Especially when he rams himself inside you. Heβd be balls deep, your tight gummy walls squeezing his length as he thrusted himself inside and out your tight hole.
βFuuuckk Joel- ,β youβd moan out gripping the bed sheets beneath your touch while heβd have you in a filthy doggy pose.
βSho-Sho good Joel-β you mumble, utterly cock drunk as heβd continuously ram himself in and out of you.
his throbbing length roughly and fastly penetrate you as your poor pussy gushes out your sweet sweet juices in return.
And the noises, god the noise, the filthy skin slaps with every thrust fill in the room causing your neighbours to once again complain about the lewd noise that was coming from upstairs every night.
Joel finds himself reaching his climax one you had finally come again which was the third time you had.. your legs shivering as as his thrusts turned rougher and faster and when he grunted out
βFuck, baby.. Let me finish inside, pleaseβ
βWant you-shit- round nβ full with my kids, babyβ
You nodded, eagerly begging for his fat cock to spill his sweet liquid deep inside your pussy.
βFill me, Joel, please please- oh fuck,β
And just like that with a finally thrust Joel had spilled his warm milky ropes deep inside of you, his thrusts slowing down but not pulling away as he softly thrusted inside and out of you, whispering softly in your ear,
βGunna make it stick baby, want you full and round with my kid,β
ᨳΰ¬~
And it wasnβt much of a surprise when the pregnancy test Joel had bought you when you had some faint morning sickness came back positive cause he knew how to make it stick.
Breeding kink might actually be my favourite thing ever omfg. Also i wrote this at the beach cause i hate getting in the waterπͺπͺ #productiveaf + this wasnβt proof read:(
Taglist! Ig im tagging people in drabbles from now on oh well
Sugar Daddy! Harry Castillo x F! Sugar Baby! Reader
Synopsis: You promised yourself you wouldnβt fall in love with your sugar daddy. Spoiler alert, you did.
Genre: smut :))))))
Warnings: kissing, pet names, use of brat/ a bit of brat taming, p in v sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (Iβm not sorry), sugar daddy/sugar baby dynamics, alcohol usage, sort of mentions of an age gap
Gif credits to owners!
You were spoiled, very spoiled, by one Harry Castillo. When you moved to New York you never pictured yourself becoming a sugar baby. But here you were. One very rich man wrapped around your perfectly manicured finger nail.
You had dreams, when you had first moved here. To become a journalist and pay your way. But coming from a small town you didnβt realize how hard making those dreams a reality were. So instead, to pay the bills, you became a bartender.
It was a very nice bar on the upper east side. One that made you wear a vest and button down, even a little tie. The men here tipped nice especially if you flashed them a look or smile or both. Add in a little flirt and they easily fished out a one hundred dollar bill.
Needless to say with this, your small studio apartment was covered. But that was just barely. With your rent so high, there wasnβt much wiggle room for the βfunβ stuff.
So when Harry Castillo became one of your regulars and eventually propositioned you to become his sugar baby, you took little convincing to say yes. It also took you little convincing to actually fall in love with him too.
To the outside world you were his girlfriend. Playing your role perfectly by going to events with him. Something for the world to see that he was taken. At home, you two were friends. Nothing more than two alike people hanging out. Except one was paying the other.
You knew this was a no strings attached gig, but that didnβt stop your heart from yearning for him. The way he laughed, the way he smiled, the look he gave you after someone said something stupid at a gala. They all made your heart flutter.
It was beginning to feel like you were in way too deep. Especially right now as you two headed up to his penthouse in the elevator. Both of you had a bit too much to drink and were clinging onto each other as to not fall over.
His body heat radiated over you and you couldnβt help but shift your weight feeling the burning between your legs. Harry seemed to pick up on the shift in the air and glanced down at you.
βYou okay? That wine was strong.β
βIβm fine. Just a bit hot.β You shouldnβt have said that because he instantly put distance between the two of you. It was a sweet gesture, but not what you wanted.
βI didnβt mean because of youβ¦itβs just-β You werenβt sure what you were trying to say. It wasnβt like you were going to confess.
βItβs just what?β
Instead of responding, you look up at him. Thereβs no particular look that graces your face in this moment but it still seems to spark something in Harry. His hands attach to your hips and back you into the elevator wall.
βItβs just what?β He repeats himself.
His chest is pressed to yours, you can smell his expensive cologne. You take a deep breath, trying to savor the scent. Eyes lock onto his and through your lashes you can see the blush on his cheeks, from the wine you assume.
Finally you respond, βI want you.β
βSee, baby, thatβs all you had to say.β
And with that he crashes his lips onto yours. Itβs almost like he thinks this is the last thing he will ever do with the passion in his kiss. Just then the doors of the elevator open, you almost donβt hear it. Harry is backing the two of you out of the doors and stumbling into the apartment, lips still connected.
He manages to direct the two of you to the couch where he drops you onto it. Heβs stripping his suit jacket off now, and ungracefully pulling off his tie. Undoing just the first button of his shirt before returning his lips to yours.
He is hovering over you, caging your body in with his. Like he is scared that if he lets you go, youβll run.
βFuckβ He almost whimpers into your lips as he catches his breath. βLetβs get this dress off of you, hm?β
You nod trying to draw his lips back into yours but just coming up short. Instead, he is pulling you back up to your feet and turning you around. Fingers slowly pulling down the zipper of your dress as he leaves open mouthed kisses on your exposed neck. He pushes your dress forward once itβs unzipped and you shove it off.
Turning back around to face him, Harry finally takes you all in. No bra and black lace panties. He looks like a man starved.
βFuck me, youβre gorgeous. Come on.β He grabs your hand and drags you down the hallway to his bedroom.
You had been in there many times before but something about this time felt so different. Just looking at the satin seats had you reeling. Images of you gripping onto them as he fucked you got you so excited.
So you grab his shoulders and push him towards the bed, willing him to sit down on the edge. You straddle him now. Flipping your hair over one shoulder you give him a knowing look before connecting your lips once again.
He groans into the kiss. Hands grip your waist, almost tight enough to leave marks and you just know he wants to take control but is enjoying you on top of him too much.
βYou wanna show me how hard you are for me?β You say in between kisses.
The only response he can give is a nod. Before he is moving his hands under your ass and lifting you off of him. This time dropping you onto the bed way nicer than he did the couch.
He finally takes his shirt off now, along with his pants, and underwear. Now he is standing in front of you in full glory. You bite your lip, you knew Harry was hot before. But I mean, now? Goddamn.
He stalks back over to you, ghosts his lips over yours before trailing kisses down your body all the way to your panties. He is now on his knees in between your legs. Mouth now ghosting kisses over your clothes core.
βDid I buy you these?β He asks, fingers dipping into the waistband.
βYes, you did.β
βHow nice of me.β He hooks his finger onto the waistband now and pulls them down with a little help from you.
βAlthough I love the packaging, I much prefer to see my food before I eat it.β
You gulp, as he attaches his mouth to your soaking wet center. He licks the length on your pussy slowly a few times, before focusing his energy onto your clit. He wastes no time working your bud at a fast pace, trying to get you close to your edge.
βHarry please.β You whine out, wanting that sweet orgasm.
βPlease what?β He loos up at you expectantly.
βYou know what I want just Harry please.β You throw your head back, as an act of desperation.
βCome on, baby, donβt be a brat now. Tell me exactly what you want.β
Your head snaps down to make eye contact with him. βPlease, Harry, I want to cum.β
βGood girl.β He reattaches his tongue to your clit now. But instead of just this he starts to poke his index finger at your entrance. All the arousal that had been building throughout the night, even before the elevator, makes it easy of it to slip in.
The newly added feeling bringing you even closer to the edge. You grip one hand on his arm, probably leaving marks, as the over grabs his curls. But just as you are to reach your peak, he pulls his mouth away from you and his fingers out of you.
βAs nicely as you asked and as badly as I want to see you come undone for me, I need you to cum on my cock.β
The protest you were going to let out dies on your lips at his words and you nod in agreement.
βYouβd like that wouldnβt you, my little needy girl.β
Another nod.
βWhat else would my girl like? Hm? For me to finally fuck her raw?β
Yet another nod.
βWanna use your words, brat?β
βPlease fuck me raw, sir.β
The title sends him over his edge and he pushes you into the mattress. Lips kissing yours so hard that your teeth clash, tongue trying to swallow yours whole.
He grabs your hips and lifts them slightly, just enough to position himself at your entrance. His lips leave yours so he can watch his cock entering you. Harry lets out a moan at the sight.
βThis pussy is just perfect for me. Made me for me.β
βAll yours.β
He growls at your words and snaps his hips into yours. You werenβt sure if it was the tension the two of you had for the past months or the wine but you never imagined Harry would be this rough with sex. Not saying you didnβt like it, it was just unexpected. You wondered if everytime would be like this. If there was even a next time.
You shake those ideas out of your head and focus on the man in front of you. Well, on top of you. He is snapping his hips into yours with a force that has to sliding up the bed. His satin sheets making it easy for you make it all the way up to the headboard.
You put your hands above your head, using the headboard to push yourself back onto Harry. He grunts at the new feeling. Grabbing your boob, he plays with your nipple.
βCome on baby, I know you canβt last long. Me either, I need you to cum for me.β
Harryβs hand that isnβt on your boob grips your hip hard, another gesture to make you focus on the task at hand. Not that you needed it, you were close. You were close since he first pushed past your walls.
You moan and arch your back as Harry hits that particular spot inside you. βHarry Iβm gonna-β Your words leave your lips as your orgasm washes over you. Blinding white light clouds your vision as your body jerks uncontrollably on his dick.
Pussy walls clenching onto Harryβs hard member, is just what he needs to send him over the edge. Shooting white hot ropes of cum into your awaiting cunt.
He fucks into a few more times to make sure all his spent is released. Grabbing your waist, he pulls you just slightly so he can lay beside you without having to take his now sensitive member out of you.
βWell that was-β He starts.
β-amazing.β You finish.
You both laugh. Before quieting down and looking deep into each otherβs eyes.
Biting your lip, you ask him what youβve been wondering since he had first kissed you. βSo uh what do we do now?β
He feigns ignorance, βLay here?β
βYou know what I mean.β You smack his bare chest lightly. βI mean, what are we?β
βYou were already my girlfriend so might as well make it for real.β
βIs that really your proposal?β You laugh.
βHey, itβs still better than my way of asking you out originally. Too chicken shit to do it so I made some shit up about you being my fake girlfriend. And then paying you for it.β
βWait does this mean, Iβm not longer your sugar baby?β A bit of this is out of fear, knowing that Harry made your life in New York financially possible.
βOh baby, this means youβll be even more spoiled.β
Harry grabs your face in his hands and kisses your lips. This time lovingly. That when you feel it. His member still inside of you growing hard once again.
βAgain?β You say shocked.
βHey, I may be older than you, but I still got it going on. Now let me make love to you properly.β
And he calls you honey and sweetheart as he's railing into you. Babygirl and angel. Cradling you like you're fragile but fucking you like you're indestructible.
summary: After Frank sees you holding your niece, heβs overcome with baby fever. So of course, when you get home he canβt stop himself and long story short he begs to put a baby in you!! π
authors note: read part 1 here!! okay this is basically just the after events of them getting home, Frank tells her how he feels and yk whatβs next π€·ββοΈπ€·ββοΈ can read this without reading the first part!!
content: fem reader, smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), uhh- major breeding kink, desperate!frank, size kink, spoiler- it doesnβt fit, husband!frank, pet names (mama, sweetheart, baby), praise, yearning!frank, he begs?!, aftercare!! because frank is a real man π«‘
word count: 4.6k
The front door had barely clicked shut behind you before the weight of the evening started pressing down on Frank. The drive home from your brotherβs house had been thick with silence, his hand gripping your thigh, thumb stroking over your bare skin like he could somehow imprint the memory of you holding your niece right onto your skin.
Hours later, your house was quiet except for the hum of the city outside the windows. Youβd changed into one of his worn t-shirts, the hem brushing your thighs as you moved around the kitchen making tea. Frank had tried to distract himself by flipping through channels, checking his phone, even loading the dishwasher. But nothing worked. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you cradling the baby against your chest, that soft smile on your lips as the little one wrapped her tiny fingers around yours. The way youβd rocked her so naturally, like it was the most effortless thing in the world. Like you were made for it.
He couldnβt stop thinking about it. Couldnβt stop imagining it was your baby- his baby- sleeping against your chest instead.
Two hours have dragged by in this strange, warm feeling. Youβve curled up on the couch together watching something on TV, but Frank barely registers any of it. His arm stays locked around you, fingers tracing slow patterns over your stomach. Every few minutes he presses a kiss to your hair, the curve of your shoulder, each one lingering longer than the last. His body is tense, a low thrum of need running under his skin that wouldnβt settle.
By the time the clock ticks past midnight, his body is aching.
Frank finally stands up from the couch and crosses the room to where youβre standing by the window, staring out at the scattered city lights. He comes up behind you without a word, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you back against his chest with a shaky exhale. His hold is tighter than usual, almost desperate, like heβs afraid you might slip away.
βGod, baby,β his voice is rough, overcome with yearning as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. βI havenβt been able to think about anythinβ else since we left your brotherβs. The way you looked holding her. Like you were meant to be a mom.β
βAw, sweetheart,β you say gently, letting your head fall against his, as he breathes into your neck desperately. You knew somethingβs been up, especially with the way Franks been so quiet, almost something pensive about him.
A large hand of his slides down, splaying wide over your lower stomach, as his fingers press in with a kind of reverence. You can feel how hard he is against your ass, his hips involuntarily rolling forward as if his body is already trying to make it real. You try to stop yourself from letting out a whine, obviously needy now that heβs making all this baby talk.
βI keep picturing you like that with our baby,β he whispers hoarsely, his lips brushing your ear. His breathing is hot and uneven, like heβs not in control of himself. βYour belly full because of me. Your tits all heavy. Fuck, Iβm losing my mind thinkin about getting you pregnant tonight.β
He turns you slowly in his arms, cupping your face with both hands. His eyes are glistening with pure, aching want. Gently, his thumbs brush over your cheeks as he searches your gaze to figure out what you think, his breathing ragged.
βI need it, sweetheart. Please-β His forehead drops to rest against yours, voice dropping to a broken murmur. βLet me take you to bed. Let me put a baby in you.β His voice is dripping with desperation, like he needs to see you like that. Holding his child.
βAlright baby, alrightβ you whisper, moving your hands behind his neck so he can anchor you, knowing the extreme weight of your words. You pull your head back, and nod gently. βI want that too Frank.β you whisper, a little emotional. βI wanna make a family of our own.β You let out a small, choked noise as Frank nods, moving your hair out of your face for you.
He presses his lips to your forehead, still being gentle for you despite how out of control he feels. βCβmereβ he says, hands trailing down to your hips, before he lifts you up firmly, your legs wrapping around his torso. You canβt help but squirm, almost bucking your hips into his abs. βEasy, baby,β he murmurs, moving his face to your neck, peppering you with gentle, wet kisses.
You whine, head lolling to the side, and Frank gets it. βMhm, I know baby, shh,β he coos, lips on your collarbone as you hold onto him desperately. He holds you steadily with one arm, the other reaching down, his fingers brushing against the hem of the fabric of your shirt. Well, his shirt. He lifts it up, and you help pull your arms out of it as he tugs it off, over your head.
You curse yourself for wearing a bra and panties under the shirt, because you need him so bad- but now thereβs an extra barrier between you. Your tits are sore and aching, pressing against his chest as he pulls you closer, wanting to feel you against him.
Holding you steadily, he starts taking heavy steps towards the staircase, holding your head against his shoulder carefully, as if to keep you safe. Like a steady rhythm, he presses a kiss to your shoulder each step upstairs. Before you know it, youβre in your room, your bedside lamp filling the space with a golden glow.
You canβt help but gasp and whine at every graze of your skin on his, you donβt know whatβs made you so sensitive tonight- besides your desperate want for Frank, to have his babies. βI know, sweet girl, I know,β he murmurs against your skin, voice thick with need. Heβs laying you on your back, nestling you in the middle of the sheets on your bed.
You gasp at the contrast of the cool sheets on your skin, your body on fire with want. βFrankie,β you whine, clawing at his chest, trying to pull him closer onto you. Heβs hastily moving his hands down your body, desperately kissing everywhere he can reach.
You whine, feeling molten as his hands burn into your bare skin. βMhm sweetheart, weβll make you feel so goodβ he coos, kissing your forehead, as one arm lifts your torso from below so he can undo your bra. Itβs quickly thrown to the side, and his lips are all over your chest as he feels you with his calloused hands. βThere we are baby, sβthat better?β he whispers against your skin, palm kneading one of your tits, as his stubble grazes the other one.
His tongue is between your tits, moving lower as he worships his way down your body, kissing and licking until he reaches your stomach. His calloused palm rubs over it gently, his yes filled with longing. βGonna make you the prettiest mama ever.β
His fingers are tracing the waistband of your lacy panties, and soon heβs sliding them down, discarding them to the side as he settles between your thighs, both his arms hooking under one to reach you better. βThereβs my girl, all wet and ready fβmeβ he groans, inhaling your scent. βBeen thinking about this pretty pussy all night.β
Slowly, he lowers his head, the flat of his tongue pressing against your slit. βOhh, you taste so sweet babyβ he murmurs against you, which makes you shudder.
He licks at you slowly, with purpose- like he has to savour the moment. His tongue parts you gently, your slick gathering in his mouth as you whine. βMph, fuck- youβre perfect mama.β Heβs loving on you, pressing messy kisses against you, his tongue working soft kitten licks against your folds, like youβre something fragile.
βFrankie I need you so badβ you moan breathlessly, his gentleness driving you to the edge. He mutters something against your core, and then heβs licking more messily, more fervently. His arms are still wrapped around your plush thighs while he starts to devour you now. You moan every time his nose nudges your clit, back arching up desperately. βMm, oh- fuck!β you moan, legs feeling like jelly as he eats you like a favourite meal. βFrank- fuck!β you cry out, desperate for release.
Your hands move to his hair, and you push his face down- a little too frantic. He chuckles into your heat, but understands what you need. βAlright baby, easy.β he says lowly, licking noisily at your pussy, moving up to suck on your clit. That nearly breaks you, and you canβt do much but whine helplessly.
βAw my babyβs so needy,β he groans, voice laced with faux sympathy. His eyes meet yours, mouth still clamped down on you, and his tongue meets your entrance. βLet go baby, alright?β he coos, tongue fucking you gently.
Your hips buck against his face as sweat gathers above your brows. βFrankie Iβm so close-β you all but cry, knees weak as his mouth is back on your clit, the pressure deliciously perfect. βShit- mph- Im gonna cum-β you mumble, barely able to get out a proper sentence.
βCum fβme baby, thatβs itβ he praises as you finally break, thighs shaking around his head. Your orgasm hits you hard, back arching as you gasp and cry out his name. Frank licks you through every wave, murmuring sweet filth against your sensitive flesh.
He moves back, climbing back up, beginning to kiss you so deeply that you can taste yourself on his tongue. βMy sweet girlβ he praises, pulling the shirt off his body in one tug. He hovers over you, undressing himself as you watch him, both your legs limp. Still, his eyes donβt leave yours as he pulls his trousers off, your clothes now in a pile to the side of your bed.
βLook at me, baby,β he whispers, climbing back onto the bed, his cock bouncing against his thigh. Heβs big, but thick too, and itβs a real stretch getting him to fit most of the time. He climbs between your thighs again, lifting your head gently to fix the pillows beneath your neck. βThere we are mama, getβcha all comfy.β
Though itβs never been said, and he never pressures you into anything, you know one of his favourite positions are missionary. You donβt know it, but itβs because he can see your beautiful face, feel you against his chest as he holds you, makes love to you.
His mouth is beneath your ear, peppering kisses down your neck as he moves further down. He canβt hold himself back anymore, so he takes his dick into his palm, tugging himself a few times, head falling back in need as he groans. He looks back to you, lining himself up at your dripping slit. His aching tip nudges against you, slipping past your clit since youβre both wet with need. You twitch at the brief contact, and Frank tries again, pushing against you till his tip finally slips inside, plopping in place.
You gasp as he finally enters you, pushing in slowly. βThere we are baby- god, youβre so tightβ he groans, a hand on your hip. He bites his lip in concentration, pushing further as he watches your face. Your eyes close, wincing at how overwhelmingly big he is. βThink you can take it?β he asks sweetly, trailing a hand to the side of your face and cupping it lovingly.
You nod, eyes still squeezed shut as he stretches you out further. βThatβs it baby,β he says, thumb moving along your jaw, βlet me see those eyes.β You open your eyes and they meet his dark ones, all while heβs still gently pushing into you. βAlmost there, youβre doing so wellβ he praises, leaning down to kiss your forehead. None of this matters to him if youβre not feeling loved.
Heβs almost fully in, lips still brushing past your hairline, murmuring words of praise. You gasp sharply, digging your nails into his shoulders at the intense fullness, and he hasnβt even bottomed out yet. You feel like youβre going to tear. βFrank-,β you moan, but youre wincing; it sounds like youβre in pain.
βHey, hey..β he says, eyebrows furrowed in concern as he moves back slightly to see you, βwant me to stop, baby?β He rakes his fingers through your hair, tilting his head as he watches your face.
βI can take itβ you say, shaking your head, wanting more.
βI know you can sweetheart, but I canβt let myself hurt you.β His voice is soft and caring, like heβs talking to something fragile. Still, his fingers are running gently through your hair as he watches you with his big dark eyes.
βPlease Frankie, I want all of you,β you protest, shaking your head, βI promise Iβm okay.β He canβt help but sigh, like heβs fighting with himself. He tilts his head, quiet for a second before he speaks.
βBaby, we can still do it like this, I canβt have you hurting yourself.β he says softly, shaking his head. He looks upset, like itβs his fault youβre hurt. βIt ainβt worth it-β
βFrank.β You cut him short, and his hand makes its way to cup your face. βI can take it. I want all of you.β He frowns, watching you like the most treasured thing in his life before he sighs in defeat.
βAnything hurts, and you tell me to stop- okay? Anything.β
You nod, your sweet eyes never leaving his. βAlright baby,β he whispers, clenching his jaw as he pushes himself even deeper. βDeep breaths fβme, thatβs it.β You hold his shoulders as he gets impossibly deeper, inhaling and exhaling deeply like he said. His own voice is strained when he speaks, βAttagirl, youβre doing so well.β Itβs like he forgets his tight you are every time you fuck.
βFuckkkβ he groans, bottoming out into you. βIβm all the way in, sweet girl. Right up against your womb.β Something about the way he says it so bluntly makes you moan. His thumb drags across your bottom lip as you cry out, he hasnβt even started moving yet.
βMm, please Frankie,β you whine, bucking your hips against him subconsciously.
βI know mama,β he murmurs, slowly starting to rolls his hips into yours. Your legs burn from having them up for so long in the air, and as if Frank can detect it, he helps you rest them around his hips. βThere we are baby,β he groans, a little more need in his thrusts now, like heβs setting the rhythm.
You whine each time his cock grinds in and out of you, deliciously dragging past your walls. One of his hands is working at your tit, squeezing and moulding like youβre made of dough, just so he can feel every part of you. His other hand trails down to your side, stopping at the crease where your hip meets your thigh.
He keeps his hand tight there to keep you steady and continues thrusting- deep, needy rolls of his hips that quickly turn desperate. Skin slaps wetly against skin as he fucks you harder, eyes locked on yours the whole time. "You're so warm," he groans, head lolling back "m'gonna pump you so full tonight, baby."
He looks down, watching your stomach in awe, before guiding your hand to rest over your own stomach. "Feel that sweetheart? I'm so deep inside you." You nod, biting your lip at the overwhelming feeling of being so full. All of your senses are going insane. His own hand presses gently but possessively on your lower belly, feeling the bulge of his cock with every thrust. "That's where our baby's gonna grow.β
You moan and whimper beneath him, legs wrapped tight around his waist, trying to pull him impossibly closer. βYou're taking me so well, my sweet girl.β The eye contact makes it even more intimate- his breath mingling with yours as he pants dirty, loving words into your neck. "Gonna cum so deep inside this pretty pussy. Fill you til you're stuffed."
After long, desperate minutes of missionary, his body presses flush to yours as he pants, sweaty and breathless. He kisses you hungrily, your tongues clashing all needily, and then slowly pulls out with a reluctant groan. βOn your stomach fβme, sweetheart. Wanna breed you even deeper.β
He helps flip you over, his hands running down the slope of your back, lips following them to press hot, wet kisses all the way to your ass. Carefully, he hovers over you, then covers your back with his much larger body. He pulls your hips up just enough with a soft: βAttagirl,β and places a pillow beneath them. With a few more kisses against the back of your neck, he sinks back inside you in one smooth, filthy thrust. You cry out at, glad he did it slowly before, so at least you knew what to expect.
The new position lets him press you into the mattress, caging you in completely as he starts pounding desperately, like a dog in heat. βOh fuck, baby, this is perfect. I can feel every inch of this sweet pussy.βHis thrusts are deep and urgent, hips snapping against your ass with obscene sounds. If you werenβt so horny, you wouldβve told him to quiet down, βincase the neighbours hearβ. One hand reaches underneath to rub your clit while the other strokes your back lovingly. βFeel how deep my cock is, baby? Gonna pump load after load into you till youβre leaking me for days.β
Youβre crying out into the sheets, pushing back against him desperately as your pussy flutters around his thick length. Frankβs voice stays sweet but deliciously pervy, the way you like it, right by your ear. βThatβs my girl. Love how wet you get when I talk about breeding you. Gonna keep you stuffed every night till your belly starts swelling. Canβt wait to see these tits get heavy too- mm, all for our baby.β
You moan louder into the mattress, the pillow under your hips tilting you perfectly for him. Every thrust grinds against that spot deep inside you, making your toes curl. Frankβs weight pins you down so sweetly, as a thick arm braces beside your head, while the other keeps rubbing slick circles over your puffy clit. The slap of his hips against your ass fills the room and makes everything sound even filthier.
βFuck, listen to that,β he growls against your ear, voice rough and loving all at once. βTaking me so well, brave girl.β He nips at your shoulder with his teeth, then soothes it with the flat of his tongue, all while his hips continue bucking into you restlessly. βYouβre so tight, baby. Getting close again?β
You nod frantically, words lost in your throat as another deep stroke forces a broken whimper out of you. He feels your walls flutter harder around his cock, and groans lowly, like heβs pleased.
βYeah? Gonna fall apart while I breed you? Go on sweet girl, lemme feel it.β His fingers press a little firmer on your clit, and he quickens his pace until finally, the coil snaps. You cry out his name, pulsing and gushing around him as pleasure takes over your body. Frank groans like heβs the one falling apart, his hips stuttering for a split second before he continues to fuck you straight through it, drawing out your pleasure for you.
He doesnβt even stop. If anything, he gets more desperate, like he wants even more from you.
βAttagirl- fuck, just like that.β His hand slides from your clit to grip your hip hard, pulling you back onto him with every thrust. βGonna fill you up baby, keep this womb nice and full fβme.β
He shifts his angle slightly to drive even deeper, the head of his cock nudging your cervix with every snap of his hips. Youβre still weak from your orgasm, whimpering as he uses you, his breath hot against your neck. βYou okay baby?β he asks, voice gentle. βThink you can take it? Lemme get you nice and full?β
βFrankie- please-β you manage to choke out, voice hoarse. You push yourself back with all your might, and he understands.
βAlright, mama. Iβm right there. Gonna pump you so fucking full.β He presses a kiss to your back, before his thrusts eventually turn erratic, grinding against you like heβs trying to bury himself inside you forever. βThatβs it- fuck- gonna breed this perfect pussy.β
With a groan that sounds like it was ripped from his the bottom of his chest, he slams against you one last time and stays there, his cock throbbing inside you as he starts to cum. Youβre flooded with that familiar substance, white hot like thunder, as pulse after pulse of it paints your insides.
He keeps rocking shallowly through it, pushing his load deeper, making sure none of it escapes. βRight there, baby, thatβs where it belongs.β he groans, holding you tight as his hips continue bucking. His eyes are squeezed shut in pleasure as he groans lowly, and youβve never felt him so vulnerable inside you.
Youβre both panting, skin damp with sweat, limbs weak and limp. Frank stays buried deep against your soft ass, as he carefully collapses his weight onto you in a protective cage. He presses wet kisses along your spine and the back of your shoulder, murmuring praise between each kiss, like he wants your skin to absorb his words.
βTook me so well, pretty girl. Look at you, all stuffed and dripping.β One of his hands slide under you again, resting warmly over your lower belly where heβd pressed his palm earlier. βCan already imagine it. You round and glowing, carrying our little one. Gonna keep you like this, sweetheart. Filled up and loved every fuckin night.β
He stays inside you for a long moment, softening slowly but refusing to pull out yet. Itβs like he wants to stay in the comfort of you for as long as possible. Lazy little rolls of his hips keep his cum right where he wants it, deep inside you. Eventually he moves himself to the side, pulling you against him so youβre tucked against his chest, a leg draped over his. His hand never leaves your belly, and as if heβs already protecting something precious, his thumb strokes back and forth against you.
He looks down at your hopeful eyes, and kisses your forehead, before moving to your lips, slow and sweet this time. βRest up, baby,β he whispers, his voice husky and warm. βGonna need to fill you at least twice more before morning.β
You stay curled against his chest, both of you still catching your breath. You smile softly against the skin of his chest, already feeling the warm trickle of his cum starting to slip down your thigh, but you know heβll just push it back in with his fingers- or his cock- soon enough. Frankβs cock has softened inside you, but he keeps you pressed close, an arm around your waist while his other hand continues that soothing moment over your belly like heβs already imagining it round.
After a few quiet minutes, he presses a gentle kiss to your temple and gently starts to ease himself out of you. You whimper at the loss and the sudden feeling of being empty, but heβs already shushing you softly, as a parent would to a child.
βI know, baby. Iβve gotcha.β His voice is low, but so full of warmth as he speaks to you. He rolls you onto your back carefully, before kneeling between your spread thighs, his eyes darkening for a second as he watches his cum slowly drip from your pussy. Before you know it, two of his thick fingers push it back inside you, making you twitch. Your lips part and you whine softly, eyebrows furrowed from how overwhelmed you are.
βI know baby, I know.β he murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to your lower belly, before he slowly climbs off the bed. βIβll be two secs,β he whispers reassuringly, turning around and leaving your room.
He returns quickly with a damp, warm cloth and a glass of water, watching you with awe as you lay down. He gently helps you sit up first, holding the glass to your lips as you drink. βSmall sips, sweetheart. There we go, such a good girl fβme.β You drink obediently as he lets you hold the cup, so that he can move down slightly. He starts to wipe away at the crease between your thighs with the warm cloth, wiping away the mess as he presses small kisses to your inner thighs, urging you to part them slightly.
βSore?β he asks, noticing the slight tremble in your legs. You nod, and he smiles warmly, setting the cloth aside. βAlright,β he says quietly, moving his big hands to your thighs, starting to work at your them firmly, before moving to your calves.His hands are strong but still gentle as he massages you, until youβre basically melting into the sheets with a soft sigh.
Once heβs satisfied youβre taken care of, he slides back into bed and pulls you beside him, whispering βthatβs it pretty girl,β as your head rests near his heart. The covers are drawn up around you, enveloping you both in warmth. The air is warm, but in a familiar comforting way. His calloused fingers trace up and down your back, making you giggle, while his other hand cups the back of your head lovingly.
βYou did so well tonight,β he whispers against your hair. βIβm so proud of you, sweet girl.β He tilts your chin up for a slow, deep kiss, and itβs nothing urgent this time, just purely affectionate. His mouth is warm and familiar, and if you could, youβd stay like this forever, with his skin against yours, his lips begging against yours.
βHow do you feel? Any pain anywhere?β You shake your head, nuzzling back into his neck. He hums, full of relief and tightens his big arms around you, never wanting to let go.
βI meant every word mama, I canβt wait to watch your body change, to see you carry our baby.β His hand moves back to your belly, rubbing over it tenderly. βEven if it doesnβt happen right away, Iβm keeping you stuffed and loved until it does. Iβm gonna take care of you baby. Always.β
He reaches over and clicks off the lamp, tucking you even closer to himself as your legs stay tangled together. His voice grows a little sleepier, but itβs still full of that quiet reverence.
βClose your eyes, I gotcha. Gonna hold you all night long. And in the morning, Iβll make you breakfast all nice an pretty, and we can do it all over again if you want.β
You hum quietly, already drifting off to the beat of his heart. All you can feel now is the gentle press of his palm on your belly. You feel safe and cherished, and itβs all youβve ever wanted.
Itβs also all Frankβs ever wanted, after facing all the hardships in his life. A beautiful girl to love, someone he can confide in and call his. And finally, he has it. Nothing could make him happier. And he wonβt let anything take this away from him.
He sighs contentedly as your warm breath fans against his skin, knowing youβre lying there, safe and full of him. No matter what, heβll give you this baby. Heβll help start the family youβve both always wanted, and be here for you through thick and thin.
As his eyes close, and his arm aches from the weight of your head against it, he thinks about the future youβre going to build together. The sounds of giggles and laughter filling your home. The warmth of a family to call his own.
i miss you 2012 avengers. i miss you the avengers tower. i miss you irondad and spiderson. i miss you meme lord shuri and peter. i miss you loki lingering in the tower for no other reason than that he's the main love interest. i miss you poptart-eating thor. i miss you grumpy bucky barnes. i miss you old man, chronically offline steve rogers. i miss you clint in the vents. i miss you girls night with wanda and natasha. i miss you resurrected, shamelessly flirty pietro. i miss you clueless, socially inept vision. i miss you the rare bruce banner feature. i miss you sassy sam wilson. i miss you cheeky reader who always called fury by his first name. i miss you super nanny phil coulson. i miss you christmas avengers blurbs in the middle of the fanfiction written by an autistic 14 year old. i miss you πππ
@broadsdrinkwhisky this is for you !! (finally) :3
table of contents; stark!reader, age gap, forced proximity, sexual tension, mild degradation, rough sex, hate-fucking, βoh we both nearly just fucking died so why tf notβ sex, strong language.
the inn falls silent when you swing the door open, bashing it off the wall. dried blood cakes to your face, matting your hair and crusting to your leathers. sandorβs shadow blackens the doorway, stretching beyond you until it swallows your own looming silhouette. the floor boards groan with his entrance, his head bowed to avoid smacking it off the doorframe.
you charge straight for the counter where the innβs owner stares at you from behind it, almost cowering at the sight of you. βweβre closed.β he says, hoarse.
βdoesnβt look closed.β you challenge, motioning with your head to the numerous guests around you enjoying their stew and ale.
βweβve not any rooms left, boy.β he bristles, leaning toward you.
βiβm no boy.β you let your hair down so it falls over your shoulders, and slam the direwolf pin that fastened it onto the counter. he flinches, eyes widening when he recognises the sigil of your house. βbut i am a stark of winterfell.β
βmy travelling companion and i ran into some trouble on the road, you see.β you start to explain just as sandor joins your side, towering over you. the innkeeper glances at your blood-soiled clothes, takes a swallow, then flits his eyes back to yours.
βand iβd rather not resume travel to the capital while drenched in blood and guts. i trust your rooms have basins.β you prop yourself up against the counter, smearing it with blood.
βas i said, my ladyββ
βthereβs none left, i heard the first time.β you glance up at sandor who scowls wordlessly at the man, then turn back to the innkeeper and point at the room keys that hang from their hooks behind him. βthat one will do.β
the man follows your finger, his face falling.
βi presume itβs not in use, since the key is still there. i imagine its occupant wouldβve had quite the trouble trying to get in, if so.β
you smirk when he reluctantly unhooks the key and slides it across the counter to you. βand for you, ser?β
βweβll share.β you answer sharply, swiping the key. βoh, and donβt call him βserβ, he doesnβt like it.β
you make way for the rickety old staircase and sandor follows closely at your heel. βkeep the pin, my good man.β you call back. βitβs worth a lot, and iβve no silver to spare.β
the room is lavish for what youβd expected. indeed it has a basin; a fireplace, too. you begin to unbuckle your belt, then start with the drawstrings that fasten your leathers to your torso. the dried blood that splatters it binds the string together and you huff, unsheathing the knife at your hip to snip through the burden.
your leathers fall to your feet, leaving you in your cotton tunic and trousers. across from you, sandor struggles to rid himself of his own clothing, confronting his clasps with words youβd rather not hear.
βhells,β you mutter, marching toward him. βlet me do it.β you smack his hands away and start to undo his doublet, foul-smelling thanks to the death heβs reaped.
βit will be better to share the bath water, then wash our clothes after weβre clean. iβll light the fire and leave them to dryββ
βthe fuck you will.β he growls, pushing away from you to do the rest himself.
βoh, wind your neck in, will you?β you scoff. βmost feared man in westeros my arse.β
βthey can air-dry.β he barks, hands moving to his waistband. βleatherβs waterproof.β
βwater-resistant, actually. but whatever.β you grumble, stripping down to nakedness.
he eyes you, gaze sinking to your chest. you take note of his silence and glare back at him. βwhat? never seen a woman naked before?β
βnone as flat as you.β he spits, a rosy hue staining his cheeks.
you chuckle, grim. βalright then, clegane, pull it out. let us see that needle the gods forced you to go through life with.β
he says nothing and tugs his tunic over his head, discarding it at his feet.
βi thought as much.β you smirk, triumphant, and pad over to the basin, only thereβs no jug to be seen. βshit.β
βthe fuckβre you whingeing about now?β he huffs, the bed groaning when he settles atop the mattress.
you let out an exasperated sigh and turn to throw a sarky comment his way, but the words die on your tongue when you catch sight of his bare torso. his chest is barrelled and pumped from your altercation on the road, biceps swole and the muscles in his back rippled from their exertion.
βso itβs alright for you to ogle.β he quips, a hint of disport clear in his tone.
your nose wrinkles, but you canβt help but sneak another look before turning away again. βin your dreams, clegane.β
βiβve dreamt of it, donβt you worry your pretty head about that.β he retorts, manspreading across the mattress.
you roll your eyes. βmake yourself useful and ask him for a jug.β
βwhy me?β he grumbles, making himself comfortable.
βbecause youβre still clothed.β you parrot, walking around the bed to yank one of the sheets out from under his head to wrap around yourself.
he sits up, and just as you think heβs about to comply with you for once, heβs pulls his trousers down and slings them back at you. they hit you in the face and you glare daggers into the back of his head.
βnot anymore, iβm not.β he throws a glance back at you. βbut you are.β
your nostrils flare and you challenge his pettiness, dropping the sheet from your frame. it bunches at your ankles and you kick it away. βnot anymore, iβm not.β
his eyes dip, then snap back up. βyouβre a difficult little bitch, arenβt you?β
you quirk a brow. βyou couldβve gotten it by now.β
he holds your stare, then stands from the bed to face you. as if of their own accord, or by some invisible force, your eyes are drawn to his nether regions. heβs well-endowed and you find yourself eating your words.
not a needle at all.
βiβve spent my whole life doing as iβm bid,β he says lowly, moving on heavy feet until heβs a mere a foot from yourself, much inferior in comparison. βforgive me if i refuse to be bossed around by some uppity stark bitch.β
but his eyes donβt carry the same thick agitation as his voice. theyβre full of something far thicker; the kind of stare your mother used to warn you of, only youβre not unnerved by it. in a twisted sort of way that should bring you shame, you quite like it.
you start to throb.
βyou call yourself a dog,β you remind him, having to crane your neck rather uncomfortably when the gap between you lessens. βexpect to be treated like one.β
he grins, crooked and profane. βyour daddy liked to run his mouth.β then his face appears inches from yours. βlook where that landed him.β
βhonour got him killed.β you tilt your face up like you mean to inspect the ceiling. βthereβs nothing about this that i would call honourable.β and you gesture between you.
his chestnut eyes narrow down at you, leering and predatory. he may expect you to cower or relent. but you donβt blink, hell, you donβt even breathe. he canβt find any fear in your gaze, nor any disgust or revulsion.
you donβt know how or when, or who moved first, but your mouths find one another in a hungry clash of tooth and tongue, hands groping and clawing.
you bite down harshly on his lip and he grunts, licking at your teeth before meandering past them to tackle your tongue with his.
youβve never been kissed like this, like he wishes to strike you instead, piling all of his anger into it.
then he fists you by your hair, wrenching your faces apart. a rough hand presses between your shoulder blades where it shoves you, bending you over the edge of the bed.
you feel so insignificant when he does, spade-like hands lifting you by the hips to situate you on your knees, arse in the air and your cheek smushed against the mattress.
βstark of winterfell.β he mimics, hateful and bitter. βlook at you. . . no better than a common whore.β
you fist the sheets, though you make no attempt to fight him off. βfucking a lady on her hands and knees,β you counter, stomach flipping when his thick fingers brush through your folds to collect your slick. βlook at you. . . no better than a dog.β
if he had a retort he decides against voicing it, instead opting to bully his cock within your soaked cunt.
you both go rigid and the sheets find place in the clamp of your jaws. it takes his hips a few sputters for him to submerge himself completely, but once he has, you feel as though heβs torn through your loins.
you can feel him everywhere. in your stomach, in your guts, in your throat.
he stills, fingers gnawing at your hips. βfuck.β
you groan, the stretch of your hole shooting a tremor that scorches up the length of your spine.
βnever been fucked?β he presumes through gritted teeth, your tightness compressing him.
βnot for a while.β you manage, still adapting to what might as well be an impalement. βnot by the likes of you.β
not by a cock this big.
he grunts, then attempts to retract from you. the width of him drags against your walls and you shudder, wincing slightly as your opening starts to shrink again when only his cockhead remains inside of you.
but he doesnβt allow you much of a chance to adjust to him this time, and plows back in to the hilt. it propels you forward, your nipples grazing the sheets as he sets an unyielding pace.
you mewl, his taking of you almost as vicious as when he takes a life. the pressure at your hip eases when he grabs you by the scruff and yanks you back against his front like you weigh nothing, your sweat combining whilst the wiry hair that masks his skin scratches and nips at yours.
βwouldβve done this a long time ago if i knew it would shut you up.β he grunts, bending over you slightly so his words tickle the shell of your ear.
youβd bite back an insult if you could, but all you manage is a pathetic whimper, one that fuels his thrusts to snap more furiously.
heβs hitting that gummy part within you perfectly, the spot that twists your insides like a knife. you start to rock yourself back along the curve of his cock, meeting his hips halfway. itβs raw, the room loud with the sound of skin slapping skin. itβs filthy.
a cramp starts to form as you try to maintain a rhythm as desperate and unremitting as his. you wonder how long itβs been since he felt the warmth of a woman squeeze him; and it occurs to you that selective obedience isnβt the only thing he shares in common with a hound.
soon his hips start to falter just as you sense your peak approaching, mind growing hazier when a rough palm slips around you to fondle your breasts, gathering both of them in its paw. thereβs nothing gentle about the way he tweaks your nipples, pinching and rolling them whilst he ravages you like a bone.
βshit. . .β you slur, becoming limp in his arms.
heβs struggling, too β his core engaging every muscle so that they strain against your back, cock rummaging a little messily without much manner.
soon youβre one with the mattress again, flat on your stomach and prone before him. but he never leaves you unfilled, the bed dipping beneath his weight when he mounts your backside and resumes his evil treatment of you.
βgodsββ you try, though it emits in a croak or something closer to a squeak.
the head of his cock punches your summit over and over, ruining you for the next man if you can even bare to be fucked again after this, or in such a way.
the occasional deep and guttural groan slips past his lips, large body tensing above you as you start to clamp down on him like you mean to swallow him or hold him there forever.
βrelax.β he hisses, fingertips landing on where you gape around his girth, rubbing the aching flesh with surprising skill. βcan hardly fuckinβ move.β
βgo slower.β you snap back, tears brimming as every ligament and tendon seems to seize.
so he does, not by much, but enough for the pleasure to start subsiding the pain again. then your back arches inward when it all becomes too much. his unforgiving pace; the noises he makes; the way he seeks that same region of your depths, kissing it every time like no other man has; and just from being fucked so thoroughly.
and finally it hits you, cracking down like whip. your jaws wrench open when the heat of it simmers in your veins and narrows on your cunt, thighs snapping to a close and eyes clenching shut.
heβs still going. even as you fall silent, twitching from the aftershocks, he pounds into you like itβs all about his release and nothing to do with you.
but youβre numb to it now, an exhausted little heap for him to use. you donβt even mind.
and only when you feel the warm spurting of him relieving his load over your tailbone and buttocks do you realise heβs finished with you, and muster the strength to settle onto your side, more exhausted than you were following the confrontation that landed you here in the first place.
the door creaks and you find it in you to open your eyes, weary and lidded. βwhereβre you going?β
βto ask for a jug,β he deadpans, retying his trousers. βand some clean fuckinβ sheets.β
table of contents; time jumps (s1, 4 + 8), reader is iconic after the time skip, sexual tension, mentions of rape but literally just the word, possibly triggering language, use of a pet name, age gap (but your age isnβt specified), youβre a snow but not physically described, eventual p in v, hate-fucking, sub(ish) sandor, cum-dumping, brief mentions of bleeding, honestly i canβt be arsed to list everything so mdni please.
enjoy this little piece while cherryβs next chapter is still in editing π
the halls of the red keep are like mazes to you. they like to go on forever, curling back on themselves but still somehow taking you in opposite directions. it seems to you that the targaryens were spindlers of bricks; weaving and spinning a cobweb of pillars and towers that seem to pierce the sun and cast shadows on the sky.
the north is so simple and you miss that. but here, you are lost.
you stumble upon a dead end. you swear your chambers are on this floor, they certainly were yesterday. or did you take a wrong turn? the winding stairs, the long stroll through a high-rising courtyard, then more stairs, then another long stroll. . . where on earth have you ended up? this corridor looks familiar, or do they all look the same? you donβt recall.
βlost again are we, pup?β
you swivel at the voice, almost knocking over a rather expensive looking vase. the queenβs dog. he always appears when you least need for it, like he tracks you when youβre at your most vulnerable. sniffing for your confounded scent.
βno,β you tell him, gasping when your back hits the wall. βand stop calling me that.β
he sniggers, sauntering closer. βi think the little pup has lost her way.β
you take a ponderous swallow, the weight of it dragging down your throat. βi am not lost.β he half expects you to stamp your feet. βgo away, leave me alone.β
his smirk doesnβt waver, and his large frame continues to draw closer. his size casts a shadow that stretches ahead of him, carpeting the hallway with a dreadful umbra. it shades you, engulfing you in its darkness. you swallow again, harder this time, and you hear a grim chuckle which tells you he mustβve heard it.
βthe queen sent for you.β
you stand a little straighter, hoping he cannot see the way you shudder in his presence. heβs almost reached you now, heavy boots ringing against the floor.
βi will make my own way.β
a low, gravelly laugh booms from his steel-plated chest and you cave in at the husk of it. βyou donβt know where she is.β
βis she in the throne room?β you implore, meek.
you can smell his musk now. sweat, ale and flesh. βdo you know how to get there from here?β
you falter and peer out of the window with a desperate sidelong glance. all you see is sky. βhow did you find me?β you interrogate, snapping your gaze back to his encroaching soma. heβs nearing you. the hall seemed longer when you were alone but somehow his imposing stride has claimed it in short succession.
βi was waiting for you,β he rasps, his dark eyes more hooded than usual. βin your chambers.β
you frown, yelping when your back hits the wall again. you hadnβt even realised you were backing away.
βbut you never came.β heβs in front of you now, large hand finding purchase at the bricks beside your head. βi thought maybe youβd taken a wrong turn.β he pushes himself from the wall slightly so his view of your body is a little clearer. his eyes rake it from top to toe, hovering at your chest before returning to your face. he smiles, crooked. βi caught up to you a few wrong turns ago.β
βwhy didnβt you stop me?β you find your voice again, and the question comes out sharper than intended. his expression hardens and you shrink into yourself.
βthe little pup forgets herself.β he drawls, trapping the thin flesh of his lower lip between two teeth.
βi can talk to you how i like. youβre not a ser, youβve said so yourself.β your tone shocks you β youβre not sure from where youβre finding such confidence.
a gritty chuckle slips through the lopsided crook of his smirk, eyes seemingly darker than before. βpup is relying too much on my forbearance.β
βiβm not a pup,β you tell him, tilting your head high. βiβm a lady.β
βyouβre a bastard.β he spits, almost hatefully. βyour mother was a wench or a common whore or both, no doubt with an arse full of custard and tits like saucers.β
you do well to handle his words, allowing them to bounce right off you with stoic ease. βwould you rather the term woman?β
βaye,β he shifts on his feet, intense stare sinking below the realms of your comfort. βyouβve bled, then?β
suddenly a sickening befalls you. β. . . no.β
he adjusts his stance again, but this time his eyes remain focused on yours. βthat so?β
you opt for silence. itβs thick and deafening.
he takes note of your pause, nodding. βlate bloomer?β
βi suppose.β you lie, shuffling awkwardly as you lower your head.
he hums, bowing his head again to soak you in. βbut these have bloomed.β his armour clinks when he raises an arm, finger pointed to your cleavage.
you berate yourself, eyes squeezing shut for a moment. βthey havenβt, not entirely. it is just the corset.β
the hand that previously gestured to your chest travels to your middle where it pinches, cupping your side. you jump, the cool kiss of his gauntlet shocking you through your silk. βyouβre not wearing a corset.β he squeezes your waist once, then lets his hand drop.
hot tears start to well in your eyes and you become weak at the knees, leaning back against the wall for balance. βpleaseββ
βtheyβre well-rounded for a girl who hasnβt yet bloomed,β he speaks lowly, leaning down. βtell me, pup. what babe do these intend to feed if you have not bled?β
βi donβt know,β you mumble, trying not to cry. βthe body can work in mysterious ways.β
he lets out a crass, dry chuckle. itβs vicious and forced. βi thought you were a woman.β
you sigh deeply, expelling it from your nose. heβs laid down the foundations of a trap and you stumble straight upon it. βi am. iβm a woman who does not wish to be raped.β
then something in his face shifts, like a switch has been flipped. you heave out a breath, anchoring yourself to the wall.
but he does nothing, only looks down at your cowering figure with pitiful disgust. βiβm not a raper.β
βof course, you are. thatβs just your kind.β you spit, regaining your confidence. βitβs in your nature.β
βmy kind? iβm no knight, pup. meryn trant beats helpless girls so iβd wager heβs raped his fair share, too. but i only take pleasure from drawing blood with steel.β he talks through his teeth, his shoulder-length hair falling between the two of you like curtains.
βyouβre still a man,β you say, barely above a whisper. βyouβre all the same. my mother always told me to assume every man means to hurt me, because most of them will.β
a sort of sadness or something similar dashes across his features and for a second you believe the hound, one of westerosβ most feared men, might actually be capable of empathy. then his eyes turn back to their usual sourness and your face stares back at you in their reflection.
βif you live by that rule, you will get hurt, pup.β he returns to his full height, taking one step back. βto assume the worst is no way to survive.β
βyouβre a hateful man,β you tell him. βthatβs why youβre so at home here.β
βyouβll be thankful for my hate when a time comes that trant or worse gets their hands on you, and believe me, there is far worse than trant.β he leans close again. βbut heβs no man, and heβs less of a knight than me.β
you fidget under his stare, cringing when his hot breath licks at your neck.
βand hereβs another token of wisdom, donβt ever fight back, βcause then youβre showing him how strong you are.β he retracts from you, still smirking. βand theyβll always be stronger than you.β
you consider him for a fleeting moment, your apprehension beginning to dwindle. βthe queen will be wondering where i am.β
you push past him. he does not follow you this time.
βyouβre dying.β you speak the words monotonously, dead-faced and bleak.
he grunts, dragging himself up the cliff side. his weight slips down again and he growls, clutching at his leg where a spur of bone spears through its skin. βaye, unless thereβs a maester hiding behind that rock, iβm done.β
you ought to swish your skirts and do a pirouette, this is the best thing thatβs happened to you for some time. βkilled by a woman,β you smirk, watching him struggle. βyouβve no idea the joy that brings me.β
βiβm not dead yet.β he groans, clenching his teeth as blood continues to seep from his wounds. βbut if youβd like to hurry things along, i wonβt stop you.β
βiβd rather you went slowly.β you deadpan, kneeling beside him. his injuries are grisly, and if they donβt take him soon, mountain lions or vultures will.
βyouβre a bitter little bitch arenβt you, pup?β even now he can still muster irritancy. βall these months, iβve kept you fed and watered, and this is the thanks i get.β
βi didnβt ask you to do any of it.β you remind him, making yourself comfortable whilst he moans in agony. βiβm only here cause you wanted a woman to keep you in warm company.β
βand youβve not even been good for that.β he rasps, glancing over at you. βi shouldβve had you the night of the blackwater. yeah. . . i shouldβve fucked you bloody.β
before, a statement like that wouldβve rocked you. now you feel nothing. βnot a raper, he says.β
βi shouldβve fucking raped you.β he spits, then lets out a throaty groan when the soil beneath him shifts, causing his leg to move.
βi know what youβre trying to get me to do,β you stand, looking down at him. he lets out a whimperish sound and it delights you. βiβm not going to end your suffering. killing you would be a mercy.β
βyou know you want to.β he taunts, big brown eyes gazing up at you. he almost looks soft. βhow many times have you thought about it?β
βoh, i want nothing more.β you crouch down and reach for his belt, plucking the bag of silver that was fastened to it. he goes for you out of instinct, trying to swipe the bag. βyou wonβt be needing this.β
and you step over him, gravel crunching beneath your feet as you make haste to catch up to the tall woman.
βkill me.β he pleads, armour chinking against the ground. βkill me!β
you leave him there, leaving his fate to the gods. or the mountain lions. it doesnβt make a difference to you.
last night was long but the north prevailed. arya stark killed the night king, and with him, his army of fallen soldiers finally fell again.
you stand next to sansa stark, a dear childhood friend. around you, people celebrate the victory over mead, stew and women. theon greyjoy and lyanna mormont were lost to the battle, amongst many others. their losses weigh heavy, and itβs obvious that people are finding comfort at the bottom of an alehorn.
a little ways ahead, at an empty table, sits the man you left for dead; a jug to himself, and two empty bowls. βi left him to die.β
from your peripheral you see her head turn rather sharply. βwho?β
βsandor clegane.β you tell her, his name leaving an aftertaste worse than the strongest wine in your mouth. it almost feels like vulgarity to speak it. βhe begged me to kill him, i didnβt.β
βsandor clegane begged you to kill him? you lost me at the word βbeggedβ.β she snorts, sipping from her cup.
you smile. it would sound pretty alien to somebody who wasnβt there. βhe was already dying, he just wanted me to end it quickly.β
sansa nods. βwhy didnβt you?β
you finally tear your eyes from the man, blind to your gaze. βdo you remember how much you loathed joffrey?β
she nods a yes.
βwhen he was dying, had he asked you to finish him and spare him the misery of death, would you have?β
sheβs silent, then shakes her head no.
you turn back to him, and a pair of brown eyes glare back at you. your heart lurches and you harden your stare, lifting your cup to take a drink.
βheβs seen you.β sansa murmurs, hiding her mouth behind her cup. βi assume you have not spoken.β
βno,β you swig generously from your wine, then pass her your empty cup. βi intend to remedy that.β
he watches you approach, not blinking and unmoving. you settle down opposite him and take his alehorn from his grip, helping yourself to the jug. you pour what remains of it, then take a greedy slurp, deliberate and loud.
βi have a question.β you clear your throat and slide the empty alehorn back toward him. he catches it, eyeing you with an unreadable expression. βare you immortal?β
βfucking hope not.β he gruffs, waving down a serving girl.
you smirk. βitβs just, iβm pretty certain i left you for imminent death.β
βaye, i hadnβt forgotten.β he grumbles, snatching a jug from the girl.
βand you survived the army of the dead.β you rest your chin in your palm. βit seems to me that youβre hard to rid of.β
βdoes that sadden you?β he asks, rhetorical.
βa little.β you humour.
he offers you another drink, you decline. βi hope you made use of that silver.β
βi made more use of it than you would have.β
he looks up at you and chuckles. βyouβve changed, little pup. it used to be you couldnβt look at me β out of fear, out of hatred.β
βi still hate you.β you smile, tilting your head. his gaze flits to follow yours. βbut iβve seen worse since you.β
he straightens in his seat, chewing at his lip. βbeen bedded yet?β
βas it so happens, i have.β you fold your arms. you knew heβd bring it up eventually.
βbroken in rough, were you?β
you squint at him, jaw ticking. βdoes it matter?β
he holds your hard stare for a second. βno.β
what you donβt tell him, is that it was him who you dreamt of the night you were taken. that you spent its entirety wondering if he lived.
when you knocked on his door, which took courage and much of it, you didnβt wait long enough for it to open and started to take your leave.
βlittle pup,β he leaned against the doorframe. βcome to finally finish me?β
βsomething like that.β
what a sight, you twitching and writhing above him in the low candlelight. his massive palms curve around your rolling hips where they squeeze, anchoring you to his crotch.
heβs gained weight since you last saw him, his stomach soft with pudge. his thighs make for thick cushioning under your hind and you mewl, fingers nipping at his belly as he drags your clit against the salt and pepper curls at his cockβs base.
a man of his size would be well-endowed, wouldnβt he? the guy is hung like a horse, and the moment you speared yourself onto him it felt as though you were being ruined for the first time again.
you like him like this. for one, this is the longest heβs gone without imprecating you. but mostly, youβre in control for once.
and he looks devastating beneath you. a crude sheen coats his cheeks and forehead, glistening against the uneven surface of his scar. his brows are furrowed, pupils blown to the point his eyes look black, and his nostrils flare with each staggered gasp for breath.
a groan rips from his throat, raw and croaky. the wiry hairs of his chest seem to stand to attention, soaking the cotton of his undershirt. sweat catches in the stubble of his thick neck, teeth gritted in a snarl.
your hips stutter at the sight of him, snapping wildly. his hands alternate between bouncing and grinding you down onto him, skin slapping skin and the stench of sex filling the room.
the gape of your cunt as she stretches to accommodate him is immense and it aches beautifully, clinging to him like a sheath would a sword. every so often he knocks against your cervix, jolting you above him. you allow a moan to escape you, nails cutting into his chub.
with ease heβs able to reach around your waist with two large hands, guiding you along every ridge and vein. he flexes inside of you as you fuck yourself on his cock, pulsating around him.
nothing about it is loving or caressive or attentive. he wonβt rock his hips or make effort to please you. he hasnβt kissed you or asked how you like it and only touches you when your pace slows. he seldom even makes a noise.
all it is, is two people chasing the same thing. a good fuck.
and gods, is it good. raw and ravenous and filthy. tooth and claw.
a frantic pant bursts from your lungs and you rut against him like something animalistic has taken you. intense pleasure starts to blossom in your stomach and your back arches, then a warm hand cups the back of your neck where it tilts your head down, forcing you to look where youβre connected.
βyouβre fucking falling apart.β he drawls, slurred. you jerk away from his grip, shoving him away so he falls back into the pillows with a lazy grin.
all those years of pent up hatred, brewing and festering, igniting ever fibre of your beings, finally erupts when you both go rigid. you stiffen atop him, mouth falling open into a silent scream. a low growl reverberates through him and you feel it in your core, his fingers biting into your thighs as he dumps his load within you.
he twitches and you groan, lifting yourself off him and collapsing onto the mattress. your pussy aches at the sudden loss, your loins sore and burning. you peer down at the stickiness between your thighs and the red that curdles with the cream.
a grating chuckle irks you then and you sit up, scanning the room for something to clean yourself with.
βso i got to fuck you bloody after all.β
βi fucked myself bloody,β you grumble, rising on quivering legs. βyou just laid there.β
βaye,β he watches you, amused. βand still you struggle to walk.β
βitβs been a while.β you parrot back, wincing as you wipe yourself with a spare sheet.
βno wonder you didnβt kill me,β he carries on, eyes closed and arms crossed. βi knew you wanted it as much as me.β
you scoff at that. βdonβt flatter yourself.β
βi donβt need flattery when itβs my seed that drips from your cunt, little pup.β
Based on the "turn-off" request where you described Sandor as wanting children, do you think he actually wants children because he wants to be a father (and by extension, a provider) or for another alternative reason?
iβve always headcanoned him as having a breeding kink, so having children wouldnβt necessarily be out of paternal yearning, but moreso a longing to impregnate his wife. however, i can see him as wanting to be the provider (bringing home an income and occasionally hunting dinner), so wanting to give his wife children despite no particular desire to be a father, would definitely be something heβd consider to maintain his wifeβs happiness and his role as the man of the house. i also think heβd enjoy having sons and teaching them to fight, wield weapons, and hunt. but personally, i envision him as being a girl dad <3
summary: when the hound escorts you to your chambers after a night of festivities has gone sour, you finally confess to the feelings that have been brewing within you for years.
contains:Β joffrey being a little shit, nothing nsfw but a tad spicier than usual teehee.
a/n:Β inspired by our lord and savior hozier's song of the same title! gif by @qveenofthorns
word count:Β 1.6k
The wine in your goblet remained untouched. Your husband, however, had seemed to have lost count of how many drinks he had downed over the course of the evening. You respected Tyrion and thought of him as the closest thing to a friend you could find in the viperβs nest of Kingβs Landing. And watching him make an ass of himself was proving to be too much to bear. You could feel Lannisters glaring daggers at you from every other direction. Cersei, Joffrey, Tywin; their steely cold eyes bore into you as they continued to wish you and your family dead. So you stood from your seat, the chair scraping loudly against the floor.
βMy Lord,β you called, though it barely came out as a whisper drowned out by the music and festivities. Tyrion hadnβt heard a thing. You repeated yourself, forcing your voice to come out louder.
βYes, wife?β Tyrion slurred, his pupils blown wide and wine dripping down his hand. βYou seem distraught.β
βI am not feeling very well. May I retire to my chambers?βΒ
Tyrion only smiled ear to ear, as if he detested the fact that you felt the need to ask permission to leave. βGo wherever your heart desires, my dear!β
You offered him a sheepish grin in return as you excused yourself and headed towards the corridor, your heels clacking against the stony floors of the Red Keep. You walked briskly, unable to chase away the unnerving feeling that nothing good could come of you being alone in the hall. When Joffrey appeared in your path like a terrible omen you knew you cursed yourself for having been right.Β
βTaking off so soon?β he taunted you just as he had done when you were promised to him. You had hoped his recent engagement to Margaery would have taken his attention off of you. But it seemed he had no shortage of cruelty to dedicate to you. βAre you not worried about offending your king?β
Would he not rest? He had stripped you of your family, taken you from your home and caged you like a bird and still he tormented you further. βForgive me but I have better things to worry about than what a wicked boy king thinks of me.β you said, a quiet fury burning behind your eyes. βWhy do you not concern yourself with the opinion of your fair maiden instead?β
Joffreyβs ice blue eyes widened with shock and indignity. He began to sputter nonsense about him being the king and you nothing but a mangy wolf amongst lions. βI shall have your head on a spike for speaking to me this way!β
βYouβll have to get through me first.β His voice cut through the air like a blade, rough and brimming with the promise of violence. βSheβs had too much wine, no doubt. Now go run off to your mother. Some king you are threatening a defenseless little girl.β
Joffrey tried to muster an insult or threat to fling the Houndβs way, but when he noted the way he towered over his frame like an armored wall, he shrunk back into himself.Β
βThis is far from over, Stark.β he spat the surname as if it were an insult before stomping off back to the party. You barely had time to catch your breath before a large hand cloaked in chainmail rested delicately on your shoulder.
βCome, little bird,β cooed the Hound, βIβll escort you to your chambers.β
You dared not protest, a chill settling into the very marrow of your bones as your mind ran wild thinking of what would happen once Joffrey had time to plan your next form of torture. The Hound trailed behind you like a shadow as you weaved your way through the winding halls. Only candles lit the dim castle corridors, the air growing cold and thick with every terrible thing that had befallen you and your family from the moment you left Winterfell.
βYour teeth are growing sharper.β you heard the Hound say.Β
You stopped in your tracks, turning to meet him. βI beg your pardon?β
βI heard how you spoke to him.β Something akin to pride bloomed on his face as he said it. βYouβre learning to fight back. You will be a fearsome woman to behold soon, little bird.β
βAnd will you still be calling me βlittle birdβ then?β you teased, your lip curling into a smirk. βDoesnβt sound very fearsome, does it?β
βNo, it doesnβt.β he admitted with a chuckle; a rare sight, the Hound laughing, βbut I will call you it regardless.β
You fancied yourself the only person in Kingβs Landing and possibly in the whole of the Seven Kingdoms with the privilege of seeing Sandor Clegane in this state, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. Yes, he was a rough, brutish asshole, but at times he would afford you with glimpses into a softer side of him that he reserved for only you. He was not the dog he thought himself to be, no doubt convinced of his worthlessness by the degrading way in which all those in the capital spoke of him. But those same hands that spilled menβs blood for sport, those same hands carried you back to safety whenever you found yourself in peril.Β
βYouβd be wise not to be looking at me like that, Lady Stark.β Sandor said huskily under his breath, his voice laced with an edge even sharper than usual. Youβd been so lost in thought, you hadnβt realized you were staring. You dared to meet his eyes, finding there an undecipherable mix of emotions you could not name.Β
βVery well, Ser Sandor.β you nodded, suddenly feeling bold. βWould you prefer it if I did not look at you at all?β At that he sucked in a breath, his lips drawing into a tight line.Β
βYou know the answer to that.β he managed to say. You spared a sidelong glance in either direction before gingerly resting your hand on his ironclad forearm. His gaze seemed to soften at that, transfixed by the delicate touch. βAnd you know better than that, little bird.β
βI do not care about what I know,β you said, determination swelling in your chest, βwhat about what I want?βΒ
He shook his head, visibly wrestling with his own dark thoughts.Β
βYou show me too much kindness.β he sighed, disapproving yet reveling in your actions. βIf you keep this up you will find yourself with a dog howling at your door every other night. You canβt afford that; donβt deserve it either. Now, go off to bed, girl.β
You were sick and tired of being lectured about what you could or could not have. For the longest time you had wanted this, wanted him. Now you were older and strong enough to deal with whatever consequences may come of your indulgence. It seemed a small price to pay for the man you knew deep down you loved and who in turn loved you tenfold.
βYou are not a dog, Sandor. You may very well be the only person in this rotten place who deserves even a sliver of my kindness. I would gladly give it all to you.β you confessed. βDo you deny me, Ser Sandor?β
At this the Hound offered only a meek shake of his head. βDo not let me in with no intention to keep me, little bird.β His voice cracked with an air of finality, as if this was his last warning to you before he surrendered fully to the gentleness of your touch.Β
βI have every intention of keeping you.β you replied with equal resolve, your willpower solidifying as you finally gave voice to the desire that had been brewing within you for years. You let your hand travel as if of its own accord, coming to rest atop his heart.Β
βKiss me, Clegane.β you demanded.
A low growl left Sandor before whatever had been holding him in line snapped within him, and suddenly you found yourself pressed up against the cool stone wall, his paw of a hand slipping behind your skull to protect your head. His mouth found its place on the column of your throat, leaving a trail of uncharacteristically tender kisses where he went. Then he was clasping your chin between his forefinger and thumb, drawing you into him as he kissed you dizzy. It was everything you had imagined it would be, except for the fact that it was ending far too soon. You let your hands get lost in the tangled mess of his hair, gently tugging him back towards you but it was of no use.
βYou mean to kill me, do you?β he smirked at you as he smoothed the framing pieces of your hair which had broken free of the braids they had been woven into. βI want to do this right with you, little bird. Thatβll do for tonight.β He placed a ginger kiss atop the crown of your head, his hands still buried in your locks.
You shot him a wicked grin as you pushed open the heavy door to your chamber, drinking in the sight of him under the warm glow of the torchlight. βDream of me tonight, Ser.β
He only cocked his head at you, a mischievous look about him. βIt wouldnβt be the first time.βΒ
Then he turned on his heel, his massive frame growing smaller as he made his way down the hall. You were not sure what force of nature possessed you to do it, but you found yourself running after him. He turned in one swift motion, instinctively catching you when you leapt into his embrace.
βPromise to come back?β you asked, your brow lined with worry and your toes barely touching the ground.
His eyes were full of fondness and longing and something else you dared not name as he craned down to whisper in your ear: βLike a dog at your door, little bird.β
yes, i know that the first few chapter links are broken please refrain messaging me about it hahah Iβve been working on getting the links working again and here they are!! These are all the links up to the most recent chapter. More will be added as the story progresses.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
TAGLIST. If youβd like to be added to the tag list please leave a comment down below.
