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vendettaparker · 3 months
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common tongue of you lovin' me
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🍯 honey flavour: touchstarved loverboy smut
🐝 the bees: Eddie x reader
wc: 2.5k 
content warnings: nervous Eddie, touchstarved R, smut, dry humping (is it actually dry if they’re both wet…?), cumming in pants, one (1) use of the word “daddy”, light use of the miscommunication trope
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foreword: based on THIS anon everyone say THANKS anon. R and Eddie are in their early 20’s, R is on a gap year from college (so me), they’re in a new relationship with each other, I’m writing this while blasted on edibles idk what else to say 0_o
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By nature, Eddie Munson is not a shy person.
Even though his dark reputation in Hawkins hasn’t been completely erased, he still manages to make friends wherever he goes through sheer force of personality. It’s like a magic trick, one that you never get tired of- he’ll pause in the middle of grocery stores to make faces at a baby in a stroller, getting belly laughs out of a stranger’s kid in less than ten seconds while still holding your hand down the aisle. One second he’s right behind you in the record store, looking over your shoulder as you browsed, and the next he’ll be on one knee charming a elementary school-aged kid into getting the latest Dio album.
You’ve seen him flirt his way out of speeding tickets with Hopper, for christ’s sake. 
Eddie isn’t shy by any stretch of the imagination, so after three months of nothing but chaste kisses and quiet hand-holding, you’re left to assume he actually wants to take things slow with you.
He’s been nothing but a gentleman, in these early days of dating- the most action you’ve gotten from him was unintentional. On your third date, a dollop of his ice cream landed on your lap when he used the cone to gesture, which led him to manically grabbing napkins out of his dashboard to wipe at your skirt while you laughed it off. The second he’d brushed against your bare thigh he snapped his hands back like he’d touched a live wire, hastily heaping on apologies, leaving you to allay his nerves while wiping at the stain yourself.  
Which, whatever. It’s fine. It’s not like you’re complaining about him being respectful, per se, it’s just that it’s getting harder and harder (hah) to pretend like you don’t wanna fuck him. The feeling between your thighs only seems to increase in intensity when he gives you one of those precious little hand kisses at the end of a date, or a closed-mouth peck before he drives off into the night. 
Unfortunately for you and your wet dreams, Eddie Munson has the most edible body you’ve ever seen. Biceps bulging through those form-fitting tees he likes to wear, rounded nose and strong jaw outlined by that cloud of soft black hair, those lithe hips…
Hips that you’re openly staring at from across the room as you sit quietly on Eddie’s couch. He’s reaching up to grab a mug from the cabinet, his Metallica tee pulling up out of his dark denim at the motion, flashing a stripe of his pale lower back.  
You feel like a Victorian maid seeing ankle for the first time. You subtly press your thighs together under your short tartan skirt as Eddie moves around the kitchen, talking animatedly about the start of his upcoming campaign.
“I haven’t decided yet if I’m gonna go easy on the little shits or not,” he says, metal spoon clinking against ceramic as he mixes hot chocolate powder. “It’s Max’s first session as an official player, and I don’t wanna scare her off but I do have a reputation to uphold.”
“Yeah,” you agree, giving him a knowing smile as he crosses the room to pass you your mug- “You’re a DM most fearsome. Can’t let them off the hook too easily.”
Eddie blooms under your praise, wiggling his eyebrows with familiar cockiness as he settles on the cushion beside you. “Gotta keep Hawkins' finest in line. It’s a tough gig but I did swear an oath, after all.”
You smile around a sip of hot cocoa, then reach over to set your mug on the coffee table. Eddie has been sat in his usual manner (knees far enough apart to be taking up his whole seat, arm draped casually on the back of the couch) but the second your knee knocks against his, he adjusts himself stiffly, drawing his arm back with a nervous throat-clearing and a murmured “sorry”.
Normally you’d let it go, not wanting to push the issue past the point of his comfortability. But it’s been Three. Months. Of this. And you wanna test the waters, just a little.
“Sorry for what?” You ask, rotating to face him, your shoulders almost-but-not-quite touching.
He’d doing an uncanny impression of a deer caught in headlights, blinking at you with those doey brown eyes, stuttering his way through a weak explanation- “Uh… uh. Sorry for being- f-for touching you?”
There’s a lift at the end of his sentence, one that you mirror with a tilt of your own brow, a playful challenge. “You don’t have to apologize for touching me, Eddie. I’m your girlfriend.”
He chuckles, a nervous edge bleeding around the sound. The curls around his face dance with the head shake he gives. “No, of course, yeah, I know that.”
“Do you?” You scoot closer, a kick of assertiveness giving you the courage to press your leg against his. 
“Uh huh.” He’s gazing openly now at the bare skin of your thigh, like he’s waiting to see if it'll burn a hole into his denim. 
When you gently lift his hand and place it on the skin that he’s looking at, you hear him gulp, audibly. 
So he does want to touch you. Interesting.  
You know for a fact Eddie’s not a virgin. Back in high school, you’d both dated around your respective circles, gossip surrounding escapades in the Munson Van circulating back to you through mutual friends. When he’d asked you out a few months previous, you’d happily accepted, wanting to take full advantage of your interim gap year from college. For the first few weeks, you’d chalked his near-celibate behavior up to nerves.
But now, you’ve got him squirming with just a thigh touch. So maybe… he’s waiting for you to make the first move?
Fuck testing the waters- you’re gonna dive in head-first. 
You swing your leg over his lap, kneeling on the outside of his hips. His hands automatically go to your waist, and he lets out a little “Oh” as you rest your arms around his shoulders.
“You gonna kiss your girlfriend?” you whisper, forehead crushing into his bangs as you wrap a hand around the back of his neck.
Eddie looks up at you like he’s seeing a full moon for the first time, eyes sparkling with want. “Yeah,” he rasps, angling his face up to kiss you.
It’s soft, at first, like it always has been. His plush lips softly move against yours, breaking for air once, twice; when he kisses you with that same softness for a third time you press your tongue to the seam between his lips.
He lets you in with a little noise, low in the back of his throat as you lick into his mouth. His hands twitch on your hips as your tongues twine, slight movements in his own hips creating a ripple effect.
When the hard seam of his jeans bumps against the warmth of your cunt, you both gasp, your hand at the back of his neck tightening. 
“We should probably, um-” he’s panting against your mouth, grip flexing between hard and soft- “I mean, if you wanna stop…”
“I don’t wanna stop. Do you wanna stop?” you ask, equally out of breath.
“Fuck no,” he rasps again, in that smoke-salt voice, and this time when he kisses you it’s with one hand at the back of your head and the other pulling your hips to meet his.
The noises from the wet slide of your mouths are turning you on more than you care to admit, and you’re sure he can feel the damp patch that’s soaking through your panties as the crotch of his jeans make contact again. Which normally would make you feel really self-conscious, if it weren’t for the fact that Eddie’s hard as a rock underneath you, the bulge in his pants thickening with each roll of your hips.
You drop your kisses down, exploring where you haven’t been able to before: against his cheek, his jaw, stopping just behind his ear. Unable to help yourself, you graze your teeth against the velvet skin there, and he jolts beneath you with a small yelp.
“Sorry,” you whisper, still a touch mirthful but soothing your tongue over the mark.
Eddie brushes his thumb across the back of your neck as you continue your path down the column of his throat. “Now who’s sayin’ sorry for no reason. Baby, I’m begging you to do that again.”
So you do, this time at the junction where his neck and shoulder meet, grinning against his skin when he groans and bucks his hips up. 
Around your hickey-making, he’s choking out words that you just manage to string together. “I wanna… make you feel- christ, sweetheart- good too, wanna make it good for you-”
When you sit up to see his face, he looks absolutely wrecked- rosy flush in his cheeks, lips swollen and kiss-bitten, pupils blown so big his eyes are nearly black with lust.
“You are making me feel good,” you assure him, pulling the hand he’s got on your neck down to where the end of your skirt sits, pausing before your next move. “You want me to prove it?”
He nods, and you guide him into the warmth of your thighs, letting his fingers graze the stickiness that’s been steadily soaking through the fabric.
Eddie inhales sharply, moans out, “Fuck, honey”, and when his thumb finds your clit you sink down into his touch, stomach tightening with the shock of arousal coursing through you.
He’s watching your face intently as he slowly circles your clit, gauging your reactions, pressing in a bit harder and faster when the pace change makes you cry out.
Feeling doubly exposed with his eye contact and hand against your core, you try making a joke to diffuse some of the tension as the pad of his finger moves against you in steady rhythm. “Still thinkin’ about stopping?”
“A train could crash through that wall and it wouldn’t stop me for a second,” Eddie says, resolute and getting a little braver, kissing his own path across your throat, nibbling at a spot that makes your clit pulse beneath his fingertip and your cunt clench around nothing. 
Goddamn, he’s a quick learner. In less than two minutes he’s got you so close to the edge, squirming around his touch, that you have to grab his wrist and still his fingers between your thighs.
“What’s wrong?” he asks. You can feel his breath punching up down up, your breasts pushed up against his chest from the way your body was trying to coil in on itself.
“Nothing,” you assure him, and now it’s your turn to falter around your words. “I just- maybe can I… I wanna get o-off at the same time. If you want. And I’m really, really close.”
Eddie’s head falls back against the couch with a thunk, eyes scrunching shut as if in concentration, a strung-out whine leaving his throat. “Hang on. Give me a second.”
He’s still got his hand on your clothed pussy, and you can’t help but giggle once he blinks back to the present, dazed- “Christ. You can’t say shit like that, baby, I almost came in my jeans.”
You give him a condescending little pout, accented with another twist of your hips. “Well maybe that’s what I want.”
“Give you anything,” Eddie replies, unabashedly babbling now as you adjust yourself in his lap. “Anything you want, sweetheart. It’s yours. All yours.”
He helps you maneuver into a new angle: now, your drenched core can rub freely against his thigh, while your knee in the socket of his hip means he can rut his cock along the flat of your leg.
When you move experimentally in shallow circles on his thigh, the newly-gained friction lights up your throbbing clit. Soon, all pretenses melt away as you both find your rhythm again, little grunts and pants filling the air.
“Feel good, angel? That’s it,” Eddie encourages, slipping his hand under your skirt to grope at the meat of your ass, helping your movements along as he chases his own pleasure with a rocking grind against your leg. “Take what you need. Lemme get you there. Please, please…”
His whines spur you on, one of your hands shooting out to clutch at the back of the couch beside his head while the other anchors itself on his opposing bicep. “Fuck, Eddie, keep talking like that, ‘m so close…”
“Talk to you all day,” he heaves out, “you make me so fucking hard, princess. You feel how hard I am for you? God, you’re so wet, that’s so fucking hot…”
You should have expected that bravado and charm you’ve seen these last few years to naturally be carried over into his sex life, but god, not in your wettest of dreams could you have imagined the mouth on him. 
The combination of his dirty talk and thigh between your legs is bringing you right up to that edge again, toes curling in anticipation, cunt starting to flutter erratically with every thrust.
“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come…” your head rolls back on its hinge, eyes flickering shut as Eddie fumbles to catch at your clit again, movements becoming sloppy. 
“C’mon, pretty baby, let go.” He’s sucking another mark into your neck between his praises, teeth catching- “Let me see you come, honey, be a good girl for daddy…”
“Jesus FUCKING christ” is all you manage to grit out before you’re tipping over the edge into orgasm, all your muscles bearing down into the bright point of pleasure, high sob winding its way from your throat. 
Eddie keeps kneading at your spasming clit as you ride it out on his thigh, even as he lets out a series of short, keening whimpers, even as his cock jerks against your leg into his own release. 
You sag into his waiting arms, tittering lightly against his neck as you both work on catching your collective breaths. 
“Holy shit, and I was really starting to think you actually didn’t want to fuck me.” You laugh in relief.
His hand pauses mid-stroke up the slope of your back, sounding genuinely aghast when he asks “Why the fuck would you think that?”
You straighten in his arms with an incredulous stare. “Uh, maybe because you acted like a monk that I was corrupting every time I even breathed near you?”
Eddie covers his eyes with his hands, heels to sockets, groaning- “Fuck, honey, I was tryn’a be respectful. You’re telling me we could’ve been doing this sooner?”
You reach to soothe your palms over the length of his forearms, equally fond and serious when you say “I’m telling you I absolutely would have slept with you on the first date.”
He makes a strangled, pained noise before you continue- “You described to me in detail the entire mating cycle of a bat, and then walked directly into a trash can by accident. How did you expect me to wait on jumping your bones?”
He lets you take his hands, enveloping them in your own and bringing them to your chest, pressing your lips affectionately to each ring.
He whispers, “Can I ask you something?” 
When you look up at him again, he says, with sincerity, “Can I see your tits next time?”
You hide your laughter into the crook of his neck. 
________
guys i cannot stress how high I am is this even any good plz perceive me 
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vendettaparker · 3 months
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Love and Lust
pairing: mike schmidt x afab!reader
summary:
warnings: unprotected sex, no foreplay, oral (m receiving), creampie??, female pronouns, whiny mike, whiny reader, switch!mike??, teasing, overstim, hair pulling, nipple pinching, not proofread, porn with no plot
word count: 1.3k words
author’s note: this isn't as needy n whiny as I originally hoped so I hope you guys can forgive me!!! please send requests for what you'd like to see next! very dedicated to @mfdxz because queen has been WAITING for this one
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“Please.” He whined in your ear, licking and sucking at any of the skin on your neck that he could reach. “I need you, now.”
“I’m trying, I can’t get your stupid belt unbuckled.” You whined back, sitting up from your position on top of him to try and see the belt buckle better.
“Baby, I am going to cum in my pants if you don’t hurry up.” He relaxed his head against the pillows that lined the headboard, chest rising rapidly as he tried to regulate his breathing. 
On normal days when Abby was home you tried to avoid doing anything sexual, but the second Mike had gotten home the atmosphere shifted. He came up behind you in the kitchen, pressing your ass against the hard-on raging in his jeans, trying to slide his hand under the waistband of your sweats. His fingers made it as far as touching your clit before Abby stumbled in asking for more dinner, a small groan only loud enough for the two of you came out.
The clink of the buckle hitting the floor dissipated any frustration you had, your fingers immediately unzipped his jeans and threw them off somewhere on the floor. Today was one of the few days he’d chosen to go commando, both of you were now appreciating this.
You went back to straddling his waist, grinding down against his cock, your wetness causing your underwear to conform to your folds as you slid his cock between them. His breath hitched at the feeling, he turned his head to the side in an attempt to cover his mouth. 
“Fuck, baby..” Mike groaned, thrusting his hips upwards in an attempt to create more friction.
“Feel good, Mikey?” You teased, moving down his body to sit in between his legs.
“Baby..” Is all he could muster in response, anything else was lost the second you put the tip of his cock in your mouth.
The feeling of him in your mouth, hard and leaking from the need to fuck you, caused a moan to vibrate around him. He tried to close his legs at the feeling, you hadn’t even done anything and yet it was all too much already. Your hands pushed them back open, taking his cock as far as it could go, your nose was pressing against his pubic bone. You hollowed your cheeks as you pulled off of him, using your tongue to swirl around it as you went.
You climbed back up his body, straddling his waist yet again, and placing your lips against his. The kiss was needy and messy, strings of saliva connecting your chins together. His fingers found your hair, entangling themselves at the base and pulling your head back. He needed you, and he was tired of letting you have that control.
“I said, I needed you, now.” He grunted, nipping at your exposed collarbone.
Mike lifted your shirt and threw it to the growing pile of clothes on the floor, latching onto one of your nipples and rolling the other in between his fingers. You threw your head back at the sensation, trying to hold yourself up against him in an attempt to keep control. Any ounce of control that you had left disappeared when your hair was yanked backwards, causing a loud whimper to leave your mouth and Mike to slap a hand over it. 
The sound of Abby shuffling around in her room stopped the two of you in your tracks, the soft padding of her footsteps passed by the bedroom door. You exchanged a look, it was past her bedtime, and he was off to go check on her. Nights when Abby left her room after her initial bedtime meant she’d be more likely to leave more times throughout the night, sometimes she just wasn’t tired and sometimes she just couldn’t sleep, it’s how she worked.
You heard the two of them exchanging muffled words quickly followed by their footsteps back into her room. To save time, in the chance Abby did leave her room again, you threw your underwear into the pile on the floor.
“She needed water.” He mumbled, closing the door and locking it behind him, throwing off the sweats he’d put on in a hurry. 
The bed dipped as he climbed up you, kissing his way up your body. His fingers slid between your folds, collecting your wetness and bringing the fingers to your mouth. He tapped your lips, an indicator that he wanted you to open your mouth, and slid his fingers in when you opened them.
“How do you taste, sweet girl? Let me taste.” Mike removed his fingers from your mouth and leaned closer to kiss you, swirling his tongue around yours. “Fuuuck.”
Two fingers swirled at your entrance, pushing in slightly as his other hand covered your mouth just in case. He curled his fingers, brushing against the soft, spongy spot inside of you. Your body jerked against him, whining against his hand. 
“Shhh, I’ll take care of you, I promise.” He whispered in your ear, a low groan following behind it as he removed his fingers and replaced them with his cock.
The stretch was wonderful, stinging slightly at the lack of prep but an oh so delicious sting. A small whine escaped his throat, hips stuttering slightly at the feeling of your warm cunt stretching around him. His eyes were squeezed shut, trying to keep himself quiet and to stop himself from cumming so soon. There was just something about having to be quiet and the dire need to fuck you into the mattress was sending him into a spiral, his eyes were just as glazed over as yours were.
His hips thrusted in and out, fingers fumbling around your chest as he searched for your nipples. You brought your hands to your mouth, despite most of your moans and whines getting caught in your throat every time his hips pushed back in, the chance of being caught bringing an overwhelming sense of excitement.
“Baby, fuuck…baby.” Mike moaned, splaying one hand on your stomach and bringing the other to his mouth. 
He was holding on by a thread, orgasm threatening to spill all over your insides with every thrust, he’d been waiting for this all day and now that it was finally here he couldn’t even hold on. 
“I need to cum..” He whined, leaning over so your knees were against your chest and his mouth was by your ear.
“Inside..” You managed to choke out, keeping one hand on your mouth and digging the other into the skin of his bicep, small moon shaped indents appearing.
After you finished your one word sentence he painted your insides with a low groan, sweaty forehead laying itself in the crook of your neck as he continued to thrust in and out. The over-stimulation was too much but he was determined to get you off, he slithered a hand between your bodies. He drew figure eights over your clit as he continued his thrusting, sucking and licking at the skin of your neck.
“Mikey…Mikey..” Your words were breathy and almost inaudible, all you could think, hear, smell, taste was just Mike.
He was overwhelming your senses in the best way and all you wanted was to live in this blissful state forever, full of him. One more thrust had your mind reeling, body shaking, sharp white pleasure searing through your veins as your orgasm ripped through you. He slapped another hand over your mouth, continuing his thrusts to help work you through your orgasm.
“Mike? What are you doing to her?” Abby asked innocently, standing at the open door that didn’t latch when he thought he locked it.
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vendettaparker · 3 months
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first time for everything
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Drug dealer! Mike Schmidt x fem!reader      wc: 4.2k
Summary: You’re a good girl. You’ve never been arrested, you don't drink alcohol, and you certainly don't smoke weed. So why were you standing on Mike Schmidt’s doorstep about to buy the very thing you swore you wouldn’t?
Warnings: 18+ content, sorta implied age gap (reader is in college, mike is like the age he was in the movie so like 28-30ish?), cannabis use, shotgunning, dirty messy sex, praise, degradation, spit, grinding, fingering (f rec), handjob, unprotected sex
Authors note: guys i am SO HAPPY with how this fic turned out, and I really hope u guys like it too!! this fic ended up being my longest so far LOL, i got carried away but i LOVED writing the dialogue in this one
You’re a good girl.
You’ve never been arrested, you don't drink alcohol, and you certainly don't smoke weed.
So why were you standing on Mike Schmidt’s doorstep about to buy the very thing you swore you wouldn’t?
—-------------------
“Y/n, it’s seriously no big deal, okay? My dealer’s name is Mike, he’s cool! Just hand him the money and he’ll give you the weed. Simple.” Your friend Sara says as she throws on her work uniform. You furrow your eyebrows at her words, crossing your arms over your chest.
“Sara, I’m not fucking buying weed for you.” You say incredulously, leaning against a wall in your dorm room. Once Sara’s shirt is pulled over her head, she gives you an insulted look.
“It’s not just for me, it's for us! You need to live a little more, Y/n. You haven’t even been to a party on campus yet and it's our third year.” Sara says, emphasising her words with her hands. She brushes her hair, throwing it up into a quick ponytail to make a flat foundation for her ‘Burger King’ cap to lay on top of. 
“Well, that’s because I’m studying. I have a job too!” You say with a roll of your eyes. Of course it’s easy for Sara to judge, she’s always been very extroverted. Sara’s the type of girl who’s well loved by everyone on campus, and goes to a party almost every weekend. You can’t blame her. If you were as outgoing and charismatic as she is, you’d follow in her footsteps. However, you’re not, and making friends and being invited to parties hasn’t been an easy feat for you. 
You and Sara have been roommates since your first year, and although you haven’t always seen eye to eye, you love her. She’s truly one of your only friends on campus, and even though you know it's pathetic, you think you’d be completely friendless if it weren’t for her. She’s the reason you’ve met most of your friends over your time at college, and although you get annoyed at her, you’re thankful for the times she's pushed you out of your shell enough to have some sort of social life. That being said, buying weed for her is where you draw the line. At least, you think it is.
“I study and work too, but I'm not a total hermit.” Sara exclaims. You scoff and cross the room to sit on your bed. You give Sara a defeated look and she lets out a soft laugh, joining you on the bed. 
“Okay, I'll take that back. I don’t think you’re a hermit.” Sara says with a soft smile. She places a caring hand on your back.
“I just think you need to get out a little more, you know? Make some memories, fuck a hot guy, get shit-faced, whatever!” She continues with a laugh. You laugh along with her, and you know she's right. You are a hermit, and it wouldn’t kill you to break out of your shell a little. Even if that means buying weed for your very persistent friend. 
“So, why do you need me to buy you weed?” You inquire.
“Because, I’m going to work. Duh.” Sara says, motioning to her ‘Burger King’ uniform. “And I promised my dealer I’d pick my stuff up today. Apparently afternoons are better for him now because he got some weird job working nights.” She continues and you bite the inside of your cheek. Sara notices your apprehension and she grabs your hand. 
“Listen, don’t think of it as buying weed. Just…think of it as doing a favour for your friend.” She says softly, ducking her head to meet your gaze that is currently fixed on the floor. It’s just weed, you think. Not cocaine, or something like that. 
“And your um, dealer? He’s nice?” You ask, wiping your palms on your jean clad thighs. 
“Yeah, I told you. He’s cool. Dealing is, like, a side thing for him. To make enough money to support his little sister.” Sara says, getting off of the bed to collect her things. She swings her backpack over her shoulder and starts towards the exit of your dorm.
You’re not totally convinced, and you’re also not sure how buying weed for Sara will make you less of a “hermit,” but with a long, dramatic, sigh you nod your head. 
“What’s his address?”
—-----------------------------------
The gust of the cold December wind that hits your face when you exit the city bus makes you recoil into your hood, and with an annoyed huff you set the hair that stuck to your lipgloss from the breeze back into place. 
Mike Schmidt’s place wasn’t far, only a 10 minute bus ride away. However, that was plenty enough time for you to almost completely think yourself out of going. You walk to the address that Sara texted you, the sound of snow crunching under your feet somewhat interrupting your racing thoughts. “Just hand him the money, and he’ll give you the weed.” Sara’s voice replays in your head, and the butterflies in your stomach aren’t sure if her voice is comforting or not.
Mike Schmidt’s house wasn’t one to gawk at, at least from the outside. You start the trek from the end of the driveway to his front door and you wonder how many times Sara has done this before. 
You reach the front door and your cold, dry knuckles rap on it. The cold air makes knocking on the wood hurt more than usual, and you rub your knuckles softly. You hear heavy footsteps making their way from the back of the house to the door, and you let out a big breath. The door opens and you scan the man in front of you. He’s…not what you had expected him to look like. In your naive mind, you had pictured a big, burly man, covered head to toe in tattoos. But, this man looked like he had just woken up, his eyes still adjusting to the light outside. His curly brown hair was slightly dishevelled and he laced a hand through it, attempting to make it look more presentable.
“Can I help you?” His voice comes out slightly gruff, and he clears it softly. 
“Are you the…the drug guy?” You ask in a low whisper, like the title ‘drug guy’ is akin to the name ‘Voldemort’ in ‘Harry Potter.’
“Depends on who you’re asking.” Mike says, leaning against his front door. He gives you a once over with a little smirk and you cross your arms over your chest. 
“I’m asking you.” You say, and it comes out a little harsh, your teeth chattering from the cold. 
“Do you want me to be?” Mike says, and you narrow your eyes at him. His smirk widens and you bite the inside of your cheek, he’s enjoying this. Sara said this would be easy.
“I’m here for Sara.” You say, and Mike nods his head, a soft hum tumbling out of his closed lips.
“Oh, so you’re her druggie friend?” Mike says with a little mischievous smile, although his teasing is lost on you and your jaw drops open in shock.
“What? I, wha-, no!” You stammer and Mike lets out a laugh that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle.
“I’m joking. Come in, you’re freezing.” He says, noting the way you’re shivering on his front door step. He pushes himself off the door frame and motions for you to follow him inside. You hesitantly follow him inside, but your frosty fingers thank you for the new found warmth of his house. 
“Do you want something to drink?” Mike asks, leading you towards the kitchen, you following behind him. You shake your head no, even though he can’t see you.
“I won’t be staying long.” You say bluntly, and even though you can’t see Mike’s face, you swear you can picture the little smile that forms on it with your words. You sit down at the dining table, watching as Mike reaches into the fridge, grabbing a can of soda. The dining table is covered with unopened envelopes and you try your best not to snoop while Mike is in the kitchen. You look up as Mike exits the kitchen with an extra soda in hand, placing it in front of you. 
“Just in case you change your mind.” He says and a small “thank you” leaves your lips. 
“I’ll be right back, okay?” Mike continues, and you slowly nod your head, watching as he makes his way down the hallway and towards the back of the house. You half pay attention to the turned on television in the living room from your spot at the dining table, partly watching some sitcom that’s been left on while you wait for Mike to return. The house smells like weed and spicy cologne and your leg bounces up and down rapidly as you listen to the sounds of Mike’s footsteps coming back.
“Here.” He says simply, tossing the baggy of weed onto the dining table in front of you. You look down at it, and you crinkle your eyebrows in confusion.
“This is it?” You ask, your eyebrows raised as you hold the baggy between your pointer and middle finger. Mike looks at you with his arms crossed over his chest and that stupid smirk that seems to be permanently painted on his face. 
“This is an eighth.” He answers, like you’re supposed to know what that means.
“It doesn’t look like much.” You mumble, reaching into your pocket to fish out the $40 that Sara gave you. 
“Well, you can always come back if you’d like more.” Mike says in a sickly sweet tone, and now you know he’s teasing you. You roll your eyes and you get up from your chair, holding the dollar bills in your hand.
“Is $40 enough?” You question, and Mike nods his head. He holds his hand out and you place the money in his palm. You turn to leave and you hear Mike’s voice behind you.
“Enjoy.” He says, and you can’t help yourself from turning back around.
“And just for the record, I’ve never smoked weed. So-, so don’t think this is for me. Cause’ it isn’t.” You say, and you wonder why you feel the need to explain yourself to this man that you met only fifteen minutes ago. Your eyes squint at the man as he lets out a laugh at your words.
“Trust me, I know.” He says, and you watch as he takes a sip of his soda, never breaking eye contact with you.
“How? I’m literally buying weed from you.” You say, your tone somewhat annoyed. Does everyone think you’re a buzzkill? A hermit? Is it written permanently on your forehead in big, bold, marker that you’re a ‘drag’ for everyone to see?
“I can just tell. You don’t seem like the type.” Mike says with a sort of shrug. You stand there with what can only be described as a defeated look on your face as Mike makes his way over to the living room. He sits on the couch, changing the channel to some sports game. It’s silent for a moment, save for the sound coming from the tv, and you stand in the front corridor motionless as you have a mental battle over what you decide to say next. 
“...Can you show me?” 
You watch as Mike turns his head, looking back at you from the couch. 
“You want to get high?” He asks, and he sounds genuinely surprised. You walk over to the couch, moving to stand in front of Mike. He looks up at you with a quizzical look on his face, his eyes dancing around from your lips, to your eyes and nose. You nod your head and you watch as he swallows slowly, drumming his fingers on his knee. 
“I want to try.” You say, and you’re not sure where this new found confidence has come from, but you’re not going to back down now. Maybe when you get back to your dorm and smoke with Sara, you can surprise her by showing her it isn’t your first time getting high. 
“Alright.” Mike says, putting both of his hands on his knees and pushing himself off of the couch. You watch him walk over to a console table in the living room, pulling out a little baggy of pre-rolled joints. He grabs a joint and a lighter and walks back over to the couch, patting the spot beside him, motioning for you to sit. 
“Have you ever smoked at all before? Like, a cigarette or something?” Mike asks softly and you shake your head. You were never really interested in smoking or getting high, even when your friends had started to do those things. You’re not really sure where that interest is coming from now, although you feel a strange need to change Mike’s impression of you. To be the opposite of what he expects. To impress him.
“Okay so, the first few hits might burn a little. And you’re probably going to cough so it’s a good thing I got you that soda.” He says, walking over to the dining table to grab the soda that you left unopened, and handing it to you as he sits back down on the couch. You watch as Mike fiddles with the joint between his fingers and you look up at him.
“Is there any way to make it burn less?” You ask genuinely, and Mike smiles at you, relaxing back on the couch and slightly spreading his legs. 
“I mean, there is. But I’m not sure if you’d want to try it.” Mike says, resting his head against the back of the couch and looking over at you. You look over at the joint resting between Mike fingers and back to Mike. 
“Let’s do it.” You say with almost no hesitation. 
“Alright.” Mike says nonchalantly. “It’s called shotgunning. I’m going to take a hit, and then blow the smoke into your mouth. So you have to be ready for me, okay?” He continues, putting the joint between his lips and lighting it. You watch as he inhales the smoke and then blows it back out, the smoke exiting his body through his mouth and nose. He licks his lips and looks back over to you for confirmation. “Okay?”
“Okay.” You say with a nervous laugh that you try to play off. Mike takes another hit, and you watch as his chest rises with the smoke entering his mouth and lungs. All of a sudden, he’s grabbing your jaw with his hand and bringing you towards him. He opens your mouth with his thumb tugging at your lower lip and chin, and he’s blowing the smoke into your mouth. He’s so close, and this feels so intimate in a way that you try not to think about.
“Told you to be ready for me.” He mumbles as he pulls away from you, his thumb and forefinger still resting on your chin. You inhale the smoke, coughing a little but not nearly as bad as if you have taken a direct hit from the joint. The weed doesn’t taste great, and you crack open your soda to wash the taste and your semi dry throat down. 
“Well, you could’ve given me, like, a countdown or something.” You mutter and Mike gives a genuine laugh at that. He shakes his head at you, and you’re not sure if it’s the weed already starting to hit but you but you stare a little too long at the way his lips turn into that charming smile. 
“I can’t give you a countdown if I have smoke in my mouth, smartass.” You roll your eyes at his words but you can’t help the smile that creeps onto your face. You shuffle a little closer to Mike, your knee hitting his. 
“Well, whatever. Can we go again?” You ask, looking up at him. He nods with a hum, putting the joint to his lips and inhaling. You’re ready this time, lips parted as you watch the way his eyes flutter as the smoke fills his mouth. He turns to you, once again grabbing your jaw, and blowing the smoke into your mouth. His lips brush your own and before you can stop it, you let out a soft moan. Mike pulls away from you slightly, looking at you with a lazy smirk. He moves his hand from your jaw to your cheek, rubbing slow circles into the skin with his thumb.
“Someone’s enjoying this, aren’t they?” Mike says, his tone sweet but you know that he’s mocking you. His eyes bore into yours and you can’t find it in yourself to look at him, your eyes fixating on your lap. 
“Look at me.” He says, and you do. 
“Do you want to try one more time?” He asks, and you nod. Like the last two times, he takes a hit, bringing his mouth close to yours once the smoke invades his mouth. However, as he’s blowing the smoke into your mouth, he only seems to get closer with every passing second. His lips brush against yours hesitantly but you respond by leaning closer into him. The gap is closed and his lips are soft, and the room is spinning. You know the weed is probably a contributing factor but, god, this feels so good. 
Mike cups your face in his hands, cradling you like a piece of fine china. He bites your bottom lip, causing you to part your lips so he can slip his tongue inside your mouth. The kiss is needy and wet, but you don’t care. The only thing you can think about is how good his tongue feels caressing your own, and how the hand that was once on your jaw, is slowly trailing up your thigh. 
Mike pulls you onto his lap, pressing you down onto him and you let out a gentle whine. He breaks the kiss to look at you and your eyes divert to the place where both your laps are connected. 
“Don’t get shy on me, baby. C’mon look at me.” Mike says. You look up at him, starry eyed, and his gentle eyes are already on you. His hair is messy, his lips are swollen, and he definitely looks high. 
“There you go.” He says, praising you. “This okay?” 
“Yes. I want more.” You whimper, your hips softly grinding down on Mike. The weed is heightening all your senses, and your pussy is throbbing. You can’t think of anything else right now except reliving the ache between your thighs, and Mike looks more than happy to do that for you. He bucks his hips up as you grind on him, and you can feel his erection through his sweatpants. His hands have a strong hold on your hips, pulling you down onto him. 
“Mike, fuck.” You choke out. You two are grinding on each other like a pair of horny teenagers, but neither of you care. You two kiss each other messily, and when you pull away, a string of spit connects your lips. 
“Take off your jeans.” He simply says, and you couldn’t be happier to oblige. You wriggle off his lap, standing in front of Mike to take your jeans off. You can feel his heavy-lidded gaze on you with every one of your movements, and as soon as your jeans are off, he’s pulling you back onto his lap. 
His calloused hands are everywhere. On your hips, your ass, your inner thighs. He presses sweet kisses on your neck, sucking and licking on the places you’re the most responsive to. Your hands are in his hair, pulling and tugging at it, making him groan. 
“Can I touch you?” Mike asks, and you let out a quick “please.”
One of his hands trails up your inner thigh, reaching the wet spot on your panties. 
“Christ, you’re soaked.” He says, and you let out a shaky breath as he starts to rub you over your panties. You buck your hips into his fingers, silently begging for more. He pulls your underwear to the side, running his middle and ring finger up your wet cunt. His fingers find your clit immediately, rubbing lazy circles. You reach down to palm Mike's bulge through his sweatpants and in response, he sinks two fingers inside of you. 
“Fuck, you’re taking it so well.” He moans, pumping his fingers in and out of you. You clench around him, and the television in the background is now being drowned out by the sound of your pussy squelching around Mike’s thick fingers. The palm of his hand hits your swollen clit perfectly every time he moves his fingers in you, and you rest your head on Mike’s shoulder. 
“You know, you act all innocent, but you’re not really a good girl, are you?” Mike grunts in your ear. He adds a third finger and your legs clench around his hand from the stimulation. Your hand has now ventured inside his sweats and boxers, and you pull his dick out from the confines of his clothes. His cock is so hard, with pre cum steadily leaking from the tip. You spit in your hand and then bring it back to his dick, stroking him from the base to the tip. You massage his tip with your thumb and Mike lets out a whine.
“Y-you know what I think? I think you’re a- fuck, I think you’re a slut whose finally getting the attention she needs.” Mike grits out, and with his fingers curling in and out of you reaching a spot your own fingers have never been able to reach, you think you’d agree to anything he says. 
“Mike, I think I’m gonna-” You start to say, your legs shaking from your oncoming orgasm. But as soon as the words leave your lips, Mike removes his fingers from you.
“I wanna feel you cum around me, okay? Can you do that?” Mike says softly, and you eagerly agree. With your panties pulled to the side, Mike teases you with his dick, rubbing it up and down your pussy. He catches it on your clit every so often, making you jolt. Mike’s cock is glistening with a mix of your wetness and his own, and you decided to take matters into your own hands, grabbing Mike’s dick and guiding it into your pussy. You both moan out simultaneously, and the feeling of being full again makes you throw your head back in ecstasy. 
Mike lifts you up, so the tip of his cock is barely in you, before slamming you back down onto him. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, and you watch as the muscles in Mike’s arms flex everytime he lifts you up and slams you back down. His cock is reaching so deep, and being high only makes it feel that much better. 
“Fuck, your pussy is fucking perfect.” Mike whines, and he drops his head, letting some of his spit dribble down to where the two of you are connected. Mike brings his hand down to your puffy clit, rubbing fast circles. You let out a sob, lacing your hands through Mike’s hair and pulling him towards you to kiss him. Your moans are muffled into the kiss, and Mike slaps your ass, making you cry out. 
“C’mon, baby. You wanna be a good girl? Then cum for me.” Mike says, rubbing your clit faster and fucking up into you harder. Your cunt spasms around Mike as you cum, your legs shaking and for a second you swear you can’t feel anything except for the sheer euphoria making it’s way through your body. You drop your head on Mike’s chest as he cums inside you, and his grip on your hips is so tight it would hurt if you weren’t so fucked out right now. 
Mike’s soft voice is what coaxes you out of your bliss, and with his fingers running through your hair you think you could fall asleep right here on his lap with him inside of you. 
“Hey, you’re okay. You were so good, baby, but I need to get you cleaned up.” Mike says sweetly in your ear, and you slowly nod your head. You let Mike take you off of his lap and place you onto the couch, his release running down your legs. You watch as Mike tucks himself back into his pants and walks down the hallway towards the bathroom. You suddenly hear your cell phone ringing, and you reach down from the couch to fish it out of the pocket of your jeans on the floor. 
“Hello?” You say in your dazed state.
“Y/n? Did you get the weed? You were supposed to be back like an hour ago?” You hear Sara say on the other line, her tone laced with worry.
“Um, yeah. I got the weed.” You say, deciding that for now,  you should probably keep it a secret from your best friend that you fucked her dealer. 
taglist: @slutf0rmilfs, @angie-likes-to-art
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vendettaparker · 3 months
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GOOD :) i start school jan 30th and i have my own apartment and a little kitty :))) i’m hoping to try my hand at writing again soon but for now i enjoy just reading a reblogging when i can to stay active. it’s nice to get a mental break from all the plots running through my head and the formatting and all of that mess. but i’m always on here to read :)
and ofc here’s some pics of my perfect little boy. his name is egg :)
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HI BABYYY I MISS YOU 🤍
BEBE! I'VE MISSED YOU! how are you? <3
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vendettaparker · 3 months
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finnick odair who takes immense pleasure in the way you beg. he’s been at it for a while now, his lips lazily kissing your folds; you’re in between a blissful circumstance of heaven and unrelenting torment. he knew what he was doing, you knew that. the way he handled you always made you feel pure, in the most filthy way possible. “finn…. finnick, please.” the beginning now turned into a blur, and the duration of his endeavors eluded your memory to nothing but his tongue. fresh tears run down your face over dry ones, your legs so sore they lay spread, occasionally twitching when he lets his tongue slip into your wetness. “please,” you pant out, “need more. need you… please, god.” and finnick pulls up, his lips and chin glistened with your desire. “what do you need, honey?” his pupils are blown wide; he looks as fucked out as you, but the notable difference is the cocky grin he’s wearing as he observes you. “need you inside me,” you mumble out in a half whine, half sigh of momentary relief. “sweet girl, all you had to do was ask.” finnick odair loves teasing you for as long as he possibly can, savoring the sight of you in such a rewarding state—alike to a fallen angel who’s indulged in the life of such tempting sin.
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vendettaparker · 4 months
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— only love can break your heart
Prince Regent Aemond x Velaryon/Strong!Reader
Summary: Aemond does not know the limits of his own obsession.
Rating: Explicit +18 (Aemond completely obsessive and possessive, targcest, incest, sex)
Proceed with caution.
SENSITIVE TOPICS BELOW THE CUT!
English is not my first language.
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There is something inside you that is repulsed by Aemond. He can see it in your face. And it's not just now, or since you were taken prisoner by the Greens. No no. Aemond always felt like you avoided him, in one way or another. He felt it in his body, as if the thing was crawling under his skin. He always hated the feeling.
From early childhood, he heard rumors about women and their gifts of seduction – cautionary tales of an ethereal and unattainable beauty, but a mask-like beauty, beneath which a terrible evil lurks. Beware of women, some guards said amid whispered conversations in the corridors during waking hours, they will deceive you with their big eyes and soft smiles, they will lead you and your ideals to ruin.
And Aemond, young and foolish at heart, agreed vehemently, too frightened at the possibility of being dragged into moral decline and tarnishing his family's good name. He rejected women like a veritable plague. He scowled, growled, rolled his eyes (while he still had both) and ignored the latent curiosity inside him.
But no matter how hard he tried, Aemond was never truly able to resist your truly beautiful face.
His bastard niece.
“It’s you, again,” you say, looking at him with blank eyes. The sheer stoicism and disdain of it all burns him. "- What do you want?"
He blinks, trying to maintain his indifferent expression - even as there's silent disappointment pooling in his gut, like hot, viscous bile. There’s a desire that’s almost childish within him to see you smile, something you’ve never fully done in his presence. He caught glimpses of this from time to time, of course, as you grew up together in the Red Keep; glimpses of white teeth and dimples in your cheeks - but he never had the whole thing.
Sometimes, though, Aemond lies awake at night and tracks it down from memory. Shaking his fingertips in the cool breeze coming through his window, he pieces together little snippets of you - the curve of your cupid's bow, the gentle stretching of your lips as you smiled at some joke your brothers had told; even if it could hardly be considered worthy of any funny, in Aemond's opinion. But if he closes the one functional eye he has left tight enough, if he retreats far enough into his own mind, there are times when he can swear he's actually touching it. Touching your beautiful, delicate, happy face.
“What do you think I’m doing here, bastard?” He says simply, turning to face you, the insult sounding heavy and sour on his tongue, obviously causing more damage to him than it does to you. In the dim light of your cell, you seem almost like a shadow. Something dark and ghostly, barely human. Maybe he really broke you, took a lot of things from you - took a lot of people from you.
He has no regrets, however. It's war, bloody and painful, but he had (has) a goal. A goal that is bigger than himself. Bigger than the family that rebelled against the throne. Bigger than you. Even if nothing really seems to be bigger than you, taking up any and all remaining space in his mind.
You make a sound that might have been a dismissive snort, but might also have been a sad sigh, and Aemond resigns himself to your silence once again. You never say much when he comes here and he assumes it's because there isn't much to say. There was never much to be said between the two of you, no matter how much Aemond silently prayed otherwise.
He moves to cup your face in his hands and you curl up a little against the wall but don't pull away, already getting used to his subtle touches after the last few weeks of captivity. He runs his thumbs over your jaw, cheeks, eyelids, mouth and you make a low, high-pitched sound that makes him sad, round, bright eyes refusing to leave his.
"Why do you keep doing this?" You ask against his fingers, your voice low and whispery, and he can tell you're scared. Even when you're trying really hard to hide it. “— You never ask me anything. You just...come here and touch me like this. I don't understand."
He hears his teeth grind together before he realizes he's doing it. A tension sets in his jaw and all he can think of is ways to kiss you, fuck you, because talking to you never seemed like an option, but now you're talking. You're talking and he doesn't know how to react.
“And since when do I owe you explanations, bastard? Do you understand that you are my prisoner here and are in no position to question me?” He speaks, choosing the path of hate as always, but the words are tense, tense even to his own ears.
Your faces are so close now, nose to nose, and Aemond has to lean over you because you're so much smaller, so much more delicate, so much less sinful. The flesh of your cheeks is paper-thin beneath his fingertips, and however much he unbearably wants to break something, he must remember to be careful, to treat you with care, otherwise you will break it - you will turn to dust among his fingers and an acidic story in his memory. A small part of him wants you to do this; may you break and crumble, all so that he can put you back together, piece by piece, speck of dust by speck of dust. Transform you into something more willing, more open, something more capable of seeing him more freely.
You snort a little, as if you're having fun (in a way that has much less to do with anything actually funny and more with some kind of acidic, tragic humor), but you don't say anything. Though your eyes betray you as a small sliver of light bursts through the bars of the tiny window at the top of the cell, reflecting off your face like tiny specks of sparkling dust. It's almost poetic how splendidly sad you look in that sight; one part of your face half shrouded in shadows and the other side softly illuminated.
He feels you trembling slightly beneath him, as if you were terribly scared. He goes ahead and holds your hands, wraps your fingers around his, but it doesn't seem to stop the tremors. The cell is silent, cold and dark and Aemond (not for the first time) feels that urgent urge to tear down the walls with his bare hands until you are in the open air – somewhere where you can actually breathe and smile; smile your white dimpled smile.
But he wouldn't do that. He would never do that, in fact. Because he could never betray his family, especially now that he finally holds the position of Prince Regent. He would never be able to turn back on his cause and on everything he had already achieved, on all those he had already lost - not even for you. That doesn't make your prison any easier for him to deal with, however. You were not made for bars, for solitude and for the coldness of dungeons. You were made for adoration, for the purest devotion and for warmth. You were made for Aemond.
He watched you as the sky fell around you, glowing fractals of a god lesser than his creation; the universe is nothing more than collateral damage in your wake. He watched as the masses fell before you, new converts to your towering beauty. Jealousy tore him apart like pestilent rats upon the dead, the despair of his adoration like a living beast within his breast. You were his holy terror back then. It still is now. You were the beginning, the middle, it would certainly be his horrible end. You are like God to Aemond.
But were you his?
Difficultly.
You weren't his when you were innocent children, without the traumas of the legitimacy of a reign. You certainly weren't his now, when the world had collapsed on both of you in a bloody mess of fire and ash.
But Aemond just couldn't give up adoring you.
He had never progressed beyond gentle touches to your face and hair. And that's why it's a surprise, even for him, when suddenly his mouth is coming down to yours. He's even more surprised that you don't stop him - silencing the nagging voice inside him that tells him that you're just inert, an empty shell, a malleable, uncaring little doll. He doesn't want you indifferent and empty. Your indifference could very well wound him beyond what any dagger could.
His touch is gentle at first, even hesitant in his movements. Gently, slowly, he opens you up and tastes you from the inside out, tasting the subtle flavor of the peaches he had ordered the guards to bring you after dinner - your favorite fruit. It doesn't last long, however. There is an explosion that occurs far away within him, in some distant facet of his heart, that makes him want you so badly. Your soft (yet shamefully inert) lips are against his and he's immediately electrified by it.
His hands begin to roam your body, cupping your curves and rubbing them. You are the perfect antithesis, so cold by your inner nature, yet so warm to the touch; so sizzling in your words and looks. He wants to unveil you completely, peel off your skin, go through muscle and bone, and look deep into your heart to see if him has any place there. Even if it's a very small one. He wants to paint you red with his own adoration, leaving no room for anything else.
He hates the feeling that he can't do this and so Aemond decides that kissing you harder will be enough - has to be enough.
It won't be enough.
He knows this is an obsession. It was an obsession from the moment you smiled your dimpled smile at others (but never at him) with big, soft eyes, warm words, and unwavering determination. There could be no other explanation for the way he wanted and still wants you so intensely and greedily.
As his mouth massages yours, he brushes his fingers against the fabric of your pants. The material is a little worn but feels good on the fingertips, expensive fabric intended for royalty. You pant into his lips and shake a little more and he can taste something salty and wet on his lips, sliding between both of your mouths. Your tears.
Aemond pulls away, only to have your small hands clasp around the lapels of his leather outfit. He is surprised as he looks at your face; your eyebrows furrowed in something very close to pain, your eyes closed, your cheeks flushed and wet with tears, your lips swollen. You are beautiful, beautiful as you always were. But it feels better now and Aemond doesn't know exactly why.
"D-don't stop. Please -" you start softly, so softly that if he hadn't been so close, he wouldn't have heard. "I don't want to be alone...I want to feel - I need to feel something...don't leave me alone, I don't want to be alone, please -" your once indifference expression is no longer there and you are asking, begging, for that. The way your little hands curl deep into the leather of his shirt, pulling Aemond to you.
He finds himself trapped in the ambiguity of his own feelings. Anger and humiliation burn in his chest with the knowledge (the certainty) that you are only asking this - for him - out of desperation, out of fear of going crazy if you remain in this lonely, damp cell. But there's also exultation coursing through his veins at the fact that you want this - want him - regardless of all reasons. Aemond thinks those guards were right after all. The control that a woman is capable of exerting over a man is dangerous.
Aemond growls a curse - equally excited and humiliated - nuzzling his nose into your neck, smelling the vanilla essence on your skin from your recent shower. One of the amenities he made sure you had, even in your condition as a war prisoner.
He picks you up in his arms with ease, finding some amusement in the surprised sound you make before wrapping your arms around his neck for stability. Aemond makes quick work of discarding your pants down your legs once you're lying on the small bed in your cell, rubbing warm circles into your damp pussy.
How beautiful you are. Sacred and yet profane.
His fingers are calloused things, deeply cut and scarred as a result of a war that seems to last a lifetime and Aemond hears you sob as they slide inside you. The rhythm he sets is steady, strong and allows him to fit perfectly inside you. With every movement, your cries, low, squeaky things, sound a little louder and Aemond feels an embarrassing pride in how good he can make you feel. No other man could know what, where and when to touch you like he does, take the soft curves of your body and create a beautiful song in their place.
He will learn to play your body like an experienced musician and you will always sing the song he expects. He knows so.
Hot, heavy kisses pepper your soft flesh – your chest, your neck, your wet cheeks – whatever he can reach. He can't help the way his dark, twisted heart pulses to life as the situation unfolds, the way your moans seem sincere. Turning a blind eye, it's so easy for him to pretend you're a normal couple making love on a normal night. There may still be a difference in blood, in shades of eyes and hair, but together in this land of make-believe – you are happy. You are normal.
“Come on…please, I can’t -”
Your voice shatters in his ears, like an ornate stained glass window that is beautiful but extraordinarily faint. Normal couples don't feel so broken in each other's arms, Aemond realizes. You look like you're in pain, and he can't tell if it's in a good way. The pleasure is clear on your delicate features, but the way you're squeezing your eyes shut, your eyebrows drawn together in pain, is also an obvious reminder of how hard you're trying to disassociate yourself from the situation - trying to deny who's touching you and whether focus only on the sensation.
"Why are you doing this?" he breathes softly into your ear. His cock is incredibly hard in his pants and you whimper when he rubs it against your thighs. “— You...you beg me as if I hadn’t already given you everything I have. If I asked you what you want, you wouldn't even know, would you, bastard? Because you just like to take, all, everything.”
He knows it's unfair to take his anger out on you, and yet Aemond can't help himself. His fingers don't relent, hammering in and out of you, and you gasp, but the sound is both pleasurable and excruciatingly painful.
"That's...not true," you answer him, tenderly sucking your bottom lip into your mouth. He smiles cruelly.
"It is not?"
“No,” you begin in a low, tense whisper, fingers trembling as they’re snaking down to stroke his bulging cock, smoothing the outline that’s straining the fabric of his pants. He hisses when you release him from his confinement, thumb sliding over his thick, wet tip. "No, it's not. You're the one who took everything from me, uncle. What more could you want? You already have everything from me. Everything."
There is a surprising amount of truth in your words, a truth that eats away at Aemond like those terrible, incurable parasites that eat you alive from the inside. And yet, it's all a lie.
"No, not everything..." He mutters darkly. He doesn't have what he really wants from you - true feelings and dimpled smiles. However, he may still have something. Something grand and infinitely precious. Something that no one else had but him, that no one else would have but him. "But I'll take what I can, niece. Absolutely everything I can."
It wouldn't happen the way he had imagined, but Aemond wasn't picky on that point. What he really wanted was for the two of you to have your first time together on top of a mountain of dead bodies, in a crowd of dead bodies. Above all your suitors. Your admirers. Even above your dead relatives. He didn't want to scare you, no. He just wanted to show how much he cares. How completely whipped he was by you, how serious he was about you.
But it's perfectly fine as it is, too. After all, you should feel comfortable with how much he loves you. He wants you to give in. Let him take care of you.
And he would do it.
He would really take care of you.
A sweet care after attacking you a little. Tender kisses pressed to your chapped lips as you nurses your broken voice from shouting his name as if he were your god and not the other way around. And your tears. Your tears, tears cried for him, tears cried for him.
If anyone saw you like this, he would have to personally dismember them. With bare hands. His niece, his bastard, his girl, his precious and beautiful song of tragedy. For him, for himself to claim, for himself to maintain, for himself to control.
His own puppet. His own little doll.
He is the only one who could truly protect you in this chaotic world. The only one you needed. The only one who would always be there, in all circumstances.
Oh. When would this obsession end?
It made him drip in ecstasy. This scary dream he created for himself. A beautiful nightmare awaiting the entrance of his bastard. He would value you if it meant he could have you any way every day of the week - at the table, in bed, on the Iron Throne, in public. Between the legs, breasts or thighs. From the front, from the back. He's on top, you're on top. With your legs pressed against your breasts so you were forced to take him all, your pussy locked with his cum.
Damn, that's hot. A fucking mating press.
God. God. God, how he wants you.
He is painfully hard.
He suffers for you, he longs for you. His body groans in agony.
He wants you.
He needs you.
And he would be damned if anyone else had you before him.
If anyone has you after him.
Of course, the most indignant part of Aemond feels that you are entirely responsible for his suffering. If not you, who else could have caused this pain inside him? Who else could have reduced him to this pile of humiliation and desire?
The sound of an obscene crunch suddenly distracts him and Aemond realizes that the sound has completely filled the air. All that can be seen, heard, smelled and breathed is sex and he revels in it. His fingers are sliding in so easily and yet your grip is so firm and he could die in your hands right now, the happiest man in the Seven Kingdoms.
He's not sure how or when it happened, but your shirt is spread above your breasts. Oh, your breasts, soft and gently rounded, only draw him closer to you. He wraps his lips around your nipples, sucking them gently. Aemond's mouth twitches with increasing vehemence and he traces your nipple with his tongue, holding them tight and firm with his hand. Your chest heaves with every movement he makes, wetness dripping down between your thighs and he decides he must taste more of you. That he deserves to taste more of you. He thinks he might be dangerously selfish after all. But all Targaryens are. Especially you - always taking everything he has without even considering giving anything in return.
No more.
"Oh!" He hears you breathe, a few disjointed sounds falling freely from your lips as he squats on the floor, pulls your body to the edge of the bed, spreads your legs and licks you. Aemond's hands, large and determined, keep you from clenching as he delights in your intense heat. He hums contently at the taste of you on his tongue - bright, sweet in a way that almost whispers about summer - and you tense and squirm instead of sighing, pushing yourself against his mouth and threading your fingers into his silver hair. He licks you like you were his last meal; slow, deliberate movements of his tongue even as a dull pain begins to spread across his jaw — but Aemond can't imagine anything better than that. And then he slides his fingers back inside you, dragging his mouth up and pressing a wet kiss to your clit, swirling his tongue over it again and again and again, until your legs are shaking and your voice be hoarse and your thighs are slippery with sweat.
"Break for me, sweet bastard. Come on, give me some compensation..." He whispers encouragement (threat?) into the dripping heat of your pussy, immediately returning to tormenting your clit.
You moan and bang your head in defiance, but cum with tears on your tightly closed eyelashes. Aemond ignores them, plunging his tongue deep inside you and fucking your spasming walls. The skin of your thighs brushes against his cheeks, your legs giving way under the pressure of your orgasm. Your voice is hoarse, almost anguished, as you cry out for him. Aemond stays silent, removing his tongue and placing wide, open-mouthed kisses on your thighs, legs, knees, everything.
“Turn around, princess” he murmurs vehemently against your thighs and you obey, for the first time in your life probably, “— Bend over a little for me.”
You are quick with instructions, climbing onto the bed and showing off your round ass cheeks. Aemond almost laughs at the fervor of it all, at the clumsiness of your limbs. You have a subtle girlish charm that intoxicates his senses like the finest wine. It's intoxicatingly invigorating against the harshness of your usual behavior.
He pulls the leather shirt off his shoulders, leaving the expanse of pale skin and muscles visible, he lowers his pants to his knees, positioning himself against your slick folds, lightly sliding against them with the entire length of his cock wet with pre cum. Up and down and up and down and up and down - it's a punishing action, one that has you grinding your hips against him with little abandon, even while you're sobbing softly into the pillow. It's a contradiction, Aemond knows and understands your unnerving duality. You hate him, probably (you always have), but you also need him now - even if just his body. Your body cries out for physical contact, for human interaction, for company. Aemond will accept what he has, he will take everything he can from you.
Pleasure rolls through him like the raging waves of an ocean tide and he wants nothing more than to drown in you forever. There's heat and wetness as he enters you, an ecstasy that fills his body and settles deep into his bones. He fills you to the brim in one movement, deeply, selfishly, so that there is no room for anything inside you but himself. You scream into the pillow and try to move away, but the sound is distant, muffled by the beat of his own heart.
He fucks you slowly and cruelly, stretching you and filling you, using your body before your inner walls have time to get used to the invasion - the sudden taking of your purity. Your own body trembles beneath the mass of his, a slave to his cares. Your hands grip the linen below in a bruising grip, your nails scratching the surface and leaving small cuts in it. You're inexperienced, unlike him, and it shows evidently now; evident in the way you're not sure what to do with your own body. In the confusion of pain and pleasure. Aemond, touched by the feeling, places his hand on top of yours, intertwining your fingers as best he can. To his surprise, the action seems to evoke some sort of subtle affection within you. Your head tilts to the side, cheek pressed into the pillow and he feels it — light as a feather, but still: a kiss on his knuckles.
“I wish you didn’t hate me,” he murmurs, intoxicated by the unexpected gesture, as he fucks you with renewed strength. You scream, arching your back so hard it looks painful, even to Aemond. “— We could have this forever.”
A heartbeat.
"Hate? Is that what you think I feel?" You grunt, breathless and desperate, but hurt, disappointed and almost disgusted.
There's something gentle and maddeningly hopeful inside Aemond that shatters into a thousand pieces at your words. Here he is, holding you tighter than ever, plunged so deep inside you, and yet he can't get you in his hands.
You broke his heart, he realizes.
One of his hands, large and warm, slides between your legs and traces your clit in furious circles, his larger body falling onto your back and pressing you into the mattress. You squeeze him so hard it's almost painful, and he wants more. He wants to break you, make you hurt as much as you are making him. Being with you is a horrible, sordid game of chess, in which the pieces Aemond must trade are parts of his own soul, and each time he reaches you, he loses more of himself.
Through the sound of skin slapping, heavy breathing, tortured pleasure, he hears you moan. The sound is terribly erotic - long and tearful - and he feels an inexplicable need to hear it again. Thrusting his hips forward, Aemond's hand leans between your sweaty bodies and forward, squeezing your throat. You stutter a little, jaw dropping from the pressure, though your sounds of pleasure never seem to break or lessen.
“A-Aemond,” you say his name like a prayer, reverent and with tears in your eyes, soaking the linen below. “— Aemond, Aemond — “
Your heat convulses around him, building with a delicious friction that leaves Aemond blind. The euphoria is incandescent, molten and burns you from the inside out. He hears a roar, guttural and long, and realizes that it's him – that an animal has existed inside him for so long and you've drawn it out. All with beautiful eyes and a cold sneer and a sopping wet pussy squeezing his dick.
Together, you ride out your orgasm, your bodies rocking in perfect harmony against each other. Your breathing is so ragged that your body shakes with each inhale beneath him. He would be scared if you were a weaker woman, a woman who could not resist the cruelty of slavery.
The air is still and silence and against Aemond's own flesh you burn. You don't move to free yourself as he expects, instead relaxing your head into the linen. Aemond kisses the smooth expanse of your shoulder, breathing against the goosebumps on your skin. It's strange how concrete you feel beneath him, how tangible his obsession with you is.
“I don’t hate you,” you say after a long, thoughtful silence. Your words are shaky, even hesitant. “I just can't look at the darkness inside you. I can't accept who you've become..." There is hurt and pain in your words, words suffocating in sincerity. "— But you...you hate me. You always hated me, for who I am, for what I am.” You end with a blank stare into space.
It's strange how you seem afraid of Aemond, despite the practiced bravado in your voice. He feels your muscles tense inexplicably beneath him, your shoulder blades tightening beneath his chin. You don't feel like yourself (the memory of soft voice and sparkling eyes), but Aemond realizes that this is the truest version of yourself he's ever encountered.
"Sometimes yes." He murmurs, accent thick in your neck. It's subtle, but he feels you shudder, as if his words had hurt you. You wait a moment, opening your mouth to speak but closing it quickly. Your head hangs low in what Aemond realizes is thought but looks a lot like lament. He moves off your body and turns you around, looking directly into your eyes as he props himself up on his elbows.
"Do you hate me now?" You whisper. Your eyes are softly rimmed with a kind of weary sadness that Aemond often sees in his own reflection. But there is a clarity in your expression, something that begs for the truth of this sordid attempt at rapprochement. Under the shadow of your cell, it almost seems like you care. About him.
“Hmm, a little,” he murmurs in consideration. “—I think I adore you a lot more.”
Confession is a monotonous thing, uttered with silent pain. It's not romantic, it's not even particularly sincere — instead, it's an open, spoken-loud secret. It's common knowledge. The sky is blue. Winters are cold. Aemond is in love with you. It's true, in its most obvious and blatant state.
All the colors in your face: the blood-red stain of your cheeks, the clear glow of your eyes, everything disappears with his words. Aemond watches your features carefully, closely, and thinks you almost look haunted by him.
He slides his thumb over your clit and rubs, leaving you panicking - panicking - with your nerves on edge to the point where pleasure and pain are indistinguishable. Your small body trembles and your eyes widen, the unspoken question is clear: 'again?'
Aemond ignores you.
“I don’t care about anyone else but you.“ Violet eye narrow as he examines you, watching the way you squirm, pussy pulsing and wetting his fingers in rivulets as he teases you with slow strokes. "I will destroy anything and anyone that comes between us if that's the only way I can have you. I would burn this world down for you. And I will have everything I can from you. Do you understand?"
And then, he rips his fingers out of you as you're on the verge of another orgasm and he's not sure if the loud sigh you let out is one of relief or anger, but he quickly decides he doesn't care, adjusting himself on top of you, supporting your hips and pushing the tip of his weeping (and once again hard) cock against your entrance.
Aemond leans in until the apple of your cheek is pressed against his, his breath tickling the damp skin of your jaw as he speaks, dark and pained. "I will take you out of this cell, little bastard. Tonight. I will keep you in my chambers, like a guarded thing. Pretty, safe, and mine."
When he thrusts his hips until he's buried deep in your heat, the only sound that leaves your lips is his name - exactly as it should be. It steals your breath - it steals his breath, fucking you as the pleasure builds, freeing you from those pesky, useless little thoughts (of other people) and forces you to live in the present with him as your only guide and anchor.
Even as you tremble, muttering nonsense and dripping with desire, Aemond doesn't slow down, doesn't even falter. He simply presses a kiss to your cheek, his silver hair sticking to your sweaty body, the sticky sweetness of his kiss staining your skin slick with tears, and he sighs, a little breathless at how attractive you look - absolutely beautiful, so cute - and Aemond promises to never let others lead you astray again.
You are his God, it is you he owes devotion. And that's exactly what he would do. He would adore you with care and protection, he would kiss your body and make love to your mind...he would consume you completely until, with dedication and persistence, you would one day be able to give him what Aemond wanted.
What he had longed for since he was a foolish child...
Just a dimpled smile.
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@magnificentdelusionr @aemondsbabygirl @fallen-angel-thoughts @thegoddamncrazycatlady @queenofthekeep @at-a-rax-ia @marvelescvpe @diannnnsss @watercolorskyy @roguishnymph @persephonerinyes @croatianprincess @delilah1990 @fan-goddess @hanihoney88 @navyblue-eternity @gothicx @loving-enemy @ostricx @azperja @echos-muses @schniiipsel @snowprincesa1 @nezzlysixx @maximizedrhythms @maviee @ammo23 @dark-night-sky-99 @deeeeexx @hotdsworld @darylandbethfanforever9 @malfoytargaryen @pick95 @moonxhunt @tired-ninfa @fcbformulaeri @daydreamy-me @vyctorya @lovelymoonkiid @babyblue711 @namelesslosers @beautbuck @arcielee @ratfromdeepspace @brianochka @greenowlfactif @qyburnsghost @rwdkarla @dontforgetoctober3rd @violetexpress1
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vendettaparker · 4 months
Text
˚     . ✧ 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐄
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vol 2; summer breeze — king!steve harrington x fgirl!reader x eddie munson
summary: in which some chaos ensues between the boys and billy, and one of the boys finally get what they want; you. (wc: 6.5k+)
warnings: smut smut smut, minors DNI, p in v, creampie, unprotected (wrap it up irl im so serious) kinda fist fight? billy gets punched, im sorry but billy gets punched a lot in my fics, protective steddie hehe, drgs, weed basically, no use of ‘y/n’, degrading, praises, LOTS OF PRAISES, nicknames! reader is kinda heartless basically a maneater and kinda of a mastermind, eddie is a cutiepie.
authors note: not proof-read ignore mistakes ! thank u @andvys for giving me the best ideas always and thank u for helping me! ily and hope u enjoy this mwah!!! also yall know mastermind by ts? and how its kinda supposed to be sarcastic? well i took that song too seriously and literally. listened to a lot of metal and this fic is their love child! enjoy !!
and please like + reblog + interact to support me ! thank u ily
read vol. 1 here
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Fuzzy.
Exactly how your mind and body felt.
You didn’t expect to do that with Steve.
King Steve. You were just supposed to play with him.
He wasn’t supposed to make you feel like this.
And it wasn’t anything, it was purely physical. Or at least that’s what your mind forced you to think.
Because no one had ever made you cum like that before, no one ever attended to you like that before.
Pathetic. Really pathetic. You’ve fucked half the guys in Hawkins, yet one night with Steve, and he didn’t even fuck you, yet that’s all you could think about.
You sucked on the cigarette sitting between your lips, the feeling giving you a lewd reminder of earlier when you remembered how good he felt between your lips, sliding down your throat.
Shit shit shit. Shut the fuck up. What the fuck was wrong with you?
“Want something stronger than that?” The voice belonged to the curly-haired boy you were looking everywhere for.
It felt like a fucked up horny deja vu. 
Turning around swiftly, the smoke formed around the air between you when you blew it in his face, making him grin. “Eddie!” Your tone gleeful, “Been looking everywhere for you!” Sweet. Sweet but so fucking dangerous. Eddie knew that about you.
He knew about the effect you had on everyone. I mean, he wasn’t complaining, he was right there in line with them. Just to have a glimpse of you.
He and Steve shared one thing in common; you.
Maybe that’s eventually what drew them closer, both boys begging for your attention in every way possible. Pathetic, but you were so tempting.
They teased each other about you, Eddie bragged about the countless times you batted your lashes at him, the countless times you twirled and giggled at him.
and Steve bragged about how you looked at him with your alluring eyes, or how you called him ‘baby’ that one time. 
Eddie was sure he had never seen Steve the way he did with you, because Steve usually never got hung up on one girl, it was simple for him, he’d fuck one and then move to another. But you always kept him on his toes. Something no one ever did before. So he always tried and tried, failing regardless. 
He didn’t blame him, he’d burn the world down if you asked him to, even though the only interactions he had with you were when you bought something from him, or the countless times you winked at him whenever he saw you around. God, that had him on his knees. 
So it was no surprise he almost melted when you said those magical words. You? Looking for him? 
“Me?” A rush of bubblegum pink is quick to rise to his cheeks. He can’t help himself, Steve was going to freak out when he found out how you were looking for Eddie. God, he was going to have fun with this. 
“Where’s Billy?” He added, trying to sound cool when he lit the freshly rolled joint sitting on his wetted lips. 
He was cute. Didn’t even know the rumors, and the blush on his cheeks weirdly had you need him. 
“We broke up,” you hummed, and a boyish grin sat on his lips immediately while he noted how you didn’t have a sad bone in your body, that jerk didn’t deserve you. “I’m just having fun now, you know?” You added with a smirk. 
You were going to be the death of him. He could be fun, he could be so fucking fun, he could make you feel fun you’ve never felt before. 
“Oh, yeah? With who, now?” Shit, shit, shit. That is not what he meant to say, he was an absolute fucking idiot. A grade one asshole.  
Your eyes widened when you tilted your head, “are you calling me a slut, Munson?” You snatched the joint from his lips, earning a whine from him as you kept your piercing eye contact. 
The pinkish color on his cheeks turned blood red, and you could see him almost fidgeting. Why did you find it so endearing? 
“N-no! No that’s not what I meant at all! You’re not a slut! I mean if you want to be you could be— I mean you’re not but—” His words tangled with each other adorably, and you couldn’t help but let out a deep chuckle. 
“I’m just playing with you!” You playfully nudged his shoulder, adoring the way his grin came back instantly, you took a long drag from the joint before passing it back to him. “Don’t worry, baby.” 
Eddie almost lost it at that.
Suck it, Steve. She called him baby, too, and now they were fucking even. 
“I’m having fun with everyone that douchebag hates.” You muttered with a smirk. 
Eddie desperately needed to make Billy hate him, maybe he could rip him off the next time he brought from him, or maybe he could just… sucker punch him? 
“Steve was fun.” You giggled, remembering the way he was so pathetically begging for you to stay. And you had to admit he was good, the best you had in this messed up town. 
Eddie blinked quickly, struggling to process what you just said… You.. and.. Steve?
“Steve?” He almost stammered, face growing hot at what you were implying, did that little asshole actually manage to be with you? You?!? 
“Steve Harrington?” He repeated.
“Yeah,” you hummed, brows scrunching at his dumbfounded expression… What was going on? Was he… jealous?
 “You jealous, Munson?” You giggled with a smirk, brow raised and all bold. So upfront that it has Eddie stammering and blushing all over again. 
“N-no, uh— Steve is my friend is all.” He adds, taking a long drag from the joint to keep himself together, he has to look all confident because he wants to impress you. 
He just doesn’t know that you being all flustered is what draws your attention. Confident but still cute. The exact mix you need for Steve’s arrogance. And they’re friends? Fuck, just the thought of them together has you rubbing your thighs. 
“Oh!” You hum, “That’s funny because I was actually going to go for you, but Steve found me first.” You know the effect that will have on Eddie, you see it in the way he coughs while exhaling the smoke, wetting his lips while he tries to play it cool. 
Sadly, it’s all interrupted by the one and only. Billy fucking Hargrove. 
His hand roughly makes you turn to him before you can comprehend what’s happening, “Fucking Harrington, really?” He spat in your face, nostrils flaring with how angry he was, but all it did was make you want to laugh in his face—the audacity of this little boy. 
Eddie’s quicker than you to react, trying to push him away from you but Billy shakes off his hold. “Get away from her.” Eddie spits. Billy ignores him with a scoff, attention all on you. 
You hate the way your stomach flutters at Eddie being protective, what the fuck are these boys doing to you?
“You kiss Tina in front of everyone, and me fucking Harrington is the problem?”
“You fucked him?” Billy lets out through gritted teeth, technically, you didn’t but it seemed like Billy only thought the two of you kissed. 
Before you could answer he clenched his fists, “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him.” 
Shit. You really didn’t think this through, did you? 
A guilty feeling settled into your stomach, Steve didn’t deserve that. And he definitely didn’t deserve to get beaten up because of you. You swallowed the lump in your throat and grabbed Billy by the arm to stop him from searching for Steve.
“D-don’t!” 
“Excuse me?” Billy said, pinching his brows together.
“Please don’t do anything to him.” Eddie watches everything unravel, taken aback by how willing you are to throw yourself under the bus for Steve. It makes his brows furrow and makes him almost get a glimpse of you, behind that cool facade, behind that whole act. It entices him more and more.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Billy scoffs, “You fuck him one time, and look how pathetic you get. No wonder everyone keeps calling you a slut—”
A loud thud resounds in your ears, you barely register what happened before you turn to see Steve shaking off his fist with a smirk on his face. “Don’t fucking call her that again.” 
Billy chuckles loudly at the impact, blood quickly dripping down his nose and an obvious red mark bruising his cheek. “My my, Harrington coming to defend his new little slut, huh?” 
And this time, another thud of a punch resonated from your side, and you audibly gasp. 
Eddie. 
These boys were going to be the death of you, appearing out of nowhere and then doing shit like this. 
They stood in front of you, arms crossed against their chest as they eyed Billy groaning on the ground, it wasn’t long before Tina came with her annoying shriek and a crowd formed around the four of you, the two boys were quick to drag you out of the party. 
“Couldn’t stay away from me, could you, sweetheart?” Steve muttered in your ear with his lips twitched into a smirk. 
Cocky bastard. 
You gave him a slight smile. “Actually… I was looking for this one,” you hummed sweetly, hand gently nudging Eddie’s shoulder. A grin sat on his lips, he itched to elbow Steve, who just gave him a roll of his eyes. 
“But, thank you, both.” You give them a shy smile, it’s meaningful, and you’re grateful to have them protect you. 
“Anything for our special girl,” Steve winks.
“Want us to take you home?” Eddie interrupts, eyeing you, he can see that you’re a bit shaken up, even though you try to hide it. 
“No need, boys. Can walk home!” You giggle with a wink. 
“We insist.” Steve steps up, leaning into the car, hips jutted out. All slutty, and it’s tempting. But, no. 
You had fucked up enough today and gotten your feelings too involved. You couldn’t do it. 
You gave both of them a sloppy kiss on their cheek before you got on your feet, “My house is just around the corner.” 
“See you around, boys.” You winked one last time, turning back before they could say anything, walking away with a strut as you could almost feel their gaze burn your back. 
Both boys watched you with their jaws almost open, teeth biting onto their bottom lips with hope. They wanted—needed you. 
。°。°。°。°。°
“I’m tellin’ you dude, it was fuckin’ unreal. She was just so good,” Steve hummed into the ice cream he took a stripe of lick from.
Eddie grunted. “Jesus, fuck. Still can’t believe she let you even near her.” He glared daggers into him.
Steve grumbled a chuckle, nudging him. “Jealous much, Munson?” His lips curled into a boyish grin, face inches away from Eddie who was now stammering.
“C’mon, we can share, can’t we big boy?” Steve winked, enjoying the crimson red coloring the curly boy’s puffy cheeks.
“Nothing we haven’t done before,” He hummed, sucking his cheeks with a ‘mmhmm’ sound as the flavors of the strawberry goodness flooded his senses.
They did have threesomes before, but this was different, this was you. It meant so much more to Eddie, and selfishly, he wanted you to himself first, too. 
“If you can even get her,” Steve smirked, knowing if it took him this long, Eddie would have to try for years.
“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Eddie winked with a new-found confidence
“I’ll turn on the Munson charm.” He snapped his fingers together with a wicked grin, “and she’ll be beggin’ for me in no time.” 
Steve couldn’t even keep the throaty chuckle for a second before he patted Eddie on the back. “Good fuckin’ luck with that.” 
You shouldn’t have been eavesdropping, but how could you not when they were right fucking in front of you?!
And after Steve said, they had done threesomes before, your mouth watered just at the thought of both boys towering over you, attending to your every need, trying to dominate you but also pathetically begging for more. 
And if you framed everything correctly, they’d want to fuck you and would think they were the ones in charge, not knowing you were the mastermind behind all of it.
“Hi, boys!” You waved with a giggle, rushing to their side as your skirt rode up your thigh, both boys turning their bodies fully to meet you. 
Both of their Adam’s apple bobbing at the sight of you—a graphic baby tee showing just enough of your skin, paired with the most perfect skirt Steve has ever seen, and Eddie’s eyes were almost glued to your chest, enjoying the way your breasts jiggled as you walked. 
You couldn’t hide your smirk at their widened eyes, men were so easy. 
They both stammered, and you wished you weren’t enjoying this so fucking much. But, you were. You had to have both of them. 
Letting your tongue swirl around the cone in your hand, you looked up at Eddie. “What flavor is that?” 
“Chocolate,” He replied quickly, “I love chocolate!” You exclaimed, and Eddie grew weak in his knees, gulping and letting his cock strain himself against his zipper. God, he felt like a fucking pervert. 
“Do you wanna try some?” He barely managed to speak clearly and you nodded quickly with a grin, Steve watching it all with a huff. 
Without giving him a chance to do anything, you wrapped your palm around his, giggling while you let the cold silkiness coat your tongue, lapping at it while your focus remained on Eddie’s dark eyes. 
He almost groaned at the sight; you knew that was your cue. “Tastes so delicious, Eds.” You hummed with an exaggerated sound, reveling in the way Eddie blinked quickly to register all of it. 
“Wanna try mine?” Steve’s silky, cocky voice had your attention shifting, you raised a single brow, shrugging. 
“Already tried that, thanks,” Your voice carries a bit of coldness but is still alluring enough to have Steve crave more from you. 
“I don’t think you tried all of it, sweetheart,” His voice still held that cool tone, tongue sticking out to lick a stripe from the cone wrapped around his palm, almost giving you a flashback as rosy lips framed the words so lewd that you had to do something. 
You were quick to tilt your head sideways, leaning in just enough to have your velvety lips against his, Eddie watched in awe, enjoying the way you sucked on Steve’s tongue, letting the sweet strawberry flavor explode your taste buds as exaggerated sounds left your lips as you pulled away, leaving Steve with nothing. 
“Mhmm, you’re right, Stevie,” You hummed, Steve’s face wearing a shock you hadn’t seen before. “But I think mine, tastes so much better…” You cooed facing Eddie, “Wouldn’t you agree, pretty boy?” You directed it at Steve, relishing the dumbfounded look on his face, while Eddie watched all of it with a contented sigh. 
He needed both of you. 
You needed both of them. 
And Steve would do anything for you, and for Eddie, even if he never would explicitly show it. 
“Y-yeah,” he stammered, bringing a wicked smirk to your face. Easy. 
Before you turned to leave, you faced Eddie, “Oh!” 
“Do you have any free time this afternoon?” If you gave him those eyes and that sweet tone, he’d give you all of his time in the world. 
“Uh-huh, of course.” He's sure his voice sounds so squeaky but you smile at him so sweetly that it melts away all his worries.
“Okay, do you mind if I drop by? I need something to relax, and to let a little bit of my steam off…” You winked at him, you couldn’t be more obvious, and Eddie almost went limp at your words, no need for the Munson charm after all. 
“S-sure!” He exclaimed, mouth curling into a wide grin. 
“See you later, boys.”
。°。°。°。°。°
“Really?” Eddie eyed you with a raise of his brows, getting more and more comfortable the further both of you inhaled from the rolled joint, your knee brushed against his, and his worries ghosted away with it. 
“You think Michael Myers is hot?”
“Yeah!” You nodded, “Too weird for you, Munson?” you nudged him playfully.
“No, no! It’s just… how? He has a mask on,”
With a shrug, “The mask is the appeal,” you giggle. 
He scrunches his brows, confused. “The mystery of the mask is what makes him sexy.” You shrug, and a soft ‘oh!’ escapes his lips. 
He’s quick to ash the joint to the skull resin ashtray, getting up in a rush, causing you to furrow your brows, “what the hell are you doing?”
He turns with a grin, “getting a mask.” 
You giggle at that, “Oh, trust me, you don’t need a mask pretty boy.”
“W-what?” He blinks quickly to process all of it, bringing a wide smile to your lips as you almost drag him by the collar of his shirt. 
Eddie’s almost frozen, his mind explodes at how forward you’re being, pants getting tighter when he realizes how close you are to him. 
It’s finally happening and he can feel himself melt into you, he lets you stripe him of his control and his lips part slightly in surprise. 
Mind struggling to process if this is all real. With a giggle you take him by surprise when you tug your fingertips at his messy curls, twisting his head to the side as you crash your lips down to his. 
Dangerously sweet, addicting, and bold. And Eddie is putty in your hands.
“The prettiest lips,” you hum into his mouth. 
“Yeah?” He almost blushes a rosy color, and you can’t help but relish that feeling, letting it sink to your chest at how beautiful he looks when he’s so flushed, and you realize you need both of them. 
You need Steve’s cockiness, you need Eddie’s tentativeness at the same fucking time. 
And both of their dominance. 
You whimper needily, the feel and taste of his soft lips flood all over your body, making you ache. Holy shit, he’s fucking good. 
“F-fuck,” He whimpers as he pulls back, mind trying to register everything, but he’s quick to dive back in once he realizes he just stopped kissing you. 
A passionate, needy kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth, teeth nibbling on your bottom lip, as his hand roughly grabs your waist, pulling you further. You feel hot, skin buzzing at how demanding he is. 
Then he slowly moves from your lips to your jaw, down to your neck, leaving sloppy kisses all over, and you can’t help but feel that warm slickness coating your thighs at how fucking needy he is for you. 
And you know exactly what you need to do to lure him in, entirely. 
“N-need you, Eds,” you whine into his lips, brows pinched together and Eddie’s already about to explode in his pants, you’re fucking perfect. 
“Where do you need me, angel?” He asks, all obedient and it has your core throbbing with need. 
Your thighs part slowly, skirt riding up more and more as you expose yourself to him, and Eddie’s teeth drag on his bottom lip at the sight. “Here,” nails rake on the surface of the couch beneath your legs, pussy fully on display. 
He almost groans at the sight, but no, he has to take control back again, he has to impress you. 
And he wants to savor this moment, enjoy you, fully. 
It gives him all the confidence he needs, with a slight push he has you on your back, sprawled on the couch, you’re surprised by the sudden change of control, but anticipation jumps in your insides, not knowing his next move is exciting and you let him enjoy it. 
His hands start to idly run everywhere on your body, all grabby and rough. You don’t know what to expect from him, and it certainly isn’t this, his hold on your hips, breasts, and thighs, enough to leave a mark, still gentle, still attentive but equally rough and it has you almost whining out. 
He’s perfect. 
“Needy baby,” He hums, planting a sloppy kiss on your neck. “What do you need… my fingers or my tongue?” 
You shamelessly spread your legs further, enjoying his weight on top of you, hard bulge pressing against your thigh, but you need more. “Both.” 
And your whiny answer is all he needs, his rough hands travel down to your inner thighs, almost toying as he drags his mouth all over you. Nibbling and biting all over your neck, shoulder, breasts, everywhere. 
He’s quick to drop down between your legs, and he groans at the sight of your puffy lips and dampened thighs, “Jesus Christ…” His teeth draw on his bottom lip.
“No panties?” 
“Nuh-uh,” you giggle shamelessly, and he’s almost fucking gone. The fabric of his pants so painfully harsh against his erected cock that he hisses. 
Your legs quiver when he traces a finger around your opening teasingly and his mouth is pressing kisses down your inner thigh, sloppy and filthy. 
“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he hums into you. 
Your little whimpers and the sight of you so relaxed make Eddie a madman, he understands Steve’s non-stop blabbing about you the last few days, granted, he always knew you were perfect. 
But once he gets a taste of this, and a sight of you like this, he knows he can’t fucking quit, ever. 
“More.” You hiss out a breath as his fingertips gently circle your clit. It’s demanding, and Eddie’s amber gaze is dark as it meets yours. “Behave,” He warns, it’s electrifying, making you want to disobey more than anything, everything about him draws you in. 
With a smirk, you run your hand down his arms, meeting his fingertips with a gaze so dangerously lewd that Eddie’s eyes almost roll to the back of his head. “But I’m aching… I need so much more.” 
He groans, loudly. “So fucking needy, aren’t you? Only for me, huh?” 
He wants reassurance, he wants you to tell him he’s better than Steve. And you don’t, because you need both of them, so you just tease him enough, just so both of them could get the idea of proving themselves to you. 
You could just imagine them both taking turns, trying to prove to you which one would make you cum more, complementing each other, striping you out of your control, just for that one second, not knowing that you planned all of it.
It’s sick, a bit deranged, and stupid. But exactly what you need.
“Mhmm, only for you, baby.” 
Endearing words have him quick to push two fingers inside of you, still agonizingly slow, withdrawing a breath when he feels your slick walls. 
His fingers slowly go in and out of you, the suspenseful score from the movie almost mirrors your heartbeat, rising each time he gives you a grin, basking in your whines. 
“Look so pretty like this, sweetheart,” he praises, enjoying how your lips part slightly, pretty whines coming out of it. He circles your clit at a slow pace, still. Relishing in the way his name slips past your mouth so desperately, almost begging. 
He presses a light kiss to your clit, and you shudder at the impact, gazing down at him, “You like the way I look between your pretty thighs?” He hums into your walls. 
“Yes,” You coo, and he doesn’t hesitate to dive in, parting your cunt with his thumb before his tongue is teasingly lapping up at you. 
It’s all so filthy and intimate that you immediately squeeze your eyes shut, his fingers, his tongue, it’s all too much but at the same time not enough. 
You need him, you need more from him. It’s just not enough. 
“Makin’ prettiest noises for me, such a good girl, aren’t ya?” You hum excitedly, all fucked out as you grind yourself on his mouth, you don’t know what it is, but you can’t help yourself, fingertips latched onto his curls, head thrown back, you feel like screaming. 
And he’s torturously slow, giving you everything you need but not fully everything, withdrawing just a little to have you go crazy. And it’s fucking working, his tongue works wonders inside of your walls, his name falling like a prayer from your lips. 
Not fucking enough. And it’s frustrating, to feel so on edge. 
You shouldn’t do this, you shouldn’t beg for more, but you can’t help it, it’s all hazy and you want more, it’s like you’ve been deprived, and he feels so fucking good. 
And maybe, you letting Eddie fuck you could drive Steve further, you could just imagine the scorched face on Steve’s look when he found out, and you want that mean side of him. You want him to compete for your attention, you want him to stripe you out of your control, for once in your fucking life.
You try to drag at his curls to feel his tongue more and more, flicking at your clit agonizingly slow but he slaps your hand away, warning you with his dark gaze. 
“I need more,” you pout, looking down at him all doe-eyed. 
“Need you to fuck me,” you whine with a hidden smirk, Eddie’s eyes flashing a hunger that has you all excited in your tummy.  
“Needy little slut,” he murmurs in your ear. “Steve wasn’t enough for you?” You love the newfound confidence in him, the sudden change in his tone, the darker his eyes get, the way he cooes has you dripping with need. 
You shake your head with a giggle, “Steve didn’t fuck me.” 
“What?” That brings an unintentional grin to his lips. You didn’t let Steve fuck you but you were going to let Eddie fuck you? Oh, he could just cum in his pants right then and there. 
You? Begging to be fucked by him? He was in heaven, and you were the prettiest angel. 
“No wonder, he can’t fucking shut up about you,” 
So your plan was working. 
“I don’t blame him, angel. I wouldn’t be able to quit you right after I tasted you either, so fucking perfect, hmm?” He gives you a dazzlingly addicting kiss, lips tasting like you and you hum into it. 
You try to pull him closer by his shirt, but he doesn’t let you, making you pout innocently at him. “I need you.” You don’t know how he has you like this, and you try to make your brain believe that this was your plan, but you wholeheartedly want this, you want him to fuck your brains out. You want him to make you cum until you physically can’t anymore. 
A possessive look sits on his face, gaze all dangerous and it has you wanting more, “You have me.” A wicked grin overturns on his lips, he’s quick to get rid of his clothes, almost ripping open your blouse. Fingertips brush over your skin with such passion that it almost burns.
He groans at the sight of your breasts, hands itching to grab them, mouth watering at the sight. “So.” A kiss on your breasts, “fucking”, a nibble, “perfect.” His hands grabbed everywhere, mind reveling in everything.
Still struggling to realize if this was all real or not. He was hooked, so fucking hooked. 
He couldn’t blame Steve for not shutting up about you, you were addicting. He was right, maybe the two of you could share. He wouldn’t be opposed to it at all, if there was one thing the three of you were good at, it was this. 
“That stays on.” He hums against your chest, fingers sliding over the tight little skirt you were wearing, flipping it over to your stomach but not taking it off.  
You were whining like a bitch in heat now, eagerly watching him take off his cock from his already wet boxers, patches of pre-cum had formed on it and you couldn’t help the delicious smirk on your face. 
With a painful groan, his cock slipped past his boxers, and your eyes widened at the sight. 
Salmon pink tip pearled with his pre-cum, looking so delicious that your mouth involuntarily opened at it, he was almost as big as Steve, only thicker, and slightly more curved to the left, perfect, just fucking perfect. 
You understood his cockiness when it came to this, he was absolutely packing and by the way he had been acting, you could tell he knew how to fucking use it. 
He leaned back slightly, still positioned between your thighs before he took his cock in his hand, with a dangerous gaze, he jerked at it, letting out a small groan with a sly smirk. 
You could feel your thighs dampening when he circled the angry tip over your clit. “That feels good, doesn’t it, angel?” Mocking, cruel, teasing. And you loved every fucking second of it. 
“Y-yeah,” You murmur, eyes squeezed shut, your thighs are almost shaking and he’s watching you with a smirk, it’s all too sensitive and everything he does gives you an electrifying pleasure that you haven’t felt before. 
Shutting up all the avoidant voices in your head that tell you you shouldn’t be doing this. Your thoughts and your body is consumed by pleasure as you hazily look down, his hand still on his cock while he drags it down through your folds. The tip of his pink slit parts you slightly, enjoying the way you’re gushing for him. 
“Jesus fucking Christ… look at this cunt… just soaked for me,” he growls and lines his throbbing cock at your entrance, a loud needy moan escapes your lips, making him gloat.
“Look at how greedy your pussy is, angel… practically pulling me in.” He teases, cock still dragging along your folds, and you are about to embarrassingly beg, before he finally drives his cock the rest of the way into your aching cunt, “Fuck, fuck, fuuuck!” He groans loudly, his moans deliciously lewd. And your whines are mixed with his. 
His hands are everywhere, rough, and grabby, almost like they are marking you. His hips thrust further into you fucking all of your worries away. 
“Look how well you’re takin’ me, doll.” He hums, eagerly watching the way his cock disappears in and out of your soppy walls, mouth hanging open as curses slip past it at each of his movements. 
“Eddie…” You whimper, you can’t focus, you can’t even fucking think. Your brain is short-circuiting by how good everything he feels, how he is hitting that one spot and is stretching you wider and wider, and you are doing everything you can to adjust to his size. 
“What d’ya need, baby?” He coos mockingly.
He’s so much more cocky now, and he has earned it because he’s that good and you’re awfully pathetic for him. 
You want to speak, but it’s almost as if you’re unable to, it’s frustrating, and Eddie is loving every second of it. 
“Awww, so cock drunk that you can’t even speak, princess?” Another harsh thrust has you whining and squirming. 
“You need more, baby? Need me deeper inside of this tight little cunt?” He hums, cock slamming inside of you so agonizingly slow that it has you moaning for more, you’re simply fucked out and he’s too far gone. 
“Need me to stretch it out with my big cock?” You nod so quickly that your head almost falls off, and Eddie’s chuckle reverberates loudly, echoing in the room with your whimpers. 
“Greedy little slut.” He picks up his pace, and you’re fully lost in desire now, clinging to him as each of his thrusts pushes you closer and closer, he’s filling you to the brim and it nearly has you sobbing beneath him. 
“You feel so good, sweetheart. Fuckin’ soaked for me and this tight cunt was just made for my cock, wasn’t it?” He growls against your neck, licking a path from your collarbone to the shell of your ear, grinning like a Cheshire cat. 
Your eyes are squeezed shut, head thrown back in full euphoria while he thrusts in and out of you, setting a hard, brutal pace. Teeth sucking into your shoulder to slow himself down, to stop the release he can feel building.
Incoherent babbles are all that leave your lips, you can feel that familiar knot forming in your stomach, “Y-yes, yes!” You whine, “I’m close, baby.” You lift your hips, trying to grind it against his cock to get more friction. 
It’s all filthy and desperate and it has Eddie’s eyes rolling to the back of his head. You’re so fucking perfect for him and you stick to his mind. 
This image of you, begging, his name falling from your swollen lips, all fucked out and spread for him. It’s doing the best fucking damage to his mind and he can’t get enough of you. 
“You gonna cum for me, honey? Wanna soak my cock?” His words are so lewd and it has you nodding like an idiot, you want him to cum with you, you need to feel him inside of you. Filling every fucking inch of you. 
He can feel your pussy clamping around him, it’s all glorious and he wants nothing more than to engrave this image of you to his brain. He wants Steve to know, how you were mewling for him. “Cum for me, angel.” He praises, slamming inside of you deeper than before, thrusts getting sloppier the more he sees how close you are. 
He wants nothing more than to last, but your whimpers, the way you take him in, your mouth hanging open, it’s all fucking too much, and he knows if you give him one more whine or one more filthy talk he’s going to explode. 
You writhe under him, so painfully good, but fucking impossible to hold yourself back once his thumb circles around your clit.
“W-want you to cum, too. Need to feel you i-inside.” You encourage him, and he groans at the idea of cumming together with you, balls drawing up and ready to fill your insides. 
“Fuck, fuck, fuuuck, baby,” He growls, slamming into you once, twice, thrice. “If you say shit like that I’m gonna—fuck, fuck, fuck, baby!” He can feel his cock filling you to the brim, hitting that sensitive spot one last fucking time and you know it’s over.
“Cum for me, pretty boy.” You cry out as you orgasm, pleasure shooting through your already hazy mind, and that’s all the encouragement Eddie needs before he chases his own release. 
He pounds into you one final time, deeper and harder, in a frenzy with how badly he needs to cum inside of you. With a few ‘fuck’s and ‘shit’s, and ‘so f-fucking perfect’s he growls your name as he fills you up. Not slipping out until he’s sure you’re filled full of him. 
He collapses next to you with a sigh of breath, a sloppy kiss on your shoulder as he’s trying to register what the fuck just happened. 
You don’t give him a minute to breathe when you quickly get up, collecting your blouse as you ignore the confused look on his face. 
“What are you doing?” 
“Getting ready?” You answer with a giggle. 
“What for?” 
“To leave, pretty boy.”
“B-but we just-” 
He sounded so adorable, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t allow yourself to fall into a mess of feelings, and yet without knowing, you were already walking right into it. 
“I’m going to this thing at The Hideout today.” You murmured while fixing your skirt and hair in the mirror. Skirt creased and hair all chaotic. You thought you looked a fucking mess, but Eddie would argue that's the prettiest you looked.
Ruined by him.
“There’s this band—”
“Corroded Coffin?” Eddie replied quickly. 
“How did you know?” You turned with a raised brow, intrigued. 
“You’re looking at their lead singer, sweetheart.” He replied smugly, a grin sitting on his plump lips. 
“Oh my god!” You said in a mock screeching voice, “Can I please get your autograph, Mr. Rockstar?” You batted your eyelashes with a twirl of your hair, giggling when he narrowed his gaze at you. 
“You’re lucky, you’re so pretty, huh?” You shouldn’t have felt your cheeks heat at the comment because he just fucked your brains out, but shit was he smooth. Making you blush with one fucking compliment. You were way too deep into this, weren’t you?
“So you listened to our stuff?” He asked, with a beaming smile on his face, too cocky. And it killed you to tell him you didn’t when he had the most adorable look on his face. 
“No, but, this might be a great first listening experience.” You hummed, “So make sure you don’t suck, Mr. Rockstar.” Your hand turned the doorknob when you threw him a wink. 
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I will rock your fuckin’ world," He returned the wink. “Again.” He said with a smug smile and a cool tone. 
You rolled your eyes playfully at him, “Oh, and make sure to invite Steve too.” You hummed nonchalantly as Eddie nodded, almost obediently.
He would do anything you asked him to. 
Maybe you shouldn’t have accepted to go, because it was never any good to fuck the same guy twice, especially with someone like Steve who just slept around, or someone like Eddie who wore his heart on his sleeve. It would either end with your heart broken or theirs. Things always got too messy.
But both of them were just so… good. And you had this opportunity to have both of them.
How were you supposed to hold yourself back? 
。°。°。°。°。°
“No fucking way.” Steve said exasperatedly, shaking his head and denying what Eddie told him for the hundredth time. 
Eddie groaned, growing frustrated, “Yes fucking way, dude, ask her!” 
“Ask her what, whether you fucked her or not?” Steve narrowed his gaze when he turned to him, words laced with bitterness, if Eddie didn't know him better he'd say Steve was jealous. 
And he was.
“Yeah, because I did, and she fucking loved it.” 
“Bullshit.” Steve spat, his face still wearing a shocked look that had Eddie grinning. 
His mind was almost spiraling, that insecurity he felt years ago almost returning and the image was quick to shatter. Why didn’t you want him? Why did you want Eddie? 
“C’mon, Stevie,” He elbowed Steve playfully, enjoying this. Steve gloated for days about you, for days. And now he had something bigger to tease him with.
Because you, who rejected every idiotic boy in this town, who even rejected 'King Steve' begged for Eddie. And he couldn't help but bask in that, especially to annoy Steve further. “Don’t be jealous, I thought you said we could share.” Eddie grinned like an idiot, brushing his shoulder against his teasingly.
And it was getting to Steve, the idea that you didn’t want him. Like you could see right through his King Steve bullshit. “Fuck you, man.” 
“So, what? You can have her, but I can’t?” He said with a little bitterness spilling out, eyeing Steve. 
“No, dude, just—” Steve sighed, “I can’t fucking get my mind off of her.” He mumbled, almost embarrassed.
“Neither can I!”
“So what the fuck are we supposed to do now?” Desperate, pathetic, and horny. Ironically, that’s how you were feeling too, without knowing that’s exactly what the boys were feeling too. 
“Don’t worry, I’ve got that covered.” Steve looked at Eddie with a narrowed gaze.
“She’s coming to the show tonight,” Eddie hummed excitedly, “and she asked me to invite you too.”
Holy shit. That brought a saccharine smile on Steve’s face, it was stupid, to be so excited over something like this. But that meant you did want him. Stirring his stomach in the best and worst way possible, he wanted to shake it off, but he fucking couldn’t.
Jesus fucking Christ. What were you doing to him?
“Dude, do you realize what that means?” 
“What?” Eddie inquired. 
“Oh my sweet, sweet, Munson…” Steve tssked, “She wants both of us.”
“Oh, shit.” The realization was slow to hit Eddie, his mind still replaying what happened with you over and over again. “Wait you— uh, you’re okay with that?” Eddie asked, almost nervous. 
“Yeah, dude, why wouldn’t I be?” Steve shrugged carelessly, it wasn’t anything they hadn’t done before, but Eddie still felt nervous, because this time it did feel different, with both of you. 
“Besides we can’t keep our girl depraved now, can we?” 
2K notes · View notes
vendettaparker · 4 months
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˚     . ✧ 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐄
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vol 1; made to break your heart — king!steve harrington x fgirl!reader
summary: in which you see your ex making out with someone else leaving you with no choice but to fall right into the lap of his enemy, steve harrington. (wc: 5.2k+)
warnings: smut smut smut, minors DNI, or*l sx (receiving and giving oop), some good ol’ bj, drinking, drgs, weed basically, no use of ‘y/n’, degrading, praises, LOTS OF PRAISES, they are both switches but idk if that counts??, nicknames! reader is kinda heartless basically a maneater, steve is an arrogant bastard, and hes got a big BIG di–heart. some lil’ eddie mention that u might miss if u blink!
authors note: i am kinda thinking a pt.2 of this IM open to all ideas, but i kinda am thinking of making it like a mini-series? and maybe introduce eddie in the second part, and then make part 3 steddie? mmmhmm? what do we think? my asks r open for all and any ideass anyways not proofread bc of my lazy ass. ignore any mistakes.
please like + reblog + interact to support me ! thank u ily
read vol 2 here
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Booming music filled your ears, sweaty bodies swaying away from you but you couldn't care less.
Whispers from your back, collected gasps, and all you could do was watch. 
Fingertips clutched on your dress in fury, gaze unable to tear away from the scene playing out right in front of your eyes. 
Tina’s lips were locked onto Billy’s, you thought it was pretty soon to be swapping salivas considering it had been barely two days since he broke up with you. 
The red cup in your hand was almost smushed from the hardened impact of your fists, with a quick go, you downed it, ignoring Tommy and Carol’s cackles as they watched you. 
With a roll of your eyes, you were quick to turn away from them, ignoring your friends calling out for your name—you didn’t need this, you didn’t need to be pampered. You just needed a generous amount of drinks, and maybe someone to keep yourself busy with. 
Tina and her lame-ass party could go fuck themselves.
Billy was an asshole, no real surprise there. And you didn’t care, because the relationship had run its course, again. Tough shit. You were used to it. Another break up with him. 
You didn’t care about it, the only thing you cared about was him crossing the line, making out with another girl in front of everyone. 
Each break, the two of you fucked whoever you wanted to fuck, just to end up together again, drunkenly. But this time he made it everyone’s problem, and you couldn’t let him get away with that. 
The whispers, and the collective giggles every time you passed by were making your blood boil.
You couldn’t let that dipshit ruin your reputation, you weren’t going to pathetically pine over someone who could barely make you cum. And you weren’t going to let any of those gossiping assholes think otherwise. 
You stumble onto the porch with a string of curses leaving your pouty lips, quick to fish out a joint courtesy to that Munson kid, always providing you with the best weed, either free or cheap, depending on how much you adjusted your skirt or batted your lashes at him. 
Maybe, you should pay him a visit. For fucks sake, you’ve seen him play, and he could roll a joint blindfolded, he knew how to put those fingers to use.
You could just imagine the scorching look on Billy’s face, his velvety lips scrunched together, a sickening feeling sinking into his stomach, knowing that you fucked Eddie Munson, the guy he always went to get his weed from.
The idea of it brings a delicious smirk to your lips. But it wouldn’t be enough, no. You needed something more, something bigger. 
“Need a lighter, honey?” A coarse, smooth tone has your head cocking, the joint sitting on your lips rising with the impact. 
Steve fucking Harrington.
Falling right into your lap.
Billy would’ve flipped the fuck out if he knew. He always warned you about him, telling you that Harrington was off limits, no matter what. Well, until now. 
Your gaze locks with his, dangerous, filthy, and exactly where you want him. Before you can drag out the joint to answer him, he acts quicker, brushing his fingertips on your chin, almost tugging you closer to him, he licks his lips, wetting them with a chuckle.
With a gentle flicker of his lighter, the tip of the joint smolders, casting a warm glow to your face that accentuates the smirk curved on your lips. 
Your dress rides up your thighs when you straighten up, taking an inhale from the joint, you blow the smoke in his face without a care. He eyes each of your movements, the stupid grin sitting on his lips growing wider the more his eyes move up and down your body. You almost want to chuckle at how easy this is. 
But you also know Steve’s type, you have to make them chase you a little bit, give them a little thrill, before you finally give in. And you had already been doing that, for the longest time.
Always teasing him, but never giving in. Your hands always brushed past his bicep just enough to let him know you were interested, eyelashes always fluttered at him, teeth biting on your bottom lip as you checked him out. 
The little game had been fun, but you never plucked up the courage to fully give in to him, Billy would’ve lost his shit. Besides, you knew his type, and you didn’t want to be one of his other trophies. And you didn’t have to be, you just had to use him to get yourself off, and piss Billy off. The second you walked into a room with him, you knew the party would be buzzing with the gossip.
You had the perfect excuse, the perfect excuse to finally divulge your fantasies, all the cheerleaders always blabbered about him, calling him an ass, but an ass who knew how to properly use his fingers and that dangerous mouth.
Exactly what you fucking need.
You had been pent up enough for the months you were with Billy.
This would be a little reward. 
“All alone?” He was smug, he absolutely knew about the break-up and possibly saw Tina and Billy’s show, so he knew this was the perfect opportunity to have you in his palm. In a fucked up way, that made you want him more, the unspoken game grew more intense with that gaze of his, he had the same idea you did. The fucker was smooth. 
You nod curtly, not wanting to just fall into his lap. No matter how good he looked in those Levi’s jeans that cupped his ass perfectly. Why was he so fucking interesting to you? Arms all toned, face adorned with tiny moles, he almost seemed mystical. 
And oh god, his hair. That soft, perfectly layered chestnut brown locks, so effortlessly cool that you just wanted to run your hair through it, tugging at it the more his lips sucked on your clit.
God, the thought had your thighs pressing together uncomfortably. 
“A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be all alone at a party,” he pouted mockingly. “Where’s that boy toy of yours?” He tutted, hand dangerously planted on your back, ghosting over your hips. 
That elicited a giggle out of you, “Didn’t you hear all the rumors, pretty boy?” You leaned further, hand extending to offer him a huff. His attention was somewhere else though, eyes widening the more he admired you in that dress, showing off your curves in all the right way, tits almost busting out of your chest.
God, he had been waiting for this moment, an opportunity to have you, the second he fucking met you. But Billy got to you first.  
“We broke up.” That brought his attention back to you, a smirk played on his lips when he leaned into your hand, lips wrapping around the tip of the joint, he sucked on it but his dark amber eyes remained on you. 
With an inhale, “Good.” He mumbled, “knew that dipshit couldn’t handle someone like you.” 
“You need someone better take care of you…” he hummed, nose dipping closer to your features, “someone who knows how to handle all of this.” His hands were placed on your waist, traveling all over your body. 
Your breath was quick to get caught in your throat, a whine leaving your lips with how forward he was being.
And shit, you understood the appeal, you always did, but this time, you were sure your hunger for him grew faster than you intended to. You were in his palm, and you were more than okay with it. 
“Yeah?” You teased with a giggle, head falling on his shoulder, brain getting fuzzier. 
“I can make you forget him.” He’s bold, and it has your thighs rubbing together.
“By the time I’m done with you, you won’t even remember his name, or how to walk.” He’s so close to your ear, breath fanning against your breath as you almost shudder, but you play it off.
“You’re all talk, Harrington.” You licked your glossy lips, head slightly tilted to the side, teasing him just enough. 
“Oh, sweetheart, I know you’ve heard the rumors, and I know you want this as much as you do.” The cocky bastard licks his lips, and you want nothing more than to bite them.
“Oh, yeah?”
“The way you press your thighs together, that little whine you just did when I barely touched you… Tells me all I need to fuckin’ know.” He whispers, and you almost whine out when a sloppy kiss is planted on your neck, harsh and needy. 
“You’ll be screamin’ and beggin’ for me, angel.”
Your brows raise in interest. “That a promise?”
“Uh-huh.” He gives you a boyish grin.
“You’re on, King Steve.” 
It didn’t take the two of you long enough to find an empty bedroom, lips, and teeth clashing as soon as the door closed.
The wandering eyes of the party had followed you up until that point, so you knew as soon as the two of you left the room with your sexed-up looks, everyone would know.
And you would finally have a sweet release after months of Billy’s selfishness.
A win-win. 
You let his curious hands wander around your body, quick to almost rip off your dress, he wants to savor this moment, wants the image of your body engraved in his mind, stuck into the back of it just so he can fish it out whenever he can.
But he’s impatient, he’s waited for this. Wanted you longer than ever, and finally, you’re putty at his hands, ready to take whatever he’s going to give—or at least that’s what he thinks— And he’s feeling greedy. His mouth is pressed onto yours, sucking on your tongue before he lowers you down on the bed, you giggle softly when you sink into it, and Steve has never felt like this before, the hunger in his eyes ignites a spark of pleasure within you, quick to dampen your thighs with need. 
A shocked gasp escapes your lips once he unhooks your bra with his left hand. Oh, he’s good. “Pretty baby,” he murmurs before his mouth is latched onto your nipples. “Perfect fuckin’ tits,” He groans into your chest, hand toying with your lace panties, shaky breaths escape his lips as he earns more whines from you. 
You look ethereal, with your mouth hung open, teeth biting on your glossed-up lips, head thrown back. Just like he knew you’d be. 
The more he circles around your panties the more you feel that pent-up desire burning inside of you, all those orgasmless months with Billy, and Steve was going to elicit more with just a flick of his fingers than you ever had through the entire relationship. 
Maybe that’s why he always called you a bitch. 
“Steve,” your whines come out pathetically as he looks up at you, layered hair already disheveled and that goddamn smirk sitting on his pretty lips. 
“Already beggin’, honey?” He mocks with a grin, tugging on your nipple, all teeth and no mercy. His tongue is making its way further down, soft, wet strokes tickle your body. 
“Fuck off,” You spit at him, barely, words dying down your throat when he’s quick to rip away your lacy panties. His light honey eyes are so much darker now, head thrown back when he visually drinks in your glistening pussy.  
You look so fucking perfect, thighs spread apart, him between them, mouth hung open and ready to take all of him. He makes a mental image of it, burning it to the back of his mind. 
“C’mon sweetheart, let King Steve know what you want, what you really need.” His voice is smooth and coarse, fingertips circling around your clit harder the more you whine for him.
“Do you need my fingers, baby? My mouth?” You moan at that, audibly. It has him chuckling darkly once he realizes how depraved you really are, one touch from him and you’re already soaking his fingers, whining like a pretty little slut. 
If he knew how much you’d be such a good girl for him, he would’ve done this much sooner. Would’ve ruined your pretty little pussy for anyone else, Billy would’ve had no chance over him. 
“Has that asshole not been makin’ you cum?” It was more of a rhetorical question, but the way you shook your head with a pout, had him melting. He really had you and didn’t know how to take good care of you? What a fucking loser.
“Holy fuckin’ shit… not even with his mouth?” His eyes widened, he really didn’t think Billy would be that bad, everything was working to his advantage. 
“He- uh- he never…” You stammered, getting uncharacteristically embarrassed because it was, truly embarrassing. All those months with him, and half the time you faked it. Selfish prick.
“Never? Oh, baby…” He coos with a dangerous smirk, lip all pouty and mocking, “No wonder you were so desperate for me. You really needed this, huh?” He almost gave a chuckle, caressing your pussy with his middle finger, getting you all ready. 
“Jerk-” You want to curse out his cockiness, tell him you don’t need him. Keep him grounded, but the whines he’s pulling out of you are enough to make him grin like a Cheshire cat. 
Your breath gets shakier when his finger easies into your walls. “Sshh, relax, baby.” He coos. 
“I’ll make you feel so fuckin’ good, doll.” His fingers are slickly working their way in and out of you, filthy sounds mingling with your moans as his nose brushes over your clit, causing your hips to start rocking up to him. 
“Had this pretty little thing, and didn’t even know how to take care of it, hmm? What a waste,” He hummed sweetly, index finger thrusting in and out of your sloppy walls.
“If I had known you’d be this fuckin’ soaked, I would’ve done this much sooner,” he taunts, fingers curling inside of you, enjoying the way you gasp out and buck your hips for more. 
He dives in, pressing the flat of his tongue against your swollen lips, enjoying, fully tasting you. With a satisfied hum, he brings his eyes to meet yours, all fucked out, “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, had this sweet pussy but never even tasted it… What a fuckin’ dumbass… I’ll give you what you deserve, baby…” 
He’s going to explode soon, if he doesn’t make you cum and then fuck you senseless. He can feel his balls draw up more and more, each time you whine, each time you plead for his name as a whisper. 
He flicks the tip meticulously, giving you attention everywhere and anywhere, just like he knew you’d like it. “You know, I usually would never do this on a first date,” He mocks, grinning all mouthy and you attempt to dive his mouth further into you, to shut his arrogant ass up, and that fucker resists, “But god, you’re an exception… just begging to be fucked, you deserve this honey, can’t be selfish with you.”
His licks are heavenly, sucking on your clit like a man possessed, and his name falls from your lips in such a filthy way that you don’t even care how pathetic you look anymore. You accept it, you let him take full control, trashing beneath him. 
“You like that, angel?” His words are muffled into your cunt, the pad of his thumb still circling around your entrance while he sucks on your clit. Your head sinks further into the softness of the bed, eyes squeezed shut, breaking apart with just his tongue. He moans into your soppy walls, sending a shock wave of pleasure to ripple through you. 
He doesn’t even need your words, the visual of you squirming underneath him is enough to have him all bricked up, you taste like the sweetest sin. Velvety walls so tight that it has him bucking his hips into the bed, desperate for some friction, he needs you. And he’s sure he never wanted someone this badly before. 
“So fuckin’ special, aren’t you? Such a desperate baby…” You can feel his bulge against your thigh, sitting prettily and throbbing against his boxers. You always heard how big he was, but fuck, you finally get to feel it, and it’s glorious. 
And he twitched in his boxers just from eating you out? God, he was fucking perfect.  
He dips his head just enough to muffle out a few more words, “I wanna taste you fully, angel. Want you to soak my tongue.” He dives in before you can reply, eliciting dirtier moans from you, alternating between his fingers and his tongue. 
He doesn’t care about anything else but you, he wants you panting for him, cumming all over his tongue while you scream his name. 
Your thighs start to shake once he pushes two fingers inside of you, gentle but rough enough to have you squirming and bucking your hips more into him, you’re at his mercy, and he loves how tight you are. Just the thought of your tight cunt milking his cock dry has his eyes rolling. 
“S-steve,” you breathe out roughly, enjoying how his tongue is licking up that sweet spot. “I know baby,” he taunts all cockily, admiring the way your thighs shake with need. You’re going to cum soon and that prick can feel it. 
“N-need to cum, please,” your pleading is unintentional, you just need a desperate release, and he’s so fucking good. 
“Cum for me, angel, be a good girl for me, yeah?” Your eyes squeeze shut at the praise, and he takes note of that, admiring the way you tighten around his tongue and fingers at the praise. 
His fingers are quick, making you scream out his name louder and louder. “That’s it pretty girl… cum for me.” Arrogant fuck, you wish to say, but the way he laps up your juices has you whining like a little slut. And his smirk grows wider, a wet patch forming on his boxers with how hard he’s straining them, pathetically needing to be inside of you. 
You tremble, trash, squirm beneath him, his touches and stripes of licks finally enough to have your stomach twisting, with final screams of “Steve!” and “F-fuck!” the coil inside of you snaps, orgasm overtaking you with such force that your eyes are glued shut.
A gush of sweetness trickles along Steve’s tastebuds, you taste so fucking good that it drives him even crazier, lapping up at your juices and not stopping until he’s sure you’ve collapsed under him. 
He’s grinning like crazy, lips all glossy with your juices, and he looks so fucking pretty like this. It makes you want to return the favor. 
So badly. And the need to know if the title Big Daddy Steve really suits him or not stirs your stomach, your core pooling with need. If it’s true, your mouth waters with the desire to have him, he looks delicious, and you know he’ll look much more yummy while he’s fucking your mouth, pretty praises leaving his pale rosy lips. 
The avoidant part of you screams at you to not do this, but your core is begging for more. 
Maybe, just maybe, you could return the favor but still toy with him, take control, and mess with his mind. 
Enough to have him begging, pleading for more from you. 
As if he can hear your dilemma, he drags you back in, wrapping his fist around your hair as he pulls you toward him and draws your bottom lip into his mouth, all teeth, sucking with an exaggerated hum, “Do you like the way you taste on my tongue?” He mutters against your ear, licking a stripe of your neck. 
Jesus, fuck. Now, you had to return the favor. 
“Tastes so sweet,” you giggle, you are going to suck him off, but you are going to lead the way now. A smirk gleams on your lips. Teasingly, your hands trace the edge of his boxers, enough to earn a rude whine from him as you squeeze him through the harsh fabric. 
You’re quick to yank his shirt off of him without a warning, and he’s quick to flaunt his well-muscled, heaving chest. 
Asshole. 
With a strong flip, you manage to straddle him, taking him by surprise while you grin at him, and to say Steve is intrigued would be an understatement, his cock twitches at your brow raise. “What are you doing, baby?” He still manages to be so cool that your thighs ache. 
“Returning the favor,” you shrug with a smirk, eliciting low grumbles from him when you lower yourself on his chest, leaving sloppy kisses, mouth tracing a trail that leads to his delicious v-line. 
You lift the elastic away from his waist, freeing his throbbing tip, the red tip slaps against his abdomen, and your brows pinch together in astonishment admiring it. 
Jesus fucking Christ, he was not all talk. 
King Steve, indeed.
You had to hand it down to those gossipy cheerleaders, they had described him to a t, perfect girth, slightly bent to the left, and big, really fucking big, you probably needed to use your hands along with your glossed lips to take all of him in. 
He chuckled at your expression, basking in the glory of your widened eyes, “Like what you see, angel?” Another taunt, but you ignore it with a smirk this time. Pooling saliva in your mouth, you spit on the angry tip, Steve hisses at the impact and watches with a low grumble once you wrap your palm around his shaft. 
He reveled in how perfectly your soft manicured fingers looked around his delicate bubblegum pink tip, attending to his every need.
Your warm fingers are working their way around his cock, coating his length with your spit as you tugged at it gently, causing his eyes to nearly roll back in his head.
He tries his best to swallow his groans, but his hips desperately jerk up at your hand, desperately fucking it, rendering you speechless.
“You like that, baby?” Your tone was teasing, and if he didn’t feel like he was about to explode he would’ve gripped your hair and fucked your mouth with such roughness that all that you would be thinking about would be his huge cock, punishing you for being such a tease, but he was the one wrapped around your finger now, literally.  
“S’big, Stevie,” you coyly batted your lashes at him, and a shuddered breath left your parted lips as you looked up at him between his thighs. 
He almost wept at the sight, shit shit shit, you were all of his dreams wrapped into one, and he could barely speak. Your palm easily glided down his length, saliva working as a lubricant as you teased him further. 
Your other palm was quick to cup his balls, massaging them and giving them a gentle tug, while your other hand still glided down his length, enjoying the way he struggled not to let out loud groans in your hold.
Without any other word, your head tilted down, quick to mouth the tip of his intense tip, it was almost hot to touch, waiting to be attended to, so needy. Just like him.
You swipe his tip, collecting his pearl of pre-cum gently. “Jesus f-fuck!” Pathetic coarse whines leave his parted lips, he lets you take control, eyes clenched tightly. 
You give his tip more kitten licks, trying to get your throat ready for his lengthy cock. “Just like that, honey,” He praises with his head thrown back, he avoids looking into your eyes, knowing that the fucked out look on your face as your pouty lips wrapped around his cock would be enough to have him spill down your throat in seconds.
And it would be a bit embarrassing for Steve, to lose his reputation to you in a matter of seconds.
“More…” He demands, but you ignore it while you continue your teasing sweet flicks on his tip, feeling him twitch around your tongue.  “Pretty girl,” He whines and jolts his pelvis for more, desperate and needy. Just where you want him.
“Mhmm?” You whine with your mouth full, it sends a rush of pleasure through him, “Suck it, baby,” he whines again, this time pained with need. Your greedy eyes smile up at him and he’s sure you have done something to him.
Because he never wanted to cum this bad before. He wants to wipe that smirk off your face while you gag on his cum, struggling to swallow all of it as it spills down your cheeks, glistening your breasts, ruining that gloss forever, and instead, you walk around with his semen all over your face and lips.
It pulls a twisted groan out of him, you make him feel so perverted and he can’t fucking help himself. You finally accept his pleas, and with one glorious tug, you finally wrap your lips around his cock, fully, getting teary-eyed each time you try to take more of his flesh.
Steve can’t help himself, his head is dipped down, and he immediately feels his balls ache at the visual of you, crystal tears staining your cheeks, and even then, that lewd look did not leave your eyes.
“F-fucking slut, just like that,” His groans are uncontrollable, hips bucking further into your mouth. You don’t let him yank you by your hair, just yet. You let your mouth adjust to him, sucking him deep and tight. 
“Such a good girl, suckin’ my cock with all she has, mmpf.” His praise has your core clenching, damn him. 
He admires your pouty lips fully wrapped around his flesh, sucking and hollowing your cheeks as you wail for him, “Shit, shit, baby, l-look so pretty with my cock down your throat, mmhmm…” He coos, words incoherent.
“Will look even prettier with my cum shooting down that throat, isn’t that right, angel?” You hummed in agreement, looking up at him with your dark, hooded gaze, an unintentional grin playing on your lips.
He mumbled a string of curses, praising you, worshipping you. You continued your stroke on his base harshly, working the head with your tongue, a new angle that had him go absolutely insane. 
“Mmmhmm, need your cum, Stevie.” You mumbled, momentarily letting your hand do all the work before you dove back in, taking his stiff cock deep in your throat, he had been struggling before, but your words were his last straw.
Because it was exactly what he fucking wanted, owning your mouth, and fucking it with ease. 
His palm turned into a fist the second he held your hair, yanking it down as he pushed you further down on his cock, enjoying the way it hit the back of your throat, you gagged around it, all teary and Steve’s head fell back in pure ecstasy. “Y-yes, yes, fuck!” 
“Gonna cum, baby, mmmpf, god-” He panted, his cock twitching more and more you sucked on him.
“Gonna fuckin’ s-shit-” He shuddered, thighs shaking while your throat continued to squeeze the tip of his cock, and once you gave his balls some more attention, he knew he was a goner. 
“Fuckin’ give i-it to you,” He barely let out when his eyes glued shut together, almost rolling to the back of his head when you gagged around his cock, with a glorious groan of “Fuuuuuck!” Steve came in your mouth, hips still bucking into your throat as a spurt of his warm load spilled down your throat, coating it nicely. 
You only let go of his softened cock with a ‘pop!’ sound once you made sure you sucked him dry, swallowing all of it while Steve watched you with such a dazzled look that it almost made you want to do more with him. But, no. This had been enough.
You enjoyed his salty taste in your mouth and the way his fingers and mouth worked inside of you. And that was enough for you. For now.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” He grumbled a chuckle that had you grinning and winking at him. God, men really were easy. One blowjob and Steve was already looking at you like you were the most precious thing in his life. 
You had to go easy on him, tell him that you weren’t going to let him fuck you.
Because you got what you wanted, an orgasm, and the reputation of fucking “King Steve”, everyone would be gossiping about the two of you by now, it was a matter of time before that douchebag found out.
He tried to pull you in for a kiss, but you were quick to dodge it, getting up from the softness of the bed with a groan while Steve curiously eyed you. 
His brows were quick to pinch together, watching the way you easily slipped your tight dress on your body while you admired yourself in the mirror. Rubbing your lips together to fix your gloss, fingertips cleaning over the smeared mascara running down your cheeks.
“W-what are you doing?” He inquired, his face quick to fall down. 
You shrugged nonchalantly, “I want to go dance,” brows then raised in excitement “Ooohh! Maybe I could get some more weed, have you seen Munson around?” You questioned, that lustful look still dancing in your eyes.
“Uhhh…” he stammered, still confused on what the fuck just happened. “Y-yeah I think-”
“Thank fuckin’ god!” You hummed with a giggle, rushing over to his side, sloppily planting a kiss on his cheek, all shiny and smeared with his juices.
You were halfway through the door when Steve’s protests stopped you. “Wait, wait, wait!” He straightened up, softened cock and all, his glistening chest was begging to be touched, but as you decided, not today.
“What the fuck? I thought-”
“What?” You asked cluelessly, brows raised. 
“We were just getting started, angel,” He tried, but his voice wasn’t as arrogant or confident as it was before, and it took you so much to not let your lips twitch into a smirk. 
One orgasm and he was already broken? Steve was fun to play with it.  
Your giggle at him would’ve felt mocking if you didn’t do it so prettily, Steve just watched in awe. 
The poor boy. 
“You didn’t think it would be that easy, would you?” You tilted your head with a pout. Oh, you were good, he had to give you that.
Because once he literally got a taste of you, he wasn’t going to stop. 
His lips kissed his teeth, it was surely hypocritical of him to think this was unfair since that’s what he always did to other girls. 
“But–”
“See you around, pretty boy,” you cooed, throwing a wink toward his way, and shutting the door with that. Leaving Steve all alone. 
He had never felt this way before. The way his cock twitched just the thought of you again had his mind flooding, you used him, gave him the best fucking head of his life, and then left. 
Maybe this game would’ve pissed him off if someone else did it to him, if it was any other girl he would’ve lost interest, thinking she was trying too fucking hard, but it was you.
And all it did was drive Steve crazier, and make the chase all the more fun, and Steve was nothing, if not persuasive. 
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vendettaparker · 4 months
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I want Stevie to make me a needy little mess kissing everywhere on my tummy and thighs while purposely avoiding where I need him most
now why would loverboy be such a tease to his favourite person? maybe if they had done something to deserve it…. this one goes out to @boyfriendstevie for indulging my goofy ideas <3 while it’s technically smut it’s like… only hot if u find love hot HAHA fem!reader MDNI this entire blog is 18+
The radio sings idly behind you, midway between the kitchen and the lounge, and when you hear the fridge door close, you think nothing of it.
The novel in your hands has your attention, your body lax as you lay spread lazily across the couch. Your shoes are off and your jean shorts unbuttoned, your bra abandoned many hours ago; a picture of a well-spent Sunday afternoon.
“Someone’s awfully comfortable.”
Steve’s voice sounds from above you and you pull your eyes from the page before you to look up. He’s standing behind the couch, arms crossed, his expression… unreadable.
“Mmhm.” You hum with a happy smile. Laid back, you raise one of your legs and give his arm a poke with your toe. “Wanna come join?”
Steve smiles lightly, rounding the couch til he’s at the end of it. His hairy thighs lean up against the arm of the couch and he hums thoughtfully. “I dunno, I was gonna eat.”
A dirty thought crosses your mind. You laugh and part your thighs just an inch, insinuating just exactly what he should eat.
“Oh?” You say.
Steve catches on quick. His eyebrows hike up and he rolls his eyes, his endeared smile giving him away.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He asks, even as he moves forward to kneel on the cushions— his hands finding a place around each of your ankles. Your tummy burns as you realise he might be serious.
“I wouldn’t complain,” you quip back with a cheeky smile. Steve’s hands on your ankles shift up, smoothing up your calves with such evident adoration it makes your blood sing.
“Wouldn’t complain, she says,” Steve echoes your words with a mock-contemplation, pretending to ponder as his thumbs rub softly at the skin of your thighs. “Anyone ever call you a princess?”
He asks while his hands keep travelling up, his fingers tucking into your unbuttoned denim. Your hips lift as he pulls, letting them slide down your legs and be discarded to the floor.
Steve’s got an intense look in his eyes now, his flicking between your face and your barely clothed core. You feel yourself grow more excited.
“Mhm,” You answer his question, your breath hitching as Steve’s hands land back on your knees— sliding them down your thighs and drawing a line with his thumb right along the sensitive inner parts. “My boyfriend, actually.”
“Your boyfriend, huh?”
He bends down between his words to kiss one of your knees. You sigh, the novel in your hands pushed to the ground and forgotten completely. You hear it land with a clutter. Steve’s huge hands are still moving, still massaging up and down your thighs— til they creep higher.
“Tell me about him, this boyfriend.” Steve muses, beginning to smile. His hands ruck your shirt higher and higher, the callouses on his hands the perfect friction against your nipples. He gives them a good pinch and you gasp, your back arching into his touch.
“Uh huh…” you start, entirely distracted by how his lips have started to trail kisses down your thighs. Just a few touches in the right place and he’s got you soaking the cotton of your panties. You might be embarrassed if you weren’t so turned on.
“Well, he’s prob— probably the hottest guy in Hawkins.” Your voice skips as his mouth starts to reach the V of your thigh. His plush lips start to suckle, a dart of his tongue soothing over you as he sucks a hickey into the soft skin of your inner thigh.
His mouth pulls off abruptly. “Wait, probably?”
“Definitely.” You quickly amend. Steve melts into a smug grin, diving back down to continue his hickey as you let yourself sweet talk him. “Definitely 100% the hottest dude in town. Most attractive in the st—state, if you ask me.”
Steve hums against you appreciatively, switching his focus from one thigh to the other. You can feel your legs beginning to twitch, feel yourself clenching around nothing in pure anticipation. Steve nips and soothes at your thigh, his hands still roaming, still squeezing and pinching at your nipples enough to make you sigh sweetly.
When he finally moves from your thigh, it’s only a moment of relief before you realise he’s moving up to kiss at your tummy.
“Go on,” He urges you, eyes flashing up to meet yours with a grin. He knows you’ve caught onto his teasing now and despite how it makes your skin flutter, his kisses, the languid press of his mouth, all are just so so close to where you want him. But not close enough.
“He’s also,” You huff, all breathy now. You can feel how wet you are for him— can already envision how good it’ll feel when he gets his mouth on you. If he ever gets his mouth on you. “The biggest tease in the world.”
Steve pulls back from his motions with a pout. He’s still kneeling on the couch, your legs parted around him and at your words, his hands slide down to rest on your hipbones. His thumbs swatch up at down your panty line, teasing and tantalising. You squirm.
“Ughhhhh, why are you being a tease right now?” You ask, slumping back on the couch with a half a mind to stick your own hand down between your legs.
Steve’s hand gently touches your chin, pressing it lightly so you tilt your head forward to look him in the eye when he says, “Because you ate my pickle.”
You blink at him owlishly for a moment, his words throwing you for a loop. Then a laugh titters out your mouth and you cover it with your hand.
“Oh my god, I totally did.” You giggle, half at your lousy memory for stealing Steve’s final pickle from the him — and half because he’s actually petty enough to bring it back up during sex. “I’m so sorry.”
Steve tilts his head and narrows his eyes. “Are you? I don’t think you are.”
You laugh again, head thrown back and then nod as best you can. “I am! I’m sorry I ate your pickle, baby.”
Steve’s faux-bitchiness melts away and he pouts for a moment. “You know, I was looking forward to that.”
He jabs your thigh playfully and you can’t help but laugh again. Steve stares at you unabashedly— something hot in his chest at this mixture of laughter and pleasure and a silly little bicker over a pickle.
“I can offer only one consolation,” you say, laughter now gone as you peer up at him through your lashes.
When you know you’ve got him hooked in, you nudge your thighs up and spread them a little further. You watch as Steve shivers, his eyes fluttering closed for just a moment.
He shifts on his knees, one hand pressing into his shorts which have become tighter and tighter. When he gathers himself, there’s a new fire in his eyes — fixed on his next meal.
“Well, best get rid of these then, huh?” He murmurs, his fingers finally pinching at your panties and moving to tug them down your legs. You shuffle to let him, the heat pooling in your stomach as he tucks them into his back pocket without a second thought.
This time when his mouth kisses its way down your thigh, Steve can barely wait — skipping past his previous hickies to lick through your folds with eagerly. You gasp and moan, hips squirming up to meet his mouth and Steve takes it all gratefully — more than content to spend his Sunday afternoon with his tongue between your thighs.
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vendettaparker · 4 months
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steve harrington x virgin!reader
Started writing something about a former nerdy/loser reader taking a job at a summer camp and running into the former king of her former high-school. But the only part I liked was this piece of smut, so here we are.
warnings: bigdick!steve has entered the chat, fingering, oral (fem receiving), first time piv (technically unprotected, cos I didn’t describe the condom, but he's wearing one and so should you.) 18+ MDNI
minimum age of both characters is college-ish, but I would encourage you to imagine them up to as high an age as you like 'cos there's no such thing as “too old” to be a virgin.
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“Just, ah…” You winced slightly as his head pressed at your entrance. “Go slow?”
Steve paused, heavy lidded eyes coming up to meet yours. “Wait, are you a…have you never?” The reality of your virginity dawned on him and you tried to refocus his attention. 
“It’s fine, Steve,” you told him, squirming slightly in his arms. “Don’t worry about it.”
The pressure of his length pressing on your core rescinds as he pulls away and you can’t help the petulant sight that falls out of your chest.
Figures, you thought bitterly.
But Steve kept his mouth close. He littered your jaw and neck with kisses, his hands kneading your waist as he kneeled slowly and his lips continued their journey downwards. He wove a serpentine pattern across your chest, over the swell of your breasts, briefly sucking one nipple into his hot mouth while he rolled the other between his thumb and forefinger. You sighed pleasurably at the feeling and vibrations rippled across you as he hummed around your peaked bud before pulling off with a lewd pop. His eyes watched for your reaction, dark and hungry as he kissed down your sternum and carefully spread your legs further to make space for him.
“Steve, wh-what are you—”
“Just want you to be ready,” he murmured, lips skimming over your navel. “Don’t want it to hurt.”
He brought his fingers to your entrance, lazily circling it with them, swirling lightly all around it, brushing your inner thighs as he did. You closed your eyes and tipped back your head, losing yourself in the sensations of Steve’s slow, gradual build.
He kissed tentatively at the apex of your thighs, nose pressing into your mound, and internally you cringed at the thought of what you must look like down there. You couldn’t very well shave regularly when you were sharing the showers with twenty other counselors and could count on maybe a solid six minutes of hot water. And in a million years you wouldn’t have been able to anticipate this. So you almost certainly weren’t living up to King Steve’s standards.
Steve said nothing, though. If anything, he buried his face further in the thick down of your hair, inhaling your scent like it was his dying breath. The wet heat of his tongue surprised you as he licked a fat stripe through your folds and actually moaned, the sound deep and rumbly in his chest.
“Fuck,” he whispered, soft and reverent as a prayer. “You taste like…summer.”
His grip tightened on your thighs, tugging you closer, smothering his face in your center, licking and sucking at you eagerly, ravenously. His tongue chased off any glimmer of insecurity you might have felt, his enthusiasm evident in the slurping and sucking noises that fill the room.
A tingling feeling licks its way up your body, making your cheeks and chest and ears burn hot. Your hands flexed, needing something to hold onto for fear you’ll float away untethered into the ether. With one, you palmed at your breast, missing how it had felt when Steve squeezed them over your staff shirt. The other found its way to twist itself into floppy, caramel-tinged tresses.
“You can pull it if you want,” he teased, the words muffled by your cunt. “I can take it.”
He moaned instantly at the sharp tug you gave, dragging his face against your heat so his nose stroked your clit as you rolled your hips forcefully forward. It surprises you as much as it does him.
“Oh, fuck yeah,” he growled. “That’s right, baby, ride my face. Make me make you come.”
You rolled your hips again, desperately chasing an end you couldn’t even see you were so lost in the forest of your feelings. Steve lips sealed around your clit, sucking it with intention as he brought his fingers back up. At last, he breached your entrance, slipping one in easily and following it close with a second that made you writhe at the gentle stretch. 
The pumped in and out of you at a pace just slow enough to be torture, curling upwards and toying with that sacred spot inside you that had you gushing around his fingers. You’re barely conscious as waves of pleasure rush across you, chest shuddering with your moans as you grip at him desperately. His tongue soothes your swollen flesh as he coaxes you through your orgasm, helping you ride it out to the very last second.
In more ways than one, you’re grateful for the warm-up when Steve stood between your legs and brought the head of his cock back to your entrance. Is it at all possible he’s gotten bigger? 
He glided it through your folds once, twice, three times, letting the ridges of it catch on your clit and making you keen with each too-brief pass. He held it at the base and lifted it slightly, only to let it drop and slap heavy against your dripping pussy. A dark chuckle fell from his lips at the way your eyes bulged and you gasped at the feeling, not ready for the impact. 
And then, in the kind of contrast that rivaled Jekyll and Hyde, he leaned over you and spoke sweetly in your ear as he aligned himself with you.
“Are you ready?” he asked. 
You nodded, too choked up to answer, pinching your eyes closed and bracing yourself to finally feel him. It doesn’t happen, though. He leaned further over, a hand coming up to cup the side of your face as he lowered his voice to a whisper.
“Hey…look at me.” 
Your eyes flew open to find his face hovering just inches over yours. The tip of his nose brushed your own and you could practically count his long, dark lashes that fanned around his mossy eyes that were almost black in the dim light. His long hair fell forward, the ends of it tickling your face before he pushed it back with his hand. The moles and freckles that dusted his tanned skin were more numerous than the stars in the sky you could see through his cabin’s windows.
“If you want this, you need to tell me so.”
His voice is firm, unyielding, but it’s not mean. Truly, you believed if you were to push him away and tell him you’d changed your mind, he would just tuck himself back into his shorts and be on his way. Except you wouldn’t ever do that. Because, fuck did you want him so bad.
“I want it,” you whispered. “I want you.”
It’s all the invitation he needs. 
The feeling of him finally pressing inside is intense, but not so overwhelming that it makes you whine or want to cry out. He goes slow, stretching you methodically as you take him inch by inch. And each time you think he must be buried to the hilt by now, you find there’s another stretch, another inch he can push inside. It has your chest heaving with each one.
“Too much?” he asked as his gaze flicked down to study your face.
“N-no,” you lied, legs shaking from the effort of holding them open. 
As though reading your mind, Steve gripped behind your knees and pushed your thighs up towards your chest, holding them there for you. The new angle gives him enough purchase to push in deeper still, making your back arch and your breath punch out in relief.
“We’re so close, baby,” he huffed, hair falling forward again, dusting his brow that’s damp with sweat in the sticky, humid air. “You’re taking me so well, fucking sucking me in.” 
With his words, you can almost feel your walls trying to engulf him. They burn from that last blissful stretch until he’s seated fully inside, his pelvis grinding against yours. The fullness you feel is exquisite. By all accounts, it shouldn’t work. It shouldn’t fit. It shouldn’t feel so right. 
You pictured him pressing on your other organs; twisting up your insides; the way he’ll demolish you as soon as he starts moving. Just the thought has you growing wetter by the second.
“Shit, look at you,” he chuckled, staring down at where your bodies meet, almost in awe. “Can’t fucking believe it…”
If you were being honest, neither could you. Part of you is afraid to breathe, afraid one wrong move will rupture something. But maybe even moreso, you’re dying to find out if it will. 
“Okay, Harrington,” you sighed, shooting him a challenging smirk. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
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thank you for reading - love you, mean it! ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ
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vendettaparker · 4 months
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oh my goodness HIIII!! how have you been?? how are classes going?? OMG WHATS UR KITTENS NAME
HI! classes are good! i’m working full time as a social media manager for a retail store and i’m also taking medical coding and billing classes on the side… so yknow, ya girls busy 💅
but after almost two years out of school, it feels so good to get back into studying and learning.
this is my kitty, his name is egg! he’s my special little grumpy boy 🥰 but fr i got super lucky. he’s very sweet, cuddly, and smart. he was already litter box trained so i didn’t have to worry about the smell of cat pee on my carpets lol. and the only time he’s mad at me is when i don’t let him tear up my socks 💀
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vendettaparker · 4 months
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hello hello!! It’s been SO long I just wanted to stop in and say hi! I hope you’re doing well 💕
HI! thanks for checking in! i am doing super well right now actually. this passed year i’ve been pretty MIA (sorry!) due to some life changes (moving to my own apartment, starting classes, adopting a kitten!, etc.) but i’ve also just been taking the year to heal from what happened to me last year and move on.
i would love to come back to writing (and i absolutely plan to!) but bear with me. it might be a slow process. ofc i still love coming on here to read what my mutuals post and show my love and support to them!
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vendettaparker · 5 months
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this series is actually my whole life rn
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CRIMSON AND CLOVER: CHAPTER TWO
“There is no shame in running.”
▸ summary:winter brings the holidays, vacations, and new worries ▸ characters:  robin buckley, eddie munson, & steve harrington 💕 (ft. dustybuns) ▸ word count: 10.2k         ▸ warnings: SMUT (18+MINORS DNI) unprotected p&v smut, angst, & fluff ▸ series masterlist
Keep reading
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vendettaparker · 9 months
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it’s my birthday :D
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vendettaparker · 10 months
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@asumofwords to sum up aemond and visenya’s fights in sf&a
i hope you all know aemond is cartman
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vendettaparker · 10 months
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two chapters only hours apart??! you keep us fed 😩
Smoke, Fire and Ash
Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.
This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.
Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)
Masterlist
Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.
Note: Another chapter because I am desperate for you to get up to a certain little chapter I've written which I know you will all enjoy heheh <3
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Chapter 60: A Second Son and his Wife
Aemond returned later that evening, finding you sitting exactly where you had been, not moving from your spot, hand still pressed tightly against your mouth to trap the scream which threatened to fly from your lips as you stared at the grain of the wooden table. 
The tears that had fallen down your face had dried, and the hiccupping sobs that had left your lips had steadied. You breathed numbly, swallowed by the emptiness around you until Aemond moved around the table, greeting you.
“Wife.”
You brought yourself back to the room, taking your hand away from your mouth finally as you moved to look up at him, straightening yourself in your seat as he crossed the room. He placed the book he had handed you in the library down onto a side table amongst the other pile that had accumulated there. 
When he came back to you, he reached into the side of his coat. You flinched at the movement, fearing he may pull out his dagger like he had drawn on you before. Your uncle saw your reaction and slowed his hand, pulling a scroll of parchment out from within the coat, wordlessly holding it out towards you with a steady hand. 
In his hand was a rolled piece of parchment. A black three headed dragon wax stamp looking at you on top. 
A letter from your family. 
You reached out to grasp it from his grip, holding it down at the table as you looked at the waxy seal. The seal was completely in tact, holding the scroll tightly together. It had not been broken this time. It had not been read yet. 
Why had they not read it yet?
You let your finger brush against the wax seal, feeling the smooth, hard edges of the wax, and the raised ridges of where your House sigil had been pressed down into it.
“We shall dine here this evening.” Aemond told you, moving to the chamber doors to summon the maids.
You did not take your eyes away from the parchment in your hand. 
What have they said?
What if something bad had happened?
What if someone had passed?
You stood up from your chair, taking the letter with you as you walked towards the window next to the fireplace to get more light. Your fingers shook as your nail pulled under the seal, cautious as to not rip it like the last letter had.
You wished to keep the wax intact. 
Soon the seal was pulled away from the paper, and you began to unroll it gently, looking at the slopes of your mothers writing. Far more feminine and neater than your fathers, with more careful attention spent to the precision of each letter. No brash writing, written in turmoil or haste. 
A letter that had been written with great thought before hand. 
A letter that was written entirely in High Valyrian.
'Y/n,
Dragonstone has grown quiet without your presence here. 
It is strange here without you, to have someone absent, yet within reach. 
I mourn your absence. I mourn you amongst my losses, and I fear some days that perhaps I have lost you after all. Did you truly return to me that day?’
A tear fell from your eyes as you continued to read on.
‘Jacaerys and Baela are to be wed soon. It will be held here on Dragonstone, in the tradition of our House. I hope that you may be able to attend. Perhaps Aemond may escort you? 
Rhaena has gone back to Driftmark with Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys, though she has promised to visit soon.
You will be proud to know that Joffrey has been bonding with Tyraxes well. I feel that he has the same gift that you and your father have. 
Nothing that I do will ever atone for the mistakes I have made. The fate I have signed you to. Nothing shall ever atone for sending you and your brother to Storms End. Nor do I ever expect to be forgiven for such sins. 
I can only pray to the Gods that one day, you will understand. 
Daemon misses you terribly, more than you could ever imagine, just as I do. 
You were right when you told me that you could never be a son.’
Your breath hitched in your throat, as tears began to drip down your cheeks steadily, just missing the parchment in your shaking hands. 
‘Because you are my daughter, and that is more special to me than all the realm. 
Star Fruit has come in barrels to Dragonstone, and I fear that we shall never be able to finish them all without you here. 
Write to tell me if you need them sent to you.
We eagerly await your response.
-Queen Rhaenyra, First of her name, Queen of the Andals, Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.’
A shake smile rose on your lips as you looked at the sign off. 
Queen. 
Your Queen. 
Your mother. 
Gods you missed her. 
Behind you the maids had begun to set the table as you read, bringing in your supper for you and Aemond, placing it on the table as your uncle sat on one end, waiting patiently for you to join him. You brushed the tears that had fallen from your cheeks and moved to sit on the opposite end of the table, placing the letter down gently beside you. 
Aemond’s hands came up on the table, holding each other in front of him. He closed his eyes and bowed his head and you looked on in confusion as the man began a whispered yet short lived prayer.
You had thought that perhaps he only prayed in the presence of his mother.
You did not join him, and instead looked at the way his face calmed, eye closed, with the sapphire orb on display.
His violet eye shot open as he looked at you from beneath his lashes and you felt your breath hitch in your chest. Aemond relaxed his hands, and reached across the table to begin serving himself from the large plates in front of the both of you. You followed his movement, slowly moving to serve a plate your own. 
It was the first time you had eaten together alone. 
You ate together in silence, the sound of cutlery upon your silver plates clinking in the space, as well as the familiar crackling of the fire in the foreground. Aemond ate daintily, watching you chew your food and sipping his wine intermittently.
It irritated you.
“I had time to think of my answer.” He finally broke the silence, placing his goblet down on the table with a soft clunk, eye on your face as you mirrored him. 
“I ask for Meleys’ guidance now.”
Goddess of love and fertility.
You frowned looking at him. 
Love and fertility. 
Did he pray for your love? 
For his seed to take within you?
For you to slowly swell with his child?
A shiver ran down your spine. You reached out again to grasp your goblet drinking the wine heavily. Perhaps the wine would prevent his seed from growing within you. As you placed the empty goblet back down, the ever dutiful man he was reached over to refill your cup. Your eye flicked to the letter beside it. 
Aemond followed your line of sight. 
“May I?” He asked.
“No.”
Aemond hummed before his hand shot across the table, snatching the letter from beside you quicker than you could have reacted. 
“Don’t.” You growled as he held it in front of him, his eye roaming over the letter rapidly, face blank. 
“Se vējes ziry bardutan syt ao.” The fate she signed you to, He read aloud. 
It felt so invasive for him to read such a letter. Such an invasion of your privacy. A letter written just for you, only for his eye to defile. 
It made you sick. 
“Aemond, ȳdra daor.” Don’t.
His eye left the parchment and went back to you, passing the letter back over the table towards you. You reached out to grab it but he snatched it back towards him, teasing you. Rage bubbled inside of you.
This was all a game to him. 
All of this. 
Every single moment of your suffering was fun for him.
“Tepagon ziry arlī.” Give it back, You growled.
Aemond held out the parchment to you again and you snatched it from his hand, placing it in your lap, out of his reach.
“Jacaerys is to be wed soon.” He mused.
You held his gaze. 
“My nephew is growing into a fine man.” He hummed.
Your hands balled into fists in your lap, fingernails digging harshly into your palms as you fought to not respond to his prodding. You waited with bated breath for him to call your brother a bastard.
“You may go to the union on Dragonstone, if you wish.”
Your hands loosened in your lap as you looked at him with furrowed brows.
He would let you go home?
“I would, of course, have to accompany you.”
There it was. 
“Though I feel I may not be welcomed to such a fine union. My uncle could scarcely keep his hand from the pommel of Dark Sister when we were wed.” He paused in thought, sipping from his goblet, “Baela and Jacaerys are a fine match. A strong girl for a Strong boy.”
You had anticipated it, and when it had broke forth from his lips you found that the comment irritated you more than it offended you. After all this time, the same taunt had grown familiar. Like the sharpness of its blade had grown dull with each strike. It did not hold the same bite that it used to.
But even still, it irked you. 
If he wanted to be cruel, you could be cruel. 
“Careful Aemond,” You began leaning back in your seat, “Jacaerys is Queen Rhaenyra’s successor. He is to be King someday.”
“I know no King, but Aegon.” He said smoothly. 
“The opinion of a second son does not weigh heavily on matters of the realm.” You smiled at him meanly.
Aemond hummed, leaning back in his seat as he watched you.
“The opinion of a woman married to a second son, even less so.” He quipped back. 
“No matter what you do, you will have no claim to the throne.” You began, “Aegon’s son will have that before you do. You have nothing. No land to claim, no hold to move to. My brothers will have Driftmark and spend their days at Dragonstone. All that you have to show for it,” You leant forward, sneering at him, “Is a wife who resents you, a dead sister and brother, and the knowledge that you will continue to live in your drunken brothers shadow, who has no interest in the throne, but instead the interest of warming his cock in any hole he sees fit.”
Aemond’s lip twitched as he looked at you. 
“All those years you wasted, Aem.” The nickname made him scowl, “Years you spent studying the sword and politics, war and history, preparing yourself for the throne, knowing that you would never have it."
A smile widened on your face, "Skoverdi hūra gōntan ao force aōla naejot gūrēñagon Valyrio Eglie mērī?”
How many moons did you force yourself to learn High Valyrian alone?
You watched as Aemond twitched, and delight shot through you.
“Your Hightower cunt mother has no knowledge of our native tongue. Did you spend hours alone in the Keep in my absence talking to yourself? Desperate to prove yourself to Viserys, or your mother, that you were a worthy Prince? Did you think that they would see you as a better fit than your brother?” You laughed.
Aemond shot from his chair rising, and you felt a bloom of satisfaction knowing that you finally had him. 
Aegon sitting on the throne was a sore spot for his brother. 
You leant back in your chair as he looked down at you, anger simmering beneath the surface, just barely contained. Both of your fires bouncing off of each other, stoking the flames. 
Smiling at him sadly you shook your head, rising to join him, standing on opposite ends of the table. 
A duel of fire. 
The blood of the dragon flowing thickly between the two of you.
You needed to not forget why you were here.
But you remembered.
You had never forgot.
“How did it feel, kepus?”
His lip twitched.
You stepped away from the table, coming to stand at its side in the middle, looking up at him as you watched his chest rise and fall, the pupil of his eye expanding until there was nothing but black. 
“When your mother seated Aegon on the Iron Throne, and not you?” You finished, looking at him pitifully. 
Aemond stormed you, snatching your throat tightly in his grip as he looked down at you. Air not entering your lungs as you continued to look up at him, not backing down. 
“And what of you? First born to the heir who rules half the realms. Traded as a means to end a war? What does that make you, hm?” He spat, his breath fanning over your face. 
It made you ache, but not in the way he had wanted. 
You wheezed, opening your mouth to croakily speak, smiling up at him. 
“Your wife.”
His hand faltered around your neck, loosening so that you could breathe, sucking in a sharp breath as you stayed still in his hold, the scent of leather and sandalwood surrounding you. His face came closer to yours and your heart thumped in your chest. 
Aemond pulled you forward to him with the grip on your neck, fingers tightening again as he let out a low growl. His eye searched yours, flicking back and forth as he sneered at you, until he shoved you back by your neck, causing you to stumble backwards.
Aemond turned and stalked around the table past you, his clothes brushing against you as he swept out the door, the heavy wood slamming shut behind him.
A sigh of relief fell from your lips as you stood. 
Your hand came to press at your neck where he had held you, heat from the grip radiating from the skin as a bruise would no doubt settle there. The longer you stood touching your tender flesh, looking at the doors where he had left, the more you felt triumph bubble up inside of you until a small smile lifted onto your lips, and a huff of a laugh broke into the silence of the chambers. 
You had won. 
A small, pitiful battle of wit and spite, and for once you had come out on top. 
You had waited at the table in anticipation for Aemond to turn back on his heel, to storm down the corridor and swing open the door. To return to your shared chambers and hurt you. To force himself into you dryly, and painfully.
For him to hit you, or throw you to the floor.
But he never returned. 
And so you had slipped into your bedclothes, and under the sheets, exhausted from the day and fell asleep with the knowledge that you could hurt him. And that you could win. That this was not all for naught.
And you had a chance.
Aemond never returned to the chambers that night.
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Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3
Tag List:
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Bold is who I cannot tag!
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vendettaparker · 11 months
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i live for these daily updates🩷🩷
also can i just say AHHHHHHHHHHHHSHSBEHWHWHWWHWHWHWH
AEMOND NO. BAD AEMOND. WE ASK FOR CONSENT IN THIS HOUSE.
Smoke, Fire and Ash
Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st, forced orgasm, cockwarming, somnophilia. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.
This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.
Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)
Masterlist
Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.
Note: I just want to keep giving you all new chapters daily, hahaha its so hard to not especially when I have a chapter ready to go ! The reader deserves a little treat too <3 Enjoy
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Chapter 58: Misfortune
The doors to the Kings chambers shut heavily behind you, and you did not slow your pace as you stormed back to your shared chambers. You could feel Aemond following you slowly behind, not racing to catch up with you as he watched you storm ahead, anger rolling from you in waves.
He called your name gently to you, almost in exacerbation, but your pace did not falter as you kept on, your strides quick and long until you reached the chambers. Your own hands pushing the doors open, not waiting for the knight as you stormed into the room. 
The doors crashed loudly against the walls behind as you moved straight to the far wall, filling a goblet with wine before drinking it, pacing in front of the fire angrily as you desperately tried to school your anger. 
‘Dracarys.’  Lucerys’ voice whispered in your head.
You let out a shaken breath, listening to the chamber doors shut behind you as you stopped to stare into the fire, watching the flames. Your chest rose and fell and the anger that you felt boiled you from within. It did not stop climbing the longer you stood there, the anger building, and building, and building, until all that could be heard was the blood rushing in your ears.
“Dracarys.” Lucerys’ voice got louder, and you scrunched your eyes shut, hands tightly in fists as you held your breath. 
You listened to Aemond’s slow, steady steps as he came towards you. His presence coming up from beside.
“Zaldristos.”
You opened your eyes and were met with Aemond’s face. He looked down his nose at you, not cruelly, but expressionless as he watched you react to his brothers mocking. You supposed that he took great pleasure in seeing you like this, and the room began to heat around you the longer you thought of it. Your nails dug sharply into your palms as you all but sneered up at your husband. You blinked, opening your mouth to snap, and that’s when you saw him. 
Lucerys stood behind Aemond, watching you.
His eyes and mouth were bloody, and his robes hung heavily from his body, drenched head to toe from rain. His dark brown brows were drawn into a frown as he looked at you. He looked so angry. So rageful, and yet there was sorrow in his eyes. You gaped in horror as you looked at him.
A product of the man in front of you. 
A small cry left your lips as you watched him sneer. It had been a while since you had seen him like this. So small, so bloody, so haunted. 
So horrifying.
“Dracarys.”
“Enough!” You yelled into the space, watching as Lucerys disappeared with a blink of an eye.
Aemond looked to the space behind him, to where Lucerys had once been, and then looked back at you, head tilted. You did not take your eyes from where Luc had been standing, terrified that he would appear there once again, bloodied from Vhagar’s crushing jaws.
You felt tears well up in your eyes as a sob fell from your lips.
You couldn’t do this anymore. 
You couldn’t do this. 
You couldn’t.
Aemond stepped forward towards you, hand reaching out to touch you softly. You jerked away, wrapping your hands around yourself as you moved back towards the fire, tearing your eyes away from where Luc had been and away from the form of your husband. 
“The Gods must surely hate me.” You uttered to yourself, “Is it not enough that I am married to you?”
You looked down at your hand, fingers trailing up and down the scar of your palm.
Scars that would never leave. 
A brother that would never come back.
“You mustn’t-“
“Nothing that you say will make this better.” You interrupted, losing yourself to the storm building inside, “Nothing that you will do, will make this more bearable.” 
You turned to face him, looking in his eye as you watched his face. His hand dropped back to his side.
“You took him from me. You took him, and he is never coming back.”
“And you took Daeron.” He said quietly, “He is never coming back.”
You sniffed and turned away looking back at the fire. Behind you, Aemond moved to the side of the room, pouring himself a goblet of wine, and refilling yours. He took deliberate steps towards you until he stood in front of you, handing you your wine. 
You took it with no argument.
Aemond seated himself in his usual seat, and looked at the flames, sipping from his goblet in thought. You stayed standing doing the same, desperately trying to calm your anger and sorrow, lest it break free, and you bear the consequences of it at the hands of your husband. 
Again.
When your cup was half drained, Aemond finally spoke. 
“Don’t let him see that he is under your skin. It will only get worse if you do.” His voice was flat, though something else lingered beneath it, “I learnt that giving Aegon joy from your misfortune only feeds his cruelty.”
You let yourself look at your uncle. 
He sat still, looking into the flames, cup to his lips. 
If anyone knew of Aegon’s cruelty, it would be him. 
You grew beside them both and watched how Aegon had picked on Aemond his whole childhood, even serving to mock him now. Aegon and your brothers had never once held back in their teasing, and you of all people, would know this. 
Aemond knew how Aegon’s mind worked. 
You would do well to heed his warning. 
“And you expect me to sit there and take it? To take his mocking of Lucerys? The both of yours?”
“Yes. Like the dutiful little wife you are.” Aemond let his eye meet yours, “Just as I have had to, all my life.” 
“Easier said than done. I have nothing. I have lost everything.”
A pause.
“Mm. It gets easier with practise.”
You watched Aemond’s profile as he stared into the fire. Your eyes traced the sharp line of his nose, to the soft curve of his plump lips, all the way down to his sharp chin and cheeks. His hair looked so soft to the touch, you almost wanted to run your fingers through it. 
Or yank it.
“Why did you stop him?” You asked.
Aemond’s brow furrowed.
“Why did you stop him in the Dungeons?” 
Aemond stood and walked towards you, towering over your form as you clutched tightly onto the goblet in your hand.
He looked down at you, face uncharacteristically gentle.
It set you on edge more than his anger did.
“Because you are mine. And so long as I have breath in my lungs, no-one will touch you but me.”
His smile was so soft that it did not match the meaning of his words. It made your skin prickle as he held your gaze. A small hum erupted from his chest as he brushed a lock of hair behind your ear. You stood still as his hand lingered, his fingers gently caressing the back of your ear before he turned on his foot to make his way towards the bed.
Aemond began to strip himself of his outer robes. The dark heavy leather tunic fell loudly to the floor in a pile, the buckles clinking against each other, similar to the sound of a sword, making you anxious. Next was his undershirt, a thin white tunic which he pulled gracefully over his head.
You watched as the skin of his back was revealed to you. 
You knew that Aemond was lean, but you did not expect to see the outline of his muscles stretching across his back with each movement.
You had not witnessed him undress before.
The low candlelight caught on his hair which shone in the darkness, as he reached at the back of his head with gentle and skilled fingers to undo his small, simple braids. His hair loosened, and the locks that were held in braids all day were now wavy, and fell to the front of his face.
Aemond bent to pick up the leather tunic and placed it on a chair on the side of the room, putting the thin white undershirt on top of it in a messy pile. He did not once turn to meet your gaze as you watched him. 
And you, much to your disgust, found that you could not help but admire the way that he was built. No more was he the gangly little boy you remembered. Aemond was now a tall and muscular, who if anybody else, would entice you into his waiting arms to warm his bed willingly.
But he was not anyone else. 
You felt a familiar tingle in your core as you watched him from across the chambers. Heat speed into your cheeks and settled into your stomach to which you pushed down in anger, finally tearing your eyes from the man to look back at the fire. 
Do not look at him.
The flames danced and swayed around each other, the red and yellow kissing one another as they devoured the logs within. Fire was a beauty all in its own, but one that devoured all in its path. You heard rustling behind you and the sound of a goblet being placed upon a table. A deep sigh flitted across the space of the chambers and you fought the urge to turn around and gaze upon your uncle. 
“The hour is late.” Aemond called across the room to you.
You did not answer.
“Come to bed.”
A command. 
You were stuck in your place, daring not to move. But even as you stood, you could not force yourself to walk across the room willingly. You could not move as you felt fear trickle into your pores at the thought of crawling into bed beside him.
Would he hurt you again?
“Zaldristos.” He called, his patience from the day finally running thin, and that was all it took for you to turn and slowly move towards the bed.
Every inch of your body fought you as you walked towards the bed, tearing your eyes away from the fire. Aemond lay beneath the sheets, propped up by one elbow as he looked at you. His chest was bared, and you could not stop your eyes from flitting down the toned lines of his stomach. A small trail of silver hair working its way down to his-
You looked away to the ground as you got closer, heat rising into your cheeks. Aemond continued to watch you in amusement as you moved across the chambers until finally, you wear but a mere three steps from the bed. 
His hand pulled the sheet from your side back, slowly, an offering for you to crawl into the vipers nest. To lay beside him. To not fight it.
To be a good wife and lay beside your husband and bend to his will.
You gawked at his hand before looking back at him. Your eyes flitted from his face to his shoulder. 
There, nestled between his neck and shoulder was a jagged scar. The flesh was puckered and pink, skin pulled taut around the length of it. It looked thick and deep, and had a strange texture around it, as though it had been cauterised. 
Perhaps it had been. 
It looked a lot larger than you had thought it would have been, and you felt the smallest hint of pride swell inside of you.
There was the proof of your attack. 
The proof of your fire.
The skin looked sore, as though it would have been a difficult place to heal for him, especially with his love for the training yard. The scar was so close to where you had intended, that even the slightest movement of your hands, or his reaction being too slow, would have been fatal. You would have nicked the thick artery right at his neck, and Aemond would have bled out in a pool of his own blood, watched on in horror by his mother and knight.  
A shame you had missed. 
But mixed with this sense of pride, and disappointment of not doing greater harm, there was a quiet voice, lingering in the back of your head. A tiny, stinging pain that rose in your heart that you would not have noticed if it wasn’t for the turmoil that had began to build.
There, deep within you, was regret.
And right beside it sorrow for the damage and pain you had caused.
Was it your inner child that still held onto hope for a better future with him?
Or were you simply reminded that this was your uncle, sins or not, and that you had shared a youth together, and grown together, and had bonded together more fiercely than you had with your own siblings.
Aemond felt you observing where you had stabbed him and he let out a grunt, letting his arm slide beneath him as he laid down onto the pillow to look at you. You moved to crawl into the bed beside him, still in your dress, but his face stopped you in your tracks. 
“Undress.” Was all he said.
Your heart raced away in your chest as you turned away from him, reaching behind you to pull at the laces to loosen the gown and let it slip from your form. But the laces were too high, and each time you made to grasp the thread to unknot it, it would slip from your fingertips. 
You arms ached as you struggled with it until finally you felt the cool press of fingers at your back, goosebumps erupting around the skin as Aemond grasped the ties away from your feeble hands, pulling them with skilled practise away from your body. The dress sagged in your hold as you heard Aemond settle back into your shared bed. 
Letting a held breath pass from your lips, you let go of the gown at your front and let it drop to the floor, leaving you in your thin chemise beside the bed. As soon as the gown hit the floor you crawled into the bed beside him, racing to pull the sheets up to your shoulders before rolling onto your side, not sparing him a glance. 
Aemond huffed a small laugh and rolled away from you. 
You could feel the heat radiating from his body as you laid stiffly on your side.
Why had he not touched you? 
Was he waiting for you to let down your guard?
“Sleep well.” Came his voice from behind you, and you locked your hands tighter around the sheet.
But Aemond did not move once from his position, nor did he move closer to you, nor did a hand snake around your front to caress you. You laid beside him, as he blew out the candle on his side of the bed, and you uneasily did the same. A darkness eventually shrouded the room as the fire dwindled, and you listened to the steady, even breaths of Aemond as he fell asleep. 
Once you had realised that he was sleeping, you found that you could finally relax, drifting off into a dreamless sleep, your body finally giving in to the fatigue that had plagued you since your arrival.
You sunk into the clouded depths, your body so wound up that finally, it let go of everything around you. You did not dream, instead you floated in a state of nothing for some time. Sleep was the only place where you could escape the world around you, and not be present.
It was a peaceful and a reprieve from all.
A break from the horrors of your life.
But then you began to rise from those murky depths, a familiar tickle in your stomach growing with every passing moment. Your mind did not want to rise from its sleep, and so you were sitting in a limbo of half awareness. 
Aware that there was movement behind you, but no desire to break forth from your sleep to the present. But then the familiar tickle grew stronger, and you found yourself rising from your slumber, pleasure being plucked from your core with soft care. 
A sleepy moan escaped your lips as you wriggled, mind still not caught up to what was happening, brain foggy from the depths of your sleep. Fingers swirled gently around your bud, aided by the slick from your core, pulling pleasure from you steadily. 
Another breathy moan escaped you. 
Was this a dream?
You felt movement against your back, something hard rubbing against your cheeks in the bed, whilst hot breath fanned across your neck. A soft hum came from behind and you were suddenly snapped to the present.
Your eyes flicked open.
Aemond’s fingers softly rubbed your bud in circles, dipping down to your entrance to scoop up the slick your body made, as he dragged it back up to your pleasure centre, your core clenching around nothing. His touch was so soft and gentle, almost as though he was desperate to not wake you.
You body was hot and the coil inside of you was already wound tight from his ministrations. How long had he been touching you? Fear and disgust trickled down into you as you thrusted your hips backwards, desperate to escape his hand and their featherlike touch. Your ass ground against his hard, heavy member, which slipped between your thighs at the movement.
You froze.
His length brushed against your folds, sending a shooting heat up into your core.
The One-Eyed Prince continued his fingers swirling, his hips staying still as his cock was nestled between your thighs, pressed against your cunt, until they dipped back down to your entrance, a long thick finger pushing inside of you. A squeak escaped your lips and a blush rose on your cheeks. 
It shouldn’t feel good.
Why did it feel so good?
Aemond rubbed his finger inside of you, up against the soft spongey spot of your core. It happened so quickly that your release came from nowhere, blinding white hot pleasure coursed through you as you let out a breathless gasp, writhing in his grip. Your movements caused the tip of his cock to bump into his own hand between your folds.
His finger did not stop their movements, and instead you were met with a second, pushing into your heat, a dull stinging as they stretched you, pushing you through your pleasure, prolonging your release. Your hand came down to grasp his wrist squeezing it tightly, trying to pull it from within you as he scissored his digits within. 
It was too much. 
You were too sensitive.
A sob flew from your lips as you dug your nails into his hand, trying to tear his fingers out from within you. Aemond slowly pulled his fingers from within, leaving a wet trail along your inner thighs from your release and you twitched in his hold.
Your breathing slowly began to come down as your core fluttered around nothing.
Yet those fingers that were inside of you, were soon replaced with the thick head of your uncles cock, rubbing through your release-slick folds as he thrusted slowly from behind. You froze completely once you felt it, hand still gripping onto his wrist for dear life as he rocked back and forth, breathy moan falling from his lips into the side of your neck.
Your eyes welled with tears as you laid there, unable to do anything. 
You could not stop him. 
His hand parted your folds with great care as he rubbed himself against your centre, tip catching on your entrance as he slowly worked his way inside with, gentle, shallow thrusts, stretching you out as he gave you time to adjust to his length. 
He was only half way inside of you when you felt the burning stretch of his intrusion, though lesser than the first time. Your core clenched around him in pain as fear began to bloom. An uneasy whimper flitted past your lips, making Aemond bring a slick finger back up to your bud, gently drawing circles as he pushed himself fully inside of you. 
"Shhh." He cooed.
You silently cried out, feeling the head of his cock push up against your cervix. Aemond groaned behind you as he adjusted his hips, stilling inside of you as his finger continued to swirl around your pearl. Your core clenched around him as he began to pluck painful pleasure from you, feeling you slicken his length and slowly relax around him. 
Aemond stayed inside of you, feeling your heat flutter around his cock until finally he pulled back slowly, placing a small kiss against the side of your neck as he pushed his hips back into your heat, relishing in the warm, wet pleasure that you brought him. 
"Doing so good for me." He praised.
You clenched around him at the praise, a tiny moan escaping your lips. His finger on your pearl brought you close to another release, your hips squirming in his hold to try and chase it. Which horrified you all the more. 
Why did it feel so good?
You laid on your side as Aemond began to thrust into you, dragging his length through your folds, letting you feel each and every inch of him as he continued to draw pleasure from you with his fingers. He felt so large, and it stretched you deep within. With every slow push, you would swear that you could feel him in your stomach, the flesh bulging from his length. 
Tears welled in your eyes as you laid there.
This was so wrong.
It was so wrong.
Why did it have to feel this way?
Why was he being so gentle? 
Why was he bringing you pleasure?
Tears began to fall from your cheeks and onto the pillow below as he sped up his thrusts, the tip of his cock pressing sharply into your cervix with every thrust. He moaned from behind you as you felt his other hand wrap from underneath you, coming to rest on your lower stomach. 
Aemond pressed down onto your belly as he thrusted, amplifying your pleasure. It tightened everything and heightened your pleasure. You whimpered loudly in his hold. He felt so deep.
“Fuck, Zaldristos.” He moaned from behind, feeling your stomach bulge with every thrust of his cock. 
It made you feel ill, and so more tears fell from your eyes as you silently cried.
But then the coil began to tighten again, and your cunt gripped his shaft tighter with every thrust and roll of his fingers. When Aemond felt you begin to reach your peach, core clenching tighter against him, his hand pressed harder into your stomach, thrusting his hips into you harder. 
Aemond's fingers swirled around your slick bud quickly, and the lewd sound of your wetness and his hurried thrusts filled the chambers. He pushed into you harder, his tip digging painfully into the end of your core as he beat against it with no care. 
The hand on your stomach wound up your body as he continued, coming to palm your breast, rolling a pert nipple in his fingers. Your hips reflexively jerked backwards, his cock rubbing against the rough patch within you, causing the coil to snap once more, and your release flooding through your body. A broken moan falling from your lips
You jerked in his hold as he sped up thrusts, feeling you clench down on him tightly.
“Thats it. Good girl.” He murmured into your neck, placing a wet kiss on the skin as he continued to rub at your pearl, fucking you through your climax as your release coated his cock and your thighs.
More tears fell from your cheeks as he continued, his pace becoming rougher, seeking out his own peak. His hand left your breast, moving up to hold your neck, roughly squeezing it as his other hand finally left your bud, and gripped your hip viciously as he fucked himself into you. 
“So perfect. Always so perfect.” He moaned.
An airy squeak left your lips as he choked you, breathing restricted from his hand, each thrust punching up into you painfully after two releases, the overstimulation making you tense in his arms, but Aemond did not stop.
“So pretty." He grunted from behind, “Īlē vēttan syt nyke.” You were made for me.
His hand left your throat and moved higher, coming to grab your cheeks with his large palm, faltering as they felt the tears that flowed down them. As Aemond felt you crying, a feral growl came from his chest as he thrusted one final time, deep inside of you, pressing the tip of his cock up against your cervix as he came undone.
Aemond moaned behind you as he held your face, feeling the tears roll over his fingers as hot ropes of his spend painted your walls, tightly pressed against your womb. A broken sob left your lips as you felt the warmth of his cum flooding you.
Your core clenched painful around him from the aftershocks of your release, and you heard him grunt from behind you. Aemond sat pressed up inside your heat as he slowly softened in your walls, listening to you silently cry in front of him. His fingers on your cheeks rubbed against you, smearing the tears into your skin. 
You tried to roll away from him, to remove him from inside of you, but as soon as you moved, Aemond’s grip on your hip moved to your waist, pulling you closer to him in an iron grip to keep you were you were. 
Your stomach flipped as the glow of your release left, and shame and disgust crowded you. 
How could you have enjoyed that?
Why did you let him touch you like that?
Aemond stayed snugly inside of you until he fully softened, pulling out of your cunt slowly, as you felt his release leak from between your folds and down onto the sheets below. A hand came to brush against your core, gentle fingers prodding at your entrance, feeling where his spend had begun to leak from you. Another sob fell from your lips. His finger moved back up to your bud, attempting to press down on it again, and you jerked away with a pained yelp.
Only then did Aemond release his grip from you. 
Only then did the heat of his body move away from behind you, leaving your back cold and no longer smothered from the heat of his body.
Only then, once you had jerked yourself from his grip, did he roll over back to his side of the bed and fall easily to sleep, leaving you to bask in the horror of his assault once again. But this time your body felt heavy, and your eyes slide shut.
Exhaustion consumed you as you cried until you could not cry no more, silently beside your husband. The room was still dark, the fireplace was mere embers, and soon your body was dragged back down into the dreamless depths you had let consume you before.
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