#xoxo droplets x reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

a-n-conrad · 2 years

Text

General XOXO Droplets dating HCs with the Jerk Squad

For Nate, Everett, Shiloh, Bae, Pran, and Jeremy with a gender neutral reader!

[Warnings: None? I think? ]

Request: From my request survey (https://forms.gle/FpFyr84gPioVrW1Z9)

Nate Lawson

Nate Lawson cannot turn off the nagging no matter how hard he tries. You just kind of have to deal with it.

However, it does help sometimes. If you’re bad at remembering to do things or finding motivation, he’s actually a huge help.

If you can handle him being a bit blunt and rude, he helps a lot with studying too when he has the time.

His schedule is annoying as hell, let’s be honest. However, if you can convince him that it would be beneficial, you could probably get him to specifically schedule dates for you.

He’s probably always going to be a little uncomfortable with touch, but he finds plenty of other ways to show affection.

There are pros and cons to getting him to help you clean/organize. On one hand, it will be done really well. On the other hand, the process of getting it done will be SO stressful.

Truthfully, Nate is probably a really good boyfriend if you can deal with all of the stress. You just have to be willing to work with him.

He would definitely struggle with compromises, but he cares and he’s trying his best.

I have a feeling that he’s really used to people just writing him off as a perfectionist killjoy. He’d probably really appreciate someone who’s willing to understand him, even if you don’t agree with all of his opinions.

You do have to be able to get along with Everett a little. You don’t have to be best friends with him, but if you can’t stand to be in the same room as Nate’s best friend it just isn’t going to work.

Everett Gray

Judgey and snarky. I love Everett, but this guy uses his fake superiority complex to cope with his anxiety. You have to be able to deal with some snarky comments, and maybe even fire back a bit.

If you go shopping with him, he’s going to be incredibly picky about what you try. He’s trying to “help”, but he’s kind of a jerk about it. You might end up looking cool in the end, though.

Opposite of Nate when it comes to you needing help with things. Unless you want advice on how to seem “cool”, this guy is absolutely useless. He’ll be there for “support” though (he’ll sit and complain about being bored, but he’s still there).

Probably tried really hard not to tell his mom about you when you were first casually dating, but accidentally ruined his own plan but absentmindedly ranting. His mom probably thought it was really cute.

Shares his mom’s care packages with you. Don’t make a big deal out of it.

He probably starts getting little gifts for you after you start officially dating. He says he thinks it’s dumb, but I refuse to believe Mrs. Gray didn’t teach that boy any manners.

Has moods where he tries to push people away. Be stubborn. He needs stubborn. He may act annoyed, but he isn’t. He just loves to act annoyed.

Like with Nate, you do have to be able to tolerate his best friend. He’s not giving up his friend for you. Sorry.

Shiloh Fields

Honestly on the surface Shiloh would probably be a really good boyfriend, because he’s really good at doing/being exactly who you want. But is it genuine? Of course not. This is Shiloh we’re talking about.

It’s going to be a task to get anything real out of Shiloh, but I think if he genuinely cares about you, he’ll try. Of course, genuine for Shiloh just means that he’ll let you in on some of the scams he’s got going.

Shiloh’s probably never going to stop being a little manipulative, but he might be able to tone it down with you. He’ll keep it more in the “forgivable prank” and “joking lies” categories.

Shiloh loves horror so I’m confident he would be one of those guys that uses horror movies to get you to cling to him. He’ll definitely say things like “This movie isn’t that bad. Just a few jumpscares.” before putting in one of the scariest movies known to man.

It might seem like it would be helpful to be able to see through Shiloh’s lies, but I think that would make him uncomfortable.

He’d probably use his tricks to help you after a while. If you go to Shiloh about someone making you uncomfortable, he’ll deal with it. You don’t need to know how. It’s probably mostly legal, right? Maybe.

He doesn’t particularly care if you get along with other people. You do, however, have to be willing to let him continue with his scams.

Bae Pyoun

Bae is probably a decent boyfriend if you can actually get him to date you. He’s got high standards for everything. This can be to your detriment or benefit depending on how you look at it.

He’s not going to slack off on dating you. Of course, he expects the same, but at least you can tell that he cares, right?

I honestly doubt that he would refer to you by name basically ever. The nicknames just get more ridiculous.

I fully imagine that seeing him around kids is absolutely adorable. And then you have to take a second and realize that he treats just about everyone exactly the same way that he treats five year olds. You might be an exception sometimes, though.

He’s one of those people that “supervises” when you have to do something hard. By supervise, I meant that he watches and micromanages in the background. He’ll help a little if you really need it. Just don’t expect him to do any physical labor.

He’s one of those people that can manage to tell someone off without them really knowing how to react. If you tell him that someone is making you uncomfortable, they’ll probably end up too confused to keep bothering you.

He doesn’t really need you to get along with people, but you do have to handle it a certain way if you do dislike people. He’ll probably trash talk them with you, though.

Pran Taylor

Very much the “sit next to each other and do our own thing” kind of person. He likes to just sit next to you and draw while you do your own thing.

He isn’t going to go out of his way to do things with you, but at a certain point, he’ll just go along with what you want. He’ll probably continue to act annoyed about it, but you can definitely catch him smiling every once in a while.

Genuinely really protective, but I imagine he has like 500 excuses for why. He will not admit that it’s because he cares about you if he can avoid it.

I can distinctly picture that he would give you a drawing as a gift, but the way he would do it would be by crumpling it up and throwing it at you. The only reason you know that it’s for you is because there’s no way that Pran would litter.

Pran can almost certainly pick you up. You might even be able to convince him to carry you around. He honestly might find it kind of cute if you have a lot of fun with it.

You definitely have to get along with Jeremy a bit. Pran’s very protective, so he won’t tolerate you being genuinely mean to his friend.

Jeremy King

Jeremy is begrudgingly very cute. I feel like he hates that he genuinely wants to do cute things for you sometimes. He finds it so embarrassing.

He is a germaphobe and that does still apply to you. He does insist you wash your hands an insane amount before any physical affection.

His snappier side from when he was younger didn’t go away completely, but he does try his best not to snap at you. It’s not too hard, since he’s mostly apathetic, but it’s a struggle on occasion.

He definitely absentmindedly makes you gifts when he’s especially tired. He definitely won’t give it to you in person, though. It would be way too embarrassing for him.

He absolutely sucks at planning dates. He'll mostly go along with whatever you want, but he’ll really appreciate it if you make an effort to get him to enjoy it too. That’s not to say that he will enjoy it, just that he appreciates the effort.

His parents would probably love you regardless of who you are, and it annoys him so much.

He doesn’t exactly need you to be friends with Pran, but he’d get annoyed if you two fought too much. You have to at least tolerate Pran and get him to tolerate you.

[A/N: I was trying to use the wiki as a guide because it's been a little while since I played, but some of the boys have like nothing on their page. RIP me, I guess.]

#xoxo droplets #xoxo droplets x reader #gb patch games #nate lawson #everett gray #shiloh fields #bae pyoun #pran taylor #jeremy king

212 notes · View notes

lovelyraven01 · 2 years

Text

Our Life NSFW HCs

Featuring: Cove, Derek, Baxter, and Jeremy x GN!Reader

Warnings: NSFW writings. Unedited/not proofread. Minors/ageless blogs DNI. Dirty talk. Shower sex. Face fucking/blowjobs. Overstim.

1.4k words ~ 10 min read

Cove loves showering you with praise during sex, often times getting super emotional. He’s a switch and doesn’t mind who takes control, as long as he gets to be close to your perfect body. When he’s close to his release he’ll whine and cry and bury his head in your neck because it just feels so good :(<3 Your anklet (especially if it’s the one he bought) is his weakness and if you keep it on during sex he’ll toy with it while he goes down on you. Definitely the aftercare type, smothering you with gentle kisses and reassuring words. He can get flustered easily and needs encouragement to keep going at times, but he wants to please you so bad and would go down to the ends of the Earth to do so <3

Soft moans and whimpers bounced off the bedroom walls as you rode Cove, his dick reaching the deepest parts of your walls. His hands had an almost bruisingly tight grip on your hips, not because he wants to leave a mark or hurt you but it just feels so good he can’t help himself. As you slowly bounced on his cock, you could feel your strength fading. You looked down at your partner with needy eyes, leaning forward to kiss and bite at his neck.

“Cove….” You whimpered, slowing your hips down to grind into him, making you gasp as his tip reached that special spot inside you.

“N.. Need help…”

As fast as a light switch, he flipped you over so he was back on top. His eyes full of lust but his face showed nothing but love. He pushes your legs up towards your chest as he enters inside you once again, making you moan loudly as his cock stretches you out.

“I love you so much,” He whines, tears welling up in his pretty blue eyes. You moaned his name, feeling your walls clamp down on his dick. Feeling your tightness, he picked up the pace; kissing anywhere his lips could reach your body.

“P-please, I can’t hold back anymore..!”

Derek is a sweetheart who will always prioritize your needs before his own. He’ll take his time worshipping every part of your body, kissing and licking at your sensitive skin and leaving marks wherever he pleases. He loves using his hands and could touch you for hours, longing to hear your cute whimpers as you cum all over him. He’ll lick you clean and do it all over again until you beg him to just fuck you already. Despite growing confidence over the years, he can still be insecure at times and appreciates it when you tell him just how good he makes you feel. <3

Tears brimmed at the corner of your eyes as your whole body shook from another orgasm, your vision going white. As you came down from your high Derek planted kisses all over your neck and chest, rubbing your thighs gently for comfort.

You’ve came twice already and he hasn’t even fucked you yet. Despite loving every second of his touch, your patience was running thin. You wanted him inside you so so bad.

“D-Der…” You cry softly, grinding your body against his in a desperate attempt to get closer to him. He looks into your eyes, a slight concern arose in him as he noticed your tears.

“You okay, hun?” He asks gently, wiping your tears. You nodded, running your shaky hands down his body slowly. You stop at his dick to slowly stroke it, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

“I need you…please.”

He smiles softly, a faint blush appearing across his cheeks. He complies, spreading your legs once more to align himself at your entrance. Placing one last kiss onto your lips, he slowly thrusts into you; letting out a soft moan as he bottoms out inside of you.

“Anything for you, my love.”

Baxter is definitely the kinkiest of the bunch, he loves to hear you whine and beg for him. He’s big into orgasm control and will tease you until tears roll down your face and you’re begging for more. Of course because you’re so precious he’ll always reward you for being good.

Although he won’t say it out loud, he loves it when you suck him off. The way you gag and whine so preciously around his cock as he shoves it down your throat makes him go crazy. While he’s good at staying in control of his urges, all of that goes out the window the second he starts fucking your pretty face <3

“Mmm, fuuuck…” Baxter moans, caressing your face and holding your hair back for you as you take his cock into his mouth. The sounds of your muffled gags fill the room, and he’d be lying if said he didn’t love every fucking minute of it.

You stop your actions to catch your breath, a trail of saliva hanging from your lips as you slowly glide your tongue along the length of his dick, looking up at him with your pretty eyes.

That was all that he needed for him to lose all of his self control, grabbing hold of your hair once again before giving you a smirk that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Please put your full trust in me for a few minutes, dear.” He warns, his chest rising and falling heavily with his breaths. He was so so close and needed to fuck that beautiful face of yours so badly.

Knowing exactly what he wants, you open your mouth eager to take him in and flash him the prettiest puppy dog eyes you can manage. He chuckled darkly, wasting no more time to claim your throat as his.

“You know exactly what to do to drive me crazy, doll.”

Jeremy. Sex is a difficult topic for Jeremy due to his germaphobia, and just because he’s… Jeremy. He feels most comfortable being intimate in the shower or bath, adoring the way the water rolls down your skin and glistens every part of your body. While he’s on the more vanilla side, he loves to bend you over the edge of the tub and whisper degrading things into your ear. He’s not too big into oral (or so he says) but for someone who says that he sure did seem to enjoy it that one time…<3

“J-Jer…” You whine, a gasp escaping your lips every thrust he makes. The warm water cascades over your body and face, spilling onto the bathroom floor but neither of you could be bothered.

His thrusts were slow but strong, every movement he made sent you more and more into a pleasured haze. He brought you back to reality by grabbing your hair, pulling it back so he could whisper in your ear.

“Shut up and take it,” he growls, purposely slowing down even more to focus on going deeper, hitting your most sensitive spot with ease. He lets go of your hair and bends down to kiss and nip at your collarbone and shoulder, wrapping his arm around your neck to pull you deeper into him. With his free hand he slowly rubbed your sex.

Tears pricked at your eyes from the overstimulation, your legs shaking and threatening to buckle on you. Jeremy held you upright, picking the pace back up and fucks you harder.

“Is it too much for you?” He mocks, rolling his tongue along your damp neck. “Don’t think you can take it?”

You shook your head, your heavy pants and whimpers filled the air. Your walls clamped onto his cock as you suddenly came with no warning, your body shaking and your lip quivering. You heard a deep moan escape from Jeremy as he came inside you.

“Dirty slut…” He mutters, giving your ass a quick slap before slowly sliding out of you. You turned around to face him and sat on the edge of the tub, trying to catch your breath. Your whole body was shaking as you tiredly looked up at him, silently begging for any type of comfort.

He sighed, softly rolling his eyes as the smallest smile turned on the corner of his mouth. He bent down to kiss your forehead, and extended a hand out to you to help you back on your feet.

The rest of the shower was in silence, but in a comfortable one. Jeremy washed your hair for you after a bit of convincing and even let you do his for once. You smiled, despite his cold demeanor and stubbornness, he always found a way to show you he cared. In his own weird way.

#cove holden #our life beginnings & always #cove x gn reader #baxter ward #jeremy king #xoxo droplets #derek suarez #smut

828 notes · View notes

sakisweetie · 1 year

Note

OKAY OKAY

I HAVE FOUR REQUESTS, SORRY IF IT'S TOO MUCH, BUT YOU'RE THE FIRST PERSON I FOUND WHO DOES REQUESTS FOR 1980S MODE AND OUR LIFE SOOO

very kind spirit, could you possibly do dating hcs for Jeremy and Lee from Our Life and Daisaku Aragaki AND MAYBEEE the journalist from yandere simulator 1980s mode??

I don't think the journalist one would be p3dophilia, since at the time he was like 20, I think

and yk yk, 18 years old reader

OMG IM SO HAPPY SOMEONE FINALLY REQUEST OUR LIFE😭😭 I'm postponing all my other requests just for this (sorry)

I'll divide it into 3 posts if that's ok 🧚‍♂️🧚‍♂️

Jeremy + Lee dating hcs

Gn reader

Jeremy

• He complains to you a lot

• I mean he'll just casually break into your house and collapse on you (he doesn't care if you're standing or sitting)

• "Babe those people are insufferable"

• "Ugh you will not believe what happened"

• Just give him head kisses and stroke his hair and he'll shut up (lovingly)

• Claims he doesn't like compliments but he'll do anything for your approval

• And it's so cute bc he blushes like crazy 🤭

• He's the type of boyfriend to leave you on read but then gets annoyed if you do the same to him

• He's just jealous

• SPEAKING OF if he sees you anywhere near someone he doesn't like he'd just grumble and be like "ugh let's go"

• Then he constantly gives the person dirty looks so they'll hopefully leave on their own

• He seems so cold and pissy but he's so sweet with you

• He's constantly wondering how he got to be with someone like you

• He's really good at paying attention to details so if you ever mention one thing you like you're getting it

• Or any show/movie/game etc.

• He's watching/playing it just so you have someone to talk about it with

Lee

• What's it like to date the sweetest girl ever

• She's basically your personal cheerleader

• No literally if you're struggling with motivation or confidence she'll start a little motivational chant

• It usually doesn't help at all but it's adorable and you just do it for her

• Loves doing karaoke with you so the two of you can sing together! She doesn't care if your voice is awful or just as good as hers, she just wants to sing with you!

• You two rarely ever argue

• She doesn't like to disagree with you in case it ever leads to something bad, so it's usually avoided

• But also there's not much to argue about! She doesn't get jealous because she trusts you more than anything

• She hopes you trust her too so you'll let her dress you up!

• You'll either leave the room looking glamorous or like a clown

• It's like a gamble

• She's really into PDA and just intimacy in general

• I feel likes she's like that with you even before dating

• Likes to lay on you throughout the day

• She does that while talking about her day or celebrity gossip and you just happily listen

#our life: beginnings & always #lee x reader #jeremy x reader #xoxo droplets #there's not a lot of tags for this huh

36 notes · View notes

satansdarlin · 2 years

Text

Me rn cause I'm not finding any nate lawson x reader fanfics:

#nate lawson #xoxo droplets #x reader #sad times #fanfic

43 notes · View notes

jeremywasriven · 5 months

Text

here you go guys a shitty chapter two to an old fic from a year ago. i dont think im gonna write more jeremy fanfiction but we'll see

#xoxo droplets #jeremy king #jeremy king xoxo droplets #xoxo droplets jeremy king #jeremy king fanart #jeremy king our life #jeremy king x reader #xoxo droplets fanfic #did i do the link thing right

4 notes · View notes

leclerc-hs · 27 days

Text

can't get you outta my head - cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader (friends to lovers!) summary: in which you and charles are in the same friend group and find solace in one another OR you and charles fuck and can’t forget about it warnings: smut under the cut! oral (f-receiving!), outdoor sex, p in v, angst, pining, badly translated french (pls correct me), NOT PROOFREAD word count: 5.4k! (lengthy) author’s note: IN HONOR OF HITTING 1,600 FOLLOWERS I AM POSTING THIS TODAY!!!! double-postings today!!! i wrote this SOOO fast so sorry if there’s any mistakes. loved writing it tho and i know i was going to make it more enemies originally but making him softer and cutesy just felt right for now. i can always do another one if you guys want!! just let me know what you think! love hearing from you guys!!! xoxo

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

BENEATH THE BRILLIANT canopy of the sun’s golden embrace, you recline comfortably upon the plush cushions of the lounge chairs, creating a sanctuary of comfort amidst the vast expanse of sand. Around you, a kaleidoscope of colors and textures unfold: vibrant beach towels strewn around carelessly, the glistening ocean stretching endlessly before you, and the verdant palm trees swaying in rhythmic cadence against the bright blue sky.

The sound of the ocean’s embrace upon the sandy shoreline murmurs in the background, a subtle undercurrent beneath the symphony of voices of your friends that fills the air. Your gaze drifts towards a cluster of your friends cavorting in the embrace of the water. Their figures, silhouetted against the shimmering expanse of the ocean, exude a carefree vitality. Like playful spirits unleashed, they tumble and wrestle amidst the crash of the waves, their laughter echoing.

You smile softly listening to a few of the girl’s banter over last night’s drunken escapades, flipping a page of the cheap magazine you purchased earlier.

“Joris a pratiquement mange de la merde hier soir.” Joris practically ate shit last night. Your best friend, also Joris’s girlfriend, to the left of you says in between laughter, as you all careen over with a laugh.

“Au moins, il va bien.” At least he’s fine. You say with a soft smile, turning another page of your magazine. “Can we talk about Antoine shooting a firecracker out of his ass?” The words spark an immediate eruption of laughter, tears threaten to fall from your eyes from the sheer hilarity of the memory.

“Qu’est-ce qui est si drôle?” What’s so funny?

You turn your head and find yourself locking eyes with a pair of captivating green. In that moment, your heart skips a small beat, and a soft smile graces your lips as you gaze warmly at him. “Making fun of Joris and Antoine, bien sûr.” Of course.

A smile plays at the corner of his pink lips, and you can’t help but envy their perfect hue. You can’t help but notice the subtle dimples that grace Charles’ cheeks as he smiles. Did he always have those? With a casual grace, he raises a hand to scratch the side of his stubble before reaching for a towel casually draped over your lounge chair. As he leans over, droplets of water cascade onto your warm skin, a gentle reminder of the ocean’s embrace. You steal a moment to admire the bronzed glow of his skin, the sunlight dancing upon the small beads of water that cling to his sculpted muscles with a tantalizing allure.

A peculiar aura envelops the relationship between you and Charles. You didn’t speak often, although you were in the same friend group, and have known each other for forever. However, in the recent weeks, a shift has occurred. Perhaps it’s the shared experience of a newfound singleness has drawn you closer together, prompting conversations to flow more freely than ever before.

A delicate blush creeps onto your cheeks, a fleeting flush of warmth that you hope goes unnoticed against the backdrop of your sun-kissed skin. You feel a jolt of electricity shoot through you as Charles’s fingers brush lightly against your shoulders while the grabs the towel, igniting a subtle spark between you two.

“Allons-nous au club ce soir?” Are we going to the club tonight? One of your guy friends asks, sinking onto a sandy towel with a groan as he collapses onto the soft grains.

For a moment, maybe a few seconds, silence hangs in the air. As if each person is lost in contemplation, weighing the prospect of the evening’s plans. Then, in a synchronous chorus, a resounding chorus of “yes” erupts from the group, breaking the silence with unanimous enthusiasm.

You remain silent, immersed in the pages of a trash magazine, each turn revealing scandalous tales that undoubtedly blur the lines between fact and fiction. Charles watches you intently from his position in the beach chair across from you, though not directly opposite. Positioned slightly to the right, his gaze lingers on you with a subtle curiosity, his expression betraying a hint of contemplation as he observes you amidst the circle of friends. Always in your own world.

��Lovie, tu participes?” Are you in? Your best friend beside you seems to notice your lack of response. Her arms stretch across the gap between your chairs, and she gently squeezes your wrist, a silent gesture of reassurance and solidarity.

Lovie. You don’t exactly know why you got that nickname, but it stuck. And it carried over to most of the friend group calling you that since childhood.

You lifted your head up, the sun beading down on you causing your eyes to slightly crinkle, as you gave her a look that said duh!

Your friends smile widens as she claps her hands together, her excitement palpable as she sits up from her previously relaxed position. Her enthusiasm is infectious, casting a warm glow over the group as they all eagerly cheer in happiness with her. “Mon dieu!” Thank God! It was a squeal of relief. “Maybe you’ll meet a sexy man and fall in love and have his babies so you can forget all about that loser.”

Your heart clenches at the mere mention of your ex. The smile on your lip’s falters just slightly, but you quickly regain composure, determined not to show a hint of sadness surface while on vacation with your friends. With a subtle effort, you smooth away the brief flicker of vulnerability, masking it beneath a façade of cheerful resilience.

You roll your eyes, “Nous verrons.” We’ll see. Your tone carries a hint of mystery as you look back into your magazine, letting the conversation of your friends flow into a different direction.

“Es-tu sûre que tu devrais en prendre unautre?” Are you sure you should have another? Joris says into your ear, making sure you’re able to hear him over the pulse of the music, his arm slung over the back of the booth behind you. You lean into his body, a drunken smile pulled on your lips.

He harbored a slight concern for you. While you were his girlfriend’s best friend, your friendship dated back to childhood, long before his relationship with her, and he held you in high regard. His care for you ran deep, and ever since your break-up, he knows that you haven’t been the same.

“Arrête de t’inquiéter pour moi.” Stop worrying about me. You shove his shoulder gently, before pointing to your best friend on the dance floor. “Inquiéte-toi pour elle.” Worry about her.

You let out a soft laugh as you witness Joris’s eyes widen in surprise at the sight of his girlfriend standing on the stage. With a knowing smile, you begin to slide out of the booth with intent to make your way to the bar, sensing the need for a fresh drink to accompany the unfolding spectacle.

Before you can even slide out of the booth, a fresh drink—scratch that, a refill of your drink, is placed in front of you. Your gaze follows the masculine hand holding the glass, adorned with an expensive watch at the wrist, tracing its path up the arm until your gaze meets Charles’ intense stare. His eyes, dark and captivating, lock onto yours, already filled with questions and a silent understanding.

You slide back over, silently signaling him to sit beside you. As he eases into the spot beside you, the proximity of his body sends a shiver down your spin, the heat radiating from him igniting a primal longing within you. Your bare skin tingles with anticipation as his presence fills the air with an electric charge, a silent dance of desire playing out between you in the dimly lit confines of the booth.

In the midst of the pulsating club music, words between you two remained scarce. Yet, you both found solace in the quiet companionship that enveloped you both. The energy of the club swirled around you, but the warmth of each other’s presence, you felt a profound sense of ease settle, much like a comforting blanket.

It wasn’t unnoticeable to the rest of the friend group. In fact, it was very noticeable. The way you and Charles seemed to find a connection with one another, especially post break-ups.

It’s not that you were never friends, you just were never as close. So it came as a slight surprise to a few of your friends as they picked up the little changes that were made.

Like when Charles refills your drinks for you. Or when he notices that there is coconut in your meal, which you’re very allergic to, and sends it back to the kitchen.

Like when you remind him to put on sunscreen, knowing he tends to burn easily. Or when you find yourselves sitting out by the fire at night, long after everyone went to sleep, just talking about the most random things.

“The CGI in that movie was terrible!”

“It’s a classic! You can’t hate a classic!”

“That doesn’t make the CGI better!”

“I’ll have you know I’m a culinary expert.”

“Charles, I’ve known you for forever. Don’t lie!”

“I’m an innovator! Who else could turn pasta into charcoal with such ease?”

No matter the topic at hand, you and Charles always found yourselves engulfed in laughter, the gentle sound filling the air with warmth and camaraderie.

You didn’t want sadness to cloud your vacation, but sometimes emotions have a way of washing over you like relentless waves. One of the evenings, while your friends made plans to dine out, you made the wise choice to stay in. Although you didn’t want to miss out, you felt that you were not in the right mindset to be out with everyone. Some protested your decision, expressing concern, but you assured them that you would be fine on your own and ready to party it up all day tomorrow.

Charles shot you a funny look as he slid his hands into one of his pockets, leaning casually against the kitchen archway. His white linen shirt, barely buttoned and snug against his muscles, accentuated his tan, making it seem even more vibrant against the stark contrast of the fabric. A single glance from him stirred a whirlwind of emotions within you as you perched on the bar-stool chair, clad in nothing but a tiny pair of sleep shorts and a well-worn t-shirt. It was your ex-boyfriend’s shirt, a garment you should have long discarded, but its comfort proved too irresistible to part with. Despite the pang of guilt that tugged at your conscience, you found solace in its familiar embrace, a reminder of the past you couldn’t quite let go of yet.

The villa you currently stayed in was beautiful. Its whitewashed walls and wrought-iron accents blended modern and luxury all in one. Inside, the warm glow of the setting sunbathed the spacious rooms, casting an ethereal orange hue over the abundance of white and wood-colored furniture. As the click of the front door echoed through the villa, the chatter of your friends faded into near silence as they departed for dinner, leaving you alone in complete silence.

You find yourself eventually nestled in the corner of the oversized couch, cocooned in the warmth of a fluffy blanket draped over your body. With the television remote in hand, you flip through the channels, searching for something to capture your interest. Nothing quite grabs your attention, until you stumble upon a cheesy rom-com you’ve seen hundreds of times.

Lost in a trance, you’re oblivious to the world around you, the gentle breeze whispering through the open windows. The creak of the front door opening barely registers, and it’s only when Charles’ silhouette materializes in the archway beside the TV that you snap back to reality. A soft smile tugs at the corners of Charles’ lips as he gazes upon you, nestled comfortably on the couch, wrapped in a cocoon of warmth. His heart skips a beat at the sight of you, at the sight of your eyes looking at him with such softness.

“Que fais-tu de retour?” What are you doing back?

He shrugs nonchalantly, pushing off from the wall’s archway and making his way toward you. With an easy grace, he plops down beside you, propping one leg up on another couch cushion and allowing his shoulder and head to half-lean against you.

You both settle in a comfortable silence, the sound of the movie filling the air around you with a comforting ambiance.

“Penses-tu jamais que tu le surpasseras?” Do you ever think you’ll get over him?

The words send your stomach into a frenzy of somersaults, and a tightness forms in your throat, making it difficult to swallow.

You don’t answer immediately, instead you stare ahead at the television, your fingers fumbling with the fabric of the blanket nervously.

“Je l’espère.” I hope so.

His eyes are solemn as you look at him. “Parfois,” Sometimes. He begins, straightening his posture so he can fully look at you. “I think I’ll never get over her.”

His words hang heavily in the air, and though they sting a bit, you understand. You share the same sentiment.

“Mais toi,” But you. His hand reaches to yours, the one fumbling with your thigh. His eyes dart between both of yours, like he’s struggling to formulate his next words. “You just,” He starts before squeezing your hand in his. “You just make my days feel easier.”

You nod slowly, knowing exactly what he’s trying to say. “My pain, my heartache, just disappears whenever I’m with you.” Your voice is soft as you speak the words. The truth of them daunting.

“Sometimes I just wish I could turn my emotions off.” You say, unwrapping the blanket from your body, so that it only sits underneath you now. “Like I could just fuck someone and move on.”

Charles’ eyes widen slightly as the word ‘fuck’ slips past your lips. He nearly lets out an audible groan, his eyes tracing the contours of your collarbones peeking out from the oversized shirt that slips tantalizingly of your shoulder.

He licks his lips, swallowing a pronounced gulp, as his eyes trail back to your face.

“Yeah.”

You could feel the tension in the air, like the both of you were considering fucking each other here and now. Charles couldn’t escape the thoughts of spreading you out on the cushions right here, spreading your legs and fucking you with his tongue.

As he locks eyes with you, you feel a flutter in your stomach, your thighs clenching involuntarily as his gaze lingers on your lips. You part your lips to speak, but before you can utter another word, a loud burst of commotion erupts through the front door. No doubt your drunken friends, clamoring for the fire pit.

You and Charles find yourselves in an awkward dance since then. Not too awkward, but the idea of you fucking each other escaped neither of your minds.

It was honestly twisted. The fact that Charles couldn’t stop picturing what you would look like beneath him, what your moans would sound like in his ear. He had fucked his fist twice to the though of you since he even heard the word ‘fuck’ slip past your lips on the couch the other night. It was honestly pathetic.

You couldn’t handle it either it seems. You found your eyes lingering on Charles way longer than necessary. The flex of his muscles as he enjoys a morning workout by the villa’s pool, the small smiles he gives you from across the room, and the small touches he gives as he walks by you has you driving yourself up a fucking wall.

So, when your friends decide to head out for a spa day, you and Charles hang back sitting across from one another a tad too far apart on the outdoor couch for it to be normal. It was as if you needed the space to stop from jumping each other’s bones.

The skimpy red bikini you wore did little to ease Charles’ thoughts. But he couldn’t help but feel grateful for the first time in weeks he isn’t thinking about his ex-girlfriend. No, he’s too engrossed in the idea of fucking you. Hearing your sweet little moans he just knows you would have. Feeling your smooth skin beneath the pads of his fingertips.

Charles could feel himself harden just by glancing at you lounging comfortably on the outdoor couch, the clouds covering the sun engulfing you guys in a moment of shade.

Across the couch from him, you tried to do everything but acknowledge Charles’ longing stare. But you couldn’t. Your body was all tense, in need of a release.

“Charles, will you—”

Before you could even finish the sentence, Charles was standing over your figure on the couch. His hardened cock visibly noticeable in his short swimsuit. The muscles of his thighs flexed before you, as he visibly gulped at the vision of your breasts spilling out of the top.

“Assieds-toi droit.” Sit up. He murmurs softly, his voice carrying a gentle command as he shifts, prompting you to straighten your posture.

Was this really about to happen? You really hoped so.

It was as if Charles can see the desire in your eyes, answering the question of if you wanted this in his head almost instantly.

“Est-ce que je peux t’embrasser?” Can I kiss you? His thumb toyed with your bottom lip, tracing it as he licked his own.

You nodded your head before his lips pressed down onto yours, capturing them in a sweet embrace. His fingers tangled in your hair, gripping it firmly near your scalp as he deepened the kiss, igniting a surge of warmth and longing between you.

A soft moan escapes your lips as he slips his tongue into your mouth, pressing it hotly against yours. He pulls away for a moment, still standing above your sitting figure, as he takes in your blown out pupils.

“Ça a un gout si doux.” Tastes so sweet. His hand remains in your hair, holding your head in place to look at him. His eyes stare at your sightly swollen lips, a clench of need forming in the pit of his stomach.

He falls to his knees before you on the couch, kneeling between your two legs, as his other hand presses against your chest, forcing you to lean back against the cushions of the couch. The sun peeped through the clouds momentarily, allowing you to drink in the sight of just how light his eyes were.

His thumb grazes your bikini cladded core, rubbing light circles in a teasing manner. The pressure of his thumb wasn’t enough, but it was everything you needed.

He looked at you from between your legs, a smirk on his face like he knew just how crazy he was driving you. It was an image you never wanted to forget.

“Touch me.” You begged, a breathy moan leaving your lips as his thumb pressed harder onto your swollen clit.

It was all he needed to hear before sliding your bikini bottoms to the side and shoving his tongue to where you needed him most. The cool air of the outdoors was a stark contrast to the heat you felt between your legs.

He took his time with you, like he wanted to savor every sweet moan you gave him. His tongue flicked around your clit a few times, before wrapping his lips around it. Your hand slid into his brown locks, slightly lightened form the sun over vacation, and pulled as you rutted your hips against his face.

“Mm, that’s it,” He groaned into your cunt, his words vibrating against you, sending your hips into a faster frenzy. He slipped two fingers into you, lifting his head to watch as you lulled your head back against the cushion and took your hands from his head to your breasts. You stretched the bikini top slightly, until your breasts spilled over the tiny triangles, your nipples already hardened from the need that burned within you.

Charles slipped one hand up to your breasts, taking one of your nipples in between his thumb and forefinger and pinching.

“M’god,” You half-shouted, biting your lip to prevent yourself for being too loud.

“Don’t deprive me from your sweet little moans, yeah?” He pulled his lips off your clit for a few seconds, giving you ample time to look at them glistening in you. You nearly came at the sight of it.

He dropped his head back between your legs, flicking fast kitten licks to your clit, which had you careening forward with a cry of pleasure.

He sucked hard on your clit, eliciting loud mewls from you that were like a sweet melody to his ears. Charles could feel his cock straining against the tightness of his swim suit, he flexed his hips into the couch before him, in need of some sort of relief.

He could feel you teetering on the edge of your orgasm, shoving his face deeper into you, his tongue slipping in and out of you at a fervent pace. It hit you hard. Your hips had a mind of their own, as they rode his face, the bony structure of his nose pressing against your clit sending you into a frenzy.

Charles replaced his tongue with his fingers and watched as you came down from your high. His fingers still working you over as he coaxed you through your orgasm, not letting up.

“I knew you would taste like heaven,” He smirks, finally removing his fingers, before slipping them into his mouth, and moaning at the taste of you on his tongue.

You groaned, your pupils blown out as you looked at him, your legs still spread and cunt fully exposed to him and the outside air.

“Need more,” You practically begged.

“Need my cock, hm?” You nodded, wasted no time in answering. He pushed himself up from his knees, sitting beside you on the couch as he pushed his swimsuit down enough to free his cock. It was hot and heavy in your hands as you reached for it, precum already dripping from its tip.

You straddled his waist, raising up just enough for him to slip his cock into your already saturated core. Your hands grip the back of the couch behind Charles’ head, your fingers clenching it tightly as you take in each inch of him. His hands grip your waist, large fingers sprayed across as he guides your movements over his cock.

The squeeze of your cunt on his cock was better than Charles could ever imagine. The fact that he had to use his fist before you was honestly a punishment compared to this.

“Mon dieu,” My God. You groan as his cock stretches your walls. You waste no time in working yourself over his cock, the pleasure of it too good for you to do it slow. You chased that second orgasm as it teetered on the edge. You were already so close.

“That close already?” His smirk was permanent on his face as he flexed his hips up into you, hitting you deeper than before.

You nodded, soft mewls escaping your lips constantly. It was as if you couldn’t shut up now. His hands grip your hair tightly, pulling your head back to look up at the sky, as he pulls one of your hardened nipples in between his teeth.

You didn’t have time to tell him you were coming again, but the clench of your walls on his cock was enough of a warning for him. Your walls fluttered around him repeatedly, as his name fell softly from your lips followed with a string of curses.

As if he couldn’t hold back his orgasm any longer, he lifted you up off him and placed you to the side, his hot cum spilling over his cock and stomach in stringy spurts. Your body was limp against the cushion, your bathing suit covering nothing.

Still hazy from your climax, you look from the blue cloudy sky to Charles beside you. His eyes were glossy as he smiled, like he was fully content.

“Merci,” Thank you. You said softly, an acknowledgment for him giving you what you mentioned the other night.

He nodded once, giving a small smile as if to say thank you back.

It’s been weeks since you and Charles fucked on the outdoor couch of the vacation villa. You haven’t seen each other much since, not that you expected it. You were thankful it helped you forget about your ex-boyfriend just a little bit more. Like you could bare the idea of meeting other men. Which you were.

You claimed that Charles was a one-time thing. Although it was probably the best sex you’ve ever had, you knew you couldn’t do it again. It was a mutual one-time thing.

So, when you found yourself pressed against the bathroom door of the five-star restaurant, your short little sundress bunched up at your waist, and Charles’ cock buried deep in your cunt, it was a little unexpected. Not completely.

It was hard and quick, nothing but a string of breathy moans between you two as he pressed your chest forward into the door. You both came quickly, your chest flushed red and his cheeks slightly pink as if he just performed a hard workout.

“Who’s your date?” He asks, the words slip out fast, like he’s trying to act like he doesn’t care.

You furrow your eyebrow for a second, before looking at yourself in the mirror, Charles standing tall behind your figure. “Just met him last night,” You flattened your hair as much as you could to make it seem normal. “I’m trying to get back out there.”

Charles smiles at you, although it seems slightly pained. “Good. Your ex-boyfriend didn’t deserve you.” His words were kind, and it made you smile that he even bothered to say it.

“I should get back,” You begin, turning to face him. His eyes look at your lips one last time, like he’s contemplating kissing you again. “I’ll see you next week at Joris’s, right?”

He gave you a small nod.

Charles Leclerc is a liar.

Well, a liar when it comes to him saying he doesn’t think about you sexually. The way you feel around his cock. The way your breathy moans turn him on to no end. The way your breasts bounced with each thrust of his cock. The taste of your cunt on his lips.

He’s a liar if he says he doesn’t fuck his fist almost every night to the thought of you.

But he was also a liar when it comes to him saying he doesn’t think about you not sexually. The way you loved to read trashy magazines, the way you always fidgeted with the rings on your fingers when you were nervous, the way your eyes glowed whenever you laughed.

So, when Joris mentions you and a new potential boyfriend, he can’t help but feel slightly annoyed at the idea. The clench of Charles’ jaw at the sight of you and this ‘potential boyfriend’ across the yard at baby shower, does not slip past Joris’s eyesight.

“Y a-t-il quelque chose entre vous deux?” Is there something between you two?

Charles clutches the neck of the beer bottle in his fingers, bringing it to his lips, before straying his eyes from you to Joris beside him.

Charles’ eyes gleamed like he didn’t know how to answer this without admitting feelings he hasn’t even admitted to himself. He shook his head. No. Because there wasn’t.

“Vous étiez proches en vacances.” You guys were close on vacation.

It was just a statement, as if he wanted to see Charles’ reaction. Charles didn’t know if Joris was trying to insinuate anything, but Charles didn’t respond. Not as Joris’s girlfriend, your best friend, popped up behind you both, a tray of cupcakes in her hand.

You sat across the yard, deep in conversation with Theo, at one of the many heavily decorated picnic tables. The short purple sundress that adorned your body is a vision of effortless elegance. Delicate straps grace the shoulders, framing your breasts with a feminine charm. The skirt flows gently with every movement, swaying gracefully in the warm breeze.

You both knew it wasn’t anything serious, at least yet, but he had a way of making you smile, nonetheless. Despite only knowing each other for a few weeks and sharing a handful of dates, he made a point to take his time with you. He was considerate, never pressuring you into anything, especially after you had confided in him about your previous messy relationship one night.

“Tu es belle.” You’re beautiful. Theo whispered into your ear, his fingers toying with the fabric at the ends of your dress, resting right above your knees.

You blushed, your cheeks flaring a light shade of red, as you smiled into your lap. You lifted your head slightly, looking across the yard, where your eyes met with Charles. His eyes already watching you with such heat in his eyes it made your stomach do a somersault.

He felt an intense surge of resentment towards the guy who dared to lay his hands on you, his anger boiling as he watched him lean into whisper into your ear. Your cheeks flushed a brilliant shade of crimson under his gaze, betraying the effect of his words. What could he possibly be saying to you?

It was just his cock you were coming around last week. So, why is this fiery sense of jealousy threatening to consume him entirely?

It didn’t make sense. How could he feel such intense jealousy over someone he never even had a real relationship with? He never even felt this jealous over his ex-girlfriend.

It was just sex.

He told himself repeatedly. It was just sex. But it only made the burn in his chest only grow more.

You were a liar if you said that Charles Leclerc is never on your mind. You were a liar if you said that it was just sex.

Because, for some inexplicable reason, you can’t seem to get Charles Leclerc out of your mind. You remember how he made sure none of your dishes contained coconut, how he bought you those trashy magazines he knew you loved so much, and how he always made sure that you were smiling.

So, when Charles Leclerc stood silhouetted in the doorway of your front door, the moonlight casting a soft glow around him in the middle of the night, you couldn’t help but feel your heart skip a beat.

You took note of his hair in disarray, as if he had run his hands through it a dozen times, and the soft grey sweats that hung loosely on his hips. The taut muscles of his arms peeked out against the seams of the black t-shirt he wore.

“Je n’arrête pas de penser à toi.” I can’t stop thinking about you. He utters the words with a look of anguish etched on his face, each step carefully navigating around your figure as he stands in the foyer of your apartment, a space he’s been in countless times over the years. But never alone. Never without friends.

You close the door and turn to look at him, not realizing just how close he was to you. “It’s like you,” he begins but freezes, taking a step closer toward you. You take a step back, the tight tank top you wore did little to hide your hardened nipples from the cold air, and your back hit the front door. “It’s like you possess every thought I have. Every single thought. You. You. You.”

You sucked in a breath as you looked into his eyes, more darkened than normal, almost as if he was angry at you.

“Qu’est-ce que tu m’as fait?” What did you do to me? His fingers trail up your arm to your collarbones, a trail of goosebumps following in their wake.

You gulp audibly, your lips slightly parted from the feel of his fingertips on your skin for the first time in weeks. You struggle to find the words until Charles is pleading.

He laughs slightly sarcastic, like he can’t believe this is happening to him. “I even bought those trashy magazines that you like so much, a whole stack of them at my place, because I cannot get you out of my fucking head.”

“Dit moi, it’s not just me.” Tell me.

You would be a liar if you said it’s just him. Your hands trail up to his shoulder, your fingers squeezing them in comfort as you stare into his eyes. His breaths getting heavier as your fingers trail his t-shirt classes skin, like he was yearning for it so much, like it burned him.

“It’s not just you.”

He doesn’t give you time to say much more, not until his lips are crashing down onto yours again. Like he couldn’t last one more second without your lips pressed to his.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #f1 imagine

2K notes · View notes

kiwisbell · 3 months

Text

yellow bird [joel miller]

Taking the weight off your shoulders.

whiskey sour masterlist | my masterlist

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

tags/warnings: 18+ (MDNI), dbf!joel, age gap (20s/40s), sexual frustration, academic-validation-to-praise-kink pipeline, these two are in lurvvvv, thigh riding, joel talks you through it, and maybe reveals a side of him we haven't seen yet, a lil fluid exchange, some sweet sappy talk because it's them what do we expect, pure self-indulgence, that’s about it

word count: ~ 2.7k

a/n: this was mine and @cavillscurls's challenge to myself to write somethin short and sweet, thank you mya for being a cheerleader throughout this whole process. and thank you hugely el @northernbluess for last-minute beta reading and telling me it does not(?), in fact, suck dick n cock. i envision this as part of the whiskey sour-verse, but you don't need to read the series to understand what's going on here! this honestly makes me super fucking nervy to post, but i hope you enjoy. xoxo

read on ao3!

follow @kiwisbellupdates and turn on notifications if you'd like to be notified when i post a fic!

The moon is carving a path through the darkening sky, and you’ve been quiet for hours.

You sit at the dining table with your cheek in your palm, lidded eyes flitting relentlessly from one side of the page to another. Every couple minutes, you jot down some notes on your cue cards. Your coffee lies untouched next to your textbook.

Each slash of pen across paper cuts into his chest. You write in bursts of furious energy, the paper sometimes bunching under your fist, black ink smearing—you only ever write in black—one letter into the next. Your jerky looping letters resemble nothing close to your penmanship. Your sentences are punctuated by squiggles rather than dots. The corners of your eyes are moist, your skin glowing gold under a filtered smattering of light from the street lamps outside.

There's a tight line to the curve of your mouth, a gash of colour where your lipstick has faded. Weariness dulls the shimmer in your eye. You keep writing.

“Thought you were goin’ out with your friends tonight,” says Joel.

“Hmm?” You blink slowly, the sound of his voice dragging your gaze toward Joel: dressed in jeans and an olive flannel (a gift from you), he's watching you study, a worried slash between his brows. “Oh,” you say. “No. I bailed.”

A flare of his nostrils as he approaches you from the coffee station is the only indication he gives that he's frustrated. “You’ve been workin’ all day, baby. You haven't eaten.” He slides his coffee mug toward you and switches it with your own. “Here, take mine. Yours is gettin’ cold.”

You start to shake your head. “Joel, it’s—”

“It's either you drink mine,” he says, sliding the milk and sugar toward you, “or you take a break.”

You narrow your eyes. “You hate my coffee.”

“Relationships are sacrifice. C’mere.” He yanks the leg of your chair toward him until you're sitting beside one another. He dips his mouth to your temple, and sleep begins to tug at your eyelids. Still, you keep your books open, if not partially out of spite, as Joel drinks your too-sweet coffee and hides his grimace.

“You hate it.”

Joel’s eyes slide to you over the rim of his cup, his chest pulling taut at the sight of the unshed tear on the outer corner of your eye, teetering.

Your bottom lip wobbles, your last Sisyphean effort to hold the droplet of water at bay, and Joel sets down the mug.

“You hate my coffee,” you whisper, not meeting his eye.

It's the press of his hand to your lower back that makes your fingers tremble, curled tightly around your pen. “There are worse things I’d do for you than drink shitty coffee.”

“So you admit it's shitty.”

His fingers dance up and down your lower vertebrae. “You’re exhausted,” he says softly, his mouth grazing your shoulder. “Come and take a break. Can feel all that tension, sweetheart. Right—”

The warm press of his palm between your shoulder blades. The simple touch ignites pressure behind your nose.

“—here,” he finishes with the pinch of his thumb and forefinger around your brain stem.

Your head lolls gently in his direction. “I know what you're doing.”

An innocent sound pitches out of his throat. “Do you?”

Your lashes flutter as he begins to dig his palm into the tense balls of muscle in your back. The contact, warm and almost gentle, undoes you. The pearl stuck in your lashes shakes free.

The impact of it carving a path down your cheek strikes his heart true. “C’mere, baby.”

Pulling you reluctantly away from your workbooks, Joel sits on the couch and guides you on top of him, your thighs hugging his hips. “This sad face,” he says under his breath, brushing the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip. “So pretty when you’re sad.” Your eyes dip when his stubble ghosts across your jaw, his lips warming the shell of your ear.

You huff, your arms winding around his neck. “You’re wandering into patronising, Miller.”

“Hmm, big words.” His grin carves its shape into your skin. He nips the spot just below your ear and you gasp, your fingers curling in the locks at the nape of his neck. “Told you, baby—such a smart girl.”

You open your mouth to snip at him, but he’s sliding one big, rough hand underneath your silky shorts and pinching your ass. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he says, his pinky finger dipping under your waistband.

“I’m fine,” you grumble, wriggling on his lap. He hums, the downward curve of his mouth on your skin etched in skepticism, his hands pulling you tighter to him.

“Tell me what’s wrong, baby.” His hand slides up your spine, lifting your little silk shirt, the hardness of him caging you in. “Tell me so I can fix it.”

You're gooey and pliant on top of him, hips flexing to fix your thighs around his waist, your body attuned to him in a way you refuse to fight. Joel Miller is yours. He’s always had your back.

“I’m tired, Joel. I keep bombing these stupid fucking tests, and the new guy at work is incompetent, and I haven't had an orgasm in a whole week.”

Sometimes, you're surprised by how deeply you envy your Joel for being so fucking right. For knowing, even when you don't, how deeply your wounds sit.

He frowns up at you, his thumb caressing the curve of your jaw, guilt and understanding pinching his ribs. “And I’ve been workin’ late,” he says.

Silently, you nod, fisting the hem of his shirt. “But that's okay, Joel. I know you work hard. It's not your job to—”

He shakes his head, trailing his hands up and down your soft thighs. “I’ve been workin’ late,” he repeats, his voice thinning, “and I haven't been treating my girl like she deserves.”

Your cheeks warm at the way his hands reach your inner thighs, thumbs ghosting across your hip bones. “That's not true.”

“Baby, you look at me.” He cups you like warm wax and you're melting just the same, gaze sliding up to meet his. Brown, glinting gold as they catch the orange lamplight, his eyes don't leave you. “You need to come?”

Your mouth drops. You really fucking do. If he notices your slip—the way your hips still on his lap, your arms wound tight around his shoulders—he doesn't say nor soothe. “Joel, I didn’t mean to—”

He quiets you with a loving nip at your chin. “You wanna be a good girl?”

A shudder railroads down your vertebrae. Your core is tight, hot, your little pyjama shorts shifting over your pussy, velvet-soft. “Joel, you really don't have to—”

“You wanna come?” he says again, his teeth scraping the shell of your ear before he takes your lobe between them. You gasp, clutching him tight to you, a buoy bobbing above the torrent.

“Yes,” you tell him, breathless, letting him play with the waistband of your shorts. “Yes. I need to come so badly. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I know, sweetheart. I’m a bad man, takin’ my girl for granted.”

It’s not true, he’d never, has not once, and still you whimper at the sound of my girl on his tongue.

“You are a bad man,” you tell him, halfheartedly shoving him in the chest.

“And?” he prompts, drawing the poison from the wound.

“And I need to come.”

Joel’s mouth curves in understanding, the hairs of his moustache bristling in the corners.

“Take ‘em off,” he says. “Let me be good to you.”

You ease your thighs out of your silk shorts, and Joel’s got his hands on your shirt, lifting it up and over your head. A cool shiver snakes from your cool feet, now on the floor as you stand naked before him, to the scruff of your neck. It longs for the touch of his fingers.

“God, you're fuckin’ beautiful.” Joel takes your outstretched hand, tugging you toward him. His palms smooth over the planes of your torso, thick fingers fitting to your ribs, the follower at the altar. It's only when he touches the small of your back that his eyes abstain from their reverent path across your body and meet yours.

“Tell me what you want,” he says plainly, fingers catching at the ends of your hair.

You crowd him, gaze sweeping down his body at the hard length of his cock down his thick thighs and the utter stillness of him when met with your type-A jitters.

“To be your good girl,” you say.

“I know.” It's a whisper in the quiet. Somewhere, distantly, the dishwasher churns through its cycle. A car horn blares. Wind blows. “Sit down.”

You go eagerly to him, your spirit alight with his closeness, the scent of pine and sawdust from a long day’s work, the soft cotton of his flannel, the scrape of his denim along your thighs. Wordlessly, Joel shifts you until you're straddling one of his thighs.

The jolt of pressure to your clit makes you gasp, clawing for purchase on his chest. Your fists wrap around the lining of his flannel.

Oh, God is the vague chant that eats at his liver, chewing on the ripe mass, the wound sealing over to deliver himself once again at your feet. It’s tossed into the space between you, maybe a little blasphemous, maybe thoughtless. It’s the glassy film over your eyes, those irises he could trace in the dark, the call of love that never quiets.

“Feel good?”

The smug bastard. His hand is still soft and sweet on your spine, climbing high only to drop, no longer meeting the resistance of clothing. The cool air puckers your nipples, your body tightening as you pull in on yourself.

“You remember that first night?” he says softly, tucking your hair behind your ear. “You were so cold, baby. All alone and needin' a good strong hand.”

He squeezes your ass, forcing your hips to shift over his leg. The slow grind of your wet seam along the coarse denim makes your thighs tremble. “Fuck,” you whisper. “That's… that’s good.”

He hums like he knows. “You remember what you did that night?” he asks. “Climbed on me, just like this, and made yourself feel good. Thought I’d come in my pants then and there.”

Your breathless laugh hitches in your throat as your hips begin to grind down of their own volition. The friction is rough, unkind, nothing like the gentle press of his hands on your bare skin. Sweat begins to glisten in the hollow of your throat as you throw your head back and lose yourself in the rhythmic roll of your body over his thigh.

“That's it,” he grunts, squeezing your hips, his cock twitching, untouched, in his boxers. You’re smearing your wetness over the denim, washing it dark, letting the light shift over your writhing body. “That's my pretty girl, usin’ me like you need to.”

“Ah, fuck,” you cry out, bearing down the weight of you on his leg, grinding hard against him as you seek your own pleasure.

“Let's hear it,” he urges, gritting his teeth at the sight of your poor swollen clit, needy and glistening, exposed. “Lemme have it, baby girl, c’mon.”

Your moan is strangled, language muddied in your head as Joel surges upright and latches his mouth around your nipple. Biting and sucking raw, his rapacious mouth is warm nectar that pools hot in your belly, his hands coaxing your hips through their movements, guiding you in the dance nonetheless.

“I'm your good girl,” you rasp, the coil pulling tight at the base of your stomach, the hollow bowl filling to the brim, keeping him, coveting him.

“That's right. My good girl.” His hot breath blooms like possessive fingers where his mouth makes contact on your throat, plucking your nerve endings like a bushel of daisies.

“I can feel you, baby girl,” he groans into your throat. “I can feel your tight fuckin’ cunt gettin’ me all wet. Feel you grabbin’ me like a goddamn cat. You close, huh?”

You whimper, your nails scratching at his chest through the fabric of his shirt, your stomach taut as you approach your high, bucking your hips hard against his leg. “Fuck, Joel, fuck! I’m so close—”

“Tell me who you are.”

“I’m a good girl.” You wind your arms around his neck as you begin to list, your breasts pressing into his chest, closeness sparking to flame as your warmth rubs up against him.

He’s steadfast, thick arms holding you upright, as he groans your name into your ear like it's something blasphemous. “Who are you?” he repeats.

“I’m your good girl, Joel! Fuck, I’m yours, your good girl. Oh, God, Joel, please…”

“That's right, sweetheart.” His hand latches around the nape of your neck, slick with sweat, while you bury your face in his throat. “My good girl’s gonna come all over me again, because that's what good girls do, hmm? They make themselves feel good when their bad men go and forget their place.”

You sob his name into the crook of his neck, the friction etching too much into your sore, rubbed-raw flesh. Your thighs hug him tight, hips thrashing hard above him as you come with a shout, your wet mouth dragging along the vein pulsing in his throat and trailing saliva in its wake. Joel doesn’t seem to care, coaxing you through your high when it starts to last a little longer than normal, pulling you so close that you can hardly remember your shape when it’s not slotting into him.

There's a dark spot spreading over his jeans, and your inner thighs are sticky with release. Joel tilts your chin up with his mouth, littering kisses from your jaw to the hollow of your throat. His tongue darts out playfully as his fingers dip between your bodies and tease through your messy slit.

“Joel,” you gasp, your face warm. He lifts two soaked fingers to his mouth and cleans them off with a couple swirls of his tongue.

And he's kissing you before you can retreat into yourself. He turns you inside-out, bares your soul to him, and all you can do is taste the sweet tang of the release you gave yourself.

Your tongues tangle, languid in your mutual exploration, the push-and-pull you've always known. By the time he pulls away to press his lips to your forehead, you're decently sleepy, your muscles gooey and your body slumping sideways in his lap.

“Ruined your jeans,” you mumble.

His fingertips ghost up and down your spine. A cool shudder blooms from each point of contact. He’s still hard, enough that it must ache, but he makes no move to free himself. “I like ‘em this way,” he says.

You roll your eyes. “Such an idiot.”

Clicking his tongue, Joel says, “You treat your elders this way?”

You nip his nose. “Only when they’re sweet on me.”

He chuckles, brushing your hair behind your ear so he can kiss your temple. “You feel okay?”

Your hands slide up his chest, hooking around his neck, your fingers threading together in his hair. “I feel like a million bucks, baby. But next time, you can come inside me.”

The purr registering in your chest has him preening under the attention, his hands coming to rest just above your ass. “I’m gonna tell you what’s going to happen tonight,” he says, ignoring your apprehensive glare. “You're gonna put away your books, and eat a good dinner, which I’ll make, and you’ll rest.”

Your Joel is stubborn in his own way, and it shows in the tension above his brow, the splaying of his hand over your back. You reach for him and smooth out his frown with your thumb. “I’ll do whatever you say, Joel Miller. As long as you make my favourite.”

You could drown happily in the way he smiles. It always comes on slow, like he isn't quite sure of himself, but it will glow in his eyes. It will sing through him like a light through glass.

“Yeah,” he says, “I can do that.”

Your blood calls to him. And you could do it all without him, sure—but he won’t let you.

THE END.

#posting this and running #kiwisbell's fics #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #whiskey sour #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel #pedro pascal #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fluff

1K notes · View notes

sluttywoozi · 2 months

Text

Nothing But Love | jww x f!reader

Wonwoo's never had a girlfriend for Valentine's Day before, or a girlfriend period, so this day needs to be perfect.

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~4.5k | Genre: romance, fluff | Pairing: wonwoo x f!reader

Warnings: food, alcohol, let's pretend it’s the weekend, wonu is loaded (he’s a streamer but i don’t really get into it), wonu’s first relationship aww, wonwoo follows the boyfriend handbook, kissing, some suggestive thoughts, u send him a nude and he malfunctions, no smut in this but i may do a second part if there’s enough interest xoxo

Reader Notes: shorter than wonu (sorry to my tall friends i luv u), wears a dress and heels, has breasts and a vagina

Wonwoo wakes the morning of February 14th with his stomach full of both fluttering butterflies and hefty sandbags. He’s been anticipating this for weeks now and finally, it’s here. Valentine’s Day.

His first Valentine’s Day.

Well, sure, he’s been alive for all the others, but this is the first one he’ll spend with someone, and he’s spending it with you, his girlfriend, his first girlfriend. He begged you to let him take care of everything, made all sorts of preparations, and today, it’ll all come to fruition (hopefully). There’s always the chance things could go wrong, and that’s what has Wonwoo’s mind feeling heavy even as his heart feels light.

He rolls out of bed and scrubs a hand over his hair, not bothering to put on his glasses before he stumbles to the shower, knowing he would forget to take them off and they’d get all fogged up and wet. As he meticulously scrubs down his body, he goes through the plan in his mind.

First, flowers.

He placed an order for a bouquet three weeks ago, one with flowers that were carefully chosen to precisely convey his feelings for you. Red tulips for romance and passion, pink dahlias for eternal love and commitment, honeysuckles for devotion and affection, and baby’s breath spread throughout to symbolize everlasting love. He’s so excited to see how it turned out; you love flowers and have many of the meanings memorized by heart, so he knows you’ll know what they mean as soon as you see them.

Next, he’ll pick up the strawberries.

You adore strawberries in all forms - fresh, shortcake, compote, jam, jelly. Things with strawberries on them are an almost instant buy for you, meaning half the things you own are covered in them. You’ve even got Wonwoo buying strawberry themed items just because they remind him of you, evidenced by the red seeded mug in his cupboard and the patterned apron hanging in his kitchen, used only by you. So for Valentine’s Day, he went with chocolate covered strawberries, specially ordered for you with piped white chocolate hearts and edible glitter.

Then, he only has to wait a few hours before he can pick you up and take you to your favorite fancy restaurant. He made the reservations two months ago, expecting it to fill up as the holiday grew closer and closer, and he’s glad he did considering he checked last night and there’s not a single spot left. He’s sure that’s the case for most of the city, and he almost feels sorry for the people who didn’t plan like he did. Almost.

He closes his eyes as he rinses the conditioner you bought for him out of his hair, running his fingers through the wet strands until they no longer feel slippery and slick before shutting the water off and attempting to shake the excess droplets out. He reaches blindly for the towel and swipes it over his head and along his body until he’s sufficiently dry, stepping up to the bathroom counter and finding his toothbrush. He loads it up with toothpaste and starts brushing, leaning against the counter and huffing out a laugh when he remembers one of the jokes you made last night.

You’re so funny, and so smart, and so cool and pretty and beautiful and cute and everything Wonwoo could ever want. He’s so fucking lucky to have you. These are thoughts he has all the time, and he supposes he really should tell you them more often.

It’s hard to be so open when he still feels so shy around you, though. He’s comfortable with you, of course, but being affectionate or initiating things makes him feel bashful and timid. It’s almost like he’s being granted privileges he doesn’t deserve, and he’s reluctant to take full advantage of them because he doesn’t want to take advantage of you.

He spits and rinses quickly, his phone starting to buzz in his room. He races back, not knowing who’s calling but knowing it could be you. Even with blurry vision, he recognizes your contact picture and swipes to accept, bringing the phone up to his ear and plopping down on his bed clothed in nothing but a grin.

“Hi, baby,” he says, the smile evident in his voice and surely picked up by you. He still gets a little thrill from calling you that.

“Hi, Wonwoo,” you respond happily. “I just wanted to check in and see if I could do anything to help today.”

“I’ve got it all covered,” he assures you with pride, feeling his spine straighten and his chest puff out when you tell him, “Of course you do, you’re such a good planner.”

The conversation easily flows from one topic to the next, with you jokingly trying to uncover his plans the whole time. He can tell you don’t really want to spoil the surprise so he doesn’t give in, redirecting you with every attempt until he’s laying flat on his bed an hour later, his hair dry and his heart full.

“Baby, I wish I could stay, but I have to go,” he reluctantly says, checking his watch and seeing a notification from the florist that your bouquet is ready for pickup.

You say goodbye with a pout in your voice, but he knows it’s more playful than real so he doesn’t worry about leaving you too much. He still, of course, thinks about you the whole way to the flower shop, your voice and your laugh and your beauty on his mind as he coasts through traffic on his motorbike.

The parking lot is full when he arrives, bar the motorcycle spots, and he wonders how many people are here for pre orders and how many are here last minute. They’re all in the same line so it doesn’t really matter, and with a small sigh, he joins at the back.

He wastes time by scrolling through your shared album, the one you made in the early days for memes that swiftly became a repository for pictures of each other. He mostly cares about the ones of you, but it’s nice to see pictures of himself too, to see the way his smile reaches his eyes, to see the love he has for you in them. It’s his turn in what feels like no time, and he gives his name to the clerk, glancing around the shop placidly so they don’t feel like he’s rushing them.

“I’ll be right back with your bouquet,” they say with a smile, turning and disappearing into a back room before emerging with an arrangement of reds and whites. “Does it look like you imagined?”

He beams as he accepts the flowers, inspecting them and naming every single one in his head before turning back to the clerk and thanking them, “They’re perfect, thank you so much.”

He paid when he pre ordered so that’s all there is to it. The queue is even longer when he leaves, and he tries to hide the sympathetic grimace as he passes the long line of waiting people. He hits a bit of a snag when he realizes he doesn’t know the best way to get the bouquet home, deciding in the end to just put it in his backpack and hope for the best.

It’s not a long ride back to his apartment, and thankfully the flowers are only a little squashed when he pulls them out of his bag. They perk up when he puts them in water and the vase he bought for you, green milkglass with little painted strawberries dotted all over, and he smiles proudly, knowing you’ll love both the flowers and the vase.

The chocolate covered strawberries should be ready soon, and he wonders if he should uber to pick them up. Usually, he loves just having a motorcycle, but at times like these, he wishes he had a car too.

If it were any other day, for anything else, he’d ask you to take him. Unfortunately, he can’t ruin the surprise, so you’re out of question. Who else can he ask?

Wonwoo | mingyu will u take me to whole foods

Mingyu | Uhhh, sure, why?

Wonwoo doesn’t reply.

With the strawberries secured, all Wonwoo has to do is wait four hours. He’s picking you up at 6:15 for your 6:30 reservation, and he thanks everyone he can think of - God, Mingyu, Mingyu’s partner - for the fact that they're staying in and Mingyu is letting him borrow his car.

He knows you love the bike, but you’ll probably wear a dress tonight (fuck, he loves you in dresses) and he thinks a car might be better. He can always take you out on a late night ride after you change if you want.

He passes the time first by tidying his apartment and picking out his outfit, and then by doing his streaming for the day, an alarm set to remind him to get ready and go pick you up around six.

It goes off without him realizing it’s been hours, not minutes, since he started, the games blurring together until they felt like one continuous match. He stands on creaky knees and stretches, his face scrunching with the feeling of the ache in his back releasing, before shuffling to his bedroom and changing into the clothes he laid out on his bed.

After brushing his teeth, he messes with his hair, combing through it with his fingers and attempting to get it to lay right. It’s getting longer and he doesn’t really know what to do with it, but you love the length and that’s all that matters to him. He slaps on some moisturizer then sprays some cologne, the one he’s found to be your favorite, before jogging to the door and slipping into his shoes.

The strawberries and flowers are for when you come over after dinner so all he needs are the keys, and still, he almost forgets them. He dashes to the kitchen to grab them, swiping them off the counter and racing back through the door to the garage, telling Siri to text you that he’s on the way as he runs.

Mingyu’s car is nice, a champagne colored Audi sedan, and it hums to life when he presses the remote start. He feels very debonair with his fancy car and tailored slacks, and as he climbs into the driver’s seat, he hopes you’ll be at least a little impressed.

Mainly he wants you to feel special and loved, but he has to admit, he wants to prove himself too, prove that he can be a good boyfriend, a great boyfriend, for you. A boyfriend who thinks ahead and plans and provides, who knows your taste and what matters to you. A boyfriend who’s learned how to make you happy and strives to do so.

It’s not that he thinks you doubt him, it’s just that he feels a little out of his depth with you. This is his first real relationship so he doesn’t have a lot of experience, and while he knows that you’re patient and kind and forgiving, he doesn’t ever want you to feel like he’s falling short.

He tries to remind himself you’ve given no indication you think that as he pulls up to your apartment, sliding into one of the fifteen minute spaces before putting the car in park and getting out. Checking his watch as he walks, he notes the time and smiles. He should arrive exactly when he said he would.

If the fucking elevator would come, that is.

He taps his foot, reaching out and pressing the button again, then tapping it incessantly when it still doesn’t light up.

“It’s broken,” he hears your voice off to the side and whips his head over, his eyes widening when he catches sight of you standing in front of the door leading to the stairs. His hand falls limply to his side, his breath stalling in his lungs as you start to walk closer. You’re holding a purse and your heels, your feet protected by your outside slides and your overnight bag slung over your shoulder, and like he thought you would be, you’re wearing a dress.

It’s strappy, sleek, and you glow in it, the reds and pinks flattering your complexion and the fit flattering your curves, the watercolor silk gliding over your body like he wishes his hands could. A devious voice in the back of his mind whispers that you may not be wearing a bra but he disregards it, focusing instead on how beautiful you look and how few words he has in his brain.

Closer and closer you get and still, Wonwoo is speechless.

He can’t summon his voice, can barely summon thoughts, and when you set your bag down and reach out to feel his sweater, he knows there’s no way he’ll survive a whole night of you looking like this.

“Landlord’s out of town or there would be a sign,” you whisper, letting your hand smooth up his chest and wrap around the back of his neck, your nails lightly scratching his sensitive skin.

As if he were in a trance, he leans down, his eyes slipping closed and his lips parting as he presses them softly to yours. He takes his time relearning the shape of your mouth, rediscovering the different ways it can fit with his as he kisses you, his heart pounding in his chest at the way you kiss him back.

He’s about to swipe his tongue over your bottom lip, about to drop his hands to your waist and deepen the kiss, when the entry door bursts open and voices fill the lobby. He gasps, breaking the kiss and stepping back from you before taking your hand, throwing your bag over his shoulder, and nodding over to the door, “We should probably go. Don’t want to be late.”

Breathless, you blink at him and nod, following when he starts to tug you to the exit. He doesn’t let go of your hand as he leads you to the car, carefully looking both ways before pulling you across the street. Unlocking the car and turning it on with his other hand, he brings you around to the passenger side and opens your door, waiting for you to get in and closing it once you set your purse down.

He jogs around to the driver’s side and slides into the car, checking his mirrors before pulling out onto the road and heading toward the restaurant. He was already listening to your shared mix on the way here, so it’s no surprise when your favorite song comes on. You gasp and aww at him like he planned it and he just laughs and takes your hand again, resting your combined grasp on your soft thigh.

You tell him about your day as he drives, detailing your time at the nail salon and showing him your new set at a stoplight before extolling the virtues of afternoon naps and getting ready slowly over three hours instead of getting ready quickly in one.

Not everything makes sense to him, like how gel can be nail polish and how one can spend three hours getting ready, but he’s happy to listen and happier to feel you squeeze his hand in excitement at different points in your stories. You pull away only to put your heels on, leaning down to buckle the sides and returning your hand to his.

For once, Wonwoo can do valet, so he pulls into the loop in front of the restaurant and hands the keys over, glaring at the other valet when he goes to open your door. The man backs away, holding his hands up and heading to the next car as Wonwoo jogs around to your side. He lives for opening your doors (and paying for your nails and sending you money for food and planning your dates and and and), so you know to wait for him to get it for you.

You told him he didn’t need to do all that in the beginning, but he gently begged you to let him. He’s never been a boyfriend before, he wants to do well, and he’s slightly embarrassed to admit he models his behavior after Mingyu’s. Mingyu and his partner are so happy, so in love, it’s almost displeasing to encounter, and Wonwoo can’t help but want the same for you and him.

Hopefully with less public displays of affection, though the kiss in the lobby earlier doesn’t bode well.

He can control himself though, he must, because being physical in public makes you shy and he doesn’t want you to feel uncomfortable, no matter how fucking cute you are when you get shy. You are okay with holding hands though, and he’s thankful for that as he takes yours to help you out of the car.

He experiences the moment almost in slow motion, his heart stuttering before picking up as you smile up at him and rise, stepping up onto the curb so the valet can take the car. This brings you into his space and his brain goes foggy at the smell of your perfume, his free hand coming up to your waist as if on instinct.

It doesn’t stay for long as you step past him, pulling him to the gilded glass doors of the restaurant. You’ve only come here once as it’s rather expensive, but the food is incredible and apparently the cocktails are too. Wonwoo isn’t much of a drinker but he may indulge in a glass of red wine tonight, especially as he’s planning on steak.

He tugs the heavy door open, following you in and stopping at the host’s desk.

“We have a reservation for 6:30, Jeon Wonwoo,” he waits as the host looks up his name, holding his breath until the host smiles and swipes two menus and sets of silverware from the desk.

“Right this way,” they smile and turn to lead them through a sea of tables. Wonwoo lets you go first, still holding tightly to your hand as your heels click on the marble in front of him.

The table is in a nice spot, a corner booth that's actually quite secluded, and you beam excitedly at him as you slide into your side.

Discussion of what to order begins, with you debating between steak, pasta, and just ordering four appetizers. Wonwoo already knows what he wants so he can devote his focus to helping you choose, though he wants to tell you to just get everything. You’d probably be scandalized by that, especially because this is the kind of restaurant where the menu doesn’t have prices.

In the end, you order pasta and he convinces you to get two appetizers as well, tacking onto his order the other two you wanted. You glower at him half heartedly but squeeze his hand in thanks, already perusing the drink menu.

Wonwoo and you are both lightweights, so it’s likely you’ll only get one and he’s sure you want to choose the best. He already ordered his glass of wine, asking the server for a recommendation that would pair well with the steak and that had a relatively low alcohol percentage.

Wonwoo used to fear you’d run out of things to talk about considering how much time you spend together, but there’s always something to discuss. Some work gossip or scandal in the streaming world to share, plans for the future to draw out, nonsense debates to pass the time that almost never have a winner or a loser.

He’s generally a quiet person unless you get him going or activate the small part of him that’s a little maniacal, but he hasn’t been quiet with you since the beginning, since you asked if you were annoying him with all your ‘chatter’. He made an effort to engage and respond after, and now, it doesn’t even take any thought. Now, talking to you is as easy as breathing is (when you’re not around, at least).

The appetizers arrive, you order your cocktail, and before he knows it, mains are being delivered. His steak is perfectly cooked, tender and pink and flavorful, and the sound you make when you take a bite of your pasta is absolutely sinful. It has him thinking thoughts that do not need to be thought in public, has him remembering things that are not conducive to him looking at you and keeping his free hand to himself.

It’s relatively quiet while you eat, just sprinkles of conversation between bites, you holding out a forkful of your pasta for him to try and him reciprocating with a small piece of steak. You hum in delight and so does he, grinning at the way your shoulders wiggle when you get a particularly tasty bite.

You’re both too full for dessert and he’s got some waiting for you at home anyway, so when you both finish eating, all the server brings is the bill. He’s sure you’re both itching to peek at the total and distressed at the thought of finding out so he keeps it close to his chest, freeing his hand from yours to get his wallet out of his pocket. He slips his black card into the folder and places it on his side of the table, nodding when you rise and tell him you’re going to freshen up.

You’ve only been gone a minute when his phone pings, so he figures he has enough time to answer it before you get back. He smooths his face out, letting the phone read it and unlock before going to his messages.

Oddly enough, it’s from you.

And it’s a picture?

Unsuspectingly, he opens it, gasping at what he finds and slamming his phone face down on the table before anyone else can see the screen.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” he mutters under his breath, forcing a smile when the server picks up the bill and rearranging the napkin on his lap as his dick stirs. Even with his eyes open, he can still see the picture.

Can see you, the straps of your dress down by your elbows and one arm hugging your waist under your breasts, pushing them up for him. Your skin was radiant, the necklace he got you for your three month anniversary resting gently on your collarbones, and your nipples were pebbled, hard (was it cold or did you touch them? fuck, he hopes you touched them).

The server arrives with his credit card and you still haven't returned, so he wills his cock to stop thickening and stands, checking over the table to be sure you haven’t left anything before walking to the front of the restaurant.

Wonwoo | u are evil evil evil

Wonwoo | need them in my mouth

Wonwoo | im by the front btw

He hears heels clicking on the marble behind him and doesn’t need to turn to know it’s you, doesn’t even jump when your arm weaves around his, though he does briefly let his eyes flutter shut when he feels the warm press of your breast against his arm. God and now he knows you’re not wearing a bra…

It takes all of his strength just to take a step forward, and another after that, until somehow he makes it to the valet stand, reaching into his wallet for the ticket before handing it to the waiting employee. You shiver, stepping closer to him when a cool breeze sweeps through, and Wonwoo kicks himself for not bringing a coat.

He’s a bit chilly too so he can barely offer you any warmth but he frees his arm and wraps you up against his side anyway, Mingyu’s car pulling up after just a minute or two. The valet leaves the driver’s side door open and jogs around, accepting the cash Wonwoo slips him as a tip before dropping the keys in his open hand and giving him a nod.

Wonwoo opens your door with his free hand, gently shutting it after you’ve climbed in and gotten settled. He takes large steps around the car, sinking into his side and shifting into drive before slowly pulling away from the restaurant.

He heads towards his apartment instead of yours - you like sleeping over at his place more because he has a nicer bed - and rather than holding your hand, he holds your thigh, your flesh warm through the thin silk of your dress.

The drive is tense, quiet, his fingers tightening on the wheel as your thigh flexes under his hand, your legs pressing together, trapping it. He’s not bold enough to work it higher and he needs to focus on driving anyway, but that doesn’t mean his mind isn’t full of thoughts of sliding it up, finding you wet and wanting, bringing you to the edge and then pulling away, over and over until he turns into his parking spot.

Which happens before he expects it to, his brain so preoccupied that he didn’t even notice the time passing. He shifts into park and exits the car, his hand feeling cold where it used to be touching you, before running to get your door and help you out of the car. He takes a second to grab your overnight bag from the back before accepting the hand you hold out and letting you tug him to the door.

His keycard grants him access, the door unlocking with a click as he wraps his free hand around the handle, pulling it open and following you inside. It’s hard not to stare at you as you walk, at the slope of your nearly bare shoulder, the curve of your waist, the bounce of your ass, and there’s no reason not to, which is just one of the many privileges of being your boyfriend.

Another comes after he’s gotten you into his apartment, your heels slipped off and your arms wrapped around his neck as you kiss him for all he’s worth.

AN: Happy Valentine's Day!!! lowkey for my bestie @sluttywonwoo ily you're the only valentine i need 💖sorry for the fade to black, i do plan on continuing this! i just had to scrap my other idea and i wrote most of this today so my brain is tired, i hope u understand 🫶

Part II

963 notes · View notes

sinsandsweetness · 11 months

Text

CAMERA SHY

(Rick & Daryl x fem!reader)

warnings- 18+ content. extremely filthy smut. not even joking srsly. lots of sex, filming it, unprotected p in v, oral (r!giving), cream pies, fingering, so many pet names it’s kind of sickening, dirty talk, one use of ‘daddy’ cause I just couldn’t help myself, two cocks at once, light choking, cowgirl, little bit of ass play, and spitting. think that’s it <3

notes- thank you guys for all the love on ‘birthday boy’! I’m so glad that so many of you enjoyed it. I thought I’d do a sequel/part 2 for it, where the boys film your alone time. It does occur directly following, but It can be read independently if you want! 3.1K word count.

Please let me know what you think! xoxo

Daryl made his way over to the dresser, no shirt on, just some pyjama pants slung low on his hips. His back still glistening, with water droplets trailing down his muscles. All taut and tan. The sight alone made you shift positions. Moving to your knees so you could squeeze your legs together. How on earth were you still horny?

He ruffled around the drawers contents and pulled out a video camera. A hand held silver one with a flip screen. One of those ones that people would film their home movies on. Christmas mornings and dance parties. Road trips and first steps. Though you’re pretty sure you guys weren’t the only ones using it for something a little less tasteful.

You couldn’t help but look over at Rick while Daryl played around with the thing. Turning it on and checking the battery. Getting it all ready for the movie you were about to make. Rick was biting his smile back. Trying to suppress his excitement about the situation.

They’d talked about this before. How they wanted something for when they had to be away from you. For longer supply runs that left them both a little hot and bothered. Missing you, waiting patiently for them back at home. Thinking about you touching yourself in their clothes. In their bed. Moaning their names and missing them just as much. And it’s not like phones were a thing anymore. You couldn’t call or sext. They just had to wait til they got back to deal with it. To deal with you.

If you were honest, the thought of them filming it, was a little nerve racking. But you wanted your boys to be happy. To always have a part of you available for their needs.

So there you were, sitting on your knees on the edge of the bed, both men standing in front of you, smelling like Irish Spring and laundry detergent. Looking down at you with two sets of the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen. Ricks hand was on your jaw, his thumb rubbing your lip and sneaking it’s way between your teeth. Your eyes were on Daryl, tilting the lens down at you. The little red light intimidating you with its glow. You shifted a little, thighs squeezing together even more, with both your hands shoved in between them.

“What are you squirming for, baby? You gettin’ all shy on us now?” Rick asked, with a teasing tone. Your gaze shifted between them. Swallowing hard. Yes. You nodded a little.

“You’re gonna do great, sweetheart. Just do what you always do. You’re always so good for us,” Daryl’s own hand was making its way to the back of your head, fingers finding their way into your hair.

Their praise helped a little. At least gave you the courage to reach for their waistbands, pulling each of them down. You grabbed them both in your hands, already rock hard in your grip. Both of them kept smiling down at you, giving you a little nod to keep going. “Go on,” they motioned in unison.

So you did. You licked at Daryl’s shaft, getting him all wet with your tongue before moving over to Rick, and repeating the same process. Feeling their grips tighten on your hair and the hitch in their breaths was all you needed to step it up a notch. Being sure to look right at the camera, you wrapped your lips around Daryl’s cock and started to move your head back and forth. Sucking him off all sloppy and messy. Just the way he likes it. Blushing hard but forcing yourself to step out of your comfort zone. This was for them.

You could feel a pearl of Rick’s precum drip onto your hand as you jacked him off, so you decided to swap. A string of spit from Daryl’s tip was still connected to your lips as you started on Rick. Keeping your hand on the other man, being sure to give them equal attention. You never wanted one of them to feel left out. Not that they ever did. They both knew how much you worshipped them.

You kept swapping back and forth. Gagging every so often when one of them would push a little too hard on the back of your head. Spit started running down your chin, and little sounds escaped the back of your throat. The whole situation created a pool of wetness in your panties. Surely soaking through the fabric.

Rick took you by the hair, pulling you off of him with a ‘pop’.

“Feels real good, baby. You look so pretty with your mouth wrapped around us.” He started, thumb rubbing all lovingly against your cheek bone. “But I think we’d like to get these panties off and give the camera a good look at some of your other pretty parts.” Rick playfully shoved your shoulder. So you dropped back onto the cool comforter. Knees coming up and crossing your ankles in anticipation, waiting for whatever plans the two were silently deciding on.

“So fucking wet, Daryl. Look at her.” Rick said, hands parting your legs so they could settle in between them. You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks at their words. Their amused little laughs.

“Soaking right through, isn’t she? Sucking us off turn you on, sweetie? Is that it?”

“Uhuh. So much.” You nodded, propping yourself up onto your elbows. Both men on the mattress in front of you were making themselves comfy. Hands started trailing up your legs and playing with your boy shorts. Tracing the wet spot as your hips bucked. You were just so ready for them. Cunt still puffy and aroused, and even a little sore from your first round. But so, so ready for another.

Daryl made sure to capture Ricks fingers, tracing the wet spot of the cotton, and rubbing circles against your clit. Over your underwear, teasing, poking and prodding. Pulling them to the side when you whimpered a little, and his index finger glided through your slick with ease.

“Always so wet for us. Such a pretty pussy. So fucking pretty.” Rick praised, mesmerized at your swollen cunt. Practically throbbing for their attention. You lifted your hips as Daryl dragged your panties down. Throwing them off to one side of the room. They spread your legs so wide that your muscles hurt. Inner thighs stretched out and knees hooked around either man. Pulling them closer to you and eachother. Not that they minded.

They played with your pussy for a while. Getting you all sorts of worked up. Both of their fingers inside of you, stretching you out and making you groan. Clutching at the comforter below. Rick spat right on your clit, and you just about came right then and there. Unbelievable turned on by their focus. They slowly worked away at you, curling their fingers inside you and rubbing at your sensitive nub with their thumbs, definitely showing off a little for the camera. Taking everything just a a little slower than normal. So that they would have the most footage possible. Capturing your moans and whimpers and the way you moved against them. Desperate for more.

“Please I just- I-” your hips bucked further on to their fingers, and you could see the little look they gave each other. All mischievous and lustful. “What is it sweetie? You wanna cum? Is that it?”

You nodded eagerly. But with your confession, both men’s hands withdrew. Causing the quietest whimper to leave your mouth.

“Ugh,”

“Don’t complain. We just want you to cum on our dicks, that’s all. Isn’t that something you want, princess?”

It was more than ok. In fact it was preferred.

“Wanna cum on your cock, please.” You whined, pulling at Rick’s tee shirt

He groaned. He didn’t mean to. It’s just what your words could do to him.

“You will, sweetheart. I promise.”

You did. And it would have been a lot sooner if it weren’t for the damn camera in Daryl’s hands.

They had you get on top of Rick, straddling him as he sat up against the head board. Daryl started getting creative with his angles, with the camera behind you as he played with your ass, all while you rode Rick’s cock. Bouncing up and down as you held onto his shoulders. Pressed nice and close to his chest. His hands trailed up your shirt, peeling it off so he could grope your breasts, pinching your nipples nice and hard. Eventually his fingers wrapped themselves around your throat and squeezed gently on the sides.

He was stimulating every part of you that he could think of. His tongue was in your mouth the whole time. You stayed moaning against his lips and grinding down against him. Desperately trying to achieve more friction against your clit. It was driving you both wild.

Daryl stayed filming the whole thing. His own hand grabbing at your ass, thumb prodding at your other hole. Threatening to split you open once again. You were shocked he wasn’t touching himself. That he wasn’t getting his own dick wet. That he could actually keep the camera focused, even with the sight in front of him. The pure temptation to join in must have been killing him. Leaking precum all over his plaid pyjamas. That thought made your hips stutter. Along with the fact you’d be riding for what felt like ever. Your legs were starting to wear out. Muscles becoming all heavy and forcing you to switch from a bounce to a grind. Rick noticed you tiring out and decided to start fucking you from below. Hands moving to grip your ass cheeks and help you bounce. An actual cry left your mouth and you both knew you were close.

“Ohmygod, ohmygod, I’m- Rick I-” you babbled against wet lips. Trying to hold off as long as possible, but he just kept hitting that damn spot. The spot that made you physically convulse around him. When Daryl’s dick pressed against your ass and you felt his hand squeeze your waist, that was it. You snapped like a rubber band. Cumming all over Ricks lap, your head fell back against Daryl’s chest as your rode out your high. Your body starting to twitch from the intensity of the orgasm. A very shaky sigh left your mouth as you all stopped to a halt.

“Feel good?” Daryl asked, lips brushing your ear, camera over your shoulder and pointed at Rick. The grainy screen was displaying his pretty face, lips parted and wet. Eyes focused on you. The lens moved down to show your hands. The ones still gripping Rick shoulders, tight enough to leave marks. He smiled when he noticed.

“So good. You make me feel so good, daddy. Both of you. Both my-” you were catching your breath. Rambling in your post orgasmic daze and drunkenness. But they weren’t done. And you knew that before you even came. They wouldn’t be done for a while. Even with your pussy practically raw and begging for an ice pack. You should have been begging for a break, yet somehow you were still dripping with need.

“One more, baby, then we’ll get you some rest okay?” Daryl asked all sweet, hand trailing under your shirt to squeeze at your breast.

“Want you both...” You whimpered. Rick’s cock still stuffed inside you. Filling you up and making your walls twitch. Yeah, you weren’t done.

You tried to get up. Figuring that they’d want you in another position. Something to switch it up. But when you pushed on Rick’s chest and tried to lift, they held you down, keeping you on his lap.

“What are you tryna do?” Rick smirked at you, wrapping his hands around your ass and moving your body for you. Grinding yourself against him again. The sound of your wetness squelching and making you blush.

“Was gonna move, I thought-”

“I’m really enjoying this view. Aren’t you?” Rick said, leaning in for another kiss. He always loved eye contact. Loved seeing your expressions and feeling your moans while you kissed.

“Mhm.” You agreed against his mouth. There was really no sense arguing. Even though you’re quads were on fire and you could barely lift yourself off of him to continue riding.

Daryl moved to place the camera on the bedside table. So that the three of you were in the frame. When he came back behind you, hands on your hips as he started kissing down your neck, your shoulders and the top of your spine. All while Ricks hands rocked you against him, fucking into you nice and slow.

“You gonna let us fuck your tight little ass again sweetie? Or do you want to get that pretty pussy all stretched out?” Daryl asked.

You turned to try and look at him. A little shocked at the suggestion. There was no way that would fit. Right?

They both chuckled at your reaction. Daryl’s thumbs already pushing themselves in to your asshole. Stretching out the tight muscle.

“We can do that?” You asked. Never even having considered it. But it was definitely intriguing.

“We can. Might hurt a little though,” Daryl warned you, catching your lips as his fingers moved down even further. Using your excess wetness to push his index in your pussy. Still stuffed full of Rick. You gasped as he hooked his finger upward. Even Rick made a little sound. Surprised by his own dick being touched and your walls stretching even further.

“Wanna try…” you sighed. Trying your hardest to relax your muscles. To allow them to actually ruin you. Split you in half on both of their cocks. You couldn’t imagine a better pain.

“Ok baby, we’ll give it a try. Just tell us if you wanna stop, ok?”

“Go real slow Daryl. Let her get used to it.” Rick told the man.

“Let her get used to it. Or you?”

“Both. Seriously, just go slow. Don’t wanna break her.” You could feel Daryl suppressing a quiet laugh against your skin. Two fingers now moving inside of you, getting you ready for his cock.

“Alright, come down a little,” he retracted his touch and pulled you by your hips. Both you and Rick shifting downward so he could lay back. His head pressed against the pillow. He stayed inside of you as you leaned forward, opening yourself up for the man behind you. Kissing the side of Ricks mouth and up to his earlobe. Knowing exactly how much he loved that.

Daryl spat on your hole. Moving foreword and pressing his tip against you. Pushing ever so slowly as the two of them stretched you out.

It hurt. But you expected that.

“Breath, sweet girl. Gotta breath, ok?” Rick told you, hands wrapping around your ribs nice and tight, holding you up since your legs were completely useless. Daryl’s hands were on your hips. Pulling you down onto the two of you until he managed to actually fit himself inside. All of him. Him and Rick. Inside of you, together. It was hard to even believe. But you were so stretched out, there was no denying that it was possible.

“Oh god,” you mumbled at the realization. At the feeling of being so fucking full.

“Oh god.” Rick repeated with a grunt. It was even better then last round, you realized. At least for them. Having the added pressure of another cock, rubbing up against them both. That extra friction affecting you all.

“You two all good?” Daryl tried to confirm, his breaths a little laboured as well.

“Yes!” You squeaked, realizing that Daryl had started to move. Thrusting slowly into you.

“Y-Yes. “ Ricks eyes were rolled back. The two of you breathing hard. And the sight of him in so much pleasure made your walls tighten. Earning another groan from them both.

“Keep going. Keep fucking me, please.” You asked them politely. Your wetness was running down your inner thigh.

So they fucked you. Rick from below, and Daryl from behind. Completely abusing your pretty little hole.

Rick was in heaven. You could tell by his eyes. All glossed over with his lips parted, breathing impressively slow. He was trying to focus on not cumming so quick. Daryl’s hands gripped your hips real tight. Snapping his own right against your ass. Nails leaving little crescent moons in your skin. Whispering little praises in your ear.

“So fucking tight for us. Such a good girl, always taking us so well. Doing so well, baby. So, so, good.”

You’d never taken them both. Not like this. And having them both together, was intense. Hitting every single spot inside of you. Ones you didn’t even know about. Ones that made you cry out and call their names.

“Still ok, baby?” Daryl asked, becoming just a little concerned by the sounds pouring out of you.

“Gonna cum, Dare, gonna- oh, oh.” You could feel a tear slip onto your cheek. Wet and salty when it hit your lips. The pressure and the buildup catching up to you. Hurting so fucking good. Your core was all hot and tight and your head became fuzzy.

“Don’t stop,” you whined, burying yourself into Rick’s shoulder as your orgasm rippled through you. A burst of heat running down your thighs and up your stomach. Waves of pleasure pulsed through your core.

The two of them moaned your name and a couple other profanities. Honestly, you didn’t hear. A little too hazy to pay close attention. They each came inside of you. Their seed physically flooded out of you when Daryl finally pulled out. Very slowly and carefully, so it wouldn’t hurt you too bad. And Rick too. So gentle and caring. Both boys Immediately getting you to lay down between them. Your pussy was fucking aching. But you didn’t mind too much. They kissed you lots. All over. Asking you a million times if you were ok. If it was too much. If they wore you out too badly.

“Gonna have to give you some time to recover, huh?” Rick asked, coming back from the kitchen. An ice cold glass of water in his hand.

“You’re sure we didn’t hurt you too bad?” Daryl added. Rick picked a towel off the hook on the back of the door. Bringing them both over for you.

“I liked it.” You responded. Not fully answering their questions. You would definitely need a few days. At the bare minimum. Your cunt was swollen, and you could feel it. Rick handed you the water and you drank up. The coolness coating your throat. Gulping a few sips down and passing the rest to Daryl beside you.

“Gotta get you all cleaned up,” Rick started with the towel in between your legs, wiping up the pearly mixture that had coated your thighs.

“Again…” you joked, smiling up at him.

“Bath? Shower? Just the towel? What do you want?” He smiled back.

“Mmmm… bubble bath,” you bit your lip.

“Bubble bath?” Daryl asked from beside you, smoothing some of your hair down. Trying to tame the unruly mess.

“Mhm,”

“Only if we can watch.”

“You can film it for all I care,” you turned to catch his lips. Grinning against your mouth.

They sat down on the vanity stools and watched as you laid your head against the tub. Both of them smiling down at your cuteness. Soapy suds hiding your body under the water. Only the tops of your breasts threatening to breach the surface. The hot water and lavender bubble bath doing wonders for your sore muscles. You were sure they’d give you a massage after, if you asked all nicely.

Despite the undeniable toll on your body, you’d relive the night again in a heart beat. Having them split you open all over their cocks was always ideal. But seeing Rick’s face as you got double stuffed, was the cherry on top. Shuddering beneath you and cumming with an actual moan. Accompanied by Daryl’s stuttering hips and grunts of his own. Each of you fucking eachother into a mess of pure ecstasy.

Thank fucking god they got it all on camera.

taglist: @rickswh0r3 , @elnyrae

[ comments and reblogs are always appreciated ]

#rickyl smut #rickyl #rick grimes smut #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes x y/n #smut #twd fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x y/n #rick grimes x reader #daryl dixion x reader #rick grimes x daryl dixon x reader #rickyl x reader #sinsandsweetness

2K notes · View notes

dark-and-kawaii · 1 month

Note

Thank you for writing such good breeding kink. 🫡 This war needs good soldiers like you. Raphael and Haarlep breeding is my actual kryptonite.

Bred By The Incubus & Devil

-Separate Stories-

Haarlep x f!Tav/Reader - Raphael x f!Tav/Reader

18+

⋆˙⟡♡ Notes: You are so so so welcome!!! Thank you for the love and support you beautiful babe!!! I’m happy to provide!! And because we are both weak when it comes to Raphael & Haarlep breeding I wish to bestow this gift to you!!! xoxo have a beautiful day/night!!! I hope you enjoy xoxo

⋆˙⟡♡ Raphael ♡⟡˙⋆

“Mmmm, Raphael?” You whispered, “My devil, I’m achy again.”

Your pregnancy was the result of his desire, his deliberate act of claiming you, breeding you until your form swelled with the successor he sired. The early arrival of your milk, too, unfolded by his command, for he would lavish attention upon you, coaxing the initial droplets into constant flows that ensured your thoughts were filled only with him, marking you unmistakably as his own.

Your hand drifted to one of your hard nipples, your breast so swollen it was already starting to leak. You whimpered quietly to yourself before nudging Raphael softly, “my king~” and he began to stir. You bit your lip while watching him, his hair disheveled, his brows furrowed, he was so beautiful like this, and it was a sight only for your eyes.

You leaned into his warmth, pressing a kiss against his collarbone and then the base of his neck, his scent so thick here. Your hips rocked slightly against his thigh, your heat slickening his leg.

You knew his cock was already hard, ever since you had given him the crown the thing always seemed to be hard when you were near him. It was like an unspoken instinct for him to fill you up with his seed, to make you round and fat with his child.

“Always such an eager little pup,” he teased, his voice still heavy with sleep. He moved without hurry, his movements precise and practiced as he pulled you on top of him, the way he liked you best.

It wasn't long before he was deep inside of you, filling you completely. You were still a little tight, but with your pregnancy and constant fucking, your body was quickly becoming accustomed to the intrusion.

You rocked back and forth, rolling your hips just the way he liked, the way that drove him absolutely wild. You gasped and moaned, his hand gripping your hips so tight they would certainly bruise later.

“Such an obedient mortal,” he said through gritted teeth.

You whimpered softly, his praise making you gush.

“Do you wish to cum, pup?” He asked, his voice teasingly soft.

You nodded, your hips never stopping their steady rhythm, “Ye-yes my l-love~ b-but my breasts~♡“ you panted and moaned.

He grinned, his smile devilish, “Please articulate your desires with grace. Should your request be presented with courtesy, I may be inclined to fulfill it, little mouse.”

You flushed a deep shade of red, the nickname he gave you only adding to the effect, his words were like fire on your skin, you could never get enough of them.

You took a breath, steadying yourself, before finally speaking, the words falling from your lips in a sweet song, like honey, “I- I wish for you to relieve me, my Archdevil~. I wish for you to taste the fruit of your labor, and drain the nectar from my breasts~.” Your cheeks were a deep red, embarrassed by the things he made you say.

Raphael smiled, he loved the way you submitted to him, the way you obeyed, the way you said what he wanted you to say. You were so perfect, so beautiful, and it was his will that you would remain by his side for eternity, his precious little mouse.

He had chosen you, after all.

He could have anyone, yet he chose you. Such a gift was not one to be taken lightly.

“Very well,” is all he said before you felt his tongue upon you, the flat of it gliding against the swollen skin, before his lips enclosed around the pert little bud. You moaned and writhed, your fingers digging into his shoulders, your hips moving erratically. The feeling of instant relief and ecstasy overwhelming you.

It was a taste Raphael would never grow tired of.

You tasted sweeter than the sweetest wine, better than any of the delicacies the world had to offer. His tongue swirled around your nipple, his mind drifting to the thoughts of impregnating you again after this child was born. Would you let him? You had no choice in the matter, he would take what he pleased, as he was entitled to do.

You were his and his alone.

You were his Queen.

His little mortal.

His precious, precious little mouse.

⋆˙⟡♡ Haarlep ♡⟡˙⋆

With Haarlep now accompanying you in Baldur's Gate, their presence by your side in public spaces became constant. The sight of strangers eyeing you as if you were available incensed them deeply. You belonged to Haarlep, solely theirs, and they were determined to make that clear to everyone in the city. If demonstrating their exclusive claim over you was what it took to deter prying eyes, then that was precisely what Haarlep would do...

Haarlep was relentless.

“Beg, little dove-" they hiss, hauling your legs up so easily to your chest, “beg to be filled yet again~”

“Hgh~ Haarlep! P-pleeeease~ ♡” you whined, tears rolling down your cheeks. The stretch was always unbearable at first but gods did it feel good once you grew accustomed to it.

The strong grip they had on you was definitely enough to bruise where their fingertips dug into your soft flesh, “Nhh’~ M-more, please~ F-fill me with your thick, hot cum~ ♡ P-please, I need it~ I wan’ it- Hhhngh~"

"They stare at you with such hunger-," his thick thighs heavy on your body, “but their precious savior belongs to an incubus,” Haarlep smirked, “a vile creation that feeds off of her soul and pleasure-“ another snap of their hips, “Would they still stare at you with such preying eyes if they knew what was about to be growing within you I wonder~”

Your eyes widen, a fresh wave of arousal and excitement washing over you.

"I'll make sure the whole city knows whose precious hole this is," the incubus hissed, a low chuckle in their throat, “that their hero was defiled by a fiend, impregnated by a creature of the Abyss~ How delicious indeed~”

In all truth, there's so much of Haarlep’s cum in you already, that you were probably bloated by now- at least you felt like you were. Haarlep had never been inclined towards gentleness, only on rare occasions… This was not one of those rare moments. This was about their sense of ownership over you, and it had escalated to unprecedented levels… Especially after watching a halfling man eyeing you for far too long for their liking…

Your little whines are enough to provoke a growl from the creature, sliding their stupidly large cock back into you, their thick body heavy against yours, “You are mine, my little dove~ Solely my hands have the right to claim you in such a manner, only I can elicit those cries of my name from you, hm?"

"M’yours~ All y-yours~" your hands reach out, gripping onto their biceps, trying to hold onto anything, trying to ground yourself.

Your body was shaking, the feeling of your cervix relentlessly fucked made you a whimpering mess, the only word you knew was their name, and even that was a struggle.

Your walls clench and cling to their thick, long cock when they pull back out before pushing in again, much faster, fucking their last load of cum into you again. The ring of cream around their cock and the wet, sloppy sound of their hips meeting yours was a filthy symphony.

Haarlep chuckled darkly, “You will look so radiant while bearing my offspring~"

It was a fantasy of yours, one you had only recently brought up with the creature .

"Hah- ah~ ♡!!”

It was all so perfect.

The sloppy sounds of your cunny being destroyed by an incubus, their threat- no, their promise to fill you with their hot seed until you were swollen with their child- children, your body covered in sweat, tears, and bruises. It was the life you wanted, the life you craved after bringing them back with you.

"I want all the devils of the nine hells and all the mortals in this realm to know just who you belong to!”

They noticed how your eyes fluttered back at the mere idea of bearing their child. It was a fresh fantasy Haarlep harbored and was eager to realize…

And so they did.

Again.

And again.

Three children later, your beauty and suitability for the incubus remained as impeccable as when they first made you theirs. Your abdomen, once again enlarged with another child they had sown within you, didn't diminish your allure.

Haarlep, with a smile at the vision of your curved abdomen, declared, “I will ensure that you always remember who reigns over you~”

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #raphael bg3 #haarlep #tav #raphael the cambion #raphael x tav #haarlep x tav #raphael x reader #haarlep x reader #bg3 smut

333 notes · View notes

romancingdaffodils · 6 months

Text

Love Kills

City Rockers

part two of Love Kills

bassist/rockstar!Remus Lupin x Reader

warnings: swearing and description of blood

The tension between the two of you only seems to build as Remus faces a rather nasty injury. Naturally, you help him out. He gives his thanks in a rather mind boggling way.

haiii did you miss me AGAIN xoxo

thank you so much alex for alll your help on this one means a lot :3

Often it’s said that punks are the nicest people you’ll ever meet. Terrifying on the outside, but lovely on the inside. Clearly, when put into a venue, this philosophy completely disappears. The gig goers habits of unplugging amps and launching glass bottles didn’t seem too lovely at all. In fact, you were quite against the whole idea or at least you were after the incident. However, it could make nights a whole lot interesting. It was what also led to the instruction of don’t get hit. Which then allowed, Remus to completely disobey this command. As a result of this, blood poured down his face. Surged, gushed, streamed. A bottle had collided directly with his head and had clearly left him with with an injury directly above his eye. The crowd went silent before erupting into even louder cheers. Freezing in shock, the soon-to-be-blood soaked man stared directly into the crowd. Immediately, James stopped singing and whipped his head around to the noise. Which, in turn, caused both Sirius and Pete to turn and look over at Remus. Another bang signified the speakers blowing and as the boys started up playing again to try to kill the time, it suddenly dawned on everyone. Amps had been unplugged too; fans had taken the band’s distraction with Remus as an opportunity. Worst first show ever. Praying to whatever gods to give him strength, Remus picked up playing again as Frank rushed around plugging the amps back in.

Anxiously, you bit down on the inside of your cheek as the band pushed through everything going wrong at once. Thankfully, Alice had managed to fix up the speakers relatively fast and was now stood beside you with a similar distressed look on her face. Unfortunately, the man’s determination to continue playing didn’t stop the bleeding. It was everywhere.

Red poppies turned into bloody rivers as the white vest he was wearing became soaked. He had discarded his outer layer of a jumper at some point during the first song, leaving his perfect arms on display. Now hardly seemed like the right time to be thinking about that though. But, your brain didn’t really seem to listen.

Some of the red liquid had caught in the hair that drifted down towards his eyebrows. Drying up in the sandy tuffs, the blood would be difficult to get out; part of you wanted to drag him off stage and patch him up there and then. Push a small kiss to his forehead, and rinse the blood out of his hair. The rest of the substance had meandered at what felt like the speed of light all the way down to his bass. After staining his white clothes it moved onto the white pick-guard on the body of the long instrument. Somehow, Remus seemed to have picked the worst colours for this to happen. Or, you might argue - if he wasn’t a friend in pain - the best colours because he looked practically edible. On a bad day, he looked positively gorgeous. There, he looked like everything you’d ever wanted and more. You’d never felt more guilty for having a crush on someone before then.

Droplets dribbled down from the bass onto the floor and your eyes finally moved to Remus’s face. You’d been able to look at the area of the wound as you found yourself quite fearful it would be serious. Half of his face was doused in blood and one eye was screwed shut, leaving him in a permanent wink. Thankfully, your gushing over Remus had made the show move a lot faster and the end of the encore ripped through everyone: crowd, band and roadies.

Remus was the first off stage.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Remus.” you exclaimed, grabbing hold of his wrist to get him to stop moving. The gushing blood was forcing him into a permanent wink and you winced just looking at the gash. “Sit down, I’ll go get the first aid kit. Fucking hell.” you said, pushing him down onto the couch. Surprisingly, he didn’t fight back. Now, it was your time to scramble. You ran down the corridor and yanked the first aid kit from the cupboard before immediately running back. Crouching down in front of him, you gave your best relaxed smile. He tried his best to return it. Your mind seemed to be a swirling mess of thoughts of how gorgeous Remus actually was and thoughts of how on earth you were going to clean this cut up.

“How bad are we thinking?” he asked, wincing as he spoke. He already had a rather impressive collection of scars dotted around his body; you figured this was nothing new to him.

“Dunno yet, you alright if I clean it up?” you asked, blue paper towels ready and waiting. He nodded his head and you stood up. Slotting yourself between his legs, you used the damp towel to wipe away the blood that had dripped down his face. It was an odd texture, like partially dried nail varnish.

You stared at the cut, checking for any shards of the glass bottle. None were there from what you could see, thank god. They must’ve fallen out during the performance. “So they just, throw bottles? At you? On stage?” you asked, trying to keep him talking as you applied a small amount of pressure. Thankfully, most of the bleeding had stopped by now; it was just a game of preventing the gash from getting infected.

“And unplug amps, and don’t make us famous enough for a better venue. Fuckin’ shit hole.” he replied, staring up at you through his eyelashes. With all the blood cleaned away from his face, he looked up at you with both eyes wide open. You shook your head, giggling quietly. Armed with an antiseptic soaked cotton wool ball, you began cleaning the actual cut

“Sorry, know it stings. Talk to me about something, anything.” his comfort was your top priority. He smiled up at you, shaking his head.

“Know what you’re trying to do, love, don’t need to. You’re not stupid, you can tell I’ve been through this before.” he said, smirking up at you. Resisting the urge to wipe the smug look from his face, you instead give a large frown.

“Just trying to be nice, let me be nice.” you complained, biting down on your lip as you continued to clean the wound.

“You’re being nice enough already.” he stated, plainly.

“You’re so lovely Remus!” you shouted over the bar’s blaring music. A hiccup ricocheted through your body as you giggled up at him.

“Yeah, you want me to get you some water?” he asked, batting his eyelashes at you. Sirius really did always keep his best friends hidden from everywhere else. Remus was entirely certain that the fact he hadn’t met you before that night should be a crime, so much so that he’d never forgive Sirius for it.

“No! You’re being nice enough already.” you stated, staring up at him blankly. He shook his head, but didn’t disobey your command. He thought he might die on the spot if he left you any sooner than needed.

Your face flushed at the sound of your own words being repeated back at you and the fact Remus remembered word for word what you had said to him. He grinned. You frowned.

“Butterfly strips now, aren’t they cute? They’re like stitches but not stitches, dead new too. I thought Sirius would get in a bar fight or something, that’s why I brought them with me, not that you’d be scrapping with glass bottles.” you rambled as you dug around in the tote bag beside you. Some gut instinct had told you to pack them and it must’ve be whatever gut instinct had you swooning over Remus.

“Yeah? They are pretty impressive.” he replied. His eyes held a hint of honesty he’d never admit as he admired your rambling. Remus Lupin could listen to you talk for hours. Remus Lupin, who preferred to spend his pre-show routine alone in silence; who adored the quiet of libraries and the very slight hum of a small cafe; who often had to put himself at the back of the tour bus just to get some peace would happily listen to you babble on about whatever nonsense.

“I know, right? ‘s so cool how they come up with these things. Right, this bit will genuinely hurt so, I’m really sorry in advance.” you said, giving him a sheepish grin. If the antiseptic was the foot soldiers, think of the butterfly strips as being the artillery. Carefully, you slotted yourself back in between his legs. Your hand pushed the two edges of the cut together whilst the other stuck the strips over the stop, a way of holding the wound together. Instinctively, Remus’s hand shot up and grabbed your wrist, eyes closing at the pain.

“All done.” you whispered, but his hand didn’t move from your wrist. Your eyes drifted down to his own as you smiled at him.

“Thank you.” he whispered back to you. His eyes mapped out a triangle on your face, subconsciously. He truly could not get enough; his hand still didn’t move. The silence in the room was unbearable and you were silently begging Remus to do something. Anything. He must’ve heard your pleas somehow because he stood up.

If you weren’t close enough to him before you almost certainly were now. The only thing separating the two of you was his looming height and even then that wasn’t doing much as his head was tilted down. You couldn’t read Remus. The now three very dramatic times you’d met, you’d never been able to read him.

“Happy birthday Sirius!” you shouted as you waltzed into the Potter household. It was your first time there, ever and my god was the place gorgeous. It was easy to forget how privileged one half of the band were. Sirius had grown up rich with a shitty family and in many ways James had won the game of life. Good family with lots and lots of money, which explained the oversized house that sat in the middle of nowhere.

“Awww, thank you. Look how lovely they are.” Sirius said, taking the gift from your hands and immediately running off to open it. ‘Child’ you thought to yourself as you smiled.

“Hello you.” Remus waved as you walked over to the kitchen counter, where everyone else stood. You didn’t notice it, but Lily raised her eyebrow and whispered something to James. The two stared at you and Remus for the rest of the night. He didn’t speak to anyone, but you.

“Hi. Don’t look at me like that.” you said, scowling up at him. He laughed and put his hands up beside his head with a false offended look.

“Look at you like what?” Remus fought back, though his smirk and small gave away what he was thinking. Or, at least you thought it did. He was referencing your drunkenness on the first night you met with that look, Right? You racked your brains, staring up at him with your mouth agape.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking.” you admitted, still looking up at him. He shook his head and gave another smirk.

“Do you need to?” he replied.

He still had a hold on your wrist and something in your stomach twisted. Your mind was blank and everything just felt fuzzy.

“Thank you, really.” he mumbled as his head moved in even closer. His thumb drew small circles on the inside of your wrist.

“Yeah, no- no problem. Honestly, like it’s nothing, I’d happily do it any time.” you rambled, giving him a small grin and your stomach twinged from embarrassment this time. He grinned and let out a small chuckle. You felt his breath fan against your jaw. You bit down on your lip

“Oh, hey guys.” James announced from the doorway. Your head whipped round immediately as you took a step backwards. Wide eyed and horrified, you gulped. Remus seemed, perpetually, unbothered.

“Hi, Prongs.” he returned, pointing to the cut on his head. “All fixed up now, wasn’t too bad.” he added, tilting his head slightly.

“Yeah, all fixed up. Can see that. We’re going down to the pub to go have a celebratory drink tomorrow, we’ve got a day here to kill. Think you’ll be up for it?” James asked, looking at both of you. You nodded, sheepishly once again. You knew he knew. He knew you knew. It was an awful trap to be stuck in.

“Sounds good.” Remus said, nodding his head and grabbing his bag from beside the couch. “ ‘m gonna go get changed, see you later, yeah?” he added, looking at you. Only you. And then, he walked off. It felt like you’d been left dangling off of the edge of a cliff.

“Please can I tell Si-“

“Fuck off, James.”

“What about Lily??”

“Maybe.”

#remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #james & peter & remus & sirius #remus x you #marauders band au #marauders era #bassist!remus #james potter #best friend sirius #sirius black

81 notes · View notes

lovelyraven01 · 2 years

Note

hear me out ! can i request a jeremy from our life headcannon ? or a short one shot ! with a bubbly bimbo type reader ! its up to you if youd lke to include nsfw in it i trust your genuis writer brian <33

AAHAHAHAHA ask and you shall receive dear anon~ I accidentally made this so long lmao I got carried away

I made reader gender neutral but if you’d like me to specify something else pls let me know :)

Jeremy x Bimbo!Reader Oneshot

Warnings: 18+ NSFW CONTENT, MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI. Service top Jeremy. Fingering. Dirty talk. Slight dumbification.

Date Night

“Jer-bear cmooonnnnnn!!”

The green-haired boy huffed at your enthusiasm, clearly already over it. You had finally managed to convince your boyfriend to go to the aquarium that’s near your apartment you’d be damned if he was gonna try to ruin it for you now.

“We gotta see the sharks and the stingrays and the dolphins and the fishes and the, and the-“

“Sigh.” He says, cutting you off and brushing his braided hair out of his eyes. Rolling your eyes, you grabbed his hand and went running, dragging him behind you. He hissed at the sudden physical contact but you’re used to that by now. You knew if he actually hated it he wouldn’t hold your hand.

You practically squeal reaching the first exhibit, not even bothering to look at the information board containing the animals name.

“Oh my GOSH, look a stingray!” You exclaim, pointing at the glass excitedly while bouncing on the balls of your feet. Your face dropped when you turned around and saw your boyfriends face twisted with disgust and confusion.

“…Y/N that’s a horseshoe crab.”

“Oh.”

…

“WELL ANYWAYS LETS SEE THE DOLPHINS!”

And for the rest of the evening you drug Jeremy around every exhibit you could find, only messing up a couple of their names along the way.

Jeremy had surprised you and actually knew quite a bit about turtles! You even managed to convince him to touch the one that was in the petting area, even though he instantly bolted for the nearest hand sanitizer station. You had accidentally dropped his personal bottle down a storm drain while walking to the aquarium.

Upon stepping outside of the aquarium, the both of you were hit by a chilly gust of wind. Jeremy didn’t seem too affected by it, but it was wayyyy too cold for you! Not that your outfit of choice helped.

Desperate for some warmth, you cling onto Jeremy’s arm, pressing your body close to his. He hissed again at the contact but didn’t protest, awkwardly wrapping his arm around your waist.

As the two of you walked back to your shared apartment you couldn’t help but feel so warm and fuzzy next to your boyfriend. He smelled so good, like musk with a hint of vanilla from his previous baking ventures. The way he was holding your waist sent a chill down your spine, leaving so much room for imagination to take over.

You both arrived at your apartment, shivering ever so slightly at the bitter air. Your brain now muddled with desire for your boyfriend, you whined softly to get his attention. You couldn’t understand why you felt so weird, especially down there…

He looked up at you confused, then realizing what’s happening as he notices your flushed cheeks. He wordlessly looks into your eyes, waiting for you to say something. His gaze made that weird feeling worse, as if there was a knot in your stomach. You gripped his arm tighter and slowly push your body further into him, whining again.

((18+ nsfw content below this line))

“Jer…” You pout, nuzzling your face into his shoulder, “I feel funny..”

Stifling a chuckle, you felt his touch gently stroke the back of your head. You relaxed into his touch as he slowly let his hand wander down the back of your neck and downwards to the small of your back, rubbing gentle circles.

“Hmmm, I wonder why,” he teases, his hand wandering further down to your ass, squeezing the mounds of fat there. You hold back a moan as his actions makes your stomach flip.

“M-more…” You cry, looking into his golden orbs as he slips his hand down your pants and fondles you slowly. You grind instinctively into his touch making him chuckle again.

He stops for a second to drag you over to the couch, pushing you back onto the cushioned surface below you. He climbs on top of you, using his one hand to caress your face while the other returns to its original administrations, rubbing and teasing your sex slowly.

Your brain hazed from pleasure, leaving you unable to even form words. The only sounds you could produce were pathetic whines and moans as Jeremy picks up the pace, slipping two fingers into your hole. You cry out in pleasure as his fingers slowly stretch you out.

“S’feels so g-good,” you whimper, a knot beginning to form in your stomach. Desperate to chase your release, you lewdly grinded your hips into his fingers. You gasped, however, when he responded by wrapping his hand around your throat, squeezing just enough to restrict a bit of airflow.

“M’so much Jer, I c-can’t take it!” You cry, your eyes rolling back into your head as waves of pleasure washed over you. The way his fingers stretched you out was divine.

“My poor dumb pretty slut,” He coos, moving his fingers even faster as he slips a third one in. Your moans bounced off the walls as your release builds up quickly, leaving you babbling as your brain is nothing but mush.

“Haahh, so good m’gonna cummm,” you cry out, only encouraging Jeremy to go faster. Legs spreading so needily for him, he lets go of your throat to grab your cheeks, forcefully tilting your chin up to look into his eyes.

“Look into my eyes pretty baby,” He whispers, suddenly slowing down. “If you wanna cum, use your words.” You cry out in frustration, words are hard and you wanna cum so so bad.

“Mmmn, p-pleaseiwanna cummm s’bad,”

Satisfied enough with your answer, Jeremy continues finger fucking your hole till your body can’t take it any longer, moaning loudly as your orgasm rushes over you. Your vision goes white as your legs quake with pleasure. You heard Jeremy chuckle softly as he pulls away, immediately going to wash his hands.

You watch him with puppy dog eyes, already missing his closeness. He looked back at you and rolled his eyes, a soft but sincere smile on his face. He returns with a washcloth and a cup of water, handing it to you.

You drink quietly as he cleans you up, your body still shaking from your orgasm. He then nudges you gently to give him some room on the couch, plopping down next to you.

While he looked content, you now could see the flushed red on his face and the obvious tent in his pants. You giggled, sitting up to slide on his lap, grinding your lower parts together teasingly.

“My turn to take care of you now, Jer~”

#smut #our life beginnings & always #xoxo droplets #xoxo blood droplets #Jeremy king #Jeremy x gn reader #Jeremy x reader #Jeremy king x reader #bimbo!reader

101 notes · View notes

silens-oro · 1 year

Text

Spoils of War: 5. Consequences

Aemond Targaryen x F!Targaryen!Reader

Spoils of War Masterlist Masterlist

Synopsis: Every action must have a consequence, and there is no turning back from what is to take place.

Word Count: ~4,073

Warning: 18+. Targaryen uncle/niece incest (lite, nothing truly weird other than they are both Targaryens), death, blood, gore, suicide attempt (this term is used very loosely), heavy angst.

AN: 😅 We're in this together, pals. xoxo

Likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated.

The turbulence was like nothing you’ve felt before as you steered your dragon through the dangerous storm. It had only gotten worse since you landed in this gods-forsaken place. A single strike of lightning could fell the likes of Vhagar, so you did all you could to lead your brother to safety above the clouds.

Your hands tightened on the handles of Maestron’s saddle as a bellow sounded behind you, overpowering the clash of thunder. It shook you to your very core.

“Faster!” You screamed to the dragons, pleading with Arrax to fly with all of his might. Aemond was giving chase and at this point, you did not know what he would do should he actually catch Luke.

You were sure your earlier provocation did not help. Dread pooled in the pit of your stomach as you thought back on your own foolishness. How many times must you strike a dragon before it strikes back? -your words to Aemond resonated ironically. There were only so many cruel words you could throw at a person, no matter how much they had hurt you, before they too snapped.

The rain blinded you, its droplets hitting your face like shards of glass with the speed that Maestron reached. Arrax struggled to match with Luke on his back. The beast, still so young, did not have the strength he needed to fly as efficiently through the storm.

Whipping your head from side to side to try and locate Vhagar, you only saw black clouds and strikes of lightning. As you looked up, a shuddersome shadow moved overhead. You wanted to sob at the sheer vastness of Vhagar as she flew above, a mere puff of cloud separating her from you and Luke.

Luke looked up when he saw your neck craned and the fear that enveloped your entire being.

The foul beast swooped down in the flash of a second, her razor-clawed feet stopping short of grazing your brother’s head.

“Stop this!” You screamed to Aemond, who only laughed as Arrax dropped in surprise. He quickly righted himself, but the dragon was very much panicked. Vhagar flew up into the darkness, making your head turn on a swivel. Luke called your name in fear.

“Stay steady!” You called to him. Just as you turned forward, Vhagar broke from the clouds ahead of you, flying at break-neck speed straight for the two of you. She growled dangerously, mouth open. Luke split from you, Vhagar gliding through the space he once was.

“Aemond!” Your words fell on deaf ears. You tried not to cry, but the fear of what could possibly happen was just too much.

“To me!” You shouted to Luke. His head turned to find you, steering an erratic Arrax to your side. “You will head for that break in the clouds!” You ordered, pointing above you. He nodded. “You push Arrax as hard as he will go, regardless if I follow or not -you will continue on to Dragonstone!”

“I will not leave you!” He shouted.

“You will do as I say! Now!” Luke shot you a sad look before pulling Arrax to ascend near vertically towards the opening ahead.

Aemond’s cruel laughter was heard over the thunder, taunting you. The great beast had turned around, getting closer and closer to chomping her massive teeth through Maestron’s tail.

“Still see me as weak, my love?” Aemond shouted to you, standing from his saddle to welcome the rain. You turned and saw the maniacal grin that nearly split his face. “I ride the largest, fiercest living dragon in the world!”

“Seems you are overcompensating, my Prince!” You couldn’t help yourself. You would not be treated as prey by anyone, him least of all. This seemed to push Vhagar even closer, causing Maestron to bail to the side to avoid her jaws. Every muscle in your body screamed as you held on for your life. “Stop this, Aemond!” He responded with a slew of taunts in High Valyrian that you could not discern over the blood and wind rushing through your ears.

A weight lifted from your shoulders as the last of Arrax’s spiked tail left your view. He made it out of the storm and to the clear skies above.

You did what you could to keep Aemond’s attention on you so that Luke may flee. Bringing Maestron as low to the ground as you could, you maneuvered him around mountainsides and through canyons -anything that would make it difficult for Vhagar to follow.

It mattered not.

Aemond continued to laugh as if this was a friendly game of chase and not a life or death situation. Oh how wrong your heart had been to love this monster of a man. Had his feelings for you been genuine? These thoughts you could ponder on later, but the pain he had caused hurt all the same.

Maestron roared in warning as he pulled his wings tight to his body, shooting himself like an arrow through a narrow rock path that the beast giving chase could not follow through.

Looking behind you, you saw Aemond’s face drop as he pulled Vhagar up. She flew above you, trailing the slightest bit as you pushed Maestron through the narrow canyon.

“Had the boy just given me what was owed, this would not be happening!” He shouted down to you.

“This is tiresome, Aemond!”

“For you! I will not stop giving chase! Not until this war is over or I claim my prize!” You pushed Maestron into a band of thick clouds for cover once the canyon opened up. Maestron's pale coloring camouflaged with the clouds and Aemond immediately lost sight of you. High Valyrian curses shouted from his lips once more, mocking you as you fled. He beckoned you to come out with cruel words, but you would not take the bait.

“Arrax, dohaeragon!” Luke shouted from behind. Flames burst through the clouds overhead, followed by the pained roar of Vhagar.

“No!” You shouted in terror, tears springing to your eyes as you turned Maestron to go back.

You made it to your brother just as Vhagar began to descend away from the flames. Fire had burned the dragon-rot scales of her muzzle, creating the perfect deterrent for you both to escape. If Aemond had been singed in the aftermath, then so be it.

“Go!” Luke shouted to you, turning Arrax to a break in the clouds above. Once you saw the tip of Arrax’s tail clear the surface once more, you felt hope that you’d make it out of this.

Gasping for breath as Maestron followed through the surface of the clouds, it felt like the first breath of air after submerging under a tidal wave.

“We’ve made it!” Luke shouted, Arrax gliding at a higher altitude than Maestron.

“Why did you do that?!” You shouted up at him angrily, hair whipping in the dry wind. Frustration, panic, worry, and fear were all evident on your face. All of the emotions swelled together, making it hard to differentiate one from another.

Luke looked taken aback.

“When you did not surface, I could not leave you!” He reasoned. “I would not! Just as I know you would not leave me!” You pushed the wet tendrils of hair from your face that had gotten loose from your riding braids.

“It is your duty to follow what I say and you deliberately disobeyed me. Your safety and well-being is of the utmost importance, Luke! You are the heir to Driftmark! You have a legacy to uphold!” You said sharply, sighing when you saw tears shine in his dark eyes as you reprimanded him.

You breathed a moment to calm yourself. His brows furrowed in anger as response.

“As is yours!” He shouted. “If you do not make it to Lord Stark, we will have nothing! Without the Northern bannermen we will lose! You know this and yet you still put yourself in harm’s way!” Luke turned it on you, though the anger had fallen away immediately. The dragons glided through the air for a few moments, the only sound between you was of their wings flapping.

“What you did was brave,” You started, “and I thank you for it, but there is a razor thin line between bravery and stupidity, Luke. You need to understand that and differentiate between them when you are making such rash decisions.” You tried to council. Aemond was right about one thing -Luke could not expect you to stand by him forever. It was painful to think about. You had shielded him as much as you could his entire life in a way your mother couldn’t. You and Jace were closer in age, and while you were still fiercely protective of him, he could handle himself. Luke would always be the toddling child in your eyes, even though you knew it wasn’t reality. You were seeing that now.

“I won’t apologize!” Luke shouted back at you, shaking his head. His emotions bubbled up to the surface. “I am to protect you just as you protect me!” Tears fell from your eyes as you looked at him when his voice cracked. You bit your lip to the point of drawing blood to stop the sob that wanted to escape. “I cannot lose you!” Stopping any further words from leaving your mouth, you kept your lips closed tight and nodded.

You shared a look of understanding. Luke was growing up. You could see that he would be a good Lord of Driftmark by his convictions alone. He had a lot to learn, but he would surely grow into the role set before him. There was no doubt in your mind.

Luke took point in leading you both back to Dragonstone.

You would be a few days behind Jace, who had already started the week-long journey to Winterfell himself. It would be a day or so later than you were to be expected, but Jace would buy time. He was charming enough. The second you had an audience with your Queen Mother and father on what transpired at Storm’s End, you would take flight to what would be your new home should Lord Stark accept the betrothal.

You panted, head leaning down to rest between the handles in front of you as you absorbed the heat of the sun on your back. You brought a gloved hand down to rub at the only flesh you could safely reach of the dragon’s, whispering gratitude to the beast in your native tongue. You knew he was exhausted just as you were.

“Keep your eyes open. We are not safe until we see the Dragonmont, Luke.” You warned, looking back down to the storm below.

“You think he’d still give chase?” Luke questioned, looking down at you with furrowed brows.

“I don't-” Your words were cut short, the air pushed from your lungs. Maestron barrel rolled out of instinct to the right to miss the hooked claws of Vhagar’s feet as she burst through the clouds on Luke’s other side. The action nearly broke your neck with the sheer force of it. Your brother’s name tried to tumble from your lips and by the time it did, Luke was gone.

“No! Vhagar, no!” Aemond shouted atop his rogue mount. There was no stopping the Queen of Dragons scorned by what she surely viewed as a wyrmling.

Snapped within the massive jaws of Vhagar, Lucerys disappeared entirely, and Arrax’s body -minuscule in comparison to Vhagar’s head alone- severed like shreds of parchment. Blood and flesh rained down through the clouds and out of sight to the ground below.

Vhagar roared in victory, a deliberate warning to Maestron.

Your screams of terror came from a place deep within you that you did not know existed. They were guttural and agonizing as you caught sight of Aemond’s horrified face. He called your name, begging you to listen to him, just as you pushed Maestron to flee once more.

“Sōvegon!” Fly, you shouted. The dragon moved with more speed than he had with Arrax beside him. At twice the size that Arrax was, Maestron flew with twice the speed and twice the agility.

Even still, it would take nothing short of a miracle to escape the cruel fate rapidly catching up behind you. You did not think Aemond capable of such treacheries, and yet…your brother’s remains would never be found.

You could not catch your breath through your sobs of devastation. Your dragon screeched in shared terror as Vhagar only inched closer. He tried to out-maneuver Vhagar, shifting left and right, up and down, cutting back and forth to try and lose her.

Gone.

Luke was gone.

Dead.

“Land or Vhagar may kill Maestron! I cannot predict what she will do! Do not meet your end as your brother has, I beg!” Aemond shouted behind you.

You lowered Maestron as you had previously, but you had no intention of landing. The flat lands just past Bronzegate were not as inviting as they once were when you spent nights out here with Aemond. The grounds had been tainted with your brother's blood and there was nothing in this world that could cleanse it.

“You will take my life before I submit willingly, you wretch!” You shouted back, Maestron rolling once more to the side to switch directions to buy time. “Murderer!” You wailed as Aemond shook his head, still in shock.

Continuing to head Northeast, you were reaching the stretch of land leading to Massey’s Hook. Once you reached the end of the Peninsula, you would see Dragonstone as a in the distance, Blackwater Bay, and any loyal dragonriders who were on patrol. Aemond would not dare cross into your mother’s territory. Not after what he had done.

“You will not make it!” Aemond shouted in promise. “Land and we shall speak!”

“You hold no words I wish to hear!” You felt the determination that Maestron willed as he pushed on. Never had you flown so fast upon his back. He knew just how grave of a situation this was. So focused were you on the passing lands of Massey’s Hook, so close to the cut off of the bay, that there was nothing you could do to save Maestron’s wing from the clutches of Vhagar’s jaws.

It felt as if you had been slingshotted from your saddle. Maestron’s velocity had ceased, giving way to Vhagar’s. You screamed in pain, for yourself and your dragon.

Aemond shouted at his mount to hold. Your beast roared and screeched, kicking and biting at Vhagar to release him. Had you not strapped yourself to the saddle, you surely would’ve fallen to your doom below. Your face met the last sight your brother saw before he was taken, but she did not welcome you within her putrid mouth as she did him. Dragon blood sprayed across your face and soaked your hair as you tried to hold onto the slippery handles of the saddle. Vhagar held Maestron’s wing in her mouth, his body hanging vertically. The sounds he made ripped your heart from your chest.

“Aemond!” You begged, though you did not know what for. Release? Death? Any end, surely. Bone twisted and snapped sickly as Maestron continued to fight. You did not know how much longer you could hold on nor how long your straps would keep you secured. You prayed Maestron’s wing did not rip entirely, plunging you both to the land below. Perhaps that would be the best way to go, hand in hand with your valiant mount.

Vhagar’s landing near the cliffs of the hook was rough, Maestron’s legs and tail dragged along the terrain, tearing his pale skin from flesh.

“Release him!” You begged hysterically, your throat raw from screaming.

At her rider’s command, the Queen of Dragons released the mangled dragon to the ground. His wing was brutally twisted, broken, and torn. Blood, bone, and cartilage were visible, flapping in the breeze. Your stomach turned at the grizzly sight. Maestron let out pathetic whelps as he tried to scurry away from Vhagar’s reach. You felt his pain, his agony, his fear. The shared connection between you sizzled and popped in a frenzy.

Maestron would never fly again if he lived.

“I’ve warned you!” Aemond shouted, though you saw the raw fear on his face. “Remove yourself from your dragon or she will strike again. You do your beast no favors by resisting.” It felt like your chest was caving in with the devastation that overtook you. Like your brother, neither you nor your dear Maestron were making it out of this, you realized.

Betrayed and murdered by a man whose affections you once held dear to your heart.

“We will speak, and nothing more!” He promised.

You paid him no mind, trying to soothe Maestron as best as you could. Aemond watched from his saddle, a frown set upon his lips as he witnessed the suffering before him. This is not what he wished to happen when he gave chase. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he berated himself. Everything had gone so horribly wrong, so terribly fast.

Knowing it was dangerous to unstrap yourself from the dragon as he tried to hobble his way to safety from Vhagar, it was much more dangerous to stay upon him. Both dragons were volatile and could attack each other at any given moment with you in the crossfire.

Tensions were too high to remain where you were, so with a pull of your strap you tumbled free from Maestron as he flailed, narrowly smashing you with his mangled foot as you fell in a heap to the ground. Ducking under the chaotic swing of his partially skinned spiked tail, you scrambled to get out of his way.

Vhagar took her moment to assert herself upon Maestron. She growled menacingly, inching forward as a predator would cornered prey. Maestron hissed and roared, trying to ward the she-beast away. You stood away from the dragons, watching helplessly.

Maestron would not live through this, you concluded. The dragon that had hatched in your crib as an infant, that bonded with you so ferociously as a child, that served you loyally and you it -would die slowly, or he would die quickly. Either way, you would grant him the mercy of ending his suffering. Your lower lip trembled terribly as you looked upon him, eyes blurring from the wall of tears built over them. He was beautiful even his last moments. He was powerful and strong, but he was no match for the dragon before him.

No dragon alone was.

It would be quick for him and that gave you little comfort. With a fist clutching your heart you made your decision.

“Maestron!” You shouted, your voice riddled with fury, pain, and misery. Maestron and Aemond both looked at you. “Dracarys!” Maestron looked to Vhagar, and with his last burst of energy a fury of flames burst forth.

“Ossēnagon!” Kill, Aemond shouted instantaneously. Vhagar did not need her rider’s command.

You fell to your knees as Vhagar took three massive steps forward through the flames and clamped her jaws around Maestron’s neck. The flames died instantly with a sickening crack as she bit down.

Maestron’s head hit the ground like a boulder fallen from a cliff as his body flailed and twitched, blood raining down onto the field.

“He will only bring pain and misery.” Sobs broke free from your lips as your father’s prophecy rang true.

Vhagar let out a ground trembling roar that shook the dirt beneath you before flames shot from her mouth to roast the fallen dragon before her. She descended upon his carcass in a feast right before your very eyes.

All sound gave way to a high pitch in your ears as you watched the scene before you, unblinking. Your body bent forward to the ground and your forehead touched the dirt as you cried in pain, in agony now that you had a void where your connection to Maestron once was. You did not know a life before it, and you certainly did not think you would have much of one after it was gone.

You cried for Luke.

You cried for Maestron.

You cried for Arrax.

You cried for your mother, who will surely be devastated once the news reaches her.

You cried for yourself.

So much had been lost in such a small span of time.

This felt like the beginning of the end as you pulled yourself back up to a kneeling position upon your knees, gasping for breath as you looked to the skies above. How could your gods forsake you as they had? Your eyes were pulled to the sound of crashing waves and whipping winds to your right. The tides were calling you, beckoning you into their safe embrace.

This would be done.

Aemond, who had since dismounted, called your name as he cautiously approached you with one arm reaching out ahead of him as if he were about to tangle with a wild animal. You looked over to him, still a good distance away, with such a look that it stopped him in his tracks. He knew what a rabbit looked like just as it was about to flee, so he started running towards you before you made your move. Instantly, you jumped to your feet clumsily and started running towards the cliff’s edge in the distance.

“Stop!” Aemond yelled your name, his long legs easily narrowing the distance between you. You did not turn back to look at him, only forward to your salvation. As the sparse trees around you cleared, the endless horizon of the sea came into view. The muscles of your legs cramped and burned, your lungs clenched painfully as you ran faster than you ever had in your life.

“Stop!” His breaths were quick, but his training had built a stamina that you simply did not have. You relied on your sheer will to continue forward, one foot in front of the other as you ran. Aemond called your name once more before you were tackled to the ground from behind. The flesh of your palms and face tore as they skidded across the ground, an eerie likeness to what Vhagar had done to Maestron in their own landing.

Your body rolled with Aemond’s from the sheer force you both exerted. Dust created a cloud that followed the breeze and dissipated into the air. You both ended in a tangle of limbs, but Aemond was quick to straddle your hips to keep you to the ground. His gloved hands held you down by your shoulders, using his weight as leverage. Pebbles and stones beneath you dug into your back painfully and the wounds in your face and hands stung. You could feel the warmth of blood trickle down your chin to your neck.

The both of you were panting, eyes wild as you stared at each other. You tried to push Aemond off of you, but he was quick to hold your hands above your head in the struggle. Aemond’s face lowered closer to yours, his long hair curtaining around you with the loss of the leather tie that usually fastened it.

“You’d jump?” The natural softness of his voice broke you. You screamed and thrashed, kicking your legs to get him off of you. His free hand pinned you by your neck, his long fingers wrapping around it easily. “Answer me!” He shouted.

“Kill me now! If you will not allow me to do it myself, then you will do it! You have my life, so take it!” You demanded. Aemond’s frown only seemed to deepen. “You’ve taken everything else!” Your eyes left his as you tilted your head back as far as it would go to look up at the sky. Such a vast difference to Storm’s End, you thought. A cascade of pinks and oranges were painted above you as the sun set, and not a single cloud could be seen. “If ever you loved me, Aemond, you would grant me this small mercy.” Your voice was hoarse and small as the pressure of Aemond’s hand left your throat. You closed your eyes, allowing the beauties of the sky to be your last sight in this life.

Your thoughts were sent to darkness, the hilt of a blade knocked against your skull.

Finally, you had peace.

“Your Grace, I apologize for the intrusion, but I have urgent news from Stonedance.” Maester Gerardys entered the Solar without a single knock. The room was currently occupied by Daemon and the Queen, who had just finished their dinner. Both stood at the maester's entrance. Gerardys looked panicked and quickly handed Rhaenyra the scroll held tightly in his shaking hands.

“Massey’s Hook?” Rhaenyra looked at Daemon in confusion before pulling the scroll open. Her eyes scanned the words and she nearly collapsed against the table before her. She read it over and over to make sure she was truly seeing the words written before her. The scroll fell to the table, rolling back and forth as an uncontrollable sob left her mouth. Daemon was quick to grab the rolled parchment, nearly tearing it in half with how roughly he pulled the ends apart. His jaw clenched and his eyes turned to slits

“Shall I gather the council?” Gerardys suggested. Daemon gave him a single nod before Gerardys excused himself. The maester wasn’t out of the room but for seconds before Rhaenyra’s legs collapsed under her. Daemon was quick to catch her, holding her as they both fell to the ground. She wailed horrifically into his chest, clenching her hands around him. Daemon could only feel anger, brutal and bloody anger.

His daughter and step-son had perished, and their dragons with them. The Kingdom would burn for this.

Show of hands, who's cryin'? ✋

Taglist: @thelittleswanao3@bellameshipper@praline357@crazymusicgirl104@visenyaverse@nina2697@malfoytargaryen@ana8swift

#aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd imagine #aemond x you #x reader #hotd x you #angst #spoils of war fic

172 notes · View notes