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pandorxxx · 1 year

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Wrong kind of training…

Neteyam (30) x Omatikayan fem reader (23)

Warnings: SMUT THE HOUSE, age-gap, breeding kink, impregnating, daddy kink, oral, p in v, squirting.

🔞Minors, do not interact🔞

Neteyam was finally crowned olo’eyktan, after Jake decided that it was his time to step down. He was the perfect man for the job, anyway. He was a great warrior that loved his people. He was a helping hand to the elders, and led the clans to victory. He was a great son; always respecting his fathers wishes even if he didn't have to anymore. A great brother; always looking after his siblings. In the end, however, he wished that he could be a great husband, and father.

Although Neteyam was sought after by almost every woman in the clan, he always claimed to be too busy for a mate, even though he longed for one. That all changed when he met you. You were a little younger, granted, but mature for your age. He liked that you could hold your own, yet you were very submissive. He liked that you had a mind of your own, and the way you spoke. He liked that you were nurturing, similar to a mother figure. He secretly thought about courting you, and what it would be like to have you by his side. He figured that you wouldn't want to mate with him, considering the age gap. Why would you want to mate with him when there were many fine young men your age? What would you two have in common? However, he was completely wrong…

“Would you just look at him, he's soooo dreamy!” Tirea sighed, gawking over Neteyam from a distance as he trained the new warriors. You shot her a confused look before going back to making Tuk’s bracelet that you promised her.

“He’s way too old for us, Tirea. Besides, he probably has women falling at his feet.” you explained, turning your head towards the huge man. You couldn't deny that he was definitely a catch. He had muscles for days, and a gorgeous face but it was more than that for you. You like that he was very kind, and humble. You liked that he was a helping hand, and a true leader. You liked that he was soft and gentle, but serious when it came to his people, almost like a father figure.

“Yeah, ok!” Tirea said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

‘You might actually have a chance y/n… the way he stares at you??? Lord have mercy!” you eyes widened as you turned to look at Tirea.

“W-what are you talking about?” you spoke nervously. You never paid attention to the way he looked at you. Why would you? What would he see in you? You were too young for him.

“You know exactly what I'm talking about. Look behind you…” Tirea nudged your thigh causing you to turn around, and there he was. Staring at you from a distance. You two lock eyes for a moment, and smile at one another. Neteyam saw that as a sign to come over as he slowly started walking towards you and Tirea.

“Oh great mother, he's coming this way!” Tirea squealed, trying to hide her excited grin. Your eyes widened at her, as you purse your lips.

“Keep your voice down!” you hit Tirea in the arm, but before you knew it, he was towering over your sitting body.

“How are you, y/n?” a deep melodic voice spoke behind you, and you almost froze. You turned around, smiling up at him nervously before standing. You greeted him as you would your olo’eyktan, and he greeted you back.

“Hi, Sir.” you spoke, bowing your head. He shook his head with a light chuckle. He looked down at you, placing his huge hands on either sides of your shoulder.

“What have I told you? You can call me Neteyam.” he laughed before looking down at the unfinished bracelet in your hand. He sighed, and smiled before grabbing it.

“This is the fourth one in 3 days! You’ve got to learn how to say no to Tuk.” He grinned at the bracelet before handing it back to you. You chuckled lightly, grabbing the bracelet from him.

“I-its really not a problem, si- shit! Neteyam.” you fumble on your words, looking down at the moss underneath your feet, praying that it would just swallow you whole to rid you of this embarrassment. Neteyam chuckled at your nervous demeanor before placing his hand on your chin, lifting it up to face him.

“I'm up here, my love.” he spoke softly, rubbing his thumb across your bottom lip. Your body immediately felt hot, and your gaze became heavy upon his beautiful face. He bit his lip before sighing, knowing that what he was engaging in wasnt the best choice. He let you go and backed away before speaking again.

“Listen, your father wanted me to talk to you about training.” he smiled sarcastically knowing what you were going to say. You weren't really the best hunter, and you damn sure weren't a warrior. However, your father wanted you to train so that you could have some experience in it, even if it wasn't much.

You snarled at Neteyams sentence, causing him to throw his hands up.

“I know you don't like hunting, but it is your father's wish. Just be a good girl for him, ok? Don't cause him any trouble.” Neteyam spoke with a loud sigh before placing his hand on your shoulder again. You looked up at him, nodding hesitantly.

“Ok good..” he stared, smiling down at you.

“ Come by the old shack, after eclipse?” he asked, nodding at you. You sigh, rolling your eyes before agreeing with him.

“Yes, si-, Neteyam! Sorry.” you shut your eyes from the immediate embarrassment. He shakes his head and throws his head down.

“I’ll see you tonight, my love..bye Tirea.” he grinned before walking off. You turned around to meet Tirea’s eyes glued to neteyam as he walked away.

“Byeee!” she spoke in a trance-like manner. You rolled your eyes before hitting Tirea’s leg to knock her out of her trance.

“Ouchhh! What was that for?” she shouted, rubbing her leg.

“He wants me to meet him at the old shack??? TONIGHT?? Why not tomorrow morning or something?” you asked Tirea with a confused look. Tirea grinned at you knowingly.

“Now you know exactly why he said TONIGHT y/n…” she started, looking around to make sure that no one could hear her next statement.

“He wants to give you that olo’eytkan dick, girl.” Tirea whispered, laughing right afterwards. You tried not to grin, but you couldn't help it.

“No fucking way! I'm too young for him…he doesn't see me in that way.” you shake your head, looking down into your lap.

“Suuuree, y/n, whatever makes you feel better. Let me know how the dick was tomorrow.” she spoke, getting up to walk away.

“There will be nothing to tell.” you shoo her off, before going back to the bracelet.

It was about 30 minutes to eclipse, as you waved your father off to go meet Neteyam.

“Father, im leavingggg!” you shout as you walk towards the hut door.

“Wait, y/n!” your father shouted, walking towards you with a smile. He stood in front of you, cupping your cheek.

“Thank you for not fighting me on this. I know you are not happy about training, but It will benefit you. You should be thanking Neteyam for helping you, he is a very busy man. He could teach you a lot, so learn well, y/n.” your father explained with a soft smile. You looked up at him, and sighed before shooting him a smile.

“Ofcourse, father. I must be going now.” you say, walking away.

“Be safe, y/n.” he shouted, waving you off.

“All the time.” you shout, running towards the forest.

You had been walking for a while, as you thought about your conversation with Tirea from earlier. Why would Neteyam bring you to a secluded part of the forest if he wasn't trying to make a move? Had you really been blind all this time, not seeing the obvious signs? Or were you blowing this entire situation out of proportion? He was olo’eytkan for crying out loud. Why would he want to court your young ass?

You were ripped out of your thoughts when you saw him. Sitting on the decomposing steps of the old shack, looking into the night sky. His freckles glowing in the moonlight. His long braids flowing down his back. His toned arms, and the way he held his bow. He made you melt, he was unbelievably gorgeous, you could stare at him all day.

He finally turned around to see you lurking in the shadows. He smiled, motioning for you to come sit next to him. You obliged, walking towards him, sitting next to his huge figure. He looked at the stars above you two.

“Isnt it pretty, y/n? The night sky?” he asked, before looking back at you.

“It’s beautiful, sir!” you look up in amazement, admiring the night sky before you feel a huge hand on your thigh, squeezing it tightly. Your eyes shot down to your thigh, as your breath started to quicken. You started shaking under his touch, and he noticed.

“What did I tell you about that, y/n?” he spoke, inches away from your ear. You hesitantly look into his eyes, mouth agape from panting nervously. He chuckled, noticing your nervousness, before throwing his head down, shaking his head.

“I-im sorry, y/n. Call me whatever makes you feel comfortable.” he gazed at you through his eyebrows, as he let your thigh go. You immediately felt cold without his touch. An overwhelming amount of confidence came over you, as you leaned in, kissing his lips passionately. His eyes widened before he started kissing back. His strong arms, pulled you ontop of him, deepening the kiss. His hands slid down to your ass, gripping it as he groaned in your mouth.

It felt so good, but Neteyam knew that this wasn't right. He was supposed to be training you, not mating with you. Your father entrusted him to teach and protect you. He pulled away from the kiss hesitantly, sighing loudly as he looked down, too embarrassed to look you in the eye.

“As much as i want to take you down, right here, right now.” he started, eyeing you up and down.

“We can’t, this would not work.” he explained holding your waist. you sighed, looking at him with desperate eyes.

“Why not? Have I done something wrong?” you ask, caressing his broad shoulders. He bit his lip at your innocent demeanor. The way you looked at him, and blamed yourself for absolutely nothing made his heart skip a beat.

“No, absolutely not! It is my fault for falling for you the way that I have. Your father told me to train you, not mate with you. I should know better.” he shook his head, pursing his lips. You blushed at his statement, not believing that this was really happening. All of the signs, and hints he threw your way, they were all real. All of the nervousness that you felt was masked by lust. You wanted him so bad, and now was your chance. You tilted your head at him, looking at his lips, then his eyes. He noticed the sudden change in you, and his eyes widened.

“Do you ever just…..let loose, Sir?” you asked, trailing your dainty hand down his abs. His breathing hitched, as he shut his eyes tightly.

“I know you’re a very busy man, and I appreciate you coming out here to train me. How about you train me in something a little more…” you finally reached his loincloth, slipping your hand in to grab his throbbing cock.

“Intimate.” you smile, watching his face contort in pleasure. He growled loudly as you started to jerk him off.

“y-y/n! We c-cant. I'm too old for you.” he says in between moans. You bring your forehead to his, staring at him through your eyebrows.

“Please, neteyam. I need you…” you plead with him, as you untied his loincloth. He looked down, and then looked back up at you. He sighed, looking around frantically before snapping his head back at you.

“I need you too, princess. You don’t know how bad I need you.” He confessed as his hands caressed the small of your back. You finally got his loincloth off to reveal his hug, veiny cock, springing up towards the bottom of your breasts. You look back to meet his eye, getting close to his ear.

“Oh, I think i know, daddy.” You whispered, letting your fangs graze his earlobe with every word. That sentence alone was enough to make him completely feral. He stood up, with you in his arms. He laid you on the moss, hovering over you with hungry eyes. He leaned down to your ear as he squeezed your small waist.

“Fuck “neteyam”, call me that from now on.” He whispered seductively, attacking your neck. You wrapped your arms around his broad back in hopes of bringing him closer to you. He pulled away from your neck going straight to your lips. He slid his hand down into your loincloth, massaging your clit. You moan into the kiss, biting his lip causing him to growl loudly. He pulled away from the kiss, sitting up to tear your loincloth off. He stared at your glistening cunt, licking his lips, then back at you with a small grin.

“I want you to sit on my face, right now.” he commanded before laying down next to you. You sat up on your elbows, eyes wide from his statement. Before you could answer, he was pulling you onto his face. You hovered over him, the rest of his body in your view.

‘Neteyam, I don't want to hurt you.” you whined trying to resist sitting on his mouth. He slapped your ass hard before speaking,

“Do it!” he said in a dark voice, pushing your hips down on him.Your legs finally gave out from his pulling, causing you to moan out loud at his tongue swirling around your cunt. You threw your head back in pure bliss, using his chest for leverage.

“You taste so good, princess.” he groaned into your cunt as he sucked on your clit. Your jaw dropped, as you gripped the sides of his waist.

“Neteyam, fuck!” You cried, trying to rise off of him, to no avail. He had the strongest grip on your tiny waist. He slapped your ass once more.

“Who?” he asked, kissing your cunt, sending volts of electricity through your entire body.

“Mmmm, i-im sorry daddy!” you whined, looking down at his hard cock in front of you, watching it pulsate and throb. You decided to go to work on him.

“Ohh shittt!” he groaned, throwing his head back onto the moss beneath him. You were bobbing your head on his hard cock, as you swirled your tongue around the tip. He went back to sucking your clit, as he thrusted into your mouth. His thrusts to the back of your throat made you choke, as tears ran down your face. He flicked your swollen clit with his pointed tongue, making the knot in your stomach build.

“D-daddy?” You whine, pulling away from his cock briefly.

“Mhhmm?” he mumbled, still attacking your clit.

“I-I’m” you stutter as your legs started shaking. You sit up, throwing your head back.

“You’re what, princess?” he whispered into you cunt, sending you over the edge.

“Mmmm im cummingggg!” you scream as your eyes roll to the back of your head, still shaking violently. He licked your juices up, as you desperately tried to catch your breath.

“So sweet, y/n!” he muttered, kissing your sensitive clit before patting your thigh, signaling for you to get up. You slowly raise off of him, taking a seat by his side. He sat up, watching you pant loudly. He chuckled, laying you back down onto the moss. He hovered over you, leaning down to your ear.

“Im gonna get you pregnant tonight. I need you to have my babies.” He whispered, massaging your clit with his tip.

“Mhmm, I want it all! give it to me, please.” You beg, spreading your legs wider, giving him easy access. He glanced down at your dripping cunt, making his mouth water, before looking back up at you, drunkenly.

He sat up, keeping eye contact with you. He grabbed your thighs pulling you close to him harshly, making you gasp. He spit on your cunt, tapping your clit with his tip. He bit his lip, glaring at you with low eyes.

“I’m gonna fuck the shit outta you.” He muttered, licking his lips before sliding into you slowly. You gasp at his size, gripping the moss under you.

“Fuck!” You yelled sharply, shutting your eyes. He finally slid all the way in, with a low groan as he threw his head back. You looked down at your stomach, noticing a huge bulge where his tip stopped. He looked down at you, completely fascinated by how big he was inside of you. He chuckled before pressing down on your lower abdomen, thrusting into you slowly. You moaned at the feeling of being filled to the brim.

“I’m gonna make you mine, baby.” He groaned as he picked up the pace, holding onto your tiny waist as he rutted into you.

“Ughhh daddy, it’s too much!” You whine, crawling back on your elbows. He titled his head at you sadistically, pulling you back down onto his cock. He leaned down, gripping your neck tightly, making you whimper.

“I thought this was what you wanted, princess? You’ve gotta take it now.” He explained through gritted teeth, as he picked up the pace again. All you could hear was skin clapping, and squelching noises. Your moans got caught in your throat as your jaw dropped.

“You have nothing to say now, huh? You like when daddy fucks you sensless?” He asked kissing your bottom lip lightly. All you could do was nod frantically, mouth still agape. You finally gasp loudly, crying out at the feeling of his cock drilling into you deep. You felt that familiar knot in your stomach, shutting your eyes immediately.

“No,no look at me when you cum, princess.” He grinned, gripping your neck tighter.

“Pleaseeee, I- I can’t!!!” You plead, eyes still closed.

“Yes you can, baby. Open your eyes.” He grunted, watching your face contort. You finally opened your eyes, looking down at the source of pleasure. You watched as his hips rolled into you slow and steady, making you lose it. Your legs started shaking, and your eyes rolled back.

“I’m cummingggg!!!!” You scream, squirting all over him as you but your lip.

“Yessss baby, give it to me!!!” He moaned, helping you ride out your high.

“Now it’s my turn…” he flipped you over on your stomach, pulling your hips up towards his pelvis as he pushed your head down onto the forest ground. He slid into you slowly, causing you to cry out.

“I know baby…be a good girl and take it, ok?” He said softly, thrusting into you hard and deep. He threw his head back, grunting loudly before gazing back down to watch your ass slap his pelvis repeatedly.

“You look so good like this, y/n!” he moaned, pulling you up by your hair, wrapping his giant arm around your small torso. Your soft moans were too much for him, as he felt the knot starting to form in his stomach.

“I’m gonna fill you up soon, baby, are you ready for me?” He grunted in your ear, grabbing you by the folds of your arms.

“Yesss daddy, I need you!” You whinned, gripping his strong arm as you felt your high coming for the third time.

He felt you clench around him, making him moan out loud as he shut his eyes tightly, leaning down to the crook of your neck.

“I want you to carry my children, right here.” He let out a breathy moan, pressing on your abdomen as he thrusted deep into you.This sent you over the edge.

“Daddy, I’m cumming againnn!!!!” You yelled as you convulsed in his arms, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your mouth flew open.

“Shitttt, me too baby!!” He groaned, as his eyes rolled back, shooting his thick load into your womb.

“Oh my God, yesssss!!!” You shouted as you felt his cum leak into your stomach. He thrusted into you slowly, watching his seed coat his cock with every stroke.

“Such a good girl, y/n.” He smirked as he pulled out of you, watching his seed leak out of you. He smacked your ass before flipping you over on your back. You gently caressed his cheek as he looked down at you.

“Thanks for the training, daddy.” You eyed him up and down, biting your lip. He grabbed your neck lightly, bending down to give you a passionate kiss.

“Anytime…”

Ok so this was the story that was most voted today. Really quickly, can we talk about how Neteyam was supposed to be training her, and he ended up mating with her, like sir????? What happened to the original plot??? Anyways, i hope y’all liked it as much as I liked writing it. Until tomorrow, love y’all!!🫶🏽😎

Outtie❤️🖖🏾,

Pandorxx

2K notes · View notes

somnambulic-thing · 4 months

Text

page 622 read on ao3

Eddie Munson x afab!reader E +18

summary: It's the middle of the night and you just can't find sleep. Eddie wants to help. He wants to help so bad.

Words: 3k

||reader has insomnia, smut, fluff, pinch of angst, LOTR references, domestic, nerds in love||

A/N: This is for all of us who haunt the nights. <3

Page 622 is graced with not one, but two dog ears.

That’s nothing unusual for the thick heavy paperback in your hands. A copy of The Lord of the Rings, all three parts united in one book and littered with battle scars like a gnarly old Orc of Mordor.

It belongs to both of you, bought on that whimsical fleamarket by the side of the road with spare change collected from the nooks and crannies of the van. It hadn’t mattered that you already owned a box set each, it had been clear that this book wanted to go home with you. Once integrated into your shared collection, it became the copy that was pulled out when Eddie and you had an argument about the most minuscule details to settle. It wasn’t a rare occasion that someone got tackled before they could claim victory over the matter. That brave book had been ripped from victorious hands more times than you could count and flung over shoulders, into corners or behind furniture.

It was also the copy Eddie used to ponder ideas. When he was writing a campaign and the atmosphere he was eager to create didn’t feel quite right, he would go down into the Mines of Moria or deep into the thicket of Fangorn forest and seek inspiration between the lines. There he left marks with the heavy tip of his pencil, elbows catching on the edges of pages as he reached for his notebook, creating new dogears, sometimes small tears.

You loved those marks and never grew tired of discovering fresh traces of his adventures. They kept you company on those days you wouldn’t get tired at all.

The world between the worn covers was familiar, the motions of the adventures committed to memory in many places, the adventurers friends that comforted you on restless nights.

You chose this copy over the others you own because it’s an intimate object, because you could trust it to catch you should you fall asleep on its pages, trust it to be more beautiful in the morning with more kinks and wrinkles.

But there were days when even the unhastiness of Treebeard wouldn’t do the trick to coax you into slumber. Today was such a day; stuck on the sofa on a dark, restless sea and no sleep in sight.

You hadn’t heard him coming.

“Just flopped around the mattress like a fish out of water looking for you.”

Eddie’s voice is deep and raspy and a little cranky around the edges. Your eyes shift from page 622 to where he stands in the doorframe, all tousled hair and sleepy eyes. There are lines on his right cheek, a shallow relief in the mirror image of his pillowcase. His boxers sit dangerously low on his hips and it tickles in your fingertips to follow the trail of soft hair and tuck them further down.

“That’s an amusing image,” you say with a smile as Eddie rubs one eye with his flat hand, nose scrunched up and wrinkly. “Can you demonstrate that to me?”

“Do not mock me. I awoke all cold and lonely…” he waves the other hand through the air. “Forsaken by my love.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, the mirth in your tone slipping just slightly, but Eddie catches it.

“How long have you been up?” he asks, banter put aside in exchange for worry and makes his way over to the nest of blankets and pillows you’d made on the sofa.

You frown, not sure you know the answer to that question, feeling like you’ve fallen out of the stream of time; trapped in endless night, doomed to read the same three sentences on page 622 again and again with nothing but your thoughts for company. Until now.

You turn to check the thin green digital numbers on the VHS recorder while Eddie lowers himself to the ground in front of you. “Almost two hours.”

“That’s no good,” he says softly and fumbles with the blanket draped over your legs in search of your skin, nudging the book off balance. It slides down your lap with a soft rustle. Dark, heavy eyes search your face for clues he knows you’re reluctant to give him and a warm palm finds your thigh moments later, an epicentre for violent goosebumps. You shiver and he smiles. “What can I do?”

“Nothing—“

“You underestimate my relaxing properties.” He places a kiss on your knee. “It’s pretty annoying, actually.”

You shake your head. “Don’t want to keep you up—“

“Want me to take over the reading? You just rest and listen—” He lowers his voice to a soft rumble. “—let me hypnotize you.”

“You really don’t have to—“

“Shhh… would you please just let me help?” Without waiting for an answer, Eddie slides the blanket off your thigh and covers it in soft, slow kisses.

“Can’t—“ kiss “go—“ kiss “back to sleep—“ kiss kiss “knowing—“ kiss “you’re out here alone. Suffering.”

His hair is soft between your fingers. You loosen a few small knots while you rake your nails over his scalp.

“Eddie… I…”

It’s exhausting being a ghost, to haunt the wee hours of the night unable to find rest. It was also lonely. There was a hazy barrier isolating you from the people around you. From the man whose company you craved so much but struggled to accept in this circle of hell.

Eddie has had his fair share of sleepless nights, had done plenty of haunting himself; but not like this, not without a trackable cause that offered some degree of sense. And you’d never wish this on him no matter how lonely you get, but sometimes, you find yourself envying him for the way he just falls asleep on any surface most days and with the envy, there comes resentment. The disconnect between resentment and longing a rope binding your hands behind your back, keeping you from reaching out.

Dark eyes are staring holes into your body as Eddie is waiting for you to continue, to give him something.

“You what, sweetheart?” He’s rubbing circles into your skin. “You want me to leave? Like, actually?”

“I don’t want to take my mood out on you…”

“Why not?” he grins. “We could make it fun. Tire you out, air out some of that—“ his hands leave your legs to gesture wildly through the air. The cold creeping in where his warm palms had just rested feels unbearably cruel. You don’t want him to leave. “— some of that pent-up… whatever it is.”

“Okay.”

Eddie’s brows vanish under tousled bangs. “Okay? Shit, I had this whole speech planned about how we’re a team and that you’re being so stubborn is a waste of time—”

“You complaining?”

“No… no…” he smiles and runs his hands up your thighs. “So, you wanna be a little… mean to me?”

“No,” you breathe out. “Don’t want that.”

He hums and nods, leans down and licks your skin; from your knee right up to the hem of your shorts. It’s the slightest touch, just the tip of his tongue, but the sensation sinks into your body like warm summer rain falling onto dry and dusty ground.

“Let me love you,” he mumbles against your thigh, running the tip of his nose along the border of fabric you hide behind. “I hate it when you feel lonely while I’m right here and fucking crazy about you…”

“You’re right here,” you repeat like in a trance. Eddie looks up at you, so soft and wild at the same time and so sincere and you feel the last layer of resistance melt as if it had never existed.

“Right fucking here.”

“Fuck me.”

Warm gentle hands begin to free your legs from the tangle of blankets and you marvel at how much of Eddie’s essence resides in his touch; soft but rough around the edges where his fingertips have put on tough skin over the years. There’s so much love, so much passion lingering in those points where you end and he begins.

Accompanied by the soft rustling of fabric, Eddie runs those storytelling hands up and down your thighs, from the inside to the outside and up to the round of your ass where he ever so slightly puts his nails against your skin and runs them down down down to the back of your knees where he holds on and pulls you further down the cushion. You yelp a little and then you both laugh a little and you lift your hips to aid him rid you of your shorts and underwear.

“M’ gonna try a thing,” he says and spreads your legs just wide enough to fit in between.

“Try w-what?” you ask around a hitching breath as you watch Eddie slide two fingers into his mouth. They glisten with spit when he pulls them out and you can hear a few drops hit the floor as he lowers himself down.

“You know how I sometimes take ice-cold showers to shock spiralling thoughts out of my mind?”

“I… what? AH!”

One long finger enters you swiftly, moves in-out-in-out and is joined by the other. Heat expands like a shockwave through your pelvis as all the blood rushes to greet the pads of Eddie’s fingers. He moves with precision in quick pulsing motions against that soft erogenous spot deep inside you, watching you closely.

“Good?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Not too much?”

“No,” you grit out as your hips start to twitch.

There is no smug little smile, no told-you-so grin, only deep concentration and a bright red blush high on his cheeks and you desperately wish he’d kiss you. That thought is gone and forgotten as that penetrating pulse quickens, deepens and Eddie’s mouth inches closer and closer to your clit. There’s a sharp tingling in your cunt, not quite a sting, not quite pain and it’s hot and delicious and as it spreads out into every corner of your body, the world gets smaller and smaller, shrinks countless miles each second until this sofa is the only place left in the universe.

“Holy shit, holy shit, those noises, sweetheart.”

You can’t hear a thing over the rush in your ears and as Eddie’s lips close around your confused, prickling clit, your eyes roll up and close.

And for an infinite moment, there’s nothing left but ecstasy.

When time starts up again, you’re re-entering the world shaking and gasping. Eddie is quick on his knees. One hand closing around your wrist and the other pressed into your back he pulls you into an embrace that you collapse into like a dying star.

“I love you I love you I love you…” he whispers into your hair and holds you holds you holds you until you feel solid again. “You good?”

You nod and hum.

Hands find your face and guide you up and you remember how badly you need a kiss when Eddie’s lips form pretty words so close to yours. “Now, let me take you to bed and—“ You interrupt him, pressing your mouth to his with desperate, sloppy urgency. He chuckles softly, catching your lower lip with his teeth for a gentle tug before he pulls away.

“Come on,” he kisses the corner of your mouth. “Really wanna continue this.”

“Can’t move… you broke me.”

“Oh, well, pretty sure you broke my fingers with your pussy so we’re even. Get up.”

You laugh and reach for the hand cupping your left cheek; you kiss the palm, run your tongue along his fingers and kiss the tips. “Better?”

Eddie’s brows shoot up and he takes a sharp breath. “Bedroom!”

He scrambles to his feet and pulls you with him. In motion like that, you can feel drowsiness settling in, slowly taking hold of your muscles. Your legs still feel shaky, almost heavy, and Eddie wraps an arm around your waist for the moment it takes you to steady yourself.

“Looks like it’s working,” he says softly.

“Feels like it, too.”

Finally, there is the smug smile you have been waiting for. “And it took me less than two minutes. ”

“You… checked the time?”

“For science,” he says proudly and the smile turns into a grin.

“Ah, science. Alright, Doc,” you reach down, hook a finger into the waistband of his boxers and let it snap. “I’m ready for the next experiment.”

Eddie tilts his head, narrows his sleepy eyes and hums. You can hear the cogs in his mind take up speed and then he sidesteps you and begins to rummage through the mess of blankets and pillows on the sofa.

“What are you doing?”

“Just a sec, you gave me an idea— ha!” He whirls around and shoves The Lord Of The Rings into your hands. Your reaction is tardy and you feel the cover catch on your thumb and bend in a way that probably leaves a crease but you have not time to check because Eddie is quickly maneuvring you to the bedroom.

He sits you down on the bed and swiftly pulls your shirt over your head and you have no choice but to let go of the book. It drops somewhere on the mattress and out of your mind when Eddie flicks on the bedside lamp and strips out of his boxers.

“Never gets old”, you marvel at the sight of him, pale and lean but soft and the smile you just conjured with those words seems nothing short of diabolical with the way the light catches his features from below.

You recede onto the mattress and he follows you like you’re magnetic, crawling after you until he’s back between your legs, kissing his way up your body, taking his time to caress your breasts with his hands and lips. Only when you yawn he stops and comes up to face you, to kiss you and you drink in the sigh of relief that he places inside your mouth as he slides his hard cock against your folds, you hold on to goosebump-covered shoulders as he pushes inside you.

“Never gets old,” he moans as he rolls his hips against you in deep, slow thrusts and kisses your nose when you have to giggle.

You’re not chasing ecstasy now, but wholeness, you’re not searching for a high, but for refuge. All your thoughts slow down while Eddie occupies all your senses.

“How do you feel?” he asks into the soft spot below your ear.

“Good… Sleepy.”

“M’ not saying I told you so—“

A chuckle tickles your skin and suddenly, a bolt of guilt and fear flashes through you. “But we can’t do this every time—“

“Hey!” He lifts his head to look at you, presses a finger to your lips. “Shhh… Don’t go there,” he says and puts his forehead to yours. “Come back… come back to me. I got you.”

“I’m here.”

“You just have to let me in…” He kisses you like he’s sacred you could vanish from beneath him and you swear you can feel his heartbeat reach out for yours, swear you can feel it pound against your chest like it’s begging for entry.

“M’ sorry,” you whisper and sling your arms around his shoulders. “I’m trying.”

And then he moves, slowly pulling his cock from inside you—

“Eddie?”

and stretches long across the bed to grab the book right off the edge.

“On your side,” he instructs and manhandles you into position before you can comply on your own and slides back into your cunt before you can process what’s happening.

“Fuck… oh fuck…” you moan as quick deep thrusts hit just the right spot over and over. You can hear the rustling of pages behind you and Eddie’s chest retreats from your back. “W-what are y- ah you…?”

‘It was not much more than a tall man’s height now…’ he reads the first line from page 622. You try to turn to look at him but he pushes you back. “Nu-uh, relax. M’ going to read to you and I’m going to fuck you till you pass out and maybe then you’ll think of waking me sooner the next time you pick up this book in the dead of night.”

You moan and laugh and there are tears in the corner of your eyes. “You trying to condition me?”

There’s no answer, he just keeps reading; shakily, punctuated in the quick rhythm of his thrusts and laced with moans of his own. You just close your eyes and let go and soon enough you’re close to the edge again.

’We are famisshed, yes famisshed we are, precious,…” he croaks in a toned down, breathy Gollum impression that’s highly confusing and you clutch the sheet, pulling it loose.

“Shit… you gonna make me come…”

After a few more lines he stops reading and you hear the book drop. Eddie presses close to you, softly bites your shoulder while a hand wanders down between your legs to play with your clit.

‘Yess, yess, nice water,’ said Gollum,’ he continues from memory.

“Oh, you asshole,” you groan.

‘Drink it, drink it, while we can! But what is it they’ve got, precious? Is it crunchable? Is it… tasty?’

One strangled moan falls from your mouth and then your insides tense violently. Eddie mercilessly fucks you through it and beyond and doesn’t slow down until he coaxes another orgasm out of you. He follows you this time. You feel him pulse and twitch deep inside of you, feel his hot breath on your shoulder and neck and one stray tear escape the corner of your eye. It runs down the side of your nose while you listen to both your mismatched breathing slow down again.

“I fucking love you,” you babble groggily. “So much… so much…”

Eddie places a kiss on the back of your head and picks the book back up, resuming where he left off. He stays inside you while he softens until he slips out. The distinction between characters fades, the gaps between words grow longer but you barely register it; it’s the sound of his voice that pulls you under into the depths of Morpheus’ realm and you’re finally ready to descend completely…

‘Look here!’ Sam whispered to Frodo, not too softly: he did not really care whether Gollum heard him or not. ‘We’ve got to get some Sleep—' Eddie pauses. “Precious? You asleep?”

Your slow, even breathing is all the answer he gets. He carefully reaches over you and drops the book on the mattress before he turns off the light and wraps his arm around you.

“Gonna find you in my dreams,” he whispers into your shoulder and follows you into sleep.

#Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie munson smut #Eddie Munson fanfic #my fic

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radiance1 · 9 months

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The Ghost King and The Lord of Madness know each other.

After enslaving multiple of worlds they were bound to meet. Their relation is... complicated. They were very fierce enemies when they first met, then it turned into a begrudging respect for one another which then turned them into tentative allies at some point.

Then that somehow transformed into love, and they got to gather after multiple eons. Only to then break up a couple eons later, which then made them enemies for a few more eons before they turned into some form of weird friendship and comradery.

Which then made them on and off exes.

Trigon was a bit sad when his friend/ex/lover/husband/ally/enemy just disappeared from his radar, but hey there's this one woman who looks pretty fine over there trying to kill him.

So, after Pariah Dark got released from the coffin and sees a child trying to fight him for his throne, well, he very instantly adopts him after he got back in the coffin and the kid nearly won if he didn't collapse a second away from victory viz placing him back to sleep.

When Pariah and Trigon meet again, they instantly try to kill each other because that's basically their way of saying hello. Not that they did kill each other, mind you, but it's mostly just a habit at this point.

Then they both found out they had kids and, well, it kinda just escalated from there. Pariah mocked him for being defeated by his own kid(with help) multiple times, which makes him a hypocrite since he also almost defeated by his kid too, which Trigon pointed out. The Ghost King shrugged it off however, and asked if his kid was truly strong and to which Trigon gave a thumbs up too.

Then Trigon asked if his own kid was strong and Pariah nodded.

Which then ended up with both of them deciding to just, descend to earth via their own methods (ghost summoning for Pariah and Trigon's kids) and decided to wreak havoc there.

You know, as family bonding.

Raven and the Teen Titans pop up immediately to stop both Trigon and the Ghost King with the Justice league, at least, they were until a glowing ghost teenager popped up trying to stop Pariah.

(He may have played into Danny's whole 'hero' thing by offhandedly mentioning he's going to take over an earth from an alternate dimension and letting those thoughts sit there until he gets up and does something about it.)

You know. As family bonding.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #pariah dark #danny phantom #trigon #raven teen titans #teen titans #the justice league #Pariah Dark and Trigon are basically on and off exes #They've been enemies lovers husbands allies exes #you know the drill #Technically this makes Raven and Danny siblings #But only technically really #Just wait until the entire magical community finds out The Ghost King and Lord of Madness be fauking

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ahhhsami · 5 months

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Mizu’s Womanhood

I keep thinking about how well Mizu’s story was written. A huge factor that makes me love the show is how they show Mizu’s abilities during fight scenes, but don’t forget that she is a woman. On the surface level people could see these fights as amazing action sequences, but there’s so much story being told at the same time. And that’s what makes an action sequence truly great (Warrior HBO is another example of amazing storytelling through fight choreography. Ah Toy's fight against Cleaver and Hammer comes to mind right away when comparing).

We start off by seeing Mizu tear through young men in Shindo Dojo. Her skills are showcased as agile, flexible, fast, and based on her ability to use her body in ways that are fluid. She’s tested as soon as Taigen enters the picture. He’s physically stronger than her, shown in a multitude of ways throughout the action sequence from him throwing her to him pushing her down to her knee, but she’s still more skilled. She uses his weight against him, which she will do in every fight during the series. Mizu beats him due to her agility and speed. On top of that, it is the first time we see a man assume victory be his downfall. And it will happen on multiple occasions.

Episode 2 comes around and Mizu is tested again, but this time by 4 opponents and one who is significantly larger and more trained (Chiaki). Mizu's smart, evaluates her situation, and changes her surroundings by jumping down onto the cliffside. It doesn’t put her at an advantage, but at least she’s not at a severe disadvantage. It allows her to fight mainly one-on-one which changes her circumstances. But it doesn’t win the fight for her. What does is her resilience, adaptability, and skill once more. Once again, in the fight, the man opens himself up for a counter during the finishing blow. Chiaki ran forward, his guard completely down because he was sure he’d won like Taigen.

Episode 5 is where we get to see Mizu struggle due to overwhelming numbers. She’s forced into a corner, but the weapon that saves her is the Naginata. Naginatajutsu has been most associated with female samurai. The added range was a huge advantage and allowed women to protect their homes when their samurai husband were gone. I love that Mizu's first time using the weapon extensively was in a situation where it wasn’t her own life on the line, but also the women of the brothel. It showcased the connection between the Naginata, women, and protection in a beautiful way. Also, her using it during these circumstance felt like she was reclaiming the weapon from the traumas she had experienced during Mikio's betrayal. The parallels of Mizu not just being demonized for her blue eyes, but also for being a woman was stunning in this episode.

In Episode 6, we see Mizu almost lose to the big club man (Okiyama). We see her completely overpowered by the size difference. Okiyama can pick her up easily, throw her, and she’s unable to parry him properly. For the first time we truly see the difference between a man’s strength and hers (which will also be present against Fowler). The fact that both Fowler and him pick her up, and attempt to crush her with their bare arms is so powerful and as a woman, it’s a striking parallel to the real world and the powers of men. She was going to lose the fight if not for her last ditch effort, that also could have resulted in her own death with the bomb. It shows her willingness to sacrifice everything for the quest she's on. And at the end of the episode, Fowler manhandles her completely. It doesn’t matter that she’s injured, it doesn’t matter that he has a gun. What matters in that scene is that he takes pleasure in using his power. He destroys the weak and he lords over them. He uses women as sex slaves. He cares for no one but himself. He is the perfect representation of what Mizu as a woman has to fight against.

There’s no fight scene in Episode 7 of note, but what is important is Mizu’s acceptance of her appearance, whether it be the blue eyes and sharp features, or her womanly features, all of them had once been sources of pain for her. The heart sutra scene is stunning and one of my favorites of the entire series (even if her little toesies were most likely being burned to be so close to the makeshift forge).

And finally Episode 8. We get to see her fight Fowler. I have multiple gripes with the structure of this fight, but it still represents Mizu’s womanhood in a way that continues the flow of the series. Mizu has to use everything to take down Fowler and even when she does she is still overpowered by him. He mirrors Okiyama, easily lifting her and using his strength over her instead of skill. And the line “your bones break like a woman’s” shows the societal norm that men associate with women being weaker, fragile, and unable to withstand what men can. It's fitting of the time period, but also current day too.

But hubris is the man’s downfall in this series because as soon as he lets his guard down, she takes her chance. She breaks free, her rage, need for vengeance, and essential reason for being at this point drive her to beat him. The single line “Oh my dear, that’s your white half showing,” doesn’t just target her being mixed race, but also being a woman. Fowler doesn’t let up there though, he calls her eyes pretty. And not just because they’re blue, but because they’re of a woman’s. He brings up unwanted daughters and digs the knife deeper. And these last lines from Fowler represent everything that Mizu has been combating, everything that has been driving her. There’s so much to her character. The writing in this series shows how multiple compounding factors contribute to a person's drive. And in this instance, it shows how being a woman and half-white has lead to Mizu’s self-hatred and it’s beautiful in such a destructive way.

#blue eye samurai #mizu #I have my gripes with the show but Mizu's character is not one of them lol #Love her/them so much <3 #Taigen #Fowler #Chiaki #Okiyama #long post

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petit-etoile · 7 months

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everything i see, everything i feel (you are my universe)

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount: 8746 content warnings: astarion is not a vampire nor ascended & tav is not the dark urge but i use pet names from his ascended route because i think they fit & some of the dark urge connections are necessary, brief mention of tav being raised as a child soldier by gortash, tav is gender neutral, nearly 8k of pure smut other tags: alternate universe - royalty, character study, porn with plot, dom/sub undertones, mi.ssionary style, do.ggy style, riding, cr.eampie, marriage proposal, sort of archiveofourown: here. note: depending on reception & if i have time, there may be a part two or a prequel. i ended coming up with lore for this verse so i like it a lot. summary: ‘We are the Prince and his Shield,’ Astarion tells you sweetly, voice melodic in your ear. ‘This will be our world. You were made for me, and I was made for you, and we will do as we are meant to do.’

　　　　　　𝐈. ﹕previous fic　　　　𝐈𝐈. ﹕next fic

You can already tell what kind of evening it will be just from the way Astarion looks at you from beneath his eyelashes, so coy and pretty and unabashed in the way he glances over you. Whatever happened tpday at court has pleased him. He practically purrs when he steps past you to enter the sanctuary of his expansive bedroom.

‘You’ll come,’ he murmurs, ‘won’t you, darling?’

You’ll play his game because he likes it. You keep your lips pressed together in a firm line despite the way his hand slides gracefully across your waist, warming the chainmail that you wear dutifully every day so that you can keep the crown prince safe. He pouts when you pretend to not notice the playful mood he’s in. And when you change your mind after only a few minutes, Astarion will wear the same mischievous frown and think he has claimed victory over you once more.

You recite your vows to yourself to keep your mind from wandering, but it’s difficult. I am the Sword of the Crown, the Shield of the Realm. I serve no one but the Rightful King, the First of His Name, the Soul of Truth, Astarion Ancunin. It’s…admittedly hard to remember the rest. You’re distracted by the most impure thoughts. Memories of nights before. The taste of him on your tongue, the feel of him between your thighs, the sight of him as he grinds above you, the gleam of his skin as dawn begins to creep over the horizon. You squeeze your thighs together and try to wait out at least five minutes before you cave.

You peek down the hallway. There are no other guards skulking around at night. You’re not technically supposed to leave your post, but if the prince commands it… Well, it’s an excuse. You rush inside before you can feel the call of your valor and close the door after you with a soft click. Astarion sits with his legs crossed at the edge of his bed. He grins. It’s almost as predictable as you are, but you would never admit it.

‘You called, my prince?’ you ask carefully, trying to keep your tone even.

‘I did,’ he says with a delicate shrug. ‘I thought I could use entertainment, and you were there…’

You smile beneath your helm. You were always there. Astarion tries to hide it a little too much, but there’s no one else he would seek out to keep him entertained when his mood is like this. He tries to play into the expectations everyone has of him. That he’s ambitious, unpredictable, easy to rile up. The truth of the matter is that Astarion longs for you in a way that he will never admit except into the curls of your hair when he thinks you’ve fallen asleep. You care for him — love him — and there’s nothing you adore more than the way he laughs around you as though you were born for him and him alone.

‘I take it the court wasn’t too uneventful,’ you say.

He grimaces. ‘I saw Lord Gortash, unfortunately. I believe the sight of him has ruined my week.’

‘So cruel,’ you hum. You touch the buckles of your cape and release it from your bodice.

‘It’s true, isn’t it?’ Astarion asks defensively, playfully.

You touch the latch of your armor. ‘He’s head of the city guard.’

‘I ought to fire him,’ the prince says darkly. ‘Hire a new one.’

‘Who would protect the city instead?’

‘You,’ Astarion says without pause.

‘Alas, I am duty bound to serve the prince,’ you disagree. You pull the weight of your chest piece off your shoulders and drop it to the floor. ‘How can I serve the city when my mind is filled with nothing but you?’

Astarion smiles, a true smile. ‘Oh, you honor me. You truly mean every word.’

‘Without question,’ you promise.

You think about kneeling before him and looking up at him, but your chest piece is still in the way. You pull and untangle and twist until it all slides to the floor, leaving you in a simpler top. His honor, a single white rose, is pinned to the front of your shirt. You can still remember the day he gave it to you, the day you knelt in the throne room and he pressed his sword to your shoulder to claim you.

‘You are mine,’ Astarion says slowly.

‘I am yours,’ you repeat fondly.

‘Until the end of time?’

‘Until the end.’

‘And,’ Astarion begins playfully, ‘if I asked you to please me?’

‘I would be duty bound,’ you reply.

‘Then may I ask you to please me?’ he murmurs, eyes dangerous.

Astarion practically preens under your careful attention, his eyes unwavering as he watches you. You take your time. You remove the rest of your armor slowly, savoring the hungry way he watches. Even in court when you are his shadow, Astarion barely hides it. The hunger. The longing. The darkest of desires. He would claim you in public if it wouldn’t be a scandal.

You lower yourself before him, groveling on your hands and knees. You place your head in his lap and sigh when he threads his fingers through your hair. These are the moments you live for. When he is no longer a prince and you are no longer a knight. You are you, and Astarion is Astarion.

You don’t have to wonder where his mind is. Not during times like these. He’s anxious to feel you, but you take your time in this. You slip his fancy boots from his feet then take your time undoing his belts and buttons, sliding everything down his lean legs with careful intent. His cock greets you, already half hard and growing still.

It still makes you nervous, deep down inside. Astarion is a prince and the pinnacle of perfection. He could have any duke or duchess he wanted, yet it’s you he takes care of when the standing watch for hours on end from dusk til dawn has caused your bones to grow weary. The least you could do is love him like this. You lean forward and kiss the side of his cock, and Astarion’s fingers tighten in your hair.

‘Please, your highness,’ you whisper.

You are perched at his feet still awaiting commands. Like a good little pup. You shiver.

‘Go on,’ Astarion encourages.

You barely stick the tip of your tongue out and watch as his cock throbs in anticipation. This is dangerous. Obscene, even. You’ve seen him hundreds of times yet it still excites you. Carefully, you take him into your mouth and admire his debauched moan.

You have half a mind to tease him, but when you glance upwards at him, he’s as pretty as an aasimar. Or something worse, but you don’t give yourself much time to think about it. You know his desires. What he enjoys. What he tolerates for you. You know Astarion likes your little hums as you glide your mouth over his cock. He likes being pampered more than anything.

Astarion’s hand is tender as he moves your bangs out of your eyes. It’s the eye contact he wants. He likes to see and always acts like it’s the first time. He holds the edge of your jaw while you rub the tip of his cock against the inside of your cheek, eyebrows scrunching. It’s divine for you as well.

Astarion lives for the pomp and circumstance, absolutely devours court rumors with a delight you barely understand — but he would let his kingdom fall into the Underdark if it meant he could spend every hour of every day fucking you.

It’s the same for you.

It always has been ever since your coronation.

You were not like the other knights who were born into houses of servitude, second born sons and daughters who were the spares of their family names. You were given to Astarion by Lord Gortash as a way to buy favor from the crown. You were once his favorite, well-trained dog.

But unlike Lord Gortash, you are coveted by the crown in a way no other knight has been before. Astarion kisses you every morning and finishes against your spine every evening. But he is your salvation, your savior, and you are on your knees to show what that means to you.

Astarion stirs beneath your ruminations, his thighs tensing beneath your elbows, his hips doing those unconscious lusty jerks that you like so much. His head falls back as he gets lost in the feel of your tongue and mouth and he moans so sweetly that it almost distracts you from your ministrations. You take his cock as far back into your mouth as you can manage, closing your eyes to squeeze out any embarrassing tears that might threaten to fall. Like the prettiest bird, he sings for you.

‘Wait,’ he moans. ‘Not yet, I want — ’

You pull away from him as commanded, licking your lips clean of spit. His hands dance frantically against your shoulders as he pulls you up against him, cock hard against both of your bellies. He kisses you hotly, one hand fisting in your hair and the other tugging uselessly at your shirt.

‘You are needy today, my prince,’ you whisper against a barrage of kisses.

‘You were too perfect,’ he whines. ‘Always perfect for me.’

You laugh against his cheek. ‘You did say to please you.’

‘And now I’m saying to get on the fucking bed,’ Astarion fusses. ‘Oh, and clothes off. I want to see you.’

‘Yes, your — ’ you begin.

‘You,’ Astarion accuses with an affectionate pinch to your side, ‘are being quite the obstinate charge tonight. I want to taste you and be tasted in return, but be familiar with me, my love. Come back to me. Share my bed.’

You are in the middle of doing as he requests, sitting with one leg on either side of his thighs when he slides his hands to your waist and forces you to roll to the side. He pushes you further into the many adorning pillows of his bed and starts devouring you, his mouth dancing from your neck to your collarbones while he tears your shirt apart with his hands, though he does slow down enough to place the white rose on the bedside table. He pushes his palms flat against your chest and leaves bite marks and bruises across your chest and down your belly, chasing after you as you try to squirm away. Astarion finally takes interest in leaving his mark on your throat.

You set to work pushing your leggings and small clothes down your thigh, but Astarion, in all his impatience, gets in the way of that too. He presses his thigh between your legs on purpose, rolling his cock against your hip while his thigh applies almost perfect pressure to the most sensitive parts of you.

You moan and turn your face away, but Astarion chases the sound. He nuzzles your noses together until you look at him, bleary and dazed, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. He rolls his hips again with intent. He catches the sound of your moan on the tip of your tongue and returns it, his own ragged breath warm against your cheek.

‘There you are, my love,’ he whispers deliciously. ‘I’ve missed you. My treasure, my pet…’

‘Yours,’ you moan.

‘Mine,’ Astarion agrees. ‘All mine.’

He drags his fingernails across the swell of your hip, and you can’t help but chase the curve of his wrist. Your cheeks burn, but you’re tempted to beg him. To ask if he’ll please you with his hands. You want to feel his fingers pressed up inside you, to feel them curl and twist. You want it more than anything else you’ve ever wanted to. Astarion watches the way you twist and turn with a small smile on his face. He pets your hip and slides his fingers between your thighs. You can feel the cool of his jeweled rings against your heated flesh.

Astarion is grateful for your reckless display. He acquiesces to your silent begging, brushing his fingers between your folds and pressing the tip of his middle finger against you. He watches with delight as you grind against the pressure. His cheeks and the tips of his pointed ears are ruddy, and though he’s pretending to be controlled right now, you can hear how shaky his breath has become.

And then, like a god answering a prayer, he presses a finger inside of you so painstakingly slow it’s almost maddening. You mewl, watching his expressions in fascination, because his own mouth falls open as he cranes his next to watch. He adds another. He twists and twirls his fingers as deeply as he can reach it. His eyes flutter with desperation. He’s so beautiful that you can hardly stand it. You want more, so much more, and you press your wrist against your mouth to keep from begging.

‘Don’t hide from me,’ he says hoarsely. ‘I want to hear everything. Please, sing for me.’

‘More,’ you whisper thickly. ‘More, I need more, I want more.’

He kisses your jaw sloppily. ‘I’ll give you everything.’

‘It’s not enough!’

‘You’ll take it,’ Astarion tells you. ‘You’ll take what I give.’

‘Astarion,’ you weep. ‘I want you. I want — ’

This time, he might as well have ripped the rest of your clothes with his haste. You aren’t sure what he does with them, you just know that you’re naked and in his bed, surrounded by all his pillows with your thighs slick from how wet you are.

Your eyes watch your star’s every movement. He rids himself of his finery as well, shrugging out of his layers until there’s nothing left. The moonlight hits his skin prettily, almost as dainty as the way his eyes catch in the candlelight. He chases you, chases your mouth, presses his cock against you and ruts for a moment. You can’t help but be dizzy with lust yourself. You leave your own marks across his collarbones and chest, mindful of his neck and what skin would peek above his elegant collars. You wonder how he’ll take you. Astarion has always been the creative type. Sometimes you’ll ride him, and sometimes he’ll ride you until you see stars. Despite his urgency, he seems tender tonight.

Astarion wants to make you feel good. He wants to find your heat and bask in the warmth. You can tell in the way he watches your face ever so fondly. He’s always been so good at masking how much he prefers you to anyone he’s spoken to before. You’ve stood and listened as the perfect guard during meetings with dignitaries from neighboring cities, and Astarion always spoke to them with practiced politeness bearing a practiced albeit bored undertone. Yet with you, he seems to hang onto your every word. He takes it in until there was nothing left to share. He cares when you are supposed to be nothing more than a knight at his door.

‘I have a gift for you tonight,’ Astarion says suddenly. He blushes. It’s adorable how much it’s unlike him.

‘What is it?’ you ask.

‘Patience,’ he complains, but he doesn’t mean it.

Astarion reaches for something just beyond your sight, and when he sits back up, you feel as though someone has released a cage of birds in the pit of your stomach. He holds out a small silver band for your inspection. ‘A warding ring,’ he explains. ‘I had my Master of the Arcane enchant it for you — for us.’

‘Kiss me,’ you whisper. ‘Please.’

‘Put it on first,’ he insists. ‘For me.’

Something must show on your face, because he’s quick to show you his own hand. There is a matching silver band there, and it causes your heart to swell so much you think your heart will give out. Astarion, with great care, slides the band onto your finger and then looks at you, hopeful.

‘Whatever you feel, I shall feel,’ he says like a promise. ‘You and I, together.’

You guide his mouth to yours before you can do something silly like cry. When you touch his chest, intent on finding his heartbeat, you can feel it so frantic against your palm.

What is a better story than a prince and his knight? A savior and his sword? The bards will sing forever about the prince and his favored knight, their matching rings, their sacred vows. You ache with longing. You surge with love. It is all Astarion’s fault.

You push your hands through his thick curls and guide him to lie on top of you. You can feel the ring humming with magic. Though you are sure this isn’t its intended use, you can’t help but feel nervous.

You take him into your arms. He collapses into you and your only thought is that it’s a little poetic. You have caught a star as it fell from the sky. Now, it rests in your hands again and again and again until, slowly, you cannot exist without one another. His mouth finds yours, and your hands with the matching rings reach out for one another as though choreographed. Astarion presses you against his sheets and you willingly let him devour you once more. It’s all you’ve ever wanted.

Astarion kisses down your chest again. He kisses your tummy and all the muscle you’ve earned from being a knight. He kisses every scar from every battle you’ve ever endured all the way down to your hips, to that warm core that lies between them. You moan unapologetically, head rushing until you’re almost positive you’re going to faint. Astarion presses a kiss between your legs, growls as though he was a man starved before finding you, and takes you into his mouth.

It’s a little romantic how you’ve grown together. You were each other’s firsts — Astarion taught you how to kiss, and you taught him how to fondle someone else’s body without feeling shy about it. You had first used your mouth on him, but he had taken all of the knowledge you had given and weaponized it against you the next moment that he could. He’s determined to please, desperate for compliments, hopeless in all his endeavors to please you almost as much as you’ve pleased him. But unlike you, Astarion is selfish and he reaches for fruit to pluck that anyone else would have discarded as soon as something better came along. He chose you.

He licks and bites and nuzzles and feasts upon the very fruit of you, groaning at how you taste. It’s his favorite taste in the world, and he would brag about it if it didn’t make your cheeks flush. He laps at your folds hungrily and squeezes the thickness your thighs until they’ve bruised.

‘Little star,’ you whine, pressing your hands to your eyes. ‘Please, please.’

His tongue is like torture. Astarion never does anything without fully committing, and from your time together, you know he’s memorized every little thing he can do to drive you absolutely wild. He’s pulled your legs over his shoulders, his fingers moving on after bruising them to dig into your hip bones, and he hums so prettily for you.

Even you aren’t sure what you’re begging for. You want Astarion to stop teasing you so insistently. You want to feel his heartbeat, you want to taste his lips. There’s a part of you so empty and full of longing that if you wait any longer, if you withhold anymore, you might lose yourself. The only thing serving to ground you to this world is depravity, twisting carnal lust, and the depths of your love. You shiver under his touch and moan even as you try to hush it.

‘ — star!’ you cry sharply.

You try to twist out of his grasp, crying at how determined he is, but Astarion simply drags you back down to where he is as if it’s nothing to him. He doesn’t stop torturing with your tongue until you’ve choked out a sob and chased your release, chest heaving from the effort. He doesn’t let you go for long either, climbing up your body so that he can press encouraging kisses to your jaw, pushing your damp curls back from your temple.

Astarion pushes his nose against your ear and breathes in, almost so desperate to have memorized your very scent. It’s always been his little habit. As if just by knowing your smell, he is able to do whatever he needs to accomplish in this world.

‘You,’ he murmurs between kisses, ‘are always so magnificent for me.’

You reach for his hip, the back of your knuckles sweeping against his sharp bone. ‘I want to do the same for you,’ you say shakily. ‘Let me have you, please. It’s all I want.’

He moans, soft and quiet, and settles between your legs. He kisses you again with that same hunger. The same, almost desperate kind of lust. He presses you so far into his sheets that you’re not sure you’ll ever be released from them again. And you think you would be fine with that. There’s nothing more that you want than to stay here with him. His hands joined with yours, your hips pressed to his, forever until the world has ended.

You slide your hands across the broad sweep of his shoulders and feel as his muscles shift. He is so gentle with you even when he doesn’t have to be. He’s cautious, meticulous, almost ridiculously polite because it’s you. His love is like an apology for everything you’ve been through, and when he cradles the back of your head, you lean into his touch.

‘You are mine,’ he says tenderly. His thumb sweeps across your cheek.

‘Take me,’ you say hungrily. ‘I am your prize.’

‘You were created by the gods for me,’ Astarion tells you sincerely. He sits onto his knees and pulls your hands flush against his stomach. ‘Look at how well you fit against me.’

You were never one to be shy before, but his praise causes you to turn your cheek aside and look away. He pushes his hands up your thighs, searching, admiring. He says pretty words, but he’ll never understand if you were to repeat the things he’s said back to him. Underneath that prestigious bravado and practiced façade, Astarion still understands little of his own divinity and worth. You’re thankful for him as much as he is for you, and you allow him this. He finds his worth at your core and marvels in it, allowing you to see him as Astarion. Like a mortal making a deal with a cambion, he reaches for you.

‘Do you want me inside of you?’ he asks in a graveled voice.

‘More than anything else,’ you reply, choking on how thick your want is. You think about how it feels every time he’s claimed you and shudder. ‘Please.’

‘I am going to get lost in you for hours,’ Astarion promises. He smiles, dangerous and dark. ‘When you return to your post, you’ll feel me still. You’ll be sorer than you’ve ever been.’

You are so aroused it’s painful. You ache and twist, spreading your legs so that he might take you then and there without so much as a second thought. You need the closeness. His grounding touch. His cock, as much as it would embarrass you to say aloud, has been on your mind ever since he invited you inside his room. He strokes your hip.

‘You’re shaking,’ he says fondly.

He leans forward and kisses you. He connects with you like that, nose brushing yours affectionately, before he stares at the little shivers you’re now aware you’re doing. He sees everything, knows everything. It delights him.

And then he slides his cock into you. Slowly, agonizingly, inch by inch. He squeezes your hip in encouragement, but you’re too full and he’s too thick for you to manage any coherent thought. He’s determined to reach the deepest parts of your core.

Astarion speaks through gritted teeth. ‘You are perfect.’

‘No,’ you say. ‘You are.’

‘I like to watch,’ he says honestly. ‘I like to see how you take me. You’re so tight here, did you know?’

‘More — ’

‘Use your words for me.’

You swallow. ‘I want you — to fuck me.’

‘You’ve been a good pup,’ Astarion says with a small laugh. ‘I’ll make love to you until dawn calls.’

For the faintest few heartbeats, this is the only way you want to exist. He is pressed inside of you, and you are surrounded by nothing but him and his scent and his bed and his pretty words, longing so intently to memorialize this moment. Astarion is haloed by the silver moonlight. He shines prettier than the crown he wears at court.

He shines brighter than the stars.

You’re aware of how fragile your breathing sounds. You forcefully drag air down into your lungs and hold his gaze, so warm and soft when he looks at you. You don’t know why it’s so different this time with him, but you reach out until he entwines your fingers together and you lose yourself in a way you haven’t before. You don’t realize you’re crying until he coos at you and calls you beautiful.

Astarion only moves once he’s assured you’re not in any pain. He’s conscious of the way you tense, but you shake your head and try to dry your tears.

If you’re being honest, you aren’t really sure why you’re so emotional tonight. You’re ignoring what the rings promise on purpose. A meaning that you are too nervous to confront. You know it’s how much you wish this was your fate. It all comes to a boil when he leans forward and kisses the tip of your ear. Astarion wraps his arms around you and moans softly in your ear, the heat of his cheek flush against your temple.

‘I love you,’ he whispers.

‘I can feel you,’ you whisper back, voice uneven. ‘All the way inside.’

‘Our souls are touching tonight,’ Astarion promises you. ;This is what I want to give you.’

Once he’s assured that you’re fine, Astarion begins moving inside you. You still feel overly full. It’s almost difficult to breathe, that you’re so aware of how deep his cock is inside of you — as if it’s the first time you’ve experienced him before. He murmurs encouragement into your hair and ruts further and further, but when you press your fingers against his biceps, you can feel how he’s shaking too.

‘Let me be yours,’ you say softly, eyes fluttering closed. ‘Let me be with you, Astarion, please.’

‘You are my pretty consort,’ Astarion says fiercely. ‘You belong to me, and I to you.’

His consort, his knight. The one he comes home to, that he ignores all the other lovely people at court for. The idea of it makes your blood warm, makes you feel a little wild and different. You rock your hips back against Astarion’s. Feeling him lose what little of his control pushes you over the edge. You start mumbling nonsensically, thank you, thank you, my prince, my star, thank you, I feel it, Astarion and he growls low in the bottom of his throat. His hips stutter against yours and you know with a little wiggle, you could make him spend then and there.

It’s only when Astarion pushes into you as far as he can go, the tip of his cock pressed as deep into your core as you can handle it, that you remember what a devout worshiper you are. You’re fully aware of how your spine protests the way your back arches up off the bed. You feel Astarion’s mouth hot and desperate against the side of your throat, his hands slowly sliding down your skin to grip your hips, the tips of his fingers digging in harshly to the curve of your ass.

When you dare meet his gaze, you’re mesmerized.

Astarion has always been the most beautiful person you’ve ever set eyes on. The height of his cheekbones, the way they flush when you moan his name. His uneven smile, the way his teeth point when he laughs. His intense eyes that take in even your faintest moves. He is sharp and calculated, cunning and keen on dramatics — but underneath, you can see the gentler side. The warmth in his gaze. The way he laughs ugly with you instead of with practiced finesse. You fit rather well together. Perfectly, like a puzzle. Intoxicatingly. He catches you staring and his breath catches in his throat.

You must be quite the sight as well. Astarion always lavished you with the utmost attention, often buying you things you’d never need as a knight. Rings, gowns, circlets and other finery to wear with him on your occasional strolls through Baldur’s Gate when you were off-duty and carefree.

You feel nearly feral at this moment. It takes all your self-control to not rake your nails down his spine or bite his shoulder because you’re too full and he’s too much and you’re almost certain you’re going to explode, but you wrap your legs around his hips and pull him tighter to you until there’s almost nothing else he can do that grind uselessly, desperate sounds coming from both of your mouths as you try to hold on just a little longer.

Without thinking, without caution, you whisper, ‘Inside — Tonight, I want you to — ’

‘Gods,’ he chokes out. ‘You’ll be the death of me.’

‘Please,’ you beg. ‘I’ve been good. I’ve been — ’

Astarion burrows his face against your collarbone, whining unceremoniously. That’s when you can feel it, his cum, hot and warm, so wonderful and dizzying that you also forget to be dignified. Your fingers stutter against his skin, and if it was painful to experience, the only proof is the way Astarion hisses at the burn and coils dangerously beneath your touch.

‘That’s it,’ he soothes proudly. ‘You’ve done well, my sweet.’

You murmur, ‘So much.’

‘Don’t tease me,’ Astarion says. He pouts his bottom lip. ‘You’re quite beautiful, you know.’

‘Not as beautiful as you,’ you say.

‘Well,’ Astarion allows with a small laugh, ‘I am rather perfect, I agree.’

He groans when he pulls away from you, brow furrowed in concentration. He trembles with exertion, and whatever other plans he might have had are forgotten, for Astarion drops down into his sheets beside you in all his naked and exhausted glory and presses close to you, an arm thrown over your waist.

A pang of guilt hits you at the sight of his closed door. Your armor is thrown carelessly across this floor, and while you wish you could enjoy this moment of bliss with him, you must continue to do your actual duty of guarding the prince. You move, delicate, to stand up. Astarion wraps his other arm around you.

‘Where are you going?’ he demands tiredly. ‘The sun is not yet up. Come back.’

‘My post — ’

‘Fuck your post,’ he snorts. ‘Your only duty is to lie in my bed and look pretty.’

You open your mouth to protest, but Astarion fusses. It’s hard to deny him even though you know only what the Captain of his Kingsguard has instilled in you. The moonlight is a gorgeous embellishment on his skin, and the ridges of his body are enticing enough that you forget your vows for the time being. Your heart squeezes at the tenderness. Astarion welcomes you back into his arms without further complaint. It’s your turn to tuck your head against his shoulder, basking in the warmth of his body as he cradles you close.

‘This is where you belong,’ Astarion tells you plainly. ‘You and I belong in bed having forgotten our other duties forevermore. The kingdom may fall to rot and ruin for all I care. As long as I have you, I care not.’ He touches your hip. ‘I know what you must be thinking. That it isn’t that easy. But it is that easy. I’m the prince and I want it to be so. I see our fate in my dreams.’

You allow yourself to daydream and doze for the moment. He’s murmuring sweet things into your hair, and your eyes are so heavy you know when you close them, it’ll be hard for you to wake up if you give in. The ache in your muscles is comforting. It’s a reminder of all the ways Astarion has ever had you, and you can’t help but wonder if this really is where your life was always meant to head.

You do fall asleep. Despite your best efforts to stay awake, you fall into a peaceful slumber with Astarion’s hand petting your spine. When you next awake, Astarion is no longer at your side. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed staring out of the window watching as dawn begins to peek through.

He hasn’t left you entirely alone. He’s draped his many fancy satin blankets over you and somehow managed to coax your head onto a pillow without waking you. You’re almost inspired to fall back asleep at the sight, but the view of Astarion basking in an orange glimmer keeps you from entering the depths of your mind once more.

‘No,’ Astarion says. He’s smiling. ‘Don’t move. I like the way you look.’

‘And how do I look, your highness?’

‘Sated.’

‘Come back to me, my love,’ you say. You try to hold one of your hands out, but you’re still so very tired from before. You press your cheek further into the pillow. ‘’m cold.’

‘I was thinking,’ he says.

‘Enough thinking,’ you whine. ‘I miss you beside me.’

‘Promise me something first.’

‘What shall I promise?’

‘That when I am king, you will help me create my new world,’ Astarion says, peering affectionately at you from over his shoulder. ‘A world where you are both my shield and my consort. A world where no one else like us has to get hurt.’

You start to sit up at that, blood suddenly rushing to your head as you try to think of what he means. Were you not already his Shield, extending your Sword to his greatest foes? Were you not already his Consort in all but proper name? You furrow your eyebrows, too sleepy and overwhelmed, but Astarion is quick to come to your side, to press kisses into your hair and against your ear and at the tears on your cheeks.

‘When I am king, there will be no need for us to hide like this,’ Astarion promises, petting his hand comfortingly down your spine. He shushes you. ‘I will sit on the throne and you will sit beside me.’ When he’s certain you’re done crying, he adds, ‘Or in my lap, if you prefer.’

Somehow, there’s only one thing you can manage to say. ‘I love you.’

‘And I love you,’ Astarion says. ‘That’s why I will do this for us.’

‘Will it go well?’

He hums. ‘Of course it will go well. I will be king. I will make it go well.’

You say again, ‘I love you.’

‘We are the Prince and his Shield,’ Astarion tells you sweetly, voice melodic in your ear. ‘This will be our world. You were made for me, and I was made for you, and we will do as we are meant to do.’

‘I promise,’ you say, ‘to help you.’

‘Then say no more, my love,’ he whispers. He kisses the side of your throat again and slowly pulls his silk sheets away from your skin. The cold morning air leaves a trail of gooseflesh down your spine, and he tastes every knot of it with his mouth and tongue. He gives you commands, ‘Let me have you again. You’re so beautiful in the morning light. I need you now more than ever. Gods, the things you do to me.’

You rock your hips back to meet his. It’s an alluring situation straight from your wildest, most longing of dreams — a world where you might sit alongside Astarion as he rules, no longer a simple guard dog to follow commands, but something else. Something sweeter.

It was like marriage but better. The thought of you and Astarion rising to godhood through his own determined means rather than falling into the same song the bards often liked to play on unrequited love. You allow him to trace his fingers down your stomach to that place between your legs, your warm core where you’re certain he’s found his divinity. Astarion presses his cock against your lower back and gives into his own avarice. He bites your shoulder almost a touch too rough and leaves a bruise in the shape of his teeth, reveling in your shocked cry.

You want him.

You want to be by his side, to kneel at his feet. You want to watch him dress in the mornings and fall into his arms every evening. You want to place his crown atop his brow. You arch your hips against his waist, and ponder about the creation of the empyrean heavens above. You will guide him to become celestial.

It’s with a near untamed fervor that Astarion tears through his sheets to get to you. He slides his knee beneath yours and pushes it forward, his breath warm and hiccuped against the blade of your shoulder. He doesn’t hurt you and he never would, but he slides his cock inside, the tenderness of earlier forgotten.

‘Be loud,’ he encourages you, groaning, his hand still scrambling against the arc of your belly. He sounds debauched. ‘Let them all hear. Let them know.’

He fucks into you like he wants you both to grow together. One body and one soul. You’re glad for it. It only intensifies the burn from the evening and pushes you to a place you’ve never been before. You’re almost certain you see sparks in your vision, but you do as asked. You don’t swallow down your moans. They’re taut, sharp, staccato ah-ah-ahs that match the sun’s rise.

It’s almost sweet how hard Astarion fucks into you. His princely demeanor is gone now, the control he tries to exhibit. He moans freely as well and kisses without meaning. Your shoulder, the back of your head, the nape of your neck, and he’s babbling things that don’t make sense. But you’re no better. Your cheeks are so warm you’re feverish, hands clenched in his sheets, and the pleasure borders on welcomed pain when he sits up behind you, knee still forcing you to be pliant, as he drags his cock in and out of you from behind. Astarion is watching again, one hand on your lower back, the other on your ass. When you try to hide your face in mild embarrassment, he scolds you.

‘Let me see you,’ Astarion rasps. ‘Let me see, I want to see everything — ’

So you let him, shifting and arching as much as your back will let you. Your muscles feel strained. Your mind is hardly there. But the prince has asked, and it would be rude of you to not heed his call. It’s not as though it matters. You’re easily distracted by the way he presses himself in and out of you, intoxicated by the gravitational pull he’s created between you. You can’t help but lean into his every touch, to mewl, to whine the exact way he likes.

You wonder what Lord Gortash would think of his loyal dog if he saw it now. You were taught the blade and the bow, how to use a lance and a shield, and you were never meant to be anything more than a warrior given to the ground so that he could get on the good side of the king. There isn’t much of your life you can remember before you were brought to the steps of the throne room and thrown down before the prince and his father. All you remember is looking up and seeing an angel smiling down at you.

So you arch your back and push up into your elbows, looking over your shoulder to catch Astarion’s eyes. He’s constantly looking between your face to make sure you’re alright and looking down at your hips where your bodies meet. He has the audacity to blush. It makes him look sweet and less severe.

‘More — ’

The fairest thought you have is that you’re not sure you can take more. There’s something ferocious building in the pit of your stomach, a volatile hunger unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. Your almost delirious with how much greed is inside you, how you long to do this all day if you could. Sitting pretty on your hands and knees and belly while Astarion ravishes you — forgetting your duties and the kingdom — but it’s somehow worse than before when you’re aware that he would do the same. Gone is any sense of decency, replaced by something carnal, something infernal.

Just when you think he might be done with you, Astarion pulls out and drags your body along. He lays handsomely in the center of his pillows, a deep blue and rich satin and silk display, and pulls you into his lap. His bottom lip is ruined from where he’s bitten it in an attempt to maintain control.

He arranges for you as he likes. He tilts his head to the side as if looking upon a painting. Finally, he coaxes you upwards and whispers kind encouragements as you guide and slide his cock back inside of you. You aren’t sure how far it can go, but then it goes deeper and deeper and deeper until you’re sick.

‘Oh,’ you cry sweetly. ‘It’s too much. It’s too much, I can’t — ’

‘You can,’ Astarion promises, rubbing his thumb across your hip. ‘You can do anything. You were made for me, and I was made for you, and we were created for this.’

You sit atop him, your ass flush against his hips, and try desperately to not squirm in his lap. The wiggling makes it worse, you think. You feel swollen around him. He feels thickest inside of you. And you can’t help but lean forward as he rubbs his hands up and down your spine, kissing your temple and cheek and jaw. You can kiss him better this way. You can taste the sweetness of his mouth, taste his words.

‘I love you,’ you say over and over.

‘I know,’ he murmurs, kissing your tears.

And you do cry in this position, overwhelmed and stuttering. Astarion guides your hips back and forth across his so that he’s not necessarily drilling inside of you, but watching how you dance across his cock. He always watches so intently as if he’s afraid to miss anything you do. He guides you intently, humming, tensing beneath your thighs as you try to balance yourself with your hands on his belly.

Astarion moans at the sight. He sounds positively wrecked. You decide that you want to hear him sing for you again, so you raise your hips this time and slide them back down. You squeeze your eyes shut in concentration, treating it more like trying to hit a tricky shot with an arrow rather than taking and un-taking every inch of his cock. You’re trembling so much that you seek out his hands, guiding them away from your hips so he can tuck them under your thighs for help.

‘Ah,’ Astarion says hoarsely. ‘Fuck.’

And that’s how he helps you, his hands helping carry your weight so that you can bounce on his cock and enjoy every minute of it. The physical strain is worth it. You know Astarion likes to watch, possessive of the way you look and ride, and his eyes shine with a certain kind of deviance that you’ve grown to love.

It’s a long way from where you started as a poor soul standing on the steps, but you lean forward and kiss your raison d'être on his open mouth, savoring the way his bruised lip tastes in your mouth, enjoying just how much he enjoys you. The sunlight warms your skin and basks Astarion in a golden glow, so impossibly handsome that they should write songs about the way he looks after a night of lovemaking. He groans, trapping your bottom lip between his teeth and bites down hard enough you’re almost certain he’s drawn blood.

You don’t mind it. You welcome the rougher things, enjoy them as much as he does. You lean back, hands now behind you on his thighs, and try to not feel too self-conscious about how open you’re being with your body. You’re encouraged to do it. His reactions are what drive you to be better. Because Astarion’s eyes widen slightly to take in the sight of your legs spread apart as you sit on his cock, your skin shining with a delicate veil of sweat. He comes with a rough moan.

Gods, you could listen to the sound of him all day.

You fall forward onto Astarion’s chest. Your limbs feel like nothing after a night of increasingly more difficult sex, but it’s worth it for the way he spoils you after. Astarion kisses you nice and slow, lips and tongue and teeth, as if an apology for the roughness you willingly endured. He cradles you close to his body. He always seeks your warmth, always tries to press as close as he can.

It’s your turn to preen under his careful ministrations. Astarion pushes your sweaty hair back from your face and runs the tips of his fingers across your cheekbones and forehead, following the delicate lines of your bone structure. He lightly pinches your cheeks as if to savor the heat of your blush, but it doesn’t hurt when he does it. He kisses them better. He helps you slide back down into his sheets and takes note of the mess, smoothing his fingers against the bruises and love bites he’s left as gifts against your skin.

Astarion takes gentle care as he lifts your hand. He admires the ring on it and watches as he slides his fingers into yours so that his ring can crowd the empty spaces of your fingers. He kisses the back of your hand like a proper prince and then unceremoniously collapses down by your side, boneless and lazy.

‘You’ve made a mess,’ you accuse him sleepily.

‘I made you happy,’ Astarion corrects.

You reach out and touch his throat. ‘You’ve ruined your sheets.’

‘These sheets are perfect, my love,’ he murmurs. ‘Just like you.’

Later in the morning, after you’ve rested again despite your attempts to stay awake, you’re coaxed back into existence by Astarion’s lips dancing softly against the nape of your deck. You’re almost certain he’s going to ask for more — a thought that startles you — but instead he lifts you from the depths of his blankets and carries you to a bathing tub in the corner of his quarters. He lowers you into freshly warmed water, and you try to not let how much you long for him show.

‘The maids — ’

‘They’ve seen you,’ he says with a shrug. ‘But they did not care. You should have heard the way they swooned over us.’

He lavishes you again with rose petals and fancy perfumes and soaps. He guides a cloth over your skin and even massages a rather determined knot in your hip. You lean into his touch, eyes fluttering closed. You’d let him pamper you for the next month if you could.

‘I will have you like this often,’ Astarion warns. ‘Tonight. Every night. You have no idea what you’ve done to me. It’s like you’ve enchanted me.’

He’s climbed in with you at this point, tucked behind you so that he can style your hair in a plait. He likes the way it’s gotten long. You can tell how hard he’s thinking by how silent he is. His fingers trickle water down your spine and occasionally trace the shape of a petal against your skin. You shiver and allow him these idle distractions, basking in his touches and singing while he allows himself to wander in his lost thoughts. You fall asleep again briefly, lulled into a dream by the warmth and the relaxing scents of the many perfumes and Astarion humming softly in your ear.

Astarion washes your chest again to avoid having to leave the bath. He’s in one of his contemplative moods, eyes somewhere a thousand miles away, lips twisted in curiosity. You would’ve stayed forever as well, but the water is slowly getting colder and you’re beginning to shiver. You look over your shoulder at him. You watch as his eyelashes flutter and close as if he too is moments away from falling asleep, but then you see it. A sign of melancholic hope.

‘You and I belong together,’ you tell him.

‘We are the greatest match together the world has ever seen,’ Astarion agrees. ‘There is no one else.’

‘It is an honor,’ you say. You catch a petal in your palm and show him.

He pulls your fingers up to his mouth with his own hand guiding you. He kisses your palm and the petal, and then each of your fingertips one by one.

‘I’m doing this for you, you know,’ he murmurs.

‘You are doing this for us,’ you say, shaking your head. ‘We are a family.’

‘We are more than a family,’ he insists. ‘We are more than lovers. Our souls belong together.’

‘I’ve never been happier,’ you say.

Whatever world Astarion is imagining, you’re beginning to see it too. A world where being a king means more than throwing extravagant parties and hosting masquerades and balls and ignoring those in need. Astarion cares because you care, and that makes your heart squeeze dangerously. You are with Astarion when he usurps his father’s court. He had called them weak-willed men in front of his own council, his lip curled in distaste. They had allowed a shadow ruler to take his father’s place for years, had controlled the crown like a puppeteer would his prized puppet. And now, Astarion has pulled together enough favor to overthrow those who had betrayed him, who had betrayed you, and who had betrayed Baldur’s Gate most of all.

‘I believe you are sitting in my chair,’ Astarion calmly tells Ketheric Thorm.

The removal of the pretenders is fairly certain. Ketheric’s own daughter Isobel aids in his arrest. The installation of Astarion’s council is relatively easy with such esteemed replacements. Wyll Ravengard takes his father’s place as Lord Commander of the Flaming Fist. Karlach takes Enver Gortash’s place as leader of the city guard, betrayed as you were, and her eyes burn with heat when she pulls him from his tower. Gale and Shadowheart had been planning the entire thing for years behind the scenes, favoring Astarion against the old court. All you do is stand beside Astarion with your hand on the hilt of your blade though no one dared raise their arms against him.

Astarion’s coronation takes place later that week, and even with all the planning, he does not allow you to stray from his side. You are with him when meeting with the emissaries Lady Lae’zel and Lord Halsin and Lady Jaheira. You are with him during his fittings. You are with Astarion the night before when he fucks you so hard you see stars.

You are there the day of his coronation. He is dressed in brilliant reds and off-whites and wears a crown with rubies. You stand alongside him in the armor he commissioned for you styled after Dame Aylin’s and hold the sword gifted to you from the crown.

It is a wedding as well.

A wedding of peace and resilience. A wedding of love and understanding.You drop down before him to one knee and swear anew your vows, though now they taste sweeter on your tongue. I am the Sword of the Crown, the Shield of the Realm, the Consort of the Chosen. I serve no one but the Rightful King, the First of His Name, the Soul of Truth, Astarion Ancunin. When you rise, Astarion kisses you.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x oc #astarion smut #bg3 smut #from ，carcosa .#my fic #* et toi，et moi

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weneeya · 2 months

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Can I request something? Some silly banter with Suguru as a teen? Maybe over an arcade game neither him or reader want to lose?

Stupid fight

fluff with Geto

love this omg this is my first request with Suguru and lord I love this man <3

“You’re a loser, and I’ll show it to you!” your voice was almost too loud for the public place you were in. People were looking at you and Suguru, fighting over some arcade game. You had been here for way too long already, but none of you wanted to lose: it was a question of honor.

“Ha! I can’t wait to see your crying face when you’ll lose,” answered the teenager, a grin on his lips. Suguru always seemed more mature and calm than Satoru, when he was with you, he felt like he was becoming a child once again. You two were always fighting over stupid things, even if it was never serious.

In the end, Suguru won the game. He raised his arms to the sky, claiming his victory while you were all pouty. You hated this, you deserved to win! You fought so hard, and yet Suguru was still better than you at this game. You crossed your arms and turned your back to him, deciding to ignore him for the rest of the day. He obviously saw you, and a smile appeared on his lips.

“Come on, you’re not going to sulk, right?” he asked, and you didn’t give him any answer. You were acting like a child, but he couldn’t blame you. He loved seeing you all pouty because he defeated you ; you were adorable.

He rested his chin on your shoulder, his hands slowly moving to stroke your arms softly. He knew what he was doing, he knew you were always melting to his touch when he was acting like this. “Please,” he said in a low voice, way too close to your ear. “Look at me.”

You felt your face burning, and you hated the effect he had on you. Even if you wanted to ignore him, you weren’t able to do it. You were weak for this boy, and everybody knew it. You turned around to finally meet his gaze, a pout still on your face. He couldn’t help but to chuckle slightly at how cute you looked right now, with this blush across your face.

Suguru slowly moved his hand to your cheek, before his fingers grabbed your chin with all the softness in the world. “Better, I prefer to see your eyes looking at me,” he said and you swore that your heart was going to explode.

“Let’s make another one, mh? Maybe you’ll win this time,” he offered, and you slowly shook your head. You weren’t that much in the mood to keep playing, but after all, you needed to show him who was the real champion.

This is how you two ended up playing at the arcade for a way too long time. The only thing that made you stop was the owner telling you that he was closing. You left the place together, still fighting over who was the real winner of today. You beated him at the game, yes ; but being able to walk back to the dorm with your hand in his was making him the real winner in his eyes.

maybe I got a bit carried away, yes, but pls understand me this man is driving me crazy! hope you'll like it anyway <3

#jjk hcs #jjk headcanons #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen hcs #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto headcanons #geto hcs #geto fluff

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starryevermore · 1 month

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the house of snow (12) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board| ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his.

chapter summary: you can’t believe that this is truly a good thing.

word count: 2,822

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, a hint of fluff, a hint of angst, pet name (petal), not proofread

note: ok the smut isn’t the greatest bc i’ve been out of commission for a while but hopefully it gets better as the series progresses

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

You tried to time your breathing with each tick of the grandfather clock in a desperate plea to not have a meltdown on your wedding night. Your new lady’s maid had just left you after helping you remove your gown. Now, you were left waiting, wearing only a silky red robe, for Coryo to arrive. You fought the urge to bite down on your fingernails. Why had your mother said anything about what your wedding night would be like? With the way your nerves were grating on you, you almost wished you were going into this with blissful ignorance.

You crossed the room and stood in front of the large window that overlooked the grounds. Breathing in time to the ticks wasn’t doing you any good, so perhaps occupying your mind with the outside world would help. But as you looked over the rose gardens and the stables and the distant pond, your mind kept trailing back to where you were, what you were wearing, and what was going to happen.

A pair of cold hands settled on your waist. You yelped, jerking away. When you turned, ready to strike, your husband stood before you. Husband. What a strange thing to call Coryo now. You had known this day was coming, but now that it was here…It felt different. Not like you would have expected.

Coryo raised his hands and took a step back. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, petal,” he said.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” you said, adjusting your robe to cover you more. It mattered little, of course, but it brought you some comfort.

“My apologies,” he said. He sounded sincere enough. Could he be sincere? If you could believe your father, that Coriolanus had asked for your hand three times before he was told yes on the fourth, maybe he could. Unless it was all an elaborate ruse, some way for him to lord this final victory over your head. The one time he could truly win.

“It’s alright.” It wasn’t. It was. How could one man—how could Coryo—scramble your thoughts like this?

Satisfied that you weren’t upset with him, he took a step toward you again. You fought the urge to back yourself against the window, pray that it might fall out and take you with it. He raised his hand, caressing your face. You allowed yourself to lean into it. Your eyes fluttered shut as he stroked his thumb over the swell of your cheek.

“I love you,” he whispered.

You fought to keep your mouth from falling open. Love? Did he truly? You weren’t sure how much you believed it. When you were still in school, you once told Sejanus you were sure Snow had a heart of ice. The idea that he could love anyone…It felt laughable.

“I love you, my beautiful wife,” he repeated.

Were you supposed to say it back? It would have aided your act, to be sure. But you were half-certain that if you said those three words with even an ounce of insincerity, he would know. He would know, and you would be left dealing with whatever horrible aftermath he would deal you.

His lips pressed against your forehead. “I just wanted you to know.”

Maybe you should’ve said it back, if only to lessen the blow. Because Coryo looked stricken as you said, “Please…don’t hurt me.”

He pulled away, his hands falling your shoulders. If it was to brace himself, or to keep you from crumbling, you weren’t sure. “What? Why would you think I—?”

“My mama said that this…hurts. That it can hurt. That women seldom feel pleasure from it.”

Rage flickered in his pale blue eyes. “And she thought I would hurt you?”

“I…She just wanted me to be prepared for what might happen.”

“Petal, for as long as I’m alive, I would never let you be hurt, not by my hand or anyone else’s. I don’t ever want you to think otherwise. Am I understood?”

Words failed you, so you offered him a nod.

“If you are ever uncomfortable, if I ever cause you even the slightest bit of pain, you tell me. And if you even want to wait until you are ready, that is fine with me. Okay?”

Again, you nodded. This time, though, it wasn’t enough.

“I want your words, petal.”

“I understand.”

You lifted your hands, letting them settle on Coryo’s broad chest. For the first time, you realized that he was dressed down, too. Instead of his usual red attire, he was wearing a loose, white linen shirt and trousers. The shirt was thin, so you could feel the muscles of his chest. It was hard to believe the scrawny boy you once knew at the Academy had become…this.

“…And I would like to…do this.”

The corners of Coryo’s mouth tugged into a smile. If he minded your awkwardness, he gave no indication. His hands fell back to your waist and he tugged you against him. His trousers were as thin as his shirt. You squeaked as you felt him against your thigh. “Oh, petal,” he sighed, “I am going to make sure you enjoy this.”

He pulled on the tie holding your robe together, letting it fall open. Coryo glanced up at you, watching for your reaction, as he pushed the silky material off of your shoulders. You found yourself reaching for hand, guiding him to caress your soft curves. His lips captured yours. Coryo kissed you like you were giving him air. Though you were already pressed against him, his arms wrapped around you, as though if he pulled you against him more, you might meld yourself into him, become a part of him like a lung or an arm.

Your hand found itself entangled in his white blond hair. A low growl rumbled in Coryo’s chest. “Don't tease me, petal. Not tonight,” he said against your lips.

That felt more like a challenge than anything. You weren’t sure if this experience would be enjoyable for you, even with Coryo’s promises, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t find your pleasure elsewhere. “Where’s the fun in that?”

When Coryo pulled away, his eyes were noticeably darker. “Oh, you’ll have your fun.”

He led you over to the bed, urging you to lie back. You expected him to climb over you, to lay with you, but instead, he settled between your legs, pushing your thighs apart. What was he doing? Your mother never told you about this. Why was he spreading you apart with his fingers and—

“Oh god,” you cried out as he licked a long stripe along your intimacy.

“Not god. Your Coryo,” he mumbled before pushing his tongue back inside you again.

Your brain turned to mush as he found his rhythm, found out what made you cry his name over and over again. Your hand fell back to his hair, gripping it at the roots, pushing him impossibly closer to you. Fuck. Coryo wasn’t lying when he said you would enjoy this. Could you keep him here like this all night? Forget the rest of the act, the part that necessitated making an heir. With Coryo between your thighs, you could live the rest of your life a happy woman. A pleased woman.

Something deep in your stomach began to tighten as Coryo pushed his fingers inside of you, too, stroking your walls. Your toes curled at the sensation. “Coryo, I feel—”

“Shh. Let go, petal,” he cooed.

It felt like something erupted inside of you. As you let out a guttural scream, your legs shutting around Coryo’s head. What was that? Was this the pleasure that women so seldom get to experience? How could other men rob women of this? You had half a mind to stay in bed for the rest of your life with Coryo if it meant you got to feel like this again and again and again.

Your thighs trembled as you released your hold on your husband. He lifted himself, pressing wet kisses up your stomach, between the valley of your breasts, until he settled on your lips. Your arms wrapped around him, keeping him close to you. It was strange, wanting to be near him. Wasn’t it just a few months ago, a few weeks ago, that you wanted nothing more than to run away from this sort of life? To be anything other than the wife to a King? Oh, what you wish you could tell your (only slightly) younger self. Would she even believe you? Could you even believe it now?

How could so much change?

“You’re perfect,” Coryo whispered against your lips. “So perfect for me.”

He began to sit up, eliciting a whine from you. He gently pushed your hands away before reaching for his pants and undoing the ties. You were captivated as Coryo pushed the thin fabric down his thighs. And what lay between them…Oh, was this why it would be painful? Curious, you reached for it. Coryo guided your hand around him, encouraging you to give a few gentle pumps along his length.

“Be gentle?” you asked as you dropped your hand, letting Coryo drape himself over you again.

“For you, I’ll be anything you want.”

You let out a hiss as he guided himself inside you. God, the stretch. Your brows pinched together, your eyes screwing shut. It was too much. Yet, Coryo was slow, taking his time. It made you keenly aware of the feeling, but you supposed it was better than rushing into it. You shuddered at the thought of how painful that could be.

Coryo pressed a kiss to your lips. “You alright, petal?”

All you could manage was a strangled whine.

He grabbed your face, but didn’t say anything until you opened your eyes. He made sure you kept eye contact with him as he said, “If it’s too much, we can stop. Don’t think you have to do this just because it’s our wedding night. I would rather you want this than feel like you’re being forced.”

A part of you wanted to tell him to stop. But a greater part of you, the part of you that remembered the pure ecstasy you felt just moments before when his head was between your legs, wanted to experience that all over again. (Was that selfish? Maybe. But after this mess of an engagement, maybe you deserved to be selfish.) So you found yourself pulling Coryo down for another kiss, whispering against his lips, “I want you.”

Coryo kissed you as he rocked his hips into you. And, oh, if you thought the stretch was too much, you had no idea what was coming for you. You could feel him—every part of him. The entire world faded away until all that was left was your Coryo. Another whimper escaped your lips. You felt a question on the tip of his tongue. You kissed him harder, hoping that if you distracted him enough, he wouldn’t stop. Because, for as intense as this was, you were chasing that high and you would be damned before you let anyone get in the way of it.

Slowly, though, the pain melted into pleasure. Your moans echoed off the walls, Coryo taking it as a sign to pick up the pace. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, your fingernails digging into his back. You were sure you would be frightened by the sight of the marks, but that didn’t matter now. Nothing else mattered right now.

You let out a strangled cry when Coryo hit a particularly sensitive spot deep inside you. Stars dotted the corners of your vision. You almost convinced yourself it was a lie that women couldn’t feel pleasure from this. Or was this just because it was with Coryo? Coryo, who seemed to so genuinely love you? Was this why some women called it making love? The idea made bile rise in your throat. Could you love Coryo?

You screamed as the pleasure overtook you. All of the other thoughts washed away. All that was left was you, and Coryo, and this oddly perfect moment. You were so wrapped up in the new sensation that you didn’t notice your husband pulling away until he was nearly gone. He paused as your hand gripped his wrist, urging him to stay. Why would he leave?

“I’ll be right back, petal. I need to get something to clean you up. You made quite the mess,” he said, teasing lilt rising at the end of his sentence.

You weren’t sure how long he was gone, but it was long enough for you to regain feeling in your legs. At least, enough feeling that you were able to push yourself up into a seated position. You tucked your legs against your chest and stared at the mess. Your mother hadn’t told you that this would be bloody. How could you not notice that? Were you that blinded by pleasure that you ignored your pain? You hadn’t realized that Coryo had that sort of effect on you. What happened to the girl all those months ago that would have spat in his face for touching her? Where had she gone? So much had changed in such a short amount of time.

The bile began to rise again. How could you have let yourself fall under his spell? You once laughed with Sejanus about how all the students at the Academy fell over themselves for a moment with the charming Coriolanus Snow. What had he done to you for you to ignore the beast inside?

A cold hand on your knee made you jerk. When you lifted your head, you saw Coriolanus standing at the edge of the bed. He pushed your legs apart and dragged a wet cloth you hadn’t realized he brought between them. You flinched. It was too rough. He was too rough. Or was this all in your head?

Coriolanus must have seen something on your face. “Are you alright?”

You pushed his hand away and swung your legs over the edge of the bed. You glanced around the room, searching for your robe. The room felt like it was spinning. Where was the damned robe? Stumbling over to the window, you finally found it. You were too exposed. After plucking it from the floor, you wrapped it around yourself as tight as you could manage and tied the string into a knot.

“What are you doing, petal?” Coriolanus asked. You heard him walk close to you, but you propelled yourself toward the door on the other of the room. The one that connected the King’s chambers to the Queen’s. “Come to bed. Please. Talk to me.”

“I’m going to bed,” you managed as you reached the door.

“Then why are you running?”

You pushed the door open. “I don’t wish to sleep with you.”

He followed after you. His long legs brought him to you in a few short strides. Coriolanus captured your wrist in one hand, urging you to stop. “Did I do something wrong? Petal, if I did, it wasn’t intentional.”

“I wish to be alone.”

You couldn’t look at him. You were scared to see his beautiful blue eyes dotted with sadness as he asked, “Did I hurt you?”

You wrenched your hand away. “I’ve done my duty for the night. Now, I would like to rest. Alone.”

Perhaps it was cruel to say such a thing. Perhaps Coriolanus didn’t even deserve it. But hurting him was easy. Striking him where it hurt was easy. Coriolanus Snow might genuinely love you, and nothing in your life scared you more.

“…If that is what you wish, I won’t push it. But I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re just a duty to me. You are the petals of the most beautiful rose. You are everything.” Coriolanus looked like he was near tears when you allowed yourself a glance at his face. “We leave in the morning for my family’s cottage. I thought you might like to spend our honeymoon away from prying eyes.”

You had already gone this far. “Don’t pretend you do anything for anyone but yourself.”

Coriolanus reeled back as if you slapped him. It might have hurt less if you had. Why were you being as cruel as him? “Everything I do is for you.”

“Then let me go.”

He took a step back. So did you. Two lovers, staring at each other, neither quite sure where they went wrong. Except, you did know this was your fault. But, dammit, he started it. Coriolanus confused your thoughts. You knew him as cruel and calculating for so long…How could you trust that anything he did was truly sincere? How could you believe that a man like him could love a woman like you?

You shut the door.

#the house of snow: a royal coryo au #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus snow x female reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x y/n #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fan fiction #coriolanus snow fanfic #coriolanus snow fan fic #coriolanus snow fic #starrywrites #starryevermore

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calypso707 · 5 months

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Can I request a Druid tav x Astarion? Where over time and a ton of talks about it Astarion allows tav to try different ways to flatten his scars on his back? Different lotions/creams and massages? Not necessarily making them disappear but flattening them enough so their not as raised and angry.

That’s a good one, i hope you'll like it, it was a bit more challenging but I enjoyed writing it. I've done it differently, though. I preferred to write the first time they treat his scars. Please don't hesitate to send me feedback ! Enjoy ! (๑˘︶˘๑)

OS - Astarion x Gn druid reader : On your skin.

Since you were a child, you had always imagined that you'd spend your life in the Circle, at the service of nature and protecting the balance. But recent events had completely turned your life upside down: your kidnapping by mind flayers, the crash of their nautiloid, the victory over the goblins… Not to mention the roommate you had in your skull. And these events, however improbable, had driven you to create the strangest alliances.

Your favorite time of day was when you returned to your camp in the Wilderness. You enjoyed the calm that settles all around you as soon as night fell, you liked to hear the wood creak under the fire, you loved to gaze up at the sky as if to interpret the messages left by the stars, you even caught yourself listening for the animals prowling nearby. Oak Father, you loved those quiet moments. You knelt at the edge of the shore, not far from your tent, your eyes closed and your breathing stilled to the rhythm of the waves undulating in the wind. You allowed your mind to wander, you were surrounded by strange companions and you had permitted your heart to fall in with the most unusual being of all.

Astarion.

A vampire.

If your Circle were to find out… For many, vampires were an abomination of nature, but for you, he was just a magistrate with immoral tendencies and a liking for blood. You did not know if the feeling was mutual, and you did not particularly want to find out. Astarion cherished his freedom and it was just as meaningful to you. He had spent much of his spawn life in the service of a cruel lord who had submitted him to all kinds of vices. You thought back to the inscriptions carved into the flesh of his back and how he must have suffered.

A throat-clearing sounded above you and you opened your eyes. Speaking of the devil.. You did not even hear him coming. Astarion was standing in front of you, looking… Unsure?

"I've been thinking about what you said. About my… Scars."

You stood up to face him properly, inviting him with a nod to continue.

"I would like you to treat them to make them less, well.. Noticeable," he added. "They do not, of course, affect my beauty, but if you could make them more pleasing to the eye, I would not say no."

You rolled your eyes at his words. The two of you had discussed this several times. You simply offered to help, you had no wish to erase them because they were part of him. You just wanted to make them less sensitive so you were waiting for him to give you permission. "All right, I will take care of it. Let's go to my tent, so we can have some privacy"

You gestured for him to follow you, which he surprisingly did without protesting. You entered the tent, which was large enough for just one person. On the right was your paillasse, surrounded by books of various subjects. On the left, a huge solid wood table held all your herbs, elixirs, ointments and recipes. You invited him to sit on a wooden stool beside you.

"Let me have a look"

Astarion seemed to hesitate for a moment and finally removed his shirt before tossing it onto your bed. He seemed almost… uncomfortable. Yet it was not the first time you had seen him half-naked. You stood behind him and slowly brought your fingers to his scarred skin.

"May I?"

"Yes," He replied in a breath, his unease was palpable. He seemed vulnerable.

You gently ran your fingers over his upper back, cautiously brushing his scars. You felt him flinch slightly at the warmth of your skin, which contrasted with the coldness of his. It was the first time you had seen them so closely. The Language of the Hells had been carved into his flesh two centuries ago, and you could still guess the pain he must have felt. According to him, it was a poem, a very strange poem. The cruelty of the act made your heart ache and your stomach twist. How could he have survived such pain?

"It was a surprise. As you can see, Cazador's surprises are never good ones," commented Astarion.

You looked up at the mirror in front of you, and although his reflection was not visible, you could see you touching his invisible skin as delicately as possible, his face was turned to the mirror, examining your every move. You detached yourself to search through your ointments and took one you had prepared earlier. It was a derivative of Silvanus' elixir, based on boiling theriac and mugwort bundle. Returning to stand behind him, you took a generous quantity of the mixture with your fingers before applying it delicately to the marks. Astarion twitched again, looking over his shoulder at you.

"I am sorry" You said.

"No, it is cold. But it feels… Nice"

You slowly knelt behind him and carefully applied the ointment, making sure his skin properly absorbed the treatment. The effect was almost instantaneous, and the scars seemed less vivid to the naked eye. It would take several applications for it to be fully effective. You ran your fingers along the long lines that ended at the lower part of his back and noticed that a shiver ran through his body. This moment was different from the others you had shared, even more intimate because he had allowed you to get closer to that part of his past he hated. He had allowed himself to be vulnerable in front of you.

"Do you feel any difference?" you asked, looking up at him as he swiveled on the stool to face you. You wiped your fingers on a clean cloth.

"Hm.." He made a move as if trying to stretch his skin. He seemed a bit surprised. "I used to feel them, itching. I no longer feel that discomfort"

"It will require repeated application for it to be more effective, but it is a good start"

"Oh, are you offering me private sessions for massages?" questioned the vampire, a mischievous smile on his lips.

You smiled at his question and, as you stood up, he grabbed your arm to pull you towards him. He wrapped his right arm around your waist and his left hand slid down your forearm. This embrace took you by surprise, but you did not push him away, on the contrary. He took your hand in his and brought your fingers to his lips, softly. He half-opened his mouth as he slid your index and middle finger over his lower lip, revealing his fangs. A shiver of excitement ran through your body.

"It means a lot, you know, what you do for me. I will never forget it."

⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ �� ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯

I hope you enjoyed it, feel free to have a look at my other writings on Astarion ! Love ya !

Astarion x gn druid reader : On your skin (pt.2)

Astarion x gn reader : A thousand thanks

Astarion x gn reader : No place for love

Fic : Astarion x Fem! bard Tav : Fruit of the Poisonned Tree

#romance #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion vampire #astarion x gn reader #baldur's gate iii #baulders gate 3 #baldurs gate #astarion ancunin #astarion my beloved

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xiao-come-home · 2 days

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Making Boothill a new hat and now he's going to wear it everywhere. And if someone dares to insult or damage it? They better say their prayers.

Angry as f Boothill... Oh Lord help us all 🥶

OH HE'S NOT LETTING THIS ONE GO FOR A LONG TIME. It's probably not as bad when someone insults it - although Boothill just might almost break their jaw and throw insults at them (even though it comes out as "just what! Did ya say about my hat, FRECKLE!"), he'll remember that person till they, literally, die.

"Oh, we meet again. The stink that insulted my hat, from my beloved. Hope ya feel peachy (like shit) today."

Boothill truly loves the hat you made him - it's like a mobile piece of your heart he's able to move anywhere, especially if you aren't accompanying him that day! It reminds him of you, your smell, your love for him, and but most importantly—

Poof! Someone shoots a bullet.

It didn't harm Boothill - thank aeons - but his new hat falls on the floor, the now new, uninvited hole carved into it.

...But most importantly, your poured your entire heart into it, and await for him at home.

Boothill freezes for a while, throwing off the shooter, or - how the cyborg decided to call them - the victim; he bends down and picks up the hat, dusting it off carefully, his thumb trailing the outline of the ugly he from the bullet.

"Do you know what have you done?" Boothill's tone is cold like ice; he stands still with his back facing the poor person, his snowy hair floating gently against the wind. The person doesn't seem to answer his question, making him even more agitated.

"I said," Boothill almost growls, spitting out a bullet and turning around, "do ya know what have ya just done?!"

Crimson flashes in his eyes; the bystanders only hear rapid sounds of fired bullets, almost if they had their own mind and hatred to the person they're targeting.

Even though Boothill comes out victorious in this battle (duh!), he plops down on the couch defeated, sighing and clinging the hat to his chest. You kiss and cradle his cheek, feeling him nuzzle into your hand; he closes his eyes in content, but still feeling uneasy inside.

"Some donkey (dick) destroyed my new hat. So I taught them a lesson." He explains calmly and hands you the headpiece. He opens one of his eyes and observes you quietly, awaiting your reaction.

"It's alright - I can fix this for you," you answer gently, giving him a soft smile; your eyes examine the place of the unfortunate bullet that once went through. You can see the wide smile on his face in the corner of your eye, shortly after feeling the familiar, sweet warmth of his lips on your palm.

"But you need to get cleaned up first... There's blood on the entire couch, Boothill!"

#got carried away teehee #hc he loses his accent when he's very angry #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #boothill hsr #boothill x reader #boothill #.thirst

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astrumark · 11 months

Text

── GIVE ME THAT LITTLE BIT OF SATISFACTION ★.

PAIRING: aemond targaryen x female reader.

SUMMARY: aemond needs your assistance after a battle, in more ways than one.

WARNINGS: blood, curse words, smut with plot, use of coconut oil as lube, hand-job, p in v, tits sucking, multiple orgasms, creampie, a hint of sub aemond? oops? :3

WC: 5.3K

NOTES: obviously this is my take on what happened after rook's rest. the show's approach next year will definitely be different. but it's fun working with the book's events and its lack of minor details (you can fill it in however you wish!).

Your eyes flutter open with a jump, a firm hand gripping your shoulder. You didn't remember when you had fallen asleep, or what hour it was, but certainly wasn't the time for your shift yet. It takes a few seconds for your cloudy vision to focus on where you were, now noticing the older servant in front of you, and you look at her dazedly.

"The prince has just arrived, and requests your presence," Annabel explains.

Aemond. Immediate relief washes over you as your face softens. "Very well."

You leave the servants' quarters as fast as you can after fixing your appearance, and as you walk through the halls, you notice the castle is way too agitated. Tension and seriousness ripple in the air, and you start to feel uneasy as well, mind fumbling with numberless possibilities.

It's one of the gold cloaks that finally speaks a little louder, talking fervently about the victory of the greens at the battle of Rook's Rest. It had been quite a few days since their army had marched, and news was often shared about their progression. Usually, you tend to avoid it, since most of it makes you feel sick in your stomach.

Besides the armored man, there is no more commemoration or sense of victory. Not on this side of the castle, at least. Lords were probably planning on throwing banquets, but people like you are too aware of the damages of the war, and how at the end of the day the smallfolk suffer the most. Countless common people would die in the name of greedy royalty that know no limits to their ambition, families ruined beyond repair, a ravaging hunger was plaguing the poorest, and the coffers would soon be emptied, money being spent on battles other than improving the realm and making life easier. It's obvious how no good could ever come regardless of the result of the war.

You find Annabel again, shouting order after order, the middle-aged woman was the one in charge of the servants for a good while now and was a reliable source of information.

"What happened?" You approach her.

"A lot happened, child." Her tone is somber.

"Did someone die?" What a foolish question. Not just someone, but hundreds.

"The queen who never was and her dragon."

You grimace, reminiscing about the princess back when she was visiting the Red Keep. Although such casualties are expected during the war, it is still difficult to grasp that the imposing woman is dead. It's fearful how one's life could be ripped from them so suddenly. A paralyzing concern floods you. Aemond being back does not mean he is unharmed.

"Has the prince been hurt?" Your voice falters, your heart pounding with fear.

Annabel's gaze flickers to your face, and you could see her disapproval, almost making you wish to recoil. But she would never say a thing about your unusual closeness with the prince, being unlike her to intrude in personal affairs. You are aware she doesn't like Aemond or any of the royals, but then again very few did. You have grown to understand it was not only because of his eye, or lack thereof, but because he simply did not inspire sympathy. Aemond is stoic, defensive, and difficult to relate to. You were only one of the very few lucky enough to know better.

"The prince is fine," Annabel says and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. "However, it is said the king is in critical condition, it is not known if he will recover, and his dragon is unable to fly, one of his wings was damaged during the fight."

You gasp, in your slumber you have forgotten about the man, not being concerned about him in the slightest. Anyhow, you feel your mind almost melting as you process the shocking news and the aftermath of it. If the king were to perish, that means Aemond would be regent until his nephew is of ideal age. Seven. "Poor Sunfyre."

Annabel tries to scold you, but the amusement behind her blue eyes is hard to conceal. "You are pitying the dragon, not the king?"

"Well, people have the free will of choice, and are aware of the consequences their actions might have… a dragon can only obey their rider's command, isn't it right?"

"We cannot say. These magical creatures are beyond our comprehension."

You ponder. "That is true."

After the quick conversation, you make your way to one of the huge kitchens, assuming the prince would probably fancy a bath. Warming up buckets of water, you carry them to Maegor's Holdfast with the help of three other servants.

A strong smell of blood and smoke fills your nose as you enter his quarters, and your eyes widen. The expensive rug is stained and marked by large boots, and even more astounding is the prince's appearance.

Aemond is lounging on a chair close to his study table. His face and hair are covered by blood, ash, and dirt, and splatters of dried blood stains his black and gold armor. His braids are loose, and you can even notice some twigs tangled in his silver strands. However, the prince's hands are the most distressing, gloves discarded at some point and almost fully covered by the red liquid. With a frown, you deduce it must be from his brother's injury. He looks haunting, almighty, and ruthless. There's a scowl on his face, though his eyes seem perturbed.

You notice how the servants' hands seem to tremble slightly as they pour the water into the bathtub in the next room, their eyes never daring to look up while adding some essential oils and chamomile herbs to the water as well, however, you cannot share their fear. All you wish to do is reach out and comfort him. Leaving one of the buckets outside the bathroom, you can see from the corner of your eyes the one-eyed man dismissing the other servants with a wave of a hand, and they seem eager to oblige. You kneel in front of him.

"I am glad you are well," You squeeze his knees. "And tremendously sorry for your brother."

Aemond does not respond, and his gaze is piercing as he stares at you as if memorizing each detail of your face. You don't look away either, a comfortable but powerful silence pairing between the two of you. His fingers slowly graze your cheek, and you do not mind the blood, eyes closing with the delicate caress.

"Help me undress, will you?"

You nod, aware he was never one to talk in deep about his emotions and thoughts, to allow himself to be vulnerable. Nonetheless, you've been noticing this quietness getting worse ever since Storm's End, and although concerned, you would not push him. Especially because you weren't even aware of the extent of your relationship. That he has a certain tenderness for you is clear, but the amount of liberties you could take with the royal is not as much.

Carefully undoing his heavy armor, the pieces fall to the ground with a whump, and the clothes underneath are a lot easier to deal with. His defined body slowly comes into view, a few goosebumps arising on his bare skin with the sudden lack of materials. Aemond's nakedness is of no surprise to you, though you could never help but admire him. Grabbing a cloth you wet it in the bucket nearby and start to clean his face first, hoping to get rid of the thicker layers of dirt before starting the bath.

Your touch is light, afraid to harshly rub any scratches, big or small. "Are you hurt in any way?"

Aemond shakes his head. "None of the blood is mine," He says. "It's from the princess and my brother, and their dragons. I believe some from Lord Staunton and his garrison as well."

You shudder with discomfort and drift your attention to cleaning his hands, the cloth immediately being painted red, you discard it for another as you move to the other hand. You've always enjoyed tending to him.

His hair comes next, and you take off his eyepatch. Undoing the braids is quick, long accustomed to it, though his strands are now sticking and smelling terribly, like a pan that spent too much time on fire, simply nose scrunching and suffocating. Aemond moves his head side to side with a growl after you are done, the bones of his neck cracking.

The prince sighs pleasantly as he enters the tub, and you grab a bowl to wet his hair. The silver strands get soaped quickly as you massage his scalp with both hands, his good eye close, and the sapphire twinkles.

After washing it, you fetch another soap bar, one that the merchant guaranteed you was special, something about adding more oils while making it. There was no harm in trying, and you were surprised by how such a thing made his hair healthier, not as dry which means fewer cuts, and more tamed and lustrous. His strands instantly become more emollient as you run the soap along the length.

Aemond seems completely unbothered as you get to scrub his body, the fine hairs covering his arms and legs so light it's barely visible. It's, in fact, a moment of relaxation and customariness, a routine for both of you. But the water is already dirty and gray by now, and you cannot help but recall it's not only ashes and dirt but also the mixed blood of people and beasts alike. Some perished.

You do not notice the silver-haired staring at you until he speaks. "You do not seem very pleased."

You raise your eyebrows. "Is there something to be pleased about?"

"Is there not?" He squints his eye. "We have just won a battle."

"Congratulations."

"Your sincerity is appreciated." His voice is dripping with sarcasm. "You know you can speak freely with me." He studies your face.

You bite your lips, focusing on the task at hand and adding more soap to the scrubber. The prince would never understand your point, so you would rather avoid a useless discussion. Especially today.

Unfortunately, he doesn't give up, cocking his head. "What is restraining you from doing so? Are you disgusted? Would you prefer me to not have killed all those cunty traitors?" His voice is low, dangerous. "Would you prefer to have that whore sitting on the throne? Is that the reason for your unpleasantness? Do you believe she's more suitable than my brother? Than me?"

You look at him sternly, the scrubber falling to the water with a splash. His face is now a lot closer to yours, but he does not intimidate you, never did, and probably never will. But he hits a nerve, and your mouth moves even before you could notice you were speaking.

"I would prefer your family to resolve the succession issue in another way other than submitting the kingdom to a devastating war with horrendous consequences, for all of you certainly, as proved by your nephew's death and older brother's injury now, but mostly, innocent people that have nothing to do with your schemes." Your voice holds a cold rage. "That is my opinion if it's of any importance to you, but I highly doubt it."

Aemond scoffs, shaking his head and averting his eye for a minute. His finger rests on top of his mouth, and there's still blood underneath his nails. He inhales to control his annoyance. He looks like he's going to say something, but then changes his mind, closing his lips and opting for another choice of words.

"You would not understand it, as a commoner." He looks at you up and down, not with the usual desire, but with a hint of superiority now, clear in how the corner of his lips twitches upward dismissively.

You are quick to respond. "Nor would you, as a prince."

Deafening silence. You have a good point, the drastic difference in your backgrounds would never let you completely understand one another's views and priorities. Aemond sighs.

"You are lucky I am fond of you." A truce.

You chuckle. "And I do not dislike you entirely."

The prince smiles, tight-lipped, but it is lovely, showing off his beautiful dimples. The rest of the bath goes calmly as you resume the chore. You wrap his hair in a cotton towel, and his body in a linen one. You leave the prince to dry himself while you make your way to the bedchamber, gathering loose mud green trousers and some shea butter.

The one-eyed stands in his full glory as you spread the product all over his lean body. Back, arms, chest, and stomach, then his legs. When you get up from your kneeling position, his hand wraps around your neck swiftly, bringing your body forward and kissing you.

You return it immediately, deep and eager. However, it's also contemplative and cozy, almost lazy as you taste one another. Your hand rests on his forearm, the softness and warmth of his lips never failing to get you weak on the knees, and he smells great now, fresh. Your eyes seem unable to open as you get lost in the small kisses and teases.

"Do not resent me, beauty." He says as you part.

You smile against his mouth, you thought it was precious when he got like this, clingy in his way. It was only on these rare occasions that he let his pride and loftiness aside, and would do everything to prevent you from being upset with him. Seeking your comfort in such an intense manner it was flattering.

A verbal answer doesn't leave your lips, you just kiss him again, and it's enough. "Get dressed and sit down." You motion to the dressing table, throwing the trousers at him.

You comb his hair delicately, adding some sunflower oil to his scalp before braiding his damp hair, he prefers it this way, claiming it was the only way it wouldn't get tangled up in the morning. You start from his very root, sectioning small amounts of silver hair and crossing them over in between your fingers, slowly but surely creating a beautiful and tight pattern. It's not a fast process, but you delight in it and you suspect so does the man in front of you, almost purring as you work. Tying the end of it, you rub his shoulders affectionately, his skin always warm beneath your palms.

"I am sore," Aemond complains. "A massage would be great."

You grin, pecking his cheek from behind. "As you wish, my Prince."

He is truly very tense, and you cannot fathom how distressing all that he witnessed is. You suppose it was a life-changing experience, in the worst way possible. It was clear how his eye hardened considerably in a short time. You would have surely run to the hills in his place, but he doesn't. He breathes and keeps his composure, hiding away all his fright, pretending to be indifferent, that he accepts his duty and the price of it gladly. But nobody would, less they lacked emotions.

Aemond lays down on his stomach, folding his arms above his head. Grabbing a bottle of coconut oil from the table, you take off your shoes and raise your dress to your knees before crawling on the bed to sit on top of his butt.

His body jolts as you drip a generous amount of oil on his large back, his muscles flexing. His body is so magnificent you could easily imagine a greater force meticulously creating each detail of it. Aemond moans the moment your hands start to caress his lower back. Your first touches are gentle, tracing circles up and down with your fingertips, mapping where you can feel some knots. Your hands move from his sides, to his shoulders, and up to the back of his neck, pinching it slightly.

"Fuck," Aemond grunts, voice muffled by the mattress. "This feels nice."

You add more pressure, stroking his back up and down, and after a few minutes back to tracing firm circles, this time with the heel of your hand. The prince is unable to contain noises of pleasure. Laying one of your hands on top of the other, you start the process of pushing his spine, once again beginning down and going up. A few cracks are heard.

Then, you add gentle pressure with your thumbs on his knots, his grunts are now a little bit more uncomfortable, but it's necessary. After you are done, you softly knead his back up and down, and then start switching between circling and stroking.

Aemond's moans along with the feel of his skin start to alight a desire in you, your lower stomach tingling in a known and annoying manner, womanhood pulsating with each new sound. It doesn't help how your filthy encounters had been becoming less frequent, the prince growing too busy with the war, and often you would feel bothered and insatiable.

It's unconscious the way you start rubbing on him, trying to relieve the ache you feel, and you do not realize what you are doing until he grips your thigh, halting your tentative movements at once.

"Stop teasing." He warns.

You stammer, a bit embarrassed. "I'm not, I–"

Suddenly you are pinned down by the prince, your positions switched as you utter your confusion by the suddenness. You should've been used to his strength and fast reflexes by now. "Do you deem your behavior acceptable?"

You swallow, trying not to smile, and feign innocence. "I have no clue what you are talking about."

"Oh, yes? You are unaware you were rubbing yourself on me like a bitch in heat?"

"I would never do that, my Prince."

"You would never…?" He chuckles, feeling amused.

"During my work? No." You shake your head in denial.

"So, if I touch your cunt right now, you would not be wet?" He cocks his head.

You bite your lips. "Not at all."

"Forgive me for not believing your words, but I shall need proof." Aemond's hand sneaks under your dress, fingers moving slowly from your shin to your thigh, his eye never leaving yours, daring.

You giggle when his finger parts your folds, rubbing the dampness between your legs. You buck your hips, in need of more friction.

"Liar." Aemond disregards with a click of his tongue, his pupil blown out as he circles your bud.

"Aemond." You gasp, eyes closing.

"Do you think you deserve it?"

"Yes, I've been taking care of you so well..." You try to negotiate.

"But I deserve so much more attention, don't you agree?" He kisses and licks your collarbone, finger never faltering, teasing.

"More?" Your breath is labored, and your voice is weak. His hand leaves your heat.

"I have killed a whole other dragon. It is not frequently one can say it. Yes, I believe I am due special treatment." He faces you again.

"I see," You grin. "You want me to do all the work?" Your lips brush his. "Such an idle prince." You provoke.

"Watch your mouth," He warns, pecking you. "I am merely tired. It's been eventful."

"Conveniently for you, I am feeling generous today." Your hands trail his bare waist.

"You are?" He smirks, nose touching yours.

"Uh-huh, and very happy you are unscathed."

"Show me, then," Aemond kisses your jaw. "Just how grateful you are."

The kiss you share is lecherous, wet, and rushed. Aemond does not fight you as you flip your bodies over and climb onto his lap, an evident bulge in the thin trousers that contours all of his cock tantalizingly. Even the clothed friction makes you both shudder, and you gather all of your strength to not start instantly grinding on his shaft.

You pull his trousers down, and his manhood springs free. Big, thick, veiny. Dripping coconut oil on your hands, you rub them together. Aemond wets his lips in anticipation.

Your hand slides through his length with no difficulty with the help of the oil, and the smell of it is delicious. You start jerking him off, and the prince hums in satisfaction.

Aemond wasn't the most vocal in bed, you realized it soon into your affair, but with time you had discovered the exceptions, the things that would make him forget all about his inhibitions and scream in pleasure.

After stroking him for a while, you cup one of your hands, very slowly circling his tip with the palm of your oily hand, fingertips dragging up and down his length while you do so. Aemond breathes sharply, his stomach twitching.

"Seven hells, love." He mutters with a tight hold on the sheets due to his sensitivity. You smile.

You focus on your fingertips, running them up and down his shaft lightly. Aemond adored the delicacy of the movement, the gentle yet torturous pressure, promising and unforgiving, kind and cruel. Then you circle his head again, again, and again. Careful to not hurt him. Aemond grunts, his eyebrows pinching together and face completely flushed as he bites his lips harshly, trying to hold back his moans, but you know it won't last long.

"Stop, it 's too much." He whines, but the delighted sound that escapes his mouth tells you to do anything but, his body trembling.

"Aw," You coo mockingly. "We know you can take it, my Prince."

You add more oil to your hands, holding his length and rotating your wrist as your palm rubs over his tip and shaft over and over. He completely let go as he closes his eye, his grunts being replaced by enchanting high-pitched and broken moans. It's quite pathetic the sight of him, the mighty and fearsome prince so supple on your hands, forehead glistening with sweat and breath erratic. Anyone outside could hear him.

"My love, please." He begs in the middle of whimpers, all of his body hair stirred up.

"Please what, my dear?" You ask innocently.

Aemond squirms. "I need to come," He gasps. "Please, please, please."

"Since you asked so nicely…"

You change the movement, keeping it only on his sensitive head, your other hand squeezing his balls. His voice gets louder, face twisted in pleasure as a tear falls down his gorgeous face, violet iris shining bright. You can feel your cunt soaked and throbbing achingly with the view.

He comes in a silent scream, hips bucking as hot loads of his spend fall into your hand and his shaft. You spread some of it around his length, still jerking him off as you help him ride out of his peak, the prince's body spasming.

"That's it," You praise him. "Good boy."

Aemond's breath is heavy as you find his lips, and he struggles to follow your pace, but he tries anyway, messy and urging. "Now you are going to be even nicer and let me use your cock, won't you?" You whisper.

His eye is lidded as he stares at you and nods, and you cannot resist the urge to press two sticky fingers to his curved lips, Aemond opens his mouth with no resistance, licking your hand clean. He's so compliant, somehow still lost in the void between the extraordinary bliss and the present moment.

"Anything for you." He mutters.

You grin. "That is what I like to hear."

Even if not necessarily frequent, happening mostly when he was worn-out or glum, it was rather obvious how letting someone of your position have control over him in bed, one of the very few situations in which you could be so blunt and disrespectful to a high-born, aroused the prince more than he would ever admit, a time in which he could forget about his obligations and just be good to you.

It doesn't take long into your kissing until you can feel him growing hard again, hands eagerly grabbing the hem of your dark red dress and pulling it up around your waist.

"Stupid dress." He complains in between lustful kisses, struggling to get rid of the clothing.

You laugh and help him take it off, throwing your apron and the dress somewhere around his quarters. Aemond instantly latches onto your right breast once you are fully naked, tongue hot and wet twirling around your nipple, and making you shiver and mewl as he sucks it into his mouth as if he is starved, your hand pulling at his braided hair.

Too impatient and greedy, you push him back on the mattress, positioning his member on your wet and tight entrance before lowering yourself down on it. You both moan at the stretch. It is spellbinding the way he watches you on top of him, making you feel like the most desired person in existence, his hands on your hips tightly.

You feel so full and excited you could almost see stars, the position has always been one of your favorites, his cock being able to reach just the right spots in this way.

"Seven, you feel perfect inside me." You gasp, grinding back and forward, your lungs clenching with the sudden and powerful wave of pleasure, so strong it is maddening.

Aemond growls, his body jolting with the motion. "You are a fucking witch, woman."

"For knowing exactly how to deal with you? I might as well be." You grin viciously, your hands resting on his chest.

Your eyes close as you rock your hips slowly and sensually, strained moans already leaving your mouth, and your bud brushing over his pubic bone makes you tremble. It's doubtless the best sensation you have ever felt, his cock dragging against your walls marvelously.

"Fuck, you fit me so well," You say out of breath, fastening your grinding. "Always so good for me, aren't you?"

You lean over slightly, pressing yourself more to him as you begin to bounce on his cock restlessly, the sinful noises echoing in the chamber only increasing your pleasure.

Aemond whimpers, both by the change of the movement and your words. "Always good for you, my love." He repeats, choking out.

Aemond's hands come to grip your ass desperately, certainly to leave bruises later, but now it's nothing but motivating for you.

He suddenly sits you both up, mouth finding one of your breasts again, saliva coating it as he plays with your nipple with tongue and teeth with no care. The sensitivity makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. Delightful yet torturous whimpers on your lips as you continue to ride him mercilessly.

Sweat covers almost all of your body, and you feel as if you were burning from the inside out, the prince not looking any different, his cheeks and nose terribly reddened. You don't even care about the slight throbbing of your legs getting tired, or for the man you were fucking anymore, simply focused on the building of that rapture that feels so close yet so far. Your hold on his shoulders is firm beyond pleasant, but you assume his mind is elsewhere, and not in how your nails are breaking his pale skin.

You needed this badly and you knew you wouldn't last long. The knot inside you tightens hazardously, and you furrow your eyebrows, your bouncing getting even more frenetic. However, as good as it feels, you are growing overwhelmed as you ache for a release that's taking too long to come, somewhat stuck in a sadic joy. You whine out of glee and anticipation, too fucking eager.

"Don't stop, love," Aemond says with a groan, letting go of your breast with a pop to give attention to the other, his sucking sloppy as you pull at his hair harshly. You moan.

Not even in a thousand years you would dare to. When the long-awaited white-hot pleasure slams your body, you feel like ascending to the seven heavens itself. It's astoundingly overpowering at first and then diminishes in ripples as your heart drums painfully inside your chest, cunt fluttering around his member.

Your breath is heavy as you slow down, shivering and a little weary. Aemond moans while watching you come on his cock, and fortunately, he seems disposed to help you as he lays down again, bringing your body flush against his. He seems very roused as he impales you with his cock from beneath, growling into your ears while his hands squeeze your ass possessively.

You whine due to overstimulation, his thrusts are relentless, and the squelching sounds more prominent with how much you soaked his cock not too long ago. You are unsure if you want him to finish already or just keep using your cunt as he wishes regardless of your comfort, and the sheer thought of it inflames you.

It's surprising how fast it comes back, that burning and expectation in your lower stomach, apparently even stronger now. All that was not him and his cock in your womanhood is long forgotten. Blood rushes hot in your veins, high-pitched mewls and low grunts blending.

"By the Seven, Aemond." You hide your face in the crook of his neck, drool dripping from the corner of your mouth.

"Can you give me another one?" Aemond pounds into you harder, the smell of the shea butter and coconut oil from earlier consuming you. "I want to give you another one, beauty. I want to make you feel exceptionally good, yes?"

You try to respond to him but you just babble, teeth biting into the conjecture of his neck and shoulder, painting it red and purple, too dumbfounded to think or to measure your strength. But it seems your bites only incite the silver-haired more, his shoves faster and his groans broken.

One of his hands circles your waist securely to lock you in place, no falter in his thrusts. The wave of elation that suddenly crashes down over you is potent, numbing all your senses for a few seconds, but you are certain you must be screaming as you squirm. Your legs shake tremendously and your eyelids feel heavier.

Your second peak and the clenching of your cunt send Aemond over the edge. He bucks his hips, stilling inside you as he comes with a prolonged and deep grunt, head tilted back and lips parted. You didn't know what good action guaranteed you the privilege to see such a beautiful thing. Getting off him as he tries to regain his breath, a good amount of his warm seed drips in between your thighs, walls spinning as you feel quite faint.

Your back hits the fluffy mattress, your heart pounding in your ears and black dots cover your vision, which is slightly blurry. Shutting your eyes, you could not say how much time has passed as you recompose yourself and wait for your skin to cool down, but when you do, you are shocked to see the prince already soundly asleep next to you, mouth hung open as exhaustion had finally caught up to him after the latest events and your passionate indulgence.

Chuckling, you roll to your side as you watch him, his expression for once serene and breath even. You trace your finger gently across his straight eyebrow while appreciating the details of his face. The concern comes back to torment you as you wonder what the future has reserved for him, but you try to brush it off. You could only pray for his safety.

You recall the first time you saw him sleeping, it was quite unnerving, only the sapphire shining brightly while his good eye rested, but now the gemstone staring back at you was not only usual but comforting, a unique and enchanting charm in your opinion.

After getting up, you grab a cloth to clean the two of you, and although with a drowsy complaint from him, you manage to tuck the one-eyed in warm sheets. You put on your servant robes again and organize the mess you could deal with at the moment, gathering his armor as quietly as you can to be cleaned later. Pecking his pinkish lips slowly, you exit his quarters, feeling completely satisfied.

TAGS: @godrakin @m1ndbrand ♡⋆˙

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