#ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ not requested

[darlingofvalyria]

❝Dragons do not seek permission, niece of mine. Dragons take.❞

[ Betrayal clouds your judgement, for when Jacaerys' indiscretion takes the form of a child, your anger lands in the palm of the Rogue Prince. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 3,412 ] | Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen Niece!Reader, Jacaerys Velaryon x Manipulative Aunt!Reader | this set in an au inside of in hightower green. | this is able to be read as a oneshot.

contains— canon divergence to the second power - an au of an au - targcest, use of 'bastard', infidelity, profanity, revenge, violence, pureblood Valyrian bullshit - thinking about death as a revenge but no suicide/suicidal ideation- angst, smut - two wrongs apparently make a right - mentions of children, pregnancy, childbirth - nsfw: rough sex, biting, degradation, breeding kink, smidge dacryphilia, creampie - no kinslayers, no kings, no betas.

a/n— special thanks to @ahristata and @hiraethrhapsody for kicking my pursuit of this thread!! i woke up (almost literally) to this line of inquiry, & though writing for daemon is difficult, i had a way, way too much fun with this one m'fraid. Ihad so much fun I started laughing at the absurdity. + comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

You can't breathe.

You stand there, your daughters by your sides, no more than five or so name days, dutiful as ever, the princess of the realm— the heir's wife, blindsided. Betrayed. Lied to. And you can't show them your grief, your anger, your shock— you smile, not betrayed, not realised, stupid.

Your act of stupidity protects you, for you can just tell that others, sharp-eyed as they are owning of sharper tongues, calculate the similarities between your husband and the child he is cooing at, at the arms of the Warden of the North's sister.

His bastard fucking sister.

You can't blink away as the facts, the threads, make a beautiful web in front of you. The conclusion is unmistakable. Jacaerys' consistent travels to the North, despite the campaigning for his mother's seat had not required the frequent stretches of long travels. How Aemond had remarked that the bastard is doing twice as much work in doing so, "as he should," Aemond murmurs darkly. "He casts a disgusting shadow on the Iron Throne, 'tis the least he can do."

The insistent of personally greeting the delegates from the North, you thinking it is just his wondrously formed friendship with the Lord Stark, had you dressing up and bringing your girls with him. So that your daughters can meet their father's fucking friend, one that occupied his time when he could have been at home, tending to his duties, his heirs.

And the woman who follows after the Wolf, the bastard Snow, his beloved sister. Dyanna had told you beforehand, as Lord Stark adores his only sibling. Their parenthood is unmistakable, dark hair and sharp chins. A Northern Beauty.

And then you stop, as there is a babe in her arms, no more than two name days at least.

And you see Jacaerys in his gaze.

His beautiful, warm brown eyes in the child in her arms, and as he stands there, your Prince of the Realm, too close for comfort, too close for platonic friendship, a familiarity one cannot deny— and that fucking, sweet-edged, tender smile on his face...

The same one he wore when you had given birth to his daughters. Soiled sheets, bloodied babes— it didn't matter. He held them to his arms with the very same smile, thanking you for birthing his babes.

A gut punch, a sharp inhale, an anger that coils and burns and roars.

Your bastard of a husband had fucked another bastard, and made himself a bastard little fucking family.

Life can ever be so cruel as it is humorous.

Daemon could have laughed at the prediction you found yourself in.

He sits to the left of his wife, the Queen who— in enough of itself, the evidence of the turmoil the court is about to get under, amusingly is talking quick with her Lord Hand; Corlys and Rhaenyra had not stopped pointedly looking at her heir, words too fast but unmistakable what the topic is if their gestures, the knot between their eyebrows, and unmistakable sighs and determined noises.

He, on the other hand, is pointedly staring at you.

You, who tries so hard to piece together an armour of stupidity, an air of nonchalance. As if there is no anger in your visage at your husband's attention completely stolen by Wolf's little sister and her son... who looked completely like him. Dark colouring, the First Men blood thick in his nose, his hair, at the curled edges of his baby-cheeked giggles.

When standing so close, faces to each other, there can be no doubt a mirror.

Or the lovesick smile on the mother's face, watching the Prince of the Realm interact with her son.

Together, the trio of them don't hint as much as a bead of Targaryen blood. One is able to pretend they are nothing more than a small... brown haired family.

Daemon presses his lips, trying desperately not to laugh so loudly.

He admired the boy, truly. Rhaenyra loved each child from her bosom with equal fervor, and Daemon was prepared take him as purely one of his own... but after he broke the betrothal with his daughter (though Baela could give lesser of a shit, though mildly dissatisfied as she was to become Queen, and the girl held her duties between canines) to marry a Hightower cunt... he had distanced himself from the boy.

Daemon viewed it as a sign of weakness, for he knew you. You were just like your mother, prodding into softened parts of his family— that green whore with his brother, young as she had been, his good sister Aemma had not been cold in their memories before she had found herself weightily pregnant with new heirs, and then Jacaerys, new to womanly spells, new to cunt, and you had him making vows in the ways of the dragonlords.

Though he can surmise that much of your mother's movements had not entirely been her own... Daemon knew that calculative look you got in your eye. Blink and it's gone, but your gaze sharpens, your mouth curls in a winning, prideful little smirk.

You were Otto Hightower's granddaughter alright, and you had wanted the Heir's Heir.

But now, it seems like, once a vow broken, it didn't really matter if it was a betrothal or a marriage to Jacaerys.

It brings a sick pull of satisfaction in him, that tugs him to look at you. Every time.

You laugh, tither, still evermore the gem of the feast— a feast you organised with the Lord Hand for your husband's absolutely exceptional diplomatic achievements in the North, truly, Daemon is laughing in the sidelines as the jests and songs make themselves — but Daemon is overtly familiar with dragons. And anger. And you simply stink of it. The way your eye twitches, the occasional grind of your jaw to how your fingers dig crescent moons into your palm. He catches blood in one blink then smeared, then gone, in another.

Your hold onto your armour— the Darling of the Realm, curated so painfully by a young, sly girl moving about the cesspit they call a crown's court — is breaking in pieces and tatters at each hour the feast went on.

It snarls. Like a dragon locked in the pits, tugging at reins, wishing to burn cities.

Maybe you aren't just another Hightower cunt after all.

Not purely at least, he thinks in distaste, staring at the dark green of your gown.

It is a childish tantrum, more than anything, for what is your Hightower green will do now? A bastard has been made, worse, a son. And though Jacaerys himself has muddied blood, he is still a Targaryen. His mother is Queen, prepared to make him an Heir to the Iron Throne as he had been legitimised as Laenor's son. A Velaryon. He bears the name, the crest, and the support of its house.

What is stopping him from marrying the Snow Bastard, legitimising the boy as his own, surpassing your own daughters?

Targaryens marry siblings, they also marry multiple wives.

It is a thought that he can see it dancing in your head— raw, enticing rage and bloodlust that tightens his breeches.

It is an interesting thing.

The green is disgusting, but Daemon can appreciate a young, fertile, Valyrian beauty.

Something your mother had ingeniously provided you and your siblings with, reining in her muddied blood to produce unmistakable Valyrian children. And as a smart little tart, you understood what to do with it.

When Daemon first met you, you were just one of the Hightower spawns that his brother had made to further his line. His brother's daughters—apart from Rhaenyra — were quiet things as babes and children. Odd the two of you were, but not really hostile. When you were introduced to him, your fat babe of a twin brother was teary-eyed and clinging to you, a quiet child with round eyes, staring at him inquisitively, as if challenging.

Then and there, Daemon disliked you so.

Even as you grew, the little of what he could see as he paid no mind of Viserys' other children, you grew up a fine royal, a princess of every word and sung note. Mentions of your progressive fight for the small folk, your charitable heart, your sweet nature that even his brother had made a note once or twice—

He thought it had been Otto Hightower who put you up to such machinations. Wouldn't be below him.

The night you bedded Jacaerys Velaryon, he was pleasantly surprised to find out it had been you all along.

And now here you are, betrayed as you had betrayed his daughter, delicious in your righteous anger and ripe (two babes before the year ended, Jace is an inglorious fool) for the taking. And youthful still. Smooth, soft skin, pretty lips and bright-eyed.

All your scheming, going as far as throwing your grandsire to Oldtown, it is obvious no one has wrangled the clever, spoiled little brat out of you.

As he sips his wine, amused and pleasantly hungry, he muses he might do a job or two of being the strong arm to do so.

He snorts, eyes straying back to the little First Men family.

There it is again. The jest that keeps on giving.

It was pride, truly, that kept you for most of the feast. That kept your gritted teeth to yourself, ducking into corners whenever your anger burned at your eyelids, stubbornly brushing stray tears away.

All is not lost, you stubbornly thought. You just had to plot.

But when Jace had taken your daughters, your Daenera and Aemma, gently tugging them to his bastard whore and his actual bastard to meet— finding your eyes, at that very moment as Daenera's precious, pureblooded hand shyly took the hand of her bastard brother, a fool's tender fucking simpleton of a smile on your husband's face —

Something in your head had snapped. A clean break.

And your armour had fallen. Like limestone from a fortress. Caved in ruins at the pool of your feet. Dark, furious loathe unfurled in your chest. Unable to handle it anymore, you had taken your dress and got out of the feast, for you could feel the urge of unsheathing a sword and going on a bloodied massacre, crowns and titles be damned.

You may not have a dragon, but you have its bloodlust.

Just as you are rushing to your chambers, you stop and make a different turn, knowing that if your husband had caught wind of such an ugly expression on your face, he would try and find you, talk to you, and you don't have the patience to cater to him at the moment— you find what you know of is an empty chamber, reserved for guests at the Keep.

It is a simple room with all the usual accruements. Most of the fanfare, the sheets, are in storage.

You start with a candelabra.

Raise it high before you are violently smashing it against the dresser, shrieks and guttural screams out of your mouth as you tear through the room like a typhoon, cursing Jacaerys, the North, and bastards to the Seven Hells.

None will be the wiser, for you had built your network well. Your spiders will pivot guards and strangers from this area, ensuring you a reprieve where your anger and grief can unfurl and manifest.

So you lose yourself, a dragon untethered. You get so into your rage, quiet in your thoughts, that you don't hear an intruder entering until there is a low, amused laugh too close for comfort.

You whirl around, tear-stained and rage-filled, and though the Rogue Prince expects you to fall into stutters, your eyes slit and you grip— when had you picked up a tome? — the tome tighter to your chest, snarling, "Get out."

Instead of surprise, or even offense, Daemon laughs as if you are the most amusing thing to him all night. Jesters and whores alike.

"I shall not." He makes a noncommittal hum around the dark room. "I rather like it here. It seems this chamber holds a much better entertainment than anything beheld at the feast."

You let out a dark, incredulous laughter. "I have no time for your toying, uncle, get out!" You toss the tome with fervour, but he's a warrior and he anticipates your anger, sidestepping easily before he's back to casual prowling.

"I do not have time to play jester for your entertainment," you hiss, unable to stop the hateful tears from spilling, brushing them away harshly as you watch him watch you.

He raises an eyebrow. "I am not asking you to."

"Are you here then for my humiliation? Press a bitter wound while it's still bleeding, is that it? Is that what would make the glory of your night?"

He snorts. "What would make the glory of my night is a warm body and a tight cunt."

Your face scrunches. "You are disgusting."

He barks out a laugh. "Not as disgusting as your brother."

"Aegon is no longer—"

"— or as stupidly naive as your husband."

A sharp intake of breath before you're once more cracking in broken rage and ghastly pain.

"Of course you would notice, who would not, he looks so much like his fucking bastard."

"Watch yourself, girl," he barks. "You are still talking about the Queen's heir."

A beautiful guard dog, you think, you snort. You push past him, gasping into the crisp, cool air, holding onto the balcony for dear life.

"His already diluted blood makes this conversation entirely hilarious to me I'm afraid." You look down and wonder how fast you will fall. How messy would such a death be? How much care there is left in your wake? Will your husband even care, now that he has his heir? Borne out of true love no doubt, despite such bastardly blood— or is that what makes it thrilling for them?

Mangled bone, spread thin blood— if you die such a way, it should be pretty. You hope it haunts the Keep of so many before you.

But if you die now, you will be replaced so easily. So prettily.

And your daughters—who will care for them? Will Jacaerys even care, if his bastards soon no doubt fill your once home, your mother, your brothers— your daughters pushed aside to make way for fucking dogs.

There is no satisfaction in such a plan.

There are many others.

The Rogue Prince makes his presence known by standing close to your back, close enough that you can smell him, that his heat is your own, as he hums, peering below as you have.

"Have you been drinking, zaldrītsos little dragon?" he whispers, tangling his fingers through your hair, running a lone finger down your neck, up and down in a tantalising movement. You can't help it, it feels comforting, leaning close to it despite such a breathy huff out of your lips.

"Since when am I dragon, kepus uncle? Haven't you always likened us muddied blood, filthier than dragonseeds?"

"I see that I am wrong," he says, almost idle as if he isn't devouring you in his gaze. How you feel soft, pliant under one finger after weighted in wine and the ruins of your anger, how you're almost purring and sweet like this, your fire alive but consistent. "Aōha perzys burns jehikagrī. Nyke hae ziry. Your flames burn bright. I like it."

"Hm. You've had sons, don't you uncle?"

"I have," he replies, amused.

"And many a children." You reach for his chin, your thumb rubbing his bottom lip. He's old, sure, but men don't have the same bodily issues as women. You know he could reach your father's age and be able to produce five more brats.

But his shoulders are strong, spry only as a swordsman can be.

And he isn't like he's loyal to Nyra, turning fully to you with a hand caressing your side.

His hand comes for your neck, halting your movement as he tests a squeeze. There is only much hatred as there is lust. And his cock is winning over his mind, for when your free hand, watching him intently, reaches for the hardness straining against his breeches, giving it a stroke, his breath stutters into a groan whilst his hips push into your hand.

"Dragons do not seek permission, niece of mine," he hums darkly. "Dragons take, or do you have too much of your Hightower cunt of a mother that you—"

You curl your hand over his cock until his breath hitches.

"I want a son. Surely you'd rather want for your true blood to sit on the Iron Throne? Your wife would remain Queen, her and her heir none the wiser. Any son of mine would be King regardless." Your voice is barely above whisper, stroking him as your squirm in his hold, his breath heavy by each promise, each tale you spin so tall. "Wouldn't you like that better? I am a Targaryen, as are you. Our blood would be pure."

"I have pureblooded sons, riñītsos little girl."

"But will they be king? With my husband as your wife's heir?" When his hold softens on your throat, you push yourself forward, pressing yourself against him. "Wouldn't you want your family's legacy, your legacy, unsullied with prettier blood?

"I want a son, uncle," you whimper, thickened with need and desire, willing him to bend and fold because men like Daemon are easy, because a loving marriage is one thing, a man who holds his house as his pride in another fist is another. "I want your seed to take root in me."

And it isn't like you're asking him to betray his Queen.

Daemon is surprisingly a soft lover, prone in a way to worshipping you even as you had gotten impatient and tried to get your way. His punishments are quick and precise, a hit on your thigh, a tighter squeeze in your throat, a firm bite in your breast enough to draw blood. He's soft but by choice, almost as if he is amusing you in each caress while one hand is holding you by your hair, fucking you down into the sheets.

His words aren't better, spun in hisses and spits, mocking laughter and groans.

"Do you want my seed, you little whore?"

"What would your husband say now, his pretty wife mewling for another? Or would he even care?"

"Your tears are pretty, if you want my seed, I think you need to be sobbing, hm?"

When he finally spills inside of you with nothing less of a broken, guttural roar, hips chasing the high, meeting your sensitivity once, twice, again— you are shattered in pieces and contradictions, floating and wide awake, pleasured and in pain.

He slaps your face gently after he's cleaned himself up, tucked his flaccid cock back in his breeches as he comes to your eye line. "Come to me again when you want my seed, hm? I shall prioritise your wants for the good of the realm but I dare say—"

He cocks his head with a smirk, feeling stirrings at the sight of your fucked out state, his seed spilling from your pretty hole that he can't help himself as he chases it with a finger, forcefully pushing it back in while your body trembles and twitches.

"— you may be with child soon enough, niece. I shall congratulate you and my son with the happy news."

Your eyes flutter close at the echoes of his disappearing footsteps.

Nine moons later, through a hearty, blood-soaked birth that rocked the keep with your wails of pure pain— much more painful than when your girls had come into the world — a baby boy is born of pure Valyrian colouring.

A fat babe who cried murder in his first seconds of life, and it is Caraxes who snarls and screeches into the high noon sky.

"I shall name him Daemon," you say to your husband beside you as you beheld the babe with a wondrous smile and a full heart.

"After your brother and my father," Jace says, smiling. "That is wonderful, my wife. He does look much like them."

Your smile curls, a finger rubbing your babe's fat cheek. "He does. And he will be strong swordsman." Your lashes flutter to Jace, poisoned vowels in each word that he blinks, startled. "Just like his father."

TAGGED @inkareds @marihoneywk @caterina-caterina @ahristata @xxvelvetxxxx @but-i-write-so-i-must-count @bunbunbl0gs @yazzzmints @bellstwd @hiraethrhapsody @watercolorskyy @fulla02 @menaosama @cookielovesbook-akie

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen fanfiction #daemon fanfic #daemon smut #daemon targaryen smut #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd smut #daemon targaryen x you #elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒 #₊˚ପ⊹ hightower green 🕷 #-ˋˏ ༻addendums & extras 💮༺ ˎˊ- #🌼━━･❪ requested ❫ ･━━🌻

[amournoir]

Happy valentines sweet Aurora ♡♡

I want to request a chains and whips with Elijah ♡♡ (of course) & add some sugar daddy spice if you don't mind.

Ruined

pairing(s): elijah mikaelson x f!reader

count: 5.5k

warning(s): smut {boob/nipple play, spanking, anal gaping, toys, vulgar words?}

author’s note: ahhh lovie! thank you so much for the request, i truly hope you enjoy it. i love you so much 🤍

It was the day Y/N dreaded the most. The one day of the year that everyone collectively somehow agreed to show their love to their partners. It was the day money would be wasted on the same old roses, same tooth rotting chocolates, and same oversized teddy bears. If you haven’t guessed it yet, it was Valentine’s Day. 

Y/N groaned as she rolled around in her bed, trying to figure out what she’ll do. Being outside was absolutely not an option, the last she wanted was a front row view of the disgusting displays of affection. No she wanted something simple yet exciting, not public but also would be okay with some privacy. She smirked as her head concocted a beautifully sinful idea. She rolled over to the head of her bed and reached over her nightstand, grabbing her phone all the while. She quickly unlocked it and sent a text all in less than a minute. She waited what felt like ages but was probably a minute or two before her phone beeped. She grinned at her plan that was working so far. 

Half an hour later, she was getting dressed in front of her mirror. She put on the skimpiest, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination, white lingerie set. Her deep plunging skintight dark maroon dress choked her curves in all the right places. She topped it off with the classic black stilettos that had red bottoms. After appreciating her figure, she grabbed her phone and shoved it in one bra then her keys and shoved it in the other one. 

It took her almost twenty minutes to get there but she convinced herself that it’d be okay. It’s better to be fashionably late than early or godforbid on time. Y/N got out of her taxi cab and walked down the brightly lit streets of the French Quarter. Music, cheers, and laughter could be heard before you saw what was happening. As she knew it, couples were standing around being lovey and gross. She made a face as she quickly walked down the street towards the most notorious family home. A bouncer stopped her at the front, she merely pulled out her phone from her bra and pressed the recently dialed number. The man over the phone spoke a simple ‘she’s fine’ and the bouncer let her in. 

Y/N hung up and walked in through the metal gates, the music was getting louder and louder at every step she took. Soon she stood in the courtyard, surrounded by exotic dancers in valentine’s attire. She looked around and noticed how obvious the theme was and instantly knew a certain blonde girl was behind this whole party. A waiter passed her by and she reached for the glass of champagne before he left, downing it instantly and grabbed another glass. 

“Easy love, you’ve only just arrived.” There was that charming accent she somewhat loathed. 

Y/N smiles politely then downed the other glass like a shot, not-so-politely. “Stalking me already?” 

He smirks at her slight defiance, “Perhaps. Or maybe the party’s just got here.” He offers his elbow. 

She smiles at him and hurriedly places her two empty glasses on the other waiter’s trays before he walks away. She turns to face him then looks down at his arm. She shrugs and loops her arm through his, he begins dragging her around the compound. They chit chat briefly on useless topics, occasionally Y/N scans the room but this doesn’t go unnoticed by him. 

“Already bored of me love?” He feigns offense, placing his hand over his chest. 

Y/N quickly looks at him, caught red handed by him due to her lack of interest. “No. Just wondering where the rest of your family is. It’s your party isn’t it?” 

“Actually it’s Rebekah’s, something she’s been sure to let everyone know.” He leans against the metal railing as he looks down into the crowd. “Kol is somewhere here with Davina and I suppose my brother is in his office brooding as usual.” 

“He doesn’t brood.” Y/N quickly retorts without thinking. 

“Oh?” He smiles, his interest now piqued. “Tell me then. What does he do?” 

“I don’t know, I just don’t think he broods.” Y/N lies. 

The man stares at her for what seems like a long while, trying to decipher the thoughts ping ponging around her head. “So once again…” Klaus leans much closer to her, his breath fanning against her ear. “…what, pray tell, does my dear older brother do?” 

Y/N opens her mouth to respond but all that comes out are stutters so she quickly closes it. She tries to move aside but his figure is larger than hers and easily blocks her exits. She’s left with nothing to do but lean on the stone wall behind her, placing her palms flat against it hoping its coolness might relax her now racing heart. Her mind is speeding through different directions, trying to figure out how to leave him without angering him or dragging attention to herself. 

Klaus watches as she tries to find ways to escape, he can hear the quickening pace of her heart. He smirks and opts to startle her by slamming his hand on the wall, right next to her face. She jumps alert, her hand flying to her chest. He chuckles at her reaction, gaze lingering on her plunging neckline. He uses his free hand to slide up her belly towards her breasts, stopping just short of the actual cleavage area. His eyes flick upwards to hers and he catches her watching him, with a cheeky smile, he drags his hand further up until it stops on the base of her neck. 

“Such a pretty neck.” He says so very casually. His fingers wrap around it and Y/N lets out a sudden groan. “Is this perhaps what he does?” 

Y/N doesn’t know if she should even answer that. She remains quiet and hopes he’ll grow bored of her nonparticipation eventually. Before she can utter a word, a voice is heard from her left hand side. “Leave her.” 

Klaus smirks and tightens his grip around Y/N’s neck. “Brother. We were just talking about you.” 

“I won't say it again Niklaus.” 

The hybrid reluctantly releases Y/N, raising his arms up, and takes a step back. He continues to step away, still that smug smile on his face, until he’s further away from her and gone. Y/N lets out a heavy breath she wasn’t aware she had been holding onto. 

“Are you alright?” 

She feels around her throat, massaging the slightly reddened skin. She nods as she looks at him. “Thank you.” 

“You shouldn’t thank me. I would’ve let him continue just so I could hear your answer but something tells me you’d sooner blackout.” 

You turn and face him, an incredulous look on your face, “You— really?” 

He merely shrugs. “Consider me curious my dear.” He walks, no stalks, slowly toward her and abruptly stops in front of a pair of closed french doors. Wordlessly, he ushers her in and waits until she’s inside to shut the frosted glass doors behind them.  

Y/N stands in the middle of the guest bedroom, taking in the view. It’s a normal room with a bed, a nightstand, a plush seat and dresser but it doesn’t look like it at all. There are old paintings on the wall, the decor such as the rug and curtains are from a different time period. It’s like sleeping in a room bathed in history but existing in the present. 

This was why she enjoyed being around the family. The things they’ve seen and heard are far more valuable to her than anything in existence. It’s actually how she and the older Mikaelson met. A year ago she had been gifted museum tickets for her birthday and there was no chance she’d pass it up. She was quick to book a date at the location and when the day came, she was ready. You’d think she was a tourist with the armful of pamphlets and a camera hanging around her neck. She wasn’t even aware of the existence of supernatural beings until that day. Y/N and him found each other in the halls of the Louvre; she was admiring longingly for a time that wasn’t hers and he was reminiscing a time he missed. 

Y/N was utterly lost in her imagination that she didn’t hear a lick of what he said. He had to physically touch her to pull her out of the spell the tapestries had her in. She apologized, embarrassed by her lack of awareness, and he smiled at her ability to shut out the world, something he was quite good at. Their conversation was long, she had questions and he somehow seemed to have all the answers. Something about her interest and thirst for history fueled him, so much so that he straight up told her how he knew what he knew. Her reaction was peculiar. She wasn’t afraid, she wasn’t impressed…she simply just didn’t know how to feel. 

Over the days she spent in France, he showed her all the memorable places especially where the history was rich. She walked through halls that once withheld so much power of kings and queens, lands that once belonged to the people who would ignite the revolutionary wars. Her body was giddy with excitement as her imagination ran wild listening to his stories. He loved how she appreciated and adored history, this would perhaps explain why he kept her very close to him. In over a thousand years, it was a rare occurrence that he met someone like her. When her trip was done, she left with a journal full of French history and her mind full of the supernatural. 

They met monthly, speaking of quite literally anything until one night there was far less talking than they were each used to. She was out celebrating a friend’s engagement, had far too much to drink and no clue how to get herself home safely. Without a thought, she dialed his number and minutes later he pulled up in a matte black car and his signature suit. Her friends truly thought he was hers and she would’ve quickly corrected them but her drunken state mixed with slight desire had her possessively holding onto his arms. Somehow that wasn’t enough for one of the women, she dared try to have a flirty banter with him, something Y/N wasn’t going to allow. Once again, with no thought behind those eyes of hers, she turned in his arms and kissed him. That small decision changed their relationship completely. 

“I’ve lost you again.” His voice pulls her from her memories. 

“Hm– what? No.” 

He raises his full thick brow at her, “Alright then answer me.” 

Mute…that’s what she became. She didn’t hear a damn thing he said, she didn’t even know he was talking. Her brain tried to remember the last thing he said before they entered the room but nothing came to her. She sighs and looks at him, “Okay fine, guilty. What was the question?” 

He crosses the room from the french doors to her spot next to the painting above the fireplace. Gently, he tucks her hair behind her ear and admires her. He pulls her face close to his until they are mere inches apart, lips almost brushing against each other’s. Y/N was practically salivating, her not-so-subtle gulp drew his eyes to her throat. “What do I do…” He begins, then continues and clarifies, “…to you?”

“This.” She quickly replies, hoping he’d give her what she came for. 

“What exactly is ‘this’?” He asks but knows exactly what she meant. He just wants to hear the words from her lips. 

Y/N’s gaze holds his, forcing herself not to look away or falter even for a moment. “Heard, seen, cared for, and so on.” 

He smiles sweetly and takes a step back from her, giving her a moment to breathe and relax herself. Once his senses pick up on the resting beat of her heart, he uses his vampiric abilities to grab her and take her to his room. In a blur, she is on his bed and tossed on her back, the silk sheets beneath her felt familiar and soft. Her eyes widened but not in surprise or shock, not at all, in absolute joy. She tries to pull herself up into a seated position but he’s quick to push her back down. 

“Now where did we leave off?” 

“I answered you already.” 

“My dear you and I both know that’s not the complete truth. Shall I ask again?” He questions, reaching over into the drawers of the nightstand for something. He hides it behind him, enjoying how her eyes flicker around in anticipation. 

“I don’t…I don’t know what you want me to say.” She lies seamlessly, shaking her head all the while. She had been in his room several times but never once had she looked for an escape like now. Even if she did manage to somehow get out of the room, she’d barely make it one step down the hall before he hauled her right back inside. 

“Hmm.” He hums, still holding that little smile. “I suppose I’ll just have to drag it out of you.” 

“Elijah wait—” She begins but her words are quickly cut off. In yet another blur, her hands are bound in handcuffs above her head to the headboard posts, same with her legs. Her skintight dress stretches and naturally rolls up, settling on her hips. 

The man reaches back to her zipper and expertly slides it down. His hands slowly tug and pull the dress off of her, leaving her in her skimpy white lace lingerie. Elijah sucks in a sharp breath, his pupils slowly dilating. She looks utterly sinful right now. Her arms and legs are spread apart in four different directions, leaving her completely helpless and exposed to him. He takes off his tie, undoes his cufflinks, unbuttons his wrist cuffs, and undresses himself torturously slowly. 

Y/N could do nothing but watch him tease her with his impromptu trip show. He removes every bit of clothing except his underwear that was hugging his firm ass. “Take it off.” Y/N demands, already hot and bothered just from his stripping. 

He smirks and ignores her as he gets onto his bed, settling down between her spread legs. The bag he had retrieved from the drawer had lots of goodies, all of which he knows she’ll appreciate. He removes them one by one, showing it off. First up is a pair of nipple clamps. He reaches up to her covered mounds and pinches each one, earning himself a moan from Y/N’s lips. He doesn’t remove the bra but instead opts to pull the breasts from their confines and they spill out into his hands. Slow gentle massages is all she can feel, his cool palms on her hot flesh makes for a delicious combination. Right as she’s comfortable, he pinches one nipple and pulls at it, snapping the metal clamp on it then repeats to the other one. Once done, both clamps are firmly placed on her hardened buds, there’s a metal chain attached to each clamp. 

Elijah admires her new piece of jewelry and playfully tugs on the chain, eliciting a groan from Y/N. Proud of himself but still not satisfied, he continues on. The second item is a small red oval shaped thing. She’s confused but before she can ask, he presses a button on it and it buzzes to life. Oh no. She knew he had once mentioned this but only because he caught her masturbating, she didn’t think he’d ever purchase it though. There’s not much he wants to do with it but he thinks that it will prepare her for him so he turns it to a medium setting, slightly lifts her panties aside and inserts it into her already wet cunt. 

There are still several more items in the black bag but he only grabs two more then tosses the plastic bag on the dresser. Her eyes damn near pop out of their socket as they stare at the long incredibly girthy dildos in his hands. Earlier that night, she had no plans but didn’t want to be alone so she may or may not have texted him asking to be thoroughly satisfied and who was he not to indulge her. This is how she found herself at her current state completely at his mercy. 

“One last time Y/N.” He begins, a hint of warning in his voice. “What do I do to you?” 

Stubborn as a mule, she refuses to answer but all this does is solidify his reasoning to punish her. He nods his head, he knew she wouldn’t answer him but he had to make it clear that he had given her several chances. Elijah’s fingers trace over the band of her panties, Y/N’s body jumps at the contact. She had been quietly mewling, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of giving in. He rips it in half then in half again, scattering the tiny cloth now in pieces over the side of his bed. 

Her bare pussy was now fully exposed to him. It has a light pink color to it and swollen, shaven but not fully, it had a stubble. He watched how her muscles would contract to try and pull the little red toy inside its depths yet fail each time. At the same time, her ass clenched as well, he could see the puckered hole tightly shut. He wasn’t having that. His fingers played with her clit, pulling a moan from her lips and making her muscles relax for a split second but that’s all he needed. The instant her asshole opened, he teased the tip of the clear dildo at the entrance. 

“Open or I will make you.” This was a command, not a request. 

“Eli please, not that.” She says, her heaving chest and heavy breath clear. “It’s big— just put it in my pussy instead.” 

He chuckles in a low yet devious manner. He moves his left hand from her clit and to her ass cheeks, soothingly rubbing the plump flesh. His other hand places the toy down and joins in. Soon Y/N’s lips are releasing sounds of sighs and just like that, she feels a loud thwack on her rear side. She had closed her eyes for a moment to enjoy what she thought was him being sweet but he had somehow managed to unlock her bound legs and lift them upwards. He pushes them to her chest, almost folding her in half. 

Her ass was now easily accessible to him. Another thwack was heard, this time leaving an impression of his hand on her rear. One hand is holding her legs firmly in place while the other begins to slap her asshole and pussy. An ungodly sound emits from her lips but all it does is spur him on. He slaps both holes once again, she clenches then relaxes. This little game carries on for a while until she’s a writhing, moaning mess for him. During it, he had turned up the vibration speed of the toy inside her and to his surprise, her body squirted at him. She apologized but he grinned, eyes filled with lust. 

Now here she was: thighs covered in her previous squirts, pussy swollen and red, and his lower abdomen with traces of her little release. Her begging and pleading only made him want to ruin her some more and oh the plans he had for her. Elijah has been paying close attention to her hole which was now relaxed, he takes the opportunity to insert the clear toy. It’s a tight fit but he was determined to take her one way or another, if he wasn’t in control of himself, he’d just shove inside her and deal with the consequences later. But thankfully that wasn’t the case. 

Y/N moans as the toy continues its nonstop vibrating assault inside her. In a moment of brief relaxation, she feels the dildo enter her uncharted territory. Her eyes fly open as she lifts her head up and looks down between her thighs. Elijah locks eyes with her as he smirks, pushing the toy all the way inside, and sighing proudly. Y/N is speechless. She’s never had anything in there until today and something tells her this won’t be a one-time thing. Slowly and steadily, he thrusts the clear toy inside her tight crevice and out, continuing this pace for a while. 

Once he is sure she’s ready, he practically rips his own underwear off and lines himself up. The toy has a feature that Y/N is unaware of and Elijah is more than happy to show off. He presses a button and almost immediately, it comes alive and thrusts itself in and out of her. Fully pleased with himself, he smiles gleefully and replaces the little red toy inside her pussy with his own cock. 

“Fuck!” Y/N exclaims, unaccustomed to being double penetrated. 

Elijah doesn’t give her a moment to breathe, his thumb presses on her clit as he thrusts in and out of the familiar wetness. His right hand is holding one of her legs around his waist, offering him a slightly different angle. All that can be heard in the room is the vibrating toy in her ass, the squelching sounds of him fucking her, and their combined moans. In all of the centuries he had been alive, he’d never once done this and it was arousing as fuck to him. The thin flesh separating her two holes made it incredibly easy for him to feel the vibrations as well. 

Her eyes roll back to her head, lips are parted, face is scrunched, and her rather large tits bounce at each impact of his thrusts. She writhes around the silky mattress, whining and moaning about. He can feel her getting closer to her release and he wants nothing more than for her to come undone. 

He leans forward, dropping her leg from his waist, further burying himself inside her. “Let go for me sweetheart.” It’s a simple sweet sentence but it has her calling out his name as her squishy pink walls squeeze his cock tightly, groaning out her release. “Good girl,” He whispers softly in her ear, kissing it. He stays still within her, letting her come down from her high and basking in her pleasure brought on by him. 

After a sweet moment of sweet nothings being whispered between them, he pulls himself up and abruptly exits her core. His precum mixes with hers and he watches it leak out slowly. He lowers his head, settling between her thighs and begins to lick up her juices, humming against her cunt. He slurps and drinks it all, his tongue enters and sucks as much as he can reach. Y/N tugs on the cuffs on the posts, finding it infuriating that she can’t push him closer or away for that matter. Elijah chuckles at the sight, he loves seeing her bound and weak and needy for him. He dives back down and swirls his tongue around her clit, nipping at it very gently but that’s all it takes to make her come undone once again. He eagerly tilts his head down to her pussy, allowing her cum to slide into his mouth and down his throat. 

“You taste absolutely divine.” He moans, sucking in his teeth. He positions himself again and grabs his member in his hand, tapping it on her overly sensitive hole. “Round two my dear?” 

“Eli I can’t— please. It’s too much.” She pleads, her breath trembling in anticipation. 

“Is it?” He muses teasingly. “Tell me what I want to know.” 

“And I can go? We’ll be done?” She asks. 

He flicks at her swollen clit and her hips jerks upwards, a gasp escaping her lips. He does it again then again and before he can do it one more time, she blurts out. “You make me wet.” 

He smiles, “Continue.” 

“Every time I see you, I can’t stop thinking of you fucking me. It doesn’t matter where we are or who is there. Your pet names for me…make me soaking wet. When I see couples— I…I imagine it to be us, doing all the things they do, especially the sex. When we’re alone in a room, I have to fight the urge to pounce on you.” Y/N confesses, a glimmer of softness and desire evident in her eyes. “That’s what you do to me. You make me hungry for you and…” She pushes her hips towards his, holding his gaze. “…I want you to ruin me. Please Eli— have me however you desire.” 

Elijah leans towards her face and gently kisses her, it’s slow and loving. They make out passionately for a moment, his hands tracing her curves. They stop and look into one another’s eyes, saying nothing yet everything at the same time. He kisses her again, mumbling softly against her lips, “I’ve been waiting 8 months for that. Fucking your sweet little pussy continuously for days and weeks on end.” His tongue licks her jawline, tracing to her ear. “You’ve always been mine but I’m more than willing to break you and mold you into my perfect toy.” 

If someone could cum just from words, Y/N would turn his bed into a pool. He kisses his way down from the shell of her ear to her neck then the valley of her boobs, tugging the nipple clamps, down to her sweaty belly and her warm nether regions. He fixes their positions: he’s on his knees in front of her ready holes and she’s laying on her backside, arms bound in cuffs, and her legs are lifted up and over her chest, her knees practically touching her shoulders. 

Elijah hocks some saliva from his throat, letting the slobber drip out from his mouth and directly into her asshole that is open thanks to his right hand fingers. Y/N stares at the erotic scene before her and accidentally queefs. He chuckles at the bodily reaction but she groans in embarrassment. He spits into her open hole one again, ensuring she’s well prepped. 

“Wait, there again?” She asks, watching him looming over her. 

“It’s such a pretty hole Y/N, why would I ever pass the opportunity to defile it?” 

“But you did Eli— the dildo?” She says but she knows damn well a fake dick versus his are absolutely not the same. 

“Darling if anything is going to ruin that tight virgin asshole of yours, it’ll be my fucking cock.” Elijah says, grunting as he manages to push himself halfway through. With another grunt, he fully bottoms out and sighs. 

He remains inside her ungodly tight anal cavity, his cock feels as though it’s being choked. He tries to pull out but nothing, even with all that saliva and him fucking her with that toy, she’s not any looser. It takes a little while for him to pull himself in and out of her cavern without ripping her a new one. He dislikes this slow pace but he knows he must loosen her up first so he keeps at it until soon she’s moaning and her muscles relax. 

In no time at all, he buries himself in her to the hilt, and pulls out then does it again and again. Y/N had never seen the pleasure in having anal sex but now she craved nothing else. The constant pounding that was occurring inside her walls was making her deliriously happy. Her lips are parted, gasping and moaning, if you squint you could hear the panting as well. Her head is tossed back, a show of her surrender to his onslaught work. Elijah had long forfeited the idea of gentleness, his heightened senses were turning him primal. He grabs both of her legs, his fingers digging into her thighs, as he rides her asshole at an inhumane speed. Her pleas and cries were falling on deaf ears, he only sought after his own release. 

She cums and moans loudly, her body convulsing underneath him. Still he doesn’t stop and truthfully she doesn’t want him to. She is beyond overstimulated but something in her mind snaps and makes her want more. She is hungry for him, to become whatever he wishes. His movements has the bed rocking and creaking, he has never been so aggressive but fuck if it wasn’t hot. One hand reaches for the chain and tugs on it, pulling at her clamped nipples. Y/N squeals in surprise, she thought those were simply for his visual pleasure. He tugs again and again, enjoying the yelps falling off her lips. 

Elijah’s eyes were pitch black, fully consumed by his desire for her. His hands are back on her thighs and his body is pressing down on hers. The closer he moves to her, the deeper his thrusts into her ass are. He maneuvers around so that his left hand hikes her thigh over his waist while his right hand holds onto her neck. He squeezes it, watching her eyes flutter shut. His breath is fanning her ear as he whispers words of encouragement with some good old filth. 

“Your asshole is wrapped tight around my cock princess, so needy aren’t you?” 

She merely nods, unable to utter any words or even think. 

He bites her earlobe, groaning into it as he continues to pound into her. “I’m close Y/N. I’ll fucking paint those walls cream.” 

“Fuck yesss. Do ittt,” She drawls, utterly spent yet still willing to take more. 

He immediately tightens his grip on her neck, “Manners.” 

“Sorry daddy. Please please cum in my ass, fill it up please.” Y/N begs, her words strained. 

“Daddy?” He says, tasting the unfamiliar word on his tongue. He grins widely and rails her with renewed vigor. “I can work with that.” 

Y/N’s hands grab onto her binds tightly, afraid that it’ll break any moment due to Elijah’s unrelenting powerful thrusts. He lets out a deep guttural moan and stills inside her, his cock twitching before exploding inside the furthest depths of her uncharted hole —well until now— and covers every inch in his warm cream colored cum. She squeals at the foreign sensation, she can feel him inside and even his release which warms her. 

He kisses her ears, her cheek, her chin, and lastly her lips, swallowing her moans. His left hand unwraps her leg from his waist and slips in between them, finds her clit and uses his vampiric speed to rub it quickly. Y/N’s soft cries are muffled by his mouth, she tightens her legs around him and he takes the simple signal. His fingers continue their work until she’s coming on his hand once again. He manages to make her squirt once more, her moans fall uncontrollably from her lips. 

He pulls out of her hole, groaning all the while, and collapses on top of her. She tries to regain her breathing, her chest rising and falling quickly. Elijah reaches over the nightstand to retrieve the key, unlocking her cuffs. Y/N sighs in relief, massaging her wrists gently. He takes her hands and peppers soft kisses on the red marks. With a lot of effort, she grunts and rolls herself over, laying on his shoulder. She wraps her arms around him loosely, lacking the strength to hold on. He simply smiles and drapes her leg over his waist, pulling her close to him. 

“How do you feel?” He asks, genuinely wanting to know if she is alright. 

“A bit sore…” She answers then groans as she tries to tangle her legs with his. “…okay make that very sore.” 

He places a soft kiss on her shoulder then cheek then her forehead. His hand runs down from her neck to the base of her spine in a soothing manner. “Did I hurt you?” 

She shakes her head, touched by how loving and sweet he is during aftercare. “Not at all. It was just new.” 

He smiles and looks down at her, she looks so peaceful and also thoroughly fucked. “I’m glad. We’ll continue in ten minutes, I want to fuck your ass again from behind so I can watch it jiggle.” 

Y/N groans at his lewdness, “Such a dirty mouth.” 

He chuckles, his hand massaging her ass cheek gently. “Only for you.” 

“How about thirty minutes? I need a tiny nap.” She asks, eyes closed as she’s slowly lulled to sleep by her fatigued body and his cool one. 

Elijah whispers an ‘okay’ in her ears just before she’s fully asleep. He holds her tightly close to him, caressing her body softly as he too takes the moment to relax. The party outside in the compound is still going. He can vividly hear the music and occasionally picks up on the conversations. The moonlight is shining brightly into his room, illuminating everything. He takes one last look at Y/N’s now sleeping figure and smiles, kissing her head softly before fully relaxing into the pillows behind him. He shuts his eyes, ready to be swept away by the tidal waves of dreams pertaining to him and her.

🏷️ taglist:

⤷ @catmikaelson20 @elijahmikaelsontrash @hopes-wife @klaustopia @klausysworld @loverswillowed @moremaybank @miasmultifandomdump @mrs-maximoff-kenner @multiversediaries @mxacegrey @original-siphon @onlyfreds @panic-at-the-fiction @ranising @slinthoex @spike-and-angels-gf @spnandtvdudeservedbetter @thatfanficstuff @thatfictionalwh0re @wholoveseggs @drewstarkeyslut @drudyslut @jjsbank444 @moremaybank @rafetopia @sweetestdesire @tinyluvs {lmk if you’d like to be added to the taglist!}

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#˗ˏˋ 𝐯-𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝟐𝟒´ˎ˗ #request 💌 #aurora.r works #elijah mikaelson x y/n #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson smut #elijah mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson x y/n #klaus mikaelson x reader #the mikaelsons #the originals

[sageteapost]

| Welt Yang Dating Headcanons |

[ Welt Yang x GN! Reader ]

CW/TW + Tags: None. (Established relationship. GN! Reader.)

Summary: Basic HCs of dating Welt Yang from Honkai: Star Rail.

[ (A/N): YEAHH WELT!! Old men yall. I swear. ]

Ah, Mr. Yang. Sophisticated, but bears a gentle side.

For starters, he's sweet and loving when it comes to you. Perhaps even a tad bit protective especially if you went on Trailblazer missions.

Hurt yourself on a mission? Sit down, he'll take care of you whilst either mildly scolding you or distracting you from the pain with other lighthearted topics. Depends on the mood and/or the severity of your injuries.

A very classy lover, definitely into calling you things like "sweetheart" or "dearest", preferably behind closed doors. Otherwise he'd settle for just calling you by your name around the Express.

But he's open to some new things! The galaxy is very vast, after all.

Gentle and tender when it comes to affection. While Welt loves kissing your lips, he has a particular soft spot for kissing your forehead and hands.

He's not too into PDA, but the closest he'll get is holding your hand or standing close to you. Maybe occasionally giving you a forehead kiss if he feels cheeky. Just because he isn't into it, doesn't mean he won't feel a bit bold every once in a while!

Ask him about his animations or to even show them to you and he'll be trying so hard to keep his happiness to himself.

Willing to talk to you about them for hours, like the creative process of creating his animations to talking about the history of animation in general. (If it exists, he would love to watch "The Pixar Story" in his spare time.)

Will draw you in his spare time. Doesn't matter what you're doing; cleaning, drinking something, or even just staring out the windows of the Express looking at the cosmos. Anything, and he will always show you his art afterwards.

Overall, he's a very kind and patient lover. Welt is very attentive to your needs and always willing to protect you should the situation call for it.

With Welt on your side, he'll help bear your burdens and be there whenever you need it. Pinky promise.

BONUS: Doodles on everything. The supply list, on the little letters he writes to you, anything. If there's space on a piece of paper, he'll doodle. Maybe start an art journal together, he'd love it when you contribute even if it's a little stick figure next to his detailed drawings.

"Hm? Ah, there you are. I've been seeping through the archives and found some old animations of mine. Care to look at them together, if you have the time?"

#ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ not requested #welt yang #welt yang x reader #hsr x reader #hsr x gn reader #welt x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #hsr

[saleeba]

thigh riding ; jude bellingham 🖤

summary ♡ i mean, literally what it says on the tin.

pairing ♡ jude bellingham x fem!reader

content ♡ 18+ (mdni), smut, established relationship, thigh riding ofccc, softdom!jude (?), dirty talk, reader is a whiny mess, tiny bit of cunnilingus at the start, lots of making out bc jude bellingham having the most perfect lips and me not putting them to work would be an injustice, teeny bit of tit play, 0 plot 100% porn

a/n ♡ (yet another repost since tumblr hates me & decided to delete the last one 🫠) anon hiiii tysm for the request and for the lovely compliment 🥺💘 i hope this is what ur looking for <33 pls lmk if u have any feedback/requests my luvs :3

“oh, oh my god,” you purr, legs akimbo on the soft couch where you’re engaging in all things sinful with your boyfriend who’s kneeling on the stone-cold floor, your back arching off the material which causes jude to moan from the way your pussy pushes further onto his face.

the room is cool but your bodies are lit with the fuel of arousal. you’re completely naked by the way, jude’s one remaining item of clothing being the tight black briefs that put a strain on his rock solid cock. to say you can only see the outline of it would be an understatement. you could have sworn you’ve seen it twitch at least three times.

he’s been at it for the best part of twenty minutes now, tongue dipping in and out of your wet hole, but most of his mouth’s focus is on your growingly sensitive clit, every muscle working hard to suck, tease and kiss the bundle of nerves.

you haven’t been given the gift of even one orgasm in those twenty minutes however, the requests coming from your boyfriend’s swollen and pussy juice-coated lips insisting on you not cumming just yet and if you can hold on now, i promise i’ll make it worth the wait, darling.

jude’s tongue laps increasingly faster as the seconds pass, your eyes almost getting wetter than your soaked cunt over how unfair he’s being right now. your hands restlessly pull at his dark ringlets of hair, the moans leaving your mouth starting to become even more frenzied.

“oh fuck, jude, please,” you elongate the last syllable of that plea to show how desperate you are to finish all over his plump lips and skilled tongue, spine curving even more in an attempt to make him change his mind; change whatever he’s been planning and to just let you coat his mouth and chin with your cum.

his lips pull away from you before his large hands bring your shaking legs together, and you’re unable to comprehend how he can stop eating out your pulsating cunt and leave you unfulfilled so easily. a whine of exasperation subconsciously exits your throat.

jude bites his bottom lip to stifle a chuckle, standing up and sitting in the space on the sofa right next to you, feet firmly planted on the wooden floor.

“i promised that i would make all the teasing worth your while, right, baby?” he leans in to plant a small kiss on your pouting lips, unintentionally deepening it when he finds you laying your palms on his chest and kissing back with all the misplaced fervour you’d lost while chasing a high that never came from when his lips were lower down your body. you whine against the softness of his mouth, your own lips slightly parting to leave breathy moans. jude partially gapes his mouth too, taking in all the sounds and sighs imparting from your throat before he takes your mouth in his again, the two of you now passionately making out on the couch. before you both get carried away in the embrace of each other’s wandering hands, jude pulls away, leaving a conclusive smooch over the pout on your sweet face.

“come sit here then, darling.”

he spreads his legs and pats his left thigh, the one closest to you, and you almost haphazardly roll over in sheer desperation, the thought of your wetness on his bare skin creating a deliciously anticipating feeling in the bottom of your stomach.

as you hover over his thigh, jude can feel the heat of your cunt from inches away, gulping at the way your breathing gets shakier before you position yourself on his toned muscle with a satisfied groan.

“good girl,” he praises as you slip both hands onto his shoulders to anchor yourself, his own hands coming to grip you at the hips and hold you in place. “is my baby gonna ride me now, hm? ride my thigh until she gets what she deserves for being so good for me?” his wanton words make you clench down on the surface of his warm skin. you haven’t done this before but you’re determined to put on a show for jude and to finally enjoy the rewards of a well awaited orgasm.

you give him a hurried nod, shifting all your weight onto your hands and therefore his shoulders as you raise your body up slightly before coming back crashing onto him, a shameless moan leaving your lips when your cunt comes into contact with his thigh.

“ah, jude,” you whine out, hips rocking to run your slippery core up and down him. his spit from earlier and your own arousal helps to lubricate your gyrating movements, the ease of it all only making you move harder and faster on your lover’s thigh.

“you’re doing such a good job, sweetheart, fuck,” jude comments as he guides you on him, the slickness of your pussy turning him on beyond reason. “making a mess though, aren’t ya?” he looks down at the skin of his left thigh, now glistening with your juices.

you don’t move your eyes from his face but only whine some more, panting into the parting of his lips. “o-oh my god, jude, you feel so good.”

he grips onto your hips harder, surely leaving a bruise in the making, but you don’t care, the feeling of his muscular thigh so glorious under your drenched folds.

“you close, baby? let me help you out,” jude’s now grinding you against him himself, almost lunging your entire body into him. again you don’t mind because the sensation is so fucking good, your brain dizzy with the pretty image of his gritted teeth and dark furrowed brows. your clit throbs at the spectacle in front of and below you.

“want you to cum on my thigh, darling, need you to cum on my thigh,” he’s the one getting whiny now, voice reaching an ever so slightly higher frequency. “you deserve it, baby girl, let go for me, angel, cum all over me.” he slips the very tip of his thumb over your clit, making you nearly scream with the contrast of friction over the wet squelches of your cunt rubbing on him.

“jude, fuck, i’m so close, please,” you beg, not sure what you’re really asking for because jude is giving you his all, head ducked down and lips now on your left nipple, sucking and swirling it with his tongue, the stimulation feeding the journey to your orgasm. “shit, fuck, fuck.”

your mewling and moaning get louder, the sounds of your sopping cunt and the quiet groans coming from your lover heating up the air around you. jude pulls his mouth off your tit with a pop before his face comes into line with yours.

“cum for me, darling,” he coos, hands now at your waist to get a more centred control of your rapidly moving body. “my baby girl deserves to cum, been working so hard and so good for me, haven’t ya, sweetheart?” he flexes his thigh suddenly, the muscle seeming like it could almost penetrate you.

and with that, the cord in your lower stomach snaps. the explosive feeling travels right through to your weeping pussy where you make an unholy amount of mess on jude’s thigh, your cum gushing onto his brown skin.

you let out an almost anguished belter of a scream before jude catches it with his mouth, tongue slipping in to cradle yours as your moans get smaller and smaller, dissipating past his lips. pussy now clenching on him, he intensifies the kiss, guiding you to lay down on the sofa as he balances on top of you, hands still clasped on the contour of your waist, yours now hooked around his neck. your aching legs wrap around him instinctively and his mouth is hardworking as ever right now, dancing against yours in a heatedly sweet method.

it feels like hours before you both pull away for the sake of air, neither of you wanting to do so. jude leaves a romantically deep kiss on your lips before pulling his face up to look into your eyes.

“did so good for me, baby,” he mumbles, moving down to leave kisses on your neck as you take this opportunity to finally pant out the effects of your orgasm and catch your breath. “always so good for me.”

you experience the hardness of his cock twitch again, this time feeling it on your inner thigh. you’re not totally spent, right?

you lay a kiss on the tip of his nose before smiling oh so sweetly.

“let me repay you now, jude. please?”

#TAKE THREE AAAAND ACTION 🎬 #actually a JOKE how many times ive posted this now 😭😭 #anyway anon tysmm for the request i hope you like thisss 🥺💘 #if you haven’t read it already over the past 2 days that is 😭 #˗ˏˋ 📝 ˎˊ˗ #˗ˏˋ 💬 ˎˊ˗ #˗ˏˋ ✉️ ˎˊ˗ #anon #jude bellingham #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x fem!reader #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x y/n #football imagine #footballer imagine #footballer smut

[chaenqen]

sth like y/n and riki watching the first snow of the season together ୧( ⁼̴̶̤̀ω⁼̴̶̤́ )૭

chasing snowflakes❅ ;; n.rk

ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ thanks for requesting and sorry for keeping you waiting !! prompt ;; first snow with riki ;; word count about 130 or something like that ;; reader gender not specified ;; ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ

3407

the first few snowflakes settle down as you and riki make your way through the nearby park in your neighborhood… “beautiful, isn’t it?” he asks in a soft tone as you both look up at the dark sky where the first snowflakes slowly make their way down onto the earth.

“it is… wanna build a snowman?” you look over at the tall boy with a playful smile before taking his hand and pull him over to the snowfield to build your own little olaf. between building a snowman and throwing around with snow you two end up taking a bunch of photos and selfies to capture the moment. it was a beautiful sight to see. his bright gummy smile as he pushes the last stick into the top of the snowman’s head before walking over to you to admire your creation together from further away.

“he looks cute!” you beam a smile up at him as you point towards the large man build out of snow. your nose was slightly red from the cold air hitting your face yet you took no notice of that since all you could think about was this lovely moment between you both.

“not as cute as you~” he responds with a wink as you quickly takes your hand into his and pulls you after him as you both run around in the snow, occasionally throwing snowballs at each other, laughter escaping both of your throats…

it was like in a movie. your movie…

<33 @j-wyoung @echoofnoise00

#chaenqen #˗ˏˋ ☻ ˎˊ˗ chaenies favs !! #૮₍ ´ ꒳ `₎ა cuddly !! #໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა requested ᶻz #enhypen #enhypen imagines #kpop #enha #enhypen drabbles #enhypen reactions #enhypen x reader #niki #heeseung #jake #nishimura riki imagines #enhypen niki #niki smau #niki fluff #riki nishimura x reader #riki x you #riki #riki fluff #enhypen riki #riki imagines #nishimura riki #riki x reader #riki smau #riki reactions #riki enhypen #enhypen scenarios

[sxnshinericciardo]

wait wait omg what about sewis with " sharing clothes in a totally friendly way" if you please?? i feel like lewis' fashion w seb would be incredible

i fear that this might be very different from what you imagined when you sent this request 😅, but the idea took hold of me so this is what we’re getting! hope you like it babe 💛.

warnings: takes place post-sex (nothing that happened is described), mentioned nudity but nothing is described, a few swear words, does not take place after any particular race.

here’s the prompt list this is from, feel free to send a prompt + a ship!

SHIRT SWAP. ❨ sewis. ❩

lewis doesn’t even realize he’d fallen asleep until the sound of the bathroom door opening wakes him up.

reluctantly peeling his eyes open, he watches the hotel room briefly illuminate from the bathroom’s light before it’s abruptly switched off and seb steps back into the room. it doesn’t take long for lewis’s eyes to adjust, given the bright moonlight spilling through the room’s flimsy curtains, and he can see that seb is wearing a loose-fitting t-shirt and some soft shorts, his shower-damp hair clinging to the back of his neck.

it’s definitely a change from the position he’d had the other man in less than twenty minutes ago, and for just a moment, lewis allows himself to think that seb looks just as beautiful right now as he did then.

but seb starts to move back towards the bed, his steps slow and leisurely, and lewis forces himself to shake the thought out of his head. he rolls over a little, tugging the sheets a little higher around his shoulders, but they fall off anyway when seb pulls them back to climb into bed.

“you need to shower,” seb murmurs, pulling the covers over his waist as he sits down and reaching over to grab his phone. “you still smell like motor oil, you’re going to stink up the bed.”

the words are lightly teasing but also serious, and lewis makes a point of grumbling as he heaves his tired body out of bed, taking in a sharp breath when the air of the hotel room, not cold but chillier in comparison to the warm sheets, hits his fully naked body.

“don’t be so dramatic,” seb teases as lewis trudges toward the bathroom, the exhaustion of the race earlier and their recent activities weighing down his steps. “the world is not going to end if you’re out of bed for a few minutes.”

“don’t think that’s what you were thinking a few minutes ago,” lewis quips back, and hearing an indignant huff and some shuffling behind him, he darts the rest of the way into the bathroom and shuts the door, just in time for the pillow seb’s thrown to hit the wood instead of him. he laughs loudly, their familiar back-and-forth suddenly making him feel a lot more energetic.

“oh, fuck you,” he can hear seb mutter, the comforting german accent muffled by the closed door.

“you just did, mate,” he says, raising his voice slightly so seb can hear, and laughs again when he hears another pillow hit the door before finally stepping into the shower.

✵✵✵✵✵

it’s not exactly new, this thing between them. they’ve been doing it since they were both much younger, still basically horny teenagers who needed someone to fall into bed with after a race, either to celebrate a victory or try to feel better after a disappointment. it had tapered off somewhat towards the end of seb’s f1 career, with both of them maintaining that it was probably best to start getting used to not doing it before seb was actually gone, and this is the first time they’ve done it since the german has started coming to races again. lewis isn’t quite sure whether seb thought lewis wanted to do it or the action was driven by his own desires, but either way, seb had pulled him into a hug after today’s race, congratulated him on his podium, and pulled away with his hotel room keycard in lewis’s back pocket.

they’ve never exactly named it, what this whole thing is, either. lewis supposes the most correct definition would be friends with benefits, but it’s more than that, at least to him. he and seb have always had a connection, one that goes deeper than friendship; they understand each other, more than even others in the sport understand them, and they care about each other in a way that lewis doubts even the drivers who are the best of friends do. (except for maybe charles and pierre, but those two were practically in diapers together so it’s a little bit different; they’re in each other’s minds because they were around each other while their minds were still developing, not because they had an instant, innate connection the way lewis and seb did.)

but their little arrangement isn’t exactly romantic, either. they kiss, sure, and it’s nice, but they only do it because they both agree that sex doesn’t feel right without kissing, not because of any kind of sentimentality. and it’s not like they cuddle or fall asleep together or anything afterwards; whichever one of them whose room it isn’t gives himself a few minutes to calm down and get dressed before he leaves and goes to fall asleep in his own room, back to being alone in bed.

which… isn’t ideal, at least not for lewis. in private moments like this, with hot water falling around him and drowning out the world as it runs into his ears, he can admit to himself that he wants to stay, wants to fall asleep with his head snuggled into seb’s neck, able to feel the german’s heartbeat beneath his fingers as he drifts off. and he can also admit that he’s wanted this, wanted more, for a while, wanted it before seb even announced his retirement and wanted to stop what they were doing and left him without the one person who’d always been his anchor in this sport and kiss he had shared with someone to try and get over the departure tasting like ash and a very misplaced feeling of infidelity.

not that matters, not really. well, it matters to him, obviously, it matters more than any race or any championship he’s ever won or might win in the future. but it doesn’t matter in the long run. because seb doesn’t want any more than what they have now, and no matter how much it hurts to push his own desires aside, lewis is going to have to accept that. because he knows, more surely than he knows anything else - he’d rather have this ache in his chest for the rest of his life than risk ruining his relationship with seb. even if he doesn’t know, may never know, exactly what the fuck their relationship is.

✵✵✵✵✵

it’s only when lewis steps out of the shower - after probably taking way too long, and he hopes seb isn’t annoyed with him for that - that he realizes he didn’t bring any clothes into the bathroom with him. even though there’s very little point in it considering seb has definitely seen every inch of him by this point in their lives, he wraps a towel around his waist before exiting the bathroom, leaving the light on so he can see without just going by the moonlight.

seb’s still sitting up on his phone, the pale light making his eyes shine in a way that’s totally different from how the moonlight made them look, and lewis has to force himself to stop noticing seb’s eyes as he makes his way to where their clothes had been discarded on the floor, two piles of fabric right next to each other.

“you took your time,” seb notes lightly, glancing up from his screen. his thumbs are still tapping away even though he isn’t looking - probably answering emails from whatever charity he’s working with at the moment, and lewis really has to force himself not to think about how much he loves the german’s dedication. “i was just joking, you know, you didn’t actually smell bad.”

“we really need to work on your joking voice, then, ‘cause you sounded fully serious,” lewis teases back, immediately followed up by, “where is my fucking shirt?” because he’s going through his puddle of clothes and looking around on the floor and under the chairs and the thing is not there. “did you see if it went under the bed or-”

it’s at that point he realizes that the shirt seb had discarded is still lying amongst the rest of his clothes. he also registers, a second later, a slight embarrassed hitch in seb’s breathing, and jerks his head up to look at the beautiful man sitting in his queen-sized hotel bed.

sitting there, lewis finally realizes, in his shirt.

seb clears his throat awkwardly, face flushing a bit in the glow of his phone screen. “i didn’t mean to grab it,” he says, sounding very much like he’s trying not to let his voice waver. “i didn’t even notice it was yours until i went to put it on after the shower. and, i mean-” he glances down at his lap for a second, muttering the last bit. “it’s comfortable. and it smells like you.”

and lewis’s first instinct is to make another teasing comment about how, according to seb himself, he doesn’t smell very good at all. but the words die on their way to his throat, drowned out by the sudden overwhelming feeling of warmth in his chest and the epiphany that, without him even realizing it, the exact change in his relationship with seb had already been made.

well. now that he’d actually caught up and realized it, might as well take advantage.

“‘s alright, mate,” he responded flippantly, bending down to grab his boxers from the floor and dropping the towel long enough to yank them on. “i hardly ever sleep with a shirt on anyway. besides…” he looks back to the beautiful man in the bed and, taking a slightly terrifying chance, winks. “it looks better on you than it did on me.”

the flush on seb’s cheeks gets a little deeper, and gives an internal celebratory fist pump. then, before he can lose his courage while he’s already ahead, he drapes his towel over the bathroom door and makes his way back to the bed, sliding under the covers next to seb.

“oh,” seb exclaims, looking over at lewis as he adjusts the covers around himself. “you’re… you’re staying?”

“yeah,” lewis replies, a stab of anxiety and doubt shooting through his chest, and he looks up at seb, suddenly feeling his earlier courage drain out of him. “do you… not want me to?”

his voice is small. he doesn’t hate it so much as he hates the fact that seb has to hear him like that.

but then a breathless, nervous smile takes over the german’s face, and seb is giving a small nod. “i do,” he says, voice soft, accent a little bit thicker. “i do want you to.”

and all at once, the anxiety is gone, replaced by bright sunbeams bursting into lewis’s chest, making him break out in a half-giddy returning smile.

“okay,” he replies, voice even softer than seb’s - and whether that’s just to match his tone or because of the breathless exhilaration taking over him, he can’t quite tell. “then i guess i’ll stay.”

“okay,” seb repeats, nodding again, still smiling, and then they don’t say anymore. they keep looking at each other for a minute, a silence exchange of all the words it’s definitely too soon to say but that they’ve both been thinking for ages, and then seb reluctantly turns back to his phone and keeps typing away. lewis lays his head down, closing his eyes - he really is exhausted, from the race and the sex and the emotions and everything - and just as he can feel sleep drifting into his senses, he hears the rustle of seb sliding a hand under the covers, and feels familiar fingers lacing with his own.

lewis doesn’t open his eyes. he just joins his fingers with seb’s, gives them one slight, loving squeeze, and slides into sleep with a faint smile on his face.

#˗ˏˋ my writing ´ˎ˗ #˗ˏˋ request answers ´ˎ˗ #˗ˏˋ sewis ´ˎ˗ #sewis #sebastian vettel x lewis hamilton #sebastian x lewis #sewis fic #˗ˏˋ beautiful mutuals ´ˎ˗ #˗ˏˋ lisa ´ˎ˗

[positively-mine]

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ follower event polls!!

vote for which would you prefer for the event 🎉

I've been writing for a while now but haven't really interacted much with you guys yet :( so now it's your turn to be a part of the creative writing process!

˗ˏˋnotes: ´ˎ˗

polls will be opened for a week before closing

check ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ tag for all sections of polls (eg; colour pallette, prompts)

check rules & fandoms I can write for if you're unsure

more info will be given once event releases

#300 follower event #follower event #300 followers #˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ #headcanons #fics #hc #drabbles #x reader #requests: open #sk8 x reader #om x reader #twst x reader #saiki kusuo x reader #saiki k x reader

[beemused]

@scrrowblue asked: Ashtray. Your cigarette smokes as you extinguish it on the sender's skin.

      The  smoldering  eyes  of  Frank  Fairest  burn  almost  as  much  as  the  cigarette  he  extinguishes  on  his  son's  skin,  barely  contained  rage  threatening  to  burst  to  the  surface.  A  simple  argument  had  escalated  into  this,  over  something  relatively  unimportant,  but  it  was  the  disrespect  that  really  set  him  off.  Nobody  disrespects  Frank  Fairest  and  tells  the  tale  unscathed,  especially  not  his  flesh  and  blood.  He  clutches  the  snuffed  out  cigarette  tightly,  transferring  the  remnants  of  his  anger  into  his  grasp,  a  heavy  sigh  following  the  action.  Callused  hands  tousle  grayish  blue  locks,  dark  eyes  burning  holes  into  his  son's.

      A  warning.

      ❝Y'know, I  wouldn't  have  to  do  this  if  you'd  just  listen  to  me,  sport.❞

      The  words  flow  from  his  mouth  with  little  emotion,  but  for  what  it's  worth,  the  anger  is  gone.  Disappointment  is  left  in  its  place.

      ❝You  think  I  like  teaching  you  this  way?  It  hurts  me  much  more  than  it  hurts  you.  But  you  need  to  learn,  and  I  have  to  teach  you.  That's  just  the  way  things  are.  Don't  make  me  have to do  that  again.❞

#˗ˏˋ 🫧 ꒰ ANSWERED. ꒱ #˗ˏˋ 🫧 ꒰ IC. ꒱ #˗ˏˋ 🫧 ꒰ UPON REQUEST: FRANK FAIREST. ꒱ #scrrowblue #tw abuse #abuse tw #cw abuse #abuse cw #cw smoking #smoking tw #tw smoking #smoking cw #(i hate this man with all of my heart) #(i hope i covered all the triggers)

[nursc]

@cptnbatel asked: “you’re as stubborn as a damn mule.” ( she’s one to be talking, but shhh )

christine accepts the description with an unbothered air, working around marie's protests and the security enhancements installed into the biobed with a half-smile that was stubbornly perched on her lips. no amount of doom-saying, or self-doubt could knock it off. there was something in the air, she could not put it into words, but she felt things would be alright; there was nothing she could do for joseph or their friends. keeping enterprise running was out of her hands. what she could do, what she would do, was save marie.

whether she liked it or not.

❛⠀⠀⠀ very useful animals. clever too. ⠀ ⠀ ❜

the walking dead games

#˗ˏˋ ― don't thank me. ， 𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚜. ´ˎ˗ #cptnbatel #little request for a 2.10 based plot ??

[darlingofvalyria]

As lovers, you and Aegon were the best. As exes, you and him might be the actual worst. But he can't help himself, and you're powerless to your own desires. A Halloween Party, more than hard liquor, and glances that attempts to stifle stares of want— everything comes to a catalyst.

╰┈➤ PROMPTS ❝ INTOXICATED, DOM/SUB DYNAMICS ❞

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 2,359 ] [ masterlist ] | Modern!AU Aegon Targaryen II x F!Reader

contains— smut, angsty - exes to lovers, frat parties, college au!, possessive, cheating (not you or aeg), intoxication - messy sex for the messy exes, sorta toxic if you squint - petnames: sweet angel, sweet girl, sweetheart - mention of drug usage, slight hint addiction - nsfw: fingering, overstimulation, marking, dubcon + enthusiastic agreement, degradation, praise kink, dom!aeg— dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink if you squint, creampie - no betas.

a/n— hopefully this works for the request! it's a little... sadder and smuttier, but hey! ahahah! this is why i don't do daily kinktober. as an overwriter, it's just not possible to be quick jsdhjsh. comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

It starts with, "Don't look, it's your ex."

And you pause. You freeze. You physically feel the adrenaline course through each and which way vein in your system, finding the end of your epidermis and hairline. It's a lot and you still have yet to land your eyes on him. The punch you've been offered not long ago that's slowly been condensing between your fingers register in your brain as cold, a drink, alcoholic— that you toss your head back and chug.

You sputter and choke afterward, your friend slamming her hand on your back in sympathy. "F-fuck. That's gross."

"Dude," she nervously giggles. "I don't think you were supposed to throat shot that."

"It tastes chemical, like chugging a nuclear reactor. I don't recommend it either." You exchange each hand to wipe the wetness on your skirt and holding your glass, trying to settle your nerves. "Where is he?"

"Got waylaid by two frat brothers, Dumb and Dumber, I think... think he's chatting up— yep, Frat President, with... an Olsen Twin on his lap. Fuck. I'm sorry, bestie."

You try to laugh but it comes out strangled. Because of course. Aegon is a pretty comet who streaks by, just as pretty and just as infrequent, coming to pass like a godly miracle and people just devours him.

Because he's Aegon, always the shiniest star, the bestest friend, somehow everyone's first something. First kiss, first messy hookup, first 'and he did this thing with his tongue, oh my gods, I saw five stars and the moon!', etcetera.

You aren't his first love and you sure as shit aren't going to be his first heartbreak. You wonder how many heartbreaks it'll be tonight; there's a running tally of three heartbreaks within one party, a fantastical rumour, a proud, mysogynistic chidding between male friends— before you got together with him, before your sphere ever clashed with Aegon Targaryen when he too was just a comet to you, a moon, an asteroid— always on orbit but always outside, unknown to the taste of his lips when he giggles between kisses, nor the pretty sighs when your fingers find the bulge in his pants.

Fuck. You're getting teary and you're in your first Halloween party since breaking up with Aegon. You got dressed up and had gotten your makeup done by your more creative friend.

You need to stop wasting emotions and cruelly painful thoughts for the star haired boy.

"Fuck it. Where's the hard drugs?"

Your friend snorts. "I'm not letting you do hard drugs. I am going to do very nice grass with you from very nice people on the sofa already hallucinating."

"Fine. But we're doing shots."

Aegon didn't see you the first time he arrived, but he will always, always find you in a crowd.

It's your laughter that triggers it this time, a sound embedded in his bones that he turns like a dog at the sound, as if finding his master. And then you're there, loose and happy, his heart stuttering at the pure joy and fun in your face, in your body, as you swayed slightly the beat, holding a freshly emptied shot glass.

He swallows. Fuck. You're still so pretty.

Your makeup is done sharper, your lips glossy and bright— a cherry red. His mouth watering when you pout dramatically at your friend, the pulsing lights caressing every dip and bow, every curve and edge of you. Your hair is loose, framing your face with a fake, paper halo over your head that sparkles in glitter, matching the body glitter across your shoulders and collarbones, even the peeks of your thighs under the white, silk dress that, with a jump in his throat, has his cock standing at attention.

He knows that dress.

He remembers the ghostly echoes of the lace detailing atop your chest, how it feels under his palms when he skates his hand over to squeeze your tits, the feel of the silk against his stomach when you lean over his body as your pussy flutters, clenching, while you roll and grind against him, trying to find pleasure—

"Fucking hell," he downs the punchy, mysterious liquid that's just straight vodka with rum, soda and strawberry syrup (absolutely disgusting but good enough for college students on a Friday), because he's fucking hard, and you're just there, oblivious, dancing, looking gorgeous, and his heart is aching. You're everything he's ever want, desired and should have kept better care for— fuck all the arguments, all the fights, all the stupid little reasons that he can't remember anymore why you two broke up —

And his stare is heated, penetrative, because the next thing he knows you're looking back at him. A thread of swallowing gaze, of empty thought but the baseborn sound of a Halloween party and two people who can't look away. Their past is twisted between them, their future uncertain, but their present is here and the want is certain.

The shared heat is gone when a hand is on his shoulder and he is forcibly turned. Qoren Martell shakes his head, lips turned down.

"No, dude. That's a bad idea."

And Aegon smirks because that's what's expected of him. His fingers tingle as he clench and unclench them. He can't be seen mooning over an ex.

"Not if she wants it."

It's a douchebag reply, an Aegon Second of His Name reply, but Qoren knows him better than that, even Jason who's not even looking at him, staring at Solana who was grinding against some frat bro from Beta Theta while staring directly at him.

Aegon snorts when Qoren smacks Jason's head.

"So that's why you didn't bring Johanna, you fucker." Aegon takes another beer, itching for the paraphernalia hot in his pocket. You've turned away and the itch is back, low but steady.

Jason shrugs. "I don't know what you mean."

"I am not babysitting both of you, motherfucks," Qoren mutters. "You're both responsible of your mistakes tonight I'm meeting Somi tomorrow and neither of you messy fuckers are going to ruin that for me, alright?" With that, he slaps a hand on both of their backs, making Jason curse as his beer spills.

When Aegon watches Qoren leave, he turns back to you and see you're already staring, irises too wide, full lips slightly open, and the thrum of heat, nice and striking, runs down his body.

He's going to fuck you. Or you're going to fuck him. It's set in stone, written in fate's ink. When you move away, his stare hooked on you, he smirks the moment you turn back to see if he's still watching, starving, and cocking your head as if asking,

Not going to follow?

But of course he does, it's you and him.

It doesn't start with a kiss. It's a hungry stare meeting in a bathroom mirror spotted by dry water, and he knows what you need, taking your hair in his hand as he stands beside you, tugging you toward him as a gasp leaves your lips, your hands winding to his hips, anchoring yourself.

"How much have you had?" he asks, moving his hand to your neck, stroking the edge of your jaw, watching your wet lashes and licking lips. "Come on, sweet angel." His other hand moves to the edge of your white silk, running his nails across your thighs.

"Does it matter? I want you." A breathy whimper leaves your lips as his mouth latches on your neck, tugging your hair to the side to start sucking bruises as his hand finds your panties and a groan rips out of him.

"You're this wet, sweet angel? All for me?"

"I was grinding on, hhh— Jon, don't flatter your—" You yelp, a sounding slap on your wet cunt and your wetness clings to his hand. You squirm in his hold, but he tightens, cupping your centre with his thick hand.

"This is my pussy," he hums sweetly, cheekily, but you know better. Aegon got sweeter when he was jealous. He smiled brighter when he got angry. He goaded when he hears warning in someone's voice. Daring them. Daring you. "How fucking dare you let someone— Snow, that creepy, depressed asshole, really, sweetheart? — my pussy?"

A flash of heat in your eyes meets his mullish blue gaze. Heat and hurt. "We've broken up, Aeg. You don't get to own me."

His heart thrums, head swimming— but not much as yours. You don't do drugs as hard as him, and you've been hitting something tonight. Your irises are wider, blacker even when you're turned on. You kept wetting your lips even as slick already covers your gloss. With a hum, he thrusts two of his fingers inside without preamble and you keen, arching against him as he kept a steady, fast pace, using the meat of his palm every few chuckles to rub your clit until your leg shakes.

"F-fuck, fuck, Aeg—" Your hands hold onto him for dear life as you feel your orgasm tide but he doesn't let up, continues his humming with his fingers, his mouth sucking your neck until you feel slobbered through the haze, until it starts to hurt with your overstimulation, forming bruises continually sucked on— and you cum again, too fast and too painful the second time. Pushed rather than pulled into the peak and he coos as he slows once you start crying out, tears in your eyes, mouth agape, patting your pussy and even you can hear the squelch.

His last pat is more of a slap, making you jolt and wail.

He smiles as he meets your watery gaze in the mirror, leaning back against the tiled wall to pull your skirt up, bracing you against his knee so you can see your wet and abused fluffy folds.

"What'd I tell you, darling? This is mine. Even she recognises me when you couldn't. For being an angel, you sure do got a mean streak."

You sniffle, nodding along in your hazy mind. "S-sorry. I'm sorry, Aeg."

"Aw, it's okay, only hurt my heart a little." He gives you a sweet peck on the cheek, fingers running down the wet path of freshly forming bruises on your neck. "I've missed you s'all."

"Me too. I-I've missed you too, baby," you say, eyes burning as you blink at the sincerity, smile turning a little softer, more real. "Wanna feel you."

"You already did, sweets, you did well too. How many special grass have you had?"

"Just okay." You twist in his hold, his knee straightening as you turn to him with your hands on his chest, looking up, pouting. "But I want you."

His cock throbs and you feel it against your thigh, but his face remains neutral, tinged with amusement as if he doesn't want to hoist you and fuck you into oblivion.

"It seems such the angel has forgotten her manners." He presses his thumb against your lip until he pushes it deeper, pressing it against your tongue before letting you suck on it, lashes fluttering.

"That's not what we say when want something. Use your words properly, baby," he mock, heat sizzling inside you, cunt throbbing. Though pleasing him has always been how your dynamic works, enjoying the way your mind blanks, filled only with the desire to be his sweet girl, his good girl while he relishes in dominating you.

Physically manhandling you was one thing, puppeteering your wants to mould his was another.

Loss of control was a soft tissue in Aegon's armour. And though you had gotten close, he had never opened up that part of him.

It was one of the reasons you broke up.

Your intoxicated-addled mind comprehends that, to a level, this is bad, but b, he's close, distracting you with his presence, his thumb on your mouth a familiar action, and you never get just one orgasm from Aegon so it doesn't linger long. The thought vanishes like a salt-licked ghost from a too recent past before you're holding on his hand and you're smiling sweetly.

"I want you to feel good too, Aeg," you whisper. "I want your cock inside me."

And he smiles— won, lost, who knows anymore. "There she is."

The next events are truly hazy. All you can remember is that he's close, closer than he's been in months, in you and stuck to you, snapping his hips against yours while your legs are up and jelly, bunched up in his arms while you hold strong against the wall.

The world is mush of thought, tongue, and messy kisses that are more spit and moan between your familiar, favourite cock driving into you again and again. A steady, almost sweetly, rock of his hips driving into that spongy, hard part of you that makes your toes curl and the pleasure to overwhelm. There's sweat and there are tender presses of his lips on your face when you both calm down, almost too sweetly, too needy for the Aegon that you know.

But every time you're about to come down from that high, he's rocking into you again, squeezing your thighs, your tits, using the mess of your cum and his to rub against your clit, and you're gone again.

The pleasure, driven again and again, wipes your memory of the more tender words he murmurs against your skin.

"L-love you so much, baby, god, you don't know how much I've missed you."

"You cumming again? T-that's a good girl, so sweet f'me, fuck, so good."

You don't know how you got to the room the morning, but you're dry and clean and the morning is stale but not head pounding. And you wake up alone, no trace of Aegon at all.

If it wasn't for the trail of bruised kisses against your throat, the throbbing between your legs, full of shared cum when you dip a finger in— you could've said he was nothing more than a ghost of the past, a pretty little dream.

Hooking up with your ex ends with a toughened heart, too empty to cry as you read a message from him.

BLOCK HIM: i'm sorry.

#aegon ii x you #aegon targaryen ii x reader #aegon ii smut #aegon ii fanfic #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii angst #aegon targaryen ii fanfiction #aegon targaryen ii smut #aegon targaryen ii angst #elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒 #︶꒦꒷♡ elle tries kinks ♡꒷꒦︶ #🌼━━･❪ requested ❫ ･━━🌻

[amournoir]

ello ello! i'd like to request a rafe fic, he takes y/n on a date on valentines? 💌 can’t help falling in love w you: sfw oneshot w/ rafe

- 🖤

Chaos & Calm

pairing(s): rafe cameron x f!reader

count: 1.2k

warning(s): none just fluff

author’s note: hi hunny, thank you so much for the request! i hope you enjoy it 🤍

Rafe had always been the reckless Cameron, known for his wild antics and questionable choices. Yet, when it came to Y/N, his usually fearless demeanor melted into a mix of nerves and uncertainty. Days before Valentine's Day, he found himself haunted by the idea of asking her out. 

One afternoon, in the sun-drenched chaos of the Outer Banks, Rafe approached Y/N. Surprisingly absent was his usual cocky grin; instead, he fumbled over words. "So, you know, V-Day's coming up, and uh, thought maybe we could, like, grab some grub or whatever." 

Y/N, amused by the unexpected vulnerability, smirked, "Grub, huh? Sure, why the hell not? Just don't make it fancy, Cameron." 

And just like that, in the mess of Rafe's less-than-smooth words and Y/N's easygoing response, a date was set in motion. In the days leading up to their not-so-typical valentine’s day date, Rafe found himself navigating unfamiliar waters. Gone were the days of carefree recklessness instead he was entangled in a web of genuine emotions. Y/N, with her easygoing nature had become the unexpected muse for this transformation. 

Their interactions, once centered around banter and playful teasing, now bore the weight of unspoken words. Rafe who was usually the master of evasion, felt an unexplainable pull toward Y/N that left him grappling with this new and uncomfortable vulnerability. Y/N, perceptive and patient, seemed to understand what he was going through. She didn’t push or prod but instead, she let him unravel at his own pace. Late-night talks on the beach and shared glances during the chaos of the islands’ parties became the canvas upon which their connection painted itself. 

Whilst Rafe stumbled through the intricacies of emotions, Y/N provided an anchor in the storm. Her laughter would echo through his mind like a calming melody, a stark contrast to the chaos that usually defined his world. In those moments, the layers of bravado peeled away, revealing a side of Rafe that even he hadn’t fully explored. This uncharted territory would become a shared exploration, and Rafe for the first time, found himself wanting to willingly navigate the emotional depths of those waters of vulnerability with her. 

Valentine’s Day dawned with an air of anticipation and curiosity as Rafe prepared for their unconventional date. The chosen venue wasn’t a high-end restaurant or a lavish setting but it was a local diner that had witnessed the ebb and flow of countless stories in the heart of the island. As Rafe and Y/N entered inside, the atmosphere was a blend of classic rock tunes and the clinking of cutlery. Booths with worn-out cushions and flickering neon signs set the stage for a date that defied expectations. The not-so-fancy date was a testament to the authenticity of their blooming relationship. 

Rafe smirked as his eyes drank in Y/N’s attire and her figure. “Well, you clean up nice.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, “Takes one to know one, Cameron. I see you put in some effort tonight.”

“Only for special occasions, and you're looking at one right now.”

“Oh, am I?” She asked playfully. “What exactly makes tonight so special?”

With a smug grin, he replied. “Because I'm here…” Y/N scoffed and rolled her eyes but he continued, “...with the most beautiful person in the room.”

“Nice save, Cameron. But I'll take the compliment.” 

Rafe led Y/N to their table, holding her chair out with a confident yet playful demeanor. As they settled in, the banter continued. He leaned back in his seat as he looked across at her in the booth. “So, what do you think of this place? Impressed?”

A waiter quickly placed complementary glasses of water on their table, dropping the menus off and scampered off elsewhere. Y/N took a long drawn out sip then smirked, “It's alright. I've seen better.”

Rafe feigned his offense. “Ouch. Tough crowd. I thought you'd appreciate my refined taste.” 

She giggled and placed her glass back on the worn out mahogany table. “Don't worry, Rafe. I'm sure it'll be unforgettable.” 

As the night progressed, the flirtatious banter continued, each comment escalating the playful tension between them. The older Cameron leaned in closer to Y/N, elbows perched on the table as he held her gaze. “You know, after dinner, I was thinking we could take a stroll on the beach. I hear the stars are out tonight.” 

“A beach date, Cameron? Trying to impress me with clichés?” She teased, a small smile playing on her lips. 

He admired that beautiful look on her face and released a chuckle he wasn’t aware he held, “Just setting the mood, sweetheart. But if you're not into it, I'm sure I can come up with something more original.”

Y/N drummed her manicured nails on the four-legged furniture, her left hand resting on it whilst her chin was cradled in her palm. “Alright, Mr. Smooth Talker, beach it is.” 

“You know, I wasn't sure how you'd feel about going out with me. I've been wanting to ask you for a while.”

“What, the great Rafe Cameron nervous about asking someone out?” Y/N playfully teased him. 

Rafe scratched the back of his neck as he nervously glanced at her with his boyish smile. “Hey, it's different when it's someone you really like.” He was stunned at his own admission. He quickly tried to busy himself with the menu but after a moment, he peeked over it just to find her smirking at him. 

In that corner booth, amidst the diner’s timeless chaos, Rafe and Y/N engaged in a dance of laughter and shared stories. The menu, worn and stained, served as a backdrop to their unfiltered conversation. Rafe found comfort in the simplicity of the moment or perhaps it was her presence that brought out that peace within him. The food, far from gourmet, was a medley of local specialties; it wasn’t about the extravagance, it was about the shared experience. Y/N made him forget the weight of his usual reputation. 

The waiters and waitresses ran amok from one end of the tiny wooden restaurant to the other. Dishes and glasses and cutlery clattered as they crashed either on the tiled kitchen floors or the countertops. It was a bit chaotic but somehow still comforting. Amidst spilled drinks and mismatched silverware, Rafe’s nerves gave way to a surprising sense of ease. This date was not about impressing or performing; it was about two people, curious to explore their unexpected connection  in a place that made them feel seen and heard. Here in this diner, it was easy. It was simple. It was calm…with a bit of chaos. 

As they left the diner, the neon lights casting a warm glow on their silhouettes, Rafe and Y/N realized that sometimes, it’s the unconventional moments that leave the deepest impressions. The aftermath of their not-so-fancy Valentine’s Day date would usher in a new chapter for Rafe and Y/N. In the weeks that followed, they found themselves caught in a dance of shared glances and stolen moments. 

Rafe, the untamed Cameron, discovered solace in Y/N’s presence. She, with her serene nature, held him steady amid the storms of his own making. Late-night beach walks turned into shared confessions, and within the whispers of the ocean, they forged a bond that surpassed the superficial layers of their social existence. As the days rolled by, the tension between them slowly dissipated, leaving them standing on the precipice of something significant. Neither knew where this newfound friendship, each hopeful for a relationship, would lead them. He desperately needed calm in his otherwise turbulent life but she could do with some chaos to ruffle those feathers of hers but one date certainly wasn’t going to fix that.

🏷️ taglist:

⤷ @catmikaelson20 @elijahmikaelsontrash @hopes-wife @klaustopia @klausysworld @loverswillowed @moremaybank @miasmultifandomdump @mrs-maximoff-kenner @multiversediaries @mxacegrey @original-siphon @onlyfreds @panic-at-the-fiction @ranising @slinthoex @spike-and-angels-gf @spnandtvdudeservedbetter @thatfanficstuff @thatfictionalwh0re @wholoveseggs @drewstarkeyslut @drudyslut @jjsbank444 @moremaybank @rafetopia @sweetestdesire @tinyluvs {lmk if you’d like to be added to the taglist!}

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#˗ˏˋ 𝐯-𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝟐𝟒´ˎ˗ #request 💌 #aurora.r works #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron #outer banks fluff #outer banks #obx

[sageteapost]

Uuuh, I'm going to be honest, I've never dropped a request before, so I'm sorry if I screw up! But Could I please get a Cloud Strife with a cuddly/huggy reader who likes to hug him a ton and cuddles? If it's not too much to ask!

| Cloud Strife With A Cuddly Reader |

[ Cloud Strife x GN! Reader ]

CW + Tags: None. A bit sad but mostly soft. Some references and spoilers to Crisis Core (Borderline major?) (Established relationship. GN! reader.) Summary: How Cloud feels having a touchy and cuddly S/O.

[ (A/N): Good lord anon. I haven't wrote for Cloud in a bit and I'm so sorry, but I loved writing this! I'm kinda sad now though. ]

Cloud would be a bit shy with the affection at first. It’s oddly surprising, or perhaps foreign or long forgotten?

Would he hate it? Nope. Maybe just don’t do it when out in public or around Avalanche, he might freeze up.

But in the cozy and private confines of your dwelling together, Cloud will allow it. He may even step out of his comfort zone a tiny, leaving you with gentle touches that may leave you shocked.

Totally the type of guy to let you rest your head on his lap while he doing things, and if he feels up to it he'll rub your hair gently.

But I think there's another huge reason he likes your touch; his trauma.

It comforts him a lot, and there are late nights where he wakes up in a cold sweat with what he's gone through (Oh, Crisis Core..)

So during those moments, Cloud will actually lean on you for them. He feels safe, despite the nightmares and hallucinations from the mako.

In a way, it's sort of a reassurance to know you're still here with him despite what he's lost. It may take a bit of time for him to warm up to you at first, but he'll get used to it and eventually secretly crave your affection.

"Hey. I wanted to ask, but may you—oh, you can tell? ..Okay. Thank you, love."

#ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ request approved #ffvii x reader #cloud strife x reader #cloud strife x gn reader #cloud strife fanfic #ff7 cloud x reader #ff7 x reader

[arminsumi]

i tell ya nothing is more embarrassing than finding a goofy grammar error or misspelling in your post

#esp for special requests lol #i audibly groan #😭 #˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ jay

[vamptizm]

begging y’all to send me smutty requests for one shots, blurbs wtv idc JUST TELL ME UR THOUGHTS (mostly obx but can be other fandoms too)

#⇢ ˗ˏˋ vamptizm writes ࿐ྂ #⋆𐙚 ₊ ♡ 🌷 yuko #outer banks one shot #outer banks #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank x reader #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks x reader #smut requests

[sxnshinericciardo]

hii!!! can i please request a "one being shorter and it being a source of great enjoyment for the other" with yukierre my beloved?? hope you're doing well xoxo

lisa you are the best thank you for this 💛.

here’s the prompt list this is from, feel free to send a prompt + a ship!

HEIGHT DIFFERENCE. ❨ yukierre ❩

yuki doesn’t even have to look up when he feels the slight pressure on the top of his head, messing up his hair; he knows exactly who it is. he also knows that pierre expects him to react, to duck out from underneath his arms or bat him away, and so he continues his conversation with daniel like everything’s normal, like there isn’t a five-foot-ten (handsome) idiot of a frenchman using his head as an armrest.

talking with his new teammate goes relatively normally for a few minutes, but eventually daniel’s eyes can’t stop flicking to where yuki assumes pierre’s face is, and he lets out a deep sigh that’s only slightly dramatic. “alright, get off.”

“and why would i do that?” pierre asks from somewhere above him, and yuki can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “you make a very good armrest.”

“i’m gonna move,” yuki says, giving him perfectly fair warning, “and you’re gonna fall.”

he pauses after that, waits for a solid five seconds, and when pierre still doesn’t move and daniel just stands there and watches the two of them, eyes flicking from one to the other, yuki suddenly jerks away from pierre and steps forward, leaving the frenchman to stumble forward and almost faceplant right on the asphalt.

yuki lets out a cackle at the sight, and daniel even gives a small snort, though he also steps forward and holds his hands out slightly, as if ready to steady pierre. the (handsome) idiot manages to right himself and stand back up straight, however, shooting yuki a glare that doesn’t actually have any heat behind it.

“that was rude,” he says to yuki indignantly. “i could have hurt myself, and you would have felt awful.”

“i told you i would move,” yuki returns. “and i told you to stop putting your arms on my head.” he doesn’t add that he knows pierre has good enough balance to keep himself from falling, or that he would have caught him if it had looked like he was actually going to; he knows pierre knows that yuki would never let him get hurt.

the smirk returns to pierre’s face. “ah, but you are so small and cute, yukino,” he says, reaching out to pinch one of yuki’s cheeks. yuki slaps his hand away, fighting the fond smile that he only gives pierre when they are in private - he doesn’t want daniel to see it. “i can’t help myself.”

before yuki can give another retort, a ding comes from somewhere near pierre’s waist. the frenchman digs his phone out of his back pocket and checks the screen.

“they need me at the garage,” he announces, shoving the phone back into his pocket before wrapping an arm around yuki’s shoulder and yanking him into a side hug. “i will see you later, yukino.” and before yuki can wrap his own arm around the other man’s waist or say anything, pierre releases him, bids goodbye to daniel, and heads off in the direction of the alpine garage, humming something that sounds vaguely like that old french song he loves - the one he’d played on his phone for yuki last week when they’d been curled up together in pierre’s hotel bed, his foot resting in the bend of yuki’s knee.

the moment pierre is out of sight, daniel turns back to yuki, a knowing look in his eyes and a smile on his lips that makes a stab of anxiety shoot through yuki’s stomach.

“well,” daniel says. “you and him, huh? i can see it, you guys are cute together.”

nervously, yuki shuffles his feet, fixing his eyes on them for a moment before looking back up at daniel. “you won’t tell anyone?” he asks, voice borderline pleading. he thinks he might look pathetic, but right now he doesn’t care - he and pierre aren’t at all prepared to be open about their relationship, and though daniel has always seemed like a good guy, he doesn’t fully trust anyone in this sport not to out them just to get an edge on the track.

but, blessedly, daniel shakes his head. “‘course not,” the aussie assures him, and yuki feels a weight come off his chest. “your secret’s safe with me, mate, promise.”

at first, for just a brief moment, yuki doubts that. but then he remembers the way he’s seen daniel look at max and thinks, yeah, he and pierre are safe for now.

✵✵✵✵✵

hours later, after the qualifying is done and they’ve both earned spots near the front of the grid, when pierre knocks on yuki’s hotel room door using the special series of knocks they’d figured out for themselves months ago, yuki pulls the frenchman down into a kiss before he’s even got the door fully closed.

“you like this way too much,” he says against pierre’s neck once they’ve both pulled away for air. “me being shorter than you.” there’s no actual annoyance behind his words - he could never be truly annoyed with pierre, and even though he would never admit it, he sort of likes it too, pierre treating him like he’s some sort of cute little doll.

“i think i like it a very regular amount,” pierre replies, smiling as he leans his head down to kiss yuki’s cheek. “it is not wrong for me to like being taller than you, is it? you are small, it makes me want to protect you.”

yuki huffs, feeling his own breath blowing back at him from where it hits the skin of pierre’s neck. “i don’t need protecting.”

“i know, yukino,” pierre murmurs, hooking his fingers under yuki’s chin and nudging his head up until they’re making eye contact. pierre’s smile is fond, his eyes soft and a little vulnerable, and it makes yuki smile back at him. “but i want to do it anyway.”

as pierre leans forward and their lips meet again, and as pierre slowly begins to walk them toward yuki’s bed, yuki dimly thinks that he should probably tell his boyfriend daniel knows about them, if only to reassure him that he trusts the aussie to keep their secret. he thinks that he should tell pierre how much he cares about him, how happy he is that they wound up together, and especially how he wants to protect pierre, keep him safe, just as much as pierre wants to protect him.

but he can do that later. right now, he’s happy to kiss and be kissed by his favorite, handsome, tall idiot, to laugh against his mouth as pierre awkwardly pushes him to lay down on the bed, towering over him in a way yuki thinks maybe, just maybe, he’s already getting used to.

#˗ˏˋ my writing ´ˎ˗ #˗ˏˋ request answers ´ˎ˗ #˗ˏˋ yukierre ´ˎ˗ #yukierre #pierre gasly x yuki tsunoda #pierre x yuki #˗ˏˋ beautiful mutuals ´ˎ˗ #˗ˏˋ lisa ´ˎ˗ #yukierre fic

[greenelight]

is my bIRF. 💚🎂👸🏽

#˗ˏˋ ᵃᶜᵗ ᶤ· ﹙ out of character ﹚ ﹕ boba tea refill. #tbd. #planning to spend all day here! #bc tim works today we're gonna have a simple day today #but the weekend is when we'll explore the new mall in this town #i only requested we eat taco bell today gdffffgg #anyways as the birthday girl im sleeping an extra hour xD #hope you all have a great day!