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hsjazebel · 2 months

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Desperate part 1*

Word count: 2387

A/n: This is the first part of a series. It’s the first time I’ve written in a long time so I hope you like it! Also I would like to thank @gurugirl for her help which was very important to me!💘

Content Warning: this is a dbf story so if you don’t like these kind of things please just don’t read it! 18+, age gap (15 years), female masturbation - that’s all for this part.

part 2*

You never had so-called daddy issues as you always had a good relationship with your father, but there was something about that man with green eyes that made you feel desperate.

Your father had a large group of friends and they often organized parties and lunches or dinners together, but you never liked these things because there was no one of your age since everyone had younger children and the same age as your sister (so she often abandoned you to be with her friends) and because of this, you found everything very boring.

That is until a new figure appeared in the middle of a barbecue in your backyard: a handsome, curly-haired man with green eyes that seemed to peer into your soul.

You were sure you had never seen this man before because if you had you would definitely remember him given how amazingly handsome he was.

You were peacefully sunbathing on a lounger by the pool while continuing to watch videos on TikTok until your father arrived to interrupt your peace. “Y/n, I wanted to introduce you to someone! Harry. He arrived yesterday from London and as soon as I told him I was having a barbecue at home he wasted no time and arrived. Harry, this is my daughter Y/n!”

As soon as you lay eyes on Harry, your jaw nearly drops. You stand up and offer your hand to the man. “Nice to meet you, Harry.

“The pleasure is all mine. I’m surprised James has a daughter your age.”

You laugh at his joke; it was true many of your parents' friends were surprised when you said you were 23, given that both your parents were not yet 50.

Your hand is still in contact with Harry's and you honestly don't want to take it away, his hand was so big compared to yours and it was so soft and smooth. And then his beautiful voice with his English accent… oh god! You had always had a weakness for the English accent and hearing it on Harry you could say that you would imagine entering heaven like this.

“Let's say that Alice and I didn't wait long to get married and start a family, and she's not that big, she's still my little princess.” Your father's voice brings you back to reality and you feel Harry's hand slip away from yours. “Darling, Harry and I are going back to the others, I'll call you when lunch is ready!” And with that, he kisses you on the head and leaves with Harry not before the man with green eyes says goodbye to you.

After eating you decide to go back into the house to lie down for a while; staying in the sun all day had made you tired and in any case after lunch you always had the habit of taking a nap and the fact that your parents are having a party outside in your garden certainly won't stop you.

You get into the shower to get rid of the chlorine from the pool and also to cool off from all the heat today and finally get into your bed.

There's just one problem: after spending twenty long minutes tossing and turning in bed, you can't sleep, so you decide to do what you always do when you can't sleep: use your fingers to pleasure yourself. You slide your shorts down along with your panties and open your legs. You go straight to your clit because you know it's the fastest way to bring you to release and you start twisting your fingers quickly bringing dirty thoughts to your mind. But the only thing that appears in your head is the penetrating gaze of the English man you met not many hours ago and who is in your garden right now. You start to think about how good his hands would feel on you and how deep his voice would be as he whispers dirty things in your ear. Or how good his tongue would feel on your pussy and how quickly it would bring you to orgasm – because you could swear that man would know how to make a woman feel good. And so within a few minutes, you feel that feeling in your lower belly and you reach your orgasm with Harry in your mind.

You immediately feel tired all over your body and fall asleep soon after.

You didn't think you were that tired, but you were wrong because you woke up and the first thing you see when you open your eyes is your dog, Chery, lying on your legs - which you didn't even know how he got into your room seeing as the door was closed - and the alarm clock on your bedside table read 5:32 pm. You get out of bed and go to wash your face to try to remove some traces of sleep. Soon after you dress in a white top and a pair of shorts, pick up your dog, and go down to the living room.

As soon as you enter you notice from the glass doors overlooking the garden that all the guests have now left, but the thing that immediately catches your eye is Harry sitting on the sofa with your dad watching a football match. “Good morning sleeping beauty!” Your dad greets you.

“Mmh good morning,” you greet, putting your dog down and she jumps directly onto the sofa, placing himself next to Harry.

“There will be 5 of us this evening, Harry is also staying for dinner.”

“Yes, your father and I have a lot of time to catch up on,” Harry tells you with his beautiful smile that makes those pretty dimples of his appear that you want to touch with your index; and then those hands with which he is caressing Chery with… oh lord! Those same hands you fantasized about a few hours ago, with his long fingers and - ok maybe you shouldn't have thought so much about your father's friend like that but it wasn't your fault if he looked like a Greek god.

It's your father's voice that brings you back to reality, “I was thinking you could make your own special pasta, that dish is really delicious!”

“Oh, yes of course!”

Harry looks at you smiling and says, “I love pasta! I can't wait to taste it."

The dinner goes very well, you hear some anecdotes about your father's life as a teenager and you also discover that he was the most wanted boy at university! “I swear I remember being in the cafeteria one day and I heard this group of girls talking about how sexy James was and I was like what?? Are we talking about the same person?” Harry laughs.

And your father being the touchy man he is replies, “You're just jealous because they were talking about me and not you! If maybe at 21 you hadn't had long hair you would have seen that girls would have talked about you too!"

“Hey don't talk like that about my long hair,” Harry says putting a hand on his heart pretending to be hurt by your father's words.

And the evening continues like this, with constant banter between Harry and your father even when dinner is over and they decide to go out on the patio to drink a glass of whiskey while your mother goes to bed and you and your sister retire to your room.

"So Harry isn't that bad right?" Your sister starts. “If he wasn't Dad's friend I would also tell you to flirt with him.” Your eyelids widen at this statement and she continues, “Oh come on don't make that face, I know you think he’s sexy as hell.”

Well, actually your sister wasn't entirely wrong. “I can't deny he's handsome but I would never hit on him! He's dad's friend, like you said, and he'll be twice my age!"

“Yeah y/n as you say, but I know he has already enchanted you with his green eyes and his English accent! Goodnight and try not to dream about it,” she winks at you and walks out of your room leaving you alone.

You quickly realized that sleeping so much in the afternoon wasn't a great idea because you obviously weren't sleepy now and so you turned on the television to watch a few episodes of Friends while putting on a face mask.

After 5 episodes the tiredness was finally making itself felt so you decide to go to sleep, but you realize that the bottle of water on your bedside table is empty, and since you already know that you will wake up at night to drink, you take the bottle and go down to the kitchen to fill it up and finally, you can go to sleep afterward.

But what you don't expect when you get to the kitchen is to see Harry sitting on the couch reading a book. You remain frozen in your place for a moment, partly out of fear because certainly at this time of night, you weren't expecting anyone up, and also because you weren't expecting to see him.

He gives you a sweet smile as soon as he sees you, “Oh hi y/n! Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

“No, don't worry, I just didn't expect to see you here." You say as you walk behind the kitchen island to fill the bottle.

“Oh yes since while your father and I were talking it got late he offered me to stay here for the night and I accepted,” he follows you with his gaze as he closes the book and places it on the table placed in front of the sofa. “Sorry again for scaring you, I didn't think I'd find anyone awake at this hour. By the way, why are you awake?”

You finish filling the bottle by taking a sip and then reply, “I realized my bottle was empty so I came down to fill it. And I could ask the same question to you, why aren't you sleeping?”

"I wasn't sleepy either and I remembered that when I entered the house I had seen a bookshelf and I decided to stay here and read a bit, trying to get myself to sleep."

You approach the sofa where he is sitting, "What book did you choose?”

He takes it from the table and shows you the cover, "Dostoevsky's White Nights, I love this book."

Your eyes widen in surprise, "Oh my god it's my favorite book too! In fact, for the record, that book is mine.”

“So sorry for borrowing it without telling you,” he laughs. “So you like Russian literature?”

“We can say that I love literature in general, especially the classics. In Russian literature I especially love Dostoevsky and Tolstoy," you reply, sitting on the sofa, even if a little far from where Harry is.

“I've never read anything by Tolstoy, maybe I could ask you for some advice.”

“I would be more than happy to help you!”

So you start talking about this and that. You discover that he has a degree in economics and management and has his own company in London. He met your father at the university where they were both doing a master's degree.

“And what can you tell me about yourself? Do you study or work?" At this point, you both had moved a little closer to each other.

“I actually do both. I have been studying fashion marketing in Milan for two years and in the meantime, I work for an Italian fashion magazine!” You've always liked talking about what you study because it's been a great passion of yours since you were little and you still can't believe that you're doing your dream job.

“So you live in Milan? I have been there many times and I love that city as I love all of Italy.”

“Yes, I live in Milan but I always come back here in the summer to be with my family. And I love Italy too, everyone is so hospitable and nice!”

"You can say it for sure! And why did you decide to study in Italy from California? If I may ask,” he asks curiously.

“In reality, I have always liked the world of fashion and when I finished school I was sure of what I wanted to do. Then talking to Mum and Dad I tried to convince them to let me study abroad but Dad didn't seem very convinced, then in the end Mum convinced him and I started looking for a good course of study. I wasn't sure from the beginning about going to Milan but then thinking about it, that is the cradle of fashion and so I made my decision!”

“Wow, I'm really impressed y/n! And can you also speak Italian?”

“Well, I had to learn it to live by it even though my pronunciation isn't that perfect.”

“I also learned Italian during my business trips. It's a frequent destination and I've made a few friends who have taught me something!”

You end up talking about your experiences in Italy until you notice from the windows that the sky is starting to lighten, a sign that the sun will come out soon. Harry notices too and lets out a small laugh when you let out a yawn, covering your mouth with your hand, “Sorry, I think sleep is kicking in now,” you laugh too.

"Yes, you are right. I didn't realize how much time had passed. Maybe now it's time to go to sleep even if soon I think someone in your family will get up."

You nod in agreement with him, "Yes, you are right. I think it's time for bed!” You stand up and he does the same.

“Goodnight or rather buonanotte!” He tells you with the most beautiful smile you've ever seen.

“Buonanotte!” you reply and so you turn and walk towards the stairs to go back to your room, bringing to mind the words your sister had said to you hours before, “Try not to dream about him”. Maybe it will be a little difficult because when you finally get into your bed and close your eyes you see beautiful dimples and green eyes.

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles x you #harry styles blog #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic

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once-upon-an-imagine · 3 months

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Man On a Wire

A/N: somehow this worked again I really hope you loves like this!

Request - Anonymous asked: For a dialogue, how about Remus thinking you like Sirius so when you ask him to a library date he thinks it's a prank or to make Sirius jealous and he says no. Remus then finds out you were talking with Sirius about him and apologizes.

Warnings: insecurities on Remus' part, making him be a biiit of an asshole, but I think that's it! let me know if I missed anything, also is like 2am here and this is not proofread

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter :) gif isn’t mine :D

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Man On a Wire

I feel like I'm walkin' on a tight rope My heart is in my throat, I'm counting on high hopes to get me over you

You kept walking back and forth in front of the Quidditch Pitch.

“You need to calm down, love. It’s only a question” Alice tried to reassure you.

“B-but what if he says no?” you asked, feeling anxious.

“He’s not gonna say no” she insisted.

“You don’t know that. There might be a million reasons why he would say no” you said, making your best friend glare at you. “O-okay maybe not a million but… a f-few” you shrugged.

“Hey, ladies” you heard Sirius approaching and landing next to the two of you. “What are you still doing here? We’re gonna be done in a few minutes” he said looking at you.

“She’s second-guessing herself” Alice told him.

“C’mon, love. We’ve been through this. I’ve told you a million times. I know first-hand, Remus is basically in love with you-” Sirius said, rolling his eyes.

“L-love? You never said anything about love, Black!”

“I didn’t think I needed to. He looks at you worse than Prongs looks at Lily or Frank looks at this one” he said, pointing at Alice.

“Hey, don’t drag Frank into this” Alice glared at him.

“My point is, it’s time you both just stop being stupid and get together” he simply said.

“But what if he says no?”

“Why would he say no?”

“I don’t know!”

“He’s not gonna say no, okay? So, just, go up there and we’ll be out here waiting for you two idiots to come out holding hands and we can go to dinner” Sirius said before he started pushing you towards the bleachers, where Remus was sitting.

“Okay, okay, I’m going!” you said, looking at your best friends one last time and taking a deep breath.

You started climbing up the empty stairs and walked over to one of the highest bleachers where you knew Remus always read while he waited for his friends to be done with practice. Not that you knew his every move you just… noticed. You felt your heart beating faster when you spotted him. He was so enthrallingly handsome, it was ridiculous. You always heard girls talking about how stunning Sirius was and, you didn’t disagree, Sirius was very attractive. But Remus’ beauty was completely different. It was hypnotizing. Which is why you were extremely worried about asking him out.

You gripped your books to your chest a bit tighter and made your way over to his spot. He was so concentrated on his book that his tongue was sticking out a little and he was resting his head on his right hand as he read. You cleared your throat a little, getting his attention and making him look up at you.

“Um… h-hello, Remus” you smiled, nervously.

“Hi” he smiled back at you.

“I am sorry to um b-bother you” you started. “Uh, is it okay if I join you?”

“Oh, yeah, sure” he said, getting up and scootching a little to make room for you. How were you not supposed to fall in love with this man?

“Um, th-thank you” you said, placing your bag on the floor and taking your books out. “So, um… what are you reading?”

“Oh” he said, marking the page on his book. “Um, I’m reading A Murder is Announced” he said, showing it to you. “Have you read it?”

“Oh, yes, I read this last year. It’s a really good book. Are you enjoying it?”

“I am” he nodded. “So, what brings you to the Quidditch Pitch today?” he asked, all of the sudden.

“Oh, w-well, there’s a match on Friday” you said. “... right?”

“Right” he smiled. “Are you planning on coming to the match?”

“W-well, I don’t know. I’m not much of a Quidditch fan, as you know” you said, feeling your cheeks burn. “S-so, I thought maybe if I watch them practice I might understand it a little bit better?” you said, nervously.

“Why the sudden interest?” he asked, curiously.

“Um, I don’t know” you said, nervously running a hand through your hair. “It’s our last year, so… I promised myself to try new things” you smiled wearily. “So, um… do you think you can explain some of it for me?”

“Um… sure” he said, putting his book down. “I mean, I’m not the best myself but I did read Quidditch Through the Ages” he said, making you laugh a little. “So, Prongs is the captain” he said, pointing at his friend. “He, Sirius, and Kurt are Chasers. So, they have to get the Quaffle through the hoops” he instructed.

“Okay, that doesn’t seem that complicated” you said.

“Right, but it’s the Beater’s job to throw the Bludgers at them and prevent them to do so” he told you. “Fabian and Gideon are really good. But, we’re playing Ravenclaw on Friday and their Beaters are quite ruthless” he explained.

“So, I take it you’re coming to the match on Friday?”

“I am” he nodded. “I never miss a Gryffindor match” he smiled.

“Oh, Merlin! Look at him! He looks even better with his hair like that” you heard a group of girls a few steps down and to your right. They were ogling and sighing over Sirius, who wasn’t as far, brushing his sweaty hair with his hand.

“Ugh, I know! He’s stupidly handsome” another one giggled.

“So… Sirius has his own cheerleading section?” you chuckled.

“Yeah, he kind of does” Remus told you as Sirius made his way over to the group of girls in his broom.

“Hello, ladies” he said, flashing his signature handsome smirk at them, making them giggle and they all started complimenting him.

When he spotted you, he quickly sent a wink your way. You failed to see Remus rolling his eyes as he started putting his stuff in his bag, which is why he failed to see Sirius widening his eyes at you before pointing at Remus hinting that you needed to ask him. You sighed, rolling your eyes, and took a deep breath one more time.

“Um, R-Remus?”

“Yes?” he asked, looking back at you.

“Um, w-well, I was um…” you stuttered nervously. “C-could I ask you something?”

“Sure” he said, turning to look at you.

He noticed you were nervously playing with your hands before you looked at Sirius one last time and then you finally faced him. He prepared himself to hear you ramble on about how much in love with Sirius you were and if he could help you fix a date with him or something.

“W-well, I was w-wondering if, uh-” you said, again. “If you’re not busy on F-Friday, um… m-maybe you’d like to um…” you stammered. “G-go with me to the Library to study, b-before the match?” you managed to finally spit out. You felt your heartbeat increase as you waited for your answer.

“What?” Remus frowned.

“O-or if you’re busy we can c-come to the match?” you tried, smiling nervously. “O-or I b-believe it’s a Hogsmeade weekend-”

“What’s your angle?” he asked you all of the sudden, taking you by surprise.

“Um… a-angle?”

“Honestly, if you want to go out with Sirius, just ask him” he said, standing up and grabbing his bag.

“Sirius? W-what are you talking about-?”

“You know, a lot of girls have asked me what’s the best way to ask him out but none of them have sunk so low to the point of pretending that you would like to spend with me to get closer to him-”

“That’s not what I was-” you tried to explain, getting up yourself.

“What is it then? Are you trying to make him jealous or something?”

“What? No! Remus, I don’t-”

“You know what? No, thank you. I honestly have better things to do than to spend a day with you talking about Sirius” he said before walking away, leaving you standing there, mouth opened, dumbfounded. You didn’t even hear the last things he said. The only words ringing in your ears were ‘No, thank you. I honestly have better things to do than to spend a day with you.’

Your eyes kept looking at him as he climbed down the stairs and you saw the group of girls that were looking at Sirius. They all looked at you with sorrow in their eyes. They felt sorry for you. You had just been rejected in front of them. You felt your eyes starting to water as you saw Alice running towards you.

“Hey, what happened? I just saw Remus leaving-”

“He said no” you silently said as a few tears ran down your cheeks.

“What? Why?”

“He said he- um” you tried to explain to your friend as she sat you down. “He thought I was asking him out b-because I wanted to get closer to Sirius” you said.

“What? That’s ridiculous! Why would he think that?”

“I don’t know” you said. “I tried to tell him that wasn’t the case b-but he didn’t let me explain and he left” you finished, crying a little harder.

“Hey” Sirius said, flying over to the two of you. “What happened? Why are you crying?”

“Remus said no” Alice informed him as she hugged you.

“What? Why?”

“He thought she was only asking him because she wanted to ask you out” Alice explained.

“He said that?” Sirius asked you and you slowly nodded. “I’m gonna bloody kill him” he muttered under his breath. “Look, love, I’ll talk to him, okay?”

“N-no, it’s okay” you said, trying to stop more tears from falling. “I d-don’t think Remus likes me that way anyways” you said, sadly.

“Don’t say that, love” Alice insisted. “Let’s just go to dinner and we can talk things through” she suggested.

“I’m not hungry” you said, pulling away and grabbing your things. “You guys should go” you smiled sadly at them. “I think I’m just gonna go to my dorm” you told them, eying the group of girls who were now leaving.

“No, we can talk to Remus-”

“Go and rest, okay? I’ll bring you something” Alice interrupted Sirius.

“Thanks guys” you smiled weakly at them. “I’ll see you tomorrow” you said before making your way out.

“Bye, love” Sirius said before turning to Alice. “I’m going to kill Remus” he repeated.

“If you don’t, I will” she replied.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“What the bloody hell is your problem?” Sirius asked when he burst into his dorm.

Remus was reading a book, James was coming out of the shower, and Peter was just sitting there waiting for everyone to get ready so they could go to dinner.

“Which one of us are you talking to, Pads?” James asked, confused.

“Why don’t you ask your stupid friend Moony” Sirius said, glaring at him.

“What are you talking about?” Remus frowned confused.

“Oh, you’re going to play dumb? So we’re just going to pretend that nothing happened back in the Quidditch Pitch and you didn’t make anyone cry?”

“What?” James and Peter asked at the same time.

“Again, what are you talking about? Nobody cried” Remus said, closing his book and getting up.

“Really? Are you sure about that, Moony? Are you really sure?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Padfoot. You have no idea what happened!”

“Oh, really? So, you didn’t reject her when she asked you out?”

“What? Who asked you out?” James asked, interested.

“Nobody-”

“Nobody? Really? The girl that you have practically been in love with for years is now nobody?”

“What? She asked you out?” Peter asked.

“You said no?” James asked, extremely confused.

“She didn’t ask me out, okay? She was only asking to spend time with me to get closer to you!”

“What?” James and Peter asked again. “That doesn’t make any sense!” James said.

“Yeah, what are you talking about, mate?” Peter asked.

“Why the fuck would she want to get closer to me? We’re friends!”

“Because she’s in love with you, just like every other girl in this stupid school is, apparently!” Remus snapped.

“You see? You see how stupid your friend is?” Sirius told James.

“Stop talking to me as if I’m not here! And stop calling me stupid!”

“Mate, you are stupid! You truly are if you think she was only asking you out to get closer to Sirius!” James told him.

“Shut up! I saw the way that she was looking at him! You winked at her, and all of the sudden she’s interested in Quidditch and she wants to go to the match on Friday, and I’m supposed to believe she doesn’t fancy you?”

“Mate, I highly doubt she’s interested in Quidditch” Peter laughed.

“Yeah, she’s as interested in Quidditch as she is in Padfoot” James added.

“Moons, I winked at her because I knew she was nervous about asking you out. See, it was actually the other way around. She came to me and asked me how she could ask you out” he explained.

“W-what?” Remus asked, feeling terrible.

“Do you honestly not know how much in love with you she is?” Peter asked, confused.

“Yeah, she’s always looking at you, mate” James told him.

“She’s n-not” he insisted, trying to convince himself that he hadn’t just turned you down and that you were not in love with him. “She likes Padfoot. She’s always with him-!”

“Yeah, talking about you, you idiot!” Sirius told him. “She’s always asking what your favorite books are, what movies do you like, and what would be the best way to ask you out! And when she finally got the courage to do it, you said no” he explained.

“Holy shit” Remus muttered to himself, plopping on his bed again. “I am so stupid” he stated.

“Yes, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, mate” Sirius said, sitting next to him. “So, what are you going to do?”

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Throughout the next few days, Remus tried endlessly to find you so he could apologize but it was useless. You were avoiding him like the plague. Even when he tried using the Map, it was as if you were one step ahead of him. He looked for you in the Library, where he thought you’d be even if he said no, but you were nowhere to be found. He hoped you would make it to the match on Friday, but again, you were a no-show.

It wasn’t until Saturday when he begged Alice to drag you to Hogsmeade so he could just ‘casually’ run into you. It took him and Sirius to convince her since she was still mad at Remus for rejecting you, but she caved.

So, here you were, on your way to Hogsmeade as a third wheel on Alice and Frank’s date, although they insisted it wasn’t a date, so Marlene and Dorcas were here too. So, all in all, you were fifth-wheeling.

“Come on, love. It’s gonna be fun!” Marlene said, linking her arm with yours. “We can do whatever you’d like!”

“Yeah, we can go to the Three Broomsticks, or Tomes and Scrolls, or the music shop” Dorcas suggested.

“To be honest with you, girls, I kind of just want to go to Honeydukes to get as much candy as I can carry and then go back” you said with a sad sigh.

“What? No, love, it’s a beautiful day!” Marlene insisted.

“Look, we have some errands to run, why don’t you go to Honeydukes to get some candy, and then we can meet at the Three Broomsticks?” Alice suggested as you entered the village.

“Um… can’t I just by my candy and go-”

“No!” Dorcas and Marlene said in unison. “We’re gonna head to the Three Broomsticks to get a booth, so you better come there after buying your candy” Dorcas added.

“Ugh, fine!” you said, frustrated.

In all honesty, all you wanted to do was buy an endless amount of candy and go back to your dorm. Ever since Remus rejected you, you felt people watching you everywhere you went. You could hear them talking about you and you were certain that the girls that witnessed the entire thing had already spread around your very much public rejection. Which is why you had been avoiding going out of your dorm as much as you could.

You turned around to make your way to Honeydukes, completely missing that your friends joined James, Peter, Lily, Remus, and Sirius at the Three Broomsticks.

“You’re up, Lupin” Alice said, still glaring at him as the rest made their way inside the pub.

Remus took a deep breath before he followed you into the sweetshop. He spotted you on one of the furthest shelves, holding, or trying to, as many sweets as you could in your hands. He felt a sweet smile forming on his face as he watched you. A small part of him still thought that Sirius was wrong. That there was no way that you could ever be interested in someone like him.

But his heart fluttered more intensely with each step he took towards you, and he knew that whether Sirius was right or wrong, he still needed to apologize to you for the way he spoke. When one of the many chocolate frogs you had fell on the floor, he quickly made his way over to you and picked it up.

“Um, here, I think you dropped this” he said, making you turn around to face him. His heart ached a little when the smile dropped off your face when you saw it was him.

“Oh… um” you said, grabbing the treat from his hand. “Thanks” you smiled nervously.

“How have you been?” he asked, cursing himself silently. “I uh… didn’t see you at the match yesterday” he added.

“Right… I wasn’t really in the mood to go” you smiled firmly.

“Oh” Remus said, feeling even worse. “W-well, you missed a good match” he chuckled. “Gryffindor won” he said.

“I heard” you replied noticing a few people looking your way. “Um, I should uh- probably get going” you said, as you were going to start making your way out, but you felt Remus gently grab your arm and turn you around.

“Wait!” he said, getting even more attention from the students around you. “Um, I…” he felt his heart beating a little faster. He didn’t like dragging this much attention to himself and he wanted to ask you to go somewhere a bit more private. But, firstly, he didn’t think you’d like to go anywhere with him until you apologized and secondly, he very much publicly rejected you, so maybe he had to do the same thing. “I wanted to apologize to you” he blurted out.

“Oh, R-Remus, you don’t have to-”

“Yes, I do” he said, getting closer to you and pulling you a little away. “I’m really sorry about the way that I spoke to you” he said. “I’m sorry for assuming that you were just talking to me to get closer to Sirius-”

“Why did you think that?” you asked all of the sudden.

“E-excuse me?”

“Why would you think that the only reason I would talk to you or wanted to spend time with you would be to get closer to someone else?” you asked. “I mean, I thought- I thought we were friends… Is that… um… is that what you think of me?” you asked, sadly.

“What? No!” he assured you. “I don’t- we are friends” he insisted. “I just…” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, here it goes” he said, taking a deep breath. “I like you, love” he started. “I really like you. I’ve liked you so much for so long, I’m pretty sure that I’m very much in love with you” he confessed. “But, I never in a million years thought that y-you could like me like that” he said. “I thought that you were only interested in Quidditch because you wanted to see Sirius and I saw him wink at you, so my reasoning was that you liked him because, for some reason every girl in school does, and that would be the logical thing-”

“The logical thing would be for me to like Sirius?”

“Well, yes” he said as if it was obvious.

“Why?”

“Why would you have any interest in spending time with me then?”

“Because I like you, you big idiot!” you blurted out, frustrated.

“Y-you do?”

“Yes! I figured Sirius might have told you by now, or you might have heard it from the entire school who apparently knows and you’re the only one who’s still oblivious to it!”

“Well, to be honest, Sirius did say something but, I still wasn’t entirely sure that it was true-”

“Why, Remus? Why do you think it’s so impossible for me to be in love with you?”

“L-love? Did you just say love?” he asked, smiling.

“I uh-” you said, realizing you just let it slip. “Well, you said it first!”

“Well, yes, because it makes sense for me to be in love with you, but it doesn’t make sense for you to be in love with me!”

“What? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard! Why?”

“Why? Oh, I don’t know, maybe we should discuss this on the next lunar phase” he said, muttering the last words.

“Oh, Merlin! Really? Is that what this is about?”

“For starters!” he argued. “Trust me, it would make a lot more sense if you liked Sirius! He’s handsome and always laughing, he’s funny and witty-”

“Remus, are you trying to tell me that I should be in love with Sirius? Or that you are in love with Sirius?” you smirked a little.

“That’s not what I meant!” he glared at you. “Look, I just… I never thought that someone like you would ever want to be with… someone like me” he muttered the last part.

“Wow, you really are an idiot, aren’t you?” you chuckled as Remus rolled his eyes.

“Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“Who called you an idiot?”

“Sirius!” he complained.

“Aw” you smiled. “Well, we can be two idiots in love, or you can just reject me again. It’s your move, Lupin” you told him.

Remus bit his bottom lip, trying to prevent his smirk from getting bigger. He walked closer to you and gently pulled you closer to him by your waist before he leaned down to press his lips against yours. You suddenly dropped all the candy you had in your hands and you quickly wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

“I choose two idiots in love” he smiled before kissing you once more.

“Good answer, Lupin” you smiled.

“Oh, I also wanted to ask” he said, grabbing your sweets and placing them in a basket. “If you’re not too busy if you… wanted to go on a date with me?”

“Well, I told Dorcas and Marlene I would go to the Three Broomsticks-”

“Yes, they are all waiting for us to get there” he informed you.

“Oh, okay, so that’s a no on the Three Broomsticks then” you said, as you walked over to pay for your things.

“I think that’s for the best” he smiled.

“Well then, it looks like my day is free” you said, as Remus held your hand when you walked out of Honeydukes.

He pulled you back a little and kissed you once more. “I really am sorry, love” he smiled.

“I know you are, Rem” you smiled back at him.

“So, does this mean you’ll keep me company on Quidditch matches?”

“If you’re there, I guess I can be there” you smiled as he kissed you again, neither of you noticing your group of friends looking at the two of you from the window at the pub across the street.

“Fucking finally” Sirius muttered, bumping Alice’s fist.

The End

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

A/N: hope you loves like it! Charlie's coming up next!

#marauders #marauders imagine #remus lupn #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin oneshot

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sapphire-writes · 5 months

Text

Money Shot

Part 4 of The Campaign

modern!Aemond x Reader

summary: Tensions rise between you and Aemond at the arrival of Floris Baratheon.

word count: 6.3k

rating: explicit/18+/MDNI

warnings: kissing, fingering, oral (f receiving), degradation, slight praise, semi-public, finger sucking, gagging, hair pulling, begging, infidelity, reader serving cunt (listen, our reader is not a girl's girl and you know what we're just rolling with it for this one rip), angst, alcohol consumption, smoking, language

note: oh hey there! it's my monthly series update whatcha know! how's everyone doing? surviving? thriving? slay! thanks for reading lovelies I hope you enjoy it!

dividers & headers by me (i know, we've come so far)

if you'd like to be notified when I post please follow and turn on notifications for @sapphire-writes-updates in lieu of a taglist!

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Floris Baratheon is annoyingly pretty.

Even more so now that she’s this close; seated across from you at brunch. Floris and her sisters went to school with you when you were younger; you’d been in the same grade as her older sister Maris. You were never close. When it became clear her family was supporting Aegon over Rhaenyra, you made it your mission to find out everything worth knowing about them.

Floris motherfucking Baratheon.

She bats her lashes at Aemond as he holds his brother’s attention in polite quiet conversation. Easily the prettiest of her sisters so it is wasn’t surprising that Aemond had chosen her as his prize. Though to be frank, you’d never thought of Aemond as shallow. He hardly dated at all.

Aegon had arrived late the previous night, setting off the alarms of Summerhall as he fell into the swimming pool. A fabulous start to the day.

Floris had arrived the evening after you and Aemond’s most recent rendezvous. She’d squealed like an excited teenager, throwing her arms around Aemond, her heels lifting off of the ground as she peppered light kisses across his face. Her presence had been a thorn in your side ever since.

A family outing had been Alicent’s idea. The restaurant was Rhaenyra’s choosing; an intimate little rooftop brunch spot. You’d all gotten there early to avoid the sweltering midday sun.

You glance over your shoulder at the table behind you where Rhaenyra is seated, flanked by Daemon and Joffrey. Alicent and her father sit across from them, both tight lipped. Daemon is lost in his menu, the corner of his mouth curling into a sneer as he murmurs something to Rhaenyra. The table appears quiet, with no polite conversation. Though Joffrey is seated beside his mother, it feels very much as though you’d been seated at the kid’s table.

“Weren’t you supposed to bring someone?” Helaena asks, glancing at Aegon out of the corner of her eye as she pours over the menu. “I thought you were seeing that Lannister girl.”

You turn away from the grown-ups' table, reaching for your wine. You declined the complimentary mimosas, as did Aegon. He swirls his glass of scotch in his hand, the ice cube clinking against the sides. Nothing like hard liquor at 11 am.

“She’s not coming,” Aegon answers.

“Not coming?”

Aegon merely shrugs, tapping his finger against the glass, “We had a fight.”

Helaena quirks a brow at that, pursing her lips as she sets her menu on the table.

“A fight?”

“Yes. A disagreement.”

“About what?”

Aegon groans, leaning back in his chair as a waitress walks by. His eyes rake over her figure so quickly you almost miss it. Aegon’s been perving for years and he’s mastered his technique. Your stomach sours and you roll your eyes. Jace reaches over to you, placing his hand on top of yours giving it a comforting squeeze.

“Loyalties. I kissed someone else and she wasn’t happy.” Aegon tells his sister. His playful frown suggests he’s unbothered by her reaction to his infidelity.

Of all the Targaryens, you think you hate Aegon the most.You glance at Aemond and find him already looking at you.

Well, maybe not the most.

“How dreadful. You’ll cause a scandal, I’m sure,” Helaena muses.

“No one’s paying much attention to me. Nothing to worry about,” Aegon says, plucking a piece of bread from the basket in front of him, “Everyone’s more concerned about Maegor With Tits.” He holds the bread against his chest for crude emphasis.

“Hush,” Helaena snaps, always the quickest of her siblings to defend her half-sister.

Helaena and Aegon quarrel like lovers. It’s unsettling.

Aemond is still watching you, even though you’ve looked away. You’re trying to control the small smirk that plays on your lips. You know why he’s staring.

It wasn’t as though you were trying to get him to look at you, but you had opted for a more revealing dress than you usually would for a family outing. Jace’s eyes had widened considerably as you’d smoothed the small scrap of silk into place that morning.

“You look incredible,” he’d said, hand on your hip, eyes following the fabric that stopped just below the curve of your ass, leaving no amount of leg to the imagination.

You glance at Aemond, meeting his hungry gaze. He’s awfully fun to play with. It’s been so boring the past few days ever since Floris’ arrival. She’d been stuck to Aemond’s side like a pretty little leech the entire time.

“So, Floris,” you say, placing your wine glass on the table, “We’ve been living in the same house for three days now and I feel like I don’t know anything about you. Tell me about yourself.” It’s a command more than a request.

Aemond keeps his eye focused on you, the heat of his glare burning into your face. Helaena raises a brow as Jace and Aegon begin talking to one another, oblivious. Helaena has always been the most observant. Floris smiles kindly, not sensing the tension that rolls off your shoulders. It’s the first time you’ve attempted to speak to her.

“Oh ... .well…,” she glances at Aemond though he says nothing, “What would you like to know?”

A smile dances across your lips. This should be fun.

“I can’t remember for the life of me where you studied. Which university did you graduate from again?” you ask, cocking your head to the side, “Was it Harvard or Yale? I always confuse the East Coast ivies.” You laugh breathlessly, shaking your head.

Floris’ eyelashes flutter; a nervous tell. She smiles with a sigh, clearly not used to the spotlight directed at her.

“Oh well I think you’re thinking of my sister Maris,” she answers, cheeks turning a rosy hue of pink. You knew that, obviously. If Aemond wanted intellectually stimulating conversation, he’d have chosen her as his arm candy. “But I’m planning on going back and getting my degree at some point. I’m really interested in botany—”

“Botany! Ha! That was my minor in university,” Helaena chimes in. Floris’ eyes light up, thankful Helaena has joined the conversation. “That’s rather—”

“Flowers?” you interrupt and Floris’ smile falters ever so slightly as her blue eyes return to you.

Unlucky for her, you’ve never been one to give up easily. You reach for your glass, holding it lazily between your fingers. Smiling tightly and tilting your head to the side, you continue your advances.

“Yeah,” Floris shakily answers, “I mean…I don’t know. I haven’t really made up my mi—”

“Have you read any good books recently?” you ask, taking a sip of wine. You watch Aemond begin to tap his fingers against the table out of the corner of your eye.

“Oh um, not really,” Floris answers, “I’m not much of a reader.”

You flick an eyebrow up at that, glancing at Aemond. His pale blue eye holds your gaze, nostrils flaring. Interesting. Aegon and Jace have paused their side conversation.

“Oh?”

The table is silent. It’s like watching a cat play with a mouse. Aemond’s knuckles blanche as he curls his fingers in toward his palm. A waitress walks by, absentmindedly refilling the sweating glasses of water that line the table. Aemond says nothing; he doesn’t jump to his girlfriend’s defense.

Doesn’t look away from you.

Floris wets her lips, smiling politely up at the waitress as she refills her cup. She pauses for a moment, nervously sipping her water. She’s about three mimosas in; you’re sure the alcohol is working in your favor. A layer of nervous sweat covers her brow.

“I mean, I haven’t really—”

“What about current events?” you continue to steamroll her, “Aemond loves staying up to date he must be driving you crazy with all that. Especially with what's been going on recently in the Riverlands.”

“Oh, well I’m not really sure—”

“Oh you aren’t?” you ask in mock confusion, over dramatically pouting, “Hmph. I assumed you’d be interested in his work. I mean as Aemond’s girlfriend and all—”

“Oh well, that’s actually a great segway,” Floris interrupts, her voice shriller than before, as if she’s trying to regain control of the conversation.

You take another sip from your glass, allowing her interruption. You’re enjoying her distressed state. A smile curves at the edge of your lips and you attempt to hide it behind your glass.

“We’ve just been having the loveliest time together, haven’t we?” Floris says, pressing her hand against Aemond’s shoulder.

He makes a soft noise of approval and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. You catch his gaze again, the conversation fading into white noise.

Does Floris know she’s been sleeping on the bed he ruined you on? Your cheeks grow hot. Just a few nights ago you’d been tied to the rails of their headboard. Guilt stabs you in the gut but you choose to ignore the uncomfortable feeling. Floris Baratheon means nothing to you. She’d do the same to you in a heartbeat. There’s no playing fair in these circles.

“—you see we decided to get engaged!”

You choke on your wine, sputtering, and coughing. Droplets of wine stain the white tablecloth like little pink raindrops. Jace rubs a comforting hand on your back.

“Are you alright?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed with concern.

“Sloppy girl you got there, Jacey,” Aegon snickers.

“I’m fine,” you manage in a hoarse voice, “Just went down the wrong way, that’s all.” You can feel droplets of wine running down your chin, onto your neck, and down between your breasts.

Aegon raises his eyebrows, an amused smile on his face as his eyes shamelessly follow the river flowing down your chest. You wipe your chin as you stand from your chair, the legs scraping harshly against the wooden floor.

“I’ll just go freshen up,” you tell everyone. Your throat tightens uncomfortably.

“D’you want me to come with you?” Jace asks, rising halfway from his chair, his brown eyes wide.

“No, I’m fine,” you insist, pressing your hand against his shoulder until he sits back down, “I’ll be right back.”

You don’t look at Aemond, nor anyone else as you hurry past Rhaenyra’s table and between other patrons towards the restroom. Hurrying down the hallway and slamming the door shut behind you, you take a deep breath gazing at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes are wide and bloodshot from your coughing fit, and your chest is shiny and sticky from the wine.

“Seven fucking hells,” you grumble, grabbing one of the provided towels and wetting it in the sink. Cleaning yourself up, you try to stop your hands from shaking.

Engaged.

You shake your head, fixing your hair, trying to rid yourself of the thought.

He’s fucking engaged.

Sleeping with Aemond Targaryen when he has a “girlfriend” is one thing. But fiancee? The thought makes your stomach tighten. Well, it shouldn’t mean anything. You didn’t care then. You shouldn’t care now. You meet your eyes in the mirror, your stomach flipping unpleasantly. You shouldn’t care. Your lower lip trembles, nails digging into the soft flesh of your palms.

Seven hells.

“What are you doing?” you whisper.

What have you been doing? You have a boyfriend. He has a fiancee. You press your hand against your forehead, breathing deeply as your heart thrums against your ribs. A wife practically. Gods if this got out. You don’t even want to think about it. Rhaenyra’s campaign would be jeopardized. Everything you’ve worked for. You’ve been so incredibly reckless.

This has to end.

The door opens and you’re torn from your thoughts as Aemond enters the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Of course, he followed you. You glare at him through the mirror.

“Out.”

“Let me explain—”

“Get out Aemond,” you demand, drying your hands, not turning to face him.

“I meant what I said,” he continues, taking a step forward, “It’s an arrangement that’s all, a publicity stunt—”

“A publicity stunt? You’re getting married,” you hiss, throwing the towel against the counter, meeting his eyes through the mirror once more. It feels hauntingly familiar, looking at him like this; the last time he was buried to the hilt inside of you. “Get. Out.”

“It doesn’t change anything,” he insists.

You laugh bitterly, finally turning to face him. He’s standing inches away from you, so close you can smell the intoxicating scent of his cologne. It makes your head spin. Shit. Stay focused.

“Doesn’t change anything?” you repeat, “She’s going to be your wife.”

“Don’t be such a child,” he snaps, causing you to flinch, “You know how this works. People are paired off together all the time.” He takes a step forward and you back up, your ass nudging against the edge of the sink. “What did you think was going to happen, hm?” He steps even closer, his body completely caging you against the counter.

Aemond places his hands on either side of you. He’s not wrong. You know how this world works. Families align with each other all the time through relationships and marriages. It’s as if they’re frozen in time using betrothals for political gain.

Just look at Rhaenyra and Laenor Velaryon. Their marriage was anything but a loving one. Her children are proof of that, clearly fathered by someone else. You remembered watching them arrive when you were in grade school; exiting the black limousine and not realizing who they were. Their father was rumored to be the head of the Secret Service at the time, Harwin Strong, though this was never confirmed.

“It’s not like Jace is going to let you go,” he murmurs, hands inching closer to your waist, “Or have you not thought that far ahead?”

His hands come to rest on your hips and he chuckles softly at the sound this elicits from you.

“You’re in too deep,” he says, nose brushing against your cheek. His minty breath wafts over your face. One hand remains on your waist, the other trailing up the side of your ribs. Goosebumps bloom on your arms as he reaches your face.

“It’s for the election,” you whisper.

“The water’s over your head,” he murmurs, his hand caressing your cheek, “If you think it’ll end there, you’re not as smart as I thought you were. You’re drowning.”

You swallow, lips parting to give him another snide remark, but he doesn’t let you; the hand that cradles the side of your face pulls you forward and presses your lips to his. You push against his firm chest, disconnecting your lips with a wet pop. Your hand reaches toward your face, your fingertips pressing against your tingling lips.

“You’re getting married—”

“And you’re fucking jealous,” he snarls, bringing his face inches away from yours. You suck in a surprised breath, cheeks warming as his lips curl into that familiar smug smirk, “Worried Floris is getting what you’ve been missing?”

Humiliation makes your skin prickle; the hair on the back of your neck stands on end. Your fingers fall from your lips.

“Fuck you,” you hiss from between clenched teeth, “I don’t care.”

You try to push by him but his hands plant themselves on your middle, holding you firmly in front of him. His hands slide down your waist, cupping the globes of your ass. A disapproving whine leaves your lips as he squeezes the soft flesh harshly, lifting you onto the counter. Your fists beat against his chest and he grabs your wrists.

“You care,” he insists, pressing a kiss against the side of your neck as you twist an arm from his grip to shove him, “Otherwise you wouldn’t be behaving like a spoiled brat in front of everyone.” His lips press against your throat with every word he speaks.

One of his large hands moves up your back winding in your hair and tugging your head backwards. Your forearm presses against his shoulder attempting to push him away. Aemond hums appreciatively against your throat, pressing another soft kiss against it. Your breathing hitches as he continues to kiss your neck, warm desire pooling in your belly. You stop pushing, curling your hand into the fabric of his shirt instead, pulling him closer.

“It’s been three days,” he murmurs, continuing his exploration up your neck with his lips, nipping and sucking at the smooth skin, “Three days without this cock is driving you crazy, huh?”

“Aemond,” you try to snap at him but it’s dangerously close to a moan, “They’ll be waiting for us—” You’re silenced by his fingers thrusting through your parted lips, pressing down against your tongue.

“Shhh,” he hushes in a condescending tone, “I think that pretty mouth has said enough, don’t you agree?” You watch him with wide eyes as he presses further down your throat until the tips of his fingers reach the rough surface of the back of your tongue causing you to gag. He moves his fingers back.

“C’mon, you can do better than that,” he scolds, tapping your cheek with his other hand. His eyes narrow as he presses his fingers further down your throat once more. Your throat constricts and you claw at his bicep, fighting the urge to gag again. You hollow your cheeks, sucking his three fingers in your mouth. “There she is. That’s much better— there’s a good girl, that’s it.”

He removes his soaked fingers, a line of saliva still connected to your lips. Gasping for breath you feel him part your legs, his hand sneaking under your dress. You can feel his cool, wet fingers against your inner thighs.

“Aem—”

“What did I say?” His words are clipped and irritated. His fingers graze against your clothed center, pressing lightly against your soaked center. You can feel how much you want him. How right he was about the jealousy that burns in your belly. You’re sure he can feel it too.

A muffled whine leaves your lips as his fingers pull your panties to the side, parting your silky wet folds. You’re embarrassingly wet already. Aemond chuckles darkly, fingers dipping against your entrance and gathering some of your arousal before circling your clit.

“You’re begging to get fucked, you know that?” he asks, his voice husky and strained, “Walking around here looking like this.” The hand in your hair tightens and pinpricks of pleasure sting your scalp. “Needy. Little. Slut.” His fingers pinch your clit on the last word and you cry out.

Aemond slams his lips against yours to silence your cry and you hook a leg around his slim waist, heel digging into his lower back pulling him closer. He kisses you feverishly like he means to devour you. It’s sloppy and his teeth scrape against your lip but you don’t care. It’s been days without him speaking to you, let alone touching you. You’ve felt like you were going crazy.

Not that you were about to admit that to him.

Your breathing is turning to pants as he continues to kiss you, fingers circling your bud with determined precision. Your eyebrows scrunch together as the current of pleasure in your abdomen winds tighter, and your toes begin to curl. You whine against his mouth and he shushes you once more.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls through an open-mouthed kiss, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth.

You accept it greedily and your limbs turn to jelly when he licks at the roof of your mouth. One hand clings to his bicep, nails digging into the hardened muscle while the other winds around his neck and tangles in his hair. His hand dips lower, two fingers stretching inside of your warm waiting pussy.

“That’s it,” he murmurs as you shudder at the stretch, “Fucking c’mon then—” his fingers crook upwards pressing against the spongy section of your walls that has your back arching, and black spots dancing across your vision.

“Gods—” you whine, clenching around his digits as his thumb presses against your clit. His fingers are longer and thicker than your own; you’d indulged yourself several times the past few days but masturbation was nothing compared to the pleasure Aemond is able to give you.

“This is all you needed, huh?” he asks, steadily beginning to finger you, focusing all his attention on caressing your sweet spot. “Oh yeah. You’re so much happier with my fingers buried inside this tight little cunt, huh?” Your face flushes as he speaks to you. Every stroke of his fingers sends waves of pleasure washing over you. Your jaw slacks, eyes squeezing shut. Every nerve ending in your body is singing as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

“You want my mouth on this sweet little pussy?” he asks gruffly, his face pressed against yours, “Tell me how badly you want it. C’mon. Tell me.” The squelching sound of his fingers is borderline pornographic in the small space.

“Yes!” you wail.

“Beg me,” his voice is rough, the commanding tone causing your walls to spasm around his lengthy digits.

“Please,” you whine, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. He knows your body so well. Too damn well. Every curl of his fingers incessantly bullies against your sweet spot. You can feel your walls pulsating around his fingers, squeezing him tighter and tighter and tighter.

“Please what, baby?”

Your teeth are clenched together, and a whimper gets caught in your throat. Your eyes roll back in your skull as he slows his pace stroking just right. Your head tilts back gently tapping against the mirror, mouth hanging open in bliss as you try to find the words.

“Please—please I need your mouth—”

“Yeah?” he says, an amused, open-mouthed grin slashed across his face, “Where?”

Seven hells he’s relentless. You bite your lip hard enough to draw blood, your heel presses against his buttock, your back arching off the counter desperately grinding against his hand for more friction. Gods you’re practically fucking yourself on his hand your hips rutting against his palm.

“Please! Please on my pus—” Your sentence dies as Aemond kneels in front of you. “Aemond—oh god,” you moan as he presses his face against you, one hand holding your panties to the side, as his tongue slides over your aching clit.

“Since you begged,” he murmurs, suckling your clit between his lips and sucking; tongue lavishing the sensitive button with even strokes.

His tongue is deliciously warm and firm, tracing little circles around your clit and making your mind go blank, the last few moments forgotten. His fingers stroke the rough patch at the front of your sensitive walls and he presses against it with brutal determination.

Your thighs shake around his head, fingers tangling in his hair as the pressure in your belly builds, winding tighter and tighter until at last white-hot pleasure bursts through you; your muscles go taut and you cry out, slamming the back of your hand against your mouth to stifle the noise as you release barrels through you.

He fucks you through it, a low rumble of appreciation bursting through his chest as the wet, sucking sound of his fingers grows louder with your release. The pleasure is almost too much; it ignites you completely.

A rush of air enters the small space and your head snaps up. Aemond is quick to stand, mouth falling away from you and your release fizzles out.

Daemon leans against the doorframe, a knowing smirk on his face as he purses his lips. His eyes follow the length of Aemond’s arm down to where it disappears still beneath your dress. Aemond’s fingers slip out of your pussy, the soaked digits dragging a wet path down against your inner thighs leaving you despairingly empty.

“Carry on,” Daemon murmurs, letting the door close behind him as he exits.

Blood rushes in your ears and the room begins to spin. It’s like Daemon took all the air in the room with him. Black spots appear in your vision.

“Fuck,” you’re nearly panting, “Oh gods—” Your mind is beginning to spiral, the high of pleasure leaving your limbs. “Shit,” you breathe, fixing your panties, hopping off of the counter, “—fuck.”

Aemond reaches for the sink, and he turns it on calmly, beginning to wash his hands.

“Relax.”

“Relax?”

He shuts off the faucet, drying his hands as he faces you.

“He’s not going to say—”

“Aemond,” you stop him, holding your hand up, “Just don’t.”

Fixing yourself quickly, Aemond stands in stony silence as you open the door and flee the bathroom. You return to the table, not looking at anyone. Sitting beside Jace you reach for your wine, downing the rest of it, trying to ignore the ache between your legs.

Aemond rejoins a moment later, reclaiming his seat next to Floris. She holds out the menu, pointing at something trying to show him. It takes him a moment to get back into character. You watch him blink before slinging an arm over the back of her chair and leaning into her, seemingly very interested in what she’s showing him.

You place your glass on the table, your leg bouncing uncontrollably. Helaena watches you, lilac eyes narrowed. Turning away from her scrutinizing gaze you subtly glance at Rhaenyra’s table.

Daemon meets your eyes, raising his glass to salute you.

Fuck.

You forgo dinner later that day, claiming the sun has gone to your head. Hiding beneath the silk sheets of you and Jace’s bed seems like a much better way to spend the evening. You try to busy yourself on your phone but your thoughts keep going back to Daemon. The smirk he wore, the look in his eyes.

Caught you.

Your stomach turns and suddenly the blue light is making you feel nauseous and you throw your phone across the room. The sun bleeds orange tendrils of light across the floor as it lowers over the horizon, the hours ticking by as you lay in silence.

The door creaks open when the room is shrouded in darkness. The mattress dips as Jace sits, placing a comforting hand on your back.

“Hey,” he says softly, rubbing slow circles over the covers, “How’re you feeling?”

“Miserable,” you answer truthfully.

“I’m sorry baby,” he murmurs, “Do you want me to stay?”

“No,” you tell him, “I’m sure there’s something planned, you should join them.”

“It’s just a movie,” he tells you, “Joffrey picked it. Some crazy action film.”

“Charming,” you grumble as he places a kiss on the top of your head.

“Can I bring you something later?” he asks, and you don’t answer, “Get some rest.”

He gently closes the door as he leaves and the nausea comes back. You don’t deserve him. Jace knows, you’re sure of it. He knows there’s someone else. He’s just too nice to say anything.

Whether he knows it’s Aemond you’ve been sleeping with is a different story.

It should make you feel worse than it does.

You sit up, throwing off the covers suddenly very hot. You can’t sit in this room anymore, can’t lie down and sulk. It’s driving you up a wall, making you want to crawl out of your skin. You need fresh air. Rising from the bed, you throw on a pair of shorts and a simple t-shirt along with some flip-flops.

The hallway is quiet when you enter; everyone must still be in the theater room or have gone to bed. You quickly pad down the stairs, the sound of your flip-flops echoing through the grand entryway as they slap against the marble staircase. Heading through the spacious kitchen you open the sliding glass doors and head out the back towards the pool.

You see him as soon as you step onto the patio. He’s standing at the far end of the pool, a lit cigarette dangling from his perfect mouth. He glances at you, the cherry red tip pointed in your direction. He’s taken his hair down, the silver waves ripple over his shoulders.

The pool is filled with lights dancing on the blue surface; little lotus flowers holding candles. A basket of beach towels sits next to the door and you grab one. Aemond watches your movements as you walk along the side of the pool coming closer to him.

“What are you doing?” you ask, watching him crush the cigarette under his shoe.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Didn’t know you smoked.”

“Only during times of stress.”

You nod, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth. You don’t ask him to follow you, but he does all the same as you continue to walk the edge of the pool until you reach the beginning of the yard. You walk on the grass until you reach the dimly lit cobblestone path you’d seen during the tour of Summerhall house Alicent had given the day you’d arrived. Fairy lights have been strung along the railing that leads down to a small private beach giving the path a feeling of perpetual summer. Aemond’s footsteps echo behind you sounding heavier than your own.

As you arrive at the end of the steps you remove your shoes. Your feet sink into the sand, cooler now with the blazing summer sun not hanging overhead.

“You shouldn’t swim at night,” Aemond comments.

“I’m not going to swim,” you tell him, placing your shoes on the last step, “Are you coming?”

Aemond hums, hesitating for a moment as he holds your gaze. He truly looks ethereal with the moonlight casting shadows along the angles of his face. That chiseled jaw, those striking cheekbones. His prominent long nose. He could have gone into modeling if not politics, that you’re sure of.

You walk side by side further down the beach before you spread the towel and sit on top of it. You pat the spot beside you and he accepts the silent invitation to sit. For a moment neither of you speak, staring out at the waves that gently lap against the shore. The lights of the city are visible from here, just shiny little stars sparkling against the horizon.

You can feel his gaze shift as he looks at you. What was it he said to you a few days ago?

You can’t fool me.

“I can speak to Daemon,” Aemond says softly, “Make sure he doesn’t…”

“Don’t bother,” you cut him off, “You and I are a ticking time bomb. It could have been anyone walking in on us.”

At least it was Daemon. If he releases it, he’ll spin it to make Aemond look like the sleaze; cheating on poor, doe-eyed Floris Baratheon. You don’t even want to think about the possibility of Otto or Alicent walking in on you.

It’s always easier to scandalize women.

If Daemon spoke to Rhaenyra, she’d make him leave your name out of it. Nameless, faceless. Just some girl. Curiosity gnaws at you.

“Why wouldn’t you say something?” you ask him suddenly, “You could get on top of this before Daemon goes to the press. He’ll ruin you with this.”

“I’m not worried,” Aemond responds coolly, “I’m not scared of a little scandal.”

You think back to the stories you’d heard about him. The dutiful son with his sprinkle of bad decisions. Aemond cleans up his messes, unlike his elder.

“I suppose your family is very protective of your reputation,” you agree, tucking your knees against your chest.

“You don’t have that sort of protection,” he says softly.

It’s true. The Targaryen and Hightower names are like royalty compared to everyone else. Sucking your lower lip between your teeth, you slowly shake your head.

“No,” you agree, “I don’t.”

“I’m not going to say anything,” he clarifies, “I expect Aegon to win this campaign without the additional nonsense.”

You snort out a laugh. Even now he can’t help but try and push your buttons. It’s inevitable, the two of you. Always trying to one-up one another.

“Yeah okay. Well, we’ll see about that. Besides, Rhaenyra’s numbers have increased steadily since the debate,” you tell him, bumping your shoulder against his. The small contact leaves a burning feeling where your skin meets his.

“Don’t count your eggs before they hatch,” he softly teases.

“I know my chickens.”

Aemond frowns, giving you a quizzical look. “That’s not a saying.”

“Says who?” you ask, arching a brow at him.

This is easy, this is good. Just banter. Just Aemond versus you. It’s much more simple when you’re on opposite sides of the playing field.

“Surely someone,” he says leaning back against his hands.

The waves crash loudly against the rocks and seafoam sizzles against the sand. The moonlight reflects off of the top of the surf sending a silver trail down the middle of the water, splitting it neatly in two.

“Why?” you softly ask, tapping your fingers against your calves.

“Why what?” Aemond asks.

“Why aren’t you going to say anything?”

Aemond stares at you, his gaze burning into the side of your face until you can’t stand it. Turning your head, you meet his heated gaze.

“You know why.”

Your head tilts to the side, eyes not leaving his. “That’s a problem.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Aemond insists, “If we’re careful.” Aemond wets his lips, “What do you want?”

Your heart is beating so fast against your ribs it's almost painful. You place your palms against the towel, pushing against it trying to ground yourself.

“This…” you struggle to find the words, opting for another shake of your head, “This will never work. You and I; we hate each other.”

“Yes,” Aemond agrees, his hand moving on top of yours.

“And you’re engaged,” you continue as his fingers lace through yours. Oh gods. There it is. That ache deep inside of you; a bottomless pit of want that threatens to swallow you whole.

“I’m engaged,” he agrees, reaching over to stroke your cheek, “And you’re with Jace.”

His thumb strokes your cheekbone, hand cradling your jaw. The action is affectionate and caring. It’s so tender, so endearing you almost burst into tears.

“I’m with Jace,” it’s barely a whisper, “I’m with—” You don’t get a chance to finish. His mouth is on yours before Jace’s name leaves your lips. There’s only Aemond.

You fall into the familiar rhythm quickly as he climbs on top of you, kissing you all the while. The sounds of the waves are deafening, matching the beating of your heart, of blood rushing in your ears. It’s too much and not enough at the same time. You want to lose yourself in the sound, in the feeling of him on top of you, pressing against you. He’s everything. He’s all-consuming.

It’s too late for anything else.

You’ve already been devoured.

The heat of the morning sun wakes you, a light sheen of sweat covering you. The side of your face itches and you bring a hand to it, brushing away some sand. Sand sticks to your legs and arms. Aemond lays beside you on his back, an arm thrown over his eye to block the sun.

“We fell asleep,” you tell him, squinting at the rising sunlight.

Whirl. Click!

A noise startles you. Must be the birds. Pushing yourself into a seated position, you brush some sand from your arm. Aemond turns onto his side, throwing an arm lazily over your outstretched legs. His hand curls against the meat of your thigh causing you to chuckle.

“Someone’s needy,” you tease, combing some hair from his face.

He growls his eye remaining shut, but the corner of his mouth quirks in a smile.

Whirl. Click! Whirl.

Craning your neck, you raise your arms above your head, yawning as you stretch. A sliver of flesh is exposed as you do so, and Aemond reaches his hand to grasp your waist, tugging you closer. You definitely shouldn’t have fallen asleep. Jace is probably worried sick. You pat your shorts. Shit. You’d left your phone as well.

“They’ll be looking for us,” you tell him, attempting to escape his grasp.

“Let them look,” he says, voice rough with sleep, as he pulls you close, pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips.

Click!

You turn. There’s that noise again. As your ears adjust, you’re less sure that it’s simply the sounds of the birds rustling in their nests. The waves crash against the rocks, and you look over the dunes as the sea breeze rustles through them.

There it is.

A photographer, laying on his belly in the dunes, camera held at the ready. Whirl. Click! Your heart drops into your stomach. You’re going to be sick, for real this time.

You should have known.

Pushing away from Aemond, you pull your shirt down, dusting off the remaining sand.

“You’re a real fucking asshole,” you hiss, pulling the towel out from under him.

Aemond frowns at the sudden change, watching as you shake the towel out before chucking it in his direction. He catches it, leaning back slightly, surprised at the force of your throw.

“What?” Aemond says, face a mask of confusion.

“Shame I wasn’t in some skimpy suit, bet the press would have a field day putting those photos side by side with you and Floris,” you tell him scoffing, “I should’ve fucking known better.”

He calls your name. You don’t turn back, shielding your face as you hear the click of the camera once more attempting to save whatever dignity you have left. You can hear Aemond struggle to sand as you move toward the stairs, slipping on your shoes. His hand wraps around your forearm as you begin to climb them, halting your steps.

“This was not me,” he insists, “Look, Storm’s End yes, I did that but I had nothing to do with this—”

“I am such a fucking idiot,” you snap, ignoring him.

“I swear it-” You tug your arm away from his grasp, his expression crestfallen.

“I don’t even know why I’m surprised,” you tell him, laughing bitterly, “Like I didn’t know who I was dealing with.”

Aemond’s lips part, but he says nothing. You open your mouth to speak again.

Click! Whirl. Click!

“Fucking hells,” you mumble, turning away and running up the steps back towards the main house.

Tears stream down your face, hot and wet as you continue to climb. They’ve already got their money shot. You won’t give them one of you crying as well.

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insomniakisses · 4 months

Text

An eye for an eye | One

Characters: Aemond x sister reader (platonic), Rhaenyra x sister reader (platonic), Alicent x step daughter reader (Platonic) (hotd characters)

Reader type: Female

Warnings / Notes: tw viserys, tw otto, tw daemon, events of driftmark, absent and shitty father viserys, metions of torturous, dragons, graphic violent scenes. I think thats it. Possable targcest in the future.

Part 2 (coming soon)

You couldn’t help the giggles that escaped your lips as you ran around the gardens, aemond chasing after you soft giggles falling from him two. The younger boy declaring he was going to catch you but he was at a disadvantage you were 4 years older than him, though even at the age of 10 he was gaining height and strength.

You begin to slow as tiredness kicks in and he smirks, using the last of his energy to surge forward catching up with ease as he wraps his arms around you and pushes you both to the floor. Laughter escaping you both on impact. Though its short lived when rhaenyra comes bolting over pulling you off the ground a hard glare fixed on her face.

“That is most un-lady like sister,” she hisses before her gaze fixes on your brother, “Aemond do you not know how to properly behave around a lady?” She scolds and you roll your eyes seeing jace and luke laughing behind her.

“I- we were playing! Only playing! Shes not hurt i promise-“ the young prince stutters clearly afraid of the much older royals wraith knowing just how protective of you your sister can be.

“Really?” She draws out with a scoff bringing ur arm into view and he sees the smallest of scrapes along your forearm his eyes widening.

“Rhaenyra!” You call shaking off her grip and moving to stand by Aemond, “its barely an injury, it doesn’t even hurt. You needn’t worry yourself!” You exclaim hand clasping Aemond’s as you continue. “He will take me to the maesters to get it checked out now, won’t you Aem?”

The boy nods with a small smile when you squeeze his hand in reassurance making sure he knows your not in the slightest mad at him and that everything is okay.

Spending the rest of the day inside the two of you resigned to the library reading up on family histories and practicing your High Valyrian. Save the brief interruption from Alicent, the queen asking to check your injury having been informed by Rhaenyra that her “undisciplined” son had caused you harm.

Though as soon as she saw you two laughing and joking around she knew in her heart that there was no way he would have hurt you. Especially not intentionally.

You simply smile at the queen greeting her by her title and allowing her to gently lift your arm inspecting the wound before she left you be leaving a soft kiss to both of your heads as she bid her goodbyes. On her way to the king no doubt.

— one year later —

The whole family was being taken to Driftmark, apparently for the funeral of Laena Velarion. Though the two of you had only spoken once, having accidentally ran into her and Rhaenyra, she seemed nice enough and you were sad that she had died so early into her life. Your half-sibling however didn’t seem to care. Aegon was ceaselessly complaining as usual, Helaena of in her own world like always and Aemond, well he was respectful enough to understand why you were going but he clearly wasn’t saddened by the news.

The king and Alicent were set to arrive by boat accompanied by the four of you, but Aegon having recently mounted Sunfyre for a real flight insisted he go by dragon back the king uncaringly agreeing and shooing of Alicent’s protests. Her visible worry evident the whole way as she picked and chewed at her fingers you and Aemond sharing a concern look before going over to her. Grasping a hand each you held her tightly and she smiled. You couldn’t tell if it was forced or not, but she let out a small exhale as she held you giving away she was more relaxed even if it was only slightly.

Once the ship had docked Alicent all but ran to Aegon though he rolled his eyes and told her to leave him be as he wasn’t a child anymore. He failed to see how she flinched when Sunfyre moved or how she stood still till the dragon moved away. One of her biggest fears dragons were, something you had picked up recently.

You latch back onto her arm when she’s beside you again, having grown rather attached to her in the years of Rhaenyras absence. She had left without warning or a goodbye. You can still remember the nights you laid crying for her hugs or her soft touch when she braided your hair helping you ready yourself in the morning. All of that was Alicent’s job now, not that she minded, she loved you as her own and enjoyed how you curled against her needy for a mother’s touch. She just wishes you wouldn’t call her Alicent, it always hurt her not hearing the word “mother”.

———— That Night ————

The funeral had been somewhat uneventful, Aegon had gotten drunk and was sent to bed early by Otto and Daemon had made a scene laughing during the ceremony. But that was all really, soon you were all sent to bed and you had fallen asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. Exhausted from the day of traveling no doubt.

However, the sound of whooshing and a dragons deep roar had woken you, slipping on a cloak and your shows you had gone to investigate. By the time you came downstairs there was shouting and a trail of blood into the main hall. Following it you entered seeing Aemond holding his eye and the adults screaming at each other. Jace with bloody hands and Luke with a broken nose yet Rhaenyra, Daemon and Laenor were nowhere in sight. You rushed to Aemond side feeling Alicent pull u into her body your hand grasping her dress as you stares at the bloody sight.

Then in came Rhaenyra and you completely zoned out staying by Aemond’s side and holding his hand throughout the whole ordeal. Crying for your brother when the king seemed not to care and made no move to punish the boys for attacking him.

After all was said and done Aemond was given milk of the poppy and essence of night shade for the pain and to help him sleep. While the rest of you were ushered to your respective chambers though you slept very little worried about Aemond and so saddened at Rhaenyra’s intention of having someone torturing him. Afterall he had just lost an eye.

———— Back in Kings Landing ————

“ALICENT ENOUGH!” the king roared, having had enough of her nagging.

“THEY TOOK HIS EYE, YOUR GRACE, SOMEONE HAS TO PAY!” And he sighs sitting on his throne looking half dead.

“My dear wife,” he starts voice bored and tired. “Lucerys is just a boy. Children fight. Get over it.”

She scoffs at this, fighting the urge to yell again knowing his power out matches hers. “A debt is due your grace, an eye for an eye. He is your son!”

“What would you have me do?” He scoffs, “The boy is at dragon stone and he is my grandchild.”

“I dont care!” The queen protests, “You have to do something! Rhaenyra’s son has taken the eye of my own, a punishment is deserved. Someone must be punished!” If the queen had known her lack of precise words would lead to the events that would unfold that night she would never have been so careless.

“Fetch Y/n” is all he mutters and a guard sets of at once, Alicent so caught up in her thoughts not quiet hearing what he had ordered. Its only when a sleepy and confused you is escorted in that her breath quickens.

You stand there rubbing the sleep from your eyes, blinking away exhaustion as your blanket lays draped over your shoulders giving you a slight waddle when you walk.

“What is she-“ Alicent is cut of by the king. “Bring me her eye, a debt is to be payed and she is like a daughter to Rhaenyra. Lets settle this now”

Your heart fills with fear and dread as does Alicent’s as your grabbed by two guards another forcing his knife into your flesh. Alicent screaming protest as she herself is restrained tears falling down her face at your pained crys and shrieks. Your father simply holding his head in his hand as he feels another migraine coming.

“MOMMA PLEASE! IT HURTS MOM PLEASE MOMMY HELP!” you continue to scream and thrash around the knife in your flesh leaving messy cuts until your eye pulls out with a sickening wet pop and you scream loud.

You both released and alicent runs to you scooping you up and rocking you as you cry, hands balling up her dress as a mumbles mantra of “momma” escapes your lips she holds you as the maesters tend to your wounds and give you all the same teas and treatments Aemond had gotten in drifting mark. The king and guards now long gone.

“Im so sorry baby” is all she keeps saying kissing your head and carrying you to her chambers. You spend the night there, tucked into her embrace as she holds you swearing to protect you from this day swearing that one day the king will get what he deserves. And praying to the gods for all her children to be safe.

A/n. So this was part one hope u liked it 😁

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achaoticeternal · 1 year

Text

the winner takes it all.

AEMOND TARGARYEN X FEM!READER

summary: the war had caused you to flee the Red Keep in favor of returning to your mother, Rhaenyra. however, it seems your husband has finally caught up to you. word count: 5.2k warnings: !!SPOILERS FOR DANCE OF THE DRAGON!! niece!reader, men having the audacity, sexism, canon typical violence, cheating a/n: i spent so long reading and revising this and i really enjoyed it :)

listen to this song to follow

I don't wanna talk/ About things we've gone through/ Though it's hurting me/ Now it's history/ I've played all my cards/ And that's what you've done too/ Nothing more to say/ No more ace to play

The shrieks from Meleys had now vanished, leaving a deafening silence in their place. After Rhaenyra, your mother, forced you to leave Dragonestone with Rhaenys, Rook’s Rest was supposed to be your safe haven. Your beloved mother claimed it to be the one place where the Greens could not reach you besides the Vale.

Yet here you sat in your bedroom, against the advisement of your attendants and guards. They all begged you to either mount your dragon for Winterfell, or hide in the crypts till Aegon and Aemond finished scouring the castle in search of anything they desired. But you were tired of running, of listening to what others thought best for you, rather than trusting your own intuition. Though you were also conflicted at what would be best… should you run or wait for him to find you…?

“It seems the scouts were not lying,” The voice of the blonde-haired prince echoed across the room, signaling that he had discovered your whereabouts, “My wife at Rook’s Rest…”

Tearing your eyes from the window, you turned to look at the man, your husband, Prince Aemond Targaryen. He stood tall before you; adorned in all-black armor with a green cape billowing behind him. His signature eye patch still covered his lost eye. Though Aemond had hardly aged since you last saw him, it was clear to see that the Dance of the Dragons was taking much of his strength and energy.

“Aemond…” you whispered, taking in the sight in front of you.

“My wife,” Aemond nodded curtly. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the guards that were with him, “It has been too many moons since you abandoned me.”

With his words, you stood, looking crossly at him, “I did not abandon you.”

“You left me -- vanished out of thin air.”

“Aegon stole my mother’s throne! What was I supposed to do?”

“Stay with your husband! The man you married and vowed to be obedient too!”

“Obedient?” You repeated with a cold chuckle.

You then silenced yourself, thinking for a moment. It was no good to harp on whether you should or shouldn’t have left King’s Landing. For you already had, and it was impossible to undo the events of Aegon’s coronation and the days following. How Alicent locked you away for hours, Aemond being absent for reasons unknown to you, the way the Conqueror’s crown sat upon Aegon’s head, and how Rhaenys released Meleys into the coronation.

Or how, by your Queen Mother’s orders, Daemon flew to the Red Keep on Caraxes and freed both yourself and your dragon from the Greens to bring you home…

“It will do us no good to quarrel over what happened that day, I made the choice that I thought was best at the moment. If you must blame me for that, so be it…”

The winner takes it all/ The loser's standing small/ Beside the victory/ That's her destiny

Aemond cast his gaze down at your words, mulling over them. Every night since your disappearance, he dreamt of what it would be like when you reunited. When he had first heard word that you had returned to the ancestral home of the Targaryens of Westeros, he had been upset, even spiteful. Though he still longed, day after day, to see you again… to hold you again…

“You’re right,” He spoke with a curt nod, “It does not matter, because you’ll be returning to Harrenhal with me.”

Aemond began to stalk toward you with a determined look upon his cold features. You gave no indication of how you felt, instead just shaking your head, “I will go with you, but allow me to sit for a moment more.”

“You wish to delay me?” His brow furrowed.

“There is always time to spare,” You responded, nonchalantly. A silence fell over both of you. You looked at him -- how his hair was braided back, blood of fallen men splattered in it though his face was clear from it. But his soft violet eye reminded you of your childhood, when Aemond was far softer… far kinder… “Do you ever think back and wonder how this could have been avoided? How silly it is that the House of the Dragon is fighting itself?”

Casting your gaze down, a small smile came across your face as you thought of better days. Sure, there was still tension then, but there was no war at least.

“It does us no good to dwell on the past,” Aemond dismissed your question.

“No, but it does us good to remember.”

I was in your arms/ Thinking I belonged there/ I figured it made sense/ Building me a fence

Your childhood was filled with the most fantastic days in the Red Keep. Though you were naturally close with your brothers, you had also befriended your aunt and uncle, Helaena and Aemond.

Helaena and you would spend hours braiding each other’s hair while discussing whatever piqued the princess’ interest. Aemond would often join, making jokes and teasing the two princesses.

However, once Aemond had lost his eye at the hand of your little brother, he grew more silent and observant. When he had first lost the eye, you were certain that he disdained you due to the association of your siblings. It took a great while, but you learned in time and in letters that your uncle did not blame you for his lost eye. You were not even there to defend him, only being awoken by your mother when all convened in the halls of Driftmark.

As you grew into your adolescence, the Queen requested that you serve as her ward -- so while your brothers enjoyed their teenage youth at Dragonstone, you spent your days in the Red Keep. Rhaenyra had also sent you so that you could also assist in the care of your grandsire, the King.

At first, it was strange, being so far from your family but being reunited with your cousins. Mostly you observed how much Aegon tormented every living creature within the Red Keep and would often catch him fleeing to the Street of Silk when you would walk back to your personal chambers after spending late nights in the library.

After the third time of watching Aegon slip out of the castle, you decided it would be in the best interest of your family name that his promiscuity is reported. You could have gone straight to the Queen, and cry to her about how Aegon ran away nightly while poor Helaena had to carry his children. But instead, you found yourself in front of Aemond’s door. At the time, you thought that in telling him, maybe he could tell Alicent and it be more believable.

“Uncle!” You knocked at his door, loud enough to stir him, but not alert the rest of the Red Keep.

Moments later, Aemond opened his door, sleep still in his eye but you could tell that he did throw on his robe and his eye patch. He looked slightly cross and yet his gaze softened when his eye fell upon you, “My lady…?” “I’m sorry to awaken you at this hour… but I think something is… wrong?”

“Wrong?” He replied simply, crossing his arms.

“Yes…” You spoke softly, starting to feel awkward in your day gown, “It's’... it’s Aegon…”

In an instant, Aemond had tugged you fully into his chambers, shutting and locking the great door behind you. You glanced at him in confusion, backing away from the prince. The thought of being caught alone with your uncle, no matter how innocent the conversation, finally occurred to you and how it could affect your honor.

“What has Aegon done?” Aemond turned to you, stalking rather close, “Did he touch you?”

“What?” The breath trapped itself in your throat. His hands went to your shoulders, keeping you still before his eye.

“Did he touch you, my sweet niece?” His words were accusatory and yet soft as he spoke to you.

“I— no… he did not touch me.”

A sigh of relief came over him as he finally let you go from his grip. The relief confused you, but you did not press him on the matter.

“Aemond, he’s gone. For the past three nights when I am returning to my chambers from the library, I see Aegon sneak out of his room and flee toward the city… I believe he has been going to see…” The last word did not escape your lips, but Aemond fully understood what you meant.

“He’s going to seek the affection of whores…”

“So you know?” You asked innocently.

“My brother has his vices…” Aemond spoke incredulously, “And it is no secret that he is going to seek comfort on the Street of Silk… But, dear niece, why are you spending late nights in the library unattended?”

The way Aemond had turned it around on you was surprising for you, “I spend most of my time during the day with either the Queen or the Princess, so I thought that spending some time in the evening would be fine.”

Aemond nodded and thought for a moment before responding, “I will join you from now on. Even though the Keep is the safest place in King’s Landing, it is still unwise to be alone. So I shall be your chaperon…”

All you could do was nod in agreement, there was no reason to fight against your uncle. He was just trying to keep you safe.

Soon, your time in the library with Aemond became more regular. It was like clockwork. After supper, Aemond would escort you to the library and then back to your room. Some nights, he would read you the histories, other nights you would read him poetry, and on the occasion, he would take it upon himself to further advance your High Valyrian.

“Dārys” Aemond spoke first, the words always falling from his lips so eloquently.

“Dārys,” You would repeat, trying to replicate each syllable perfectly, “King.”

“Dāria”

“Dāria — Queen.”

Aemond smiled, proud of your improved pronunciations, “Gevie mēre.”

“Gevie mēre,” you repeated after him once more. Except you were not as familiar with this term…

“Gevie mēre…?” You repeated once more, picking your brain for what the words could mean.

Looking to Aemond, you hoped he would answer for you, the words simply lost on you. Instead, he chuckled and began to walk toward the couch. He ushered you to sit next to him, picking up one of the books he placed on the desk, “Come, ñuha riña, allow me to read to you before you must return to your chambers for the evening.”

At his words, you joined him, sitting comfortably by his side. From when he had originally decided to start joining you, it became a far more open space for the two of you, bonding you closer to each other. That’s why you tucked yourself into his side and he rested his arm around your shoulder while he began reading. The nightly company of your uncle was now one of the simplest pleasures in your life that you deeply cherished.

It was an honor to be the cupbearer for the Queen and her father, the Hand. Yet being in the small council room had its own frightening things as well with Jason Lannister often jesting that he would bribe the Queen to end your wardship and allow you to marry him. His disregard for your own mother disgusted you, as well as the fact that the Lannister man was already betrothed to the daughters of one of his bannermen. Instead of reacting to his advances, Alicent or Otto would dismiss his words with a glare or small correction for you.

However one day, Otto ordered for Aegon and Aemond to join the Small Council since they would one day sit in the room quite regularly. While Aegon would doze off and consistently ask you to fill his cup, Aemond would be fully attentive, paying you little attention. You didn’t mind, since you understood how seriously he took his duty.

But when Jason Lannister once again began his verbal torment against you, it shifted something in Aemond.

“My lady,” the Lannister Lord purred, “You are growing into quite a fine, young woman.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” you nodded but offered nothing else to him.

With a smirk, he continued his flirtation, “Your mother or grandsire will soon have to marry you off. I can imagine there are many men that would enjoy taking you as their little wife.”

“My mother nor grandsire are considering any proposals currently, or while I serve as the Queen’s ward,” You spoke quickly, eager to get away from the man.

Before you could leave his side, Jason grabbed your wrist, “That is a shame. It would be a pleasure to have you myself, and watch your belly grow with Lannister children…”

Aemond’s voice soon interrupted the crude words, “Lord Lannister, unhand my niece.”

Aemond's voice was firm and his jaw remained clenched. There was a fire in his eyes that you did not recognize. However, the fingers around your wrist were soon gone and you escaped to stand between the Queen’s and Aemond’s chairs. You offered thankful glances to the prince, but he did not show you the same warmth.

That same night, instead of taking you to the library after dinner, Aemond sent you off to your chambers. Helaena attempted to reassure you, but you could not help but think about what you could have possibly done to upset him.

Soon enough, a knock was upon your door, your maid announcing that Aemond had come to fetch you.

Together, the pair of you walked silently and side-by-side toward the library. Once you arrived, Aemond went to sit by the fireplace while you would peruse the shelves for you favorite books of poems. The room remained quiet besides the shuffles of books and pages as you searched for your beloved texts. You finally found it on a shelf with some of the common histories of Westeros.

As you reached for it, the small book was just beyond your reach. Not even your outstretched fingers could close the distance to the binding. The footstep you would typically use was missing, so your struggle continued. It continued until a hand outstretched itself to retrieve it off the shelf before you. You turned around to face Aemond, who looked down at you while offering the book to you.

“Thank you.”

Aemond nodded but did not retreat. He looked into your eyes a moment more before he finally spoke, “Lord Lannister has requested your hand.”

“My mother would never allow it,” You replied simply, reaffirming your clear disgust with the Lord. Aemond chuckled at this, unsurprised.

“That is true…” Aemond nodded, “True since she has betrothed you to someone else…”

The book slipped from your fingers at his words. Shaking your head, you took a deep breath, attempting to calm yourself, “Betrothed? To whom?”

Aemond bent down to pick up the book. Instead of standing back up, he dropped to one knee and looked up at you, offering the book to you once more, “To me…”

Building me a home/ Thinking I'd be strong there/ But I was a fool/ Playing by the rules

The day you married Aemond was a beautiful one. A singular moment where the full House was together and a fight did not ensue. Originally, you knew that Rhaenyra and Alicent had agreed to the betrothal so that old wounds could finally heal. Though the marriage would not see such hopes through, it was still a blessing enough to marry your sweet Aemond.

Days earlier, Lucerys had been reaffirmed of his position as heir of Driftmark which resulted in the death of your great-uncle Vaemond. Though the events had caused high tension in the court and at dinner that night, all members of the House of the Dragon attempted to be on their best behavior. Both you and Aemond had requested an intimate ceremony with just the family, and that the nobles of the realm could participate in the feasting instead.

Between dances with your husband, your brothers, and even your grandsire, there was a great joy that filled your heart. Your mother, Rhaenyra, had smiled for the first time since arriving from Dragonstone, and even Daemon and Otto did their absolute best to get along… which mainly meant not speaking to one another.

Yet as to be expected, Aegon had consumed too much wine, rendering him a drunken fool. No matter Alicent’s best attempts to refuse the wine bearers from filling his cup, Aegon had managed to come by enough wine to make him confident enough to instigate a quarrel.

Jacerys was twirling you while you laughed at a joke he had made. The strong bond between the pair of you was similar to Helaena’s and Aemond’s — a closeness that Aegon despised on all accounts. But while Aegon could not torture his brother this evening, he could torture his wife…

Aegon cut through dancing couples with stumbling feet as he approached the eldest Velaryon siblings. His hand rested itself on your shoulder to announce his presence.

“May I have this dance with the lovely bride?” He had phrased it like a question, though it was more of a demand.

Before Jace could respond, Aegon had tugged you away and attempted to join in the dance of the couples among the pair of you.

“My dear niece is now my brother’s little lady wife,” Aegon chuckled, tripping you with each misstep he took in the dance, “It is improper to dance with other men on your wedding night.”

“I have only danced with family,” You attempted to defend yourself, wishing to leave his hold.

At your words, Aegon released a great chuckle that echoed in the hall, “You say that as if our family does not regularly bed each other.”

An evil smile came to Aegon's face as the thought provoked him further, “In fact, I wouldn’t put it beside Jacerys for taking your maidenhood…Did he spoil you?”

Instantly, you let go of any hold you had on your eldest uncle, disgusted by such words.

“Your accusations are not only unjust, but they are disgraceful. I have not seen my brother for years,” Your jaw clenched.

“It does not matter to me in the slightest, for if you are still pure, Aemond will take it from you tonight,” Aegon’s eye raked over your body, “If he does not satisfy you, rest assure I can…” Before another word could be uttered, Aemond was at your side, tugging your frame into his safe arms. His glare was spiteful, a sneer growing on his lips, “Brother…”

“Brother,” Aegon nodded with a smirk, before scampering off.

Aemond turned you to face him, his hands instantly moving to cup your face. His eye shifted across your face as his hands soothed the sides of your head, “Are you alright, ñuha ābrazȳrys?”

“Mirre iksis sȳrī hae iksan lēda ao” ‘All is well while I’m with you’

The gods may throw a dice/ Their minds as cold as ice/ And someone way down here/ Loses someone dear

After your wedding festivities ended, your mother and brothers returned back to Dragonstone. The Stranger had paid a visit to the Red Keep, reaping your grandsire and King. Immediately, Rhaenys had beckoned you to her chambers so that you may see his body together. However, countless guards stood outside the door, trapping you inside. An archer was also posted outside the window so that no word could escape the Red Keep.

The Queen would arrive shortly and have you escorted back to your husband’s apartments. Thus secluding you from the outside world, except for Aemond. But soon, he too would leave on dragon's back to do the bidding of Alicent and the Hand.

The bedroom door opening with a creak easily woke you. You never slept well when your husband was not sharing the bed after your wedding night. He had been gone, off at Storm’s End for the last three days, negotiating with the Lord Baratheon so that he would support Aegon’s claim to the throne.

The past week had been a tempest between the death of your grandsire, the coronation of Aegon II and thus usurping the crown from your mother, and the escape of Rhaenys from the Red Keep. Sleep would not come easily to you.

You sat up in the bed, quietly observing him preparing to join you in the bed. He stripped himself of his outerwear and changed into his night shift. As the clothes hit the floor, you noticed the great thud in which they made, signaling how soaked they were. But why would your husband rush back to the Red Keep in a storm?

Finally, he joined you in the bed, tucking himself close to you. But his back was facing you, rather than his sharp face. You did not push him, but instead began to detangle his wet hair with your fingers, being as gentle as you could, “Welcome home, ñuha valzȳrys…”

Aemond gave no response.

“I missed you dearly…”

Still, silence.

“Is everything well, ñuha jorrāelagon?”

Aemond sat up fiercely and turned to you. His eye patch had been discarded and his face was mixed with a sense of great sadness and anger.

Instead of answering your question, Aemond began to cry — softly, quietly at first, before escalating to sobs that shook him. All you could do was wrap your arms around him, and whisper kind words to him.

“Shhh…” You stroked his hair softly. It was all you could do to comfort him without knowing what made him so upset.

Once his cries began to subside, Aemond lifted his head, but could not look you in the eye, “Aegon used to talk about running away from his duty… I didn’t understand why, but I think I do now…”

“Aemond, what has happened? What has upset you so deeply?” You attempted to cup his face, but he tore himself away from you.

He continued to look anywhere else but at you. The silence began to creep in and eat away at both of you. Unease washed over you.

Aemond cleared his throat before speaking once more, “Lucerys is dead…”

“What?”

“I killed him…”

The winner takes it all/ The loser has to fall/ It's simple and it's plain / Why should I complain?

“How is Aegon?”

“It is King Aegon, you should address him properly…” Aemond glared down at you.

A small, sad smile crept onto your face at his correction, “I remember you saying that Aegon would never be a proper King.”

Aemond scoffed and rolled his eyes, but did not negate your claim. Even now, parts of your Aemond were still there — the war hadn’t taken that away yet.

“Will Aegon recover?” You asked though you knew the answer. The King would never be the same again. His cries of agony could be heard throughout the halls until he had been sedated with milk of the poppy.

“I will be serving as Prince Regent until my brother is well enough.”

You nodded, looking down at your fidgeting fingers. Taking a deep breath, you rubbed your palms over the skirt of your dress before looking back to him. Aemond was looking right back at you as if he were closely observing you. It wasn’t the first time he had done such, often intimately observing you for as long as you could remember. But it always made a warmth wash over your face.

“You are coming home with me,” Aemond spoke once more as he moved to stand closer to you, “This is not a request, but a command.”

“A command of my captor?”

“A command of your husband, the man you vowed loyalty to,” Aemond’s voice was stern, but his eyes were longing, full of affection.

But tell me, does she kiss/ Like I used to kiss you?/ Does it feel the same/ When she calls your name?

“Loyalty?” You repeated, shaking your head.

Aemond took the closed distance between you to bring a hand to cup your jaw. His thumb brushed over the soft flesh of your cheek as he admired your features.

“I’ve heard about the witch woman,” You spoke with a sigh.

“Then you understand how desperate my search for you has been…”

“Aemond…” You looked at him more intently. Would he make you truly say it? “I know about Alys…”

There was a pause in the air. Aemond understood the infliction in your tone, the hurt hidden behind your calm demeanor. He went to speak, to apologize maybe, but no words came out. Taking a deep breath, he swallowed whatever he was originally going to say.

“Do you expect me to apologize?”

“Not really,” You chuckled to yourself, “King Aegon I took two wives, so why shouldn’t you? I believe Daemon had the same logic during his whoring days. And your brother too”

“Do not compare me to them,” His words were harsh as he gripped your chin between his fingers, “You made me desperate to find you. I sought the means I deemed fit.”

“The means of sleeping with a bastard and a witch?”

“You had left me!” his voice was firm as he strained himself from committing any action to harm you, “Left me desperate, left me thinking you had been killed!”

Jaw clenched and the skirt of your dress fisted between your fingers, you snapped back at him, “So you turned to an old wives tale of sex magic?”

Aemond retracted his hand, “I killed for you. I burned down villages for you. I have violently searched for you. Are you so envious of some woman that you would be blind to how much I have suffered to have you back? To be by your side once more?”

“You are a fool,” You spat, “A fool and an adulterer. Why would you allow some minx to convince of such things? Why would my own mother have me killed? Did you ever truly consider that before you—”

“They killed Jaeherys! Our nephew, sweet Helaena’s baby boy, the boy that you played with at dinner despite my mother’s harsh looks—”

“I know! You think I didn’t weep for him!” You finally stood, allowing the emotions to now freely flow through you.

“What right do you have to weep and mourn him when Daemon had made the order? Were you with him when he commanded such?”

Aemond’s words cut into your heart deeper than expected. That he thought you just as heartless as the other tyrants in your family shattered something within you.

Somewhere deep inside/ You must know I miss you/ But what can I say?/ Rules must be obeyed…

“You don’t believe that…”

Aemond stood silent… His brooding demeanor began to shift

A shaky breath escaped your lips as tears began to billow over. What caused the tears? His words… his presence…

At your tears, Aemond raised a hand to cup your cheek. His thumb delicately began to wipe away the fallen tears. Even in his anger, Aemond hated to see you cry, especially if the tears were caused by him.

When you didn’t reject such actions, Aemond softly pulled you into his arms. Both his hand now rested under your jaw, causing your gaze to remain fixated on his face, looking deep into his violet eye. Your own hands rested on the dark metal of his breastplate, tracing over the embedded dragon sigil.

“I didn’t want to leave you…” you finally confided in him, “But I could no longer tolerate the looks of the Queen and the Lord Hand, the whispers of the nobles, or the guards constantly at my side… I was a hostage in the place I had grown into a woman.”

Aemond sighed, “Alicent was concerned that you would be a spy for your mother…”

“I had not seen my mother for six years until our wedding day and once she returned to Dragonstone, I did not see her until Daemon fetched me. I could never even read a letter from my mother unless the Queen was at my side, and she would even read them before I had the chance to break the seal myself — so how could I? How could I have ever been a threat?”

“These were necessary precautions. Are you still such a child that you can not understand this?”

“Were you so blinded by loyalty that you slaughtered my brother who was hardly yet a man grown?” You questioned while pushing out of his hold, “Are you so clouded by the judgment of your mother that you forced your wife to run away?”

I don't wanna talk/ If it makes you feel sad/ And I understand/ You've come to shake my hand

“So now you admit to not only fleeing but running away…”

“Aemond, you have to understand that I wasn’t running from you—”

Aemond chuckled in disbelief at the notion, “Did you see the opportunity to escape your one-eyed husband and take it? Run away from the Kinslayer?”

Your jaw clenched at the harsh words that even he knew were untrue, “I was a hostage under a usurper! Despite all my tears and promises that I was a faithful wife, you still allowed me to be tormented and disgraced!”

“I was protecting you!” Aemond grabbed your wrist with quick ferocity. You had only seen such aggression from him in training yards or battlefields.

With eyes wide, you looked from his violet eye to the pale hand squeezing around your wrist. His eye trailed to follow your own gaze. When the realization washed over him, Aemond was just as quick to let go, even stepping away from you. Clearly, he was disgusted by his thoughtless action.

I apologize/ If it makes you feel bad/ Seeing me so tense/ No self-confidence

Gingerly, you brushed your fingers over your wrist. Though it was sore, you were sure that it would not bruise. In all your time with Aemond, he had never once acted so violently toward you. Your heart felt paralyzed by all that had transpired just today.

“My love,” Aemond finally broke the silence, “Please…”

In an instant, your mind thought back to many, many moons ago. Days of your adolescence that were now long past resurfaced with a small glimpse from Aemond. How he looked at youon your name day when you became a young woman of five and ten… The elegant dress you wore as he asked for a dance and the way it flowed when he would twirl you. Or the look in his eye as both of you sliced open each other’s lip to mix blood in custom with the Targaryen traditions of old Valyria. Or how he looked to you now…

His gaze caught your eyes as he stood far less confident than mere moments ago. His demeanor had rapidly changed — the Aemond of the battlefield softly replaced by your Aemond.

“Forgive me, I— this day…” Aemond sighed in defeat, tears threatening to spill, “Please come home with me…”

Following his words, Aemond stretched out his hand to you - the illusion of choice. It looked like he was giving you the option to remain at Rook’s Rest, but you knew that choice did not truly exist. Either way, you would be leaving with Aemond, willingly or not.

You released the breath you had been holding as you approached him. Gently, you rested your palm atop his own…

“You must know that Rhaenyra shall send Daemon to fetch me once more…” You swallowed, concerned for your family, relieved to be with your husband once more.

“Hmm…” He lift a brow as he began to escort you out of the tower, “I’m counting on it… but no one shall take you from me ever again…”

But you see/ The winner takes it all…

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charliedawn · 1 year

Note

Can u do headcanons for the cullen clan with there s/o whose a flilrt can this be for femake reader please

You *lean towards Carlisle as he is taking care of work* : "Hey, can I get your number, angel ?"

Carlisle : "...Y/N. We've been married for the past 100 years."

You : "...So ?"

Carlisle *sighs* : "You already have my phone number in your phone."

Carlisle would pretend to not understand at first, but would secretly find it endearing.

He fell in love with you for your fearlessness and honesty.

He would try his best to reciprocate your flirting, but it would mostly end up with him acting all reasonable and you, flirting your way through life.

A combination none could have seen coming, but you're both glad to have each other.

You *dreamily* : "I bet I could take you."

Jasper *smirks* : "Well, what are you waiting for ?"

You *blush* : "Right now ? I mean...With all your family around and...?" *you notice his confused face and suddenly realize* "Wait. Ooooh...You meant in a fight ? Yeah. No. You would definitely win that one."

Jasper *frowns in confusion* : "...Y/N. What did you exactly mean by 'I could take him' ?"

You : "..." *walk away using super speed*

Jasper *runs after you* : "Y/N ! Do not dare walk away from me. What did you mean by that ? Y/N !"

The wonderful thing about Jasper is that he can be so clueless at times, even if he is smarter than most people.

He knows flirting and would understand sometimes, but would still have problems figuring out the meaning.

Rosalie would pretend to be annoyed at first, but would slowly warm up to you.

She would then start playing along and let you flirt with her, only to try to outflirt you. Literally.

You *wrap your arms around her neck from behind and smile* : "How is the most gorgeous creature in all the world doing today ?"

Rosalie *smiles* : "I don't know..How are you today, my darling ?"

You *stunned for a second and pretend not to be sobbing tears of joy. on her shoulder afterwards* : "I'm...fine."

Rosalie can be pretty smooth too when she wants to.

However, be careful if she sees you flirt with someone else..

Rosalie was cheated on once, and we all know what happened to her last 'betrothed'.

You and Bella on a date :

Bella *smiles at the majestic view before you* : "Thanks for bringing me here. It's beautiful.*

You *suggestive wiggling of eyebrows* : "You know what would make this all better ?"

Bella *oblivious* : "No. What ?"

You : "Your lips on mine." *wink*

Bella *shakes her head with a small smile of disbelief* : "I should have known." *still takes you by surprise by kissing you*

Bella likes that you are ongoing and are not afraid to speak your mind.

She would pretend she doesn't, but you would make things more interesting.

And it would end up with her acting more confident too.

Alice can see the future, she sometimes knows when you're going to flirt with her and lets it happen, or even flirts first sometimes.

You *smile* : "Do my eyes deceive me ? Or did a literal goddess just grace me with her presence ?"

Alice *smiles back knowingly* : "My little flower. I've seen my future, and it was perfect."

You *ark a quizzical eyebrow at her* : "Really ? What was so perfect about it ?"

Alice *looks you right in the eyes and grins* : "It was you. You are perfect."

....That was smooth.

Alice would like your flirty personality from the start and would not hesitate before flirting back.

She would also not be very jealous, she would understand if your personality was like this.

What she wouldn't allow however is you actually falling in love with someone else. Your heart is for her and her alone to enjoy.

Emmett *reading the newspaper*

You *entering with a new dress you had bought especially for him/did not notice Carlisle seating next to him* : "~Hey Emmett. What do you think ? On or *notices Carlisle* offfffffff....? Fuck."

Emmett *tries not to burst out laughing* : "...I mean, I love it. Oh, sorry..You wanted Carlisle's opinion ? *turns towards Carlisle with a sly smile* : What do you think, dad ? On or off ? I can't decide.."

You *run upstairs*

Carlisle *gives his son a disapproving glare* : "...Emmett. Go apologize to her right this instant."

Emmett *chuckles knowingly* : "Wait a minute..Here comes the good part."

You : "EMMETT CULLEN ! GET YOUR BUTT UPSTAIRS OR YOU WON'T SEE ME OUT OF THAT DAMN DRESS !"

Emmett *laughs* : "Yes, ma'am." *winks at Carlisle* "I wouldn't tell you to get out but..."

Carlisle understood and was out in a flash.

Emmett likes that you are not afraid of being assertive in the relationship. He is usually the one who flirts and jokes around, so he likes having someone else doing his job.

He would get used to it pretty quickly.

You : "Hey, handsome. Did anyone ever tell you that you glow ? You're like a rainbow after a rainy day.."

Edward *smiles* : "And you are like lightning."

You : "Really ? Why ?"

Him : "You are a light in the dark.."

You : "Aww.."

Him : "And loud."

There was absolutely no sexual innuendo behind that last part, and it made it even funnier for you when you answered with a devilish smile.

"~Only for you, darling.."

Edward's jaw almost hit the floor.

He was born in an era where courtesy and chivalry were the only kinds of 'flirting'.

With time, he learned to adapt and even became a rather big fan of many human things, but he still has trouble understanding standard modern pick-up lines.

But, once he does, he will be smug about it. I just know it.

Edward *magical wave of wonderfully voluptuous and well-kept hair* : "You make my heart beat."

You : "...You don't technically have a heart."

Edward *smiles* : "Exactly. You gave me one. And it beats whenever you are around."

You *laugh whole-heartedly* : "...That was so cheesy and sweet. You almost gave me a heart attack. But, I'll take it."

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #twilight #carlisle cullen x reader #bella swan x reader #emmett cullen x reader #jasper cullen x reader #alice cullen x reader #edward cullen x reader

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yaoyaobae · 1 year

Text

Hello everyone! Thank you so much for following me, its my first time sharing about my twst ocs so I’ll give it a shot ✊

Warning: Hallucinations 🙇‍♀️

Alison Wondre

School: Royal Sword Academy

Favourite food: Cookies

Pastime: Reading children’s books, Daydreaming

Family: Mother, Father, Older sister

Role: Head of Alice/Wonderland dorm

Alison is a second year student at RSA and dorm head. Unlike Riddle who upholds rules, Alison is the polar opposite of him in every way.

Alison adopts a carefree and playful attitude, he enjoys teasing uptight people until they blow (like Riddle).

He tends to mention strange things like how he saw some singing flowers the other day or his craving to take a bite out of a bread-and-butter-fly. From the way he dresses to his wild, childish imagination its no surprise that many students believe he’s gone mad. But it is agreeably fitting for someone who is head of the Alice/Wonderland dorm.

Backstory:

Alison has an older sister whom he adores greatly and spends most of his time with. When he was a young boy, he didn’t listen to his sister’s heeding to not stray off from the path and ended up falling into a deep hole in a forest. He slowly started hallucinating monsters and cried himself to sleep, wishing he had listened to his sister. Thankfully, the authorities found him a few days later and he was sent to a hospital.

However, it was clear that Alison became an entirely different person after the incident. He began telling his sister stories about funny creatures he had met during his “adventure” which was rather worrying to her. While Alison was in the hospital for a few months,he picked up several children’s picture books which he still brings around with him in school till this day. As he grew older his imagination became wilder as he forgets the fine line between reality and his “wonderland”. He takes afternoon naps to “meet his friends”. Its a given rule to never wake him up.

Of course despite his eccentric character, Alison is still a caring and reliable leader when he needs to be(just that he conveys it in his own ways). He will not hesitate to listen to a fellow dorm mate’s worries and give vague advice, hoping they can figure out the riddle. He encourages them to “stay curiouser and curiouser” as life becomes a little more colourful that way when you experience new things. When it comes to thinking out of the box, no one can beat Alison to it.

Relationships

Riddle

Alison finds joy in teasing serious individuals, namely Riddle, until they throw a tantrum. He doesn’t mind getting the magic collar so as long as he can poke fun at the red haired queen. In serious situation, Alison would cooperate with Riddle and provide creative solutions.

If both of them share a similarity, it would be the fear of being held back and stuck in a dark place alone. Like Riddle who grew up having to follow his mother’s rules and forbidden to see his friends, Alison can somewhat share the same pain as he is still afraid of not waking up and/or seeing his sister again because of his ignorance in the past.

Chenya

Alison is generally carefree around others, but when it comes to this cunning cheshire cat he will not waste a single second to curse him. Many students find it strange how two eccentrics from the same dorm can never get along. Alison finds Chenya a nuisance who disrupts his afternoon naps, often pestering him. In addition, Chenya always gives Alison close-to-useless advice even when the latter didn’t ask for any. Guess its like a taste of his own medicine 😂

While the two do not get along, they are always seen together in school bickering nonsense. Sometimes Chenya would purposely wake Alison up from his nap to share about the strawberry tart he stole from his two childhood friends, the sleepy blonde would just doze off back to dreamland while nodding his head.

End

Well, I think that is all I can share about Alison! I hope you will like him too, thank you to those who have loved him since the beginning!! Talking about my children is fun ☺️

Until next time!

#twisted wonderland #twisted oc #twst oc #Alison Wondre #yaoyao_twstoc

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cambion-companion · 1 year

Note

Saw the piggyback ask and I remembered this scene in fifty shades where Christian is carrying Ana over his shoulder and they pass one of the house employees on the way to the 'playroom'...

And now I'm thinking of Aemond doing that with his wife - not because she's drunk, she was extra bratty (on purpose) so he just slung her over his shoulder and now he's taking her to their chambers to teach her a little lesson🤭

Alicent and Criston Cole appear from around the corner just in time to catch a glimpse of Aemond entering your chambers with you over his shoulder and there's this brief moment where you make eye contact with your mother-in-law who knows full well her son is going to rail you in about two minutes...

Gods be good🤣

hahaha I absolutely adore both of these ideas guys!

Prepare for another drabble!

“You looked for Aegon where?” You closed the book you had been reading, placing it upon your knee, looking up at Aemond’s disheveled appearance.

“The brothel, The Blooming Rose, as it were.” Aemond removed his cloak, hanging it by the oaken door before turning back to where you sat. “He took me there when I was thirteen.” He hesitated. “The…madam recognized me.”

The discomfort in your husband’s voice caused you to rise to your feet, the forgotten book tumbling to the ground. “Was she indeed?”

Aemond’s violet eye looked everywhere but into your face. “She seemed pleased to see me.”

His hands clenched at his sides, you reached forward but he shied away from your touch, turning away, his posture rigid.

“I’ll be back.” You said, striding with purpose to the door, yanking it open and making your way down the corridor.

Your blood was boiling, the expression on Aemond’s face had caused your heart to clench.

“Y/N, wait!” Aemond caught your elbow, spinning you to face him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to have some words with this Madam of the Blooming Rose.” You pried yourself free of his grip, walking away from him once more.

“No, you’re not.” Aemond touched your waist as he kept pace with you, watching your fury unfold with something akin to awe. “You will not put yourself willfully in harm’s way.”

“I am harm and she is in my way.” With each step, you became angrier, the image of your husband’s fear fresh in your mind’s eye.

“Wife.” Aemond stopped you once again, his fingers locking securely around your wrist. “Charging into a brothel with the intent to cause chaos is not something I will allow you to do.”

“Allow me?” You seethed, trying to yank your hand away from his iron grasp. “Just try and stop me!”

You freed yourself, only for Aemond to grab you roughly around your waist, lifting you up and over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

You hit his back with your hands. “Let me down you ruffian!”

“I’m the ruffian?” Aemond chuckled and your attempts to get down, his hands probing mischievously against your skirts. “You’re the aspiring assassin, storming off to do gods know what with no plan or backup. Now stay still.”

You did not obey, squirming atop Aemond’s shoulder, causing him to grunt and almost lose his footing more than once as he carried you back down the empty hallway. He smacked your backside sharply after one particularly strong bout of flailing.

You gasped at the impact, stilling momentarily in your shock. “Did you just-?”

“Yes, and I will do it again if you don’t stop.”

“How dare you?”

“That’s right, direct your anger towards me instead. The better to keep you safe.”

You ceased your wiggling, hanging loosely over Aemond’s shoulder, your arms dangling down his back. With a smirk you raised a hand, bringing it down swiftly against Aemond’s backside in retribution. He started, almost dropping you. “You are a feral wildcat, Y/N!”

“What does that make you?”

“Someone who is going to fuck you thoroughly when we get back to our chambers.”

You gripped the waist of Aemond’s tunic, his long hair tickling your nose as it swayed with his movements. His words quite distracted you, sending a pool of molten need flooding your abdomen.

“No witty retort?” You could hear the smirk in Aemond’s low voice as he shifted you more securely into his arms.

“Give me a moment.” You growled. “I’m recovering.”

He laughed, a lovely genuine sound.

The two of you had almost made it undetected to your rooms, when the door at the far end of the hallway opened. Alicent, Cole and Otto strode through it, noticing you almost immediately. You lowered your head, wishing to disappear as Aemond passed them. Otto and Cole diligently strode forward, their backs to you, but Alicent turned, following her son’s progress with raised eyebrows. She made eye contact with you briefly, the flicker of a smile passing over her lips, before looking up to the back of her son’s head. “Don’t forget the welcome dinner we have for the Redwyne’s tonight, Aemond.”

“We won’t, mother.”

Aemond rounded the corner and into the privacy of your spacious warm chambers, tossing you onto the mattress of the large bed where you bounced several times before he crawled on top of you. He traced the curves of your face, his fingers trailing a path down along the contours of your neck. His expression close to reverence as he gazed down at you, a curtain of silver hair framing your face. His exploratory hand ran the length of your body, curling under your skirts and caressing your trembling thighs. He nibbled a kiss to your parted lips. “Spread your legs for me.”

#aemond x reader #aemond imagine #aemond drabble #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond smut #aemond angst #aemond fluff #prince aemond x reader #aemond stannies #pro aemond targaryen #aemond fanfic #aemond fic #aemond x reader smut #prince aemond #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen drabble

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maidragoste · 10 months

Text

The Strong Twins

Harwin Strong x Velaryon!Reader (unrequited love), Alicent Hightower x Velaryon!Reader, Larys Strong x Velaryon!Reader

Part 4 of this

Part 5

Serie Masterlist

Sorry for taking so long to update I was busy with the university 😭

I hope the wait was worth it and that you like this new chapter🥰🥰💖💖

comments, reblogs, likes are always greatly appreciated. I will always thank you for supporting this series 🥰💖 because I really did not expect so many people to like it

My inbox is open so I'm always willing to read your headcanons, opinions and answer your questions. I seriously love reading your headcanons and thoughts, it makes me happy 🥰💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

Despite your coldness and the distance between you two, Harwin still cared about you. That's why when the servants woke him up in the middle of the night to tell him that you went into labor, he got nervous. You didn't let him be by your side while you gave birth, the only people you allowed to enter your chambers, besides the midwives, were your mother, your sister, and the queen. Rhaenyra also wanted to accompany you but the queen did not hesitate to close the door in her face.

Harwin wasn't the only one awake hoping that you'd finish the delivery and everything would turn out okay. Accompanying him in his chambers were his father, his brother, Corlys, Laenor, Daemon, and Rhaenyra. Your father had brought wine so everyone was drinking trying to ignore their worries about things that could go wrong.

The truth is Harwin felt uncomfortable by the presence of Daemon and Rhaenyra. He didn't understand why the man was there with them, yes Daemon was married to Laena but the prince could easily have continued sleeping. He had no obligation to be awake waiting to hear from you and the baby… Unless he was the father of your child and your new lover. Harwin shook his head and stopped drinking, the drink and his nerves were making him think of stupid things. He knew that you loved your sister and would never do anything to hurt her.

Normally Rhaenyra's presence always made him feel warm and gave him some kind of peace of mind but right now he wanted her away. At first, the atmosphere in his chambers was "calm" but that calm disappeared when a furious and injured Rhaenyra entered after you yelled at her that you didn't want her near her and that she will let you give birth in peace. The room was now tense. Corlys Velaryon was looking at them both angrily. Even his own father was glaring at them furiously. He knew that they expected him to drive the princess away but he couldn't do it.

The only person who didn't seem furious with him was his brother. Harwin didn't expect Larys to be next to him and appreciated it, he was sure he would continue sleeping but he appeared next to his father and sat next to him. He didn't say a word of comfort or try to distract him with a conversation, Larys had never been that kind of person but with his presence, he was already giving him silent support. Larys even didn't make fun of him when he spent the first hour pacing all over the room.

Your screams were heard again, and Larys was tempted to pour himself another glass of wine, but he didn't. He had to be sober when he met his son. He would start as a bad father if he was drunk when he first saw the baby. Besides he knew that if he turned up drunk you would be furious and kick his ass or you could ignore him for weeks.

Larys is not a fearful or nervous person. He couldn't remember when was the last time he had felt fear, nervousness, or anxiety. He knew it was foolish to feel that, you are a strong woman, you can fly on a dragon and he is sure that you are capable of defeating any man from the city guard, the birthing bed would not kill you. Besides, your mother took it upon herself to bring the best midwives to King's Landing to help you in the delivery and Alicent was by your side, she would never allow anything to go wrong.

He knew you would be fine but still, a small part of him was anxious. He hated feeling like this. He wanted to go to the black cells and torture someone until that horrible feeling disappeared. He wanted to stop hearing your screams and listen to the prisoners' screams as he pulled their teeth out. But then again, you'd be mad at him for doing other things instead of going to meet his kid.

It felt unreal. Larys never imagined that he would have a child. No father wanted to marry his daughter to a cripple and on top of that with a second son who was not going to inherit anything, so he never thought that he would marry and have children. And Larys was fine with it because kids in general were fucking annoying. But then Harwin neglected you and he managed to captivate you so you gave him a chance. It was not in his plans that you would end up pregnant. But it wasn't a problem, you looked happy even though he noticed that you were disappointed by his lack of reaction when you gave him the news. He wouldn't say specifically that he was happy but he could say that he was proud, proud that he had done what Harwin couldn't, and now the Strong line would run through his blood. Proud to see how happy you were as the child grew in your womb. He couldn't deny that he liked to see how happy you looked while you and Alicent sewed blankets for the baby. He also liked hearing how excited you were as you talked about the names you had in mind for the child. He would never forget the smile on your face when you took his and Alicent's hands and made them feel like kicking the baby for the first time. You looked happier than he had seen you in years. He was the one who made you happy, not Harwin.

The door was flung open and Laena appeared with a big smile. "Everything went well."

Of course, Harwin was the first to run for your chambers. Soon Corlys, Laenor, and Rhaenyra followed. They were looking forward to seeing you. They needed to see for themselves that you were okay.

Larys remained seated. Although he wanted to go see you, he knew he had to wait a while. It would be striking that he was so eager to meet his nephew.

"What are you waiting for? She wants us all there" Laena said walking in seeing that Daemon, Lyonel, and Larys didn't seem willing to leave the room. Larys was sure Laena gave him the longest look when she said "everyone" and as if she couldn't be more obvious she moved to his side "Come on, go meet your nephews" she commanded as she squeezed hard his shoulder. Perhaps from the outside, it looked like an affectionate gesture but he could feel how your sister was digging her fingers into him.

Laena had only found out about the romance between the two of you because your sister didn't know what privacy was and entered your chambers without knocking on the door. Even Alicent's children knew to knock on the door and get the other person's permission before entering a room that didn't belong to them.

After you two get dressed again, Larys had to endure some questioning from Laena. He thought he had had enough of her when "the Queen Who Never Was" forced him to join her at her tea time to talk about his relationship with you. He preferred the cold stare of a Rhaenys Targaryen to Laena's endless questions.

"I'm sure you are excited to meet your grandchildren too, Lord Strong," Laena added to avoid drawing Daemon's attention. She knew that you would never forgive her if she let your secret slip. She loved Daemon but you and Laenor came first.

“Grandchildren?” Lyonel repeated, shocked to have more than one grandchild.

"Twins," Laena replied, still smiling.

That was enough for both Larys and his father to get up and head to your chambers. On another occasion, Lyonel would have lightened his step considering the limp of his son but this time he was excited. Twins were not common in the Strong family.

Larys felt even more proud of you two but also a little anxious. He was just getting used to the idea of a single baby. Now there would be two of them and he had to work to make them both like him. What if they are identical twins and he couldn't tell them apart? Would you tell him that he is a bad father because of that? What if Harwin manages to distinguish them? Would that make you forgive his brother? He put those stupid thoughts aside the moment he saw Rhaenyra grumbling outside your door. Evidently, again they had not let her in.

“Princess, you should go rest. Lady Strong must be too tired to receive any more visitors. She will surely receive you tomorrow. We don't want to overwhelm the mother right now, right?" he said before opening the door and going inside, ignoring the incredulous look that the king's eldest daughter gave him for daring to throw her out.

The moment you saw Larys walk in, your face lit up. You had wanted him to be with you during the birth but it would clearly have been conspicuous in court for him to be at your side instead of Harwin. At least you could have Alicent next to you, she took it upon herself to wipe the sweat from your forehead and neck, clearly, that was a maiden's job, not a queen's, but no one said anything, and she let you take her hand without any complaints even though you were sure it would have marks from your nails. The presence of your lover, your mother, and your sister made the situation not so terrible. Without them, you probably would have been even more terrified.

The midwives had already left so now you could talk freely, with just the family.

"Come, my lord, meet your children," you said surprising everyone. You knew that Larys and your mother will argue with you for revealing the true paternity of your children, but you didn't care. You wanted Harwin and Lyonel to know that it would be Larys' blood that would carry on the Strong legacy. You were sure that both kept the secret. The Strongs needed an heir and you gave them two. Besides, despite Harwin's infidelity, he had some honor and you knew he would never do anything to hurt a child.

Larys wanted to be mad at you. You just put the children and yourself in danger. His father could order you and Harwin to go to Harrenhal to prevent you from continuing your relationship. Harwin might eventually tell the princess the truth. What you just did was stupid. Like it was stupid that he couldn't stop thinking about how beautiful you looked while you were carrying his son. He should be thinking about how to prevent his father from pushing you away or Harwin from opening his mouth but he could only think about you and the children. He loves you but sometimes he hated how stupid and weak you make him.

Harwin felt as if someone had repeatedly stabbed him in the chest at your words, confirming what he already knew. Larys was the father of your twins. He knew it the moment he saw Aethan's blue eye and the love in your eyes when his brother appeared. You used to look at him that way.

Now he understood why Larys had accompanied him all these hours, his brother was also worried about you and now he was the owner of your heart and with whom you share your bed. Harwin wished he could fool himself into thinking you were only doing this for revenge but he could see the love you had for Larys as you patiently explained how to properly restrain the children. Seeing them as a happy family caused pain in his heart. He always wished his brother happiness but he never imagined that it would be at his own expense. He couldn't be happy for Larys when those children were supposed to be his. You are his wife. He should be the one by your side as you proudly present Alyn to Lyonel as the future Lord of Harrenhal, not Larys.

Lyonel's eldest son knew that the gods were making him live this nightmare because he deserved it after all the pain and humiliation his romance with Rhaenyra caused you. But it seemed cruel to him that the gods had made the children look like he always dreamed his children would look like with you. He always imagined that they would have your beautiful silver hair and your mouth but they would have his nose and his eyes. The twins had slightly lighter skin than yours but there was no doubt that your blood had been stronger because they both have little silver locks, your mouth, and your beautiful brown eyes. Except Aethan also has an eye the same color as Larys'. That eye would always be a reminder to Harwin of who the father of your children really was.

Daemon entered your chambers together with your sister, finding Lyonel and Corlys holding their grandchildren without having any idea that he missed the Strong children's paternity reveal. Thankfully Laena had managed to distract him long enough for you and Larys to have a moment with your children.

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netherfeildren · 5 months

Text

With Mercy for the Disturbed

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: He's a father and then he isn't, and then he's in the perfect place with the perfect girl, and he's done so many bad things that terrify the both of them. And then, finally, he's saved and there are dancing bears and doors newly opened, and everyone's a little mad at the end of it all.

-OR-

the Hannibal/Alice in Wonderland AU wherein Joel loses his mind

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: AU; Extremely Dubious Consent; Or Non Con; You decide but vibes are definitely off; Dark Fic; Rough Sex; Face fucking; Oral Sex (f!receiving); Bondage; Unreliable Narrator; Memory loss; Blasphemy; Discussions of religious disdain; Discussions of morality; References to suicide; Beware of the old man who’s crazy and lets all his intrusive thoughts win; Older man/Younger woman; Creampie; Light breeding kink; Like very light for the likes of me promise; Possessive Behavior; Kidnapping; Joel POV

A/N: Hello and hallelujah, I’m so happy to be posting this!! For a minute after I finished Pink I felt like it would be impossible for me to write anything else ever again, and felt so weird and without anything left to say. I struggled so much just getting these words down, and it was supposed to be something very different initially compared to what it turned out to be, but I think I quite like the final product. I hope you do too.

And one million kisses and thank yous and all the praise in the world to @frannyzooey for giving this a little looksy over before posting. You’re the greatest and the bestest, Kelli, thank you so so much :)

Please heed the tags carefully and err on the side of caution!!! The goings on in this are very strange and this is probably the darkest thing I’ve written to date.

Word Count: 8.8K

Read on AO3

He can’t remember her name anymore, but he remembers the number. It’s been seven hundred and thirty eight days since his daughter died.

Sometimes, he’s not sure if he even remembers his own name. He thinks it’s Joel, and the sound of it brings him comfort in a way, when it’s especially dark and confusing in his mind, and so he tells himself over and over again that that’s what it is. Joel. Joel. Joel. I am Joel. That that’s what it’s always been. That that’s the name she knew him as.

Sometimes you call him that too.

He used to be a father, and then one day, so suddenly he can’t recall how it even happened, he lost everything. Like dominos falling over in his mind – the girl, and then his memories and then the man with the face like his. He plays dominos all the time now.

In his spot in the sun in the big blue room, wearing his whites and his soft socks and taking the pills they force down his throat. He plays dominos, and he does his exercises, and he thinks of that daughter whose name he can’t remember. He says his own name over and over and over again so many times until it’s not even a sound anymore, only a buzz or a hum or a scream.

His beard is thick and his hair is long, and he does not recognize his own face in the mirror. All he sees are ghost green eyes and dark hair and a fathomless sort of failure. A father, no longer a father. He goes for walks in the garden, he eats the food they give him even when he doesn’t really want to, even when it tastes like ash or greater madness than the one he’s already swallowed. And he waits for you. All the time he waits for you to come to him, he watches the big doors that go out into the world he’s too frightened and broken to step foot in now, draws his fingertip over the gristle of scar tissue at his temple mended over invisible fracture, and he waits and waits, and he says his name and he thinks of that nameless daughter and he waits and he thinks: the morning after I killed myself, I woke up in the perfect place with the perfect white walls and now all I do is wait.

He sits in his chair in the corner now and counts the seconds for you to come for him. Always at this time, always when the sun is at that spot in the sky. When it rains, and he can't tell where he is in the world, and the clouds are swollen purple gray verging on melancholy and anger, he feels something like despairing. Something like the sort of insane they whisper he is behind his back now.

He watches the puddles filled with dark mercury grow and grow like the ocean rising out of concrete, and the orange tree that drips and weeps and sags and he thinks he feels very much that way inside too. Sometimes, when the sun shines and there are no clouds and he doesn’t feel so terribly downtrodden, or maybe worse than usual, each orange blossom opens like a hand reaching out for him. Begging him not to do it, not to think of it, not to go back to that bad place. Focus only on me, she says. Focus only on the blue walls and the perfect room and the place where the sun sits in the sky, she’s on her way, she’s almost here.

The first time they’d told him he was ill – or dead – the first morning in the perfect room, he’d been angry, affronted or offended, and he’d howled and fought and said I’m not fucking crazy, it’s only that my daughter is dead. But as much as he’d fought or kicked or screamed, wept until he was brittle and dry as a whale bone, they’d not believed him. And so, he’d come to appreciate the peace of the perfection surrounding him, the perfection of a lie, or the perfection that comes to visit him in the shape of a woman, soft and round in all the right places and pretty. Fuckable. He tries not to think of it. He swears he does. But there’s little else to consider in the perfect place. So really, he thinks of little else.

You’re almost here, he knows it’s almost time.

A few more moments of the sun in the place where it is until it’s in the place where it should be, and then you’ll be here, and he looks down at the stone in his palm, held for so long it’s turned dark with his sweat now. I shouldn’t have, but I brought you something, placed it in his hand, done that thing with your eyes and your mouth that told him secrets he wasn’t sure you were even aware you were telling him.

He knows that it’s November now because you’d said it was, and he doesn’t know why, but when you’d told him, he’d wept and wept and wept. Become inconsolable which had sent you to worrying, put the different sort of look on your face, in your eyes, the one that vibrates, that screams instead of whispers. And he’s positive you don’t know you show him that one, but he sees it anyways, you’ve got a shit poker face. And he’d told you between sobs and chokes, it’s November and it’s terrible and I can’t explain why except to say that it’s as though the earth has suddenly realized that she’s grown old and cold and there’s nothin’ she can do to prevent it except weep, and I feel very much like this in my own heart too. And when he looks back up at the sun, it’s finally where it’s supposed to be, and when he looks back at the double doors that lead away to all his fears and all the bad, there you are. You walk towards him slow and measured, and you’re perfect, perfect, perfect. Precious, impeccable, absolutely exceptional in every way. He wants very much to ruin all that pure magnificence.

He knows that he did something very bad after his daughter, after they took her, lots of very bad things to lots of very bad people. He knows this, he remembers this vividly, enjoys the memory of it, savors it like something sitting sweet and light on his tongue.

The morning after I killed myself, I fell in love with the idea of a girl who was gone who’d come from me who is never going to be again. Who I never made enough time for when there was still time to be made.

You always wear beautiful clothes, and it makes him appreciate the blandness of his own. That you stand out, that he’s merely a blank canvas for you to inflict yourself on. Wool skirts and silk blouses and sheer pantyhose he wants to rip to ribbons with his fingers. Makes him appreciate the beauty of you, faultless, guileless. Sweet in a way he’d never witnessed before like a kitten that’s so adorable you want to squeeze and squeeze and smother until it bursts. Big eyes and a full, soft mouth and breathy voice, and then you’re right there.“Hi, Joel,” and yeah, that’s right, he does know his name, you remind him of it all the time.

“Mornin’.”

“Ready?”

“As ever.”

The room you usually sit in to talk has a big painting of a field in it, a bear in the far off center up on its hind legs, somehow, appearing as if it’s dancing away. Even the paintings are mad here, but he likes it, wants to dance away into the far off unknown like that too.

“The middle of the day’s not the best time for fishin’ usually.” Sometimes, you let him start where he wants. Silent until he chooses to break. He pulls the thought out of nowhere. “Bein’ out there’s just the excuse, I suspect, in the sun and the water.”

He listens to the scratch, scratch of your pen. You write with one of those fountain types with the sharp point, and he wonders if you’ve ever considered how easily he could turn it into a weapon. How smoothly it’d pierce the soft, satin skin of your throat he likes to fantasize about. He would never. But he does like to think about it, pretends it’s a show of your trust, wonders if the guards and higher ups know you bring something like that in here with him. Scratch, scratch, scratch, and it makes his brain itch.

“You used to fish?”

“Think so.”

“Are you remembering?”

“Nah.” The morning after I killed myself, I lost my memories – it’s only that they’d hurt everywhere I’d touched them, and so I’d had to let them go.

“No?”

You’ve got the loveliest voice, and sometimes he wishes he could tell you to stop asking so many stupid questions about him and talk about yourself. Endlessly. He chooses a new route. “What is it about empathy that people find so difficult to be generous with?”

That soft hum in your throat he loves, the one he feels soothe that itchy brain of his. “Humans can be inherently selfish. We’re born with only ourselves, we die with only ourselves, sometimes that gets in our way.”

“No… Don’t think that’s true.”

“No?” He knows you like to lead him sometimes, like a game he doesn’t want to enjoy. “You’re the one saying we’re greedy with our empathy.”

“Forgiveness too,” he adds.

The click of your tongue, “Do you think you’re forgiving?”

“Not at all.”

Scratch, scratch. Once he’d asked what it is you write about him during these talks of yours, and all you’d said was notes. It’s the only time he’s ever been angry with you, refused to talk to you for three days after that. Only because if you wouldn’t tell him things, then he wasn’t going to tell you anything either. “Then what’s the point you’re trying to make? What’s your question?” But then he’d missed the sound of your voice too much, had felt the burn of your gaze on his skin too intensely, had masturbated too many times without satisfaction to the memory of your eyes on him that he’d been forced to relent. He needed the sound of your voice in his head also to be able to come.

“Why is it so difficult?” He asks again because he has to understand. Because he needs an answer desperately.

“It’s hard to see someone as simply themselves, simply human – a sentient flaw, so to speak – when they make a mistake. And yet, as grievous or offensive as something can be, we all do it eventually. Some people have no patience for that.”

“Even though they themselves will eventually, inevitably, do it too?” He can feel himself getting upset, his heart beating too fast, a cold sweat sprouting at the back of his neck while his face flushes hot and red.

“Yes.”

“That’s bad.”

You shrug, “Perhaps.”

“Selfish.”

Again, “Perhaps.”

And then the true source of his anger, “I think I’m like that.”

You nod like you understand, and he wants to shake you and make you see that there’s no way you actually could. “Would you like not to be?” It pisses him off when your voice goes all even and patient like that.

“Yes. I hate people like that. I hate people that can’t find it in themselves to forgive – to give someone a second chance.”

“Why do you think that is?”

He can’t help himself when he vomits the words, not fully expecting them to come out so slicked in truth as they do. “Because I wish someone would give me one, even if I don’t deserve it. F– forgive me– But even then… what does it matter? What does it matter if I’m forgiven, given a second chance, absolved of all my sins? Look at where I am. Look at what I've become. I’m entirely lost to myself. You know, sometimes I can’t remember my own name if you don’t remind me of it.”

“You’re Joel. You had a daughter. Her name was Sarah.” He flinches at the sound of it, wants to bare his teeth at you like a rabid animal. “Your brother is Tommy. He calls every Friday at three o’clock to ask how you are. You’re Joel Miller.” That’s right. The morning after I killed myself, I met my brother for the first time. The real him. The him who’s afraid of me. The real Tommy, Tommy, Tommy. Sometimes the name rings familiar in his mind, again, when you remind him of it.

He shakes his head, swallows a gruff sound, tries to shutter the manic look he knows floods his eyes, reverts back to his initial thought, “False senses of moral superiority disgust me.” The sun’s shining in at an angle so that there’s a single tendril of sunlight wrapped around the slim of your crossed ankle, gripping the nylon covered limb in its light. Joel’s eyes shift jealously from that held piece of you to the shadow of far off rain he can see in the distance through the window, trying to find some measure of peace in the sight. It’ll reach here eventually, and he tries to ground himself in the inevitability. “Yes, there’s right and wrong. There’s also humanity. There’s also the right to grow and learn, and to make mistakes that, in the end, make you better. Who are you to condemn me? Is your glass house so pristine not a stain mars it? Grace, forgiveness, empathy… I find those infinitely more valuable than whatever false sense of good and bad you’ve decided makes me worthy or not,” he says, eyes cast towards the coming rain. He can feel your gaze on his face, and he does not want to acknowledge it.

“But the things you did were bad, Joel. You hurt people. You killed people.”

That makes his eyes snap back to yours for the way you say it. As if you’re sharing a bit of inconsequential news with him. The weather is about to hit, the rain is almost here. Can’t you see it, just there, in the distance? Voice so even and soft. Sometimes he calls you angel, when he knows he’s charmed you enough just to get away with it, when he’s said all the things he knows you want to hear from him and smiled all the right smiles that cost him so much. Voice like a goddamn angel, face like a goddamn angel. Everything else… like something come straight from Hell to drag him down to where he really belongs and never let him go.

He eyes you suspiciously. “The Bible says an eye for an eye. They killed my daughter so I took their eyes.” And then other parts.

“And then their lives…” And then their lives. He nods once, succinct. “You ascribe to the scripture?” You snap that little leather bound book open again, red, scratch in it once again, all your secrets about him. That itch returns, stronger than before. He bites down on it, chews it away within himself.

“What? Like I believe in it? Fuck no. Fuck religion. It isn’t real. A weak construct made for weak men in need of comfort. And– and… like what – it’s going to save my soul? I ate that a long time ago, angel. Look at where I am…” He shrugs, letting his head fall back in a circular motion, coming to rest on his shoulder. He can’t help but smile at you, he knows you hate it when he gets like this, all ornery and heretical.

You purse your lips, shake your head at him gently, and he wants to eat the lipstick from your soft mouth. “You believe in angels though… you call me–”

His smile cranks up another notch for a single beat. “Gotta believe in somethin’ that’s right in front of my eyes, don’t I? What d’ya think, that’m crazy?” And his eyes slide to the window again, smile melting off his face. “‘Sides they told me so–”

“Who told you what?” Voice slow, measured, all serious-like. He rolls his eyes, feels the stone of anger in his belly heat, spin, jump to his throat.

“They killed my daughter,” he spits like a whispered scream instead. The shadow of rain is closer. If the dancing bear were out there, it’d be lost to the deluge by now. “I should’ve done worse. I would have, had I not been thrown away in here.” He remembers that a man with a face like his left him here, but he doesn’t know who. He shakes his head, jostles the non-memory out of his ears, searches harder for the dancing bear, killed a bunch’a people, he murmurs to himself, once more again, because he likes the sound of it.

“So you’re talking about yourself. You want to be forgiven.” He doesn’t like when you tell him, when you don’t ask. It makes him feel like you know something he doesn’t, and he wants to know everything you know.

“No. I don’t know.”

“Do you feel thrown away, Joel?”

“I feel forgotten – impossible to remember,” his voice cracks at the end, eyes suddenly wet and hot.

“By who?”

“The world.” He can’t remember his childhood. He can’t remember what he was like as a child, and it makes him sad.

You’re quiet for a long time, no more scratch, scratch, scratch, no more itch. No more angel voice, and then, very soft, like you know you shouldn’t. “I remember you. I haven’t forgotten you.”

Once, a time ago because he can’t discern lengths of it anymore, it doesn't exist here in the perfect place, amidst what, he thinks, is a lot that you know you shouldn’t have allowed, you’d changed the routine up on him. Had sent for him, instead of coming for him yourself. When he’d stepped into the room where you have your talks, you’d been facing the big window, looking out at the green, the line of your shoulders and the dip of your waist and the swell of your ass in your skirt that shifts like water around your knees and the saliva pooling heavy in his mouth, it’d been too much, too much for a broken thing, and you hadn’t turned. Like the pen, like more trust, you hadn’t turned to face him even though he knew you’d heard the door snick shut behind him. He’d stepped as quiet as he could up behind you, quiet like when he was sneaking to kill, and he’d brushed a single tip of his finger up the length of one of your skinny, little ones, so much smaller and finer than his thick, brutish ones, stroked the palm of your hand. You’d made the tiniest sound, interrupted by a swallow, but he’d heard it. He’d heard the want in it. He’d not forgotten either, and he sees that sound in your eyes now, again, as you stare at him with an intention he’s not so fucking crazy that he doesn’t know you shouldn’t possess.

He smiles a little again, and you don’t return it, but it’s okay, he sees the sound of your want in your eyes anyways, and that’s infinitely more satisfying to him. “It would serve us all well to remember to try to be a little more empathetic, a little more forgiving.”

You swallow, shaken, he can tell. Shaken by that thing inside you for him he knows shouldn’t be there. You scratch a little in the book, say slowly, “It starts with you, I think, you have to forgive yourself first.”

He doesn’t acknowledge that. There are things you talk about you clearly have no understanding of. You’re young. You don’t know better. He understands. “I think… I think, I haven’t been myself lately.”

“Who have you been?”

And again, he doesn’t mean to say it, but you tell him so much you don’t mean to say either that he feels he might as well also. “Someone–” That anger again, he can’t help himself even though he desperately wants to. “Someone my daughter would be afraid of.” Full blown rage now. At you. Yes, at you. You force things from him he doesn’t want to give you, and there’s a thing within him that wants to punish you for it, take a pound of flesh in repayment. “I want someone to forgive me. I want to be forgiven. I want to experience it.” Truth is like fire, hypnotizing, seductive, once it catches, inextinguishable. He wants to hate you sometimes for forcing these things from him, for not giving him a choice, and worst of all, done so unintentionally, unknowingly. He wants to not give you a choice either.

“From who?” You ask. Silly little girl. You need to learn the art of restraint, of temperance. He should teach you.

“Our hour’s up.” He looks away, dismissing you. As if he’s the one in charge here, and not the one caged. Divested.

“No, it isn’t. It’s–”

“Our hour’s up,” head snapping back towards you, barking– “It’s time for you to go.” And something in his gaze must tell how far he’s been pushed, by you, for you jerk up and out of your chair suddenly, turning to scurry towards the door, not bothering to say goodbye, not bothering to turn back, not bothering to notice the clatter of your pen on the linoleum.

He watches you go, a single black seam runs up the back of your hose, and the sight makes him feel violent, eager for darkness and the solitude of his white box room.

He doesn’t know why, maybe the way the rain beats against the singular tiny window in his room, maybe the way it whispers at him like all the other things that whisper at him now, but he knows you’ll come before he hears the stunted jangle of keys, the sigh and click of his door, the bare pad of shoeless feet on the hard floor, you’d thought this through, your too fast, too shallow breathing.

He’s staring up at the ceiling, arms crossed behind his head, cock hard, a little chafed. He wasn’t able to make himself come tonight, sometimes it doesn’t work, sometimes he needs the imagination of your wet cunt more than just the mere memory of your voice in his mind and the remembered feel of your gaze on him, but he’s never let himself picture the full act of fucking you. Thinks it would send him to a level of unhingedness he’d find unable to restrain in your presence. He only thinks of bits and pieces of you, like a dissected doll pulled apart for his half pleasure. Never the full thing, ever.

You try and say whatever it is you want to say several times before it finally comes out, all choked and feigned regret, but you do try and put on a good show, swallowed up by nerves as you are. “I– I just– I just came to make sure you’re okay,” you whisper. You’ve never been in his room before. He’s never had you in his space like this, and it makes him leak.

“You didn’t come for that.” Voice slow, still wide eyed, looking up at the white domed ceiling, something like victory in the shape of a hymn pounding through his veins. He won’t look at you until he’s ready.

“I… I felt badly about how we left things this afternoon. I shouldn't have– I didn’t say goodbye. I didn’t end our talk the way– the way… Joel?” You stutter, trail off, voice small and unsure.

He sees you move out of the corner of his eye. One step forward, two back, pressing up against the door again. Little bunny full of regret for coming into the wolf's bed, and he moves suddenly, swift despite his age still. He has little to do here besides move his body, make sure it doesn’t grow rust. He sits up quick as a whip, swinging his legs over the edge of his too small bed, planting his feet wide and sturdy on the cold floor. He can see the tremble of your throat even from here, the pristine lines of you. Your hair and your face and your tits and the tiny little pearl buttons of your blouse like soldiers waiting to be felled on the battlefield. He’s going to rip them from you, pluck the garments keeping you hidden away from your skin, spread you out, filleted.

“That’s not what you came here for, angel.” He shakes his head slowly, and your panic ricochets higher, makes his cock harder. Your arm reaches back for the latch slowly, fumbling behind you, and he braces his legs. Your other palm outstretched, fingers trembling. He gives you another slow shake, as if that small gesture could keep him at bay. “I hear all the things you tell me. Don’t worry. I always hear.”

“Wh– what do you mean?”

“I always see the things you want me to know. I know… I know. It’s okay.”

“I don’t– I’m not sure… I shouldn’t have come.” Your hand finds the latch, angling your body to slip through as swiftly as possible, and his muscles coil tight and ready. “I just wanted– to– to make sure…” You pull the door open, move to slip away, and he lunges for you, catches the edge of the swinging door, lets you float in the lie that you’ve gotten away for a few seconds, scurrying a few paces down the dark corridor of his perfect place where he’s found his perfect girl.

The morning after I killed myself, I found an angel.

You make it as far as the bend in the hall before he’s trapping you in his grip, swinging you around so fast you bounce against the white tiled walls, cages you there, open mouth immediately at your jugular, biting down hard while his big palm completely smothers your face, forces your choked cry back down. His other arm wraps around your waist, lifting and dragging you back down the hall towards his white box and his little bed and all his fantasies, artery caught between his teeth, no more choices to be had, exactly like you leave him all the time. He whispers at you to be quiet, quiet, quiet, angels are always good, and then he’s shutting the door behind him, trapping you inside and plucking the keys from your skirt pocket, locking the two of you away together as you should’ve been from that first day.

You try and struggle in his arms, little feet kicking weakly at his shins, scratching at his sides where he has your arms trapped, but the sound of your fight is restrained, held low and gurgled in your throat, and he knows that you know that this is what you’d come for, that you’re getting exactly as you’d sought.

“Fight harder if you’d like,” he says low in your ear, throwing the keys to the far corner and wrapping both arms tight around you, pressing all the air out. Finally, fucking finally. He’s touching you, the plush heat of your breasts against his chest, the soft swell of your belly against his stomach. He’s so fucking hard he wants to rut into you like a beast. “I want you to be scared,” and it’s the foremost truth he’s ever shared with you. The heart of all his depravity. “I want you to want it so bad you’re terrified. As bad as I want it. I want you to not want it also. Want you to fight and cry and scratch and bite, and then take it anyways ‘cause I’m gonna to give it to you anyways. You always take all of my choices from me,” he adds on, voice going barely there, mumbled, pressing a tiny kiss to the tiny hammering pulse in your throat, and you let out your first soft moan. An angel singing right into his ear. Your fighting tells all sorts of lies. He hoists you higher, presses you closer, and you wriggle and squirm, grinding his erection into the soft apex of your thighs.

“Joel– stop, please– please. I– I didn’t think–” He bends his head to your breast, drags his nose over the hard peak he feels beneath the silk of your blouse, nuzzles there, enjoying the sound of your breathlessness, again that feigned shock. You’re right, you didn’t think, and it’s too late now. What did you expect would happen, coming here to his cage like this in the middle of the night? He catches the taut peak between the edge of his teeth, tugs gently, plucking your cords.

With a fist wrapped in the length of your hair he forces you to your knees at his feet, jerking your head back roughly so that your mouth falls open on a gasp giving him the opportunity to hook his fingers over the edge of your bottom teeth, stretching your jaw open wide. “Open– lemme see,” he orders. “I wanted you so bad,” dragging the pad of his thumb along the sharp edge of your jaw. “I want you so bad. All those days when you forced me to tell you things I didn’t want to tell you. I’m going to show you temperance now, angel,” he nods his head down at you condescendingly when you try and protest. I didn’t force you to do anything, “But you did. You did. You pulled things out of me I didn’t want to share. And now I have to have you. You always take all of my choices from me.” He clicks his tongue down at you, and there are tears in your eyes that go wide and something worse than frightened when he tugs the elastic waist of his soft white pants down, pulls out his angry erection and heavy balls. Your expression morphing from something worse than frightened, to something like desperate, like hungry, like his for the taking. And he’s big, he knows it. Much too big for the pretty little throat he’s about to force it down. But he’s going to be gentle, he’s going to help you, teach you.

“Joel, please–” And look at you beg, so pretty with tears in your eyes, running down your cheeks. He brings the searing brand of his erection to your cheek, presses the burning hot skin all over your face, coating himself in the wet of your tears, marking you in the thick male scent of him. And the feel of you, just like this, just this little bit – with his fingers still hooked over the edge of your teeth he turns your face so that your open mouth brushes against his length. “Taste– I know you’re hungry for it. Give it a kiss hello, little angel.”

Your eyes flash up to his face for a brief moment, almost too quick for him to catch, and then you’re pursing your mouth against him, swallowing the shudder that moves through his entire frame. A tiny kiss to the ridged underbelly of his cock, the drag of your lips against the length of him to the fat tip, and then another kiss with wet lips and enough tongue to undeniably lick up some of what’s slicking it. You want him, even if you won’t admit it, even if you cry or fight. It’s all he needs to know.

Still caught by the teeth he jerks your head back forward, opens you wider and forces his cock down your throat. You gurgle around him, whining, shrieking, false, he knows what you really want. Can feel it in the slicking of your tongue around the proof of his desire for you, he’s giving you everything he has, and he spits your name, purges it from his belly like an infection over and over again while he starts to fuck your mouth. Feels you gulp hard just at the right moment to get his leaking tip caught tight at the choking opening of your throat. He could come just like this. He could, he could. You’re all his. Fill your belly with his semen until it bulges, feed you himself until you’d never be without him. He lets his head fall back, looks up at the white dome, at the false home of the false God, tells you again, voice all cracked and broken and gone away from him, “I don’t believe in God anymore, but that’s okay. I have you to believe in now,” fucks harder, listens to your cries climb up the walls, savors the scratch and shove at his thighs when he tightens his fist in your hair to a painful degree. You always take all my choices from me, always. But he knows that if he’s to show you temperance he must exercise his own, and after a few more slick thrusts, he pulls wetly from your mouth, enjoying your whistling groan as you sag face first against his thigh. He pets your hair now gently, fingers twisting through the softness. He’d always wanted to feel it, memorize its texture, its scent. There is nothing about you that isn’t worthy of veneration, of doing the worst thing in the world just to have you, taste you, keep you.

He lets you rest for a moment, wonders at the fact that you haven’t screamed yet. You easily could, call for help, salvation, an escape. You haven’t, and it soothes him. Makes him feel disgusting in a way that doesn’t match up with how disgusting it should feel to force himself on his pretty angel; a self satisfied type of disgust. Something he should be more ashamed of than he truly is. But when you have so little, when you barely have yourself, when theft is the only means of self satisfaction, little recourse remains for creatures caged in perfect places with only bad avenues left to them.

He hauls you up by your underarms, lets his wet cock press trapped between the two of you, and he’s so close, so close, so close to what he’s needed for so long. He gathers you in his arms, cradles you gentle and with purpose. Tucks your hair behind your ears and wipes the tears and spit from your face, takes it the sparkle of your big wet eyes. So pretty. “Truly like an angel,” and chucks you beneath the chin when you shake your head at him. “You are. So pretty and so soft.” And then finally, like so many times he’d forced himself not to imagine it because he was terrified of what the fantasy would turn him into, no longer the dancing bear in the distance finding it’s escape, but a hungry one, a violent one, an animal so far beyond control all it could do was devour, he pulls you close by the tip of your chin and swallows your mouth whole. All tongue and teeth and the slick slide of your own fervor because yes, it’s there, tangling with his own mouth, pressing your own spit onto his tongue like an offering. You kiss him back.

You kiss him back.

And, “I want to make you my little butterfly,” he says, “Spread you open, pinned just for me to look at. Only me.” He whispers it into your mouth, soft and secret and true. He’d string you up if he could, split you open and peer inside, rifle through the shafts of your ribs like a lexicon that spells out the truth of who you really are. And then that sudden anger again, that furious stone spinning in his throat. His touch becomes harder, punishing, “You’re going to tell me everything about you,” he says with all that rage in his voice, spits the stone out at you. “You shouldn’t have kept secrets from me.” Fuck the little red book and the scratch, scratch, scratch. He’s going to have all your truths. He’s going to be the one taking all of your choices away from you now.

He hauls you towards his little bed, popping the pretty pearl buttons as he goes, knowing he’s going to go to his knees later to collect them like treasures for himself after this is done. He rips the blouse from your shoulders, shudders at your indignant little gasp with the sound of the tearing silk, and you’re all soft skin and fine lace and the prettiest thing he’s ever beheld with his own two eyes in this whole life.

You bring one delicate hand up to his throat, try and grip him there, push him back, but he presses into the touch, sucks at your mouth again, harder, biting, and you say onto his tongue that you shouldn’t, and please, Joel, just wait, but he won’t and he can’t and he tells you it’s useless to fight because he’s having you regardless.

“No, no– none of that. You’re going to take your fucking like a good little girl,” and something about his words or his tone or the look in his eyes must make the connection in your brian that this is happening click because you suddenly go boneless, head falling back to bear your throat for him, soft sound of concession slipping from your lips.

He goes in for the kill, he’s always been exceptional at that, after all. Teeth latched at your jugular, tongue up and across the slope of soft sugared skin, and you taste like salvation. He’s saved now, he’s sure of it. Everything he’d lost, his daughter, his mind, himself, he’s going to find it buried in your cunt. Joel is absolutely certain of it.

He divests you of your skirt, the pretty lace, leaves the nylons held up by tight elastic around your soft thighs, and then it’s all just bare skin and heat and your soft whimpers, the coolness of your hair between his fingers. He lays you out across the length of his bed, takes in the majesty of his winnings. An angel felled and caught. You lie there staring up at him, and there’s an innocence to your gaze that brings him to his knees, set down and at your mercy now. He parts your legs slowly, one small kneecap in the bowl of each palm, the softest skin he’s ever felt beneath these death roughened hands, and Joel could sob now, weep if he had the time for it. He spreads your thighs wide, palms dragging up the insides, calluses catching on the smooth nylon and watches the dip and hitch of your belly as you gasp and shiver.

“Are you scared?” He whispers right as his palms reach the uppermost part of your thighs, and you’re all softness and warm, damp skin, plush in a way that makes his mouth water and his gums ache, and then he’s finally laying eyes at the center of you, and you’re slicked in the gloss of your desire for him. Playing pretend, feigned fight and reluctance, but he’s looking right at the heart of you, and all he sees now is your truth. You shake your head no, let out a soft breath. “Look at this drippy little cunt,” and he drags his thumb over the pearl of your clit just as whisper soft as his voice is. A half screeched hitch claws up your throat, your thighs jumping at that first touch. He needs to see more, hooks a thumb at each delicate lip and spreads wide, but gently, so as not to hurt you. That’s for later. He stretches your little hole, enjoys the shy wink it gives him.

“My God… look at you,” he says with something like reverence in his voice. So slick and gorgeous. “I think this little cunt’s going to take me in very nicely.” He runs the pad of his thumb over your swollen clit again, clicks his tongue when your knees try to struggle shut. “None’a that, angel. Be good for me now.” He presses harder at your clit, runs his thumb down to your twitching opening, passes there lightly, coating himself in your leaking slick. “I wanted you so bad,” he tells you, one more moment for confessions before he starts. “I want you so bad. And you’ve always taken all my choices from me. Forced me to stay myself when that’s not who I want to be anymore.”

“You’re Joel,” you whisper, and bring your hand to circle the wrist of the hand he’s petting you with. Not pushing him away or pulling him closer, only a gentle manacle around the thick of his bone. He looks up and into your eyes as he presses his thumb slowly inside of you, hooking it over the thin edge, twists you open slow and gentle and measured, gets you ready for the thickness he’s about to split you open with.

“That isn’t who I wanted to be anymore. I wanted to forget all that, all the bad, her, I wanted to forget all of it. I tucked her name under my tongue for so long it became blood, and I wanted it like that. And you didn’t let me.”

Your thighs shift restlessly around him, and you bring one foot up to the edge of the bed, anchoring yourself there so that you can begin a gentle rocking motion of your hips, fucking yourself slowly on his thumb. Your breasts heave and sway with the motion and his balls go so tight and so searingly hot, he could come just now like this from the sight of you, suddenly green and untried like he was in his youth. He didn’t think it was going to be like this, and it’s like he’s wasting your honor, stealing it from you, but something given can’t be stolen and his plans are foiled, he’s not in control but he doesn’t really care either. He finally has you.

He bends his head, brings his mouth to your slick swollen cunt and takes the first sip. Groans so deep in his chest he’s more animal than man suddenly, sucking hard and sharp on your clit, he pulls his hand from you and laves his tongue over the entire slope of your sex, tongue dipping into the well of you. He spreads your lips again, wide, stretches your hole and fucks you with his tongue, big nose pressed to your clit, drowning in your sweet musk. Your fingers twine in the overly long curls of his hair, and he grips your thighs so hard he’s sure you’ll be left with the mark of him later which only makes him rougher, stronger in his hold. With your grip in his hair you sing for him in soft moans and whimpers and more feigned resistance with whispers of no, Joel, and please, stop while you ride his face, his entire mouth covering your cunt, eating it. More beast than man, not Joel, not a father, not a brother, not a killer, only yours. Carved in the image you’d wanted him to be. The one you’d made him with your words and your looks and your scratch, scratch, scratch. All those times you’d asked him what do you want, Joel? And he’d never had an answer for you because what was he supposed to say? You, this, freedom, your wet cunt, the far off field and the dancing bear and my daughter back, alive, my brother, face not unknown. My name, my name, I want my name back. I want myself back. To be alive. I want to be alive. You come on his tongue, first with a shudder and then with a groan, your entire body flushes hot, and it’s a concession of yourself and a door opening, the first vestiges of what the rest of his life will be.

“You’ve got the sweetest little cunt, baby. Goes so tight and wet and fluttery,” he licks up the sticky sweet of your come, runs his tongue over the wet around his mouth, feels it trickle through his beard. “Think I’ll keep you.”

Pulling his shirt up and over his head, he crawls up the length of you, slotting his hips between your damp thighs, pushing his soft pants down his legs as he goes, gathering the small of your wrists in a manacle of his fingers to pin them up above your head. He drapes himself over your body, covering you entirely with his weight and pauses for a moment, nuzzling through the curtain of your hair to get at your ear, your throat, your smell. “Are you going to fight back?” He says soft into the small shell of your ear.

“No, I don’t want to.” You turn your head further to the side, bearing more of your throat to him.

He follows your orders, runs a line of wet kisses up the delicate column, tastes the pulse of your heart and the slope of your shoulder. “Why not?”

“I don’t have it in me. I’m not a fighter, I came from a place where there was always fighting, where I always had to do battle constantly. I don’t have it in me now, anymore, ever.” You turn to face him again, lick at the line of his mouth, suck on his tongue, your hips rolling now against him, his erection slotted between the soaked lips of your cunt, swallowing him in warmth. “But also, because you were right. Because I want you. Because I did take all your choices from you.”

Your words pull a groan, a whimper from him, and he pulls his hips back, presses forward, uncoordinated and slipping against all that slick, hot skin. He lets one of your wrists go, keeps the other trapped above your head. “Fuck– grab my cock,” and he feels the heat of your fragile formed hand wrap around the thick of his cock. An ugly, brutish thing held by perfection. You squeeze gently, twist just barely, and he feels his tip rim puckered skin, hot and round and persistent, probing against you as you try and find the right angle. “I’m gonna ride this cunt – hard. And you’re going to take it just how I give it. And you’re going to beg for more and harder and you’re going to thank me.”

Yes, yes, yes. Please, Joel. Thank you, Joel.

You notch the tip of his cock at the wet mouth of your cunt, and then he’s pushing in, saving himself, finding salvation, returning or leaving himself, it doesn’t really matter anymore. He presses in, in, in all the way until he’s sitting hard and heavy and deep inside of you, and he’s sure he can almost feel your heartbeat when he bottoms out, balls pressed to the slick curve of your bottom. Your breaths scratch in whimpers against his ear, his hair fluttering in the wind of your gasps, and your free arm wraps tight around the back of his neck, your hips rolling to take more, impossible, for he’s already deep as he can be, tip to womb. But he shifts his weight, grinds against your cervix and enjoys the sound of your pained moan.

“You feel right there? Where it hurts? That’s where I fuck you full’a my baby, little angel.” And his thoughts are unhinged, his desires full of madness and future and possibility. He pulls his hips back, drops them and shifts his weight forward inside of you. “And right there?” Grinds against your most sensitive spot, “That’s where I make you cream all over my cock.” He pulls his hips back again, focuses the tip of his cock at that desperate place inside of you and with his hand gripping your bottom to the point of pain he pounds into that place over and over again. The slick wet, obscene sound of his cock fucking in and out of your drippig cunt rings in his ears, and he grits thourgh clenched teeth, “Say thank you, say thank you. Beg me for it harder.”

And you’re so good, so good, and all please, Joel. Harder, harder, more. You’re so deep, it’s so good, please, more.

He’s going to fill you up and mark you and keep you for himself, and he bends his head, wraps his mouth around the full and heavy weight of your bouncing tit as he fucks you into orgasm around his cock. Going tight, tight as a fist, so wet it drips down his balls and onto the already soaked sheet of his too small bed, and you come for him the way he’d never let himself fantasize about before. Your moans like a song in his ear, and it’s so fucking good, better than any dream, better than anything the voices in his head or the dancing bear could have ever conjured up. He shifts upwards, anchoring himself above you so that he can look down at you as he fucks down deep into your cunt, cock punching against your womb so that it hurts, so that the look on your face is folding in on itself, but good enough still so that your pussy convulses again in another forced orgasm. He wants to look at you as he fills you with his spend, turns you into something he owns after this.

“Gonna fill you up now– gonna fill you until you’re leakin’ me.” Your hands slide up the soft slope of his stomach, his chest, fingers dragging through the hair there, twisting and pulling on it, up to his face where you cup his chin gently, eye to eye and all wrapped up in your cunt he starts to come, the thick heat of his semen coating your womb while you milk him deeper, every last drop of every last part of him he has to give.

When he’s done he pulls heavy and wet from you, the sight of your swollen red cunt gaping from him, he finally pulls the slick ruined panty hose from your legs, the marks of the too tight elastic leaving brands in your soft skin, he fingers the grooves gently, clicks his tongue at the sight in reproach. The only thing leaving marks in your skin now should be him. He pulls your wrists back into his grip again, and the look on your face is almost melting in submission, soft and spent and sloppy, leaking cunt all covered in him.

He ties each delicate wrist to the iron frame of his bed, tight, he can leave marks here now, you’re all his, and returns his attention to the source of his salvation, ignoring your protests as he eats his own come from your cunt until you’re crying a little too loud to remain undiscovered, coming twice more before he gives you reprieve, but he’s the one taking all your choices now, and you have no say in what happens after this.

He eyes the forgotten keys he’d thrown to the dark corner of his white boxed room, “If you’re not good and quiet, I’ll leave you here for everyone to find, naked and fucked and leakin’ me. Pretty used cunt for the whole world to see, that what you want?”

“No, Joel,” you shake your head, all falsely innocent gaze sparkling up at him.

And he tells you how good you are because the two of you are only going to share truths with each other now, only going to share everything. “I had nothing for so long. Nothing. Not even my own body, not even my own mind. Now I have you, and I won't give you up for anythin’. You’re mine now. They all told me so.”

“Who told you?” You ask softly, but he ignores the question as he draws his clothes back upon himself.

“I find myself so hard to remember and so easy to forget, but you remember me. You said so, and now I’m going to make sure you never forget.” Joel collects the keys and the pearls brought to him for his salvation, the dancing bear is so close now, and wraps your shredded clothes back around you, unties your wrists from the bed only to re-secure them, and hoists you folded over his shoulder for the taking.

Joel lost his daughter, and then he lost his mind, but now he’s found you. And they said it would all be okay now that he’s found you.

The morning after I killed myself, I found the end of my suffering, and at the end of that suffering there was a door – behind that door, I am alive again.

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#vic fic #Joel Miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller/you #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us au #Joel miller smut #dark joel miller #dark fic #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal characters

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emilykaldwen · 2 months

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Fic Recs!

I decided to grab a few fics that I was recently introduced to as well as fics I haven't seen get a lot of traction in the space. This is just a personal list that I wanted to share!

@corporalicent's Rhaenicent Fics at AO3 - Cata is a beast when it comes to writing this ship (as well as other fandoms!) and has some really creative AUs out there: I mean come on: Nun!Rhaenyra and Novice!Alicent? We're here for that!

@lullaebies GenderSwapped!Green Kids AU Protector of the Realm on AO3 - So Helaena is now the only *son* of Viserys and Alicent, and Aegon/Aemond/Daeron were born girls. How intriguing is that! They are on a break for right now but go give that fic a look! Not to mention they write Aegon III/Jaehaera content that I just think is chef's kiss.

@dragonsoftheeast Firebender!Targaryen/No Dragons Dance AU Fire Made Flesh on AO3 - Um Hi, Helaena being the one to lose the eye? Actual good political matches. Unparralelled usage of High Valyrian and Valyrian Culture world building???? Sign me the fuck up! Dote is an amazing crafter of such a unique and fantastic canon divergence and I am constantly surprised more people aren't squealing about this amazing story that packs in so many twists and turns and is truly so thoughtful.

@theothermaidoftarth writing some Baela/Daeron and is currently working on Nettles/Cregan check out Song for Evermore on AO3 - Rare Pairs are a precious thing in any fandom and my girl is killing it with some fascinating ideas and utterly fantastic characterizations. We love IC AUs!

@gwenllian-in-the-abbey is leading the Baela/Aegon ship with her solo fic All Kings Are Beautiful on AO3, an 'Aegon was named heir' AU, as well as her other co-written work - Gwen's work reads like a historical fiction novel and that's really my favorite kind of thing. I haven't been able to read everything she's done but man, the nuance! The stakes! the ideas! She brings what I love to call an Old School A Song of Ice and Fire fic vibe to HotD space and I mean this with the highest of praise.

@selfproclaimedunicorn is writing Sins of the Father on AO3 because what if Rhea and Daemon actually had some kids but things still went sideways? - HELLO! MISA? Misa's talent for burying her fingers into every character we see and pulling out all the bits and bobs that make them tick? Is just.. I want to write this well when I grow up. The way she has seamlessly altered canon to the point where I'll see gifsets of scenes and go 'Where are Yorick and Ella?'. Also she has an Alicent x OC fic, and I would lay my life down for Aldreda Farwynd, my tall seal mommy.

@mimikoflamemaker is writing Daemon centric OC fic the False Dragon on AO3 - I haven't been able to dive into this yet but have talked fic and plotting with Justine. Their passion for the source is palpable and her creative ideas deserve to reach more people! Vaerra and Elyas are fascinating OCs with intriguing connections that you do not want to miss!

@jotterjots / @bronzefuryfic is also writing a 'What if Daemon and Rhea had a daughter' AU, Bronze Fury both on tumblr and AO3 - JJ is a real one and I always enjoy her insights. I actually had NO IDEA! that she was writing fic but from what I've read, it looks fantastic!

@acrossthesestars is writing Haunt Me, an Aemond War Bride AU that has me by the throat on AO3 - It's not a list without mentioning this amazing fic that's almost to the finish line. Alex's command of conflict and characterization where characters are allowed to be imperfect is something more of us need to dive into! We love a byronic lead in Aemond where all his edges and issues are fully acknowledged, a wily and fantastic female lead in Wylla Karstark, and just an overall amazing AU where these characters are clawing for their happy ending.

@branwendaughterofllyr is writing a 'What if Vizzy and Daemon's youngest brother lives and has a daughter' AU, A poison Tree on AO3 - I haven't been able to dig into this yet but it's just such a fascinating and original concept to make this Dance make a little more sense, and bring more high stakes. She's a long time ASOIAF writer who is passionate about the source material and here to show you what this world can be. Do go check her work out!

#house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #hotd fic #fic rec #wanted to spread the love around and put my actions to my words here

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meraxesmoon · 7 months

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yandere rhaegon pleaseeee

note: this made me feral, I unironically enjoy those rhaegon edits on tt 😭

warnings: yandere content, incest, obviously rhae and egg are siblings, but I made the reader a targtower kid as well, aemond's twin ig, affection-starved aegon, reader is devout like her mother, poly relationships, infidelity, rhaenyra is still married to daemon but idc, never will i write dom aegon, reader is presented as innocent and sweet, baby trapping

┍━━━━━━━ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗━━━━━━━┑

♡ Aegon desires love. He wants someone to love him unconditionally. Not to mention, he has some severe mommy issues. I imagine that he's always had such a weird dynamic with Rhaenyra, but he ends up desiring her affection as he grows older. Of course, she's on Dragonstone, and he's left in Kings Landing, but he also has another sister that he has his eyes on.

☆ Sweet (Name), the second youngest of Alicent's children, and Aemond's twin sister. She loves her siblings and is especially doting on Aegon considering he definitely needs a loving touch from someone who isn't one of his whores. She's a pious girl who believes that Aegon needs some help, and so she's close with him, maybe out of pity. Aemond and Alicent try to keep her out of Aegon's fewer savory hobbies, but she still loves her big brother a lot!

♡ (Name) is so sweet on him, too! She, of course, is closer with Aemond because they're twins, but she likes looking after Aegon after a particularly bad hangover of his. Her life mostly consists of going to the Sept and having tea with her mother, and reading with Aemond, so watching over Aegon is something she does regularly. Aegon completely revels in her attention, and fully takes advantage of the love (Name) has for him as her big brother.

☆ Then we have Rhaenyra, who comes to Kings Landing to settle Luke's legitimacy trial with Vaemond. She's there with her five children and her husband, but she still finds herself involved with her half-brother. He's pathetic, but some part of Rhaenyra likes that. She also adores her youngest sister despite her dislike for Aemond. She thinks (Name) is so cute! She's growing as a woman, though, and Rhaenyra takes notice of that.

♡ Along with her nights spent with Aegon, Rhaenyra starts to spend more time with her younger sister as well. She's just so sweet! Rhaenyra wants both of them, she realizes, and Aegon wants the same thing, so it's a done deal after she finds out about it. However, Alicent intends to marry (Name) off to some lord and Rhaenyra won't allow it! Her sweet (Name) deserves to be cherished, not sold off to some ugly old man.

☆ Rhaenyra and Aegon are very much against their sweet sister marrying anyone, so they decide to corrupt her <3

♡ Despite Aegon not caring much about having children, Rhaenyra convinces him that they have to get (Name) pregnant, so Otto and Alicent are unable to marry her to someone outside of the Targaryen family. You know eventually Rhaenyra will have to return to Dragonstone, but maybe she'll bring Aegon and their little lover with her.

once I came across a fic where rhae and daemon screwed her daughter and ive been traumatized ever since 💀

#cw: yandere content #cw: yandere blog #cw: yandere #yandere rhaegon #yandere rhaenyra targaryen #yandere aegon ii targaryen #yandere aegon targaryen #yandere team black #yandere team green #yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere blog #yandere #kay writes #rhxegal

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 7 months

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Can you pls write vampire!frankie smut. I want him to drink reader's blood while he fucks her, but the rest is up to you 🩷

Sorry this took so long my love <3 But here it is!!

Thank you @wannab-urs for beta-ing!!

General Warnings: 18+, as is the whole of my blog, I will mark anything specific but be aware this is predominantly a smutty blog that writes porn with plot. DNI if you are a minor. By reading further you have taken the responsibility to do so with the warnings I have given.

Specific Warnings: Vampire sex, Vampire bites, Unprotected PiV (sort of), deception, vampire vibes, oral F receiving, biting, vampire bites. Let me kow if I missed anything! [Ao3]

[part two here!]

Hurt so Good - Reader x Vampire!Frankie.

You sit at your favourite booth, sitting so you face the door. Your nerves spiking every time the door opens. You play with the gaudy, expensive engagement ring on your finger as a way to distract yourself. But you can’t stop thinking about what you’re about to do. Tristan is late, as always, and you’re starting to wonder if he’s even coming at all.

You almost regret putting on the low-cut maroon dress that shows your body off in a was that is almost depraved. But the looks you’re getting from some of the other patrons give you a rush like nothing you’ve ever felt from Tristan. You play with the stem of your glass, your favourite cocktail long gone, but you can’t bring yourself to get another drink.

The door opens and your head perks up, but it’s not him. The well-built stranger is the polar opposite of Tristan, broad shoulders, dark curly hair, dressed in a flannel and jeans, a navy baseball cap tight on his head. His facial hair is patchy and starting to grey in places. You can’t help but stare as he takes a seat at the bar, you practically drool as you watch the flannel stretch across his back as he hails the bartender.

“Earth to space cadet, you there?” Tristan snaps his fingers at you as he speaks, pulling you out of your ogling and you look up to see his cocky grin plastered on his thin lips. His mousey hair gelled back, his hazel eyes cold and mocking as he waves his hand in front of your face.

“Oh hi, sorry I was just lost in thought,” You say with a shrug before realising you had nothing to apologise for, “You’re late.” You snap, remembering why you’re here.

“Sorry I got caught up at the-,” Tristan starts his usual line, and you grit your teeth, anger coursing through you at the same old excuses.

“At the office, yeah, yeah, the same old bullshit.” You snap, your tone sharper and voice louder than you’d intended. So loud in fact that the handsome stranger at the bar turns in your direction. His gaze lands on you and you make eye contact for a brief second and your heart flutters at the way he winks at you, his plush lips pulled up into a knowing smirk, making his cheek dimple deliciously.

“What the fuck babe? I provide for you and this is the thanks I get?” He snarls, his cocky demeanour replaced by the cold cruelty that you’ve only recently allowed yourself to describe it as.

“Provide for me? By stopping me chasing my dreams, keeping me at home so I can cook and clean for you for what? You to sexually harass your co-workers?” You blurt, wincing as you play your hand a little too early.

“Jesus Christ is this about that slut Jessica in the Boston office? Bitch came on to me. Fucking hell, I thought we were over this crap!”

“I spoke with Jessica, and Alice, and they both told me how you basically forced them to suck your dick, you should be charged with sexual assault you sick fuck.” Your temper is building, and you try to keep your tone of voice even but the look Tristan is giving you makes you snap.

“All this time you’ve been rejecting me, making me feel like I’m a whore just for wanting you, and you go and pull this shit?” You slam your hand down on the table, rage consuming you as the piece of shit sitting before you has the audacity to call one of the many victims of his sexual advances a slut.

“Stop it, you’re making a scene, let’s go home and talk about this.” You see the sweat beading on his forehead, his brow creasing as he looks around at the many faces now turned to look at him. But one face in the crowd is looking elsewhere.

The handsome stranger in that absurd baseball cap at the bar is giving you a look you could only describe as awe. His dark brown eyes glimmer in the low light and you feel heat rise up onto your cheeks as you watch them dip lower to your cleavage.

“I’m not going back to that house Tristan. I’m here to say we’re over, and my lawyer is going to be in touch, that prenup you got me to sign? You should have checked my amendments more thoroughly.” You say, leaning back on the bench, Tristan’s face is a picture, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to come up with something to say.

“Bitch.” Is all he manages as he storms out of the bar, phone to his ear as he slams the door on the way out. There’s a pregnant pause in the bar before people return to their evenings. You breathe a sigh of relief as you drop your head into your hands, your elbows resting against the table as you let out a small laugh.

The sound of heavy boots approaching makes you look up, your breath hitches in your throat as you see the handsome man from the bar, two beers in his one hand, thick fingers curled around the necks of the bottles.

Fuck, he’s even more handsome up close.

“Thought you might like a beer after that.” He says with a soft, rumbling voice that makes your heart flutter.

“Bold of you to buy me a drink.” You say, raising an eyebrow at him as he winces at your words.

“It’s the least you deserve for putting a predator like him in his place.”

“Shit you heard that?”

“Mhmm, I think the whole bar did.”

“Fuck.” You groan as you motion for him to sit with one hand, pinching the bridge of your nose with your thumb and forefinger of the other as you exhale heavily.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself sunshine, I think the whole bar would have cheered if you’d thrown a drink at him.”

“Too bad I drank it all, and sunshine? Really?” You scoff as you take a sip of beer, you don’t owe this man a thing, but a free drink is a free drink.

“Thought it fit, stunning but dangerous.”

God he’s smooth.

You hate admitting it but you would let this man take you home and show you a good time, even if it was just to rinse the proverbial taste of Tristan out of your mouth.

“Alright, I’ll bite, to whom do I owe the pleasure of sharing such a middling European lager with?” You raise your bottle in toast.

“I’m Francisco,” He says with a smirk, clinking his bottle against yours, “But my friends call me Frankie.”

----

It’s barely an hour later and you’re pressed against his door, tongues colliding messily as you tangle your fingers in the curls at the nape of his neck. His one hand holds you by the hip, pinning you to the door as the other cradles the back of your neck.

His lips are soft, plush, as they pull at your own. His moustache brushes against your skin, sending crackles of sensation racing through you. You’ve never been one for one-night stands but you’re willing to make an exception for the smooth-talking man with his hard dick pressed firmly against your thigh.

“Fuck,” Frankie grunts as he drops his head to your shoulder, his strong nose pressing against your pulse point as he inhales aggressively against your skin, “Smell so good sunshine, like honey and cream, can’t wait to taste you.” He growls as he licks a heavy stripe up the column of your neck, latching his lips onto your earlobe as he hitches your legs around his hips, walking you further into his apartment.

You shudder at his words and whine at the hungry growl that fills your ear as you steal glances around his apartment, clean, sparsely decorated, but it feels lived in. Before you can take in any more of his home, you’re in his bedroom. His large frame cages you in as he lies you down against the pillows.

“Shit, I’m sorry we were going to get a drink and talk,” He pants as he hovers over you, reining in some modicum of his desire as he kneels between your legs, one of his large hands coming up to brush a loose strand of hair out of your face, “You’re just intoxicating mi Sol.” He purrs as he shudders over you.

“We can talk over breakfast.”

You pull his cap off his head, incredulous that it's stayed on so long, and fling it off the bed before threading your fingertips through his hair. You ruffle the tight waves and Frankie groans as you scrape your fingernails along his scalp.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” Frankie murmurs as he teases you, letting his body sink down into you, his eyes glisten as he runs his tongue along your bottom lip. You chase his mouth, but he pulls away, leaning back to pull off his flannel shirt. Soft tan skin, littered with scars, taut with muscle but undeniably soft make you keen. Your hips buck under him and he chuckles softly.

“Such a needy baby.”

“You’re telling me this isn’t needy?” You cock your head to the side as you palm his erection through his jeans and he rolls his hips forward with a groan.

“You got me there.” He glances down at you, his eyes suddenly flash with something deeper, more hostile than desire, as he cups your cheek. But it’s gone before you can truly register it. He dips his head down to your neck, sucking and licking your skin softly as he moves down your body.

“Let’s get these clothes off, yeah? Need to see you.”

It takes no time at all for you to strip each other of your clothes. Before you know it, you’re bare below him. His thick cock is erect as he kneels between your legs and it’s glorious. He pumps himself slowly as he lets his eyes wander over your naked body.

Fuck he’s gorgeous.

You think as you admire his sizeable dick, not too big, just right. Your mouth waters as you watch him pull his foreskin back, exposing his weeping, thick tip.

“So beautiful, like the sun herself.” He mutters under his breath as he lowers himself on the bed, nestling his broad shoulders between your pliable thighs. His lips drag up your thigh, seemingly savouring every inch of your skin. The tension in your core is almost painful as he licks and sucks your tender flesh. He pauses over a spot on your inner thigh and groans as he nips at the flesh.

“Fuck!” You cry out at the sensation, it burns like he cut you with something sharp. Then it fades into a warm, pleasant buzz and you forget all about the pain, mewling as his hot, wet mouth meets your glistening folds.

“Sorry that was a little hard, I’ll be more careful.”

You barely register his words as his tongue teases at your folds, causing your hips to cant up, chasing his tongue once more. This time he doesn’t pull away, he presses his strong nose against your clit and inhales, groaning loudly as his tongue breaches your entrance. The strong muscle teases at your entrance as his nose pressures your tight bundle of nerves.

“Absolutely delicious.” He groans as he moves up to your clit as he latches his lips around it, pressing languid strokes of his tongue against the swollen nub and you cry out another sharp scratch burns around your clit. You’re too blissed out to question it and you buck up unto his mouth.

“Mi Sol, you make it far too hard to show restraint.” Frankie growls as you look down at him, his eyes are almost black, and you roll your head back just a second too early. Frankie grins up at you, mouth bloody and fangs out before he takes your clit between his lips. You’re so wet, you’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so fucking horny.

“Frankie, need your fingers.” You whine, desperation thick in your voice as you feel the tightening in your core as you clench around nothing.

“Anything for you to keep making those sweet little noises.”

He breaches your wet heat with two fingers, sinking into you with ease. You’ve never been this wet, it drives you so close to the edge, the way his fingers fill you snugly as he laps wildly at your clit. You marvel at the fact that this may even be better than sex with your ex-girlfriend, something about the way Frankie devours you is beyond belief.

“Come for me, spill your nectar into my mouth.”

You come hard around his fingers. The strange choice of words somehow spurring your orgasm into an explosion of curled toes, quivering thighs, and strangled, wordless moans as you feel pleasure rip through you like a wild animal. Your blood sings in your veins, pleasure throbs through your arteries, like your heart is full of an aphrodisiac and with every pump you’re driven higher into oblivion.

“Good, such a good girl.” Frankie wheezes as he wipes his hand on the back of his mouth, wiping away any evidence of his affliction from his lips as he repositions over you, his thick tip notched at your entrance as you quiver through aftershocks.

“Frankie,” You groan, holding his face in your hands as your vision sharpens, all you can see, all you can feel, all you can think about his him. His patchy facial hair glistens and he smiles at you as he presses into you.

That’s when you see them, his fangs. They hang from his mouth like curved pearlescent daggers. Your eyes flick down to where you had felt the scratch on your thigh in panic. Your eyes bulge in terror as you notice the blood on your legs, a firm hand clamps down on your mouth before you can scream. He bears his weight down on you as he pulls his tip out of you. You don’t know if you’re relieved or pained at the loss of sensation.

“Shit, you weren’t supposed to see that.” He growls as he spreads your legs with his own, hooking under your knees with his feet, spreading you out. You feel arousal course through you when you know, logically, you should be terrified. One of his large hands pins your wrists above your head. You’re truly at his mercy.

“If I remove my hand, will you promise not to scream?” His voice is shaky and you almost think you hear fear in his tone. You nod slowly, playing nice with the monster above you. Scenarios are running through your mind, at best he was a vampire, at worst he’s a cannibal and you’re truly fucked.

“What the fuck Frankie? Is that even your real name?”

He huffs as he rubs his eyes with his free hand, swiping it down his face in a very human manner. You give him no quarter, glaring up at him with as much fire you can muster. You’re horny, terrified, and it pays to mention twice, so, so horny.

“Like I said, my name is Francisco, and my friends call me Frankie.”

“Ok, Francisco,” You snap and you feel him shudder as you say his full name, “What the fuck is going on here?”

“As you’ve probably already guessed, I’m a vampire, and I was going to bite you, again.”

You’re surprised, and somewhat comforted by his honesty, but you raise your eyebrows at him. He hesitates before continuing and you suck in a deep breath, making it very clear you’re about to scream louder than when he made you come.

“Alright, alright,” Frankie snaps as he leans back onto his heels, completely disentangling himself from you, “What do you want to know?”

You pause for a moment, dramatically placing a finger to your lips as you pretend to think of a question. Frankie looks more and more desperate with every passing second and something about that emboldens you.

“So, you bit me?”

“Yes.”

“Am I going to turn into a vampire now?”

“No.”

“Were you going to kill me?”

“No, never!”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

That hits a nerve, Frankie’s eyes dart away from you and you watch as he runs his hand through his sweaty locks and sighs. He exhales, though you wonder if that was more a habit than a need to empty his lungs.

“You’d have either laughed me off, or run for the hills. I wanted to spend a night with you, no killing or turning involved.” He says, dropping his gaze to focus on his hands.

“Francisco,” You laugh, the sound makes him snap his head up to look at you, hurt in his eyes, “You realise most people my age grew up with a vampire kink right?”

You think if he could blush, his face would be rosy as he realises the truth in your words.

“Those fucking Twilight books!” He exclaims with disbelief written across his face.

“I mean, I was more about The Southern Vampire Mysteries. But whatever floats your boat I guess?”

You smile up at the bashful vampire and despite everything, you kind of like him. He seems to visibly relax, slumping back onto his ass, his legs either side of you as you move up onto your knees.

“Fuck I’m sorry, I’m usually so much better at this, but you’re just so,” He pauses as his pupils dilate and his body shudders, “Irresistible.”

“Fine. I’ve got one more question.”

Frankie just nods, and you try to focus on his face, and not the painfully hard dick bobbing between you as he moves his head.

“When you bit me, it felt good, why?” You scrunch your face up in an uncertain grimace as if you’re weird for feeling good about being bitten.

“Ah yes, that’s a survival mechanism so that our, uh, prey, don’t panic, it’s sterilising too.”

“So, your spit is an antibacterial aphrodisiac?”

“More or less, same can be said for other, uh, secretions.”

Once more you would wager that if Frankie could blush he would be beet red right now. Instead, he squirms under your gaze, and you decide to throw caution to the wind.

“Francisco,” You purr as you crawl onto his lap, draping your arms around his neck as you hover over his dick, “If you promise not to kill me, I’d be delighted to fuck you.”

“You sure? I won’t be offended if you want to leave or stake me.”

“I think,” You purr as you dip your head down to his jaw, rubbing your nose along his patchy facial hair, “We’d both rather if it were you impaling me.”

That seems to be enough to convince Frankie, you feel yourself lurch back on the bed and with inhuman speed Frankie notches himself at your core as your head hits the pillows. His mouth is on yours, begging for entry as his tongue traces the seam of your lips.

You tilt your hips up with a groan, he presses his tongue languidly against yours as you dig your nails into his shoulders. He whimpers at the pain and drives his thick, sizeable cock inside you, balls slapping against your ass as he snarls into your mouth.

You’re so full, his length just right to press into your g-spot but mercifully not so large he can reach your cervix. You think you might actually die if he could, considering the pace he’s set and how hard he’s driving into you. You drop one hand to your clit; you can already feel you’re close and you’re desperate to chase the next one before Frankie comes.

“Fuck, mi Sol knows what she wants,” Frankie groans as he pulls back to watch where your bodies connect, where your fingers are rolling tight circles over your sensitive nub, “Look so hot touching yourself while I fuck your tight little pussy.

“Feel so good Frankie, like it hard and fast, your cock’s fucking perfect.” You respond as you reach up with your free hand to tug at the curls at the nape of his neck. His eyes snap up to meet yours and his fangs glisten as he pants hard.

“Bite me Frankie.” You whine as you feel the twist in your gut as your orgasm builds. You turn your neck to the side before he can protest and you hear the animalistic grunt as he buries himself deep inside you before dropping his head to your neck.

“Need you to tell me to stop if I go for too long mi Sol,” His speech is slurred as he noses along the column of your neck, lips catching and dragging delightfully over your pulse point. You shudder and mewl as you feel the hot drag of his tongue on your skin, “Promise me.”

“I promise, Frankie, I’m going to-.”

You don’t finish your sentence, the sharp stab of Frankie’s fangs melds with the return to a blinding pace as he fucks you with abandon. You come hard as you press firmly against your clit, rubbing hard as you feel the euphoric bliss flood through you. Your neck blossoms with heat, flames licking through your veins as Frankie feeds from you.

There’s a blunt pain, like a deep bruise but it’s engulfed by the soothing effect of his salvia and the white hot pleasure pulsing through your cunt. You cry out and wail at the different pleasures coursing through you. It’s like they meet somewhere in the middle and your mind goes blank, white-hot streaks blurring your vision as you come completely undone.

“Fuck me harder Frankie, nggh, harder, fuckmefuckmefuckme!” Your words come unbidden from your mouth as you feel his groan vibrate through your very bones. Frankie pulls away, eyes blown wide with desire as your blood trickles out of the corner of his mouth.

“So fucking sweet, knew you’d taste good, but this?” He thumbs the blood from his skin, holding it up in the low light of the bedroom, “This is divine, I don’t think I can live without it now mi Sol.”

“Then don’t.” You whine, snatching his wrist with a weak hand, but he doesn’t fight you as you bring his thumb to your lips. You suck the combination of his saliva and your blood off his thumb and groan as the coppery taste hits you. Followed quickly by a warm, numbing sensation that coats your tongue. You suck gently on Frankie’s digit as the aphrodisiac effect ignites a burst of pleasure in your core.

“You want to be mine, truly mine?” Frankie growls as his thrusts become harder, more erratic as he cups your face with one large hand, the other pinning you to the bed by your hip. His fingertips dig into the soft flesh of your thigh and you squirm under him, pleasure making you feel light-headed.

“Please.”

“Good, because I’m never letting you go mi Sol, you’re mine, forever.” He grunts as he thrusts into you twice more, then he stills, panting and grunting as he spills inside you again and again. There’s so much cum you feel it leaking out of you the moment he starts to soften.

He pulls out completely, moving down to spit on your pussy and you whine and shudder at the way it slides down your folds, mingling with the blood, spit and your combined release. His fingers gather it all up and with one digit he slowly plugs you up, keeping everything inside as he places hot, wet kisses to your inner thighs.

“Frankie what are you-?”

“Trust me, mi Sol, you want me to do this, otherwise you’re not going to walk straight for a few days.” He mutters softly against your skin, kissing your tender flesh with such soft devotion you feel heat rising in your cheeks.

“So, this is vampire aftercare huh?” You wheeze as you prop yourself up on your elbows to watch as Frankie dotes on you in the most bizarre but delightful way.

“Mhm,” His eyes are closes as he moves his mouth lower, inhaling deeply as he gets close to your stuffed pussy, “Gotta look after my girl, if you’re still into that idea, that is?”

“Frankie, we just fucked in fucking missionary and it was the best sex of my life. As long as you don’t turn out to be a Scientologist, I’m willing to give this a shot.” You tease as you sit up a little more, running your hair through his soft, sweaty curls.

“So, Scientology is a no-go, but vampire is a-okay?” He asks with a teasing grin on his face that makes your chest flutter.

“What can I say, I’m a freak for freaks, but draw the line at anything endorsed by Tom Cruise.”

Frankie laughs, a deep, throaty noise that makes you clench around the finger still seated deep inside you.

“We’re going to get on just fine mi Sol, but any time you want to leave, I will not stop you. I’ve lived too long to know that trapping you would end in misery. I want this to be as, uh, normal, as possible.”

“Maybe you should have thought of that before ruining my pussy for every other human being out there now I’ve had vampire dick.”

“That fucking mouth,” Frankie purrs as his pupils dilate, “Going to have to see what other dirty things you can say and do.”

“Bring it on Francisco.” You goad him as you bite down on your lip and wink up at him. He has you pinned back against the bed before you can react. His lips brush against yours gently as you feel his hardening dick press against your stomach.

“The night is young, and I’m just getting started mi Sol.”

Your lips clash hungrily, and you smile to yourself as you get lost in each other’s bodies once more.

Who would have thought a breakup would feel so good?

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist! <3

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pufflehuffing · 2 months

Text

Hungry Like The Wolf. - Professor!Sebastian Sallow X F!Student!Reader 🔞

pairing: Professor!Sebastian Sallow X F!Student!Reader (part 2 of this fic, but can be read by itself, the plot is minimal and explained here too) genre: smut, mdni (everyone is 18+) warnings: wordplay on animal costumes (not actual animal smut!) | underage drinking | teacher/student | fingering | eating out | unprotected fucking | breeding | cum eating summary: Weeks after the tryst in Professor Sallow’s office, Halloween rolled around. Surrounded by gloomy decorations and merrymaking, a wolf and his bunny find a way to continue their passionate love away from the festivities. word count: 10.2k A/N: The Halloween costumes were loosely inspired by this Alice In Wonderland art from @choccy-milky & @dansgiii, thank you for the inspo! I also blame @dvinaamesca for her pictures of Sebastian that make me crave this man like a starving woman. Every time I see one, all I can envision is professor Sallow! My masterlist.

Silhouettes danced around the candlelit Great Hall, making it look straight from hell itself. Pumpkins joyously peeked from every nook and the resident ghosts danced through the lights, casting eerie shadows throughout the castle's most elegantly furnished room. Costumed students and professors mingled about, the latter's nerves jangled with anticipation as if awaiting tricks rather than treats. Professor Sallow strode confidently towards a quiet corner, emitting an arrogant air, his gaze carefully keeping watch of the partying students. Meanwhile, in the corridor outside, staggered a lithe footstep; dragged almost, as if struggling towards the gathering. It was her. Her careful tread echoed, signalling her imminent arrival.

Professor Sallow’s brow perked up immediately at the sight of those familiar, innocent eyes walking in. His heart raced faster, thinking back of their encounter from a month ago, and he already cursed himself for not bringing his cloak with him to hide his imminent arousal. “Finally,” he thought. “There she is.” His eyes devoured every flawless inch from across the room, his gaze drinking in every pore that begged for his touch weeks ago and every cut from his duelling classes since then. Even clad in that revealing fur-lined baby blue dress with white bunny ears, she was breathtakingly beautiful. But, she didn't notice him yet, too fixated on searching for the familiar faces of her friends among the packed crowd.

The professor remained standing tall and imposing against the wall, his own costume fitting his presence perfectly. His tall frame was draped in a black shirt and slacks, accentuating his toned frame underneath. His hair was tousled wildly, giving an air of danger hidden beneath his composed façade while brown, conjured wolf ears peeked out from his curls. The irony was not lost on him amidst energetic laughter and festive chatter filling the hall. They were symbolic representations framed against such a backdrop; the hunter chasing the prey yet dominated by it simultaneously. He leaned against the wall, sipping from a glass of firewhisky nonchalantly, casually passing friendly words with fellow teachers and students that passed him. Unbeknownst to them all, his eyes never left her, the animalistic hunger in them growing more pronounced with each passing moment.

Her gaze landed upon her friends, her smile brightening momentarily. She laughed at a joke directed at her that fell on deaf ears for him. He watched, craving to devour this view of her happiness privately. Encased within their attire hung both their secret, delight and anxious longing for a private moment amidst the festivities. Regardless of the bunch gathered at this event, something deep inside him longed to peel the layers of her bunny suit off her sensuous form under dim lights' aid.

His eyes followed her as she joined her friends who appeared absolutely thrilled to see her. However, his heart twisted in anticipation; every laugh and joke shared became less enticing by the minute due to the own secret dialogue of attraction lingering between star-crossed costumed lovers. The wolf chased his rabbit across a sea of strangers, waiting for their moment away from prying eyes to resume their liberating cycle behind closed doors.

Approaching the small cluster of seventh-years, he cleared his throat, casual yet commanding as always. "Miss, may I borrow you away from your merrymaking?" His words held an underlying note of urgency that only those attuned to him would pick up. She turned reluctantly, flashing her sweet smile. "Of course, professor," she said politely, extracting herself gracefully from the group. "Good evening, girls," he said to the remaining group. "Thought I'd have a word with her before things get rowdier." The others giggled nervously, hearing the more sinister edge to his normally jovial tone. His wolf-ears flipped back happily as he turned to the delighted girl, her eyes sparkling with equal bewilderment and excitement.

"Cute bunny attire," he complimented, his hand subtly brushing past the fluffy ball on her behind as he moved her in front of him and led her through the crowd. She giggled nervously, her heart skipping a beat at this public display of affection. "Yes, quite a coincidence, isn't it?" She managed to choke out. "Where did the idea come from to be a wolf?" Her eyes searched his behind her curiously, but he seemed unaffected by the truth lingering beneath their costumes. His eyes wandered around them, then back to her bashfully playful face hidden partially behind her hair. "It only struck me last minute. Found it fitting too…" He trailed off in a husky whisper as he leaned down to her ear, a gesture that could be perceived as innocent due to the loud environment. His furry ears bounced like his heartbeat, expecting some thrill soon, more specifically: his ideal prey, all dressed up amidst holiday cheer.

When they were finally out of earshot from the crowd, the air around them crackled energetically in a corner of the Great Hall. His hand grazed her waist lightly— enough contact for now with this many witches and wizards close by. "Ever wary as a wolf, you see," his fingers waved in quotations. The levitating decorations above them teased at their desires hidden behind flimsy façades. A secret battle between their animalistic identities showcased through these outfits. "We both know we won't stay away from temptation tonight…" he concluded notably after taking another sip from his firewhisky.

She glanced at his drink, tilting her head slightly. "Is that alcoholic? It smells… strange." Her eyes were wide with curiosity mixed with anticipation. His gaze darkened ever so slightly as he lifted the glass out of her reach if she'd dare try to take a sip. "No, no, sweetheart, you're too young for that." Protectiveness flashed in those brown eyes that roamed over her child-like bunny costume thoughtfully before meeting her gaze again. She sighed, slightly disappointed but secretly appreciative of his concern. With a mischievous glint in her own eyes, she curiously asked him about the contents of his drink. Professor Sallow, ever the distinguished gentleman, chuckled cunningly at her curiosity. "Just firewhisky," he explained in hushed tones intended only for her ears' delight. "Something not appropriate for such tender lips," he leaned in again, a cocky aura oozing from him. As if governed by internal instincts, his wolf ears perked up subtly at the thought of starting something infinitely more exciting than just these whispers in the corner of the Great Hall.

"Firewhisky?" she asked innocently, a hint of curiosity colouring her voice. "What's that?"

Professor Sallow chuckled softly, amused by her childlike curiosity. "A grown-up drink," he explained playfully, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Not something for someone as young and innocent as you." He watched as she pouted prettily, her large eyes locking onto his in a silent plea for some resolution. "Getting you tipsy is the last thing I intend to do tonight,” he grinned teasingly, carelessly running his fingertips along the pillar beside her. "I can think of other plans for you though, dear." His wolf-ears seemed to flutter with excitement at the prospect and perhaps even a tinge of possessiveness.

Her eyes shifted from the ground up to meet his expectantly. Blushing, she hesitated slightly before responding softly, "I liked our last… meeting… in your office." There was a hint of nervousness in her tone as she spoke about their secret rendez-vous. The recollection of their deep kisses and subsequent pounding of his cock inside her had left an aura of guilt around them which neither could shake off entirely.

Hearing this unexpected confession, Professor Sallow's eyes sparkled with newfound confidence and mischief despite the faintest shadow of worry present behind them. He licked his lips thoughtfully in response during the courageous moment they shared, standing silently under the animated decorations above them. His eyes seemed to say "shame on you" and yet his fingers insisted on brushing gently past her fluffy bunny tail again, almost a silent applause to their naughty deeds.

"And here we are again," he whispered almost accusingly yet not without his interest being piqued. He sipped more firewhisky from his glass before slowly continuing. There was genuine concern behind his words as he looked down into her large, defiant eyes; still innocent yet newfound grown-up thoughts etched all over her face tonight. “We really shouldn't be doing this, sweetheart…" he trailed off, hinting at what lay ahead for them shortly. The wolf's ears twitched irresistibly from his imaginations of his bunny bouncing on his lap again.

"Yes…" she agreed hesitantly, her voice sounding defeated. She bit her bottom lip nervously, glancing around them cautiously before returning her attention to him. Tensions in the air thickened palpably as they stood there, waiting for whatever would happen next. Their bodies ached with desire for each other; the brushing of fingers and accidental contact heightening the anticipation. She winced slightly when he took another sip of firewhisky, knowing all too well how potent it could be, especially when combined with his state of heightened arousal. Her palms trembled at the sight of his strong, muscular arm; conveying both fascination and fear at what was unfolding between them. Despite knowing she shouldn't pursue this relationship further— or at all, for that matter— something inside her couldn't resist the pull of their forbidden connection.

"But, professor…" she managed to choke out, her voice barely audible above the background noise. She paused, steeling herself for whatever repercussions followed her actions, but also eagerly awaiting the release of their pent-up desires. Her breath hitched as she watched him casually take another gulp of his drink, his Adam's apple visibly bobbing, reminding her of his strong masculinity. "I can't help it," she confessed boldly yet with firm eyes, defiance painted in bold strokes on her angelic face. She knew what she was asking from him was risky and taboo, but tonight felt different under the shroud of Halloween blissfully brewing around them. Bringing down his hand from the pillar, she intertwined their fingers despite his protests or concerns. "I can't help what I feel." Another glimpse around confirmed no one was paying attention in this sea of costumed joyous souls; still, every sighted eye in their general direction felt like danger and judgement.

His gaze lingered on their interlocking fingers then trailed back to meet her brave, beguiling gaze, heart throbbing against his chest like a wild creature she had tamed part of. The firewhisky played tricks on him now; it seemed more like a burning invitation instead of dulling his senses as it should have been. "The chase was worth the prize,” didn't he always think? Now he could almost feel her lithe body beneath those fur-lined layers. "You should go back," he warned softly yet hungered for this daring display of affection even though they were on borrowed time. He tilted his head playfully at her boldness. "I do believe your friends would miss their bunny," he teased slightly, but lust coursed through his words marked by hunger glinting dangerously.

Her sparkling eyes conveyed a mixture of challenge and desire. "They wouldn't mind if she decided to hop into another burrow," she said playfully, letting go of his hand with a reluctant squeeze. With her gaze still locked on him, she sighed softly in pure resolution as she understood this conversation led nowhere professional. She wanted adventure, which was embodied purely by him. Acting as the backdrop to their hidden intentions, laughter echoed through the Great Hall, but it sounded distant amidst the intoxicating desire brewing between them. The wolf's heart thumped heavily within him, mirroring the bunny's, pulsing with nervous excitement.

Professor Sallow's eyes settled on her with a predatory gleam, unable to resist any longer as her boldness propelled them further into their forbidden territory. But even amidst the pulsing rapture, he couldn't ignore the unfortunate context of it all— a student daring her idolised professor and vice versa. "We really shouldn't," he mumbled aloud one last time like an oath, breaking her gaze while his hand still yearned to grab her elusive body again. He inhaled deeply to quell a sudden urge; no interruption seemed to appear tonight unless she let her impatience lead them into potential danger. His heart pounded against his chest like a wolf pacing in a cage, eager for release from self-imposed restraint yet appreciating her fearlessness before him under the ceilings hung with gory decorations. He knew where this could lead them both if caught, but dismissed every possibility except for continuing with their plans. "But we will," he smiled secretively, relief palpable under the phantom shadows cast by the candles floating randomly through the grand hall that night.

Her playful gaze seemed to flash a dare in his direction, causing his furred ears to twitch with anticipation. He couldn't help but notice the fervour dancing in her eyes as she slowly extended her hand towards his glass of firewhisky. He watched her with an intensity born out of their situation and quickening heartbeat. He decided to test her resolve, pulling it away again just before she could touch it. The resulting puppy-like pout gracing her face was breathtakingly delightful. "Patience, dear," he grinned mysteriously into her pouty stare, aroused by her audacity even more now than before. Despite everything that twirled around and within them, there was also an unspoken urge to protect her. After all, he was her teacher.

Beneath the veil of Halloween festivities, Professor Sallow's desires were invigorated by this unconventional game they were playing. The grey area between their teacher-student relationship had never felt so explicit or thrilling, even that faithful evening in his office wasn't this raunchy. His erection strained against his black trousers unapologetically but surprisingly found solace in her teases that were laced with challenges only girls her age could deliver.

Her gaze flickered between him and the elusive glass that was denied yet again, a clear challenge in the eyes staring at him. She huffed lightly, bringing forth a much younger and carefree side he didn't always see from his student. "Just a taste?" she pleaded playfully, her pout now tinged with alluring sincerity. "I haven't had anything stronger than pumpkin juice since…" her words died down into a whisper as if reminiscing distant childhood days. The wolf's small heart responded enthusiastically to her persistence; denying this could make her annoyed, and that was the last thing he wanted from his precious sweetheart. "You promise you can handle it?" He double-checked, concern lacing his voice. His hand hovered close enough before handing over the surprisingly heavy glass holding the amber liquid.

Reluctantly, she nodded her head and accepted the glass from him. Her heart hammered wildly in her chest as she lifted it to her lips, the spicy warmth of the drink burning a trail down her throat. It was unlike anything she had ever had before and despite her acquaintance with wine and ale back home, it left her reeling slightly. Her face flushed redder than usual and she coughed lightly, her chest heaving as she set the glass back in his hand forcefully. She struggled to catch her breath, her eyes watering ever so slightly. "It's… strong," she managed to choke out between gasps. Her eyes pleaded with him not to send her away yet and even through the foggy haze caused by the drink, she could sense his amusement at her discomfort.

Professor Sallow couldn't help but snicker at her misfortune, his hand brushing lightly over her elbow to steady her while her eyes darted around furtively for any signs of eavesdroppers before calming back down. The warm feeling pervading inside him was a perfect mix of concern and sheer amusement; an unusual cocktail for someone in his position, she had to admit. "Firewhisky isn't for the faint-hearted, my dear." His concerned whisper was laced with humour as she looked at him with watery eyes.

"I can understand why.” Her voice was tainted with the smoke and fire from the drink but her eyes twinkled mischievously, still challenging him surprisingly well. The brave girl dared further into unknown territories of seduction, her cheeks still blushing fiercely from the alcohol. "You haven't told me yet…” she breathed lightly, catching him off-guard since they'd taken care not to speak openly about their secret tryst here or anywhere else before. Her irresistible smile highlighted her genuine interest while also demanding an answer. Her boldness showed even when she was recovering from the strong drink he fed her a moment ago. "Did you enjoy it?" She asked directly, looking straight through his eyes whose depth she knew by now.

Professor Sallow's brown ears twitched noticeably at her daring question that echoed through the festivities around them. His heart pounded against his chest with a fierce anticipation of their passionate history intertwined under the disguises of Halloween music and decorations. He took another gulp of firewhisky, hiding his growing arousal from her gaze. His eyes bore into hers before answering slowly, each word wrought with restraint, "I won't lie about it; yes." Despite holding back, he could not deny it. It was adventurous, just like their conversation tonight enveloped by strange decorations. The wolf inside him trembled at the memory of the past evening he shared with such a bold enchantress disguised as a student.

His answer seemed to embolden her further as her eyes gleamed with triumph and lust. Despite the tension lingering in the air between them, their hearts synchronised like old lovers sharing secrets at last. With defiance etched into every contour of her face, she leaned closer towards him, flirting dangerously close to intimate territory. "Then perhaps, we should do it again?" Her soft murmur was burdened with fervent desire and now it appeared neither was willing or able to resist this mutual longing anymore, even amidst a crowd eager to celebrate their costumed night.

Professor Sallow's hand tightened around hers again, borrowing comfort from solid contact amidst the chaos surrounding them. His mind whirred with thoughts; he knew exactly where her proposal led but couldn't resist its temptation. "And what makes you think I won't say no?" He asked, feigning innocence despite his racing pulse and bulge in his pants.

"You wouldn't dare disappoint me tonight, would you?" She declared boldly, innocence leaving her features to reveal the fire inside her eyes. She pulled her hand away, standing mere inches away from his warmth, awaiting his answer. Her scent mixed with the faint hint of alcohol was uniquely intoxicating and despite knowing better, he found himself succumbing to her siren song.

Smirking playfully, the professor took another sip of his drink, letting the liquid burn in his throat before responding to her innocent yet provocative challenge. "My dear, I never refuse passionate requests from strikingly intelligent young women." His gaze held an unspoken promise she found both enticing and terrifying all at once. Noticing her visible excitement, he leaned closer, whispering into her ear. "Your performance in class has improved quite remarkably since our… private session together." His heavy breath brushed against her sensitive skin, causing a shiver to course through her body.

The air between them was thick with anticipation and daring intentions; her composure was a tightrope that was increasingly difficult to walk. Her eyes, punctuated by a thrill of excitement, met his smirking gaze as she nodded in agreement. "Then it's worth repeating," she declared arrogantly, her voice low yet steady with hidden bravado.

His glass trembled slightly, an unmistakable sign of tense expectancy or perhaps pure lust. He stole another glance around them, then looked back into her confident but vulnerable eyes. "This might just turn out to be your most memorable Halloween yet," he commented huskily, his wolf trapped inside yearning for liberation. The wolfish professor surveyed the commotion around them and whispered into her ear. "Meet me in the hallway outside, five minutes." It was a command couched in words of an intimate plan they were now committed to execute. Beneath the pulsating music and laughter, they dared their next extraordinary rendez-vous into reality and their unapologetic, unashamedly lustful hearts aligned under the ghosts waltzing through the air above them.

Accepting his command silently, she nodded in agreement before slowly releasing herself from his gaze. With a teasing smile playing at the corner of her mouth, she flitted back to her circle of friends, the bunny ears on her diadem bobbing up and down. Her voice was empty with feigned sickness as she explained to them with a faint smirk on her face. "I am feeling a bit unwell. I think it's best that I leave and head to bed early." Despite their questions she didn't linger for any negotiations about her leaving early from the party. Slipping through the crowded room faster than light amid the spooky decorations, she couldn't help but hum gleefully under breath. Her heart pounded at every beat of the music, faster than Devil's Snare slithering in darkness under this fascinating endeavour they embarked upon.

Professor Sallow discreetly watched his muse slip away from her friends amidst their questions; a hearty grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as he prepared his own alibi. "Excuse me gentlemen, duty calls,” he murmured suavely amidst his colleagues before disappearing into the crowd with an air of calm resolution. His path led him to where he'd arranged their secret rendez-vous outside in one of the less-frequented hallways, heart racing like a trapped hare under his shirt just as much in anticipation as fear. When he arrived at said location, she stood framed against the dark corridor, an apparition straight out of a fairy tale. A playful smirk adorned her lips and although bathed in shadows, he could see the excitement shimmering in her eyes. She tapped her heel impatiently but kept looking around frequently to make sure no one was watching them.

Taking notice of her restlessness and cautiousness, the professor pressed himself against the wall facing her, his gaze drawing an invisible connection between them despite their distance. Despite the silence echoing through the deserted hallway, there was an electric energy passing between them that hummed louder than any cacophony around them. The game was set, players were ready, and now all it took was daring one step over the line. He let out an exhale softly, his accent thickening with desire. "You have no idea how hard you make me with that dress," he proclaimed boldly, for those words didn't hold regret or apology. Her beauty and bravery stole more than just his heartbeats tonight; it captured the very essence of his freedom and will.

The playful tension between them seemed to heighten further with every whispered word, their breaths misting heavily against the cold, stone walls. She licked her lips nervously before confessing honestly. "And… you make me just as… excited." Her admission hung heavy in air with its promise and danger veiled beneath layers of modesty. His eyes followed her gaze towards him, taking note of his growing erection apparent under his trousers. It was a ripe testament overhanging their imminent hookup dictated by the strong brew and daring whispers lost in the festivities earlier. "Is that so?" he breathed out into the silence. His wolf dared him to take the first step across that thin line emerging between them. "Do I?" His voice broke off into a deep growl, revealing his own state of mind, swaying between primal desire and caution.

Then suddenly, under the wall-mounted torches flickering eerily, he was there, his lips crashing onto hers forcefully. His tongue invaded her mouth aggressively, claiming his territory. His hand snaked up to cup her breast through the fabric of her dress, teasing and tweaking her sensitive nipple cruelly. Their tongues tangled passionately; his warmth radiating through their bodies, stinging her lips, but she eagerly reciprocated, matching his heated tempo. Suddenly, he pulled away quickly, his breathing heavy and his eyes glinting with approval.

The sudden forcefulness of their snog caught her off-guard but didn't deter her desire. With a pouty moan, she initiated another round, matching his hunger. The pleasure coursing through her veins was like liquid fire, burning away all remnants of hesitation or caution she still harboured. Their teeth clashed furiously, exchanging their collective moans and whimpers muffled by the pounding music coming from inside the Great Hall. Feeling emboldened, she grabbed ahold of his collar and yanked him closer to her like a suggestive chess move. "Take me," she declared breathlessly, her fingers trembling slightly as they dug into the black fabric. Lord knows how many times she had fantasised about this moment since that fateful night a month ago.

Sensing her desperation, something clicked inside Professor Sallow, ruling him rational once more. His inner lecturer surged through him, overruling the beast unleashed momentarily. "Not here, not like this," he muttered darkly, pulling away slightly but still keeping their bodies pressed against each other. Glancing around nervously, he grabbed her delicate wrist firmly without gentleness. "We need privacy."

Without waiting for her consent, he dragged her swiftly down an empty corridor lit by the glow of torches, pulling her along with the sheer force of his desire burning brightly within him. Despite his insistence on privacy, the thrill of being dragged away by such a powerful person instantly worked as an aphrodisiac for her nerves. Her heart pounded intensely against her chest but she didn't object or resist. Instead she followed him obediently with a lustful grin, stealing quick glances towards students partying heartily in the distance.

Not too long after, their hurried steps brought them to seclusion— Professor Swallow's personal quarters. The door closed softly behind them while the trees outside cast eerie shadows through the windows. She looked around curiously then back at him once they were alone together in his kingdom, away from onlookers or prying eyes. "What now?" Her voice revealed hints of anxiety alongside the hunger that never left her since their first intimate encounter. A simple question, yet his heart pounded harder against his chest from anticipation. Finally finding their sanctuary, every measure of control over him seemed to slip away.

His lips met hers forcefully again and his large hands wandered over her body. The texture of her dress brushed against him like soft velvet as a new scent enveloped them both; a mixture of desire and lingering alcohol. "This," he murmured against her lips brimming in moisture. His tongue wrestled with hers aggressively, an assertion of his dominance above anything else. He tugged the straps down her shoulders while taking his wand out of his pocket to rid himself of his furry ears before tossing it on his nightstand. They were no longer necessary, his inner wolf had already captured its bunny, and now it was time to feast.

The fur-lined costume fell to pool beneath her ankles; her skin glowed under the dim light embracing the room. Panting from their heated kisses and unexpected aggression of undressing, her hands explored his chest through his shirt while biting down her moans from excitement. "You look exquisite when you're wild," he whispered huskily. His words were an offering topped by his eager actions.

With deliberate intention, the professor led her towards his bed and laid her gently but firmly down on it. His eyes never lost sight of her body as it was exposed to his gaze, every curve and dip tantalising him almost to insanity. Slowly undoing buttons of his shirt and peeling it off, his muscular chest heaved with every panting breath, trying hard not to overpower the moment. He felt excited but steered clear of rushing this. This quivering and flushed girl was a still sight to behold even after a month of sneaking glances and notes during his lessons. His pupils dilated as he devoured her delectable body and with bold decisiveness, he crawled on top of her slowly, his belt pressing against her mound.

Their breaths were ragged as much from the anticipation as from the passionately tangled tongues and fingers searching each other's skin again. His belt brushed against her sensitive flesh and she gasped, her hands flexing on his hard shoulders. "You tease," she accused him in a breathy whisper, eyes heavy-lidded from arousal but passionately filled with lust. He chuckled huskily against her soft skin, kissing along her collarbone towards her breasts, his brows knotting with tension but conveying mischief rather than aggression. "Isn't that what professors do to students who perform exceptionally well?" He questioned sarcastically while they were in a position very contrary to a classroom.

The silence that fell between them after was filled with the sloppy sounds of Professor Sallow nipping at his student. For one brief moment he paused before breaking that fleeting calm, continuing further south against her secreting desires. Forwardly, his hand dipped into the lacey underwear she donned, groaning audibly at what he found. Her insides tensed with want; he was teasing her cruelly, making her yearn for him even more under his touch. "Yes," she whined, her voice cracking due to desire. "Oh god, yes!" She squirmed, her body moving involuntarily against his caresses and pecks. Her hips rose, begging for fulfilment.

With her knees quivering, she wrapped her legs around his waist, locking them tightly together to form a barrier around him. Her body arched against his touch, seeking more contact to alleviate the massive buildup of pleasure. "Sir, please," she begged, almost pleading. "Slowly, my dear sweetheart," he answered, his fingertips gliding across her sensitive point just before he struck gold, hitting the right spot that caused her legs to convulse and whimper pitifully, begging for mercy. His lips continued their descent downwards, trailing kisses along her belly button before reaching her wetness. He groaned hungrily at the sight of her aroused state through her damp panties, traces of his saliva composing a messy network around her exposed navel down to her waistband.

His warm breath fanned across her folds, teasingly brushing against her sensitive spot, sending shudders of need through her entire frame. His tongue dipped against her clothed folds, tracing along her entrance before circling her clitoris slowly, building anticipation even further. Her hands gripped his hair tightly, begging silently yet fervently for release, but he was in no hurry. He smiled against the damp lace appreciatively and lightly bit the waistband before murmuring: "It seems our dear student is already falling apart." His flirty banter only further fueled the fire of desire that raged within both of them.

Sliding off the barrier with his teeth, he inhaled sharply at the sight before him. Her fresh scent of arousal mixed with satisfaction wafted into his nostrils. He felt intoxicated yet clear-headed as his eyes locked with hers, a silent communication competing against her rhythmic panting and whimpers that echoed around them in the silence.

Finally spreading her folds apart, his lips descended onto her delicacy. Each swipe of his tongue aimed to tease every bit of ecstasy from her and her breath hitched dangerously hard. His fingers gripped onto her firm thighs firmly, perfect support for his desired task. Moving lower, he licked along her column filled with sweet nectar, letting out an appreciative sound of approval at such delightful sight laid before him; she was truly soaked beyond measure. Every movement he made, every lick and nip, threatened to overwhelm her. With her head thrashing against the pillow, she struggled to calm her wild desires as he continued his oral assault soothingly. His hands travelled and kneaded her rear impulsively, each contact delivering a spark of lust and pleasure onto her.

The professor tended to her like a rare flower, his tongue constantly roaming in figure eights on her petals while smacking his lips seductively as if savouring every second. Her hips bucked reflexively, begging for more as tiny pleas escaped from her. "Sir," she mumbled, her voice coming out shaky and weak due to desperation. "Please…" With no words he answered her pleads but continued his sweet torture around her passage. He worshipped this art piece blessed before him. Just as she tried to beg for respite or any form of satisfaction again, Professor Sallow slipped a skilled finger into her warm entrance. Slowly entering and withdrawing against the slippery walls of her sanctuary, each thrust seemed like a warning or a promise of what was to come next.

Her eyes bulged like a deer in headlights driving through a dark forest; the pleasure was immense and gripping enough to make her thighs shake and ankles tremble. The quiet room echoed with the sound of wet slapping noises, simultaneously stimulating and nerve-wracking for both parties. She cried out incoherent words, her hands gripping and curling into his brown curls. Her moans grew louder, an acoustic testimony to how close she was inching towards satisfaction against his tongue and steady finger plundering her.

He trusted her to handle more than one loose digit so he added another, rocking in tempo with the earlier one. Sucking harder on her clit made her writhe underneath him, offering another crucial sensation to pull her to the point of no return. Her chest heaved heavily against the plush covers; every gasp could have been a cry for mercy, but she didn't utter a word. The sensation of being filled by his fingers drove her wild. She bit down on her bottom lip so hard that it bled slightly but her moans became louder, her body contorting to his invading digits. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure surging through her, urging her closer to her orgasm. One hand still gripped his hair while the other slid over her chest, leaving trails of goosebumps behind while her nipples peaked from both pain and pleasure. She had never felt so exposed and invigorated before this devilish act.

His fingers danced rhythmically within her while sucking softly at her pearl until she was reduced to a panting mess. It was evident she was close, very close. Slower paced thrusts gave way to firmer ones as he signalled his intentions towards her climax, one she begged him for weeks covertly in his defence classes. The room around them seemed to disintegrate into oblivion; all that mattered was the synchronised movements of his lips and tongue on her sensitive areas, and the fingers expertly caressing her depths. Each thrust pushed against the walls of her passage, seeking every hidden corner that craved more attention.

Her body shook noticeably, becoming nearly immobile under the onslaught. Sweat trickled down her chest and between her heaving breasts, glistening in the dim light cast by the candles on the nightstand. Her eyes widened, pleading for relief but also marvelling at the skill displayed by her toned professor. The bruises and marks he left on her thighs grew slightly darker as he continued to assert his dominance without once breaking eye contact.

One more push triggered her orgasmic eruption and she screamed his title over and over, arching her back dramatically as her body tightly enveloped him. "Sir, yes, yes, prof—" Her cunt spasmed around his intruding fingers, milk-white juices coating his digits with each pulsing contraction. It was like watching a volcano erupting, the intense force of her climax shocking them both despite their preparedness. "Did you enjoy yourself, sweetheart?" he purred against her clit before teasingly licking up the trail of nectar spilling out from her well-fucked hole as he removed his fingers. Professor Sallow's chin sparkled with the pearlescent dew oozing from her, but he cleaned it off deliberately slowly with the back of his hand so as not to stir her sensibilities. With satisfaction glowing on his face, he removed his other hand from her rear and relished the sight of her waning down after her orgasm.

"I believe I did," she gasped out, panting heavily and trying hard to catch her breath. Her chest rose and fell rapidly with each inhale, a modest blush bloomed on her cheeks as her hands moved to pull him up; having him hover above her. "And I also believe, sir, you enjoyed it too."

He chuckled with a low voice, flipping his wet digits and stroking them against her bottom lip. "I can hardly refuse when it's this pleasurable, my dear." His pupils were dark, reflecting the hunger seething beneath his composed exterior. Her gaze didn't shy away from his lusty stare. Instead, it matched his, acknowledging the mutual desire they both felt. The unfinished business was obvious when he still sported an impressive bulge under his trousers. "Now what about you, sir?" she asked sultrily, testing the waters of dominance he projected onto her with a coy smile. "Are you satisfied, or would you prefer more?"

Her confidence pleasantly surprised him. It still amazed him how quickly she adapted to his world of sensuality despite her innocence. He showed approval through a smirk and answered. "Oh, I prefer more, sweetheart." He desired to find satisfaction of his own. While she managed to reach her climax early, he was still left in anticipation. He shifted himself gently above her, running the back of his pruney, wet fingers along her jaw and brought their lips together once more, tasting iron on her bottom one. The kiss bore fiery desires, paired with an urge for reciprocation. He startled her again with a sudden pinch at her nipple, enough to make her yelp but not hurt. The gasp and sting triggered another escalation of feelings within both of them. "I've missed my girls," he mumbled against her swollen lips, circling her nub with his thumb before releasing it slowly. "I've been thinking of them for weeks."

The pinch on her nipple electrocuted her senses making her squeak in surprise but also react instantly. Sucking on his lip to ease the sudden contact, she squirmed underneath him, her body aching for more. His words melted away any lingering doubts she might have harboured about him wanting her again after a painfully long month. His statement made her heart stop mid-beat for a moment. Look at them now, they were no longer teacher and student but two explorers locked in an experiment gone right— how life's strange pathways led two wounded souls to find solace in each other's arms. "Just you and me?" Her voice quivered with disbelief, wonder, and hunger.

Her honeyed words fueled his thoughts further, and without warning, he lifted his torso off hers, giving him perfect access to her wet folds again. "Always just us," he confirmed, rubbing his clothed crotch against her entrance, letting her feel its heat and jutting length. "And now," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. "I intend to reenact our fondest memory…"

She watched him pop the buttons of his trousers one by one, each movement a soft caress against his firm tummy. When he finally tugged down the offending fabric to reveal himself standing at full attention, she gasped anew. Her eyes widened in delight at the sight of him, larger than she remembered. The details of his veins were visible, they pulsed with every beat of his heartbeat. Her gaze lingered longer than allotted as he shifted close enough to seat his tip against her sopping entrance. A faint whimper escaped her lips, equal parts eagerness and apprehension. Her nails bit into the soft flesh of her tits. There was no turning back now.

He leaned in again, his lips brushing hers gently, offering reassurance. "Let's go back in time," he coaxed, teasing her sweat-soaked skin with feathery kisses between her throat and collarbone. His words were like time-travelling magic, instantly transporting them into a world where rules and societal boundaries had been gently breached, replaced by raw emotion and magnetism. He secured her legs around his waist before slowly guiding himself deep into her heat, inch by inch. Both gasped concurrently, the familiar sensation of connection overwhelming them both. Her walls hugged him tightly, every ridge settling him deeper, welcoming him and making him groan against her damp skin. He nipped at her neck, finding a delicious spot he knew she savoured.

"Oh, gods," she cried out unabashedly, her nails gripping into his shoulders at the fullness pressing against her core. Their eyes locked upon re-entry as if sharing a secret language only they understood; it was feverish yet possessive. Yet, he didn’t thrust, not right away. Instead, he overstuffed her, breath by breath until the room buzzed with anticipation. His gaze fell toward the veined shaft filling her pussy, a minor shake wobbled the powerful rod within her. He felt victorious. Loved. "Absolutely divine," he praised softly against the nape of her neck, "You fit me perfectly, dear." Each undulation in her cunt beneath him hinted at the pleasure he derived from her.

Then, he began thrusting rhythmically, pulling out almost completely before crashing back into her until their bodies slapped together vulgarly. Her whimpers were like music to his ears while further stroking his desire wilder. "Tighter than I remember, even," he grunted, holding back the scream that threatened with each stroke, "And wetter than—" She interrupted his words by guiding his mouth to her breast, urging him to immerse himself on her unattended nipple. Instantly his hungry mouth latched onto it making her yelp and tug him closer. As his sweetheart's tunnel clamped around him, he shivered at its caress and toured her breast lovingly although she squirmed enticingly below him. It drove him to thrust faster, needing release after weeks spent fantasising about this moment.

His words and actions set a frenzied pace within her, her grip on him tightening until fingernails dug into his scalp. A sense of power surged inside her, both stimulating and terrifying her. He was hers now and she was his. She cried out, her voice hoarse from passion, asking her question that hung on the edge of her mind. "Why me?" she wondered aloud, her fingers tangling in his hair, directing him where needed.

As he replied, he increased his tempo, harder than before, reaching towards a blissful eruption, his voice hoarse too and filled with raw need. "Because you were special, different from the others, always asking questions, looking for answers beyond the classroom walls." He hastened his pace, plunging deeper, pushing against the walls of her womb. "And when we first shared that rainy night, I saw glimmers of the woman you'd grow into: intelligent, loyal, sensual. You showed me sides of yourself no other student ever dared. I wanted you then," he admitted between heavy gasps, each word punctuated by the wet slaps of their joining. "Just like this." With their bodies locked, her eyes bore into his, half-closed under the pleasurable wave. Suddenly, she wasn't just a student or casual lover, but his equal, sharing her secrets and souls under the forbidden circumstances.

This revelation lashed the flames of desire within her, igniting new maturity in her eyes. "And I wanted you too," she confessed, moaning louder than ever. Her body quaked as he relentlessly ravished her, delving deeper, faster. His speed and strength paired with newfound vulnerability, exposed far beyond his usual facade, helplessly awakened something primal in her— she wrapped her legs around his waist tighter, meeting each forceful thrust with equal fervour. Her walls contracted around him, milking him, something both foreign and familiar. There was a level of synchronisation developing between them that surpassed mere physical desire. It felt like destiny. "So then why did we wait so long?" she panted breathlessly, teeth clenched in ecstasy. "Why not…?"

The moment suspended in mid-air, heavy with unspoken confessions and built tension. It felt both surreal and somehow… fated. His gaze clouded over, raw love painting his face as he pulled out slowly, just an inch away from plunging back in. He hesitated for the merest moment before confessing truths unshared from their pasts. He didn't need sex. He desired her, as a mere man desired his beautiful belle. "Stupid rules," he rasped out, pursing his lips into a thin line, and thrusting into her once again. "I was torn, scared, and considered my position before you." He glanced deep into her wide eyes, searching for forgiveness or acceptance. "I never thought you'd be this good. You're too good for me." A second later he slammed into her with renewed ferocity, burying himself fully as if trying to merge with her entirely. The sight of her honeyed gaze mesmerised him, she was begging eagerly for his love.

The admission left them both breathless; words spoken between breathy pants, sweaty and tangled together. Their eyes reflected an intensity that transcended simple lust or need. There was raw vulnerability and underlying passion glistening in their gaze which could only explain why they waited so long. But now here they were, making up for lost time.

"Don't say that," she gritted out, her nails scratching against his broad back. Another orgasm ticked closer like a time bomb waiting to explode, ready to obliterate all inhibitions. Despite the intensity coursing through her veins, her mind stayed sharp enough to register his confession. He grunted instantly, eyes met with hers blazing with equal passion. She felt him trembling and shuddering atop her as she pulled him even closer into a passionate embrace. "I never should've waited," she whispered fiercely, hands kneading his muscles.

Every sinew seemed to strain within him, every nerve firing each time they smacked together. "Maybe not," he agreed with a harsh laugh, sweat pearling all over his body under the orange candlelight. Even amidst the chaos, a small smile graced his face. It seemed no matter what happened between them now or later on, they'd share this secret delight together. The mounting pressure nearly exploded under his grip. She was about to crumble beneath him again, yet grasping onto his shoulders strongly, coaxing one more thrust after another. Overwhelmed by their shared passion, he let go completely, surrendering to the primal need that had been simmering within him. His hips rocked faster, harder than ever, filling her up completely and hitting her G-spot repeatedly. A particularly powerful thud caused her to arch her back further into his hold. She whined, her walls clenching around him tightly, hugging him vigorously.

As if sensing her approaching release, he slowed down momentarily, allowing their bodies to sync together perfectly. "Good girl," he groaned, little moans escaping his throat. "You are so fucking good." He loved the way she responded to him, surrendering all control; it fueled him further to push her over the edge. Pulling out abruptly, his cockhead glossed with her juices slid smoothly down her wet entrance before sliding back again. Her wetness coated him generously, inviting him deeper than before. "Please professor…" she pleaded, her voice trembling with desire, need, and perhaps even a hint of vulnerability. "I—" Her moan turned into a high-pitched squeal when he forcefully plunged fully inside her once more.

The sound resonated in his ears, hitting him like a thunderbolt. "No more Professor Sallow," he growled, claiming rightful ownership over her. "It's just Sebastian," he rasped out between heavy breaths. He pounded into her harder than ever, his member almost at its bursting point as he claimed his place within her cunt. The words seeped into her skin as his thrusts turned violent and unhinged. She was so close to climaxing, his sweaty scent and texture of his brown curls on her neck combining intensely with every wild hump. As her orgasm surged closer, Sebastian became her only concern, her saviour amidst this passionate storm. His name, unpolished and raw, came out in a hoarse moan. She could feel him losing control inside her, the pulse of his cock racing against her own heart.

With "Sebastian" replacing "professor," a higher plane of intimacy unfolded. For them both, it wasn't just about climax or release. It was about connection and loving freely without boundaries or judgement. Their eyes locked while their longing healed under moans and passionate whimpers of pleasure. "Sebastian!" She repeated, her voice ragged yet brassy. Every single syllable stirred him completely to his core, almost making him come on the spot. Each gasping breath seemed charged with meaning. Tomorrow they'd have to separate, return to their professor and student roles. But tonight? Tonight they were just him and her, unbridled and bound together.

In sync with her calls of his name, he seized her lips brutally. His kiss was desperate and fierce under mounting passion, echoing his craving for her cunt. "Take me," he panted against her lips, dousing her face with his own desperate sweat.

"Yes…" The single syllable hung between them like a gasping prayer. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, every muscle screaming at him to reach their shared climax soon.

Locked heart-to-heart and soul-to-soul, he banged into her senselessly under heated breaths. "I'm coming soon," he promised, fangs gently nipping at his bottom lip to punctuate the claim. Unable to hold back, all boundaries shattered under their urgency. He pounded even harder now, accelerating through her liquid core until there was nothing left untouched. Fire burned within his veins as she cried out "Seba-se-basti-an!" over and over. In that moment of pure surrender, forgotten boundaries felt like chains falling away. Love was free, love was his bunny burrowed beneath him. "Darling," he whispered raspingly against her lips, biting down gently where he could. "I'm close, don't make me stop," he instructed with an urgency under forgiveness; her surrendering essence would carry him through. In perfect unison, their bodies moved– hers throbbing around him, his spearing her wildly. Her cunt milked him rhythmically, fully aware of his impending release. From somewhere deep within, the memory of Halloween cloaked reality, intertwining with their present shared sinful act. She was fearless under him, a bunny blooming under her wolf's intimate embrace.

As his peak heightened, Sebastian's lips pressed into her neck. "Fucking perfect," came out hoarsely from him. His cock convulsed each time he thrust deeply, feeling rapture underpinned with passion heating his skin. "You feel so good," she gasped under searing pleasure. Her nails dug into his back harder, urging him towards completion. He revelled in her touch, her sweet walls gripping his erection— a throbbing cock quivering on the brink. "Love coming inside you," he confessed. There was no looking back now, they had arrived at the end of their forbidden adventure. "Claiming you where I belong." Every word had a hint of promises being fulfilled, consequences ignored, and exhilaration shrouding them in gold. Gripping her tighter with raw power that stirred the bedsheets, he drove into her with unmatched velocity and stamina until finding firm purchase within her depths.

Just as expected, Sebastian reacted to each of her passionate begs with a primal moan of pure bliss. His hips bucked violently, thrusting faster than thunderous drums reverberating through her core. A massive wave crashed over them both, transforming every fibre of their beings into a sprawled mess. Pulses raced throughout his member, heightening her own orgasm. His cock erupted, distributing thick, hot seed inside her womb, milking out everything he had reserved for her. In a daze, he fell on top of her, panting raggedly. Taking this momentary break, she wrapped her arms around his neck tightly, savouring the feeling of their combined sweat and climax. He shifted his weight, moving slightly to rest his head on her chest, their rhythmic panting synchronising while he kept his cum wedged inside. "Prof— Sebastian," she panted between ragged breaths, her voice still husky with lust. The drums of their pounding hearts beat heavily in sync, pulsing within her ears.

Gently, Sebastian raised enough to look into her blurry, contented eyes. "Thank Merlin for Nurse Blainey," he chuckled softly against her breastbone. His ragged panting slowed but did not fully cease. Her response came in a breathy laugh, pure exhaustion mingling with bliss. "I'm glad she taught me contraceptive potions," she whispered back after a moment. With deep brown eyes holding on to her gaze, Sebastian kissed her softly. A shaky hand balanced his weight as he repeatedly kissed her temple, forehead, and finally her closed eyelids.

With a huff, he slowly withdrew from her cunt. As he slid out, her fluid along with his arousal seeped into the sheets beneath them. Staring at that mess between her thighs, he felt an odd sense of pride— the mark of his lovemaking, his passion for her seeping into every crevice; it was raw, tangible proof of a love beyond societal boundaries. "So pretty," he breathed out and let out a small chuckle before lifting his gaze back to her face painted with both contentment and embarrassment. "What did I tell you?" he asked teasingly, giving her a smile showing promise and warmth all around its edges.

Her pink lips parted, an embarrassed flush spread across her neck as she realised what he meant by 'so pretty.' But before she could comment further, his husky voice continued its flow. "You're so tight, so hot…so wet, even after I've been inside you." He trailed his thumb through their shared mess between her folds, her wetness glistening under candlelight. His words were soft yet a mischievous grin appeared between slow blinks. "I'd do it all again right now if I could," he sighed passionately, tracing loose circles on her flesh.

Unexpectedly, she shyly brought up his hand to her face, rubbing their shared mess between her lips thoughtfully before delicately tasting it on her tongue. The boldness was sudden and powerful, astonishing even him entirely. She blinked when he watched her do this, uncertainty replacing her boldness momentarily. Watching her confidence bubble up again before him took his breath away. Panting heavily from lust but still alert, Sebastian's eyes widened upon seeing her daring actions. Her tongue touched his calloused finger and he couldn't help but be mesmerised at seeing her savour him so shamelessly. "Gods help me," he whispered beneath exhales of satisfaction. The sight burned into his memory with a slow nod of admiration blossoming into his features. “You're worth the heartbreak.”

Seeing her boldness emboldened him even further. Taking advantage of her vulnerability from their passionate encounter, he leaned forward with determination. His large fingers held her chin gently while he planted small, wet kisses along her jawline and her neck, savouring every curve while he still could. Leaning closer, his heart pounded deafeningly against her soft skin. It was a bold action, but his tone wasn't shocking or forceful. Instead, it was punctuated with tender protectiveness. As she sucked on his finger, he whispered. "Tell me, love, how does that taste?" His voice was loving and nurturing as he admired his beauty squirming like a well-fed cat in his bed.

Her lips broke free from his thumb long enough to give a soft, seductive moan before she repositioned her tongue expertly around the digit again. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation of his finger inside her mouth. "Hmmm… Salty followed by a hint of sweetness. Like the ocean or rain." Her response surprised him. She sounded so… knowledgeable and mature. Hand still holding her chin lightly, he removed his finger. Sebastian groaned lowly, attracting her attention to shift back to him. "My turn now," he murmured against her, skimming his lips along hers. Holding her gently, he pulled her closer and locked lips with her passionately. As desired warmth flourished within this intimate encounter, Sebastian skillfully switched positions with her, reminding her of his physical strength. She laid down on him now, still leaking from their lovemaking, oozing love on his thigh.

"You're incredible," he panted against her forehead. His hands moved along delicate curves of her body until resting on her sides while he held onto her intently. As much as he wished not to let go, they had already been here for some time since leaving the Halloween festivities. "When do you have classes tomorrow?" He asked softly, showing the disappointment lurking around his words. The world outside and their schedules weren't so forgiving even after all that had happened tonight.

A sigh escaped her lips but it didn't lessen her smile for him. "Late tomorrow morning," she admitted reluctantly after taking in what he asked. Spooning against her lover, she delicately traced his collarbone while her eyes spoke volumes. She desperately didn't want to leave but time and reality came calling. He sensed the unspoken motive behind her words. "I… can't stay here tonight. I told my friends I was ill and staying in my dorm," she added softly.

Sebastian exhaled deeply, confirming her confession silently. Gently trailing his fingers down the curve of her backside and back up again, he let out a sigh of content mingled with disappointment. She was radiating warmth in more ways than one— for example, the fact that she lied to others so she could give him company. "Understandable," he said gently, yet felt a sting in his heart. He watched her eyes glimmer with suppressed emotion but her love shone through nonetheless. "Just… Please promise me one thing." She tilted her head slightly, giving him a curious expression, meeting his honeyed gaze unwaveringly.

"You're mine now," he whispered hoarsely, his usually stoic exterior briefly dissolving into raw vulnerability. "If there's anything troubling you, you tell me first, all right? You belong to me and I'm yours." His words carried new depth, practically radiating the weight behind them. In response, she leaned in closer, their faces barely an inch apart, their breaths mingling. Looking deep into his eyes, filled with sincerity and love, she nodded. "I promise, Sebastian.”

Sebastian slowly nodded against her smooth skin while still absorbing those final words from the memorable night. Swallowing hard, no mention of yearning or goodbyes passed between them. Decisively planting another soft kiss on her lips, he pledged again without any reservation. "I'll make sure to check on you during breakfast tomorrow." His gaze softened into a hidden promise, one she completely understood despite its subtlety. "We'll find ways… of reconnecting throughout every day," he whispered tenderly against her forehead. It was their private pact— love through duty and secrecy.

They rose from the bed, Sebastian helping her stand by holding her hand. He felt remarkably empty yet full at the same time, as if only half of him will stay in his quarters tonight. "I need you in that costume again," he chuckled gently but with intention. Always, after intimate passion, his professional side arose quickly, reminding him of the need for secrecy. He began assisting her dress up back into it, tugging it in place carefully, standing right behind her at every step. "Just a little more," he reached up cautiously with a crooked smile onto her face. "Can't forget your bunny ears." Her eyes admired him, a mix between gratitude and love visible while he placed her diadem on her head. Watching these final touches, she smiled at him. Their lovemaking was far from his teachings, but still just as caring and nurturing. Draping a delicate, protective arm around her shoulder, Sebastian guided her to his door. He softly opened it to reveal the safe corridor ahead of them. He gazed into her eyes down to her small smile before whispering. "Until tomorrow, sleep well." The twinkle in his eyes signalled their love still hadn't ended. Softly nudging her out first, he gave her permission to leave. “Don't forget your textbook.” With every beat that echoed through Hogwarts’ corridors beneath the crisp autumn's moon, their love grew stronger even if one had to leave behind.

With a tender hug goodbye, she stepped out, leaving behind the safety of his arms. As she disappeared down the corridor in her bunny costume, their hearts felt heavy yet content, basking in the confessions that were spilled in his sheets. The door softly shut behind him, leaving a deep silence. Sebastian let out a deep breath and leaned against the door frame. Her intoxicating scent lingered around and despite him knowing it was fleeting, he held onto it tightly, waiting for the last remnants to fade away. Gathering his composure under heavy darkness, he started getting ready to sleep alone.

In the student dormitories, her door closed firmly behind her innocently bobbing tail. Quiet footsteps echoed softly along the polished wooden floors until her bed welcomed her with a small sigh of relief. Stripping off her costume quickly, she crawled under the covers with heavy eyelids. With the scent of their shared intimacy still fresh and the warmth of Sebastian's cum nested inside her, all she could do was think about their stolen moment together.

On the other hand, Sebastian's night was lonesome but full of love and pride. The imprint of her body on his mattress brought clarity and peace, reminding him of the love that bloomed amongst the heavy panting and squelching of her body. He slept soundly, but not before whispering under his breath, "I'll find a way, my love.”

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