Aemond standing alone. He let out a slow breath, collecting himself before heading outside.

He found Y.N. standing by his car, her arms crossed as she stared out into the street. She didn’t look at him when he approached, but she didn’t move away either.

“Y.N-” Aemond started softly, unsure of what to say.

She glanced at him, her expression tired but not angry. “Let’s just get to the appointment.”

Y.N. and Aemond sat in the waiting room of the midwives in complete silence. Ever since their encounter with Alys, Y.N. hadn't spoken a word, her fingers restlessly fiddling with the rings on her hand.

Aemond watched her, feeling awful. He knew that Alys’ insinuations had cut deep. Y.N. was no gold digger—he knew that better than anyone—but the way Alys had framed it was enough to wound her. He longed to say something, to make it better, but the words stuck in his throat.

"Y.N.?" A nurse called out, breaking the tension between them.

Y.N. stood up, and Aemond followed as they were led into a small room. The older midwife, a kind-looking woman with greying hair, smiled warmly.

“Hi, I’m Marie, and this is Kelly,” she introduced her assistant, a young woman who was there to observe and learn. “Kelly is training today, if that's okay with you?”

Y.N. nodded quietly, still not saying much. She sat down and introduced Aemond as the father, trying to keep her composure. Kelly’s eyes went wide with recognition as she stared at Aemond.

“Aemond Targaryen?” Kelly gasped, and Y.N. felt a flicker of irritation as the young assistant's eyes lingered on him.

Y.N. shot her a scowl, but Kelly seemed oblivious, too engrossed in staring at Aemond, who moved to sit as close to Y.N. as possible.

Marie began asking Y.N. questions about how she was feeling and how the pregnancy had been progressing so far. Y.N. answered quietly, just wanting to get through the appointment.

“All right, Y.N.,” Marie said after a few moments. “Let's do a scan, shall we? Could you lay down on the table?”

Y.N. lay back on the examination table, exposing her stomach as Aemond stood by her side, his expression softening with excitement.

As Marie asked for the gel, Y.N. noticed Kelly still gazing at Aemond, utterly distracted. Marie snapped her fingers sharply.

“Kelly, the gel, please,” Marie said, sounding annoyed.

Kelly blushed and fumbled as she handed the gel to Marie, who shot her a disapproving look. “You need to pay more attention,” Marie scolded under her breath.

The gel was warm as Marie spread it across Y.N.’s stomach, and soon the image of their baby appeared on the screen. Aemond’s eye lit up with wonder, and without thinking, he took Y.N.’s hand, squeezing it gently.

“The baby has a strong heartbeat, and everything looks good,” Marie said, taking measurements. “Growing nicely.”

Y.N. glanced up at Aemond, who was utterly mesmerized by the screen. The baby’s tiny legs wiggled, and his smile grew wider. Marie froze the image and printed two pictures.

As Y.N. wiped the gel off her stomach, Marie reminded her to eat well and take her vitamins, setting the next appointment for four weeks.

Just as they were wrapping up, Kelly approached Aemond shyly, holding the printed scan pictures with an obvious blush on her cheeks.

Y.N. felt a flash of rage bubbling inside her as she watched the woman practically fawn over him. With a sharp tut, Y.N. snatched the pictures from Kelly’s hands, her patience at its limit. She spun on her heel and walked out of the room without a word.

Behind her, she could hear Marie scolding Kelly. “You need to be more professional, young lady.”

Aemond quickly followed Y.N., not saying a word as they left the building and headed toward the car.

Once inside, Y.N. handed Aemond one of the scan pictures. She watched as he stared at it, his expression softening with awe.

“Are you okay?” Y.N. asked gently, her anger at Kelly fading.

Aemond swallowed, his voice quiet. “There’s really a baby in there.”

Y.N. rolled her eyes slightly, scoffing. “Surely you didn’t think I was lying.”

“No, not for a second,” Aemond replied, his eye still fixed on the picture. “It’s just-being there, seeing the baby moving around. It’s real. There’s going to be a tiny person who’s going to depend on me, and-I don’t want to mess it up.”

Y.N. reached over and took his hand, her thumb stroking his knuckles. “You won’t mess it up, Aemond.”

He shook his head, a worried look crossing his face. “How can you be so sure? My father wasn’t exactly present, I have no idea how to be a good father.”

Y.N. nodded, understanding his fear. “I know how you feel. I have no idea who my father is, and I never had a mother. I’m terrified too. But all we can do is be there for this baby and support each other. Sure, there’ll be ups and downs, but we’ll get through it together.”

Aemond looked at her, a grateful smile pulling at his lips. “Thank you,” he said softly, squeezing her hand. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Y.N. blushed slightly, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the sincerity in his voice.

Before she could say anything else, Aemond’s expression changed to something more mischievous. “By the way, I’m taking you back to my penthouse.”

Y.N. raised an eyebrow, smirking. “And what makes you think I want to go there?”

Aemond grinned, leaning closer. “Because if you do then I’ll do that thing you like with my tongue” he whispered teasingly.

Y.N.’s cheeks flushed a deep red as she tried not to smile. Aemond chuckled as he started the car, the tension from earlier melting away as they drove back to his penthouse.

The night was spent with Aemond keeping to his word and doing that thing with his tongue that Y.N liked before he fucked her into the mattress, thrusting his cock inside her with a series of deep measured thrusts that made her toes curl.

Y.N. smiled with satisfaction as she carefully placed the restored book into a protective sleeve, feeling a deep sense of accomplishment.

The book had been her focus for weeks, and now, it was ready for the customer to collect. Mr. Howlett, her boss, marvelled at her delicate work.

"Exceptional job as always, Y.N.," he praised, gently handling the book. "I’ll contact the customer to let them know it's ready for pickup."

As he placed the book behind the counter, he added, "By the way, you have a visitor."

Y.N. sighed as soon as she spotted Jace hovering by one of the display shelves.

She approached him, and Jace immediately pulled her into a hug. Y.N. stiffened, awkwardly stepping out of his embrace.

"What are you doing here, Jace?" she asked, her tone clipped but controlled.

Jace gave her a sheepish look. "I was wondering if we could go out for lunch and talk."

Against her better judgment, Y.N. agreed. Mostly because she was hungry and because she needed to tell Jace the truth about Aemond being the father of her baby.

She excused herself to Mr. Howlett before they headed to the café on the corner.

Once inside, Y.N. ordered a cheeseburger with fries and extra pickles, while Jace opted for an all-day breakfast. They sat in awkward silence until Jace finally broke it.

"Are you still set on us being over?" he asked quietly, his voice uncertain.

Y.N. sighed, nodding. "Yes, Jace. I’m pregnant with another man’s child. How could we possibly get back together?"

Jace leaned forward, his expression desperate. "I want to be with you. I’m willing to help raise the baby."

Y.N. was about to respond when their food arrived. She thanked the waitress before immediately reaching for her pickles, devouring them. Jace watched her with mild disgust, but Y.N. didn’t care.

"What?" she snapped, catching his look. "I’m hungry."

Jace just shrugged and started eating his own food.

Halfway through her burger, Y.N. wiped her mouth and took a deep breath. "Getting back together isn’t what I want, Jace. I meant it when I said it was over between us."

Jace swallowed the food in his mouth, his eyes hardening. "Is it because of Sara?"

Y.N. shook her head. "No, it’s because I don’t love you anymore, and I’m pregnant with another man’s child. Getting back together is out of the question."

Jace’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing. "Are you going to tell me who the father is?"

Y.N. hesitated, knowing how explosive this moment was going to be. "Promise me you won’t go ballistic."

Jace forced a smile, a weak lie in his voice. "I won’t. I promise."

Y.N. took a deep breath, steeling herself for the fallout. "The father is Aemond."

For a moment, Jace was quiet. Then, his face twisted in anger. "My uncle?" he hissed, standing up abruptly. "You slept with my uncle? How desperate are you to spread your legs for him?"

Y.N. flinched, but her anger quickly flared. "Are you calling me a whore?"

"Yes!" Jace spat, his voice rising as people in the café began to stare. "My uncle, Y.N.? After all the trouble me and Luke have had with him over the years, and you go and get pregnant with his baby?"

Y.N. glanced around nervously, her voice low but urgent. "Jace, keep your voice down. People are staring."

"I don’t care!" Jace shouted, ignoring her plea. "I was a fool to think we could get back together. There’s no way I’m raising Aemond’s kid."

"No one asked you to," Y.N. retorted, her voice trembling with emotion. "And as for getting back together, you’re the one who kept pushing for it."

Jace scoffed. "You have no standards, Y.N. How could you let that animal touch you?"

"Aemond isn’t an animal!" Y.N. shouted back, her face flushed with fury.

"Of course he is," Jace growled. "Don’t you remember when he threatened to kill Luke?"

"That was said in a rush of anger!" Y.N. snapped. "And Luke was the one who slashed out Aemond’s eye and wasn’t punished for it."

Jace sneered at her, his voice dripping with disdain. "You’re pathetic, defending him like this. He attacked me and Luke first, and now you’re pregnant with his child."

Y.N. shot back, "That’s because you spent years bullying him!"

Jace’s eyes narrowed. "You only know what he told you."

Y.N. shook her head. "Actually, it was Helaena who told me what happened."

Jace scoffed bitterly. "Well, I hope Mr. Moneybags is worth it."

Y.N. felt tears sting her eyes, her voice breaking as she replied, "How can you say that when you live off your mother’s money? At least Aemond works for his."

Jace’s face twisted in rage. "Aemond knocked you up but won’t marry you. What does that tell you?"

Y.N. shot back, "He actually offered to marry me, but I turned him down."

Before Jace could respond, the café owner appeared, looking stern.

"That’s enough. You’re upsetting the lady and causing a scene. It’s time for you to leave."

Jace glared at Y.N. before snapping, "With pleasure!" He stormed off, slamming the door behind him.

The owner turned to Y.N., his voice gentle. "Are you all right, miss?"

Y.N. nodded, but the moment he asked, the emotions overwhelmed her, and she burst into tears.

Aemond sat behind his desk, feeling the strain of the day weighing heavily on him.

His head throbbed as his eye strained from staring at reports for hours. With a frustrated groan, he took off his eyepatch and rubbed the sides of his head, hoping to relieve some of the pressure.

Just as he was about to relax for a moment, his phone rang. Y.N.'s name flashed on the screen, and he answered immediately, his heart pounding.

"Hello? Y.N.?"

But instead of her familiar voice, a man answered, “Hello, is this Aemond Targaryen?”

Aemond's heart raced even faster. “Yes, where is Y.N.?” he demanded, standing up abruptly from his desk.

“She’s with me, but she’s very upset. She asked for you,” the man explained, his voice calm but concerned.

“Where are you?” Aemond barked, already reaching for his jacket and eyepatch.

The man gave him directions to a nearby café. Without another word, Aemond hung up, and told his assistant to cancel his meeting later that day. He sprinted to his car, the only thought in his mind being Y.N.

In record time, he arrived at the café and scanned the room until he saw her, huddled in the corner. The moment their eyes met, Y.N. rushed into his arms, her body trembling as she buried her face in his chest.

"Do you think I'm after your money?" she asked, her voice cracking with emotion.

Aemond cupped her face, tilting it up to meet his gaze. "Fuck no. What’s going on?"

Y.N. took a shaky breath. "Jace showed up at my work, and I agreed to go to lunch with him to tell him who the father of the baby is."

Aemond’s face hardened. "I guess he didn’t take it well."

She shook her head. "No. He basically called me a whore-and referred to you as moneybags"

Aemond scoffed, his lips curling into a sneer. "He lives off a generous allowance from Rhaenyra. How dare he say that to you?"

Y.N. sniffled. "I-I don’t care about your money."

“I know that,” Aemond said softly, stroking her cheek. “Jace is just a piece of shit.”

“He might come after you,” Y.N. worried aloud.

Aemond's eye narrowed, his voice cold. “Let him try. He’ll be missing a few teeth if he does. He’s jealous, Y.N., plain and simple. And I don’t for one second think you’re after my money. You have your own job, and you’re incredibly talented.”

Y.N. blushed at his praise, and Aemond smirked, pulling her closer. “Let’s get out of here. We’ll go back to my place, snuggle up, order takeout, and watch a movie of your choice.”

Her smile returned, even if just a little. “Deep Blue Sea.”

Aemond groaned playfully. “What is it with you and shark movies?”

Y.N. shrugged with a giggle, and Aemond chuckled softly.

Before they left, Aemond thanked the café owner for taking care of Y.N.

“It’s no trouble,” the owner replied kindly. “No one deserves to be spoken to like that.”

Aemond thanked him again and took Y.N.’s hand, leading her to his car.

Once back at his penthouse, Aemond immediately ran her a bath, telling her to relax and that she could wear one of his T-shirts and shorts when she was done.

“I’ll get the takeout menus ready for when you’re out.”

As Y.N. soaked in the bath, Aemond made a call to Rhaenyra. He wasn’t exactly fond of his half sister, but over time, they had managed to put aside their differences for the sake of the family business. Still, he couldn’t let Jace’s behaviour slide.

“Rhaenyra,” he greeted when she answered, "I need to talk to you about Jace."

She sighed on the other end of the line. "I already know. Jace called me earlier, ranting about it."

Aemond’s tone remained firm. “Regardless of what has happened between us in the past, Jace shouldn’t have spoken to Y.N. like that. I never expected to get her pregnant, but it happened, and I will do everything in my power to protect her and our child.”

Rhaenyra was quiet for a moment before saying, “I’ll deal with Jace. I hope Y.N. is all right.”

“She will be,” Aemond replied, his gratitude evident in his voice. "Thank you."

Just as he hung up, Y.N. emerged from the bathroom, dressed in his oversized T-shirt and shorts, her hair damp and loose around her shoulders.

She looked more at ease, and Aemond smiled at the sight, his cock responding in earnest to the sight of her dressed in his clothes.

“Pick out what you want to eat,” he said, handing her the menus as he willed away his erection.

She had just started browsing when the doorbell rang. Aemond groaned, walking to the door. He opened it to be instantly greeted by Aegon and Daeron.

Aegon shoved a case of beer into Aemond's arms, and Daeron waved a deck of cards in his face. “Don’t tell me you forgot about game night.”

“Well, I—” Aemond began, but he stopped when both his brothers noticed that Y.N. was standing in the living room, dressed in Aemond’s clothes.

The atmosphere instantly shifted, both brothers grinning mischievously.

“Oh,” Aegon drawled, eyeing them both with interest. “Not interrupting anything are we?"

TBC

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond fic #hotd fic #aemond one eye #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #aemond x reader

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katareyoudrilling · 1 day

Text

Audience of One (Dave York one-shot)

Pairing: Bodyguard Dave York x Female Reader

Summary: When online comments threaten your safety, you reluctantly agree to hire a bodyguard

Word count: ~3k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only. NO MINORS)

Content Warnings: a bit of danger, masturbation, unprotected PIV (please use protection IRL), a hickey (sort of)

A/N: This is my entry for @burntheedges Roll-a-Trope challenge! I got famous person AU and twisted it to fit my very niche tastes lol. It has been quite a while since I posted something, thanks for hanging in there with me. I really hope you enjoy it! Big thanks to @burntheedges for the beta 😘

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

Dave York Masterlist

Masterlist

Taglist – link in my bio or let me know!

“I really think you’re overreacting.” You finish cleaning off your instrument and securing it in your case.

“I’m not and it’s not open to discussion.”

You sigh. “I’m a concert violinist, not a movie star. No one is out to ‘get me’ or whatever. This is ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” your manager forces you to meet her gaze. “There have been emails, social media posts… I know you don’t want to believe it, but there are creeps out there focused on you. I need you to be safe.”

She’s looking at you with so much care and concern that the fight leaves your body. “Fine. Send him in.”

“Thank you.” She turns to open the door to the dressing room and gestures to someone in the hallway. You gather the rest of your things into your bag and prepare to head to your hotel.

Your manager steps back into the room trailed by a tall, broad, dark-haired, incredibly attractive man in an overcoat.

“Meet Dave York, your bodyguard.”

. . . . . . . . . .

“I’m really sorry about this,” you apologize for the tenth time since getting into the back of the town car with your new bodyguard in tow. “All this fuss is unnecessary.”

Dave regards you across the darkened backseat. “Your manager doesn’t think so and neither do I. The sooner you accept my help, the better this will go.”

You lose your train of thought as the streetlights sweep across his gorgeous features. His pouty lips… his aquiline nose… his strong jaw… his dark eyes… each feature takes its turn in the lamplight. It’s probably for the best, taking him in all at once might actually kill you. No one has the right to be this handsome.

You shake yourself out of your reverie and find Dave watching you closely. You look away quickly, shifting your focus out your window. You cross your legs, and the slit of your dress opens, revealing your legs up to mid-thigh. You quickly adjust the skirt to cover yourself and tell yourself that you’re imagining Dave’s eyes flickering away.

You clear your throat, “Right, umm… how is this going to go, exactly?”

“I’ll be with you during the day. When you return to your hotel room at night, I’ll hand off responsibility to my security team. There will be extra security at your concerts and events as well.”

“That doesn’t sound too intrusive.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

“I hope you like classical music.”

“We’ll find out.”

. . . . . . . . . . .

And that’s how it goes. Dave meets you outside your door when you’re ready to leave in the morning and accompanies you on each step of your schedule. He tags along to masterclasses, rehearsals, concerts, and your own practice sessions. Ushering you in and out of town cars and back exits.

You share brief conversations in the car. His dry, sarcastic wit comes out little by little as you spend time with him. He often makes you laugh and you thrill when his pouty lips tilt at the edges into a wry smirk at something you said.

He leaves you at your hotel room door in each city at the end of the day, waiting until you close the door to call his security team.

You don’t lean against the door and wonder where he goes after he’s with you. That would be inappropriate.

You don’t replay the events of the day, the glances, the almost touches, that assuredly exist only in your own imagination.

You don’t catalog the little things you’ve learned about him. Single. No kids. Ex-military. Coffee, black. Unexpected crinkles around the eyes when he smiles.

You don’t seek him out in the concert halls, looking for a sign that he enjoys the music you’re making, always finding him watching you intently from backstage, still and focused.

You don’t find yourself pulling out your favorite toy to relieve some tension more and more frequently as the days spent in his company add up.

Definitely not.

. . . . . . . . . .

“You played something different tonight.” Dave’s deep voice breaks the silence of the car.

You hum your assent, “Sarasate’s Carmen Fantasy. It’s a real crowd pleaser.”

“I didn’t know a violin could do that.”

You chuckle, “Yeah, the soloist gets to show off in that one.”

“You like to show off, don’t you?”

The energy in the car shifts in an instant. Dave’s dark eyes are even darker than usual as he regards you across the cab. The question hangs heavy in the air.

“You have to like to show off to do my job,” you explain a bit breathlessly. You meet his dark gaze, and he hums in approval. “Do you like to show off, Dave?”

He drags his thumb across his lower lip, your eyes can’t help but follow the movement.

“No, I don’t like to show off. I like to watch.”

His words hit you like an electrical current, zinging across your skin, breaking you out into full body goose bumps.

You hold each other’s gaze in the dark, your breath coming in increasingly erratic pants. He doesn’t look away. Neither do you.

You cross your legs and allow your skirt to fall open up your legs, just like the first night you were in the car with him. This time, the dress has an even higher slit—you save this particular gown for when you perform the Carmen, you enjoy playing into the persona. This time, you don’t cover up.

You watch as his gaze flickers to your bare legs, exposed practically all the way to your underwear, the tip of his tongue sneaks out to wet his plush lips.

He drags his eyes back up to yours. The air is thick with possibility. A line has definitely been crossed. Words begin to bubble up from your gut when the car pulls to a stop in front of the hotel.

The moment pops like a balloon.

Dave opens his door and swings up and out of the car. In a haze, you open your door and step out into the night.

The next moments go by in a flash.

You hear someone shout your name, Dave yells, you’re shoved against the car, unfamiliar hands grab your shoulders and whisk you into the hotel lobby and into the elevator. The doors close before you can understand the commotion happening outside the hotel.

You’re flanked by security guards you’ve seen around after hours. The words “assailant” “custody” “weapon” permeate the buzzing in your brain. Questions form and dissipate in the tangle of your thoughts before you can get them out.

The elevator doors open on your floor, and you are bodily moved into your hotel room. Before they can close the door, you finally manage to ask what’s going on only to be met with vague instructions to stay in your room and wait.

You pace the floor and look out your window, hoping for a glimpse of what might be happening on the street below, but you’re on the wrong side of the building. It doesn’t hold any answers for you.

Your hands reach for your phone only to realize it’s still in your bag in the car, along with your instrument case.

The car.

Your mind returns to that moment right before you pulled up to the hotel. So ripe with promise and possibility.

Then you had gotten out of the car.

Oh shit.

You got out of the car yourself. You opened your door yourself. You weren’t supposed to do that. Dave opens your door. Dave ushers you out of the car.

It’s all your fault.

Just as your thoughts threaten to spiral, there’s a firm knock on your door.

“It’s me. Everything is ok. Open the door.” You hear Dave through the door. You rush over and check the peephole like he told you to. At least you can say you remembered to do that. You confirm it’s him and open the door.

“Dave, I—”

He crashes into you, pressing you against the wall with the length of his body before claiming your mouth with a rough, desperate kiss. His hands grip your chin, your shoulders, your hip as he devours your mouth.

Your hands scrabble against his chest, finding the lapels of his coat to hang on.

Just as suddenly as you found yourself kissing Dave, you aren’t. He pulls back abruptly leaving you cold and breathless.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t ha—”

You pull him back to you by his coat, drawing his mouth back to yours. You lick into his mouth, moaning as he responds.

This kiss is less frantic, but still full of need. Your tongues tangle together, tasting and testing.

Dave eventually breaks away, resting his forehead against yours.

“Are you ok?”

“Yes, I’m ok, but what happened?”

“A man came running toward you, the police have him now. I’m sure it’s the person making those creepy comments about you online.”

“I got out of the car by myself, Dave, I’m so sorry, I know I’m n—”

“Shh,” he hushes you. “It’s ok. You’re ok.”

He presses his lips to yours, swallowing your protests, until you melt into him.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” He drags his lips down your throat, across your collarbones and shoulders. He licks back up the side of your neck.

You gasp as he drags his tongue over the sensitive spot on your neck.

“I noticed this mark the night I first met you,” he murmurs into your skin. “I was so jealous of whoever got to do that to you. I kept waiting to find out who it was, to see if they were worthy of marking your skin, but there has been no one and the mark has stayed.” You sense the unasked question.

“My… it’s… a violin hickey,” you pant as he drags his nose up the column of your throat and along your jaw. “Where my violin rubs against my neck when I play.” He chuckles.

“Should I be jealous of your violin?”

“Probably.”

He hums against you. “Fair enough.”

He steps back to the hotel room door and for a moment your heart drops thinking that he might be leaving, but he only opens the door to pull your bag and violin case into the room. You hear him conversing with a guard outside before he closes the door, locking the deadbolt before turning back to you.

He shrugs off his overcoat and suit jacket. He loosens the knot of his tie and begins to unbutton the cuffs of his sleeves. You watch the movement of his fingers with rapt attention.

“So, Miss Show off. Do you want to show off for me?” His eyes flash dangerous and dark and a thrill runs up your spine.

Adrenaline tingles in your fingertips as you find the zipper of your dress and pull it down your side.

You lock eyes with Dave as you let your gown fall to the floor, a puddle at your feet. You are left standing in only your panties and high heels.

Dave drinks you in, caressing your curves with his warm gaze. Your nipples harden under his perusal and wetness pools between your legs. It’s all you can do to not rub your thighs together.

“Get on the bed.” He commands, his voice deep and rasping with need. His shirtsleeves are rolled up now, exposing the tendons and veins in his forearms. His hands fist at his sides, clearly fighting the urge to touch you. But you’ve learned this about Dave, he is always in control of himself.

You walk over to the bed, turning your back to him and adding an extra sway to your hips. You catch his strangled moan at the sight of your round ass framed by the string of your thong. You turn to sit at the end of the bed with a satisfied smirk. Dave stands at arm’s length from you, pinning you with his dark eyes.

“Show me. Let me see if those fingers can play your pussy as well as they play your violin.”

You gasp at his filthy words and your center clenches with need. Keeping your eyes on him once again, you drag your panties down your legs and off, kicking off your shoes as you do, and scoot a bit farther onto the bed.

You lean back into the plush bedding, resting on one elbow, knees bent, and spread your legs for Dave.

He drinks you in hungrily as you part yourself for him, dipping your fingers into your wetness.

Your mouth falls open as you circle your clit, a moan escaping your chest. You fight to keep your eyes open so you can watch Dave watch you. You really do like to show off and he is an eager audience.

You quicken your pace, hitting the rhythm you like best, and find yourself careening towards your peak. Your hips buck on the bed, and you whine that you’re close.

“Show me,” Dave commands one last time before you fall over the edge, pulsing and shivering through your release.

“Do I get a standing ovation?” you ask, breathless, once you’ve come back to yourself.

“You tell me.”

You crack one eye open and find that he’s standing at the end of the bed naked. His cock juts proudly away from his hips at full attention.

“My favorite kind.” You lick your lips as you sit up and crawl to the edge of the bed. You look up at him as you take the tip of his cock between your lips, sliding down the hard length of him. You watch his stomach flex with effort as he resists fucking into your mouth.

It makes you want to make him lose control. He’s always alert and watching. Even in the car on the way to the hotel tonight, he kept his cool as you tempted him. Bursting into your room to kiss you is the only time you’ve seen him not in complete control of himself.

You tongue and suck and moan around him, losing yourself in the rhythm. Dave drags his fingers down your cheek and throat.

“Look at you, fuck.” He cups your breasts, swaying heavily between your arms, and pinches your nipples. “I want to watch these tits bounce while I fuck you.”

You whimper around his length, arousal practically dripping down your legs. He pulls out of your mouth, diving down to kiss you deeply and press you backwards onto the bed.

He arranges himself against the headboard and drags you on top of him. “Ride me, baby,” he commands. You eagerly comply, lining his weeping cock up with your entrance.

Your eyes roll back in your head as you sink down onto him, the stretch is so delicious with every inch you take. When you bottom out, you open your eyes to find Dave breathing hard, the tendons of his neck taut with effort.

You rise and sink back down slowly, angling yourself backwards so he can see his cock disappear into your wet heat. He licks the pad of his thumb and reaches between you, giving you friction that makes you shudder with each roll of your hips.

“Fuck yes,” he groans, eyes locked on your greedy pussy, swallowing him whole. You feel yourself start to flutter around him, the intensity of his eyes on you drives your arousal higher and higher. Being watched with so much desire gives you such a thrill that your orgasm threatens to take you far too soon.

You slow and lean forward, placing a hand on the headboard over Dave’s head. Your breasts wobble in front of his face and he quickly takes one nipple into his mouth. You arch your back into him as he sucks and tugs, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

He holds your hips still with one hand as he feasts on you, bringing his other to cup and pinch your tender flesh.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you cry as the pressure builds in your core. Your hips grind into him, seeking relief as he relentlessly toys with you.

He allows you to move, to chase your high, riding his cock with abandon as he looks up at you with lust blown eyes. You tilt your hips, and he finds your clit once again.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he praises you as you near your peak. “Come on my cock, baby. I want to feel you.”

You come with a gasp, rising up on your knees as your pussy clenches then collapsing back down with shuddering pulses. Dave caresses your back before rolling you over and gently pulling out. He kneels between your legs, stroking his length, as you lie boneless and hazy.

“That was so fucking hot, baby.” His jaw clenches as he strokes himself faster and faster. “I fucking love to watch you. Watch you play your violin… watch you touch yourself… watch you fuck…”

“It’s my turn, Dave,” you interrupt. “I want to watch you come. Come all over me.” You prop yourself up on your elbows and smirk at the way a shudder moves through his body. He lets go with a groan, ropes of cum painting your tummy and chest.

You both collapse, satisfied. Dave cleans you up, taking extra care with your breasts. You smirk as he chases the warm cloth with his even warmer mouth.

“What happens now?” you ask later, when you’re twined together on the bed. “If that was the guy…”

“I’ll be here as long as you need me and even after you don’t,” Dave presses a kiss to the top of your head. You snuggle into his side, relaxing in the knowledge that you are safe and thrilled with the prospect of showing off again for your audience of one.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

A/N: I don't have, and never have had, a violin hickey. I probably don't practice enough lol. But they are often seen as a point of pride among violinists.

Dave York Masterlist

Masterlist

Taglist - in reblog

#roll a trope challenge #dave york #famous person au #dave york x reader #pedro pascal characters

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