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Pope's entire family is an afterthought when you come around. They know better than to rely on Andrew for much anymore, always at your beckon and call, revving his truck engine in the parking lot of their family meetings to come to you, ignorant to their badgering incessant calls after him as he veers off down the road. It’s impossible to hold his attention when you call, finger already pressing the answer button as his brother's words clip to call his name, but it’s an entirely different demon when you are within close physical distance. It’s like they’re not even there. They can hardly keep his focus with you tucked into his lap, thick hands tugging you back into him by the soft crease of your thighs, bouncing you up with a startled shriek from your lips so your feet dangle off the ground between his spread thighs.
Pope had never had many other girlfriends before, but he’s unabashedly public with how he handles you. Large spread palms rubbing up and down your legs, thumbs brushing the inside of your thigh, squeezing tight when he loses what little focus he has on the feeling of your plush skin in his rough hands. Tugging on the loose hem of your pretty little blouses, feeling up the sides to come up and cup under your tits with a honed in stare on your body, “This is new. When’d you get this one?” “Yesterday. Do you like it?” And his head is nodding, gaze still focused on the curve of your tits under the tight fabric, “I like it. You can’t tell?” grabbing your hips to pull you back against the hard outline of his cock straining in his jeans, the bulge of his zipper catching on the thin panties under your skirt, “Little body always drives me crazy.” Shoving his nose into your neck while he shoves a thigh between your legs, his brothers pretending they can’t see. It’s embarrassing, hands groping your peeking flesh, skirt jumping higher and higher under his pushing hips against your ass, top button of your blouse coming undone, “You tired of these guys yet?” The relief of his family when he scoops you up without so much as a goodbye and rounds the corner to his room.
sprinkling in little things like “say please” or “could you do that for me?” in casual situations to test the waters around pope’s pleasing kink. ⋆˚꩜｡
just from watching him around his family, you could tell pope liked to be needed. even when it was just the two of you, he was so gentle, so ready to listen to your words. even a small request would have him at your door in a heartbeat. he always went above and beyond for you, even if the two of you weren’t exactly a couple. you both… understood each other. that understanding made pope open up more little by little.
you first tested it out on a monday morning.
lena was sat at the counter, enjoying a small stack of pancakes you had whipped up. around a month ago, you’d began staying over more. with both baz and cath gone, you knew that pope needed a little help. it was the least you could do.
you stood by the stove, pouring more pancake mix into the pan. nowadays you spent almost every morning together, whether you stayed the night or not. by the time the pancakes were done, pope had rounded the corner like clockwork. lena had almost finished her stack, sipping a small glass of orange juice. she was completely consumed by the cartoons on the tv, a small pleasure you gave her before she had to leave for school.
“s’not good to watch cartoons so early.” pope muttered, mainly to you rather than lena. he stood parallel to you, his eyes shifting from the little girl, to you. he silently studied the furrow of your brow as you managed to flip the last pancake.
“It’s fine, a little pbs isn’t going to kill her, pope.”
pope only shrugged, leaning against the counter as you readied up a plate. he liked having you here. everything felt less empty when you were around. despite his necessity for organization and cleanliness, he liked how you just existed. he eyed the mess of your bags and strung about shirts on the couch. it was your domain as of late. most times he’d walk through the door and find you already asleep. he’d watch you for a bit. watch the steady thump of your pulse against your neck, or the subtle twitch in your hand when he knew you were dreaming.
he wanted to make sure you were safe. that you were comfortable.
you caught on to that quickly enough.
you handed pope a plate, done just the way he liked. the plate warm against your palm as you surveyed him. His hair was slightly damp from his shower, the auburn curls sticking to the back of his freckled neck.
pope turned his attention back to you, ready to take the plate before you pulled it back. his hand grabbed the air before quickly falling back down. he looked at you, a slight quirk in his eyebrow. he reached for the plate again, you tutted.
“say please.” you gave him a coy look. pope’s eyes dropped from your face, to the pancakes, then rose back to your face. he hadn’t caught on yet.
“please?” he mumbled. since when did he have to say please?
“what was that?” you teased, cupping your ear to hear him better.
“please.” he said, this time with more clarity. His eyes stayed trained on you. he felt like he had missed something.
you nodded, handing him the plate. “that’s what i like to hear.” you smirked at him, readying your own plate.
pope stood there for a few more seconds before sitting down at the counter. he watched your figure move about as you made your breakfast. why had you done that? a thousand questions spun in pope’s mind. teasing wasn’t an irregularity from you, especially in the morning. however, this carried more weight to it. he was so used to smurf and her condescending warnings, the way she’d call him baby while daring him to cross her again.
he’d done something wrong.
that had to be it.
why else would you ask him to say please?
maybe you felt unappreciated. with all the jobs pope pulled, it was mostly you and lena here together. lena loved you, you were able to connect easily with her.
the thought only made pope’s guilt stir further. he wanted to make you feel special, to feel supported. he tried to recall all the times you’d made him something to eat. sure he never asked you to, but it was the thought that counted wasn’t it?
he’d do better, for your sake.
you tested it out again around a week later.
pope kept the door open as lena walked into the house. he watched as she went into her room, presumably shrugging off her backpack after a long day at school.
“pope? can you come here for a second?” you yelled from the bathroom.
the shower head had been leaking recently. normally you’d have brushed it off if it was in your own home, but you knew pope liked having something to do. something to fix.
pope was in there a second after you finished your sentence.
“yeah?” he looked around, wondering for a split second if you were hurt. he gave you a once over, checking for any sign of injury. once he’d reasoned that you were fine, he let himself relax.
“The shower head’s been leaking, do you think that you could fix it? could you do that for me, please?”
pope glanced up at the nozzle, he watched it steadily drip. he slowly looked back at you, wordlessly nodding. your phrasing had made him feel warm, and pliant.
“i’ll have to grab my tools, they’re at smurf’s.”
you smiled, gently rubbing his bicep.
“thank you, you’re so sweet.” you slipped past him then, letting your hand linger before leaving the room.
pope watched you go, his skin prickling at the residual sensation of your grasp. he liked it when you touched him, it usually meant he’d done something right.
“no problem…” he muttered, buffering for a moment before getting to business.
from then on, pope made an effort to be better. he constantly said his please and thank you’s, he helped you clean, helped with whatever you asked him to.
in return he’d get validation. whether it be verbal, physical, or emotional.
you’d tell him how he did such a great job, or how you were proud of him. you’d rub his back, his shoulder, his arm, occasionally giving it a little squeeze. your praise rain straight to his cock, his whole body warming as if on command. it felt good knowing he’d done well for you. he knew he’d do it over and over again just to get that sweet look in your eye.
you knew your affect on him. pope was so gentle with you, if was only fair you treat him the same way. at a glance it might’ve seemed a bit exploitative. but truly, you knew pope liked to be useful. if it made him feel good, it made you feel good.
plus there was that odd time when you heard him jacking off after you’d called him your little helper.
you had him wrapped around your finger, and pope loved it.
a/n: not proofread, srry. also pope is so hard to write for. tell me if this is poopy or not (･_･;
the weight of his shame lingered in silence and dark corridors. he’d known it was wrong— gods, of course he did. he was sworn not only to chastity but to protect you. alicent and viserys’ youngest daughter- rebellious and sneaky. just like your eldest sister.
he’d done the same thing with rhaenyra— been seduced from his duties and fallen into the same trap, your bed. had the righteous white cloak pulled over his eyes. it was a terrible feeling: knowing no matter what he would always be pulled back in by that harlot.
yet that angry guilt never dissipates— and he follows you to bed each night none the less, and sits idle as you slowly undress and climb into his lap, thighs bracketing his own; violet eyes never leaving his own as you fall apart above him.
and each night is the same: after you both cum, he’d stare at the canopy ceiling of your bed and drown in his guilt. this was a princess he was meant to protect;yet he continuously defiles her innocence. but— shouldn’t it be him? has he not earned the right? rather than some tavern whore in the brothers of flea bottom?
the guilt curls hot in his belly each morning, as you walk past him with your handmaidens— hardly sparing a glance for the man you let see you, touch you, at your most vulnerable.
the spite came next— the angry names murmured in drunken hazes with his fellow kingsguard knights, to the bottom of goblets. haughty words with weights so heavy they had the ability to send him to his execution. slut. whore. trollop. it’s angry jealousy, he knows it. and the guilt of the words resonates worse than the angry daze they’re often said in.
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Omg i feel like SUCH a bother but i’m addictedddd to your trailer trash aerion fics where he abuses the nickname baby THEY GIVE ME LIFE. Please if you have any ideas😭😭😭
NO YOU ARE NEVER A BOTHERRR!!!!
tt!aerion fucking your face...calling you baby all sweet...₊˚⊹ ᰔ
he’s impatient.
he hates waiting, hates the slow buildup.
he just wants to bury himself in you and feel you squeeze him.
"you're too fuckin’ slow," he growls, grabbing the back of your head and shoving you down onto your knees before you can even get the zipper down. his boots thud against the gravel as he steps closer, crowding you.
his hand fumbles with his belt buckle,
click, clack
and yanks the zipper down. the sound is loud in the quiet in the afternoon air. he doesn't give you time to breathe. his cock springs free, heavy and angry, slapping against his stomach. it’s thick, veins bulging, already leaking a bead of precum that glistens.
"open up," he commands, his voice dropping to a ragged growl. "c’mon…", he doesn't ask for permission. he grabs his shaft, giving it a few rough pumps to coat it in the mess, and shoves it forward. the head breaches your lips, stretching them wide, and then he pushes forward. hard.
it hits the back of your throat instantly, cutting off your air. you gag, your eyes watering, but he doesn't stop. he holds your head in place, his fingers tangled in your hair, and begins to face fuck you. you can hear the squelch of your mouth around him, the wet slap of skin against skin. saliva bubbles form at the corners of your mouth, dripping down your chin.
"take it," he grunts, his hips snapping forward. "take it all, baby."
it’s sloppy. it’s wet. it’s exactly what he wants.
"you drooling?" he says, sounding annoyed but turned on. he wipes a glob of spit from your lip with his thumb. "look at you. such a mess. my baby is getting all messy for me."
he pulls back just enough to let you gasp for air, but he doesn't give you a break. as intake some air, mouth open, he spits right into your mouth, watching it land on your tongue.
"lick it up," he orders, thrusting back in.
you try to pull away, overwhelmed by the speed and the mess. "eww, aerion, i can't-"
he cuts you off with another deep thrust, his cock hitting the back of your throat again. "don't you dare say that to me. you want this…you love this."
he starts to face fuck you harder, his hips a blur. the sound of his skin slapping against your lips fills the air. slap. slap. slap. you look up at him with the most innocent eyes you can manage in hopes he might let up on you.
"you look so pretty like this," he coos, though his voice is strained with pleasure. "drooling all over my cock. you're such a good baby for me. taking it all. suckin’ it."
he feels you swallow around him. "yeah, swallow it. get it all down."
he picks up the pace, fucking your mouth faster and faster. you’re choking, gagging, tears streaming down your face. he holds you down, refusing to let you pull back, even as you struggle for air. your hands braced on his thighs, or gripping on the edge of his t-shirt.
"goooood girl," he groans, his eyes rolling back. "you're so good. huh baby? good at taking directions huh?"
he thrusts one last time, burying himself deep in your throat, and cums with a curse. he holds you there, letting you swallow every drop, his hand stroking your hair gently as you choke on his release.
finally, he pulls out, leaving you gasping for air, your lips swollen and red, covered in a thick layer of spit and his cum. you look a mess. you feel a mess.
"you're a fuckin’ mess," he says, looking down at you with a satisfied smirk. "get up and go wash off…can’t drop you off looking like this."
─ summary: Gwayne comes back from war and is so enamoured of his son.
─ pairing: Gwayne Hightower x wife!reader
─ content: literally nothing but tooth-rotting fluff
─ a/n: i just wanted some softness in my life. Thank you as always for reading🖤
The room lay wrapped in a silence reserved for the hours long past midnight, when the keep had surrendered its last stirrings, and even the wind lay still against the stone. In the hearth, the fire had banked and covered, leaving only moonlight to light the room. Darkness pooled in the corners. A watchman's distant call rose and fell, muffled by walls of stone and panes of glass, then faded into nothing.
Gwayne stood beside the cradle. He wore a loose shirt, its laces undone at the throat so the fabric fell open, revealing the hard planes of his chest. His strawberry-blonde hair, darker in the moonlight than by day, hung loose around his shoulders. One broad hand rested on the carved rim of the cradle, his fingers curling gently over its edge. With the thumb of his other hand, he traced the delicate curve of his son's cheek so lightly the skin barely dimpled. The boy was scarcely a moon old. He lay curled on his back, hands curled into tiny fists, his lips making small, unconscious suckling motions in sleep. He was so new, so impossibly small, that Gwayne could scarcely reconcile him with reality. This perfect, fragile life had grown and entered the world while he was away at war, and Gwayne felt unworthy of any claim upon it.
In the bed across the room, the furs shifted. You had awakened to the cold emptiness beside you. Eyes opened to the dim chamber, your hand reaching across the linen and finding nothing. You sat up slowly, the sheets sliding to your waist, and saw him standing by the cradle, backlit by the moonlight.
He felt your gaze.
"Did I wake you, my love?" he whispered, voice barely more than breath.
You shook your head, "I reached for you, and you were not there."
A flicker crossed his face, a softening of his mouth, a faint chastening of his brows. He looked back at the baby, then at you. You pushed the sheets away and swung your legs over the side of the bed.
"What are you doing?"
"I want him to see the moment he wakes," he murmured, eyes already drawn to their son.
You rose without a sound, your bare feet finding the stone floor, and crossed to his side. "He will, but come rest while he sleeps."
Gwayne shifted at once, opening his arm to draw you close. You fit yourself against him, your shoulder pressed to his ribs, your head turning to follow his gaze into the cradle. Together you watched the babe: the perfect smallness of him, the peaceful rise and fall of his breath, so new to the world, yet so sure of his place in it. "I do not want to miss another moment," Gwayne said, his voice low but carrying the weight of months spent in war; the nights in cold camps, the endless longing for home, for you, to meet the children he left growing in your belly.
You turned in his arms, hand finding his cheek, and kissed him. His hand was warm against your back as you began to guide him back toward the bed.
Then the baby stirred.
A thin fuss, a hitch in his breath, and he woke. His face scrunched, arms jerking in startled distress.
Before you could move, Gwayne was bending over the cradle, lifting the child. One hand cradled the back of the babe's soft skull, the other supported his tiny body. The rough strength of a warrior gave way to complete gentleness. The infant blinked, ready to wail, but then he met his father's eyes; blue to blue. He stilled, fists unfurling, gaze fixed almost in recognition.
"There now," Gwayne murmured, swaying from foot to foot, his voice low and warm, rough at the edges. Awe lit his features at the miracle in his arms. "I have you."
The baby sighed, eyes drifting closed once more. Gwayne kept his slow rocking, chin bowed, and you stood beside him, your hand resting lightly on his arm.
-18+ loss of virginity/first time sex!!, protected sex, fingering, vibrator use, oral fixation/sucking fingers clean, slight size kink, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, premature ejaculation, and one extremely smug man discovering he likes making his girl cum more than breathing!!!! lols ᥫ᭡
the movie was some mindless rom-com you'd picked, the kind where the leads fall in love in improbable ways against a sparkling city backdrop. you were curled up on your bed, tucked against his side, but you weren't watching the screen. you were watching him.
aerion was rigid. not his usual confident, take-what-he-wants self, but a statue carved from pure, undiluted anxiety. his eyes kept flicking from the television to your face, to the hand you had resting on his thigh, back to the television. he'd swallowed about a dozen times in the last ten minutes.
"you hate this movie, don't you?" you whispered, nudging him with your shoulder.
he startled, like you'd caught him doing something wrong. "what? no. it's... fine."
"it's fine?" you repeated, a smile playing on your lips.
"was just thinking," he mumbled, refusing to meet your gaze.
you knew what he was thinking about. the plan. the one you'd made a week ago, before you'd left for summer camp, a plan that had felt both terrifying and thrilling. your parents were out of town until tomorrow.
you were in your favorite soft pajamas, the ones with the little clouds on them. and you were almost certain he had condoms burning a hole through his wallet in his pocket.
you decided to put him out of his misery. you shifted, turning to face him fully, and placed your hand flat on his chest. his heart was hammering against your palm.
"aerion," you said softly.
he finally looked at you, and his eyes were so dark, so full of that intense emotion he always tried to hide. "yeah?"
"do you still want to do it? i want to if you-"
he let out a shaky breath, a sound that was half laugh, half pure relief.
"god, i was trying to figure out how to... i didn't want to..." he trailed off, just shaking his head.
he leaned in and kissed you, and it was different from his usual kisses. it was soft, almost hesitant, like he was afraid you might break.
you kissed him back, deepening it, threading your fingers into his hair. his hands came up to frame your face, holding you gently as he explored your mouth. when you pulled back, you were both breathing heavily.
"okay," he said, his voice a low rasp. he fumbled in his jeans pocket, his movements clumsy as he pulled out his wallet. he shook not one, but three foil packets onto your bedside table.
you burst out laughing. "three, aerion? really?"
his face flushed a deep red, spreading all the way to his ears. "shut up," he grumbled, but there was no heat in it. "i just... i wanted to be prepared. in case... i don't know, in case one ripped or something."
"that's sweet," you said, your voice soft as you reached out to trace the line of his jaw. "it's really sweet."
he captured your hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss your palm. "let me..." he started, then stopped, taking a steadying breath. "let me take care of you."
you just nodded, your throat too tight to speak.
he helped you out of your cloud pajamas, his fingers fumbling with the buttons on your top. his hands were shaking so badly he couldn't get the last one, and he made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. you gently brushed his hands aside and did it yourself, letting the shirt fall open.
he stared at you, his eyes wide and reverent. "you're..." he breathed, but couldn't seem to find the rest of the words. he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the hollow of your throat, then another between your breasts. his mouth was warm and his lips were soft.
he stripped off his own shirt, and you got to touch the hard planes of his chest, the smooth skin stretched over lean muscle.
he shivered slightly under your touch.
when it came to the rest of your clothes, it was a symphony of awkwardness. knees knocked, limbs got tangled, and he nearly fell off the bed trying to get his jeans off. you were both giggling, the nervous tension breaking apart into something warm and comfortable.
finally, you were both naked, the movie still playing forgotten in the background. he knelt over you, just looking, his expression so full of adoration it made your chest ache.
"you're sure?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"i've never been more sure of anything," you replied.
he took one of the condoms, his fingers still clumsy as he tore the foil. he rolled it on with a concentration usually reserved for finals, his brow furrowed in focus. then he settled between your legs, his weight a comforting pressure.
he looked you in the eye as he positioned himself, his gaze searching yours. "okay?"
"okay," you breathed.
he pushed in slowly, so slowly, and the sensation was overwhelming. a strange, stretching pressure that was a little bit painful and a little bit perfect. he stopped, his whole body tense, waiting for you.
"are you okay? did i hurt you?" he asked, his voice tight with concern.
"no, it's... it's just-" you gasped, trying to find the words. "it's just... big."
a flicker of pure, unadulterated male pride crossed his face before he could tamp it down. "yeah?" he breathed, a smug little smile tugging at his lips.
you wanted to roll your eyes, but the feeling of him starting to move, slow and shallow, wiped your mind clean of any witty comebacks. he was trying to be gentle, trying to make it good for you, but you could feel the tension in his thighs, the way his breath hitched every time he sank deeper.
he was holding on by a thread.
it was over almost before it began. with a choked gasp of your name he came, his hips stuttered and he froze, his whole body shuddering against yours. he buried his face in your neck, his breathing ragged and hot against your skin.
for a moment, there was only the sound of his harsh breaths and the distant dialogue from the tv. then he lifted his head, his face a mask of utter mortification.
"fuck," he whispered, his voice cracking. "i'm so sorry. that's…i'm sorry."
"hey," you said softly, reaching up to push the damp hair off his forehead. "it's okay. it's our first time."
"it was supposed to be about you," he insisted, his voice thick with frustration. "i was supposed to make it good for you."
"it is good," you lied gently.
he just shook his head, his expression devastated. he looked so wrecked, so utterly unlike his usual confident self. then, a spark of determination lit his eyes. "no. we’re not done." he started to pull out, but you stopped him.
"aerion, wait."
"i can make you cum," he said, his voice firm. "i can. just...let me try."
before you could protest, he was moving again, his hips resuming a clumsy, determined rhythm. he shifted his angle, trying to find the spot that made your breath catch, his hand slipping down between your bodies to rub clumsy circles against your clit.
it was sweet, and it was earnest, but it wasn't quite... enough. the pressure was building, but it was a slow, frustrating climb.
"you know," you said, your voice a little breathless. "we could... we could use something else."
he stopped, looking down at you in confusion. "what else?"
you gestured with your chin toward your nightstand. "in the drawer. its purple."
his eyes widened as he processed what you were saying. he slowly pulled out, dealing with the condom before leaning over to open the drawer. he pulled out your small, bullet-shaped vibrator, holding it like it was a foreign artifact.
"you want me to... use this?" he asked, looking from the toy to you, a new kind of nervousness in his eyes.
"yeah," you said, feeling a blush creep up your neck. "if you want to. it feels really good."
a slow, wicked grin spread across his face, the first truly confident expression he'd worn all night. "oh, i want to," he purred, clicking it on. a low buzz filled the room. "show me how."
you took the buzzing toy from his hand, your fingers brushing against his. "here," you said, your voice a little shaky. "just... like this."
you guided his hand, showing him how to hold the vibrator, how to press it against your slick folds. he watched, his eyes dark and intent, as you moved his hand in slow circles. the buzzing against your clit was immediate, a jolt of pleasure that made you gasp.
"right there?" he asked, his voice low and husky.
"mmhmm," you breathed.
he took over, his movements clumsy at first, but quickly growing more confident as he watched your reactions.
he learned you, his eyes never leaving your face as he experimented with pressure and speed. the buzzing was a steady thrum of pleasure, building inside you, a slow, delicious coil of heat.
"you like that?" he asked, a smug satisfaction in his voice now that he knew he was doing it right.
"yes," you moaned, arching your back. "don't stop."
he didn't. he kept the pressure steady, his other hand coming up to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple. the dual sensations were overwhelming, and you could feel yourself getting closer, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable peak.
he watched you, a predator learning his prey's every tell. the way your back arched, the sounds you made, the way your thighs started to tremble. he was a quick study, his confidence growing with every gasp he pulled from you.
"look at you," he breathed, his voice a low, filthy rumble. he slid two fingers from his other hand down, teasing your entrance before sinking them knuckle-deep inside you. you cried out, your walls clamping down around him. "fuck," he groaned. "tight, too. so goddamn tight and wet…”
he started a rhythm with his fingers, a slow, deliberate curling motion that hit that spot inside you every time, all while the vibrator continued its relentless assault on your clit. he was playing you like an instrument, and you were completely at his mercy.
he leaned down, capturing your mouth in a messy kiss. it was all teeth and tongue. "can you feel how hard you make me?" he growled against your lips, grinding his once-again-hard cock against your thigh.
you could only moan in response, your mind going blank with pleasure. the coil of heat in your belly was winding tighter and tighter, a spring ready to snap.
"that's it, pretty girl," he coaxed, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "let go. i wanna feel you cum all over my hand. i wanna feel this pretty little pussy squeeze my fingers c’mon."
he increased the pressure of the vibrator, his fingers pumping faster, and that was all it took. your orgasm hit you like a freight train, a blinding, explosive wave of pleasure that ripped a scream from your throat. you came hard and fast, your juices flooding his hand.
he didn't stop, drawing out your pleasure until you were a whimpering, oversensitive mess. only then did he slowly pull his fingers from you. he brought them to his face, his eyes locked on yours, and deliberately, slowly, sucked them clean.
“oh my god aerion-”
he smirked around his fingers, slowly pulling them from his mouth with a wet pop.
he tossed the vibrator onto the nightstand, its buzzing suddenly silent in the room. the absence of the noise made your own ragged breathing seem impossibly loud. he shifted, moving over you, his knees nudging your thighs apart. his cock, hard and heavy, rested against your stomach, a hot, insistent weight.
"you taste so fucking good," he groaned, leaning down to kiss you. you could taste yourself on his tongue. he kissed you deeply, hungrily, like he couldn't get enough. "all that just for me hm?"
he reached down, taking himself in his hand, running the thick, swollen head of his cock through your slick folds. he teased your entrance, not pushing in, just letting you feel him.
“condom aerion-” you gasped, your fingers gripping his hair.
he froze. the thick, swollen head of his cock was still nestled against your slick entrance, a tantalizing promise of what was to come.
for a second, he didn't move, his body a tense, rigid line above you. then he let out a harsh, frustrated sigh and dropped his forehead to your shoulder.
"shit," he muttered against your skin. "oh shit, right. fuck."
the foil wrapper crinkling in his hand. he tore it open with his teeth, his movements sharp and impatient. he rolled the condom on, and was back on you in a flash, his body covering yours, his weight a familiar, possessive pressure. he nudged your legs apart with his knee, his cock now sheathed in latex, pressing against your entrance.
"there," he said, his voice a little rough.
he pressed forward, just the tip breaching you. "tell me," he demanded, his eyes dark and intense. "tell me you want it."
you were still floating in the hazy aftermath of your orgasm, your body pliant and eager. "please," you whimpered, your hips rising to meet his. "please, aerion."
that was all he needed. with one smooth thrust, he buried himself inside you to the hilt. you both groaned at the sensation, the perfect, full feeling of him stretching you. he stayed there for a moment, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing ragged.
"fuck," he breathed. "you are so pretty…"
he started to move then, a slow, deep rhythm that had your toes curling. he was watching you, his eyes dark and intent, as if memorizing the way your face contorted in pleasure.
"you like the way i stretch this little pussy open? mm? my girl?" he asked, his voice a low growl.
you could only nod, your hands clutching at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. he was hitting that spot inside you with every thrust, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your veins.
"say it," he demanded, his hips snapping forward, his rhythm growing more erratic. "tell me this is for me."
"it's yours," you gasped, your voice barely a whisper. "i’m all yours, aerion."
"damn right you are," he grunted, his pace quickening.
you were lost, lost in the sensation, lost in him. you could feel another orgasm building, a slow, delicious coil of heat in your belly. "don’t stop-" you cried out. "please aerion-"
“i know, i know. i’ve got you-” he panted, his fingers coming down to press hard against your clit.
he came with a guttural groan, his hips slamming into yours one last time as he spilled himself into the condom, in you. you followed him over the edge a moment later, your body convulsing around him, a silent scream tearing from your throat as waves of pleasure washed over you.
he collapsed on top of you, his body heavy and spent, his face buried in the crook of your neck. for a long time, the only sounds were your ragged breaths mingling in the quiet room.
finally, he lifted his head, his eyes soft and sated. "told you i'd make you feel good," he said, a smug grin spreading across his face.
you laughed, pulling him down for a soft kiss. "you're very proud of yourself, aren't you?"
"i am," he said, kissing you back, his tongue delving into your mouth.
"you always do, make me feel good-" you whispered against his lips.
he rolled off you, but immediately pulled you into his arms, tucking you against his side. he was quiet for a long time, just stroking your hair, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your scalp. the post-orgasmic haze settled over you both, a comfortable, warm silence.
you could feel his heartbeat against your back, a steady, reassuring rhythm. his hand stilled in your hair, and he shifted, propping himself up on his elbow to look down at you. the smugness was gone, replaced by a soft, almost vulnerable expression.
"so," he started, his voice a little rough. "that was...okay?"
you turned your head to look at him, a small smile playing on your lips. "just okay?" you teased gently.
a faint blush crept up his neck, a rare sight that made your heart flutter. "no, not just okay," he amended quickly, a hint of his usual defensiveness creeping in. "it was...it was good. it was fucking great. but was it...good for you? like, really?"
you rolled over to face him fully, draping an arm over his waist. "it was more than good, aerion," you said softly, sincerity in your voice. "it was perfect."
he let out a breath he didn't seem to realize he was holding, his whole body relaxing. "yeah?" he asked, a small, genuine smile finally touching his lips. "even when i was being a...you know. a bossy asshole?"
you laughed, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "especially then," you admitted. "i like it when you're a bossy asshole."
he leaned down and kissed you again. "it's not just about me getting off. i want... i want you to feel good. i need you to feel good. seeing you like that... it's the best part."
he pulled you closer, his arm wrapping around you, holding you tight. "and the vibrator?" he asked, a hint of his usual cockiness returning.
"you're a very fast learner," you said, your voice muffled against his chest.
he chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. "what can i say? i'm a man of many talents."
you looked up at him, at the messy hair, the satisfied smile, the soft look in his eyes that was just for you. "you are," you agreed.
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Summary: Robby catches you and Jack in a compromising position.
Notes: You guys already know what this is. Also the return of rabbot x bimbo!reader. MDNI 18+
Robbys eyes blink open slowly, still heavy from the deep sleep hed been in moments ago, and lets out a groan from the back of his throat. He lays still for a while giving himself time to wake up naturally which is not a luxury hes usually afforded. The sky is starting to brighten, filling the room with a beautiful pink and orange glow but it does make him whisper out a gruff "fuck, really?" as his sleepy brain picks up on how early it must be. He moves his arm over the rest of the bed only to find it empty.
Thats weird.
For Jack, not so much. For you? Sometimes Robby thinks he could set of an airhorn in your ear and you stay fast asleep. He sits up and rubs at his eyes roughly before blindly grabbing his phone and checking the time.
5:12AM
"What the fuck." Robby moves sluggishly as he throws his long legs over the side of the bed and walking into the ensuite. Empty. He throws on an old pair of sweats and a shirt and drags his feet along the carpeted floor until he ends up in the kitchen to make himself a coffee having mastered the art of making a coffee with his eyes half closed years ago. The sleep does not want to leave his body today, leaving him feeling like a zombie swaying on his feet as he waits for his coffee to be ready. He takes a much needed sip of the bitter liquid, not caring about the burning in his mouth, and wonders around the house hoping to find wherever you and Jack might be hiding.
The front room is empty. The only things on the couch are the various pink throw blankets and cushions you picked out when you moved in- he cant even see you glittery water bottle you carry with you everywhere. With the sun starting to creep upwards Robby decides hell sit on the patio and enjoy his coffee before carrying on his search for you assuming you and Jack are up to no good (as usual). He slides the glass door open and steps out into the fresh air, eyes closed and taking in the cool morning air when a noise catches his attention.
The sight hes met with is more than enough to scare any remaining drowsiness from his aching body.
You and Jack, in the garden, asses in the air, each on one of your spongy lilac yoga mats.
Naked.
"What the fuck?!" Robby cant control the volume of his voice as he speaks.
"Robby! Oh my god you scared me! What are you doing awake?" Your sweet voice vastly contrasted your current position and you look at him through your legs.
He almost dropped his coffee. "What- What am I doing?"
"Yeah, you should still be in bed. You were so tired last night." Jack pipes up keeping himself focused on holding his pose.
"Jesus fucking christ." Robby runs a hand down his face roughly. "What the fuck are you two doing?"
"Yoga." You and Jack both say in unison.
"At 5am?"
"Best time for it Rob."
"Naked?"
"Mhm, it helps you get in touch with nature and centre yourself." You respond as you and Jack both begin moving into cobra flow. "You should join us Mikey, feel the sun on your skin."
He truly doesnt know what to say.
"Shes right brother it would do you some good." Jack says. "Stop your back from aching."
"I think ill pass. And if im doing any yoga it will be with clothes on, thank you." He takes a breath. "Seriously you guys? We have fucking neighbours. Me walking out here and seeing your asses-"
"Cute asses." You add and Jack smirks at you.
"-Is one thing, but the neighbours? Mrs Edwards doesnt need to see you all…" He waves his hand vaguely in your direction. "Spread open."
"Mrs Edwards doesnt wake up until 7:30 weve got time." You stand up and do some final stretches before turn ing to look at Robby.
"How long have you been doing this?" Robby sits down in one of your comfy patio chairs and scrunches his eyes shut.
"I dont know. Jack taught me."
"I learnt about it in the military."
Robby snorts. "Ha- yeah im sure you did."
"Its really good for you man, youre missing out." He bends down to roll up his mat and Robby looks away again.
"I think im doing everyone a favour by not doing it, ill leave it to you guys."
You huff. "Since when did you become such a prude Mikey? Youve seen our asses a million times."
"Normally inside, where im expecting to see it. Not outside for all the world to see." He places his mug down roughly having finished its contents. You and Jack approach him and lean down to kiss his bearded cheeks and ruffle his hair as he tries not to stare to obviously at your bodies (and Jacks hardening dick).
"Well were gonna go and have a shower. I would say youre welcome to join us but clearly youre not interested in our naked activities." Jack says before following you through the sliding door and smacking your ass making you giggle leaving Robby alone outside with a slowly growing tent in his sweats.
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warnings: piv, Aerion is an asshole (surprise!), protected sex, dirty talk
I've been thinking about Bourdain a lot recently, so here is something short. Enjoy!
Thinking about link cook Aerion and server y/n! They obviously met at the work when y/n first started working Aerion had already been there for a while. The restaurant has one Michelin star and the line is no joke.
Aerion made y/n cry her first shift when she brought back a dish a client claimed was undercooked, when the expo was already 15 minutes causing Aerion to snap on her.
“You think we don't already know what's coming out of here is shit already? The line is like 20 minutes behind and fucking think i want to look at a fucking undercooked steak! Stop acting like a dumb cunt and just put the order in again so we can fire it again.” he said without missing a beat all while plating a halibut dish.
Your lip quivered and your eyes began to glaze over as you took the plate away, as soon as your heel turned away from the kitchen you began to cry throwing the dish in the garbage.
“Who was that anyway?” Aerion thought out loud turning to Duncan who was working the station next to him.
“y/n is her name, I think, it's her first day. You could've been easier on her” he scolded Aerion who often lost his temper in the kitchen.
“It was a dumb thing to do, she’s hot though.” he said coolly as he continued to work.
At the end of your shift Aerion makes it up to you by saving you dessert, and silently giving it to you while you put your coat on.
“Sorry for snapping on you earlier, didn't know it was your first day. Try to avoid doing shit like that on busy nights like this.” he said immediately. Ruining the apology just to walk away, and lighting a cigarette.
-
Line cook! Aerion Who you developed a small crush on after he started flirting with you during your shift. Making comments about the way your work dresses fit you and the way you walk, you acted disgusted in the moment but you both knew you loved it.
Especially when you both fell into the routine of taking your break at the same time every night. He would be smoking and you would come outside to get a breath of fresh air and to sneak a sip of Pinot Grigio or Sangria. His hands would soon find your ass and pull you in for a sloppy kiss. He tasted like cigarettes and espresso, his skin smelt like expensive cologne. You later learned that he exclusively wore Jazz Club by Maison Margiela .
And by the end of the night if he was too impatient to get you back to his apartment he would pull you into the washroom and take you from behind, while you held onto the edges of the sink.
“Come on sweet pea, look into the mirror so you can see your face and how good I make you feel.” His intense watercolored eyes looked at you as your breast bounced and his cock slammed into you. He covered your mouth as he finished into the condom, trying to muffle your moans from the staff who were still cleaning up.
“Are you coming over?” He would act blase as he tucked himself back into his pants trying to act like he wasn't invested in your choice. He was.
“Do you want me to come over?” you asked as you fixed your lip combo in the mirror. He was not well acquainted with asking for what he wanted. Aerion looked at you playing hard to get and walked over resting hands on your hips and placing his head in the nook of your neck so he could whisper.
“Yes, I want you to come over so that I can fuck you into the mattress, and make you breakfast in the morning.”
-
Line cook! Aerion whose love language is acts of service and by proxy he loves cooking for you. His apartment is damn near empty with blank walls, and all his books in stacks in the corner. When you woke up in his bed that was placed only upon wood slats you could immediately smell the aroma of freshly made coffee and Florentine Eggs.
You rarely ever saw Aerion sit down and eat for some reason, he would always watch waiting for your reaction or sit and drink his own coffee while reading.
“Do you consume anything other than parliaments and shots of espresso?” you questioned pointing to the tiny cup as you continued to dig into the food.
“I snack.” he answered putting out the cigarette into his glass ashtray.
“You snack?” you eyebrows knit together mid chew.
“Why are you so concerned with my eating habits?” he countered.
“Have you ever thought that you're grumpy because you're hangry?”
“y/n I am not hangry” he was beginning to become irritated and truth be told you love to annoy him.
“Let me feed you” you suggested, holding up a fork of egg. He glared at you but you continued to hold up the fork until he gave in. opening his mouth so you could guide the fork in.
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