#i clutch the images for dear life | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ttsukiimi · 19 days

Text

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ F⍣CK HER ‘TILL SHE SORE!

★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ⎯ He’s not addicted to your cũnt—he swears. He swears even as he’s forced the fourth ōrgasm out of you tonight; and there’s more to come.

★ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 ⎯ gojo x fem!reader, toji x fem!reader, choso x fem!reader, nanami x fem!reader, smut (mdni), tit play, multiple örgasms, size difference (choso), slight còckwarming (nanami), reader referred to as (princess, baby, doll, good girl)

✧･ﾟ𝓖. 𝓢 ✧･ﾟ

Gojo didn’t even know how he even initially found himself inside you—it was like one second he was cuddling closer to you as his eyes glued to the tv, then another your leg was hoisted over his waist as he jerked his hips into you repeatedly. Was it his fault? Had he begged you to let him put just the tip in? Yes.

But you had given in, and that in its own was your mistake.

“Stay still, princess, wanna give it to you good,” he whispered in your ear, the way his shaky breath fanned past your neck causing goosebumps to bloom on your skin. You nodded, though it wasn’t a promise, and tried to take each passionate thrust of his girth he gave to you.

You were clutching the couch pillow for dear life, whining as you felt euphoria rock through you so pleasurably for the umpteenth time that night. The movie playing had long been forgotten—only serving as background noise, and to Satoru a nuisance since the sounds drowned out your heavenly moans.

He huffed into the skin of your neck, determined to now make you louder, and a hot slap landed on your left cheek, effectively coaxing a loud yelp from your lips. “Mh—!”

And you were sensitive by then, his seed dripping from your battered cunt, your body shivering and thighs quivering, but even then he was set on urging one last orgasm out of you.

Or two.

Hell, he couldn’t even promise it wouldn’t be three. But he just needed to stay inside of you.

Satoru’s hands came up from behind you before they latched onto your chest, groping your tits as he muttered lewd words in your ear.

“You like when I fucking play with these pretty tits, hm?” He kissed your shoulder, and you felt a smile form against your skin as the only thing you could let out was a weak whine—too drunk on his dick to speak. Satoru groaned at the sound, his lips finding your pulse point as he spoke.

“Always so dumb once I get inside you,”

✧･ﾟ𝓒.𝓚✧･ﾟ

Choso doesn’t have an exact idea of why he loves being buried inside you so much; perhaps it’s the way you sound, the way you feel, or the way you look—tears in your eyes and all—but he does know that he’d die happy if that meant he was inside you in his last moments.

And he absolutely adores every minute that he is.

Because with how much your greedy cunt is pulsing around him, and your manicured nails are scratching red lines down his back, Choso thinks he’s really found heaven. Right between your legs.

“Baby, slow down, Cho,” you whined, your sight obscured with tears though you could still make out the image of his sculpted body over yours, and he’s so big compared to you.

Sometimes he might forget that—but could you blame him though? Anyone would forget about some mere size difference when inside your addictive pussy, and he proved to be that anyone.

Choso leaned forward, and in the process his hair fell forward, framing both yours and his face. His hands ventured up your body and found their place on your chest, squeezing the meleable flesh.

“‘S okay, you can take it,” he mumbled, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, uncaring of the slight drool dribbling from the side of your mouth. With each thrust the course hairs at his base tickled your clit, stimulating you in a way that felt so good your whole body was quivering with pleasure.

“Just..one more, baby,”

✧･ﾟ𝓝.𝓚✧･ﾟ

Sometimes Nanami finds himself wondering just what you do to him, how you’ve changed him in ways he couldn’t himself in the past years you’ve been together. He can't help but smile when he sees your infectious smile, and he melts when he hears your sweet laugh.

But, above all, you've created an addiction in him. One that he seems to think about every waking moment; even at work, and that’s new territory for him.

What’s worse is that you know. Always teasing him about how pussy drunk he is, how he’d really do anything just to be inside you—not like he’s denying that—but he can’t retaliate with the way the tips of his ears burn pink. So, he’ll prove it.

“Kento, what’re you—“ you cut yourself off with an uneven breath, eyes rolling to the back of your head in tandem with the way he pushes himself into you.

His strong arms are wrapped around you, keeping you in place, but he strangely doesn’t begin to move. The reason being—well, he’s testing himself. His resolve, his patience by not moving a single inch, even while being compressed by your tight warmth.

Which is proving to be a challenge already for Nanami.

“Proving to you that ‘m not—“ he halts, groaning and gritting his teeth as you slightly shift, causing a grin to flourish on your face.

“That you’re not what?” you retort, pushing your hips back onto him, taking him in deeper than he already was. Your hand reaches back and caresses his face, cooing above his lips. “Know you wanna move. ‘M not stopping you either, ken.”

You’re so close to his lips Nanami could move an inch and they’d touch, but he won’t, of course. But…when you’re fucking yourself on his cock, moaning out for him to hear, to tease him, Nanami thinks maybe there isn’t anything to prove.

Maybe he is drunk on your pussy.

✧･ﾟ𝓣.𝓕✧･ﾟ

Toji knows of his slight compulsion towards your pussy. His tendency to always want to be inside is truly something that needs to be studied—because there’s absolutely no way his sex drive should be this significant.

Admittedly, he is aware of his addiction, but will he take any action to try to change his behavior? No. That then becomes your problem to tackle, but you have the perfect solution.

“A what?” Toji mumbled, licking the scar on his lip as he creased an eyebrow upwards in confusion. You were sat on his lap, your arms looped around his neck and you began to speak.

“A Sex ban, Toji.” you attempted to suppress your grin when you saw the confusion on his face only deepen, and a big hand came to cup your cheek, forcing you to look at him.

“‘M not for all your little games today, doll. Got a mission tomorrow and y’know what that means.” he sighed, his free hand holding your waist, slowly sliding to the waistband of your shorts and beginning to pull them down.

“But, really baby, we—you need a break.” you protested, but just couldn’t counter back with the way his rough and thick fingers were already playing with your folds, gathering your essence.

Quickly, his lips were on yours and that shut you up, which gave him time to free himself from his sweats and enter you in one, swift motion.

He wasted no time in holding your hips and bouncing you up and down on his cock, a smug smirk on his lips as he looked at the way your eyes rolled back in pleasure. You weren’t one to talk about a sex ban when you could hardly even let him go on a mission for more than 2 days without complaining about how much you missed him and his magic dick.

“Now ya just be quiet and take what I give you, yeah?” he breathed in your ear as his big hands groped your tits, fingers playing with your hardened nipples. The pleasure coursed throughout your body so deliciously, already causing your thighs to begin quivering and your pussy pulsed around him, greedy to suck him dry.

“Good girl,”

7K notes · View notes

goodbird1 · 4 months

Text

My firecracker

Alastor x fem reader

Word count: 634

Summary: Charlie learns about Alastor wife.

Warnings: mention of death and murder (please tell me if I miss any)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~🌹🥀🌹~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alastor stood on a balcony overlooking the city. The hotel was celebrating for some reason or another he didn't particularly care. Reaching into his coat pocket he pulled out a locket. Unclasping it reveals an image of a woman.

“I thought doing this would make me feel better in some way, or at least dull the pain for the time being” Alastor began, looking down at the locket. “It was foolish of me to think that would happen. It's happening all over again, and I don't think I have a chance to see you again.”

Tears started swelling in his eyes. Quickly pulling out a handkerchief and wiping them away.

“You know I always took you as someone who likes entertainment and parties are pretty entertaining” Charlie said coming out on the balcony.

“Oh I'm just getting some fresh air, it's far too stuffy in there” Alastor replied, shoving the locket back in his coat. Not before Charlie notices.

“What's that?” Charlie said, reaching out.

Instinctively Alastor slapped Charlie's hand away, holding the locket even closer now. Towering over her with a cruel look on his face, he saw the fear in her eyes. Normally he'd relish in it but this was no sight he wanted to see on charlie. Signing he pulled out the locket again shifting it through his fingers.

“My apologies dear,” he said, turning back to the city. “I didn't mean to snap, it's a locket with my wife's photo in it, it's the only thing I have left of her.”

“You never told me you were married,” Charlie said, coming to Alastor's side.

“I don't much like to talk about it” Alastor signed.

“Can I ask, what was she like?” Charlie questioned.

“Oh she was wonderful” He began. “She was a firecracker, always 3 steps ahead of everyone. Beat you in any game and once you thought you had the upper hand she'd pull the rug right out from your feet. She was kind and considerate, and believed in second chances. She'd taught me that. And oh she could sing like an angel. I would play the piano, she would sing and the world would fade away.”

“She sounds amazing, you know maybe if you redeem yourself you can see her again in heaven!”

“Haha oh darling, anybody worth knowing comes down here!” Alastor said between laughs. “She would always tell me she would rather burn in hell with me than sit alone in heaven. Did you know that our fathers decided to put us together to ‘contain our unnatural behavior’? And she came up with a plan to kill both our families and then burn the evidence! Oh it was then I knew she was the one.”

Memories started flooding back when they were both alive and then both died. But this time they didn't hurt so much now.

“What happened to her?” Charlie asked, bring Alastor back to reality.

“The first or the second time?” Alastor joked trying not to spiral.

“Both?” She whispered hesitantly.

“The first time she was in a tree, mistaken for a bird and shot down the fall was what killed her. The second time…” Alastor choked clutching the locket for dear life. Clearing his voice he started again. “Well you don't make it as far as I have without making a few enemies. They sent her back in pieces.”

“That's awful!” Charlie exclaimed.

“No need to worry they won't hurt anyone now.” Signing, he stepped away from the edge. “Come on dear, let's join the party.”

“Hey Al, can I ask one more thing?”

“And what would that be?”

“Do you think she would have liked the hotel?”

Turning fully around to face Charlie. A kind smile across his face with a hand reaching out for her.“Oh she would love it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~🌹🥀🌹~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#alastor #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #hasbin hotel #x reader fic #fanfic

3K notes · View notes

burnyouwithacigarettelighter · 10 months

Text

GUINEA PIG ───

jonathan crane ✧𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “I think we most fully understood each other when once I tried to kill him with a kitchen knife.” — ‘South and West’, Joan Didion

pairing. switch!jonathan crane x professor!reader

summary. you and your dear friend, jonathan crane, have an odd relationship: he experiments on you, you experiment on him. one day, you experiment your aphrodisiac on him.

warnings. swearing, use of aphrodisiac & fear toxin, oral sex (m), unprotected sex, creampie, p in v, mention of death, murder, drugs, multiple orgasms, slight breeding kink, face fucking, dubcon(?) SMUT UNDER THE CUT!

word count. 6.1k

a/n. the enemies to friends to fucking pipeline is sooo real and i love it. BTW! this is really self indulgent and again, i’m a beginner to writing smut so pls don’t judge😭 the beginning is also oddly plotty, so i apologize for that.

You and your colleague, Jonathan Crane, have a harmonious, albeit slightly sick and twisted, relationship.

Your repertoires, opposite in every way, complete one another like you were made to match. You are messy, frenzied, intimate; he is neat, calculated, distant. He is impatient, histrionic, stubborn. You are tolerant, deadpan, submissive.

This is an odd, good-cop bad-cop dynamic you’ve built, but it works. Your traits uphold the order you’ve built around yourselves; you allow each other to function.

Who ever said something so codependent, so parasitic, would fall apart? That it was dangerous, destructive? Everyone, but in your case, it has been anything but.

These are the simple rules of your relationship: he experiments on you, you experiment on him. This partnership came to bloom when, after years of competing to be the “better” psychology professor at Gotham University, he sent you a gift that sprayed with you with fear toxin, and you baked him a cake that knocked him out for 24 hours following, heart rate so low he could’ve been mistaken as dead.

“Fucking - hell,” You murmured under your breath, stumbling halfway across Gotham City to locate Crane’s absurdly lavish condo in the Diamond District, barely able to keep yourself upright.

You were being visually assaulted by dozens of images, all your phobias no matter big or small, dancing across your senses. Spiders crawled all over your body, you saw yourself about to step off a steep, snowy cliff, you felt yourself suffocate as you were buried to death in a casket. It was utter torture, and you would have to endure it until you found Crane.

You must’ve looked like one of those tweaking drug addicts from down in the Narrows, shivering, sweating, and rubbing all over your body to remove some of the “spiders” taking over your body. The terror was settling into you, into your spine like a terribly malignant disease.

At last, you found the apartment building, blearily snuck in behind a drunk couple, and scanned the mail boxes until you found J. CRANE: 525.

You headed up the elevator, grasping at the walls for dear life, feeling that growing, unmistakable sense of dread start to take over your mind. You felt like you were going mad, now, not just afflicted with something that made you look like it.

When you finally got to his door, it was left open a crack, and you welcomed the small mercy of Crane’s overarching narcissism: he didn’t lock his door, often, because most days he felt more invincible than fucking god.

“Crane!” You shouted, clutching at your head and staggering into his large apartment. “Crane!” you repeated, this time more desperate, more fearful than anything.

However, your deepest fear, at the moment, had come true. You stepped into his kitchen, and found the man laying on the floor unresponsive.

“Fuck me,” you cursed. You’d sent the man home with the cake twelve hours ago, when he took the half-day off from GSU, and you came home from your after-class tutoring hours just moments ago.

You’d opened the mystery package on your front porch promptly, and you found yourself having been gassed with a compound that made you see every little thing you were afraid of. Immediately, you’d known it was Crane; the man’s pet specialty was fear.

As for you, you wanted your… gift, to serve a reminder to him that he should not overstep your boundaries, your territory, as the psychology professor who was there first. If knocking him out was a little bit mad, he was bordering insanity for the toxin he poisoned you with.

Even so, your threat was an empty one. You weren’t counting on the man to even eat the cake - hell, you’d never seen the man consume anything but straight black coffee.

You couldn’t judge a book by its cover, you know now, and laid there on the couch of his apartment, waiting for the twelve hours to be over. Waiting for Crane, the fucking madman, to wake the hell up, blaming him for the predicament despite your very obvious involvement in it.

You breathed in and out, harried and rapid fire as you tried to focus, tried to block out the horrific things you were seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting.

(Your eyes are swarmed, viscerally, by a grotesque hallucination of your family burning to death; you hear them cry out, voices interrupted when they’re fire gets to their lungs; you smell their death, the smell of flesh burning, how the smoke chokes you — you taste their blood on your tongue, how tender a raging fire makes charred flesh.

Tender, you think on your choice of words again, and almost throw up.

What have you done, you think, and what is going through that fucked up head of yours, Crane?)

You tried to ground yourself, tether your lost mind back to Earth. You’re sitting in a field in Northwestern Ireland, you said to yourself, inhaling. Up ahead is the beach; water is crashing on the rocks. You exhaled, the wind tastes like salt, and it is just you and I, here together. It is only I and you, here, together.

Like so, 12 hours passed. Not so much passed — that word gave the connotation the hours slipped past you, the way a peaceful stream of water does; no, more accurately, it dragged by, like when an arm slips out of the ambulance cot on its way to the emergency vehicle, and drags on the concrete. The EMT’s don’t notice what’s making their trip so hard, so slow, until the hand is rubbed raw and bloody.

You repeated that mantra so many times you were starting to get queasy when you thought the words “you’re sitting in a field..” but nonetheless, the string of words kept you sane.

Sane enough, at least - you weren’t sure you’d be the same blissful person you were yesterday. Sure, you were always a little bit… unorthodox? Petty? Competitive enough to bake so many drugs into a cake your opposing professor knocks out?

But, with this — this being drugged by Crane — made you feel a piece of yourself break away. There would be no more of your life lived without knowing how fearful, well, fear, is. It's like discovering the Boogeyman and never being able to stop checking under your bed; the paranoia moves into your head and never leaves.

Crane began stirring, and your eyes opened as soon as you heard the noise. Surprisingly enough, however, you were no longer being hammered with the hallucinations that had been distressing you just half a day ago.

Had it been the mantra? The near-prayer you now swore was etched on your heart?

“Fucking…” Crane said, getting up off the floor. He was clutching his head, eyes squinted, body hunched and tense. Looks like spending half a day on the floor wasn’t the most comfortable place to sleep, but you didn’t give a fuck — atleast he was sleeping. If you had to be mentally destroyed by his toxin, you’d best believe you were taking the couch.

“Why - why are you here? What the hell did you do to me?” He said after noticing you, voice raspy. He hadn’t had anything to drink or eat in a while, after all.

“I could say the fucking same for you,” You muttered, giving him a pointed look. “You - what the fuck did you spray me with?”

Immediately, a twisted grin was bared on Crane’s lips, despite his fatigued demeanor. “Did you like it? My fear-toxin,” he preened, like the winning kid at a school science fair.

You rolled your eyes, and before you could control your tendencies, you’d swung back and then socked him straight in the face.

Crane double-backed, looking terribly affronted, as if he hadn’t sent you the gas knowing how it would affect you. “Ow,” is all he said, face contorting oddly around the pain.

“Yeah, “ow”. Fuck you, Crane.”

Crane raised a brow. “You’re acting like you didn’t feed me a poisoned cake!” He said incredulously.

“It wasn’t that poisoned,” you bit out, teeth gritted. “Not so poisoned I was hallucinating my family dying for twelve hours straight.”

“Ah, thanatophobia, not really one of my favourites—“ Crane started, like he was losing himself in a romantic daydream, before snapping back to reality. “Did you just say twelve hours?”

“Twelve hours for me. Twenty-four for you.” You said, reveling in how panicked he looked.

“I — that’s long enough for me to be killed a hundred times over,” he mumbled under his breath. “What the fuck did you put in that cake?”

“I never expected you to eat it, Crane. You’re fucking skin and bones, I thought you’d just throw it out.”

“What did you put in the cake?” he repeated.

“Ugh,” you sunk into the couch, “some amytal, zolpidem. Some melatonin. I didn’t measure, okay, and again, I wasn’t counting on you eating it.” You didn’t know why you had this urging feeling to respond to him, to humor his jabs, his dumb fucking theatrics, but you did anyway.

“Some amytal? Some zolpidem? Some melatonin? Jesus fucking christ - is that what you wanted? To kill me?” He was leaning down, face inches away from yours now.

You pushed him away, disgust on your features clear as day. “Shut the fuck up. I’m not some sociopathic fear-freak like you, Crane. I don’t mix compounds in my creepy little office with the thought of drugging out my fellow professor in mind. It was just an empty threat.”

He let out a disbelieving laugh, “Mixing barbiturates and medications into a cake sounds like an empty threat to you?”

“You know what?” You said brightly, getting up off the couch, “I don’t have to argue with you. I came to get my cure, woke up having cured myself.” Then, you burst out the door, fury rolling off you in waves, and you left.

There was something about the incident, however, that seemed to intrigue Crane to no end. Soon enough, he began entering your office during your breaks, asking to have a chat. Or, he’d walk in during your lessons, forcing you two in the hall alone. Sometimes, he’d even wait for you after school, dozing off in front of your classroom and waiting for you to exit your office.

You couldn’t tell what was making Crane so interested, but he was hanging off you and your every word like some lovesick puppy.

You, on the other hand, also couldn’t get Crane out of your head. Certainly not for some weird, fucked up reason like his, but because of what he had created. A lot of people doubted his intelligence, mostly because of his obsession on things nobody really cared about, but that obsession made way to the destructive fear-toxin you’d inhaled, and it was seriously unlike anything you’d ever experienced, hell, even read about. It was a brand new creation, and downright deadly.

Your interest in the man was more so on… keeping him in check. As rivals did. But his was on how you’d breezed past the effects of his toxin in just twelve hours. He’s expected you to go half mad, honestly. Your threat was empty… his was, decidedly, not.

By the end of the next week following the incident, you two began eating lunch together, asking for joint classes, and spending nights over at each other's places. Not in that way, of course — your way was like a group of scientists having a forever eureka, because your minds fit like perfect puzzle pieces.

Your intrigue had met his intrigue, and it felt natural, coming to a united front like that. You found you had more in common than you thought, something you should’ve found out about a long time ago, 3 ½ years kind of long time ago. Apart, you two were volatile; angry, spewing threats, attempting murder on the other. Together, however, you were absolute perfection: productive, well-mannered, motivated.

Now, fast-forward coming on two years since the incident. You and Crane - now, Jonathan, have been inseparable since that time. You two were close, closer than siblings or children and parents or couples; you felt like the same person that had been split into two. Being together was the only thing that felt right, being back at the origin, like being at home.

Fuck’s sakes, you did have the same home — you’d moved in together. Not to his, nor yours, but to a big house you bought on the outskirts of Gotham, with a big yard and an even bigger lab in the basement. It was like a scientist's amusement park.

Maybe it - this relationship of yours - was codependency. But maybe it was utter genius: your careers had both never seen so many accomplishments until you and Jonathan came together. Partly because you had a greater inspiration when coupled with the other, but, mostly because you had a body to test on during preliminary trials.

Creating things, like the fear-toxin, required human testing, and finding a way to get that done always slowed Jonathan down. Since finding you, however, it’d been a breeze.

You offered yourself up readily, given Jonathan would do the same. And, besides, Jonathan had never been worried about you and his toxin very much — after that first time you took the toxin, you could easily find yourself out of its effects. You were the only person he’d ever encountered who could do this, and it was downright fascinating. He wanted to keep you, see how that strong little mind of yours worked overtime to fight his toxin off.

You, on the other hand, rarely tested anything like that on Jonathan. Your interests lied elsewhere: what smells activate the human mind to recall memories, what are ways to accurately fight off drugs like GHB — all mental stimulation.

That, however, changed one evening, when you had been brewing up a serum for the past few weeks. You’d gotten to the point in creation where you needed to test on someone, and observe the effects.

“Jonathan,” you called out, looking down at your notes. The man in question was grading assignments for the psychology class you taught — now, in joint lessons more often than not — sitting at a desk a few metres away from you in the lab.

“Jonathan!” you repeated louder this time, looking up from your notes.

“What?” He shouted back, still hunched over on the ungodly amount of assignments he needed to mark.

“Come here. I need to test something on you.” You said, nonchalant.

That, however, piqued Jonathan’s interest to no end: you hadn’t tested anything on him in nearly a year. It hurt, a little, to test you endlessly and have nothing to give in return - so this, no matter what it was, Jonathan would take in stride.

Jonathan nodded vehemently, “Okay.” He then dropped all he’d been doing on the desk and made his way over, before sitting in the chair next to you. You made quick work, tying his arms and legs to the chair like he’d done to you so many times before. He watched you work, completely enraptured in how you looked while experimenting.

“So,” He said, tearing his sticky gaze off of you, “what’re you pumping me full of?”

You sat back in your desk chair and scratched your cheek, a little unsure how to say this. “Well, I created a serum that, once injected, would lower or lose all inhibitions of the victim. They’d be completely malleable, agreeable, if you just, um,” you fanned yourself, feeling a little too close to the man in front of you, room feeling incredibly warm.

“Just what?” He pried, leaning back in his chair.

You exhaled shakily, “if you just promise to - to provide relief to them. Sexual - relief.”

Jonathan let out an incredulous laugh. “You made a working aphrodisiac?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t exactly — I don’t even know if it works, for sure. If you don’t want to- take it, then you don’t have to.” You offered up weakly.

“How d’you get it out of the system?” He said instead, ignoring your words and picking up the needle you had ready for him on your worktable, which was filled with a thick, pink liquid.

You flushed. “You, um, help the victim relieve themselves, until the feeling is gone.”

Jonathan looked up at you, a sly smirk on his lips. “And you were going to give this to me?”

You turned away, face red, exasperated. “I told you, you don’t have to take it if you don’t want to.”

“And let you pleasure some random guy you snatched off the street? No way,” he said, before you heard a familiar prick, small whine leaving Jonathan’s mouth.

You spun back around so fast you thought you got whiplash. “Jonathan, wait—“ you said, alarmed. You were really, seriously, considering not giving the aphrodisiac to him — it would disrupt the careful balance you and he had built over the past years.

You were afraid that if he took the serum, and let you, for lack of a better word, get him off, you wouldn’t be able to look at him without remembering him needy, hot and bothered, calling your name out like it was the only word he knew.

He’d done it anyway, though. And now, you both just had to get through this… experiment.

Quickly, you grabbed your pen and notebook, ready to approach this scenario as detached and clinically as possible, ignoring the pulsing need in your insides as you saw Jonathan’s face slowly contort into a warm, heavy-lidded lustful one.

“How do you feel, Jonathan?” You said, standing further away from him so he couldn’t so much as feel your body heat on him.

“I…” Jonathan blinked rapidly, licking his lips, looking you up and down. “Warm. I just feel… warm.” He readjusted in the seat, unable to sit still. “And - kind of, tingly? Like I - well, I don’t know…”

You noted his words, as well as some of your own observations: his pupils were dilated, so much so the crystalline blue of his eyes were merely slivers, his lips were pursed, plump, and he was pink all over; pink cheeks, pink ears, pink neck. He was talkative, loose-lipped and a little out of it.

You inhaled, then exhaled, before starting the next phase of the experiment. “Jonathan, how do you feel when I touch you here?” You said, raising the back of your hand to caress his cheek.

Jonathan was affected almost immediately, eyes shutting tight. “It feels,” he said breathily, leaning into your touch, “ah… nice. Good.”

You nodded, promptly pulling away as soon as he’d finished his sentence. Subject enjoys physical touch. Jonathan then peered up at you, looking slightly… disappointed?

You shook yourself, getting back on task. “How do you feel now?” You pried, noticing he looked far more affected than before.

Beads of sweat were dripping from his forehead, making his wavy brown hair stick to his skin. He was breathing heavily, and, when you had touched him, he was extremely warm, like he had a fever.

“I’m, I…” Jonathan trailed off, eyes shutting, shaking his head. “Mmm… my head feels — fuzzy,” he bit out raspily.

“Okay. Good. It's exactly as I thought,” you murmured, continuing to scratch down notes.

You ignored him for a few minutes, writing up a list of side effects and observed results of the aphrodisiac. Then, your gaze drew back to him, who had been focussing intently on you the whole time.

“Jonathan?” you called out quietly, seeing his dazed expression. “Talk to me.”

Jonathan shuddered, leaning forward in the chair, head hanging low, “My - my body’s, hnngh… it feels— feels weird.” He bit his lip, face screwed up and tense. “I’m warm all over…”

His shoulders were hunched in, and he was trembling. You lifted a hand up to his head, petting him softly, carding your fingers through his hair.

“Ah…” Jonathan squeaked out at your touch, face going slack, “I feel like I need you to - to…” he sighed exasperatedly, “I need you.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek conflictedly. On one hand, you needed to finish up a few more tests, meaning Jonathan would be teased - or tortured, depending on how fast the aphrodisiac was affecting him - a little longer. On the other hand, he was already a breathy mess, begging for your touch. For you.

“Fuck,” you murmured, turning away from the man who’s eyes were practically rolling into the back of his head at the way you tugged at his locks. “No, no,” you fought your internal struggle. You would not give in to his pleas - you would finish this experiment.

“Okay. Okay.” you said to no-one but yourself, extracting your hand from his velvet soft hair. “Let’s be professional about this. Jonathan, I’m going to take your clothes off, but you can’t move, and you can’t touch me, okay?”

Jonathan’s breathing became more labored as you spoke, and you swore you could see desperate tears filling his eyes. “I can’t- I can’t touch you? But… but why not?” He was practically whining for you.

“Because, Jonathan, it wouldn’t be beneficial to the experiment.” You didn’t look your partner in the eye, because his complete and total change in behavior had you feeling, quite frankly, as warm as him.

You continued by undoing the restraints on his arms and legs, and his sharp intakes of breath as your fingers brushed past his skin didn’t slip past you. Not at all.

Firstly, you undid the man’s white button-up shirt slipping it past his flushed torso. Jonathan’s skin was actually pink and warm all over, and he was breathing heavily now, gripping the chair so tight his knuckles were white.

“Are you okay, Jonathan?” you asked absently, as you began unbuckling his belt and slipping down his fly.

Jonathan’s breath hitched in his throat, and he didn’t answer you, biting down on his lower lip to stop any desperate moans from escaping him.

You finally finished undressing your partner, then redid his restraints, before you stepped back to see him fully. Jonathan was shivering, faint tear tracks on his pink cheeks, head cocked back.

“It’s just - one, or two more tests, Jonathan.” You murmured quietly, kneeling down in front of him.

Your hands pressed flat on his thighs, rubbing him up and down, grazing your fingers lightly on his feverish skin. You had to regularly ground yourself, stop yourself from inching up to the poor, untouched tent in his boxer shorts.

Above you, you could hear Jonathan let out a low groan, “Ah, hnng— please,” he called out to no-one in particular.

“Does that - feel good, Jonathan?” You ask, getting back up on your feet. His desperate groans were getting to you now, how needy his little keens were.

“So - good,” he panted. “Your— you, I want— need, I need…” he trailed off, babbling, lost to the pleasure of your touch.

“Jonathan, if I… touched you more, would you do anything for me?” You said finally. The invention of the aphrodisiac was intended to sway someone's motivations, make them bend to your will. Sure, there was that added sexual aspect, but it was created with less… pleasurable intentions.

“Anything, anything at all,” he said deliriously, rolling his head around. “Jus’… just need you to- touch me.”

“Would you give yourself fear-toxin, Jonathan?”

“Yes! Yes, just — please… please! Stop asking me— questions… I need you so fucking bad, ah…”

“Jesus,” you said. Your aphrodisiac was stronger than you thought. You were satisfied, however, with the results of it. The first trial was a success, and you saw how you could use this on anyone - even people in particular positions of power, and get them to do your bidding. Quite helpful, indeed.

Now, you needed to… get Jonathan out of this state. By, ah, relieving him.

You had decided to do this, to test him, so you had to be responsible and help ease him out of this experiment. Quickly, you stripped your own clothing, even your underwear, before undoing the restraints on his arms and legs.

Jonathan’s eyes widened as he watched you undress. “Are you - are you… gonna t—touch me? Now? Please?” He practically begged, almost drooling at the sight of your naked body.

“Mhm,” you said, a tremble in your voice. “Gon’ help you get out of this.”

Then, you climbed onto Jonathan’s lap, shutting your eyes as you felt his hard cock within his boxer shorts slide between your legs deliciously.

He let out a guttural groan as your weight pressed down on him, feeling your wetness soak his shorts. That measly piece of fabric was all that was keeping him from entering your plush, velvet folds, and he was going practically insane at the feeling.

“M’god,” Jonathan whined out, leaning his sweaty head on your shoulder. “Y’feel so, a—ah, good…”

You couldn’t help the breezy laugh that made its way out of you. “I haven’t even touched you yet, Jonathan, and you’re already so worked up,” you whispered in his ear, hot breath fanning on his warm skin.

“P-pleeeease,” He begged, slowly grinding into you. Jonathan was barely coherent, mind just focussed on chasing the release he so desperately needed.

You raised a brow, but complied, slipping your warm hands down his boxer shorts and pulling his thick length out. You pumped him lazy, feeling how he writhed under you, tasteful whimpers slipping out of his mouth.

After another second of you stroking him lightly, your thumb grazing past the tip and collected a decent amount of precum, he actually did come, wet hot load spurting upwards on his chest and your face. “Ah - hnngh, oh my — oh my god,” he drooled, jutting into your hand.

It dripped down from your cheek onto your lips, and Jonathan squeezed his eyes shut, losing himself in the pleasure. You swiped a handful of his cream off your face, before covering his still hard, curved cock with it.

“You’re not done, aren’t you?” You said to him quietly, his hips stuttering as you artfully smeared his come on himself. Jonathan was arching into your touch, completely putty in your hands.

“Nuh- no, m’still— still need you, need you so bad.” he whimpered shamefully, hands stuck to your waist.

“Look at you go,” you found yourself cooing, dragging a creamy hand down his equally as creamy chest, your fingernails grazing him. “Let me take care of you.”

Then, you lifted yourself up off his lap, and carefully situated your slit on the tip of his head. “Christ,” you called out as you slid down, “you’re fucking big,”

Inch by inch, you took him, and Jonathan’s eyes were rolling into the back of his head, a string of senseless groans and whines leaving his mouth. “Feels so warm, so so warm,” he choked out at last, looking at you adoringly.

You started to lift out of him, your cunt stinging slightly at the sheer size of his cock, when you felt a heated liquid shoot through you, Jonathan’s knees buckling under your ass.

He’d come, again, even before you could get started. You shook your head incredulously at the terribly horny man beneath you, eyes glazed over in the pure ecstasy he was feeling.

“Stop, fucking — coming,” you scolded, bottoming his cock into you once more, “you’re gonna get me so — ah— fucking - pregnant if you keep coming.”

“Sorry,” Jonathan said sheepishly, burying his head into the crook of your neck. “Can’t help it— you feel so — hnngh — feel so good.”

You rolled your eyes at his words, then focussed on getting a good pace of sliding in and out, your hips rolling deeper and deeper into his own. You were bouncing quickly on his cock, dick-riding him like you’d never done before.

With all other sexual partners you had, they wanted to be all vanilla, always just missionary, going slow until they were close, no sense of creativity or any other wishes that just feeling you. With Jonathan - especially in the state he was in now - you could do whatever you wanted, as long as his cock was in your cunt.

“Good — god,” you screamed out, when Jonathan suddenly gained control over himself and snapped into you, rough hands pinching the flesh of your hips. He rutted into you, hard and fast, for a moment like that continually, before his control melted once more into nothingness, and all he could do was let you take the reins.

“Please— how’re you so — ah, how does your pussy feel so good…” he murmured, trailing off into a high-pitched moan when you pulled out, then just as fast sunk down on him.

Jonathan’s fingers trailed up your body, rubbing at your soft flesh, before they found your breasts, kneading you tenderly. He chanced several licks on both your erect nipples, and you shuddered, tightening around him. Your cunt was sucking him in, devouring his length no matter how big he was, and he could feel how his length was stretching your walls wide open.

“So fucking big.” You panted, arms wrapping around his neck, “fat fucking cock all needy, just me.”

“Jus’… just for you! All - ah, all for you,” Jonathan repeated with a squeak, lips bitten delicately between his teeth.

Your hands trailed all over his body, and as the pleasure was getting to you, making your head dizzy and your thoughts foggy, you bounced down on him and your nails scratched up his back, surely leaving small wounds.

This miniscule amount of pain seemed to amplify Jonathan’s endless pleasure, and you could feel him pumping you full of his come once again, the tip of his dick pressed flush against your cervix. His come made you feel so full, fuller than you already did with his monstrous cock nestled into you, continually rubbing up on the toe-curlingly spongy spot in your cunt every time you pushed him back in.

“Mmf,” Jonathan groaned, pleasure muffling whatever he was was going to say, “m’gonna… gonna get you pregnant,”

“Yeah?” You breathed out, squeezing your eyes shut, “Is that what this needy cock wants? To get my wet cunt full and me pregnant?”

“Yes, yes, hnngh, please, wanna come - wanna come more,” Jonathan cried out.

“‘kay, okay,” you nodded vehemently, “then make this pussy feel good.”

Then, you slid out with a whimper, two loads worth of come spilling out of your worn-out cunt, turning around so your ass would face him, before you sunk back down on him. You were chasing your own pleasure now, the unmistakable feeling rumbling within your lower stomach.

Jonathan was completely fucked out, just a shaking, hot and bothered mess on the sticky wooden chair you’d both occupied, but he still welcomed your warm pussy back on him with open arms. Your folds beat any other cunt he’d ever been in, and he knew nothing, not even his own hand, could match up to how addicting you were, how delectably you took him.

The new angle had you reeling, your hands gripping Jonathan’s thighs for some much-needed support. You were buckling, getting weaker with every bounce, but were still desperate for release. It affected Jonathan too, and he was pressing his face up against your hair, biting down lightly on your shoulder to collect himself despite the earth-shattering pleasure you were inflicting on him.

Your fleshy cunt met his rock-solid cock every moment perfectly, and soon enough your back was arching, head leaning back on Jonathan’s shoulder. That knot in your stomach was tightening, a fire burning within you and begging you not to stop.

Jonathan’s needy hands were coursing all over your body, rubbing on you in all the right places, and when his calloused fingers began pinching and twisting at your sensitive nipples, you saw white. That burning feeling dragged across your entire body, your jaw tensing, and you felt positively fuzzy, pure pleasure destroying all coherent thoughts you’d been having, your mind now focussed on the insane way he made you orgasm.

There was nothing that could compare to how you felt now, this being the hardest you’d orgasmed in your entire life. There was just something about Jonathan — be it how unbelievably big he was, or perhaps the odd tension that surrounded you two for the past few years — that made this experience ten times, no, a hundred times, better.

It was like his dick had been artfully crafted to stretch you out and stuff you full; that thick cock, made just for you.

In place of your weakening strength, Jonathan kept his hand tweaking your breast, and his other hand gripped your hip tightly, helping you bounce up and down on his cock. Thus, the pleasure was maximized by his touch, and you rode out your high like that for a few more long moments.

You stayed there, on his lap panting and drooling, for a few more seconds, before you climbed off of him, grimacing at the loss of his sweet cock in you.

You stood shakily, feeling his come ooze out of your sticky hole, and you were surprised to see that Jonathan was still hard. He was panting, head leaning against the chair, hands and legs trembling, but his dick could probably still pump out another round of come.

You did always wondering how he’d taste, and after seeing how long and thick he was, you wanted to know if his dick could make you cry, too. So, you kneeled down on the cold floor, pulling him by the ankles a little further off the chair, so you could get better access to him, and buried your pretty little head between his shaking thighs.

“What’re you— doing?” Jonathan said blearily, but before he could continue, your soft lips wrapped around him, and your tongue began artfully swiveling his sensitive head.

The loudest moan you’d heard so far was drawn out of Jonathan, and more, similar noises came out of him. It was nonsensical, and unintelligible, but you could tell he was having the time of his life — as if he hadn’t just orgasmed three times prior.

You started slowly, mouth taking his cock until you felt like you couldn’t anymore, before forcing past that point and making yourself take him to the back of your throat. Tears lined the rims of your eyes, your head swimming from lack of oxygen, but you couldn’t help how badly you wanted to hear him whimper and whine out from how good you were servicing him, his pretty groans reaching your ears like music.

You pulled his cock out of your mouth when you felt like you were going to pass out, and then you began lapping up at his cock, sucking and curving your tongue around his long length. You sucked him hard and fast, and then, his hands grappled at your hair.

At this point, you believed the aphrodisiac was wearing off, and Jonathan, now a little more clearheaded, began face fucking you, filling your sweet mouth full with his filthy cock. He couldn’t resist doing so, especially with you looking up at him through your tear-stained lashes, hollowing out your cheeks and gripping his thighs like your life depended on it.

You gagged on him, several times, but he didn’t care, and with a jolted thrust past your swollen lips, he came, squirting all he had left down your throat. You sucked and swallowed every drop of him into your mouth, loving the taste of his salty liquid.

Now, you were both fucked out, beyond tired, the strain on your muscles settling in. Your core had been properly exercised, what with how many times you rutted into Jonathan, and he, similarly, had a strained back with how much he arched into your touch, his aphrodisiac-clouded mind wanting nothing more but to be touched by you.

“Good god, woman,” Jonathan said, collapsing into the wooden chair, which was sticky with sweat, come and your cunt’s soaking wetness. “You could’ve just said you wanted to fuck,”

You panted, dropping down onto the cold floor beneath you and wincing. “We’re — we were, just friends.”

He waved away your words, “We live together, darling. Not quite sure if that's “just” friends.”

You looked up at him, before laughing agreeably. “Felt good though, didn’t it?” A smug grin made its way on your lips, remembering how submissive Jonathan had been, how desperate he’d been just for the slightest bit of touch.

“Amazing,” he said exasperatedly. “But next time, you’re not topping.”

“Next time, huh?” You said brightly, shakily getting up. Jonathan helped you, both of you limping exhaustedly up the stairs to your actual house, where you really should’ve been fucking, instead of the clinical environment of your large basement lab.

Jonathan’s hands found your ass, pulling you flush against him and kneading the flesh roughly. “Why not? Don’t you wanna know how I fuck?” he whispered suggestively into your ear, nibbling at the lobe.

“I think, you’ve still got some aphrodisiac in you, Jon.” you said, laughing breezily.

#jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #batman #sub!jonathan crane #sub!jonathan crane x reader

5K notes · View notes

vampiresfromxenon · 8 months

Text

Kiss It Better

Astarion x gender neutral! Reader/Tav

Around 2.2K words

Tags: Fluff, kissing, blood, soft!(ish?) Astarion, hurt/comfort, angst, 3rd person, no use of y/n

CW: Blood, deep wound on hand, existential thoughts (?)

Summary: After accidentally cutting your hand on your blade, Astarion is the only one in the camp to help you deal with it. You’ve been seeing him for awhile now, but this is the first time you’ve ever seen him actually care. Perhaps he does feel the same way about you…

With the daylight fading, you rest just outside your tent, wiping the blood off of your blade with a damp rag. As you sit there, shining it to perfection, you can’t help but analyze your reflection, thinking about the events that led you to having newer, fresher scars on your face. It’s been a few months since the start of this nightmare, since the start of having these things inside your head. The tadpoles weren't that bad to deal with, but your feelings were worse.

You’ve grown to love all the companions you’ve met along the way, laughing and enjoying their company as you travel across the land, searching for answers, for a cure. You all keep each other safe in one way or another, and while you hate to get too attached, knowing this won’t last forever, you feel as though you found your family, especially since you can’t remember your real one. God, your real family. One you once knew but now have no memory of. Your past is a mystery, and it haunts you, much more than the gnawing idea that you could become a mind flayer at any waking moment.

You want to remember. Oh, so desperately do you want to remember, but you can’t. That is not an option for you. And besides? What good would that do you now? You can only confront the horrors that lie before you. The thought of losing your friends, the thought of losing yourself. The thought of losing… No. You can’t bear the thought of losing him.

You find your heart sinking in your chest at the thought of him turning into a mind flayer. Your chest aches at the thought of where you promised you’d stab him if, Gods forbid, he turns. Looking into his eyes and seeing nothing, no life, no character, but a vessel. A vessel for these wretched things. It was becoming too much to handle. Your body begins to tremble from these false images enveloping your thoughts, these twisted and sickly ideas corrupting your mind for far too long. You’re so distracted by these terrors that you fail to notice the fact that you started to scrub the blade harder, or even more pressing, the fact that you dropped the rag.

In one swift movement, your palm forcibly glides across the blade, drawing both blood from your palm and a string of curses from your mouth. The images disappear, fleeing your mind as you pick up the rag and crush it into the palm of your hand to stop the bleeding. The blade was no longer important in this moment, tossed off to the side for later. You storm into your tent, clutching your hand, searching for any sort of healing potion or power that you could find. Shadowheart and the rest of the camp had left to explore the town for the night, leaving you all to your lonesome, or so you thought.

You sit on a cushion, exasperated and upset with yourself and your doomed existence. Removing the cloth, you take a closer look to see just how bad the wound is, trying to ignore the stinging feeling. Distracted by the blood, you fail to hear a visitor’s light footsteps approaching.

“Oh dear, what happened to you?” A charming voice rings out.

You turn to see a pale, slender elf standing in the opening of your tent, his white hair perfectly styled as always, his piercing red eyes invading your soul. Shoving the rag back into your burning palm, you attempt to hide your mistake, though you know he smells the blood from miles away.

“I had a moment of clumsiness, nothing more.” You stated in a nonchalant tone, attempting to downplay your embarrassment.

You turn your hand away from him, your eyes drifting around your tent, avoiding his gaze. He slowly approaches you, kneeling down on the cushion you are sitting on. He moves his head to meet your gaze, not wasting a second of eye-contact.

“Mind if I take a look, darling?” He purrs, asking more nicely than usual.

Your heart begins to race as he leans over you a little, prying into your personal space. If it were anyone else, you would push them away, but he invited himself in so much that you couldn’t help but miss it when he left. However, in this moment you did not want to feel this vulnerable, this embarrassed at your mistake; you couldn’t help but push him away just a little. After all, he is not known for having the best 'bedside manner’, if any at all. Meeting his eyes, you give him a knowing look.

“I’ll be alright on my own, thank you, Astarion. Besides, I thought you went into town with the rest of the camp?” You inquire, suddenly aware of just how much your feelings of being alone may have been an illusion.

“I had no need to go, and honestly I couldn’t take any more of Gale’s whining about ‘needing to eat magical artifacts’. I know everyone complains about my diet, but let’s be realistic here for just a moment…” He looks away smirking, proud of his own snarky comment. Turning back to you, there is suddenly a shift in tone on his face. While he still has his typical look, one that is oozing with flirtatious energy, he looks a bit more serious, concerned even. You’ve never seen this side of him before, and it shocked you considering just how insignificant he’d find a wound like this normally.

“Let me see it, please.” His voice was low, softer than usual, but commanding. One of his hands reaches across you, his hand ghosting over yours. You can’t help but lift your bloody hand so his palm touches the back of your hand. Never breaking eye-contact, he pulls your hand closer to him, gently pulling the rag from your white knuckles. Looking down, he notices just how bad the cut is, taking up most of your palm.

“Oh, my dear… How did you do this?” His voice is more concerned now, his thumb gently rubbing circles into your wrist. His eyes soften, and you can’t help but think back to what put you in this mess to begin with. Your body trembles once more, eyes breaking his gaze as you stare down at your hand.

“My hand slipped while cleaning my blade. It’s alright, I just need to wait for Shadowheart to come back…” You trail off.

“Why wait for Shadowheart? I can make you feel better, you know…” His free, slender hand reaches down and grabs your chin, gently raising your head to face his again. You blush from his touch, his willingness to command your body. Your mouth falls open a little, unsure of what to say or how to respond to such a comment from him. You were used to his flirting, but this unlocked a whole new feeling in you. He could sense your speechlessness, and so he did the one thing he knew how to do best: make you even more flustered.

“Would you like me to kiss it better?” He asks in his normal, teasing tone. This offering catches you off guard, breaking your immersion in this intimate moment. You can’t help but laugh, thinking now that he was only just charming you like he does everyone else. Continuing to laugh, you call him out.

“Very funny, Astarion. Hilarious. Need I remind you of when I was opening up to you not that long ago and you said almost the exact same thing? Seems to me you’re running out of tactics here.” You roll your eyes, not amused by his antics.

You feel his grip tighten on your bleeding hand, pulling it closer to him. Looking to see what he is doing, you connect with his eyes one more time, seeing an almost predatory look. You stop laughing, your face heating up once again, your heart pounding as his soft lips connect with your wounded palm. It still stings, and you wince a little at the contact, but you can’t seem to look or pull away from him. He kisses all along your palm, and you can feel him gently sucking at the blood. Not only was he kissing you better, but he was feeding on you.

If you weren’t so attracted to him, you’d be much more upset. Instead, you sit on this cushion while the vampire of your desires kneels before you, kissing and sucking at your wounded palm. You can feel his tongue lapping at your skin, his fangs ever so slightly poking out from behind his lips. Yes, he was feeding, but was he… actually kissing you too? His hands continue to massage the back of your hand and your wrist, trying to provide you comfort without completely invading your space. Eventually he stops, planting a final kiss on your wrist, his mouth covered in blood. He licks his lips, and you can’t help but tremble now but for a whole new reason.

“Better?” He asks, smiling enough to show his fangs this time.

“You just wanted an excuse to suck at my hand, didn’t you?” You raise an eyebrow, an attempt to see through him.

“I am always looking for any excuse to suck at any part of you, my sweet.” His voice is low once more, a rumbling laugh escaping his lips.

He finds a section of the rag not absolutely soaked in blood and pushes it back into your, now much cleaner, palm. Your whole face is flushed now, unable to think of any more witty remarks or comebacks. For the second time in just a few small minutes, he found yet another way to leave you completely speechless. The sly vampire decides to take advantage of your silence once more.

Letting go of your hand, he leans forward, his lips connecting with yours. It’s soft, gentle, and new. To be fair, while you have spent a few intimate nights together, this moment here alone feels so much more real, so much more genuine. Almost as if he was kissing you… because he wanted to. A real, genuine want. His hand caresses the side of your face, his other landing on the small of your back as he continues to kiss you. Without hesitation, you lean into the kiss, your body elated by his touch. It’s not long before he deepens the kiss, his tongue parting your lips, wanting more from you.

He tastes of iron, what more could you expect, but for once you don’t hate the taste. You invite it more into your mouth as he continues to lean even further over you. He begins to push you back, your body relaxing into the cushion. He breaks from the kiss, planting small kisses on your face, trailing them down your jaw and to the side of your neck. You can’t help but close your eyes, softly sighing as he kisses at your skin, sucking softly, his fangs once again poking you. He had been feeding off you almost every night now for weeks while you were dead asleep, and while it was unusual for you two, it was so much more enjoyable to experience it this way. He lifts his head, meeting your eyes as a way of warning you he was about to bite. He opens his mouth, his fangs protruding, ready for the taste of your flesh and blood.

“Helloooo? Astarion? Tav? We’ve got some goods!” Yells out Karlach, just a few meters away from your tent.

Shit. He sits up, kneeling over you, looking dissatisfied. You sigh and throw your head back into the cushion, frustrated. His cool hand caresses your cheek before tracing down your arm. He leans in close to your face one last time, his breath warming your skin.

“Shall we finish this later tonight, my love?” He purrs, not even remotely finished with you.

You nod, still unable to speak from the last few eventful minutes. He kisses your cheek before standing. “Find me in the woods at our little spot, just after everyone has gone to bed. Don’t keep me waiting.” He flashes one last cheeky smirk before exiting your tent.

“Hello, Karlach. Gale find any boots to devour today?” He quips, and you can’t help but laugh when Gale offendly responds.

The camp erupts in conversation, and you find yourself leaving your tent after a few minutes to track down Shadowheart. She heals you in her tent, though she has quite a few questions. Giving vague enough responses, she accepts them and lets you be on your way, but she’ll definitely be curious about it for a while.

No matter, the only thought you could think of now was what Astarion had planned for both of you tonight; you knew exactly what was going to happen, but there was this whole new sense of excitement now that you could tell there was something deeper, real, and authentic going on between you two. You lie there in your tent, waiting for the snoring and sleep talking to begin to resonate throughout the camp, eager to scamper off into the wilderness with the elf you adore.

Author's Note:

Hello! I haven't written any fan fiction in a loooooong time, and none of it was ever good to begin with- I've been struggling with writer's block for awhile now, and this was the first thing to break me out of it... lmao. I am very new to BG3 in general honestly, and I just barely started act 2. Please no spoilers, but also if Astarion is sorta OOC, I hope that explains why too :)

I've only had Astarion for what, two, three weeks now, and this man is just so whewww. I thought of this fic idea right as soon as I started a longer drive, and I started recording my thoughts on video so that way I wouldn't forget anything before I could start writing hahaha- I blushed so hard writing this, hope y'all feel the same

Hope you enjoy!

#astarion #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion fic #astarion x mc #astarion x you #astarion soft #astarion fluff

1K notes · View notes

ddarker-dreams · 6 months

Text

play fighting — chrollo lucilfer.

Hot cocoa is a staple when cooler weather starts setting in.

By your reckoning, it could find a place on every tier of Maslow's hierarchy of needs. A warm, decadent cup with wisps of steam rising from the swirling surface. This mouthwatering mental image is what led you to the kitchenette. Dutifully following the package’s instructions, you rip into the chocolatey package by the serrated edge and get to work.

All the while, a pair of inquisitive eyes track your every movement. You can’t imagine why the sight of you in fluffy pajamas pulling milk from the fridge has Chrollo’s rapt attention. He’s leaning against the counter, sipping on his own concoction. Earl gray tea, if the scent is of any indication.

Your masterpiece is almost complete. Now, for the finishing touch — marshmallows.

Alas. You’ve encountered a problem. The marshmallows are stored in a cabinet that evades your reach. To make matters worse, Chrollo has perched himself right where you’d need to climb up. Should you list clairvoyance among his many capabilities? Logically, you know that feat eludes him, but your suspicions remain.

“Is something the matter, dear?”

Ah, you forgot that you’ve been silently squinting at him while the gears in your head spin. Round and round they go, never producing a viable solution.

“No, not at all,” you dismiss. His gaze never leaves yours, even as he takes another sip of his drink. You can see it in his eyes, that ‘oh, really?’ look. You don’t appreciate that look, for you receive it often, thanks to your shenanigans.

“Your drink’s getting cold,” he points out.

Very astute of him.

The way you see it, this can go a few ways. One, you could ask for his help in procuring your garnish. You could, but… he regards you with such bemusement, finding pleasure in every little thing you do. You’re tired of the court jester role. Asking him for something almost always guarantees that you’ll be putting on a metaphorical cap and bells.

So you cling to your pride. You stand close enough for your shoulder to brush against his, as your target necessitates such sacrifice. Straining while on your tiptoes, your fingertips brush against the damnable cabinet handle, gold and mocking. Vigilant as your efforts are, they’re ultimately fruitless. Your prize remains just out of reach.

Huffing, you turn to face Chrollo, who has no right to look as innocent as he does.

“Could you…” you trail off and shoo him with your hands. You hope that gets the message across.

“Can I ask why? I feel perfectly content here.”

Of course he does.

You’re unsure what spurs on your next action. Pettiness? Irritation? Righteous anger? Who knows. You rest both your palms flat against his bicep and push, as if he were nothing more than an inconvenient obstacle, which, in truth, is a fitting description. He doesn’t so much as budge. The full weight of your body and strength combined amounts to nothing. You can’t comprehend how hard his muscles feel beneath his shirt, it’s like you’re touching a wall.

Although it’s quiet, you hear it. A breathy chuckle escapes his lips.

Your equilibrium is thrown into chaos as you go from your nice, secure spot on the floor to being lifted high. Two large hands settle right above your hips, holding you in place. Your reflexes kick in and you squirm. Fortunately, Chrollo’s grasp doesn’t falter. You realize what he’s getting at and make quick work of opening the cabinet and getting your stupid marshmallows. He brings you down. You only relax when your soles touch solid ground.

Chrollo gives your hips a playful squeeze.

“Try again,” he whispers near your ear.

You want nothing more than to scamper off, but his body envelops you, cutting off any escape. You’re caught between a rock and a hard place, clutching a bag of marshmallows, your Hello Kitty slippers askew.

You sigh.

Life certainly has its challenges.

Should you start with elbowing him or stomping down on his feet…?

#this isn't even play fighting. darling is ready to throw hands for real #yandere chrollo x reader #hxh x reader #chrollo brainrot #scara and blade will be next .#my stuff

680 notes · View notes

suguru-getos · 7 months

Text

୨・┈﹕✦﹕ Kinktober Day 24﹕✦﹕┈・୧

-> Event Masterlist

Geto Suguru x F!Reader -> Size Kink

Summary: After returning from your trip, you found out your boyfriend is not okay. Maybe a vacation (To Venice) ;) would help. (Mentions of Deppressed!Suguru, angst, breakdowns, toothrotting fluff and comfort, Satoru being a wonderful best friend, Suguru healing) ❤️‍🩹 Basically hurt-comfort with size!kink 😭

Warnings: Angst, breakdowns, Suguru’s deranged and suc!dal and has murderUrges, Reader (us) comfort him and pull him out from it. Mentions of reader’s breakdowns, cus I mean— 🤷🏻‍♀️ Look at him!!?? Nipple-play, breeding, softsex, sensual, FLUFFY AND NICE AND SUGURU’s so Spoiling towards us it’s just 🙈

A/N: Guys I had sm fun 🥹😵‍💫🩵 writing this I swear!! Hurt-comfort is like my favorite thing in the whole wide world <33 I love to characterize Suguru & to play around with his character. *Screeches and screams* 🍨🍦 I made him yummy thank me later xx Also can we look at the images of him above 🥵 size kink BRRRR

"If you really think, you can do everything, take everything in, save people, and somehow save yourself along with the deceitful thinking that you will protect me. Then you're wrong!" Tears welled up in your eyes, the pain clearly imminent in Suguru's eyes. He looked dead inside, and no mourning was soothing your ache for your older Suguru. You just, missed him beyond beliefs… even when he was right beside you. You hoped he would response to your cry of pain, your bleeding words, but he didn't have it in him anymore. Suguru had almost, given up on himself.

Your hands found themselves clasping onto his collar, pulling him closer to you. "Suguru, look at me, I am telling you something. Can't you fucking see how much it hurts!" You screamed, losing your calm, your temper. It felt ironical to complain to him about how much it's hurting you. You can see he's got it worse; the nights full of terrors and the days full of decaying cursed spirits. You were an empath for your lover, and it was clear staying near him was subjecting you to everything he felt. He doesn't want to see you this way, desperate and hurting…

"I'm sorry, Angel." Suguru sighed, wrecked with the way you burst into tears and hugged him. Voice choking onto sobs as you earnestly tried clutching onto him for dear life. "Sugu, come back to me please come back…" You cried, wailed and eventually dropped onto your knees. The incomprehensible feeling, the heaviness of the things Suguru was going through was making you breathless.

Suguru's heart was only breaking further apart, watching you slowly scrape away in front of him. "I want to kill myself." He finally spoke up, "No, truth is, I want to kill everyone."

This was the first time Suguru was opening up, and no matter how brutal it sounded, his eyes were still kind. Maybe because it was you, in front of him. "You are a sorcerer, too, I shouldn't say this to you, but I hate those monkeys." He radiates pessimism and negativity through him. Yet, you smile a little.

"Come with me, go away with me." You held his hands, squeezing them tightly as if you were grateful they're not cold. You truly were. They were warm, they were still your Suguru's hands.

"Please, Suguru, let's go away for some time." You urged, and he knelt with you, hugging you tightly, not caring about the whimper that escapes you because of his firm grip.

"Running away, won't solve anything." He echoed, and you felt your stomach sink. Soft sniffles echoing in the room as you shook your head like a tantrum-y child. "No, we will solve everything. You and I, we can solve everything. No matter what it is." You cupped his face, becoming stronger for him. "It's okay to feel like this Suguru, it's okay. I'm here." You nudge, watching his eyes showing signs of at least, some life in them. "Can you, not give up?" You meant on himself, you meant on everything.

To make sure, he understands… you hummed again, "makes me feel like, I'm being abandoned."

Suguru blinked at that, letting your words settle deep within. "Makes me feel like, I'm not even worth fighting for." You looked down, not having the guts to say this to him while making eye-contact. "Please, let's elope somewhere Sugu." You crooned, babying him almost. "I will follow you to the ends of the earth anyway, even if your path is changed." You hum, and with the way your pupils fixated on your hands intertwined, Suguru knows you mean it.

"Okay, maybe… I do need a little get away." Suguru smiled tenderly, partial charm returning to his eyes.

Oh it felt like rain in famine, "Good, thank you, I love you."

"I love you too, my Angel."

---

The next thing was you booking tickets to go to Europe. You urged Satoru and Yaga to not assign any more missions for Suguru. It was hard, you and Suguru were both powerful special grade sorcerers; but hey- you both had Satoru to rely on. "I told you the moment he lost weight, he wasn't doing okay." Satoru scoffed, rolling his eyes, tapping at his feet impatiently in the café you decided to meet him in. "What the fuck is up with being the one to hide things?" Satoru was pissed, why would his best friend not communicate? "Makes him feel less of a man?" You chuckle at that, you knew Satoru loved him almost as much as you did. "I've persuaded him to go on a trip with me." "You did?" Satoru was… amazed. These days, Suguru wasn't even joining in for any normal outings. Wasn't going out of his house for weeks, wasn't even meeting you. Things worsened when you left to Korea for a mission longer than 3 weeks. You had to stay there for some Jujutsu School Collaboration initiative. That's when Suguru was off his leash, truly at his worst. Taking missions more than he should, succumbing to the darkness of his mind and the curses.

"Just, want you to handle things while we're gone." You sipped onto the iced frappe you've ordered. Meanwhile Satoru ate a mochi, seemingly absent-minded and bored. "You don't have to worry about that, you know I'd do that in a heartbeat for him." He bratted, raising a brow at you. "And you…"

You smiled at that, nodding gently. It felt good to have the 'Strongest' so whipped for your boyfriend, and platonically you, as well.

The higher-ups posed a threat, as always. 'Why is Suguru Geto not on missions?' ; 'Did he get off the job of a Sorcerer?' especially the cunt-faced Principal of Kyoto. You and Satoru personally paid him a disrespectful visit at his school. Nothing he can complain against, wouldn't sit well to anger two special grades, will it? Despite showing that the Sorcerer world is only filled with people who are willing to take on the role- example: Nanami switching from corporate jobs to a sorcerer job… it was still, at the end, a disgusting, foul powerplay hidden beneath shackles of rules. If you are a special grade sorcerer, they'd do anything to hold on to you. Even blackmails are not far off the list. Emotionally draining…

---

"I have booked us a flight to Venice, baby." You sat cross legged on the swing chair Suguru's house has, fondling with your iPad and searching for hotel venues. "Venice huh." Suguru was still numbed, but at least, not he couldn't avoid you because practically you lived with him now. "Yeah, we can go to Switzerland, and also wherever you want. I hear Germany this time of the year is beautiful." You croaked excitedly, swaying your legs as he walked towards you, sitting on the chair in front of you. "Satoru told me you and I are on a vacation for months." He came directly on the point. "The trip isn't that long, is it?" He manspreaded, raising a brow.

You gulped, smiling softly, the last thing you need is him feeling 'weak'. You had to approach this carefully. "Suguru, I think you and I have done enough missions for a while. I want us to spend some time together, to ourselves." You added some degree of truth, "Also, I don't want you to keep eating curses and letting them eat you from the inside and I don't want to lose the person I love the most in my fucking life." With the way you affirmatively snapped, there was no way, Suguru would battle against it. A soft nod was all you got as a response.

"Alright, I will handle the packing. Don't want you screeching like a wild animal when you discover you forgot your charger." He leaned in, giving you a chaste peck & you giggled. "Of course."

---

The packing, the preparations, the dressing up and going to the Airport, the flight where you slept leaned against his shoulder. All went by in a tender haze of beautiful memories. Inflicted and infected by his sadness, still. Though you wouldn't mind. You're ready to accept him rotten if needed.

When you two reached Venice, the Victorian style hotel with the boats and the beautiful lakes was in fact, refreshing for him; and you. You knew it because Suguru had stopped going to your shared balcony of the house, now here he was, standing there, observing the people. The couples giggling and kissing each other, the boat rowers singing in their native Italian language, the streets with so much hustle and bustle… yet calming. You hugged him from behind, breathing in his scent. "Like it?" "Love it, my beautiful baby." He crooned back, turning towards you and pulling you closer to him by your hips. "I love you." He chanted, almost in a way that he used to when he first asked you out. These past few months were hard and rough, but if you were able to have him back, even infinitely slowly… you'd dedicate it to eradicating all his sadness.

"If you want, I can dress very Lana Del Rey today and we could make steamy love." You giggled, leaning in and kissing him softly. Suguru and you… yeah, haven't made love in a while. You'd never push him when he isn't feeling it, and naturally, someone who's suffering so much would have it at the last thing on his mind.

"You're right, how disappointing of me… I don't remember the last time I treated you, I worshipped you." He thought out loud, and you pouted. "It's okay Suguru, don't think about it like that. Think about how you're gonna make it up to me." You stuck your tongue out, giggling.

It's the way he looks at you, like he's starving and you're delectable. It's the way his eyes are loud enough with their projection of love that it quiets the world down for you. It's the way Suguru Geto breathes, that makes you love him so much you'd break.

Right now, he's doing the same thing… being himself. Hands wandering to your sides and helping you wrap your legs around his waist as he walked towards the shared bedroom of the hotel. Leaning in and kissing you passionately, shoving his tongue just to show how much he's been deeply yearning. Admiration coated in every action. "So lucked out that I have you." He smiled to himself, kissing your forehead deeply once you were nestled into the succumbing softness of the mattress.

"Same," you grin back, watching him undress you with his eyes first, and then his hands followed. You mimicked the same movements.

"I can't handle the fucking hotness!" You whined, once he was left in his pants, upper body naked for you to devour. Suguru chuckled, heat rushing through his cheeks and core as he cupped your face, kissing you once again.

The thing about you and him is, Suguru is big. He's built like a bulky man. Stretched to 6'3'', broad shoulders that'd hold two of you, hands big enough you miss almost an inch if you were to compare his with yours. Yeah, Suguru was big and you were tiny. Something that only aided to you being subbier and smaller to him. Letting him manhandle and take all the control that he wants to.

"Who do you belong to, darling?" He cooed, watching you instantly answer. "You, forever and always."

It warms his heart when he hears that, spreading your damp pussy lips with his fingers and thrusting a finger into you. It's been… long. He knows it with the way you're clamping for dear life, just on his digit. "Sh-i-t," You croak out, while Suguru hushed you with a soft kiss, slowly moving his finger in and out of your pussy. Once he felt you had accepted his finger's girth, he inserted another one. "AH god-" You whined, mewling at the delicious stretch of his thick and long fingers being coated with your essence. "You want to make sweet love and you're so worked up with the fingers alone." He chuckled to himself, stretching you out so good, curling them against the familiar sensitive spot.

Your back arched, the way your pussy clamped as if she was a slave to his hands and cock.

"Oh she's close." He cooed, "Go on, cum for me then I can ruin you with me." He kissed your pelvis, holding it down as your orgasm raked through you, approaching fiercely and shuddering your body against him as waves of pleasure took over you. "Good girl. Good little girl." Suguru praised, riding it out for you. Once the orgasm's high settled, Suguru took out his fingers and suckled onto them, eyes never leaving yours.

"Want you, so bad!" You gasped out, pulling him closer to you by wrapping your legs around him, feeling the imprint of his cock into you. "Alright alright, impatient little girl." He smirks, pushing the tip of his pre-leaking cock into you in one swift stroke. Mean, Suguru Geto is mean sometimes… especially when he wants you to be scream at the stretch only he can give you. No one else, he wants your pussy to know only how he feels. Damn he's big, and when he pushes himself balls deep, your pussy is strained beyond its limit. "Shit- s- so big Sugu." You whimper out, tearing up at the ache.

"Ssh, it's okay darling. I'm still. Adjust to me, go on." Suguru patiently waits, kissing your face all over, leaning in and kissing your breasts, suckling onto your nipples while you clamped and waited for the pain to settle in.

"Move, please…" You glance at him now, doe-eyed and insatiable.

"Of course, took you some time to adjust to me huh? Tiny little baby." He smiles, thrusting into you without relent. Your womb stops him from going in any further, your insides torn apart deliciously at the feeling of being ploughed by him. "Oh- G- oh God," words fail you, the air choked out of your lungs with how good it hurts, with how pleasureful it feels.

Suguru's hand laced around your pelvis, pressing on it gently. "Got you," He smirks cockily, holding your hand and keeping it on your pelvis, enveloped by his own as he pressed.

A shrill scream filled the room, "Oh you can sense it, can't you sweetheart? Sense how deep I reach?" You moan at the pressure, pushing you closer and closer to the edge as you hopelessly nodded. Gasping and choking on air. "God yes, Sugu- AH please- oh my- g'nna," You whimpered, while Suguru was at a rhythmic pace now. Sometimes pulling all the way out and pushing back all the way in. He loved seeing you walk the rope between pleasure and pain.

"Good girl, with the way you're holding onto me, I can sense you're close." Suguru hummed, grounding you with his kisses, his spoiled little praises.

"Go on, show me how much you missed me."

"Just like (thrust) I (thrust) missed (thrust) this (thrust) pussy-" Suguru toppled off the edge right with you, painting your insides white with his warmth. "Oh god- fuck-"

You shudder, spasming around his cock and milking him further.

"That's it, I got you. I got you." Suguru reminded, leaning in and kissing you softly, tenderly, as if you'd break if he were to touch you wrong.

"I missed you, I missed this." He mused to himself, blushing a little at the sight of you fucked out and half-lidded. You nodded, still taking ragged breaths. "I love you"

"I love you too, Angel."

1K notes · View notes

aemxnd · 1 year

Text

midnight rain | daemon targaryen x niece!reader

Can the sunshine win over the darkness?

Heavily inspired by a gender-swapped Taylor Swift’s Midnight Rain as requested by @prettycutebunny, I hope I did your idea justice (and apologies for changing one lyric to suit the plot!)

WORDS: 5.3k (I’m so sorry)

WARNINGS: canon typical incest, dubcon, angst everywhere you look, p in v, v fingering, physical violence, breeding, degradation, praise, pain kink, Daemon being a real asshat, reader is Viserys and Alicent’s third child, reader has silver hair for plot point, Stockholm Syndrome, terrible High Valyrian translations, crying, power imbalance due to age difference.

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

My requests are open! 🖤

Such a pretty little songbird.

Little Starling, your mother had once named you as a child. A free spirit, bound only by the towering castle walls that clipped your wings as the youngest child of the King and his second Queen. Weeks, months, years passed daydreaming beneath your favourite tree, reading the same fantastical books and listening to the same wistful odes from your minstrel.

All the while under the careful eye of your kepus.

Life’s tragedies and horrors had never crossed your path, never entered your realm, therefore could never harm you. Your childhood as idyllic as you could imagine, save for a loving father. That void was dutifully replaced by your uncle Daemon, whose unrivalled care and indomitable attention ensured you never wanted for anything more, evermore understanding that your father’s duty to his throne far exceeded the loving relationship expected toward a daughter and that his brother could offer the closest companionship to his. Yours was an unbreakable bond that defied all secrets, surpassed all proprietary expectations and often branched into full conversation in High Valyrian to remain undetected by outside ears.

Meanwhile, your elder brothers Aegon and Aemond sought to salve the absence of a protective male role model closer to your own age, ensuring they trained in the sword to their own degrees should their little sister ever need rescue. No matter how often you reassured them, they refused to share your belief that no danger could come to you, for danger did not seek you. With the guard of three silver-haired Princes, you thought yourself invincible.

As you matured together, however, your brothers discovered distractions. For Aegon, it was women, cups and the sordid activities beyond the castle walls. For Aemond, it was Vhagar, studies and bitterness. You could not begrudge them the right to grow, to extend their roots beyond your all-too-comfortable sibling unit, as you too had become distracted by literature, music and the pursuit of a quiet life with precious few responsibilities. Somehow your tranquil existence had eluded the conversation of marriage, recognising your unfettered spirit aspiring to greater things than a life secluded within the Red Keep.

But not in the eyes of your kepus.

~~She was sunshine, I was midnight rain~~

“What troubles you, little starling?” Called a familiar voice from behind your favourite reading spot in the Godswood. You squinted against the midday sun to find your beloved uncle Daemon watching over you, an uneasy frown skewing his lips. “Why are you so often here alone?”

“Good day, dear kepus,” you closed the tome in your lap, clasping your hands together. “My brothers are at the Dragonpit, where I fear a princess may never tread.”

“And you are content with reading in solitude?” Daemon stepped closer, treading carefully over the gnarled roots of the tree upon which you sat. “Would you not prefer company?”

“I am sure others would not wish to read the tales I choose to indulge,” you clutched your book closer to your chest, hurriedly attempting to conceal its cover from him. Sighing thoughtfully, you smiled up at your uncle. “I am resigned to the life of a quiet Princess Regent, neither an heir nor a common-born. No responsibility, no authority, yet still no freedom.”

Daemon approached and perched on a root beside you, chuckling softly under his breath. “I suppose that notion is all too familiar to us both, Princess.”

“Then how did you assuage it, uncle?” You looked over to him, noticing a distinct pain behind the considerate smile on his countenance. “How did you counsel yourself to contentment with such an existence?”

“What in the Seven Heavens makes you believe that I have?” Daemon snorted, gaze dropping into his lap. “How do you counsel yourself to contentment with a life of loneliness, niece? You are but seven-and-ten, do you not wish to take a husband? Make an honest man out of some egotistical Lannister?”

You smiled warmly. “I do not wish to marry, uncle. No aspect of marriage or childbearing holds any attraction for me, for I could never find the love of which I read in literature.”

“That I find hard to believe, Princess. If you wish to marry for love, your parents would be only too happy to oblige.” His hand reached to clasp over your thigh reassuringly. “One day, you will find the Prince you deserve.”

A comfortable silence fell between you, enough to hear the rising volume of the wind in the Godswood. You glanced up in tandem to see the once-turquoise sky fading to an ominous grey.

“A storm is coming, Princess,” Daemon clicked his tongue, slapping his knees demonstrably and rising to his feet. With a kindly hand proffered in the space between you, he beamed down at you. “May I accompany my little ray of sunshine to shelter?”

As you reached to accept, Daemon finally caught a glimpse of your book’s cover and smiled to himself. “The Tales of Persephone and Hades, I see.” His voice lowered to a mutter so indistinct you could not hear him. “How apt, vēzos.” Sun.

You paced slowly toward the library together, Daemon always one step behind, his hands clasped studiously behind his back as you meandered around hallway after indiscriminate hallway, wordlessly travelling as if no conversation could be found. You would never notice the manner in which Daemon consumed the image of you before him, a woman grown so distinctly from the small babe he had observed in your youth, born with gleaming silver hair which now tumbled to the length of your hips. Your regal green gown swayed as you moved and swept the hallway before his intrepid footsteps, Daemon swallowed harshly as he imagined the frame concealed by your bodice and boned skirt.

~~She wanted it comfortable, I wanted that pain~~

Upon your arrival at the dimly-lit library hall, you turned to nod a farewell to your escort.

“Thank you, uncle,” you smiled before quickly turning on your heels in search of another book to lose yourself in. As you paced, you heard your footsteps echoing with another, realising that Daemon had followed you. After a few more steps, you ground to a sudden halt, giggling gently as he bumped into you and nearly lost his footing. You grasped his arms behind you and steadied him, the gentle clearing of his throat behind you making you chuckle harder. “Kepus, are you following me?”

His hands searched for your waist and skimmed the contour of your hips, pulling you flush to his chest so close his warm breaths fanned your hair. Your laughter silenced with the sudden realisation that this was no child’s play.

“I would follow you to the ends of the earth, little starling,” he whispered into the shell of your ear, venturing a hand to brush your tumbling silver curls from your neck so he could blaze a trail of butterfly kisses unimpeded. Your breath hitched in your throat, eyes fluttering closed as his gentle touch melted your resistance immediately.

“Kepus… what do you mean?” You asked timidly, almost afraid of the response.

His next searing kiss into the base of your neck lingered a while, his lips wrapping you up in anticipation and longing for a touch you had never before desired, but now that you had it, you craved it more than the air you breathed. Your head threw back into the blissful sensation, earning a low groan from Daemon that vibrated softly against your skin.

“You have always been the midday sun to my midnight rain, haven’t you, little one?” Daemon whispered. “You were born into this world when I returned from the Stepstones, a ray of light when my world was shrouded in darkness. Whenever my life has succumbed to the pitch black of night, you were always there to illuminate the way.”

Your hands rested on his as they traversed deep into the valley of your pelvis, hovering over the position of your most sensitive place concealed only by the structure of your dress.

“Uncle, please…,” you muttered in a form of weak protest that came out as an encouragement, unable to scramble through your mind for a reason why you should reject his advances. He had lost Laena, you were unwed, there were no marital connections to stop you. Your beloved uncle, who more or less raised you in the absence of your father, had been the deepest love in your heart all your life. Whether or not that had been a romantic love or not, you could not deny the way your body responded to his touch as if you had yearned for this moment ever since you first read of love. Holding him this close felt as natural as breathing.

“Hush now, little starling,” he cooed as his lips blazed a trail up to your earlobe and nibbled gently, all while pressing his palm into your skirt so his fingers could make contact with your mound beneath, making featherlight strokes into the fabric and causing your hips to buck into his hand. “Tepagon aōla naejot nyke.” Give yourself to me.

The darkness enveloped the daylight as you nodded in agreement, and in the blink of an eye Daemon gripped your hips, spun you to face him and captured your lips with his. At first tentative, he pulled back to scan your face for a response, only to growl hungrily as he watched your gaze journey to his lips eagerly awaiting their next contact, consuming your mouth with his before you could mutter a protest. Your hands instinctively reached to lace around his neck, drawing him closer and dipping into the kiss as if your hunger could not be sated, craving as much contact as physically possible.

Without you knowing, Daemon had steered your clinch across the room toward the nearest desk, lifting you to rest on the wood and swiftly hitching your skirt up around your hips in the process. His lips refused to part from yours, nudging his nose into your cheek and humming contentedly against your mouth. With one hand cupping your cheek, the other ghosted a featherlight trail from your knee to your inner thigh, blazing toward your smallclothes between your legs, grazing the sodden fabric as it clung to your core.

“You already want the darkness, don’t you niece?” He pressed, groaning greedily and venturing both hands to rip the weak cotton apart at the seams. With his last obstacle laid to waste and clinging to your hips, his fingers grazed your pulsing folds and collected the waiting droplets of your anticipation. “I have waited so many years to feel your heat, ñuha vēzos.” My sun.

Your vision swirled like a hurricane, conflicting emotions and thoughts blurring the image of the silver-haired prince gazing down at you through lust-blown pupils as he watched his fingers daring to breach your folds before you gave him permission.

“Kepus, not yet,” you pleaded against your own better judgement, a whimper escaping him as you planted both palms on his chest to keep him an arm’s distance away. “We are not yet married, I don’t think this is right.”

Daemon chuckled to himself before grasping both your wrists in one hand and raising them above your head, his free hand pressing your chest to lay you flat on the desk. Pinning your wrists above you and leaning down to hover over you, two fingers rediscovered your folds and slipped inside in one smooth motion.

“Then don’t think, sweetling,” he whispered as he buried his fingers inside you to the knuckle, fingertips eagerly curling into your spongy walls and stroking slowly. Your hips tentatively reared into his touch, a palpable trepidation leaving you worrying about your maidenhead, the pain of coupling that literature failed to address yet had always remained on the lips of every birthing woman within the Keep. Daemon noticed your hesitation and thrust his fingers deeper, eliciting a strangled gasp from the depths of your lungs and revelling in your back arching into his motions. “It’s alright starling, the darkness has you now.”

You swallowed harshly, eyes roving to the ceiling as the full sensation in your cunt overwhelmed you. With a disapproving click of his tongue, Daemon tightened his grip on your wrists and slammed them against the hard wood, making you hiss gently.

“Don’t take your eyes off me, niece,” he commanded until your gaze met his again, ramping up the pace of his pumps as you buckled beneath him. “You need not be ashamed of letting go. Let your kepus take control.”

Daemon’s thumb journeyed to settle on your clit, tracing lazy circles around your bundle of nerves while his fingers drove fervently in a race to reach the furthest points inside you, the wet slaps of his motions echoing through the library. Watching closely as your back arched against his restraint, your eyes fluttering to close as if your climax were nearing, the edge of your pleasure cliff was cruelly snatched from you as his fingers withdrew from your soaking folds with a lewd pop. In a determined hurry and a rustle of fabric, Daemon fumbled with his breeches and freed himself before quickly replacing his digits with a smooth thrust of his length into your cunt. Your determined lubrication enabled his swift entry to sheath himself inside you, but not without discomfort as you winced to handle the stretch of your walls around his girth.

“Easy now, vēzos,” he soothed, pressing a palm into the valley of your hips to feel his tip grazing your innermost core and sending a shallow shiver throughout your body. “Soon the pain will become comfortable, I promise.”

You swallowed deeply, nodding in compliance and dutifully wrapping your legs around his waist to allow him easier access within you. Daemon grunted, making his next thrust deep and punishing to the point you yelped out, filling the library with the echoes of your cries.

“That’s it, little one,” he hummed contentedly, working your cunt with his bucking hips like a man possessed, his free hand gripping your hip to impale you further. He leaned further over you to hover his lips over yours, his towering stature blocking out the dim candlelight of the room and enveloping you in pitch black night. “Give yourself to me, let the darkness take you.”

With every merciless thrust deep into your cunt, your helpless mewls grew louder which only encouraged Daemon’s animalistic plunges within you. Gathering what little strength you could muster, you weakly pulled your wrists against his restraint.

“Please… need to… touch you,” you stuttered, fingers clamouring into mid-air for contact. Daemon’s sadistic grin faded as he acquiesced, your hands firing to curl around his neck and pulled him in for a searing kiss so you could silence your screams into his mouth, his relentless force pummelling you into the hard wood of the desk beneath which was sure to leave flayed grazes on your spine the next day.

“My little sunshine, you feel like heaven around me,” he cooed against your lips, curling his thrusts to bottom out inside you so hard your blurred vision of him would glitter with stars. “Does this not feel like heaven to you?”

You whimpered an unintelligible response, unable to compose any coherent thought as his cock filled you to the hilt. The searing heat swelling inside you brought the vision of your cliff edge back into sharp focus, begging you to drive your hips up to meet his in a desperate race for your release. Daemon recognised your eagerness and met it with a newfound brutal pace, pounding into you so fast the lewd skin slapping that echoed through the chamber became staccato and relentless.

“When you are carrying my child, your father will wed you to me,” he leaned to whisper in your ear, anchoring himself by wrapping his hand around your throat, his fingers and thumb pressing eagerly into each side to stem your blood flow rushing to your head, leaving you breathless and helpless. “And I will return inside your pretty little cunt every single night for the rest of our lives.”

His thrusts became jagged, betraying his own approach to the precipice.

“You see, every night the darkness consumes the light.”

With one last devastating thrust, your high flooded through you like a tidal wave and crashed against Daemon’s incoming climax, flooding your walls with his release and blending with your own, his gaze travelling to watch the space between you as his glistening cock hammered into your depths and stuttered as he poured inside you. The once-deafening lewd sounds of your coupling now replaced with ragged breaths, gasps for air and Daemon’s contented grunts as he rode out his orgasm within you, you threw your head back against the wood in sheer realisation of your own weakness.

Not yet married, but most likely to carry your kepus’ child before long.

You threw your hands to your belly, clutching at the flatness between your pelvis. Pulling out from you and admiring the soaking mess between your folds, Daemon’s hands rested upon yours as you looked up to find him gazing lovingly at the same space which terrified you to the core.

“Byka vēzos,” he hummed. Little sun. “If you do not conceive this time, we have the rest of our lives together to ensure you will.”

~~She looked like a bride, I was making my own name~~

Some flowers bloom only when the sun sets.

You blossomed for Daemon in a way he could never have anticipated. His bravery in the battlefield garnered him the courage to risk it all for a chance to make you his wife, but he found so very little resistance in your kind reception that his claim over you simply fell into his lap. The thrill of the chase evaded him, as you caved so effortlessly to his will.

Each time he requested your presence in his chambers, you parted your thighs and accepted him willingly. Yet each time you requested his presence in turn, he refused, ensuring he kept you wanting more and more, the suspense crafting a new height of pleasure each time you were called to his chambers, bent over his bed and pounded within an inch of consciousness.

Daemon Targaryen had laid his claim to your body and mind, yet all that remained was his possession of your soul.

Unbeknownst to you, Daemon had long pleaded with your father to wed you to him. Informally at first, often disguised as a joke to strengthen the Targaryen bloodline by betrothing two dragons to each other to fight for all eternity. But since the night in the library, his requests increased in volume and tenacity, resulting in a physical confrontation in the throne room between dragon brothers. Dismissing Daemon’s demand as nothing more than a vicious clamour for the Iron Throne, your father sought to banish his brother from King’s Landing to Dragonstone, where he would live out his days out of earshot of the Red Keep, where he would never again hear the pathetic whimpers of a man desperate to bed his youngest daughter for power.

To you, that night came as any other, as Daemon’s maid requested your presence in his chambers at the dead of night and you dutifully obliged, pacing the Keep corridors in eager anticipation of meeting him once more. As you crept through his door, a heavy fabric flew towards you and you grabbed it in mid-air. A dark cloak.

“Kepus, what—?”

“We need to leave. Tonight.” Daemon’s voice was short, snappy, panicked as his face came into view in the darkness. His brows knitted together, his lips skewed with fear.

“Wh… why? Did my father refuse our betrothal?”

“Of course he fucking did,” Daemon snapped through gritted teeth, grabbing the cloak still laying in your shaking hands and throwing it over your shoulders for you. “We need to leave for Dragonstone now, there’s a boat waiting for us in the harbour.”

“I don’t… why do we… what happened?” You were frozen to the spot, confusion washing over you in waves. Daemon’s hands balled into fists as he adjusted the hood over your head.

“Will you stop asking so many fucking questions? Just get down to the harbour, I’ll meet you there soon.”

“Kepus… I’m scared,” you stuttered, hands held out in front of you as if still holding the heavy cloak. “Will I ever see my parents again?”

Daemon smoothed the fabric over your shoulders and tucked the hood over your eyes. Pressing a quick dismissive kiss to the fabric laying over your forehead, he clasped your face and pulled it upwards.

“Whatever happens, little starling, we are each other’s family from this moment on.”

Suddenly, the tense silence between you shattered to the sound of deafening bangs on the door to his chambers. Immediately hunching his back defensively, he ushered you across the chamber toward a dark passage where a rogue guard waited to take you onward. “Place your trust in Ser Baleon, I will meet you at the shore.”

The crashes against the wooden portal intensified as you fled, the distinct swoop of metal from the chamber behind you suggesting Daemon had armed himself against the ambush. Searing hot tears blazed volcanic streams down your cheeks as you fought to focus on your steps down the dark spiral staircase to safety, wondering if you would ever see Daemon alive again.

~~Chasing that fame, she stayed the same~~

“Your father is a cunt,” Daemon hissed, storming into your Dragonstone chambers and crossing the room in three great strides to tower over you.

“Surely not, kepus,” you attempted to calm his temper with a reassuring palm pressed to his chest. “What has he said to irk you so?”

“He’s sent a raven to enquire after you,” he seethed, his jaw clenched tightly as if it might snap at any moment. “He claims that I kidnapped you in the dead of night and will not return you to your birthright in the Red Keep.”

“But I came to Dragonstone of my own free—,” you were cut off by Daemon’s hand firing to grasp your throat, your fingers racing to claw at his grip and prize yourself free.

“Well why don’t you speak those precious words to your beloved father instead?” He half-growled, sneering down at you as if you were his prey. “He seems to be the one that needs persuading of your own free will, Princess.”

“If you… if you let me, I will,” you stuttered against his restrictive clutch, weakly attempting an escape to breathe properly.

“You would love that, wouldn’t you?” He snarled, using one hand to spin you by your waist while retaining his grip on your throat, pressing his chest flush to your back and steering you to the bed. “You could run back to the Red Keep and your books and your perfect little boring life.”

“Kepus, please,” you protested weakly, reaching a hand ahead of you to cushion your fall as he dropped you face-first into the sheets. “Please, don’t…”

“Please don’t what, starling?” He chuckled, bunching your skirt over your behind and battling with his own breeches. “Don’t fight for my family, or don’t take my wife whenever I so wish?”

You scrunched your eyes closed, willing to block out whatever was coming next. This was not the careful husband you knew, this was not the devoted uncle who raised you in place of your father, this was certainly not the man who you fell in love with under a stormcloud amongst ancient tomes. This midnight rain will pass, no matter how much love it unravels in the eye of the storm.

Delivering a swift nudge to your thighs, your legs were parted and Daemon crawled between them, grasping your hips and drawing you up to impale yourself on his hardened cock. With no preparation, you yelped at the intrusion and hissed gently.

“The pain will soon become comfortable,” he declared as he ruthlessly bottomed out inside you. “I promise.”

Tears welled in your eyes, threatening to burst their banks as the agony coursed through you in waves, slowly replaced by bolts of pleasure as his tip grazed your innermost walls.

“Please… take me easily, my Prince,” you wheezed out between merciless thrusts stealing your breath from your lungs. “I am… I am with…”

“You would do well not to give orders when I can ensure you lose consciousness in a moment, little one,” Daemon hissed, pounding into you with an inhuman pace, sending your eyes roving to the ceiling as his nails dug crescent dips into the flesh of your hips. “You want to stay awake while I fill you up, don’t you? Maybe this time you will bear me a child.”

“Daemon, please be gentle…,” you fought to finish your declaration while balling your fists into the sheets, your elbows caving beneath you. “I am with child.”

With your last syllable, Daemon’s thrusts ceased instantly, leaving you whimpering at the immediate loss of friction. He stilled completely, not so much as a laboured breath escaping him behind you, his length still nestled halfway inside you.

“My Prince, I… I’m sorry,” you reassured, venturing a hand back towards him as if willing him to hold it. “I should have spoken sooner.”

You breathed into the deafening silence, wondering if he did not wish you to deliver the news in such a manner. Suddenly, a cool splash of water hit your scalding spine. A tear. Daemon’s tear.

“I have failed you, starling,” he sighed, completely shattering his blind rage into a self-deprecating reflection. Allowing his length to slip out from your folds, he released your hips and collapsed onto the sheets beside you. “After all this time, I could have destroyed our child with my recklessness.”

“You have never failed me, kepus, our babe is safe inside me,” you purred, reaching to brush another tear from his cheek. “If he’s anything like his father, he can withstand any amount of force.”

Daemon’s saddened gaze turned to you, still on all fours beside him. He ventured a hand to brush your cheek.

“I do not deserve you, vēzos jehikagon.” Sunshine.

In the blink of an eye, you threw a leg over his own to capture him between your thighs. Hovering your waiting folds over his length, still hardened and bobbing between your bodies as you awaited a signal to proceed.

“Let me please you, my King,” you pleaded, one hand venturing between your legs to stroke his cock and line his tip with your aching entrance.

Daemon’s gaze met yours, his wounded pride hooding his eyelids in contrast with your wide-eyed anticipation. You smiled at your silver-haired captor so warmly, he could not resist your brilliant sunshine blinding him to walk into the light. Gently bucking his hips to meet you in the middle, you lowered onto his length and shared a gratuitous moan as he filled you slowly and completely.

“You are truly carrying my babe?” His hands journeyed to your belly, swelling softly beneath his palms as you rocked gently into him.

“As true as the sun shines above us, ñuha jorrāelagon.” My love. “The Maester says it is early, so I should rest as much as possible.”

Daemon stilled, concerned. “Then you should cease at once, allow me to…”

“And deprive me of this moment with my beloved? Never,” you asserted, sinking down carefully and bucking your hips to graze his tip against your walls, dropping so far you could swear you felt his cock deep in your stomach. “Besides, I may not be able to ride my dragon for much longer so I will take any chance I can get.”

“When you grow too weary to ride your dragon,” Daemon’s fingers splayed out across your belly as you bobbed above him, his eyes journeying to the ceiling momentarily as the sensation of your walls tightening around him stole his breath. “Rest assured that your dragon will take good care of you, little one.”

The mere implication of his words sent you careering to your precipice, clenching tightly around his cock as your walls rippled and pulsed with the approach of your orgasm. Noticing the sensitivity of your walls to his every motion inside you, jolting and surging around him to bring his rhythmic rutting up into you to a jagged pattern, signalling the arrival of his own climax.

“Let go for me,” he commanded through a whisper, keeping his palms pressed to your abdomen and revelling in the strangled gasps you could no longer hold back, grinding your hips to ride through your high as he deftly painted your walls in staccato thrusts.

Filling the chamber with your mixed groans and deep pants as you slowed your motions above him, you couldn’t bear to move from atop Daemon for fear of losing the moment you shared. Instead, he gripped your hips and turned you onto the sheets, keeping his length buried within you as you lay beside each other.

“Gevie muña,” Daemon muttered under his breath as he reached to brush your silver hair from your face.

Beautiful mother.

~~All of me changed like midnight~~

It had taken you the best part of half an hour to muster the strength enough to heave yourself from the birthing chair. Propping yourself up on the fruit table stacked high with pomegranates, you gazed out from your Dragonstone chamber to the harbour beyond. The day was bright, gleaming, the waters mirroring the same blissful turquoise sky beneath which you used to read your books, drift off into fantastical realms and dismiss your own captivity as the Princess Regent with no responsibility and no freedom.

The Maester said your third birth would be easier than the initial two, but so far he had been proven catastrophically wrong. When sickness could not claim you, tiredness and weakness took hold. Days blended into each other, weeks dragged for months, your belly swelled overnight as you lay helpless in the birthing chair simply waiting for an end to the monotony of childbirth. After delivering Daemon two sons, you assumed your duty as a birthing mother had been fulfilled, yet another child swelled no sooner than the second had left your womb.

A pair of hands snaked around your hips to cradle your blossoming belly, fingers spread out over the span of the bump to feel every sensation beneath your skin. A chin rested in the crook of your neck and peppered lazy, haphazard kisses over your ear.

“Good morning, ñuha byka vēzos,” he cooed softly, his breaths warming your neck. My little sun. “You are not usually out of the chair so early, are you not well? Is our Prince keeping you from rest, little starling?”

You sighed as you dipped your head against his, placing your hands atop his as they surveyed your belly.

“I am quite well, husband,” you comforted him, tracing idle patterns over his hands, still as delicate as the day he first held you as a babe. “I’m always well when I am with you.”

Gazing out beyond the Dragonstone harbour, you could make out the faint outlines of the Red Keep from the safety of Daemon’s arms. Word from court suggested your father’s physical strength was at its last. Your mother sent a parchment requesting your presence but your husband intercepted it before it reached your hand, dismissing your concerns and reassuring that a raven would arrive at once if the King was indeed on his deathbed.

King’s Landing lay just beyond the dock, a symbol of the life you gave away for the sake of love. When you once believed you could never attain the love as told in literature, you failed to notice you had already fallen into such an affair. Persephone and Hades, the blinding sunshine tempted into the all-consuming darkness.

Such a pretty little songbird.

In such a pretty little cage.

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen angst #daemon targaryen yn #daemon targaryen fanfiction #daemon targaryen imagines #daemon x reader #matt smith #matt smith fanfiction #matt smith imagines #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfiction #hotd smut #hotd angst #daemon fanfiction #daemon imagines #house of the dragon matt smith

3K notes · View notes

yandere-sins · 1 month

Note

How would it be if blade's darling had wanted to contact him, though? Maybe to try and talk about things? They probably wouldn't know about the mind reset kafka does, so when they try to contact him to set up a meeting they think he remembers them.

Oh my god, that just gave me the sweetest of images! Some yandere's love is just so pure, I swear ♥

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Blade didn't really know why he reacted so fast to the unknown sound.

He usually didn't get bothered by that thing in his pocket, a device Kafka made him walk around with, telling him to check it regularly. It pling! and dundun! all day long, notifications appeared on its screen that he didn't usually react to unless someone mentioned him by name. Why would he? He knew his mission; there was no need to be in constant contact with the others.

Bing!

And yet, when a new sound rang in his ears, one he hadn't heard before, Blade stopped dead in his tracks. The guy he was hunting hurdled away, crawling through the pools of blood on the floor while the rain washed away the evidence of battle. Holding his bloody stomach, he watched the Hunter reach into his pocket, picking up his phone, unbothered by the massacre in front of him, almost as if he forgot about his target that took the chance to scramble to his feet, running for his dear life.

Blade gazed at the bright screen, his eyes hurting, but he didn't even notice the pain as he read the latest banner that notified him of a message.

we need to talk

The hairs at the back of his neck stood straight as he read those four words. Blade's mouth ran dry while his breathing stopped. As if he had to hear better, every one of his motions ceased, and the sounds of the constant traffic in the distance vanished. He felt fury build up as raindrops landed on his screen, the words vanishing. Yet he didn't understand why.

Bing! Bing!

He flinched. Even a second time and repeated, this sound differed from when Kafka or Silver Wolf tried to contact him. He didn't remember it ever ringing out before. A slight shake of nervousness went through him, followed by a spark of excitement. Before he knew it, he was reading the message—eager, desperate.

[Location sent] meet me here tonight, we really have to talk. i want this to end, you have to...

The message preview stopped there, and Blade snapped out of his trance. Slowly, his eyes trudged to the sender's name, but it was only a culmination of unfamiliar numbers. He looked at the time next, and with a twinge of disappointment, he realized it was early noon at best. A shaky breath escaped him, and for the first time since he got the notifications, he looked up into the dark alleyway before him.

It was quiet, no more breathing of his enemies. Yet, he could hear his own blood pounding in his ears and feel the desperate grip on the sword he still clutched onto. It had not been drenched in the blood of his target completely, yet, he didn't feel the yearning of finishing a job.

Instead, Blade felt compelled to go.

Where to, he didn't know. Somewhere, or precisely, where he should go, but he had never opened the message he received with the location. All he knew was that he had to go there. His legs moved on their own, steps splashing in the wet puddles on the ground. By the time he walked out onto the busy street, his sword had vanished, but not that feeling of urgency pushing him forward.

What were those feelings? Why did they keep aggravating him so? His head hurt as the lights of the cars flashed by him, taking in every moment of his pain. He should stop. He had to call Kafka. Something was wrong, and although he couldn't pinpoint it, it would be dangerous to continue on this unfamiliar path on his own.

Reaching into his pocket, he felt the little device vibrate against his fingers, followed by the now-more familiar Bling! he began to dread yet anticipate at the same time.

don't chicken out this time! just come and let's talk... i know you can see my messages

Staring at the message for a moment, he let the phone sink back into his pocket, never bothering to reply. You knew he was going to come, and he would. He wouldn't miss it for anything in this world.

You?

Who?

His legs carried him onwards into the unknown, but something told him that he knew exactly where he could find you, even if he didn't remember. Something inside him knew, and this feeling grew and grew stronger until it robbed him of any reason. There was a pull on him so strong, he couldn't help but pursue it—hunt it.

You, whoever you are, were his next target, and he had to have you. All to himself. Pressed against his marred body, engulfed by his shadow, never to be seen by anyone else again. Never to be touched unless it were his fingers resting gently against your skin, and never to be tasted unless it was on his lips and tongue. If he must devour you to have you all to himself, he would. And he would tear you down and ruin you to the point that no one would dare to take his prey away from him.

Blade had to have you. Savagely, violently. All to himself.

He didn't know who you were or what you wanted from him. Why you contacted him, or how you even knew about this pitiful creature with a heart beating so fast that he felt real fear for its safety inside of him. But he'd find you, have you, and destroy you.

And he couldn't wait to meet you.

174 notes · View notes

kckt88 · 2 months

Text

The Lost Dragon XI - Freedom.

Summary:

The Lost dragon finds his way home.

Warning(s): Childbirth, Dragons, Reunion, Fluff, Kissing, Language, Anger, Uncle/Niece Incest, Smut - Oral Sex (F Recieving), P in V.

*Features a Time Skip*

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C -VAELYS TARGARYEN

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word Count: 5523

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

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8

As Vaelys cried out in agony, her voice piercing the air with the intensity of her pain, Vermithor, let out a thunderous roar that shook the very foundations of Dragonstone. His mighty roar seemed to echo the anguish of his rider, a primal cry that reverberated through the castle walls.

“Aemond” begged Vaelys her voice filled with desperation and longing. She knew he couldn't be with her, not now, not while he was in exile but still, she couldn't help but yearn for his presence, his strength, his love.

Rhaenyra and Helaena exchanged worried glances, their hearts breaking for Vaelys in her moment of need.

“I want AEMOND” screamed Vaelys, as she clutched at the sheets beneath her with white-knuckled fists, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as she fought against the agony that threatened to overwhelm her.

The sound of Vermithor's roar filled the birthing chamber, drowning out all other noise with its raw power and intensity. It was a sound born of empathy and solidarity, a testament to the bond that existed between dragon and rider.

Helaena knelt beside Vaelys' bed; her touch gentle as she reached out to grasp her hand. There was a warmth in her eyes, a silent reassurance that spoke volumes more than words ever could. In that moment of shared vulnerability, Helaena offered Vaelys the comfort of her presence, a silent reminder that she was not alone in her struggle.

Meanwhile, Rhaenyra stood on the other side of the bed, taking Vaelys' other hand in hers. Her touch was firm yet gentle, a grounding force amidst the storm of emotions that raged within her daughter's heart.

"You are stronger than you know, my dear," Rhaenyra said, her voice filled with conviction. "It might not seem like it now, but you can do this. You have the strength and the courage to face whatever comes your way."

"Aemond should be here," she sobbed, her words choked with anguish. "I need him-I can't do this without him."

The weight of her longing bore down on her, the absence of her beloved husband a gaping wound in her heart. Each wave of pain only served to amplify her yearning for his presence, for his strength, for his love.

"He should be the one holding my hand” cried Vaelys.

Rhaenyra clasped her daughter’s hand tighter, but her gaze fixed on a distant point beyond the confines of the birthing chamber. There was a tension in her posture, a guardedness in her demeanour, as if she held secrets too weighty to share.

"I know how much you long for Aemond to be here with you in this moment. He would give anything to be by your side, to share in the joy and pain of bringing new life into this world, and even though he can't be here physically, his love for you knows no bounds. He carries you in his heart, just as you carry him in yours” said Helaena, her words carrying a soothing warmth.

"Now I need you to focus your strength, Princess” urged Maester Gerardys, his voice a steady anchor amidst the tumult of emotions that swirled around them. "It's time. I need you to push."

With a guttural scream that echoed through the chamber, Vaelys pushed with all her might, her muscles straining against the weight of her labour. The roars of Vermithor outside grew louder and more intense, as if echoing the pain and determination coursing through her veins.

Helaena held tightly to Vaelys' hand, her own fingers trembling with emotion as she offered silent strength and support. Rhaenyra leaned in close, pressing gentle kisses to Vaelys' furrowed brow, her words of encouragement lost amidst the cacophony of noise.

The sheets beneath Vaelys were stained with blood, a stark reminder of the battle being waged within her body. Exhaustion threatened to overwhelm her, every fibre of her being screaming for respite. But still, she pushed, drawing upon a wellspring of inner strength she never knew she possessed.

And then, with one final, push, the babe emerged into the world, a tiny, wailing bundle of life. Vaelys collapsed back against the pillows, her chest heaving with exertion, tears of relief streaming down her cheeks.

Helaena's eyes widened in awe, Rhaenyra's breath caught in her throat, and even Vermithor's roars seemed to falter in the presence of the miracle before them.

"It's a boy," Maester Gerardys announced, his voice filled with wonder as he cradled the newborn in his arms.

As Vaelys gazed upon her son for the first time, a rush of emotion flooded her heart as she whispered, her voice barely a breath, "A son, Aemond-we have a son."

The babe was a vision of beauty, with silver hair that shimmered in the faint light of the birthing chamber and eyes the colour of amethyst, mirroring that of his father. In that moment, he looked the very image of Aemond.

As Rhaenyra and Helaena gathered around Vaelys and her newborn son, their hearts overflowing with love and joy, they knew that their family was forever changed. For in the face of new life, hope blossomed anew, filling the chamber with the promise of a brighter future for them all.

Rhaenyra's eyes shimmered with pride and joy as she looked down at her grandson cradled in her daughter’s arms.

"What are you going to call him?" she asked, her excitement palpable.

Vaelys' smile widened as she gazed upon her newborn son, her heart overflowing with love. "Daevyn," she replied, her voice filled with warmth. "It means freedom”.

The significance of the name was not lost on Helaena, who shared a knowing glance with Vaelys. Daevyn was the name that Aemond had chosen for a son before Sovia was born, he saw it as s symbol of hope and resilience.

Helaena's smile grew as she reached out to gently caress her nephew's cheek. "Prince Daevyn Targaryen," she declared proudly, her voice filled with pride.

Sovia, with her bright eyes and messy silver curls, toddled into the room, her tiny hand gripping a plush dragon toy tightly. She paused in the doorway, her gaze fixed on the bundle nestled in her mother's arms.

"Sweet girl," Vaelys whispered, her voice soft with affection, as she gestured for Sovia to come closer.

With cautious steps, Sovia approached her mother and the newborn babe, her curiosity piqued. She reached out a chubby hand, her fingers gently brushing against Daevyn's tiny fist.

Daevyn stirred at the touch, his eyelids fluttering open to reveal bright, amethyst eyes that mirrored Sovia's own. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he gazed up at his sister with wonder.

Sovia's face lit up with a radiant smile as she giggled with delight, her laughter filling the room like a melody. She leaned in closer, pressing a gentle kiss to Daevyn's forehead before settling down beside her mother to admire her new baby brother.

Vaelys' heart clenched with a mixture of longing and sorrow. She cradled Daevyn closer to her chest, her thoughts drifting to Aemond, who was still far away in exile.

In that bittersweet moment, Vaelys couldn't help but wonder if Aemond felt the same ache in his heart, the same longing to be with his family. She whispered a silent prayer, wishing for their reunion to come swiftly so they could share in the joys of parenthood together.

Vaelys walked along the sun-kissed shores of Dragonstone, the soft sand beneath her feet yielding with each step. Daevyn nestled snugly against her chest in a sling of cloth, his tiny breaths warming her skin with each exhale. Beside her, Sovia skipped along, her hand clasped tightly in hers, their footsteps leaving imprints in the sand.

Helaena strolled beside them, her three children darting ahead, their laughter mingling with the gentle lapping of the waves. Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, and Maelor chased each other along the shoreline, their playful antics painting the air with joy.

Behind them, Daeron kept a watchful eye, smiling as he observed his nieces and nephews.

As Sovia giggled and darted off to join her cousins in their playful chase along the shoreline, Vaelys couldn't help but pause for a moment, her gaze drifting across the vast expanse of the sea. A pang of longing tugged at her heart as she wondered quietly to herself: Is Aemond okay?

Sensing her turmoil, Helaena stepped closer, her presence a comforting anchor amidst Vaelys' inner turmoil. With a gentle touch, she wrapped an arm around Vaelys' shoulders, offering silent solace and reassurance.

"He's okay, Vaelys," Helaena murmured softly, her voice carrying the weight of conviction. "Aemond is strong, and he will come home to you".

Vaelys drew a shaky breath, her worries momentarily eased by Helaena's words of comfort. She leaned into her good sister's embrace, finding solace in the warmth of her presence.

Vaelys turned around and a flicker of panic shot through her chest at the sudden absence of Sovia. She scanned the beach frantically, her eyes darting from one spot to another, searching for any sign of her daughter amidst the swirling chaos of laughter and waves.

"Sovia?" she called out, her voice trembling with worry, the sound of her own heartbeat thundering in her ears.

Vaelys' heart pounded in her chest as she rushed over to Daeron, desperation etched into every line of her face.

"Daeron, where is she?" she demanded, her voice tinged with fear.

Daeron's expression mirrored her concern as he met her gaze, his eyes scanning the beach in search of any sign of Sovia.

"I... I took my eyes off her for just a second," he admitted, his voice filled with regret. "I didn't see where she went."

A surge of panic washed over Vaelys as she processed Daeron's words. She clutched Daevyn closer to her chest, her heart racing with fear for her missing daughter.

“Silver and wing, together the two will sing, an egg for a King” muttered Helaena her voice carrying a cryptic note that gave Vaelys pause.

Before Vaelys could question her further, a sudden roar pierced the air, reverberating through the surroundings with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

Their attention snapped to the source of the sound, their eyes widening in awe as a shadow passed overhead. Against the backdrop of the sky, the silhouette of a dragon emerged.

“Silverwing” exclaimed Vaelys her heart skipping a beat as she watched the beautiful silver dragon land on the beach with a thud.

But her wonder quickly turned to panic as she heard Sovia's giggles nearby.

"Sovia!" Vaelys cried out, her voice tinged with fear as she saw her daughter toddling toward the dragon, her tiny hand outstretched in curiosity.

Fear gripped Vaelys' heart as she raced forward, her maternal instincts urging her to protect her child. But to her astonishment, Silverwing lowered her head with a gentle grace, her eyes shimmering with warmth and affection as she regarded Sovia.

A sense of wonder washed over Vaelys as she watched the unlikely encounter unfold before her eyes. With cautious steps, Sovia approached the dragon, her laughter filling the air with joy as she reached out to touch Silverwing's scaled snout.

To Vaelys' astonishment, Silverwing responded with an affectionate purr, her massive head nuzzling against Sovia's tiny hand with a gentleness that belied her formidable size.

"I guess Silverwing has found her rider,” remarked Daeron quietly, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and admiration.

"She's not even two name days old," Vaelys murmured, her voice tinged with wonder as she watched Sovia interact with the majestic creature before her.

In Sovia's innocent laughter and Silverwing's gentle purrs, Vaelys saw the undeniable proof of a bond being formed.

Daeron's laughter rang out across the beach, a buoyant and infectious sound that filled the air with mirth and warmth.

"Imagine Aemond's face when he comes back and discovers that his daughter is the youngest Targaryen in our history to ever claim a full-grown dragon," he exclaimed, his voice laced with amusement. "The guy is going to be so insufferable!"

Vaelys couldn't help but chuckle at the thought, the image of Aemond's proud and boastful demeanour bringing a smile to her lips. She could already picture the gleam of pride in his eye as he regaled anyone who would listen with tales of Sovia's remarkable feat.

Vaelys' gaze shifted to Vermithor, who lay basking in the warmth of the sun, his massive form sprawled out lazily on the sand. With a hint of playful sarcasm, she addressed the dragon.

"Thanks for all your help," she remarked dryly, her tone tinged with amusement.

Vermithor, sensing the sarcasm in her words, cracked open one eye, and let out a low, rumbling huff in response, as if to say, "She’s fine."

Vaelys couldn't help but grin at her dragon's playful reaction, a sense of camaraderie passing between them.

Vaelys turned to Helaena, a flicker of concern crossing her features as she thought of her newborn son. "Sovia has her dragon now, but what about Daevyn?" she asked quietly, her voice tinged with worry.

Helaena smiled reassuringly, placing a comforting hand on Vaelys' shoulder. "Don't worry, Vaelys," she said gently. "Daevyn will have his dragon soon enough."

Vaelys nodded, her heart eased by Helaena's words. She knew that in time, Daevyn would find his own companion, a dragon to call his own. With a grateful smile, Vaelys turned her gaze back to Sovia and Silverwing, feeling a sense of peace wash over her as she watched them play together on the beach of Dragonstone.

The wind rushed past Vaelys' face as Vermithor soared through the skies, his powerful wings beating rhythmically against the currents. With Sovia securely fastened in the saddle in front of her and Daevyn strapped to her back, Vaelys felt a sense of exhilaration coursing through her veins as she flew with her children.

Beside them, Silverwing and Sapphyre soared gracefully, their scales gleaming in the sunlight as they danced through the clouds. Sovia, almost three years old now, squealed with delight, her laughter echoing through the air as she reached out to touch the sky.

"Look, Mama, look!" Sovia exclaimed, her eyes wide with wonder as she pointed to the world below.

Vaelys couldn't help but smile at her daughter's infectious joy, her heart swelling with pride at the sight of her children flying alongside her. Daevyn, just fifteen moons old, gazed wide-eyed at the world around him, his tiny fingers grasping at the air in excitement.

As the winds carried them higher into the clouds, Vaelys couldn't shake the memory of Helaena's comforting words. "Daevyn will have his dragon soon enough," a promise of hope and possibility that lingered in Vaelys' mind.

It wasn't long after that when Silverwing laid a clutch of eggs, each one a shimmering promise of new life. Among them was a single egg, chosen by some unspoken instinct, to be placed in Daevyn's cradle.

Days passed, marked by anticipation, for the egg to hatch. And then, one morning, as the first rays of dawn painted the sky with hues of pink and gold, the egg cracked open.

A dragon of silver and blue emerged from the shell, its scales gleaming in the early light as it stretched its wings and let out a triumphant roar. The little hatchling, bonding immediately with Daevyn, curling up at his side.

As time passed, Sapphyre grew swiftly, his scales shimmering in the sunlight as he stretched his wings and tested his strength. Despite his youth, he was already a good size for his age, his lithe form exuding a sense of grace and power that contradicted his tender years.

With each passing day, Vaelys watched with pride as Sapphyre honed his skills, his flights becoming more confident and his movements more fluid. He soared through the skies alongside his mother, Silverwing and Vermithor.

Together, the three dragons danced through the clouds, their wings beating in perfect harmony as they embraced the freedom of the open sky. And as they flew, Vaelys felt a sense of wonder wash over her, grateful for the beauty and magic of the dragons.

Vaelys stood on the sandy shores of Dragonstone, her heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. As she waited for Aemond's return, her mind drifted back to the night before he left, their final moments together etched into her memory.

"Meet me on the beach of Dragonstone," he had said, his voice filled with determination and longing.

In that moment, Vaelys had promised herself that she would wait for him, no matter how long it took. But now, as she stood there, the weight of uncertainty pressed down upon her, her thoughts swirling with doubts and fears.

What if Aemond didn't come? What if the two years apart had changed him, irrevocably altering the bond they shared?

The air seemed to grow heavy with her doubts, the silence stretching out before her like an endless abyss. But just as her fears threatened to consume her, a deafening roar shattered the stillness, echoing through the air with a force that sent shivers down her spine.

And then, Vhagar descended through the clouds, her majestic form cutting through the sky with a grace that defied description. In that moment, all of Vaelys' doubts melted away, replaced by a surge of hope and longing that burned brighter than the sun itself.

With tears of joy streaming down her cheeks, Vaelys watched as Vhagar landed on the beach.

Aemond began his descent down the rope ladder, his movements eager and impatient. But halfway down, his haste overtook him, and with a determined glint in his eye, he let go of the ladder and leapt down onto the soft sand below.

Vaelys stood there, stunned by the sight of her husband, his features etched with determination and longing. In the two years they'd been apart. Aemond had grown even more handsome, his sharp features softened by the warmth of his smile.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as Vaelys drank in the sight of him, her heart overflowing with love and longing. And as Aemond approached her with outstretched arms, she felt a surge of joy wash over her, and with a cry of joy, Vaelys sprinted across the sand toward Aemond, her heart pounding with excitement and anticipation. As she reached him, she leaped into his arms, her laughter mingling with his as they tumbled into the soft embrace of the sand below.

Giggling uncontrollably, Vaelys peppered kisses all over Aemond's face, her lips finding his cheeks, his forehead, and his nose in a flurry of affection and adoration. With each kiss, she felt the weight of their separation lift from her shoulders, replaced by an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude for the man who held her heart.

Aemond wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as they lay entwined in the sand, their laughter echoing across the beach.

Aemond's voice trembled with emotion as he spoke, his eye searching Vaelys' face for reassurance. "I was worried you wouldn't be waiting for me," he confessed, his words heavy with the weight of his fears. "That the years apart would mean you no longer loved me, that you had taken another husband-"

But Vaelys shook her head, her eyes shining with love and devotion as she reached out to cup his cheek. "It's you, Aemond," she whispered, her voice soft but filled with conviction. "It's always been you."

With those words hanging in the air between them, Aemond's fears melted away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of relief and gratitude. And as their lips met in a passionate kiss, the world around them faded into insignificance, leaving only the two of them entwined in each other's embrace, their love stronger than ever before.

"Brother!"

Aemond turned to see Daeron and Helaena hurrying towards them, their faces alight with joy and relief. With a smile spreading across his face, Aemond rose to his feet, pulling Vaelys up beside him as he greeted his siblings.

With open arms, Aemond embraced Daeron and Helaena, pulling them into a tight hug. The warmth of their reunion enveloped them, filling the air with a sense of familial love and unity.

Tears of happiness glistened in Daeron's eyes as he clapped Aemond on the back, his voice thick with emotion. "It's good to have you back, brother," he said, his words echoing the sentiments of everyone present.

Helaena joined in the embrace, her eyes shining with unshed tears as she held her brother close. "We missed you," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

With their arms wrapped around each other, the three of them stood together on the beach of Dragonstone, united once more.

As Aemond's gaze scanned the surroundings, his eyes fell upon a small figure standing with Ceci near the steps, a little girl with silver curls cascading down her shoulders. His heart skipped a beat as he recognized her instantly.

"S-Sovia?" Aemond stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. His daughter—his precious little girl—stood before him, but she was no longer the baby he remembered. She had grown so much in the two years he had been away, her silver curls just as wild and untamed as ever.

Stunned, Aemond approached her slowly, his steps faltering as he reached out a trembling hand. But Sovia, shy and unsure, backed away, seeking refuge behind Vaelys' protective embrace.

His heart aching with longing, Aemond knelt down before her, his eyes filled with love and longing. "Byka grēges," he whispered softly (Little bug).

At the sound of her father's voice, Sovia's eyes widened in recognition, and then, as if a dam had burst, she uttered a single word that filled Aemond's heart with boundless joy.

"Daddy."

With a cry of delight, Sovia threw herself into Aemond's waiting arms, her laughter ringing out like music on the breeze.

As Aemond basked in the joy of reuniting with Sovia, Vaelys stepped back, allowing father and daughter a few precious moments together. She watched them with a tender smile, her heart swelling with love and gratitude for the sight before her.

But as the moments passed, Vaelys knew it was time to share another precious gift with Aemond—their son, Daevyn. With a gentle nod to Ceci, she took her son into her arms, feeling the weight of his tiny form against her chest.

Taking a deep breath, Vaelys turned to face Aemond, her heart fluttering with nervous anticipation. She could see the stunned expression on his face as his gaze fell upon the boy in her arms.

"I-Is he?" Aemond's voice was barely a whisper, his eyes wide with disbelief and wonder.

With a soft smile, Vaelys nodded, her heart overflowing with joy. "Yes," she replied, her voice trembling with emotion. "This is your son. His name is Daevyn, born nine moons after you left."

As Aemond took in the sight of his son for the first time, his initial shock quickly gave way to a surge of overwhelming emotion. His heart pounded with a mixture of disbelief and anger, his mind struggling to process the revelation before him.

He had a son—a son he never knew existed. The realization hit him like a bolt of lightening, filling him with a sense of betrayal and fury. How could this have happened? How could his wife have given birth to their child without his knowledge?

His anger simmered, threatening to boil over as he grappled with the enormity of the situation. He knew it wasn't Vaelys' fault—she had been left in the dark just as much as he had. But still, the injustice of it all gnawed at him, fuelling the flames of his rage.

His gaze hardened as he turned his thoughts to Rhaenyra, the woman who had sent him away, tearing him from his family and his home. It was her decree that had forced him into exile, robbing him of the chance to witness the birth of his own son.

Bitterness welled up inside him as he thought of the time lost, the moments stolen from him by forces beyond his control. Anguish mingled with fury as he cursed the circumstances that had kept him apart from his loved ones, leaving him to wallow in ignorance while life carried on without him.

"Aemond," she began softly, her voice filled with warmth and compassion, "Would you like to hold Daevyn?"

Aemond's gaze flickered to his son, in Vaelys' arms, his features serene and innocent. For a moment, the storm of anger and resentment that brewed within him threatened to consume him entirely. But then, with a heavy sigh, he nodded silently, his resolve to confront Rhaenyra simmering beneath the surface for the time being.

Wordlessly, Vaelys carefully transferred Daevyn into Aemond's waiting arms, her touch gentle and reassuring. As their son nestled against his chest, Aemond felt a wave of tenderness wash over him, mingling with the anger and frustration that still lingered in his heart.

The soft glow of candlelight cast a warm ambiance over the small dinner gathering, illuminating the faces of those gathered around the table. Vaelys sat at the head, her radiant smile lighting up the room as she doted on their children, Sovia, and Daevyn.

Beside her, Aemond watched with a sense of overwhelming gratitude, his heart swelling with love as he beheld the sight of his family together once more. Daeron sat across from him, a grin on his face as he regaled the table with tales of his time at Old Town and how he once filled Lord Ormund’s boots with manure, his laughter filling the air.

Helaena sat beside her brother, with Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, and Maelor by her side, their youthful energy adding to the lively atmosphere of the evening. Aemond couldn't help but smile as he watched them interact, their laughter and chatter a soothing melody that filled him with a sense of peace.

As he looked around the table at the faces of those, he loved the most, Aemond felt a surge of contentment wash over him.

He watched as Vaelys tended to their children with a grace and tenderness that took his breath away, her love for them evident in every gesture and smile. In that moment, Aemond fell in love with her all over again, grateful beyond words for the woman who had stood by his side through thick and thin.

As the evening stretched on and the laughter continued to flow, Aemond found himself lost in the warmth of the moment, his anger towards Rhaenyra could wait because he was home at last.

As soon as the door was closed, Aemond was on her, he wrapped his hand around Vaelys’ throat and pressed her against the wall.

“I can’t wait any longer ābrazȳrys, I need to have you” exclaimed Aemond (Wife).

“-Pār gūrogon issa “ replied Vaeryna as Aemond suddenly lunged forward and pressed his lips to hers (Then take me).

Their kiss was rough and desperate. Consisting of teeth and tongue.

It was an eruption of frustration and passion. Hands everywhere, grabbing, scratching, and pulling at one another.

Aemond spun Vaelys around and pressed her face against the wall, with one hand on the back of her neck and the other quickly untying the laces of his breeches.

Gods, he was so fucking hard, he'd been hard the moment he saw his wife again, and in truth if Daeron and Helaena hadn't of been there, he would have fucked Vaelys in the sand.

Aemond nudged her ankle with his foot, signalling for her to open her legs wider.

His body covered hers as he sucked and licked the delicate skin of her neck, leaving red marks in his wake.

Vaelys moved her head to the side and moaned loudly as she felt Aemond’s teeth nipping at her skin.

“Two years-two fucking years I’ve waited-“ growled Aemond.

“Kostilus” begged Vaelys (Please).

"Two years with nothing but my own hand-I fucked my fist everynight, thinking of you"

Aemond pulled up his wife’s skirts and slipped his fingers into her small clothes.

“Fuck” moaned Aemond, gods she was so wet that he almost spilled in his breeches.

Aemond ran his hand up and down the hard length of himself, eyeing his wife with an animalistic hunger, a smirk on his lips as she bent forward for him.

He pulls aside her small clothes as he guides himself to her entrance, she barely has a moment to adjust before he is pressing his cock forcefully inside and stretching her.

“THAT’S IT!” groaned Aemond.

Vaelys couldn’t think of anything but the intense pounding thrusts, Aemond set a brutal pace, his hips crashing into hers, his hard cock reaching deep inside her.

Then he withdrew from her and span her around, lifting her into his arms, his mouth pressed against hers as he quickly sheathed himself back inside her.

“YES! YES! AEMOND!” screams Vaelys.

“FUCK!” shouts Aemond as he feels her cunny clenching around his cock.

He withdraws from her again, making her whimper in frustration.

But Aemond ignored her as he laid her on the chaise lounge and fell to his knees.

Sliding his calloused hands up her legs, bunching the fabric of her small clothes in his hand before he rips them from her body.

“Aemond” shrieked Vaelys as Aemond’s mouth descends on her cunny.

Ravenously, he pressed into his wife’s core with his tongue, in and out, much faster than his cock ever could.

Still gasping, Vaelys clutched at his head with one hand, her other digging into the fabric of the chaise.

Aemond withdrew from her soaking wet core and lashed hard at her clitoris with his tongue, pulling on it with his lips. He was hard, fast and brutal, alternating between her assaulted bundle of nerves and drinking deep from her cunt.

Vaelys ground down on Aemond, hard; his tongue speared deeper inside her, and she felt the warm curl of her peak approach.

Aemond growled, deep in his throat. The vibration of his vocal cords rippled through to his tongue and Vaelys gasped; she felt every vibration keenly. Her body tensed for her peak– But Aemond pulled away from her and smirked, his chin shining with her slick.

“A-Aemond” gasped Vaelys, the tears of frustration spilling down her cheeks.

“Be a good little wife and take what your husband gives you” said Aemond as he reached for the laces of her dress before he grew impatient and tore it from her body, leaving her body bare before him.

His own hands moving to his own breeches and shirt, removing them as quick as he could before he surged forward and worshipped his wife’s breasts. His tongue licking at the stiffened rosy peaks

“P-Please. Husband” sobbed Vaelys as she felt his hard cock sliding against her folds.

“Hmm” growled Aemond as he wrapped his hand around his wife’s throat and sheathed himself inside her once more.

“God. Yes. Aemond” moaned Vaelys.

He began to thrust in and out of her in deep achingly slow thrusts.

“Your cunt is dripping, it's so beautiful” sighed Aemond.

Slowly thrusting back and forth. Over and over, withdrawing further each time, until his cock entirely withdrew from her warm wet entrance. He marvelled at her body. Such a beautiful, succulent thing his wife was. Allowing him entry into the most sacred parts of her body.

Aemond began to fuck her in earnest, his fingers digging into the flesh of her throat, using her as leverage as he repeatedly plunged his cock into her cunny, over, thrilled to hear Vaelys’ moans of need echoing around their chambers.

His thrusts, brutal and unrelenting.

“Come for me, love” breathed Aemond.

Vaelys screamed as her desperately needed peak exploded from her body, making every limb tremble as her body bucked around Aemond’s cock.

Gods, he needed to spill his seed, but not like this.

So, with his cock still nestled inside her, Aemond manoeuvred himself into a sitting position with Vaelys on his lap.

“Give me another-I want you to come on my cock again” growled Aemond.

Vaelys ran her hands over the defined muscles of his chest, her nails digging into his pale skin.

“Oh” gasped Vaelys as she rolled her hips against Aemonds.

“That’s it baby, take it. Take all of me”.

Aemond placed his hands on Vaelys’ hips and marvelled at his wife as she rode him.

Vaelys dug her nails into Aemond’s chest as she moved her hips against his, his cock hitting the sweet spot inside her perfectly.

“A-Aemond” moaned Vaelys as he moved his hand to her breasts and once again took one of her nipples into his mouth, his teeth gently grazing the rosy bud.

“Let go baby, I can feel you clenching around me” exclaimed Aemond, as he moved to the other breast and lavished it with the same attention as the other.

Vaelys’ thighs began to burn, as she felt her second peak approach.

“AEMOND” screamed Vaelys her vision going white as she came around his cock.

“God. Vaelys” groaned Aemond as he exploded. His cock throbbing and twitching as he finally spilled his seed inside her, collapsing against the chaise, breathing hard.

It took a good while for Aemond to regain his senses. Meanwhile his wife had collapsed against him, her face pressed into his neck.

"Rest a while ābrazȳrys and I shall have you again-we've got two years to make up for" rasped Aemond (Wife).

96 notes · View notes

cheesus-doodles · 10 months

Note

Kazutora moving in with reader?

Kazutora is beaten up after a particularly bad fight with his dad, he runs off somewhere alone, reader finds him, he spills his guts about his home life, and reader just decides he's moving in with her. Kazutora, while surprised, isn't complaining. Maybe uses not being used to a safe and stable home environment to get as much TLC from the reader as possible.

And yan!platonic!toman's reaction to finding out? Sure they see reader all the time and she makes lunch boxes for them, but Kazutora never has to say goodbye at the end of the day? Gets breakfast, lunch, dinner and dessert from her? Unlimited cuddles and alone time? Sleeping in the same bed? Being the first thing he sees every morning? It's like they're a married couple!

Kazutora's planning their future wedding while Mikey's throwing the fit to end all fits.

dkjfnsfsdjnfkljsnfjlskdn i love this ahhhhh took my breath away when i saw it come in :') softness...been a hot minute since i got this but i hope yall like it! been pretty sick these two weeks, apologies for the silence (psa: this is not edited, will edit when I wake tmr zzzz)

‎‎

A Relief from the Rain

Yandere Platonic Toman

Masterlist

‎‎

Two days.

Two days was all it took for the group's goodwill towards Kazutora to completely collapse despite there being little change to their regular program.

“No! I refuse! I forbid it!”

You simply sighed, combing your fingers through the blond locks of one pouting Tokyo Manji Gang President who you were attempting to calm down, the image of him stomping his foot like a toddler a far cry from the well-feared delinquent that he was. "Come on, Mikey, don't be like that." Even to an outside eye, it was clear that you were well-used to the antiques of your dear friends, with the way you had the fussy boy bundled in your arms and the soothing repetitive movements of your hands through his hair, yet this situation was getting out of hand for you.

As if on cue, your appeals only fell on deaf ears, with Mikey no less upset about the sudden new arrangement that had befallen your home than when the day had started. "No!"

Whimpering, the clutch that Kazutora had on the fabric of your shirt only grew tighter as he buried his face into your back, the feeling of dampness touching your skin once more as the blue and backs that littered his skin had just begun to fade almost seem to glow under your kitchen lights. "I don't want to go home," he whined. "I want to stay here." One look at your face made it clear you thought the same.

There was no doubt that the Toman founders had known what Kazutora was going through at home. Being delinquents themselves with an extensive history of fighting, they certainly could tell when a bruise was from the impact of a hand rather than that of an accidental run-in with the wall; and that would be if they hadn't had the...pleasure of running head first into their friend's sperm donor.

The boys understood. Really. None of them came from what society would deem conventional families, and even if they didn't live through the hell that was domestic abuse, they could sympathize.

A clack as Baji all but gritted his teeth in a bid to keep his trap shut, Draken's arms shaking with the force of his grip on his shirt in an attempt to not just rip the injured Kazutora off of you and hurl him through a window. They understood, but when it came to you and your very limited and carefully allocated time, any sympathy they had went straight out the window.

But no matter their aggravation, you didn't seem keen on giving in; not after the state that you had found your friend in, and definitely not after you had found out what he (and to an extent, the rest of your Toman friends) had been hiding from you.

‎

“Tory? Is that you?”

Your voice cut through the cacophony of rain pattering down the narrow side alley. It had been a miserable Thursday afternoon two days ago, gloomy clouds hanging low from the sky. The unusually heavy droplets of water hitting a jumble of metal, brick and concrete surfaces alike on their way back down to earth that had previously drowned out the grating voices in his head now only served to carry your words along the otherwise soulless alley. Combined with the splash of small puddles that had pooled up amidst the flat cement floor as your light footsteps grew closer, the usually comforting, rhythmic sounds only served to churn up his gut further.

“Tory?” Kazutora didn’t respond. There was no hiding his signature gold and black hair, even if it was flattened by the dampness, and it was only clearer and clearer that it was him as you continued to approach. But the boy instead found himself wishing against hope that you would simply leave him alone, turn around and return to whatever it was you had been doing; a first since he had come to know you.

The shadow of your umbrella shade fell over him. A pause, you seemingly thinking what to say. The world stilled. "Are you alright? Cold?"

A sniffle, a whimper. It was all he could reply with as he shifted to wrap his arms tighten around himself, face pressed firmly into his knees, darkening bruises and bleeding scratches hidden away below the fabric of his drenched clothes, his two black eyes throbbing. The concern in your tone was warm, homely yet heart-wrenching at the same time: the last thing he wanted was for you to see him in a state like this. But he knew you well - and you were one of those just too stubborn to leave without an answer.

As far as you had been concerned, Kazutora's home life didn't exist.

Not that it didn't of course, the boy still unfortunately needing somewhere to return to lay his head once the night grew too old should it not be his turn for cuddles at yours. No matter what awaited him behind the dreaded front door to his house, when it came to you, there was nothing for you to know between the moment your friend disappeared off the streets and when he appears once more the next morning, either in the kitchen already making a ruckus or cuddled up as close as he could against you in your bed, fast asleep.

And Kazutora had been happy for it to stay this way. Lying to you one too many times on where all the bruising on his arms came from and why he had another black eye wasn’t easy to stomach sure, but your pity was something he didn’t mind receiving in heaps. No, this crybaby was happy to thrive off of your generous kindness and your endless affection for your friends. What he didn’t want, however, was to sully those innocent doe eyes with even the mere idea that the world could be so horrid, to dim the spark in your eyes that gave him a reason to face the worst of what life could throw at him.

But alas, the hand of destiny had a different idea from him, and now here he was, stuck in a situation Kazutora didn't want you to be in. He had always powered through alone, suffering for the light that came the next day with your return to his life. What were you going to think? What could he say?

‎‎

At least you didn’t seem to mind the waiting or the damp. A huff, followed a soft thud accompanied by a splash of water; the telltale audible cues of you sitting down next to him. The rain failed to continue to pelt his wrapped form, most likely shielded by the canopy of your umbrella that you so generously shared with you silent unmoving friend; the soft, calming hum that fell from your lips like it always did was barely audible over nature’s cacophony if Kazutora strained his ears. Content with simply being present and by his side, you didn’t press him for answers, didn’t force him to hurry. Letting him take his time to open up to you.

The storm had started to die down by the time the delinquent finally moved - the first signs of life and response from the unusually silent boy you had received since your arrival in the overlooked alleyway. "Are you going to be mad at me?" The sudden words that punctuated quiet whirl of air-conditioning compressor of units overhead seemed to take even you by surprise.

You blinked. "Mad?" You echoed. "Why would I be mad at you, Tory?"

He hesitated for a moment, before almost shyly lifting his head just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his face. You gasped. Usually unblinking sandy brown eyes were purple-black and swollen shut, with a splatter of sickly yellowish green bruises littering his forehead, as if dealt out in retaliation for protecting his face. What happened? Did he get jumped by a rival gang?

Swallowing hard, it took everything you had to erase the visible anxiety from your expression - it was clear that your friend was in a pretty bad shape. But he never did like you having to worry about him: Kazutora had always been the big, bad delinquent that protected you after all. You took a few deep breaths, waiting till your tone was calm and even before you spoke once more. "Do you need to go to the hospital, Tory?"

It wasn't the right time to ask what happened, not yet, but it was clear that those injuries at least needed a minimum amount of treatment. A pause, and then Kazutora shook his head. You nodded, standing. Brushing did little to clear the dirt from your damp skirt, but you hardly noticed, a bright smile lighting up your face as you offered a hand to your friend. "Then you're coming with me. Come on, let's get you to mine."

‎‎‎

“And so Kazutora’s staying with me for the time being,” you finished.

Though strange it might be for you to initiate and call your Toman friends to your house as oppose to them turning up uninvited, the five delinquents had been more than happy to answer. What they walked into, however, quickly wiped any trace of cheer from their faces - finding a beaten and bruised Kazutora huddled up with a cup of hot chocolate in your living room told them everything that they already needed to know.

Mikey's eyes went unnervingly empty, his lips dangerously pressed and downturned. "He went another round with you?"

Your eyes slid expectantly down to Kazutora, who only returned a single nod. "Another?" You questioned. There was no doubt that everyone was always on the same page as you - and your friends had already known about this.

"Mikey's dealt with him before," Draken clarified.

To say you had been displeased with what you had learnt would be the understatement of the century. Your normal friendly, calm - human - expression cracked, and the temperature seemed to drop along with your smile. "He hit you before?"

Another pause, and then another quiet nod from Kazutora.

You stood almost robotically, your hand shooting to wrap around the closest weapon to you: the television remote controller clutched in your fingers gleaming menacingly. "Right, Tory, we're going to get your things."

‎‎

But that was two days ago. Two days since you had picked up Kazutora from the streets like he was a stray, two days since they had witnessed the downright frightening side of you that the Toman founders would pray never to see again (they didn't even know a remote could used to hurt that way). Two days that they had to endure without even a fraction of the attention that each boy usually got from you, having to watch someone else take that comfort away from them. It didn't matter that Kazutora was one of them - no, now he was the enemy.

Thursday nights were supposed to have been your assigned "alone time", which meant that none of your Toman friends were supposed to be staying over. Yet long after the sun had set and the night was threatening to grow old, after you had already spent the whole day fussing over that wretched mob of duo-colored hair, the rest had to watch, enviously, jealously, as Kazutora followed you upstairs while the rest of them had to leave your home.

And today was already Saturday.

"I'm gonna change your bandage, okay Tory?"

Mitsuya tsked at the whimper you got in response, though the lilac-haired boy was quick to turn his face away when you looked up in confusion. Kazutora was milking your soft heart for everything it's worth, and the other five Toman boys could see through him like paper.

Baji was more direct, hand shooting out to grab onto the sleeve of your shirt, tugging the fabric as pathetically as he could. "I'm hungry," the boy complained, and as if on cue, his stomach grumbled. Planned of course, given he skipped dinner earlier just to get to your house on an empty stomach; knowing that only Kazutora got all three meals home-cooked by you and no one else was a travesty in itself. "Starving."

It was usually enough to get your attention, enough for you to drop everything, yet you were undeterred, opting to give Baji's hair a tussle before returning to your original task. "Give me a minute, okay, Baji? I'll get dinner once I'm done here."

A glance back at Kazutora would reveal his blown eyes, the daydream (or vision, if anyone cared to ask the boy) of a white hall and you dressed in white glittering in those sandy brown eyes for all to see: Kazutora was sure your wedding to him was all but written in stone now. After all, he already got to cuddle with you every night (for one night), to wake up to your peaceful face first thing in the morning, plus food? Look how well you were already treating him, he wanted to crow to the others. It was like you and him were already married.

And the others knew. They knew what he was thinking, and it only wrenched up their annoyance even further. Why couldn't you see through what Kazutora was doing?

‎‎‎

One smirk sent Mikey's way was enough to light the fire.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” Mikey roared, launching himself at Kazutora, only to be caught mid-air by Draken to stop him crashing face-first into you, who had been quick to step between the two boys, your eyebrows pinched together.

"Mikey!"

“But but-” The blond boy pouted, thrusting one finger at Kazutora, who was now cowering behind your delicate form. “He pulled a face at me!”

"He's already hurt!" You insisted, shuffling Kazutora behind you protectively.

It was as if Mikey hadn't heard you at all, his thoughts still clinging on to the sole point that the whole fuss had started. "No! I refuse!"

You looked perplexed, taken aback by the insistence. "No?"

"I forbid it! I want to move in too!"

You blinked, your head instinctively tilting as you looked at the fuming Toman President. "You want to move in? Like into my house?"

"It's not fair that only Kazutora gets to stay here!"

"But you have your own home, Mikey." You placated, but the delinquent was persistent, crossing his arms and stomping again.

"He can take my room, I want to stay here with you!"

"And since Mikey brought it up," Draken continued, cheeky smile now plastered across his face as he set the other back onto the ground. "I'll like to move in too."

"Bastard!" Baji cursed. "I'm moving in too!"

Mitsuya and Pah nodded along, though it was clear that Pah still wasn't quite sure what was going on.

You glanced around at them. "You can't all move in!" You exclaimed, scratching the back of your neck in confusion. "I don't have the room for all of you."

But the stubbornness and persistence that you had once admired of your friends came back to haunt you like a curse, Mikey huffing as he plopped down on your living room floor, sprawling with all four limbs. "I'm not leaving, I don't care. You can't make me."

Baji followed suit in agreement, taking up more space with his spread eagle pose.

"Should I tie myself to the sofa?" Pah wondered out loud, Mitsuya breaking into a laugh at his question.

Not being able to help yourself, your confusion gave way to a giggle as you chuckled at your friends' antics. Ah, you finally got it; you should known better honestly. All this time, their jealousy and envy had been written all across their faces.

"All right, all right, I got your point."

Mikey shot up. "I can move in?"

"No, but-" You held up one finger, interrupting what you knew was another protest starting. "If you boys help to clear out the guest room, Kazutora can stay there instead."

Said boy's vocal disagreement was smothered by the cheers of 'Out!', and you paused to allow them to finish before you continued. "As I was saying, Tory will continue to stay with me until he is recovered and has somewhere to go, but we'll return to our usual schedule." Offering one hand to Mikey, you tousled Kazutora's hair in apology as he clung to you, insisting that he needed cuddles to recover. "Deal?"

The echo of the clap resounded throughout the house.

379 notes · View notes

scara-meow-che · 1 year

Text

𝗡𝗢𝗪 𝗟𝗜𝗩𝗘 ┃ sweet little thing with yae miko

CW. NSFW (MDNI), afab! reader, name-calling (pup, puppy, little thing), oral (character receiving), mentions of virginity, abuse of authority, corruption kink

AN. reposted work. gAH the way i was so downbad for yae when i made this. i swear when i saw her at the shrine, i legit almost barked for her <3 still full heart eyes for her.

ignorance is bliss.

that's what they all said to you, eyes softening whenever you peered up with doe-looking ones. your head tilting to the side, lips inquiring about every thought that ran past your head that fast to make your points.

you never once held yourself back from knowing what's more to know. being taught there's nothing wrong in exploring what this world has to offer. an adorable glow of curiosity blooms inside your heart, garnering the image of purity and innocence.

innocence is bliss.

that's what yae miko had thought the moment she saw you at the shrine, paying the chief priestess herself a visit after hearing her help with one of your close relative's dilemma with possession. then came next when a person with high status dared visit the humble home to announce how you were chosen by the great guuji to be one of the new shrine maidens. ah, the way your eyes sparkled when she uttered your name, she can never live down the image of purity in you.

for all things pure in this world can never escape the grudge of corruption. ruination is inevitable but that doesn't matter for—

yae miko wishes to be the one to ruin you herself.

honor, it was truly an honor to work alongside yae in the shrine. all your life, you've always been drawn to the beauty and mystery hidden in the beliefs and customs here in inazuma. your parents had wholeheartedly supported your departure, bidding you with such charms and letters, and the chief priestess smiles at the enthusiasm expressed by your family on the day she set foot in your home.

"ah, our sweet little f/n is finally going to do big things!" said your father where your dear mother adds, "yes, it feels like yesterday when you were our little girl."

the sweet messages had warmed your heart, face flushing as you get showered by almost everyone from the little community there in konda village. the elderly were in awe, waving with such soft smiles on their faces. the ever-curious yet beaming with innocence l/n f/n is finally going to do big things! such luck may bring prosperity to the village and the people can never ask for more!

and that's what you thought, the moment you followed yae through the path to the shrine. hands clutched tight on the small bag you carry as you were told that they are the ones to provide you with clothing. you needn't worry about anything, that's what they assured you, and yet your mind dances on the edges of your interest.

but you stopped yourself, not wanting to interrupt lady yae to her musings. you do not wish to ruin the gentleness in her eyes, looking back at you as she showed you around inside the shrine and led you to your quarters. you do not question why she would lay a hand on your shoulders, leaving a gentle squeeze as she bids you good night for the first night in narukami shrine.

you kept your lips screwed shut and eagerly observed what's bound to happen next yet your eyes would always daringly shimmer in the wonders you kept on absorbing as you follow the head priestess around like a puppy.

yes, you did not once question why she'd always refer to you as a puppy.

"come here, pup," it was yet again one night where she told you to visit her in the privacy of her room. a short whisper in the morning would grow magnitudes of screams inside your head as you let her simple orders affect your daily duties. questions had blossomed in your heart yet as your lungs tried to exhale it all out, your lips would keep themselves shut and you'd fail in expressing every word you dearly wanted to say.

"yes, my lady." an obedient nod and a short answer were all you could give as a way to acknowledge her orders. slowly, you made your way to yae who was clad in a loose white kimono that looked gloriously on her body.

as you reached the ends of her bed, her dainty fingers had beckoned you to go closer, and closer, and closer until you stood beside her bed frame. the gentle candle lights of the room had her skin glowing so beautifully, her pupils dilating and her eyes shining as she looks at you with emotions you aren't sure of.

"would you obey whatever i say, pup?" she asks, her hand making its way up from your stomach and all the way to the middle of your chest. she smiles when she sees you trembling, nodding when she let her finger slide against your breasts.

"m-my lady..." the short break from your voice had aroused yae more than she could ever have imagined before, her lips letting out a satisfied sigh before she rubs small circles on your nipple that peaks through the thin fabric of your shirt. "t-this isn't right..."

you felt conflicted when yae didn't stop flicking and circling the pad of her pointer finger on your nipple, biting down your lips to prevent the prurient and sinful noises you knew you'd been producing. yae watches you in awe, loving how reactive you are to her touches.

"hm? do you think that what i'm doing is... wrong, sweet f/n?"

you slowly shake your head as you can't make up another thought when she now uses two of her fingers to pinch at your sensitive buds, causing a loud squeal from your shaking body.

"ah, where are your manners. everyone at the shrine is already sleeping, f/n." her voice was gentle, so, so gentle you can't keep yourself composed when she easily had you under her control.

your lady yae had always been there to share her thoughts, and her strong opinions on different pressing matters none had ever discussed with you during your time as a normal inazuman. no one had dared cross in shedding you towards the light of knowledge but lady yae had been there to inform you of the things she knew you were fawning over.

but was it really the light you had been longing to know of? or was it this twisted darkness you know you can no longer turn your back from once it had corrupted your sweet and innocent mind?

"i think i ought to teach you a way you can make use of your noisy mouth... would you want to know what it is, you sweet little thing?"

corruption, and addiction. the sweet taste of you being ruined by none other than her own exploitation on your curious and naive mind—she shudders just thinking how she personally has her own obedient puppy.

her question had your mind buzzing in gullible inquisitiveness, the weakness she knew how to take advantage of had you leaning towards her body, slowly moving down to your knees, and patiently waiting for her next command. "yes, my lady. please, tell me."

the desire to know and the thirst to enlighten had glowed in both your eyes.

"very well then," she beams with the dreamy quirk of her lips, lilac orbs dilating as she spreads her legs open and propped herself to have you facing her already glistening sex. you were surprised to see her lady not wearing any undergarments but as soon as her fingers slip down from the middle of her body, the same fingers that had prodded and teased your nipples, made their way down to part her lower lips that came along with a breathy moan.

you never said another word, your eyes were more than enough to express multitudes of the questions you wanted to ask while you gaze at all her glory. she was flushed pink, smooth as your eyes scanned everything you want to know about her lady but never once did you go ahead to satiate the curiosity you've always had. you let yae herself be the one to show you, to inform you, to do what you longed for the people to do for you.

"no one ever had the heart to tell you what there is to know out there, am i right f/n?"

you saw how she rubs the little nub protruding off her sex, that one place you once accidentally touched and felt the jolt of electricity shocking your body. she now answered another of your questions by hearing her softly moan out your name, her finger gliding up and down the same spot before she pushes it deeper inside her cunt.

your eyes had glowed in worry, knowing how you once poked the little hole of your body and the sting had hurt you so much. and yae knew just exactly as what you were thinking off, spreading her legs as wide as she can and lets her whole finger sink and disappear inside of her.

"there's no need for such trepidation to worry your head, f/n. i can also show you how to do this without hurting yourself," she offers with a very calm tone, even when her chest rises up and down and her breathing got a little ragged when she added a second finger. "but first, i have to teach you how you'd use your mouth from now on, okay?"

"yes, my lady."

"good, now, kiss me... here." baffled, you blinked two, three times before you tilt your head to the side and looked at where she was pointing at. she had her free hand resting on the middle of her thighs, clearly indicating where she wanted you to start from.

"don't be shy, i'll always guide you."

you felt so reassured and at that moment, you gained such confidence to let your lips press gentle pecks on her skin, her small little sighs blessing you with such sounds you wanted to hear more. and you never let a patch of her soft and smooth skin left unscathed by your kisses, her hands brushing your hair had to encourage you to leave open-mouthed ones as she had told you to do.

"there, you're so good, f/n. my sweet puppy so eager to listen and obey. now, i want you to start kissing me down.... here," she instructs with her fingers spreading her pussy lips. "then you'd use your tongue to lick me, is that understood?"

and, as obedient as ever, you nodded before moving down to her crotch, continuing to trail down your kisses until you reached the skin of her cunt drenched with her own arousal.

"yes, kiss me right there and lick okay?" yae's voice was soft yet held amounts of control in every syllable she uttered as you started doing what you were told to do. at first, you felt odd to have your mouth pressed down to her sex but seeing yae generously giving you praises was so rewarding on its own.

she would constantly hum, her teeth would sink on her lips to keep in the whimpers she was bound to let go of once you began licking on her clit. just as you've seen earlier, she had used a fair amount of time rubbing it, swirling her fingers at a torturously slow pace.

and that's what you did, you used your tongue to mimic what she did earlier. and when you'd look up, you are given the view of your lady with her eyes closed, her fox ears twitching delightedly, an enticing smile on her face. as you dap and slurp on her clit, you can taste how sweet she is and that fuels more of the insatiable appetite this desire to see more reactions from your lady.

"i-i never knew you'd be so g-good at this, f/n. hnngg... there, just like that." yae snakes her hand towards your well-kept hair, the smooth ends are now tangled between her fingers as she pushed you deeper between her legs. your hands had instinctively gone to grab a hold of her thighs as she had both her legs squeezing your head went your tongue had scraped so lightly on her puckering and dripping hole.

"want you to put your tongue inside of me, can you do that?"

the urgency in her voice and the way she peered down at you was addicting, dominating your sense of logic as it frayed away into nothing but complete obedience as a way of showing such gratitude to your lady.

with a brief nod of your head, you started to poke out your tongue and let it enter the entrance to her cunt. so sweet, she both taste and smell so sweet while your nose brushes so roughly on her clit when yae had gripped on your hair and let her maneuvered your head to thrusting up and down her needy cunt.

"do you know now, f/n? starting from today, you're about to learn a lot of things from me. i will teach you everything you need to learn while you are under my care, okay?"

as close as you were getting lost inside her cunt, yae had pulled your from your hair and waited for your reply. and there it was, the look you always give when you get the answers to your question, the look she grew fond of and addicted to seeing.

doe eyes shimmering in interest, lips grinning but glows faintly from the juices covering your skin, chest going up and down from how breathless you were at that moment. the start of corruption, all thanks to her.

she would use everything of her power just to see you look at her like that even when it means to defile what innocence was left unsullied by those around you. she would have the utmost pleasure to be the only person that has corrupted the angel they once thought to be.

oh, she won't let anyone take your purity. she won't allow anyone to hold such power over you.

"my sweet little thing, i am looking forward to all the time we're bound to share with one another."

#⇲ full streams #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #yae miko smut #yae miko x reader smut #yae smut #miko smut #tw corruption #corruption tw #tw abuse of power #abuse of power tw #i forgot to tag my warnings sorry

670 notes · View notes

childesglove · 1 year

Text

Did You Cheat On Me? Revenge Taste Bitter (Part 2)

Summary: Childe thought you had cheated on him and he decided he was going to take revenge, even if it hurts both of you. Now that he realised he made a mistake, how can he ever fix this?

Read Part 1

Tags: Angst with comfort, Hurt, Implied Violence, Reader has anxiety attack, not proof read, verbal abuse, a lot of screaming

__________________________________________________

You turned and leaned against the door, breathing heavily as you felt the weight of the world crashing on you. You parted your lips and an ugly sob escaped you. You covered your ears in an attempt to block out all the noises but it did nothing to silence your thoughts.

Your heart ached so much it felt almost physical. You haveso many questions but all you could do was curl yourself into a tight ball.

Like a hammer striking a fragile mirror, reality shattered the memory into a thousand sharp fragments. All the lovely images of him smiling sweetly at you, holding you tight and making you feel safe shattered.

It was a painful reminder that he was not the one.

He was just a passerby in your life that left a scar that would take forever to heal.

You stayed in the same position for what felt like hours before you started packing your clothes.

With one last look, you left this place that you once called home.

The same day

Childe was lost in his thoughts, he was growing restless as each moment passed by, he couldn’t forget the look on your face when you left.

He felt sick and twisted for making you cry even when you were the one that betrayed him. He was supposed to feel happy, triumphant even, yet all he felt was emptiness and a sense of dread.

He doesn’t even know where that dread came from.

“ Lord Harbinger, a man that claims to be a friend of Ms y/n is requesting an audience.”

“Let him in.”

“Urm, Hello. I’m Matt.” A nervous-looking man entered, his eyes darted around as he licked his lips nervously.

“You dare..” Childe’s eyes narrowed coldly as he recognised the man, it was that bastard that you cheated with.

“I think we have a misunderstanding here!” Matt widened his eyes as he put his hands up in an attempt to calm the harbinger down. “I am Y/n’s childhood friend, I recently just came back from Sumeru to visit my family.“ The poor man was talking like a machine gun as if a bomb is about to set off.

That feeling of dread is coming back again, Childe stared at Matt, waiting for him to continue.

“Y/n is just like a little sister to me and I am really happy she found someone.” When he mentioned you, Matt’s eyes softened for a second. “I wanted to explain to you yesterday but you looked like you were ready to kill me..” he smiled sheepishly.

“What..what did you just say?”Childe’s mind was a whirlwind of panicked thoughts, his instincts screaming at him to find you and beg for forgiveness but he didn’t even know where to begin.

Everything made sense now.

The way you looked so hurt, confused and offended when he confronted you.

“What have I done?” Childe muttered, his face contorted into a horrified expression.

He messed up.

When he went back to their shared home, he was greeted with nothing but emptiness. The house was silent, not a trace of you was left behind. Your matching mugs, the plushies you insisted on keeping, and the photo frames of you and him were all gone.

A letter was left on the table.

__________________________________________________

Dear Ajax,

I went against my whole family and friends to be with you, and I really thought it would be you in the end but turns out, my mother was right. You were not and never would be that man.

I wished I’d never met you, you make me feel sick.

Hope we never meet again.

Y/N

____________________________________________________

As he read, Childe’s hands began to tremble as he clutched at his chest, trying to hold himself together, but the emotions were too overwhelming, raw.

His face was twisted in agony, tears streaming down his cheeks as he read and re-read the words on the page.

He can’t believe he fucked up so badly.

It felt like yesterday when you pressed yourself against his back, whispering how much you loved him. The way you kiss his ears, giggling as you watch his ears turn red under your touch.

Each time he came back from the battlefield tainted with blood and all worn out, all he wants is to see you, hear you call his name so sweetly.

Yet all of these are gone because of his foolishness.

Part 3?

742 notes · View notes

orderforbrian · 2 years

Text

silly one-off spiderman au me and leo talked about after watching all the sam raimi movies. entirely hilarious for jon to hate spiders while a web slinging superhero is cruising around London - honestly did it just to draw the spiderman kiss LMAO can you blame me

more details under the cut after the ID

[Start ID: Two images and two comics of a Spiderman Martin AU for the Magnus Archives. Martin is a mixed Polish/Korean man with short, wavy hair, wears glasses, and has a beauty mark under his lip. Jon is a Persian man with short, curly hair, wears glasses, and wears a business suit unless specified.

First image: A series of three drawings. The first drawing is of Spiderman Martin, he is posing with one arm above his head, presumably holding a web, and the other stretched out next to him, both his feet are crossed over each other. He is wearing a superhero suit that hides his identity, and none of his actual body is visible. The suit is has a web pattern except for where he has black elbow length gloves and calf length boots. His fingers are marked by sharp claws. There is a solid pattern around both sides of his waist that somewhat resembles a black widow hourglass. There is a simplified angular spider symbol stamped on his chest. His mask has large eyes with sharp edges as well as a set of eyes where his eyebrows would be, and two sets of eyes underneath his center ones. There are four black spider legs coming off of his back. In the top right corner, Martin is wearing a teddy lined jacket with a dress shirt underneath. He is holding a camera with the lanyard around his neck and has a beard. He appears flustered and is blushing. A simplified version of Jon that is just glasses with pupils says, "You look different...". Martin says, "I - I do?". Jon squints and asks, "Did you grow a beard overnight?". In the bottom right corner, Spiderman Martin has Jon cradled in one arm and is using his other arm to presumably swing a web. Jon is kicking his legs wildly and clutching onto Martin's head for dear life, his suit jacket and tie flying back from the movement. He is screaming and a couple tears are coming off his screwed shut eyes. He yells, "Oh good lord, put me down!!" in all caps. Martin says, "Hey, you're pulling my hair!" with the suit's eyes expressing a grimace.

Second image: A five panel comic. In the first panel, Spiderman Martin is dropping off Jon onto the top of a building, saying "Careful!". Jon takes a couple steps to balance himself. The next panel is a close up of Jon's face and he yells, "Wait!" In the next panel, Spiderman Martin looks back with a question mark next to his head. In between both panels is a web being shot out with the words "fwip" next to it. In the next panel, Jon's hand grabs at Martin's mask and Martin appears shocked and uncomfortable. In the final panel, Martin yells, "Woah! Hey!" and grabs Jon's hand. He uses one of the spider legs to fix his mask back onto his face and says, "Buy a guy dinner before trying to unmask him!" Jon looks up at him with wide eyes.

Third image: A five panel comic. In the first panel, Jon has slicked back hair and is looking angrily at a camera, saying, "You're trying to make it seem like I'm in love with Spiderman!". In the next panel, he is angrily pointing at the camera, a bit closer, and shouting, "Don't you dare put that in!!" with a flustered expression. In the next panel, Helen Richardson is reporting on the story at a news desk. She has shoulder length coiled hair in a side part and is wearing a newscaster suit with lipstick on and squiggle earrings. She says, "Jonathan Sims of the Magnus Tribune had only this to say-". In the next panel, Jon is in the same position he was in the first panel except he only says, "I'm in love with Spiderman!". In the final panel, Jon and Tim are watching a television in the corner of the panel. Tim is taller than Jon and has short hair locks, wears glasses and is wearing a sweater with a dress shirt underneath. Jon has his glasses tucked into his shirt collar and is dragging both hands down his eyelids, looking at the tv with a harrowed expression saying, "Tim, kill me...". Tim is looking at the tv with a grimace, responding with, "Yeesh, boss." In the left corner, a simplified drawing of Martin peeks over at them with a shock line, words next to him stating "Spidey sense tingling."

Fourth image: Spiderman Martin is upside down with half of his mask pulled up to just above his nose. Parts of his hair are sticking out by his neck. Jon has longer hair to his shoulders that appears to be wet. He is standing up and meeting his face to Martin's. He has both his eyes closed and is kissing Martin who is kissing him back. Both of Jon's hands are cradling the sides of Martin's head. The image is cast in a purple monochrome color.

End ID.]

the idea is that jon is a (nosy) investigative reporter for the Magnus Tribune who gets himself into way more trouble than he should because he's dedicated to the #truth. martin works as a photographer for the newspaper, sometimes collaborating with jon to nab evidence for a new article or scoop. at one such investigation, jon interviews a biotech company and martin ends up getting bitten by a mysterious spider - then boom, wakes up the next day and he doesn't need his glasses to see, he can climb walls, shoot webbing from his wrists, increased strength, reflexes, flexibility, the whole works. it's like he got five shots of testosterone right into the bloodstream. he starts solving small crimes as friendly neighborhood spiderman while keeping his secret identity, which props to him because he's the 'office clutz'. anyway shit starts going down with the biotech company (and possible connections to his boss Elias?? who wants to be immortal??), jon gets himself involved, and soon the guy who hates spiders is teaming up with spiderman to solve the mystery, all while harboring a crush on the cute photographer at work.

also just superhero martin is hot :)

#tma #the magnus archives #tma au #tma spiderman au #spiderman martin #jmart #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #order up! art tag

1K notes · View notes

wandagcre · 9 months

Note

Hello, I'm here to disturb your peace with this brief image while I work on my writing.

Edging G!P Sam!! To the point where she's so sensitive and begging~

UGHHHH sam would be so putty in your hands (or mouth 😋) she's on the brink of tears, hips bucked, and clutching for her dear life as you edge her! she's even cautious of putting her hands to grasp on your head because she fears that she might thrust her dick further and she'll inevitably cum sooner ;(

i headcanon her as someone who's kinda (very) impatient with sex, mostly with receiving, so edging is a real challenge for her.

but sam is also needy when it comes to receiving praises. she loves being appreciated, both verbal and nonverbal. because of that, she hates it when you instruct her not to cum yet and when she does, sam is devastated that her will wasn't strong enough and that she won't receive an abundance of compliments from you just yet.

and !! her veins !! on the neck, her arms, back of her hands... and her cock especially just throbbing with much need !! just physically trying to stop herself from cumming 😭

#gg.answers #headcanons #alkivm #intersex!sam

131 notes · View notes

eleanor-bradstreet · 11 months

Text

Take Me Instead (Anthony Bridgerton x Reader)

Anthony Bridgerton x gn!Reader Modern AU Rated/warnings: T - language, robbery, gun use, blood Word count: 3k

Summary: You and Anthony find yourselves in the middle of a bank robbery on an ill-fated day.

Author's Note: This is a belated birthday gift prompted by the fabulous and talented @broooookiecrisp and a game of prompt roulette that gave me: sad, Anthony, "take me instead". I hope you enjoy my dear 💙 Kudos also to @sorryallonsy who found the perfect header image!

This wasn’t supposed to happen. This was something you saw in movies, not something that happened in real life, and certainly not to you. When the doors to the bank were pulled shut by three men who then dropped to their knees and started opening their duffel bags, your immediate thought was that they must be maintenance workers of some kind. Then when the sound of a gunshot tore through the marble lobby you froze with panic, unable to react at all. But you didn’t need to because Anthony instantly wrapped himself around you and pulled you to the floor as other patrons started to scream.

“Stay down,” he urged, his voice the only steady thing within the chaos. Though he was curled over you, you could both look around to see what was happening. The men at the door had risen wearing ski masks and holding assault rifles. A fourth man, the source of the fired shot, held a pistol in the air at the teller window. There were ten or so people in the lobby, all of them instinctively cowering. All the staff of the bank seemed to have disappeared and you guessed were hidden in their own corners. Directly across from you a woman huddled under a counter clutching a boy who looked about nine years old. He was still but his eyes darted wildly.

At the shouted insistence from the four imposing men everyone fell into an ominous silence. You realized you were trembling with fear and adrenaline only when your husband squeezed you tighter. The warm weight of him against your back felt like the only thing keeping you from flailing with panic.

“It’s going to be alright,” he whispered into your hair, his voice tight. You gave some semblance of a nod. You needed to stay focused in the moment, to do what he told you, to think of a way out, to at least get descriptions of the criminals. But all your mind would do was berate you for ending up in this situation. What were the odds that you would be in this bank at this precise moment? You and Anthony had been downtown, due to meet his brother for lunch at the cafe across the street when you remembered you still had money in your bag from your recent trip abroad. You were just there for a quick exchange, likely the first time Anthony had ever set foot in a bank for a purpose other than closing a multimillion dollar transaction. But he had tagged along, playfully pawing at you while you waited in the queue. Then hell broke loose and now that chance errand may have rerouted the course of your lives. It lit a spark of anger within your fear.

“Where’s the manager?” barked the man at the window. Unlike his companions he wasn’t compelled to hide his face. Red-haired with a scarred and stubbled face and broad build, he seemed to be the leader.

Everyone stayed silent. No one moved.

He seethed as he surveyed everyone lying on the floor. Then in a few brisk steps he was hauling the little boy out of the woman’s arms as they both screamed. He brandished the gun to make her let go, then held the boy in front of him with the weapon angled to make his intentions clear. “Where’s the fucking manager?”

Before you could react, Anthony pulled away and started to rise to his feet, moving toward them. “Hey, hey! Let him go.”

“Shut the fuck up!” So focused on the scene in front of you, neither of you had noticed one of the other men moving up behind, but he suddenly appeared beside your husband, flipped his gun and cracked him in the jaw with the butt of it. You bit your tongue to keep from screaming as Anthony staggered and fell back to one knee. “Stay down!” The man struck him again on the shoulder so that Anthony pitched to the floor, lying perpendicular between you and the robbers, just out of your reach.

You watched him spit a patch of blood onto the marble then wipe the crimson from his split lip with a swipe of his thumb. Your brain was static, a roar of furious and terrified cries that you were just managing to keep at bay. He turned to you, his deep eyes reading yours and you knew he could tell. He gave the barest hint of a nod. Reassurance. Strength. Insistence. You needed to stay quiet. You treasured the fact that you were able to read each other’s thoughts through your eyes alone, but you could never imagine that facet of your love would prove so vital.

The leader chuckled then continued to wave his pistol threateningly toward the boy who had gone pale, looking desperately back at his mother. “I’m going to need someone to help us into the vault or else things are going to go poorly. Do you understand?”

Across from you the mother crouched, looking ready to pounce at a moment’s notice but emitting a stream of quiet whimpers. She never blinked as she watched her son.

Footsteps broke the horrible silence and all eyes turned to a small middle-aged woman who appeared in the doorway of a side office. She walked forward slowly, hands raised in the air and shaking, but she spoke clearly.

“I’m the manager. I’ll take you to the vault. What…what do you want?”

She halted feet away from the men and the leader lowered his gun but never let go of the child. “We want access to the deposit box for one Jack Featherington.”

Your blood ran cold. Featherington? You knew the family. Longtime neighbors and friends of the Bridgertons. But you didn’t know a Jack. The chances of multiple unrelated Featherington families seemed slim. Who was he and what could he have that they wanted?

“You can’t…you can’t open it without his key. That’s how it’s designed.” The manager explained, tremulous.

The leader smirked. “Oh, we are well aware of that. Jackie boy has been evading us and we need some leverage to rat him out.”

Just then the wail of sirens could be heard narrowing in around the building and you felt a fraction of relief. Someone had managed to ring a silent alarm, or make a call, or someone outside had heard the commotion. Help was just beyond the doors.

“Right on schedule.” The leader smiled, dragging the boy to walk with him as he moved to the center of the lobby, explaining his plans with all the fanfare of a carnival barker. “Alright ladies and gents, here’s the good news. We aren’t interested in hurting anyone.” You heard Anthony snicker as he licked his lip. “We’re going to let you go.” A low murmur of surprise rippled across the floor. “All you need to do is tell all the news cameras and the good officers of the law outside that we need their help finding the lying Lord Jack Featherington and his keyring. Understood?”

You were breathing fast, trying to process what he said. You would be let go. This was just a spectacle, a bargaining chip in some grander criminal scheme. You weren’t targets, you were useful collateral. Maybe you could even help the police by contacting the Featheringtons. It would be over soon.

The leader moved back to the manager. “Okay, you’re staying to let us in and…” He paused, thinking as he looked across the lobby once more. “Well, we need an insurance policy so I think you’ll stay too.” He wrapped an arm around the boy’s neck, grabbed the manager with his other hand and began to pull them both toward the back hall. For the first time the boy screamed, kicking his feet as he struggled against his captor. His mother wailed.

“Let the boy go!” Anthony roared, rising to his knees.

The second man snapped to face him. “What did I tell you?” You barely saw the slight tilt of his weapon, barely heard the high pitched pop, but then Anthony fell back clutching his side and your lungs knew before your brain did that he had been shot. You screamed and the sentiment was echoed by the other hostages. As you crawled to your husband’s side you were deaf to the fact that the leader was shouting furiously at his colleague. All you could see was the stunned look on Anthony’s face as he sat up and pressed a hand just above his left hip, bringing it away bloody.

Your heart beat double time, every sense heightened as you took his hand in yours and saw the light reflecting off the wet smear on his palm the same way it glinted off your wedding rings. You sat next to him, hands roving aimlessly, clueless as to what you should do. “Oh my god, Anthony… no…”

“It’s alright,” he said quietly. “It just grazed me, I’ll be alright.” He tried to flash you a winning smile but you saw the grimace underneath it. You weren’t a doctor but judging by how fast the dark stain was spreading across his shirt, you knew he was lying about being grazed.

Seeing him wounded somehow organized the panic in your brain. You were still frantic but you were going to make a plan. You were going to get him out alive. “We have to leave,” you whispered urgently. “They’ll let us go. We have to get you to a hospital. I won’t let you die…”

His brows darted up with concern and he leveled his eyes on you. “Hey, hey, look at me. I’m not going to die. We’re going to get out of this and it will be the maddest story we ever tell. You understand?”

You saw how the love still overcame the pain in his features and hot tears started to mount in your eyes. You would find a way out together. Of course you would. You nodded, chin trembling.

The felons seemed to resolve their spat and the leader turned back to address the room again. “Now that we’ve got that settled, you lot stay down. We’re headed to the vault and taking these two with us. They get released when we get Featherington’s keys. You tell them that, yeah?” Once again he started to drag the manager and the boy down the hall.

“Stop!” Anthony shouted, pressing a hand tight to his wound.

The man who had shot him rounded on him for the final time, growling. “You motherf…”

“Take me instead.”

His words hung in the air for a moment. So simple. Spoken so calmly. Everything within you sank. “Anthony, what?! No…” You whispered frantically, gripping his arm.

“Oh, fuck off.” the man scoffed, moving to tower over you both with the gleaming metal of his weapon hanging inches above your head.

Anthony looked up at him with steely resolve, undaunted. “Take me. I’m worth more than every other person in this building combined.” His eyes flicked to the side then he added quietly, “No offense.”

The thug snorted. “What are you, Duke of Sussex?”

“Viscount. And I run a company. A large company. Look.” Hissing in pain as he moved, he reached into his blazer and produced his card, handing it up with bloodied fingers.

At the back of the room the leader had paused, watching curiously. “What’s it say?”

“Anthony Bridgerton. CEO, Bridgerton House Enterprises.”

The way the leader’s eyebrows raised, you knew he recognized the family name and the pit of dread burrowed deeper into your stomach. “Fucking hell, looks like we bagged a silver tuna.” A smile broke out across his face to rival a cheshire cat.

Now Anthony was removing his watch, gasping as he struggled with even the smallest movements. He held it out to his attacker, further incentive to accept his offer. It was his Omega De Ville, an obscene six-figure wedding gift from his friend Simon. “Here, take this,” he rasped. “You could buy a bloody house with that. Take me and let everyone else go safely.”

“No!” You pleaded aloud, holding tight to his arm. You didn’t care anymore if you upset the man floating a rifle over you both. You’d rather be killed or dragged away with your husband than have him do this. Even though you knew he was right. Even though you knew he was doing this to save an innocent child, to save you, to save everyone. Your heart wouldn’t accept it.

“Yes.” Anthony affirmed, not even looking back at you. He still addressed the criminals. “I won’t struggle. I can’t struggle now that you’ve fucking shot me. And if you wanted national attention… Taking me will get you global. All the bargaining power you could ask for. Whatever you’re getting out of Featherington, you could double it with the ransom my company will pay.” He was using that tone, that suave confidence that wooed all his business partners and had wooed you. You of all people knew how irresistible it was. You loved and hated him equally in that moment.

The gunman stared, dumbstruck. He turned the watch over in his hand, seemingly impressed, then called over his shoulder. “Boss?”

It didn’t matter how many prayers raced silently through your heart, you already knew how this was going to play out.

“Grab him.”

You sprang forward, flinging your arms around him and finally allowing yourself to weep. “Anthony…no…” He had only been yours for a year. One year as your husband. One year of a life he filled with bliss. It was not enough. You couldn’t let it end now, and not in this way. You would offer yourself in his place except no one had the leverage he did and that was precisely why he was doing this.

He pulled back and brought a hand to your cheek. You could feel the warmth of his blood streaking your skin. “I will see you again, do you understand?” His voice was low and you could hear the slightest tremor in it, a fear he would expose only to you. “This is just temporary. The police know what to do and we’ll both be alright.”

“I can’t leave you,” you insisted, tears running down your face. But you knew you were overruled so you tried to memorize everything about him in that moment. The precise shade of his brown eyes, the callused tips of his fingers as they brushed your skin, the warmth of his breath, the flecks of grey in his beard. An enduring memory that would be replaced when you held him again.

“Stay with my family,” he choked. “I will see you again. I love you.”

“Alright, alright…” The robber rolled his eyes then clapped a hand on Anthony’s shoulder, gripping into his clothes and starting to drag him back toward the leader. He gasped and fumbled to stand as he was pulled along but always ended up falling back, clutching at his side. The red-headed man shoved the boy toward his mother who threw herself around him and sobbed. It was as if the ability to cry was predicated on having your loved one in your arms because as soon as Anthony left your grasp you went silent, keeping your eyes on him as steadfastly as his were on you. The leader seemed pleased with the trade off and ushered the quivering bank manager to walk in front of him down the hall, keeping his gun pointed at her back while his cohort dragged Anthony at the rear. A parade of fear headed toward an uncertain end.

They rounded a corner and were out of sight, leaving a trail of blood behind them. You were frozen, blank, your body refusing to leave even though your mind knew you should. But once again someone came to your aid. The mother, one arm locked around her son, wrapped the other around you and dragged you to your feet. You knew she was whispering gratitude and reassurances but you had fallen deaf. The remaining two men with guns herded your band of hostages out the front doors and quickly locked them behind you. You vaguely registered the crowd gathered around the building - a police barricade, ambulances, news vans, a sea of onlookers. After stumbling down the steps with the woman and her son you were swarmed by people in uniform. Someone draped a blanket over your shoulders while an EMT began wiping the blood from your hands and face.

“It’s not my blood,” you insisted, finding your voice again as your senses slowly returned. “They shot him. They shot my husband.” You grabbed the nearest police officer and turned them to face you. “Please, he’s in there now. You have to help him! At the very least ask if you can send in medical help. He’s bleeding and…”

Then you heard someone shouting your name. Frantically, repeatedly, growing closer. You spun to see a man struggling and held back by a pair of officers. Benedict. He had been waiting for you both across the street and had no doubt seen the chaos erupt. You ran to them, hastily explaining he was your brother-in-law. The officers relented and you rushed into his arms, the two of you clinging together so tightly it was hard to breathe. He felt like an anchor to your sanity, a reminder that not everything in the world had gone unrecognizably sideways. Anthony’s words echoed in your mind, “stay with my family”, and you knew it was the only way you would have the strength to face this trial - together.

You leaned against Benedict as officers and EMTs circled you, taking your story, bombarding you with questions and confirming the details over and over. They promised they would get Anthony back. They promised he would be alright. They promised they would work to end this soon. But their promises held little weight next to the one that would haunt your every moment until it was fulfilled. If Anthony had promised you would see each other again, you were going to hold him to his word. He had kept every promise he had ever made to you. All you could do was trust he would keep this one too.

No tags for prompt roulette, just for dedications and co-conspirators 😜

#bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton imagine #gn reader #modern au #whump and angst #angst

210 notes · View notes