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sp0o0kylights · 2 months

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"Valentines Day is a capitalistic scam made to sell chocolate and flowers!" Eddie Munson bellowed, leaping to the top of a cafeteria table not even ten minutes into lunch.

"Do you think he was born like this, or just dropped on his head as a baby?" Heather asked, rolling her eyes as the super senior began waving his arms around, getting way too into his annual “anti-valentines day” rant.

Steve, who'd tuned out the dramatics in favor of trying to figure out how he could ditch school, only heard her because she’d begun running her foot up his leg.

Directly in front of Patrick.

As if half the school didn’t know he planned on asking her out after school.

Long over being a part of these kinds of games, Steve kicked out, forcing Heather’s leg off his.

He did it harder than he intended and immediately winced, as if he hadn’t meant to do it at all. Aimed a sad little look at her, softening his eyes in the way he knew ladies loved while murmuring a quiet "sorry.”

A pudding cup was offered as an additional apology--which Heather, thankfully, accepted.

Crisis averted, Steve used the movement of handing the cup over to get his legs well out of Heather's range. He had other things to think about today, and getting drawn into whatever drama Heather was trying to brew wasn’t on the list.

Particularly given the basketball team as a unit had started snubbing him out.

"Newsflash ladies! Your man isn't taking you to some shitty restaurant because he loves you, he's doing it because he hopes you'll give it to him in your car!" Munson continued, voice growing impossibly louder.

A crude gesture followed, involving hip thrusts and hand jabs.

Several of the cheerleaders shot him disgusted looks as he did it.

"Definitely dropped on his head." Carol said, glaring at Munson as his little group of freaks and geeks cheered him. "More than once."

Steve hummed an agreement, more on automatic than from actually listening. He knew how to look like he was paying attention, even if his head was deep in possible escape plans.

If he dipped at the last minute to the bathroom on the way to fifth period, Tommy wouldn't have time to stop him and he could make a break for his car…

That just left making up a plausible enough excuse as to why thee Steve Harrington, whose single status was the current hot topic of the school, left school early on Valentines Day.

("Candy, sex, the overwhelming affection of all the ladies." Tommy drawled out that morning, practically preening. "Valentine's Day is the best holiday man. Just look at all this!"

He waved a hand at his locker, which was absolutely covered in paper hearts.

"The rally squad put hearts on the lockers of everyone on the basketball team, Tommy." Carol argued, rolling her eyes. "Steve’s is practically buried in them.”

Tommy opened his mouth to respond, no doubt with something else teasing and rude, but Carol’s elbow caught him in the gut first.

“If you keep acting like this you're not getting any sex." She warned.

"Aww baby, don't be like that. You know you're the only one for me." Tommy teased, with a wink that prompted Carol to smack him on the shoulder.

Laughing, he added: "Besides we can't fight or we'll miss our favorite game. Which poor gal thinks this year is the year Steve will take her out on a date!"

Carol allowed Tommy to put an arm over her shoulder, the two of them turning knowing grins on their friend as a singular unit.

Even if Steve hadn’t felt like their friend in a hot minute.

Not in the way he used to.

"I do love watching them stutter through their little confessions.” Carol admitted, like this wasn’t something they’d loved doing since middle school. “I wonder if anyone will ever top Cindy Komer."

Steve almost wasn't fast enough to cover his wince--that particular incident had been painful for him and Cindy.

Steve still had no idea what he'd said to make the then-freshman cry.

He thought he'd been nice about turning her down, but judging by Carol constantly quoting what he'd said, Steve had a feeling he'd accidentally been an asshole again.

Not that anyone ever thought it was accidental.

“Steve? Hel~lo? Are you listening?” Carol said, snapping to get his attention and God did Steve hate that.

Never realized just how much until Nancy but after she’d pointed out that Carol treated him and Tommy both like her dogs, well.

It was hard not to notice--and be a bit resentful.

“God you keep doing this, you’re turning into such a space case.” Carol continued, the edge back in her voice. The same one she’d been using for a while, like Steve was on her last nerve. “Please tell me you’re not still mooning over Nancy fucking Wheeler.”

“No.” He snapped, only to know instantly that was the wrong move, and try to fix it before Carol blew up. “No--I’ve just already had to fend someone off today. Like first thing--I was barely out of my car.”

There, that should keep Carol and Tommy both off his back for being “angry” and it wasn’t even a lie. He really had been asked out earlier, though the girl had been gracious about his rejection.

Of course, this kind of instant redirection came with a price--and in this case, it was being absolutely hounded for more information.

“Oh shit who!? Was it that Buckley girl?” Carol perked up immediately, like a hunting dog scenting prey. “I swear she stares holes in your head, she’s so weird…” )

"This isn't about romance! It's about showing who has the most cash, gets the most sex! It's a pathetic social ritual you're all falling for!” Munson yelled, jolting Steve back into the present. “I bet none of you even enjoy it!”

"Tell that to all the girls Steve’s dated!” One of the younger basketball guys hollered, prompting a wave of laughter from the rest of the cafeteria. “They seem to enjoy it plenty!”

Steve couldn’t see who had said it, and should have felt the normal wave of smug warmth that the team had his back.

Except his team had already proven they didn’t.

Were in fact, siding more and more with Hargrove, just as Tommy was.

They were rapidly approaching a watershed moment. Steve could feel it, the same way he’d always been able to tell when a crowd was about to turn.

He was losing, but was still on top of Hawkins social spaces enough, had caught it early enough, that he could turn everyone’s favor--if he wanted.

Emphasis on ‘if.’

Munson spun to face his table, hair whipping to smack him in the face. The guy had clearly been trying to grow it out, but right now he looked like one of those poodles Carol's mom loved so much.

So said Carol, anyway.

"You sure about that?" Munson challenged, a crazed grin breaking across his face. "Rumor has it King Steve lost his groove ever since Wheeler dumped him!"

Steve grimaced, though he was secretly thankful Munson went with "dumped" instead of "cheated on" (or any of the other vile words Billy had flung around, spreading across the school in the sick, crawling way rumors moved.

Hargrove had been positively brutal about the whole Jonathan and Nancy thing, and the only reason he wasn't here now to spin this whole situation against Steve was because the guy always vanished at lunch.)

Tommy's face morphed into an affronted snarl, hands slapping down on the table. He turned expectantly to Steve, waiting for "The King" to get up and "handle" Munson.

Like Steve even cared about this dumb high school shit anymore.

It took him a moment to realize Steve wasn’t planning on doing anything. Was in fact, going to remain perfectly quiet, other than an eyeroll and half-assed middle finger in Munson’s direction.

Tommy let out a disgusted scoff in his direction and then decided to handle things himself.

(Like that had ever been a good idea.)

“Shut up, Freak. The only game you have is in the prison showers.” He snapped, half rising from the table. “Isn’t that why you keep your hair long? So all the boys will actually fuck you?!”

Whistles and yells lit the air, though Steve didn’t miss how the girls at the table looked taken aback at the sheer vitriol in Tommy’s voice.

Even Carol looked startled, eyes sliding to meet Steve’s as if to confirm she hadn’t just imagined it.

The three of them had always been good at this kind of mindless high school banter, but this over the top, crude shit?

It wasn’t Tommy’s style.

It was Hargrove’s.

(That was its own growing issue.

The way Tommy was gravitating towards Billy.

How Carol kept expecting Steve to act like he used to.

That she blamed his “outbursts” on Nancy, snidely mentioning that Steve had better have learned his lesson about “changing his personality for pussy.”

Even now Steve knew they were only defending him because Munson was the one saying it.)

“I didn’t realize Harrington still had his attack dog!”

Munson put a hand against his heart as though injured, staggering dramatically backwards.

“I thought you were too busy putting your tongue up Hargrove’s ass to bark at people!”

Tommy immediately fired back, letting loose an uninspired string of curse words and something about Eddie being queer again. Steve didn’t hear the specifics--didn’t care to hear it, even as things started to spiral out of control.

All he wanted to do was go home.

Ideally before Billy got back from lunch and decided to make a spectacle himself, because Steve could feel that coming just as he could everything else.

He was running out of time to come up with an excuse to get out of here without making a production out of it, and Munson wasn’t someone he wanted to piss off today, given he’d half hoped to buy weed off the guy before he ditched.

…Which was looking more and more unlikely given Tommy had just screeched some insult that had put Munson’s sights back on Steve.

“You sure? Cause Harrington looks like he’s just gonna sit there and take it, just like he takes everything Hargrove and Wheeler and anyone else throws at him.”

He leered, leaning forward as if to see into Steve’s very soul.

“I don’t know if anyone else has noticed, but our beloved King here hasn’t exactly been defending his crown. If anything, he’s abandoned it.”

The world stopped.

This was the first time someone actually called him out on the fact that he often let whatever crap Billy spewed go. That Nancy and him had a few awkward encounters publicly, with at least one of them starting a rumor that she’d told Steve to fuck off.

(She hadn’t of course, but Carol had stopped running damage control, and Steve was feeling the effects of her ire.)

Silence echoed, and Steve realized with a dawning sort of horror, that Munson was waiting for a response from him.

Just as the entire cafeteria was.

The catalyst was here, brought on early by one Edward Munson.

With a startling amount of clarity, Steve realized he was done.

With his so called friends, with the girls who’d tried corning him all morning, with Hargrove and just--everything.

He was over it.

If Billy wanted the crown so bad he could fucking have it.

(If Tommy wanted to pretend he was tougher than he was by mimicking the dick, then he could have that too.)

“This is stupid.” Steve announced, dropping the masks he so carefully wore. The ones he kept having to fix, because the Upside Down and its related demons (human and non) kept taking chunks out of it.

He stood, feeling the weight of the room press down on him as he faced them all down.

“Yeah--!” Tommy started to pile on, seeming to think Steve was about to unleash hell, and got the surprise of a lifetime when Steve turned and jammed a finger in his face.

“Shut up.” He snapped.

Knew instantly he only got away with it by the fact that he’d caught everyone off guard.

King Steve did a lot of things, but he rarely blew up.

“This is stupid.” He reiterated, voice booming across the lunch room, “ You wanna fight? Fine, but leave me out of it.”

“The King doesn’t want to play? Why I never thought we’d see the day!” Munson clucked his tongue, and without missing a beat Steve turned to him.

“For someone who is always screaming about nonconformity, you sure are happy to attack anyone who doesn’t do what you want.”

Steve’s voice was loud, but he wasn’t screaming. Wasn’t yelling or throwing his arms around.

He didn’t need to. Had never needed to.

“I heard you going off on that guy whose lunch you're standing on yesterday, because he wanted to watch the Colts play.” Steve continued, voice cold. “Half of your friends are terrified of you, because you’ll scream at them just like you accuse us of doing--and let’s be real here, Munson, you do it more.”

In a dramatic move that absolutely, 100% came from Dustin and his theatrics, Steve shrugged his letterman jacket off and bunched it into a ball.

“You might as well crown yourself King, because you’re the exact same as the rest of us. Here--you can start with this.”

Cocking back an arm, Steve let the jacket fly. Watched with everyone else as it landed neatly right at Eddie’s feet.

Shell shocked, Munson’s eyes drifted from Steve down to the letterman jacket and back. They were massive, those stupid eyes of his, but at least it meant Steve could see the realization wash over the guy in real time.

Steve should have felt smug about it. His past self would have.

Presently?

He just felt tired.

“You’re welcome to jam it up your ass.” He finished, before giving his own sarcastic half bow to the room.

The cafeteria was dead silent. Not a fork was scraped, or a loud piece of chip chewed. All eyes were on Steve, some waiting to see if Eddie would let him have the last word, others just shocked to see Steve lose his shit in front of them.

Idiot he was, he tried to rally anyway.

Even Tommy, who’d partly stood up, hands pressed against the lunch table looked shocked.

“What the fuck Steve!?” He sputtered, and it wasn’t long before half the basketball team was muttering similar remarks.

They were ignored.

Whispers ripped across the room when Steve turned on his heel, striding towards the exit and making it clear things were over, but Tommy didn’t give up.

“Fuck you Harrington!” He hurled at his back, Carol now standing and placing a restraining hand on his arm. “You’re not fucking better than any of us!”

Steve didn’t even look back.

"That's my point Tommy." Steve said, loud enough to be heard. "No one is better than anyone else. You lot are all just buying into your own bullshit.”

Then he was slamming through the doors, and out into the sunlight.

xXx

He didn’t want to go home.

Not anymore, which was ironic in a way that made Steve’s face screw up in a grimace.

Here he’d been dying to go to his stupid house all day, and now, after losing his shit and undoubtedly, the last of his social standing, he just didn’t feel like being by himself.

All alone, in a house too big for him, full of nothing but dark corners and a phone that never rang.

So instead, he wandered, reminiscing on how Valentine's Day used to be his favorite day of the year.

Steve loved the gesture of it all--the romance, the wooing. The butterflies floating in one's stomach, mixing with fear of rejection and a burning kind of hope towards starting something new.

Of course, Steve also had always had a girl in mind, when he celebrated. Now, after Nancy…

He did not.

It felt weird to go to Skull Rock--the place he himself had made into Hawkins hottest makeout spots. Likewise all the local restaurants were off limits--too many adults knew how much he loved the holiday.

Steve didn’t want to face that. The expectations, the knowing winks that would slide into uncomfortable frowns. Any possible advice given wouldn’t be appreciated, and the last thing Steve wanted was to get the “everyone has an off season, son” speech.

So he’d stayed away from his usual haunts. Explored some storefronts instead, the Beamer parked in front of Family Video as he wandered.

Had an entirely too peaceful two hours, which of course, meant he had to bump into someone.

At least, Steve thought dully, whole body tensing in preparation, it was Munson.

Not Hargrove, or Tommy, or hell--the children, demanding he help them fight some other fucked up creature the government had accidentally summoned.

“Hey Harrington.” Munson said, and it took a moment for Steve to realize the guy was embarrassed. “I uh, I need to talk to you.”

Steve just stared at him.

“If you couldn’t tell from earlier,” He warned, “I’m a little done talking for today.”

Or any day, for the foreseeable future.

“Yeah no--I, I got that. I--okay.” Eddie stopped rocking on his heels, before giving his entire body a shake, like the guys sometimes did while prepping for a game. “Hear me out, and then you can deck me or leave or whatever makes you feel better.”

“I’m not going to deck you.” Steve said, exasperated and frazzled and not wanting to do this whole song and dance a second time.

Not that it mattered, because Munson had already launched right into whatever it was he needed to say.

“There’s this book right? My Uncle got it for me. It’s a fantasy book all about this big battle and there’s these wizards in it, and--” He stopped himself, shaking out his hands.

Like he realized he was rambling and needed the movement to get himself back on track.

“I always--I guess I saw myself as a Gandalf kinda guy? Like I was this shepherd herding these lost sheep. A person who intimately knew all the dark forces of the world and could be a shield for them. Do not pass and all that.”

He chuckled, but it was weak, and he killed it almost immediately.

“...Okay?” Steve said, knowing he was supposed to say something here, even if he had no idea what.

Maybe something about how Gandalf the Grey wasn’t exactly a shepard given he’d led the hobbits straight into Mordor, but saying that meant admitting Steve knew what Lord of the Rings was, which wasn’t a conversation he felt like getting into.

Particularly not because he’d only read the damn things after losing a bet to Dustin and Mike both.

Munson nodded, as if acknowledgement was all he needed.

“I thought that’s what I was doing. I wasn’t and I didn’t realize I wasn’t until you pointed it out. You shouldn’t have had to point it out. You shouldn’t have had to say any of what you did.” He rushed to add, oddly sincere.

"Is this…" Steve might be confused but catching on, an uptick at the corners of his mouth as the tiniest spark of amusement leaked through. "an apology? Are you trying to apologize right now?"

Eddie groaned, flinging his head back. "No!”

Then immediately;

“Actually yes, but--”

Which caught Steve off guard enough that he laughed, and had to hide it with a cough.

“I am sorry, man. I shouldn’t have said that shit about you, especially not about you and Wheeler. It's more than that though.” Munson swallowed, before squaring his shoulders. “It’s that you were right."

“I was right?” Steve repeated dumbly, because fuck, he couldn’t believe it either.

Not that Munson heard him. Eddie always had been hard to stop once he started, and Steve had been in enough classes with the guy to know the train had left the station.

"I did yell at Jeff because he wanted to watch that stupid football game.” He began, and Steve got a front row seat to watch as one Eddie Munson word vomited his way through a myriad of emotions.

“I fuckin’ lost it on Grant because he missed band practice to drive his sister to some thing. Gareth looked like I was going to hit him when I asked if I had really been that bad--same exact look he gave Hagan and those other assholes that cornered him in the bathroom two weeks ago!”

“Tommy did what?”

Steve was promptly ignored.

(Or more likely, Eddie simply didn’t hear him, too lost in his own voice to realize Steve had said something.)

There were a lot of mentions of the Gandalf guy. Where Eddie thought he’d gone wrong, and even something about a glowing eye thing that had Steve a little concerned until he realized Munson was talking about Sauron (and also made Steve realize that he’d been pronouncing Sauron in his head wrong, oops.)

“I called up this friend of mine who graduated. She’s always been no nonsense, so I asked her for her advice.” Munson said, finally seeming to slow down a little. “She told me I might as well eat my own doctrine because I sure wasn’t living by it, and that if I wanted to fix it then I should start by apologizing. To everyone but--to you, first.”

Eddie took a step back, winging out his hands as if to present himself.

“So here I am. Apologizing.”

A pause wherein neither of them did a thing, which caused him to awkwardly add; “To uh, you. Harrington.”

“Yeah I got that.” Steve said, because what else was he supposed to do here? “Good for you? I guess?”

“Most people either forgive a guy or tell him to fuck off.” Munson pouted, and mimicked like he was kicking at a rock.

It made Steve want to laugh again, though he shoved the urge down.

“Someone once told me,” He said instead, speaking slowly to make damn sure he didn’t let slip this piece of advice came from a middle schooler. “that apologies without actions don’t really mean anything. They’re a start--they let people know you’re aware you screwed up, but no one’s going to trust you if you don’t follow through. So I can forgive you, but I think you’re better off doing this with one of your friends.”

Someone who would hug it out, or at least tell Eddie how he could be better, at least.

Rather than argue, Munson just titled his head back, eyes to the sky. Like he was really thinking on the words, before giving a sort of accepting sounding noise.

“Trying too.” Steve admitted with a sigh.

“That’s what you’ve been doing, isn’t it?” He asked, head coming back down so he could stare at Steve.

“The thing in the cafeteria was a good start.”

“Yeah?”

Eddie grinned.

“Yeah. Don’t think Hagan’s gonna see it the same way though.”

“We were falling out anyway.” Steve admitted, and hated how easy it was to say.

That they really were just going through the motions of friendship. Had been, ever since Jonathan had punched Steve in the face.

“Think you lost more than just him as a friend, to be honest.”

“Pro tip about the actions thing, Munson?” Steve said with a snort, once again unsure of where this conversation was going, “Nice people don’t typically point out when someone’s turned into a social pariah.”

“No, I get that. Say,” Eddie’s grin had grown, which Steve would have taken poorly except he invaded Steve’s space with a goofy little hop. “I think you might be in need of some new ones!”

“New…friends?” Steve hesitated, very unsure of what was happening.

Munson promptly stuck his hand out. “Yup! So--hello, my name is Eddie Munson, and I am here to apply for the position as your friend!”

Steve snorted, but the harshness of it was taken away by the grin on his face.

He took Eddie’s hand, noting how doing so made the older teen’s smile widen.

“Nice to meet you Eddie, I’m Steve.”

Excited, Eddie waived their arms up and down, with far more enthusiasm than the gesture required.

“How about we cement our new friendship by renting a truly terrible horror movie and drowning our woes with my other good friend, Mary Jane?”

Then he waggled his eyebrows, like that was something scandalous.

“Tempting me along with weed, huh?” Steve mused back, sticking his hands in his pockets once Eddie let him go. “Guess you’re a little like Gandalf the Gray after all. Just don’t send me on any missions.”

“Steve Harrington.” Eddie gaped, pure delight spreading across his face. “Have you read Lord of the Rings!?”

He got a shrug and a sly; “Maybe.” in response.

It was worth the barrage of questions, even if the rapid fire pace of them nearly gave Steve a headache.

(Just as it was worth it several months later, when Steve was comfortable enough to instigate wrestling matches with Eddie over the dumbest of things.

One particularly semi-drunk tussle over the remote led to an interesting discovery when Eddie popped a boner, and then frantically tried to escape when it brushed against Steve’s leg.

Instead of panicking--or letting Eddie bolt in his panic, Steve just dropped his whole weight down, effectively pinning the slimmer man to the floor.

“Steve.”

Eddie said it so quietly he almost didn’t hear it, the word filled with desperation.

The kind of tone someone whispered a prayer in, a sort of pleading that Eddie did better with his eyes than his voice. Or would have, given his own were firmly scrunched closed the second he realized he’d been caught out.

Except--

“Not right now I’m thinking.” Steve told him absently.

Which he was. Speed thinking even, if that was a thing.

Because if two plus two equaled four (which it did) then feeling the exact same, fluttering excitement about Eddie’s boner as Steve had Nancy’s breasts, equaled…

“The fuck? Steve--”

Steve shushed him.

That pulled a frustrated, embarrassed groan from Eddie that went directly to Steve’s own dick, not that it needed much help waking up.

“I think I’m having one of those crisis’s Robin is always accusing the basketball team of having.” Steve informed Eddie dutifully, the dots done connecting.

Eddie, still refusing to open his eyes, snorted.

“Whatever man. Can you at least be decent and hurry up with the beating? This is embarrassing enough.”

“I’m not going to beat you up.” Steve said, thankful that his brain managed not to add some shitty comment about the entire town being awash in rumors of Eddie’s sexuality. That he’d confirmed it here wasn’t exactly a surprise.

“I’m going to try something. If you don’t like it, let me know.” Streve added, before screwing up his courage and leaning down.

That of course, got Eddie to open his eyes.

“Wha--” He managed, before Steve’s lips were on his.

For one single, blissful moment, Eddie Munson’s mouth was too busy to talk.

“Yeah?” Eddie said, voice wrecked, and oh, Steve liked that.

“Huh.” Steve muttered, when they broke for air. “Well that’s new.”

Liked the way Eddie looked at him more, hesitant, but with heat in his gaze.

Steve had always been good about knowing what to do with heat.

He leaned back down, pecking lightly at Eddie’s lips, and was delighted to find Eddie not only let him, but kissed back.

“Not bad, Munson, but I think I could give you a few pointers.” Steve muttered, nose ghosting alongside Eddie’s. “Let me show you…”

One boyfriend, several weeks, and another interdimensional monster later, Steve found himself socked in the arm by none other than his coworker, Robin Buckley.

In her defense, she’d confessed her love for Tammy Thompson, still somewhat drugged on the Starcourt bathroom floor, only for Steve to tease her that at least his boyfriend could actually sing.

“God you and Eddie Munson.” She muttered after, smile on her face. “How did that happen?”

Steve knocked his shoe into hers, returning the grin unabashedly.

“So remember last Valentines Day?” Steve started, all too eager to finally tell someone who understood about the best thing to ever happen to him.

Robin of course, would soon also be ranked in that same chart, but Eddie didn’t need to know that. )

#DADDYS BACK #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #pre steddie to steddie #0o0 fanfics #be gentle with me I JUST got my computer back lmao #this was a warmup I finished out #Ive been writing at work on my lunches #yes I have been working on adopt a jock #and the third part of the holiday hellfire fic #I think I stared at that steddisy one once #maybe #IDK this whole ass month has been a blurr

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marvelsmylife · 2 months

Text

Damned if you do, damned if you don’t

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Plot: After accidentally listening to your mate confess to his brothers that he thinks your clingy, you decided to give him space and discover who you are outside of your relationship. What happens when Azriel notices the distance between the two of you. Will he fix what he broke or will he make it worse.

Warning: Angst angst angst. Accusations of cheating. Azriel’s an ass by the end of this.

A/n don’t worry, I’m already planning on making a part two to this. I always try to have happy endings to all of my stories.

Part two Part Three Bonus Scene

ACOTAR Masterlist

Prompt list

She’s just- She's just very clingy. You were not supposed to hear the current conversation Azriel was having with his brothers. But that didn’t mean you weren’t allowed to be hurt by what your mate was saying: “I just wish she would get a hobby or make friends outside of our inner circle. I feel like I can't go anywhere without her asking where I’m going or if she could tag along,” Azriel added and earned a disapproving look from Cassian.

“You don’t mean that,” Cassian argued back: “I would give anything for Nesta to want to spend that amount of time with me.”

It was no secret how complicated Cassian’s relationship with his mate. He’d vented to Azriel and Rhysand about his frustration with the current status of his and Nesta’s relationship. He told Azriel countless times how much he wished he had what you and Azriel had.

Not being able to stomach what your mate was saying about you, you disappeared into your bedroom and silently cried yourself to sleep.

The following morning, instead of waking up Azriel with breakfast in bed like you usually do, you decided to wander the streets of Velaris. In all the time you have lived in this city, you've never really explored it, only going to Rita’s, Rhysand's townhouse, and the river house.

You weren’t sure what you were looking for in particular, so you just decided to go with the flow and see where you ended up. You started with grabbing breakfast at a tiny restaurant you’ve probably passed a dozen times but didn’t notice until now.

Following that, you decided to shop to pass the time. You were ready to head home when you stumbled upon a dance studio. It was always your dream to be a dancer growing up, but seeing as your family was too poor for you to buy you lessons, your dream never got to be fulfilled. That was until today.

You contemplated if you wanted to enter the studio when a male stepped out of the building and asked: “Are you planning on signing up for classes?”

“No, no,” you shook your head as you wrapped your arms around your body: “I’ve never danced a day in my life, so I’ll probably make a fool of myself.”

The male let out a small laugh at your response: “Don’t worry, the morning classes are for beginners. Come, you can sit in during this class, and you could decide if you want to join after.”

You were about to decline his offer when the events from the night before flooded your mind again. She’s too clingy. She needs to get a hobby and make new friends. “You know what? Why not. I have nothing planned for the day,” you responded and followed the male into the dance studio.

It was lunchtime by the time the dance class was over, and you decided to sign up to start taking classes the following day. Everyone was so friendly to you, and you could tell the instructor was passionate about teaching others how to dance. That inspired you to sign up to take classes for a month and see where you go from there.

Throughout the class, though, you felt Azriel tug on the bond. Which was strange because he’d never done that before. You would reciprocate just to let him know you were ok.

As soon as you left the studio, you decided to stop by Rhysand’s townhouse to see Feyre and Nyx. To your surprise, everyone was there, including Azriel, who was currently playing with Nyx. This was strange because Azriel and Cassian usually spent most of their day training the Valkyrie.

“Y/n !” Feyre squealed with excitement as she ran to greet you.

Azriel’s immediately looked over at you. He wanted to go towards where you were so he could ask where you went in the morning, but Nyx forbade him from leaving where he was. So, instead, he had to hear you tell everyone what you were up to.

“That’s amazing !” Feyre smiled. She knew about your dream of being a dancer and has been trying to convince you to take classes with the money Rhysand has been paying you.

After spending an hour catching up with everyone, you told them you had to pick up a few things for your first day. “I promise I’ll come straight here after my first class to tell you how it went,” you promised while grabbing your things.

Azriel was surprised when you started walking towards the front door without asking him if he wanted to go with you. “Um, would you like for me to accompany you?”

“No, thank you,” you replied without looking at him: “But thank you for offering.”

While you were hurt by what Azriel confessed to his brothers, you weren't going to be rude towards him for his own feelings.

Everyone glanced at Azriel, puzzled because you always wanted Azriel’s company when you went out, especially if it involved shopping. “Is everything ok between you and y/n? She always wants you to go shopping with her, mainly so you can carry her bags, but still,” Mor asked.

“I don’t know,” Azriel replied honestly: “Last time I checked, we were doing ok.”

Cassian wanted to make a snide comment about the conversation they had the night before, but he kept his mouth shut.

That became your routine for the next six months. You woke up, went to dance classes, and either hung out with the new friends you made at dance class or spent time at the river house. As much as Azriel’s words hurt you, you could not help but thank him. If it wasn't for him, you would not be doing what you loved and creating so many new friendships.

Throughout that time, though, Azriel noticed you were pulling away from him. He missed waking up to you making him breakfast in bed. He missed when you would pester him about details of his day, but most of all, he missed your constant physical contact.

While you haven’t completely stopped touching him, he noticed you stopped sitting so close to him that you were basically on top of him. He also noticed you’ve stopped inviting him to go anywhere with you and stopped asking if you could tag along whenever he would go into town.

He was growing worried you were falling out of love with him or worse, you were cheating on him.

He knew your dance instructor was a male and grew paranoid that you were cheating on him with your instructor. “She’s not cheating on you Az. She loves you too much to do that to you,” Rhysand reassured Azriel.

“I would have believed you if you would have said that six months ago,” Azriel hid his face in his hands: “But she’s a completely different person now. She barely touches me anymore. The last time we had sex was over a month ago. I’m going crazy, and she doesn’t even care.”

Cassian couldn’t help but roll his eyes at Azriel’s comment: “Sex isn’t everything you know. Have you tried talking to her about this?”

“It is if we used to do it at least once a day, and to answer your question, no, I haven’t because she’s never home. She’s been at that dumb dance studio rehearsing for a recital they’re having tomorrow.”

“Instead of complaining about her dancing, why don’t you go to the recital to support her. Just because you think it’s dumb doesn’t mean it’s not important, especially to her,” Rhysand advised.

As much as Azriel didn’t want to, he did what Rhysand suggested and went to your dance recital the next day. He showed up with a big bouquet of roses that earned some stares from strangers in the audience. He didn’t care. He was there for you and only you.

And he was so happy he ended up going. He watched in awe as you danced so elegantly across the stage. He mentally cursed himself for calling what you were doing dumb because watching you dancing made him fall in love with you all over again. By the time the recital was finished, Azriel had a speech about how proud he was of you and how amazing you looked dancing on stage.

Unfortunately, right as he was about to approach you after the recital ended, your instructor pulled you into a hug and spun you around.

Azriel was fuming and threw the roses he bought for you on the floor before stocking over to where you were: “Azriel. You-”

You didn’t have a chance to finish before Azriel ripped your instructor off of you and started punching him.

“Azriel ! ! !” You yelled at your mate as he punched your instructor repeatedly.

It took six male faes to finally remove Azriel from your instructor. “I’m sorry y/n. You are a phenomenal student, but you can not attend my classes anymore. You and your mate are banned,” your instructor said before storming away.

You felt your heart break at the news you were given and found yourself dropping to the floor. To Azriel’s credit, he immediately regretted his actions and tried to comfort you: “Y/n, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t,” you glared at your mate and started getting up: “How could you do this to me. You knew how important dancing was to me, and now you got me banned from the place I started to call home.”

“I’m your home ! ! !” Azriel yelled defensively: “I barely see you anymore because you spend all your time at that dumb dance studio. I just want my mate back!”

You let out a dry laugh at Azriel’s comment: “I was just giving you exactly what you wanted. For me to not be so damn clingy all the time. I found a hobby and made friends, but now you ruined it.”

Azriel stiffened at your words. He remembered the night he said those horrible words and the harsh words both Cassian and Rhysand had said to him afterward. They made him realize what he had with you was unique, and he should cherish every moment he had with you because tomorrow was never guaranteed, especially for them. He just didn’t know you overheard him say those things: “Y/n, I’m so sorry. I didn’t-”

“Save it. I can’t even look at you right now,” you inhaled sharply: “I’m going to stay with a friend for a few nights. Don’t worry, it’s not my instructor. Our friendship is clearly done after the stunt you just pulled.” You started walking away but turned around to add: “He’s gay, by the way. He has a partner and a beautiful son they adopted three years ago.”

And just like that, the weight of Azriel’s actions hit him as he watched you walk away.

@byyalady @sheblogs @janebirkln @starsinyourseyes @cumuluscranium @honeybee54321

#azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar imagine #acotar x reader

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hoshigray · 1 year

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Now look here, it's sugardaddy! x sugar baby! reader time >>:3 So here's the rundown: the reader is a college senior who works part-time in a diner and finds out that their favorite customer, Toji, is a sugar daddy and wants to initiate courtship. Although it is a proposition you fail to see yourself saying no to, is this something you can see yourself being in the long run?

A/n: This prompt was picked on a poll to celebrate getting over 50 followers, only for me to get to 100 right after!!?? Y'all...can I give you a hug? ;w; No, oh okay. Anyways, I won't make another poll, BUT I'll be opening thirsts/requests soon!! >:D I just gotta make myself a disclaimer list before we let those lil fantasies of yours fly, lol. But yeah, this is my first time posting a fic over 1k+, so I hope y'all like it. Also, bonus: there's art drawn by Moi (@hoshigaby)?? You'll have to scroll down to find it tho :33 Okay, I'm sorry, go ahead and read!!!

Cw: soft dom! Toji x fem! reader - implied age gap (the reader is in their early 20s, Toji's around early or mid-30s) - mating press - cervix fucking - oral (fem! receiving) - pussy drunk Toji - breeding - daddy kink - overstimulation (fem! receiving) - pet names (baby, babygirl, darlin', good girl, honey, kid/kiddo, mama, princess, sweetie, sweetheart) - praise - clitoral play (Toji pinches your clit) - reader isn't a virgin but, it's the first time you and Toji have sex.

Wc: 4.9k

"Oh look, your favorite is here."

10 o'clock, it's closing time. All the servers and bussers are ready to buss down tables and sweep the floors, hosts at the front split up tips and head straight home, and the cooks clean the kitchen and throw out the trash. All there's left is the silence of the dining area, where not a single customer is in sight.

Well, minus the one Utahime points out to you.

You turn to the bar area, where almost all the tables are empty, and all the high-rise televisions are turned off. All but for one, which was showing a football game.

A man is watching the screen, sitting in a booth at the far end with a glass of beer on the table. He's wearing a black turtleneck covered with a denim jacket, white fur on the collar, and a silver chain contrasting the black clothing. You gaze downwards to his black jeans pants, where his left foot seems to be tapping the ground. He's waiting for someone.

Once his eyes catch your approaching figure, his deadpanned face shows a smile in recognition. He was waiting for you.

And you smile back as you walk towards him.

The familiarity with this man comes from a year working at the diner. His name is Toji Fushiguro, and he's been a regular even before you started working here. And to make things funnier, he was the first customer you served after a week and a half of training. You can recall when you accidentally put milk and sugar in his specifically requested black coffee, to which you apologized profusely ("Heh, it's alright, darlin'" He flashed a smile that was meant to reassure you. "The first time that's ever happened to me.").

It was there that you found yourself being the only person that's served him. At first, you thought of it as some sort of joke after the coffee mishap, but now, unless you're there to take his order, he'll only have a beer or black coffee with all the other servers. The crew often pokes fun at you, stating you're the older man's favorite. And you gotta admit, it makes your heart swoon knowing this is true.

"There she is," Toji watches you approach him with his foot finally stopped tapping the checkered floor beneath him. "My adorable lil' server."

You giggle as you sit on the cushioned booth seat across from him. "It's good to see you, Mr. Fushiguro. I hope life's been good for you." You wave goodbye to the guy behind the bar counter, who turns off the TV still on as Toji focuses on something else. You promised to be the last person to turn off the lights and lock the doors before leaving, so now it's just you and Toji.

"I thought I told you to drop the Mr. Fushiguro, kid." He reprimands you with his playful smile, the right corner of his lip quirking his scar upward. "And I could ask you the same thing. How's college goin', darlin'?"

An exaggerated sigh leaves your system. "It's going alright. Can't believe I'm about to be done after the next semester, but the senioritis hasn't hit me too strong yet, thank God. And I can't wait to graduate with all this debt on my back~!" You flash the fakest beaming smile with two thumbs up.

Toji chuckles at your fraud enthusiasm. "Mmmm, I bet. But I know you're smarter than me and most people who work for me, so I'm sure you'll do just fine."

"Yeah, I'd like to think so, too." Your chipper attitude dwindles, and Toji notices the change in tone.

"What's up? You don't think you'll get yourself a job?"

"Umm, well," You cough to clear your throat from awkwardness. "I tried signing up for plenty of internships. Some of them shut me down, others just haven't replied back. And I guess it's just me overthinking, but I worry that I won't get a job in something I like..."

"Aww, princess," Toji rises from his cushioned spot to move to your side, sitting close to you with his big jean-covered thigh brushing yours. He places a hand on your back to rub comforting circles. "That's just the thoughts in your head."

You groan into your hands. "I know, that's why I don't know why I'm beating myself up about it so much... But it's okay! I know I'll be fine because I still have this job keeping me going for a year."

Toji raises a brow. "You wanna be a server all your life? Wanna serve me my black coffee and BLT sandwich til my last breath?"

You hit his chest in amusement. "Well, no, but if it comes down to it, I don't mind. I'll just take up more jobs or maybe make a side hustle. Either way, I know Mei Mei will help me out. I'm sure everyone here will if they have the chance."

"I could also help you."

Your hands instantly go up defensively. "No, Mr. Fushiguro, I wouldn't want that! I'm sure you're pretty busy, and I don't want my troubles to burden you."

Toji's eyebrows knit together, his sharp eyes surveying your defensive stance. "It wouldn't be trouble if I'm the one offerin' to help you, honey."

"Yes, but even so..." You look at your lap as your fingers dance with each other to ease your anxiousness. "It would feel unbefitting to have a customer — a valuable one such as you — to help me with my financial problems. Seeing you smile at me when I serve you your coffee...I'm perfectly content with just."

Your gaze locks into your fidgety fingers, saying the last part was probably unnecessary. Yet it was true; Toji had always been patient with you whenever he stopped by, even going the extra mile by giving you a seriously generous tip after his meals. You know you didn't deserve it, but he's already at the door before you can argue with him. If his gracious action was just a mere small percent of what he could do, then he's done plenty for you than needed.

Toji, however, didn't see it that way. He hums as he leans back onto the booth seat, his hand now snaking to the back of your neck, his thumb caressing the nook of your neck and trapezius.

"Well," He breaks the silence, you're listening. "What if we take this outside of customer service?"

The brows are pulled together as you turn to him in slight confusion. "What do you mean by that?"

"I've been thinking for quite a while," with his hand maneuvering to rest on your shoulder, he sighs and straightens himself up. "Your manager, Mei Mei, right? I talked with her not too long ago, telling her how much of a hard worker you are and how even while still in school and suffering with assignments, you still smile and make sure the customers enjoy their time here."

You give him a thanks, and he continues on. "Which is why I told her about what I wanna do. So here's my proposition: I'll pay for everything for you. Your debt, bills, clothes, whatever it is your pretty lil' head is worryin' 'bout."

Toji's promise does sound comforting to the ears, but you think about your part in all this. "So, do I have to work for you?"

He chuckles. "No, baby, not working fr' me. But there is something I want you to do."

"Yes?"

Toji doesn't give you a clear answer, staring at your face with a soft smile. You wonder why he's being odd until his face leans forward, and the hand on your shoulder pushes you into a kiss. You let out a yelp into his mouth, but the shock diminishes once you succumb to his warm, intoxicating lips. He tastes like beer, definitely from his drink.

He removes his lips from you, and you faintly exhale in an unsteady breath. "Mmmm, yer too much fr' me, sweetie." Toji groans and kisses down your neck while you place a hand on his chest to grip his turtleneck for support before you dissolve into his arms. And although you shouldn't be at your work at this time of night doing this, it felt too good to end.

"I want you to be with me," Toji says in-between smooches on your neck, moving to paint the other side with his pecks. "You're so good to me, darlin', always being such a good girl." He nibbles on your clavicle, and a soft gasp rewards his eardrums. "Lemme take care of you, y/n."

All that's going through your head is the feeling of his lips on your body and the arousing throbbing sense happening in your nether core.

"Hmm, whaddya say, baby?" His lips are too close to your ear as he playfully bites the lobe. Your thighs rub against one another, and you know there's a wet spot in your panties. "Gonna be my perfect girl?"

If you don't give him an answer quick, you're bound to melt right on this seat, and being a whimpering mess to his touch is embarrassing enough.

"Haaaah...Y-yes," You finally answer in weak whispers, mind spinning and eyes glossy. "I wanna—Ahaaa...I wanna be yours."

You can feel Toji's lips curl into a smile. He lifts his head to look at you, and a hand comes up to cup your face before he gives you a soft kiss on your quivering lips.

"My good girl."

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A few months have passed since you and Toji formed this new relationship. And getting used to certain things is still a challenge.

For one: covering up your new lifestyle is never easy when you're out with people you know. During winter break, you went to dinner with your friends and offered to pay for the whole table. They looked at you as if you were talking nonsense ("Girl, where the hell you get that kind of money to be covering for all of us?" "For real, is this the same diner you've been working at? Are they hiring?").

Another thing that wasn't easy to get accustomed to was Toji spoiling you. Since you're a college student, Toji only sees you every other weekend when he has time. During those days, Toji doesn't hold back in showering you with gifts and affection. Between the fancy dates in expensive restaurants, riding rides at fun amusement parks, or the bags of new clothes you bring back to your dorm, it was something you didn't expect to happen so quickly. Your roommates constantly tease you about this "mystery man" who makes it known you're his special lady.

But outside of that, the most significant change was you and Toji. To say you two got closer was too easy to put into words. Sure, the money was there, so you could finally get a good night's rest without worrying too much about your school debt or bills. However, you knew this went beyond the dollar bills and the fancy clothes.

Come to find out, Toji knows and remembers things that amaze you. There was a time he bought you a whole wardrobe worth of dresses because he remembered you had to cancel dates with your friends since you had nothing cute to wear. Or the time he got you a box of your favorite teas, even though you briefly mentioned them to him during a talk way back from recollection.

And even away from the materialistic things, you can feel how much Toji loves you. You can feel it in his eyes whenever he's looking at you. You can feel it when you try to argue yourself out of trying an outfit you don't think will be good on you, but Toji coaxes you into it because he knows — not thinks, knows you'll look good wearing it. You can feel it in his hands when they hold yours, when he places a hand on your thigh and rubs it in loving warmth, or when he caresses your cheek when he kisses you goodbye when you two have to return to your own lives.

It's a type of love you didn't see yourself being on the other end of. The more immersed you are, the harder it is to imagine yourself out of it.

Spring break is now upon us, and Toji has invited you to join him overseas for a business trip. You tried to decline, saying it's his trip and you don't want to intrude on his business. That argument was immediately shut down ("Tch, believe me, sweetheart, you're saving me from bashing someone's head in if you're close to me than not. Plus, I wanna see you wear that cute swimsuit I got you."), so he dragged you on his private jet, and now we're here.

During the day is when he's away for work, so you spend the morning either in the penthouse suite you two are staying in, outside taking pictures to show Toji later or looking around at the little shops nearby. Toji is done with work around the early afternoon, so you two spend time together exploring the country, trying new foods, and taking walks around the area while talking about how your day went until the sun goes down.

Everything goes well until Thursday when Toji texts you saying something happened at work and that he'd be at the suite later than usual. Well, it's 7:45, the sun is starting to go down, and Toji is still nowhere in sight. I hope everything is alright on his end.

You're unsure about going outside for a walk on the off-chance you stay out too late. And if something happens to you while Toji isn't close by, that'll give him more to worry about on his plate, and you definitely don't want that for him.

So, you look around the penthouse to see if there's anything to keep you occupied until Toji's return, and then what catches your eye is the swimming pool outside on the terrace which you haven't tried yet. That'll do!

You go to change into a swimsuit, a cute two-piece that Toji bought for you when you two went shopping together. After a quick shower, you enter the pool and enjoy the calm waters while watching the sunset, leaving a beautiful array of colors painting the sky over you.

Tomorrow is your last day here while Toji will do business, and then you're back to school on Monday. The fact that you'll be graduating debt free still blows your mind. Toji really fulfilled his promise and took care of your worries.

Is that to say that your relationship ends once you touch that diploma?

You lift your feet and lay on your back to allow the water to hold you up, ears covered in the water and face looking into the sky as you're lost in your thoughts.

It wouldn't be too far off if Toji wanted to close this whole thing off when you graduate, as the point was for you to not worry about debt and such. That much you understood from the very beginning. But what happens after that? Do you two just go back to being acquaintances that only meet at the diner? And what about the stuff he got you? Do they stay with you forever? And do you have to fight memories of him every time you see them?

What about all the touches, all the hand-holding, all the cuddles, and all the kisses? Are they supposed to mean nothing to you the next time you see his face?

You're thankful for the water keeping you afloat in the pool, but having these thoughts attack your brain just makes you want to sink in loathing.

Until you feel something tickle your feet, having your body react in a state of panic. No longer floating on your back, you search for whatever is torturing your feet. Only to find Toji in front of you wearing black trunks, he chuckles lowly, and your heart sinks in embarrassment.

"T-Toji," You swim up to greet him. "How long were you back from work?"

"For about 10 minutes," He watches you move through the water, following you to sit in the shallow part of the pool for you two to talk. "I saw you in the pool and thought I'd join. I tried callin' out to ya, but the water was blocking your ears."

"Hehe, sorry about that. I was thinking about something. How was work?"

His face went into a deep scowl with rolled eyes, and you giggle at his nonverbal response. "Had I not known I was comin' back here to see you, I'd probably fucked that rookie up."

"That bad?"

He hums and brings you closer to him with his hand on your shoulder. "But don't worry 'bout it. And you? What were you thinking about?"

"Hmm? Oh, it was nothing," your encouraging response is fictitious.

Toji lowers a brow. "Try again."

"No, honest! It was nothing, Toji."

"Don't make me tickle you again, kiddo." You freeze and look at his face. His sharp gaze and slight grin speak for themselves about his seriousness.

A sigh is withdraw from your lips. "I was just thinking about how I'd be leaving on Saturday and being halfway done with my senior year of college."

"And?"

"And, uhh," You gulp and avert your eyes to your lap, your fingers swaying with the pool water. "I was also thinking about me... and you?"

There's silence, the lack of response eating you alive. Then you feel Toji's hand grip your shoulder.

"Are you scared I won't be with you after you graduate?"

He hit the nail because you don't answer for a few seconds. Your eyes still avoid him.

But Toji still persists. "Do you not want to be with me?"

Your head turns to face him in haste, taking you aback at how fast you were. "No! I don't want this to end. I'm grateful for how close you and I have become. I want... I want..." You fall silent once more as your head moves back to your lap as if you'd find the words you want to express lying there.

Using his free hand, Toji grabs your chin to look his way again. "What do you want, baby? Use your words fr' me."

The intense gaze of his jade-green eyes captures your attention, practically daring you to look away from him. The warmth of your cheeks spreads around your face, and you gulp before answering.

"I really appreciate all that you've done for me. And I...I really like you, Toji. I want to be with you." His face doesn't change as you ramble on, causing you to move your eyes to avoid the awkward stare. "But I wouldn't blame you if you want to stop with where we—"

Your sentence was interrupted by Toji's kiss, and a squeak was suppressed between the two lips. You exhale in bliss as your hands find purchase on his solid chest. He deepens the kiss when his hand is posted at the back of your neck.

You break the kiss to breathe, Toji's gruff chuckles fills the warm air.

"You're too adorable, princess. Do you really think I'd want to let my precious girl away from my sight?" You open your mouth to interject, but Toji lifts your hand and brings it to his lips, kissing each knuckle. "Listen here, darlin'. I didn't offer to take care of your debt on a whim. I adore the fuckin' shit out of you, and I was gonna wait til your graduation to ask if you'd still want this thing to be official."

"But now that I hear you're interested," his big hand holds yours, fingers intertwined as his thumb brushes your forefinger. "Are ya up for it?"

You breathe slowly to ease your heart, beating at an irregular tempo. You grip his hand in return and offer a sheepish smile.

"Yes. I'd like that very much, Toji."

He smirks and kisses your cheek. "Good girl." Toji has his arms placed behind your back and under your legs. Then he stands up while picking up your figure bridal style. He grins hard when you squeal in surprise as your arms sling around his neck.

"Let's shower," he walks out of the pool and into the suite. "And then afterward, I'll show you how much I've been itchin' to make you be my girl for real."

The heat on your face grows tenfold, and Toji barks a laugh when you hide your face. You can only mentally pray for yourself for what's to come.

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That little prayer did absolutely nothing!

Now you're lying on the bed nude and wet from the shower as the water droplets on your body slide down to the satin sheets beneath you. Your hands cover your mouth, trying to suppress the moans and sobs from exiting your lips.

And the cause of this is the man currently nestled between your legs. You can see the raven hair between your inner thighs, but you feel a wet muscle lapping around your vulva. The lewd noises of Toji eating you out fill the room and has you writhing in discomfort, and you try to slowly move your lower region away from his ravaging mouth.

"Aht aht, you're not goin' anywhere, mama." Toji's rough hands grip your waist and pull you back down, his nose brushing your clit as you jerk upwards. He lifts his head to look at you, and the image of your slick smeared all over his mouth and chin almost makes you faint.

"Put those hands down, baby. Let Daddy hear that sweet voice of yours." He uses one hand to play with your pussy, middle and forefinger abuse your inner lips as his thumb grinds down on your sweet bud. Your eyes shoot up for the stars, and you're forced to do what he says, hands gripping the sheets while your cries are out for him to hear.

"Aahhhh!! Haaah, T-Toji!! 'S too much, too—Ooohh!" His tongue returns between your cunt, licking and tasting the sticky fluid coating your pussy. Your eyes are watering, your mind starts to feel dizzy, and your legs can't stay still to save your life. He's been doing this for 15 minutes!!

You clutch his hair and wail out his name in pleasure, earning a moan from Toji as his grip on your thighs gets tighter.

He can tell you're close to finishing, so he helps you. His tongue slides from your wet center to your clitoris, licking and sucking on the extremely sensitive bud, his teeth lightly pressing down on the pearl.

Your release comes instantly, and your walls spasm as you cry in pure euphoria. Your head pushed deep into the pillow below you, letting your body finish reacting to the climax. However, Toji doesn't wait for you when his mouth drinks your essence. His tongue attacked your sore velvety walls, having you gasp for air.

When he's done, he finally withdraws from between your legs and kneels before you, taking in your disheveled figure. Your tear-stricken face and hooded eyes peer up at him as he wipes his face of your excess come, licking the rest from the back of his hand.

Toji snickers hoarsely. "Sorry, sweetheart, you tasted so fuckin' good I couldn't help myself. Besides," you watch his hands trail down to his dick as he places himself on your messy vagina. "Gotta get you prepped up fr' me."

He puts a pillow under your lower back to raise your hips more. Seeing his dick for the first time has you in mental turmoil. Toji notices you looking and sneers, pulling your hips to him so his balls practically kiss your opening, his dick on full display on your lower abdomen. The girth alone has your cunt pulsating in anticipation, and good God, the length of that thing. It's not the first dick you've seen in your life, but it's definitely the biggest challenge you've come across.

I hope those 15 minutes of prep were enough.

You come back to your senses when you feel the tip of his hefty member circling the corners of your folds, and your slick aids him as a lubricant.

"Ready, babygirl?" You exhale a nervous breath and nod for confirmation. "Okay, we're gonna start real slow."

Toji began to push the tip in, your folds being spread open to accommodate the foreign object intruding into your tight hole. You close your eyes and hold your breath, the pain worsening by the second. You take one breath, and Toji pushes further. With another breath, he goes further. Another-

A giant gasp takes over you as the tip of Toji's cock enters you. And Toji takes his time pushing himself further into you, using every fiber of his being not to rut into your tight walls off the jump.

"Haaah, hmmm, oh fuck," That's easier said than done with you gripping onto him like your life depended on it. Once he's pushed his whole cock into you, your words come out as a babbling mess, gripping his arms for support. He looks down at your disarranged self, chuckling at such a wonderful sight. "You look really fuckin' sexy layin' under me, baby."

"God...Toji," Tears stream down your cheeks, wincing at the pain down south. "'S too muuu-ch, too big for—Hnnngh!!" A sudden thrust of the hips has you biting down on your bottom lip.

"C'mon now, I thought I told you about that. I already let it slide once or twice." Toji places your legs on his shoulders and leans close to you, his body weight adding onto yours as the base of his cock grinds into your sex. "What's my new name, mama?"

"Ah!! I'm sorry, Daddy." The title comes through sobs.

Toji grins from ear to ear, wiping your tears with his calloused fingers. "Good girl," he kisses your forehead as you adjust to his girthy length. "So fuckin' pretty fr' Daddy." He takes your lips with his soft ones before moving his hips in a slow yet rough rhythm.

The mating press has your body submit to him, taking in his cock as it sinks deep into your swollen core. And it only gets worse when his pace gets faster, hitting your sweet spots accurately. At this rate, you're bound to cum earlier than necessary.

Then you feel his tip abruptly touch your cervix, and the wail you let out is picked up by Toji's ears. "Oh? Think I found what I was lookin' for." His hips grind deep in you, his tip abusing your poor cervix to the point you speak in tongues. "Feelin' good, princess?"

"Fuck, Daddyyyy, please, I'm-Ahaaah, Ohhh!" His irrational pace has your brain turning to mush, his cock bullying your insides. The sound of his balls slapping against your squelching folds has you squeezing him harder. "I'm gonna cu-cumm!!"

Toji hisses into your ear, the tone of his voice dominating your senses. "Oooooh, don't grip on me like that, sweetie. Gonna end up — Mmmph! Shit, shit, shit, shit...Gonna give you a baby."

You reach to cup his face through watery eyes glazed in a haze. "Please, Daddy, I want it," You know you're talking nonsense, but why care when you're feeling this fucking good. "Inside, I want it, inside!"

"Heh, be careful with what you wish for, mama." He kisses you again as his hips become erratic, and he moves a hand to your clit and pinches it, whining into your mouth when you're cunt clutches onto him one final time.

You cum around his cock and push your head back on the pillows, your gushy walls spasming around his length, prompting Toji to cum inside you after a few more thrusts. You two moan into each other's mouths, riding each other's high until your bodies calm down.

The two of you pant heavily once the kiss is broken apart, and his deep emerald orbs take in your dazed expression. He smiles when he notices drool on the side of your mouth, using a thumb to wipe it off for you.

"My sweet darlin'," Toji kisses your cheek and sighs deeply into your embrace. "You're too good fr' me, baby."

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

"Did I say that I want your babies?"

You're resting with Toji, your head relaxed on his chest as you sit between his legs. The television in the bedroom plays an episode of a sitcom, anything for you two to look at and enjoy a moment of peace together.

He snickers at your question, his chest rising and falling as you lay on him feels nice. "Yeah, you kinda did."

"Wow, that sex must've screwed something up in my head."

"Yeah, my dick had you wanting to risk it all." He snorts when you playfully hit his arm. "Don't worry, we can find some plan b in the morning."

Turning to face Toji, still watching TV, you furrow your brows. "We? What about work?"

"I have tomorrow off. It's your last day, and I don't feel like going back to work, or else I'll be sour all fuckin day. Much rather spend it with you than with some morons."

You look at Toji for a little longer before you smile and kiss his cheek, catching the older man off guard as you nestle into his warm body. "Thank you, Toji. For everything."

The thanks carry a deeper meaning. Not a single ounce of doubt clouds your mind now that you've gotten the closure you wanted. Thinking about how your life brought you to this moment, you're happy with your decision to pursue this relationship and more. And it's thanks to this man for making it possible.

Toji still stares at you before he scoffs and kisses your temple.

"No problem, kiddo."

4K notes · View notes

subbmissivesuccubus · 5 months

Text

No secrets around here ~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you all so much for 1K followers <3 <3 <3 I am undeserving but very appreciative. I am working on Bully Part 3 but please have this one shot as a token of my love.

It's a story suggested by my patron! If you'd like to suggest prompts for me to write, please consider checking out my patreon (link in bio) <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summary : Satoru and Suguru find out that their sweet, seemingly innocent girlfriend writes smutty fanfiction. They decide to make her fantasies come true while also making sure to teach her that keeping secrets from them have consequences <3

Contains : Fem reader. Established relationship. Degradation. Threesome M/M/F. Gojo and Geto being mean but with love. A bit meta.

“Dude- Suguru- SUGURU!”

“Stop yelling, Satoru.” The raven-haired man whined, rubbing a hand over his face as he was barely awake, “You better be dying if you’re calling me at 3 in the morning.”

“Oh, trust me, you’ll wanna hear what I say.”

“Get to the point.”

“Ok, so you know how every time we visit our cutie, she’s super protective of her phone?”

“…Yeah.”

“And how she immediately shuts her laptop close if we walk in?”

“…Yeah.”

“I found out why. I just sent you a link.”

Satoru hung up and Suguru groaned, looking his phone annoyance before the ding of a message received rang out. He raised an eyebrow as he read the message, the link opening upto a website called…tumblr? He was aware of the site but it never interested him enough to truly put any effort into finding out more about it. He also knew of the concept of fanfiction (thanks to a certain someone) and knew that Tumblr had a lot of creators posting their fanmade content.

But he had no idea it was…something like this.

Reader is being a brat and gets put in her place – Fem Reader X Demon Slayer men.

Where the men of One-Piece love to cum <3

Dick headcannons, a.k.a. who among the Honkai men are packing~

Suguru scoffed as he scrolled down the posts, surprised at how lewd this author was. Their writing was filthy and degenerate yet written fairly well. If he wasn’t so sleepy, Suguru was sure he could jerk off to a story or two. The comments under the posts were just as feral, people going crazy over the fanfictions, often proclaiming their desire to be with these…fictional men? He didn’t quite understand it but who was he to judge.

He paused as he read the title of a post, letting out a hum as the title hit a bit close to home.

Reader gets pounded roughly by her two boyfriends.

It was a post with thousands of notes which got Suguru curious. He clicked on the tag labelled #two boyfriends and was surprised to see several stories written by the author of the reader having two lovers and their sexual escapades together:

Reader gets both her holes stuffed with cock. Or the two boyfriends compete to see who can get her to squirt first. Reader is spanked silly and can’t sit properly for days. As punishment, the two boyfriends overstimulate the reader for hours, making her cum over and over again even as she begged them to stop.

The list went on and on and on, making the blood rush to Suguru’s cheeks at how raw and filthy and…desperate these fanfictions were.

His phone dinged, a message from Satoru which reminded the black-haired man of how he wound up here to begin with. So there are some smutty fiction online, but what does it have to do with you? He could only come up with one conclusion but…that couldn’t be it. Right?

Satoru <3 : Did you see all the two boyfriends fics?

Me : Yeah. You’re not saying that…she wrote all of this, are you?

Suguru waited with bated breath as the three dots danced on his screen, Satoru typing out the answer. You were someone who refused to even curse in daily conversation! There was no way… He choked as he got a response, Satoru simply saying:

What do you say we show our baby how much better her real boyfriends are?

~~~~~

“Boys!” you whined as Suguru and Satoru stuck close to you, one on either side, “I’m trying to cook here!” “We’re not stopping you!” Satoru said with a pout as he placed his cheek on top of your hair, “We just wanna be close to our baby. Is that so bad?” “Exactly.” Suguru purred as a hand came up to wrap around your waist, pressing himself close to you, “Is loving you such a crime?”

You rolled your eyes at their theatrics. One thing worse than having one dramatic boyfriend would be having two. Not that you were complaining, of course. How on Earth could you be upset over having the two most powerful sorcerers be your lovers? It sometimes felt like a dream- that these two had fallen in love with you and were over by your place for a domestic night of homecooked food and movies. They were more clingy than usual, a hand or lips always on your body at all times. You caught them exchanging glances with each other once in awhile but you simply ignored it. It wasn’t the first time your men had this telepathic communication going on between them. As long as they weren’t planning on pranking you, you decided to simply focus on the meal you were cooking.

“So, babe,” Satoru purred as he placed a kiss to the crown of your head, “You’re on Tumblr a lot, right?”

You scoffed, “You know I am. Why’d you ask? You finally wanna join?”

“I sure do!” he responded, “And if you had told me about all the porn that was on that website, I would have joined sooner.”

“Porn?” you repeated, confused, “What are you talking about? It doesn’t allow-”

“All of that smutty fanfiction- I was up all night reading them!”

You froze, hoping that the two of them didn’t notice. “Oh, uh, yeah there’s a lot of that.”

“And, you know, we found this…writer.” Suguru said, his voice dripping like honey as his hand ran up and down your waist, “Who writes the most…filthy things. Degradation, spankings, brat taming, not to mention threesomes between two men and a woman. Kind of similar to us, right?”

You gulped, trying to focus on your food even though your mind was running a mile. Did they know? How did they find out? You were so careful of your things! You always made sure to have an eye on your phone and laptop so how did they…

“Well, only the threesome parts.” Satoru said, “We’re not nearly as kinky as the people in those stories. We could be, of course, but we wouldn’t want to scare our baby with how…intense we can be, right?”

“Of course.” Suguru purred, leaning forward to kiss your temple, his lips soft against your skin, “Our sweet princess is so innocent and vanilla. How on Earth can we treat her like the girls in those smutty, dirty stories? We have to make love to her like the Queen she is. There’s no way our baby would like to be punished or have her pussy filled until she’s bred.”

“Exactly.” Satoru said, noting the way your breathing was quickening, smiling as he saw your ears turn red, “Unless…there’s something she’s not telling us.” You gasped as his hand trailed down your back, making you shiver before it landed on your ass. You mewled as he grabbed a cheek harshly, his fingers digging into your plush skin, both of them so close to you that you could feel their hot breath against your burning face.

“So, sweetheart.” Suguru said, a twinkle in his eye as he turned off the heat of the stove, gently taking your utensils out of your hands, “Anything you’d like to share?”

You gulped, Satoru squeezing you greedily and making it difficult for you to form sentences, “H-How did you find out?”

“Well, I might have peeked at your phone when you left it unlocked yesterday.” Satoru confessed, “I wasn’t planning on looking but when I saw the notification of someone begging you to write more of your threesome content, well, curiosity got the better of me.”

“Our baby has such naughty fantasies,” Suguru said, not giving you a chance to respond “But she kept it all to herself like a bad little girl. Why didn’t you tell us?” he leaned down to nibble at your ear, loving the cute yelp you let out, “Did you think we’d judge you?”

“I- I don’t know…” you mumbled, face so red it felt like steam was coming out your ears, “It’s…embarrassing- ah!” Suguru moved downwards and kissed your neck, his teeth digging into the sensitive patch of your skin, making you cry out loud. Satoru pouted before he let go of your ass, only to swing his hand down and give your butt a sharp slap, making you yell loudly.

“We could have been fucking you like the dirty slut you are, but instead, we held ourselves back because we didn’t want to scare you off.” Satoru growled, his hand making its way to your hair, grabbing a handful before he pulled harshly. You gasped as your head was tossed back, your boyfriends face looking down on you as his grip on your hair continued to be tight and unforgiving.

“Every time we fuck you- we’ve wanted to go wild.” Suguru confessed, his large hand slipping into your shirt, making you shiver as he touched your bare skin, “So next time, just be honest and save us the trouble, hmm?”

“You’re going to make it up to us.” Satoru said, leaning down to kiss your lips, a quick peck before he pulled away, a dark look in his eyes, “Get ready. We’re making those fantasies come true.”

~~~~~

Your hands trembled, instinctively tugging at the handcuffs that held you tight against the headboard. The cool metal dug into your skin, showing no signs of letting up. Hands handcuffed above your bed, naked as the day you were born, you were at the mercy of your two men and they made sure of that.

Suguru giggled at your cute little yelp as he increased the speed of the vibrator, his grip of the wand tightening before he pressed it down harder on your clit. You screamed around Satoru’s cock, the man’s dick shoved down your throat, making you gag. He was practically straddling your head, knees on either side of your shoulders while Suguru sat between your spread legs, their eyes greedily taking in your nakedness.

“Yeah? You like that?” Satoru asked, looking down at you with a teasing grin on his face, sweat dripping down his brow. He was naked, veins throbbing in his arms as he gripped onto the headboard tightly, rolling his hips into your face, groaning at the sensation of you trying your best to take his fat dick. “You like that vibrator on your slutty little pussy, don’t you? Hmm? Like having my cock down your throat?” he asked, pausing his thrusting for a second to fully press his cock deep inside you, laughing as he felt you gag loudly around him.

“Oh, she loves it~” Suguru purred, dick aching in his boxers (wearing nothing but his underwear) as he ground the wand vibrator against you, mercilessly attacking your clit, “Her cunt is dripping~”

“Poor baby~ You must be so pent up since we’ve been making love to you like you were a princess. Guess we have to fuck you like a whore, hmm?” Satoru asked, biting his lower lip as he started thrusting into your mouth again. His muscles tensed, tossing his head back to moan as your sweet little tongue lapped at the underside of his cock, his heavy balls pressing against your chin every time he thrust.

“Stay. Still.” Suguru said with a click of his tongue as one arm gripped onto your knee tightly, the other still torturing you with the vibrator, “Keep moving your legs like that and I’ll punish you.”

You whined, your sounds taken by Satoru’s member, your body getting overstimulated. With a fat cock down your throat and Suguru playing with your pussy, you couldn’t help but start trembling, trying to push your legs together to give yourself a break from the onslaught on your cunt- but Suguru was having none of that.

He ignored your yelp as he pulled the vibrator away, taking away your pleasure so suddenly. But you barely had time to process that as he raised his hand and brought it down on your pussy, giving it a harsh, tight slap. You screamed from the pain, the vibrations of your mouth making Satoru moan as Suguru started spanking your pussy again and again. Slap after slap rained down on your cunt, the raven-haired man holding one leg tightly by the ankle while pushing away the other with his knee, truly keeping you spread as he spanked your pussy.

Your whole body writhed from the pain, the stinging sensation of Suguru marking your puffy pussy lips red. Your hands struggled against the handcuffs even more, your torso tossing and turning, Satoru giving you some mercy as he gently pulled his cock out of your mouth.

“Sorry! Fuck- I’m sorry- I’m sorry!” you pleaded through your gasps and coughs, and crying as Suguru slapped your cunt so hard it made you dizzy for a second, “Please- no more!”.

“No more what?”

“No more spankings- P-Please! Please don’t s-spank my p-pussy!” you begged, ears turning red from the embarrassment. You heard Satoru giggle above you, the man clearly more sadistic than you ever imagined as he tugged at his member, enjoying the scene of his best friend breaking you down perfectly. Even him touching himself right in front of you was torturous, your eyes homing in on the precum dripping out of his red tip, his cock covered in your saliva.

“I thought you liked it, baby.” Suguru said, taking some mercy on you as he gently rubbed your cunt, easing some of the burn, “Your characters get their pussy’s spanked so often. Don’t you feel bad for them if it hurts so much?”

“I didn’t- I didn’t know.” You sobbed, “It hurts- fuck- but it hurts so good!”

“Fuuuck Baby!” Satoru groaned, gripping the base of his cock tightly, his face red and excited, “Almost came from that~ I love seeing you look so pathetic for us.”

You whimpered, turning your face to feel Satoru’s warmth as he gently wiped a tear away from your eye. Suguru chuckled, leaning down to place a kiss to your cunt, your skin hot against his lips. Your back arched as he ran his tongue up your pussy, the man groaning as he tasted your slick, drinking you down like a drug.

“Oh~ I want a taste of that pussy too~” Satoru purred before he changed his position. Your eyes widened as he turned around, adjusting himself so his cock was once again over your face only now, he was facing your pussy in a classic 69. “Open up, princess.” He said, smirking as he pushed his cock into your mouth just as you opened your lips, “Suck my cock while we- oh yeah- play with this pussy~”

Satoru grabbed the back of your thighs, holding onto you tightly as he dipped his head between your legs, Suguru moving out of the way so his friend could mouth at your pussy. You squealed around his cock, the man already starting to thrust as he wrapped his lips around your clit before he sucked harshly. “Mmmph- fuck yes~” he moaned, lightly picking up the pace as he once again started fucking your throat, “This pussy is so fucking tasty~”

He opened his mouth wide and started flicking his tongue on your clit, letting out a lewd sound as he tortured your sensitive bud with his tongue. Not one to sit idly by, Suguru allowed his friend to tongue your cunt while he gently slid a finger inside you.

“Look at that. My finger went in so easily, baby.” Suguru said as he gently thrust the finger in and out of you, “This isn’t enough for you, is it?”

You whined around Satoru’s cock, unable to respond. But they understood. Suguru slid a second finger inside you, the slick sound of your cunt parting for him echoing through the air lewdly. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he curled his fingers inside you just right, pussy gushing from the sensation. Satoru was still licking at your clit, giving your bud the occasional nibble to keep you on edge.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” Suguru asked as he watched Satoru lick you up, his own fingers drenched, your juices dripping down, “Cock in your mouth as we play with your pussy like you’re our little toy~ Our sweet little fuck toy we can use?”

Your toes curled and your muscles tensed, opening your throat up as much as possible as Satoru mercilessly face fucked you, his balls slapping against you as he chased his pleasure. The metal of the handcuffs dug into your skin, your fingers clenching around nothing as you were driven closer and closer to your orgasm.

You were so close you could taste it, your mind descending into nothing but pleasure, the two men perfectly breaking you down into the slut they know you are. You fantasised about them as you wrote your fanfiction and for it to actually be coming true- you didn’t know how to handle it.

You were so close- so close! Your body tightened and your pussy clenched around Suguru’s fingers, the familiar sensation of an orgasm making itself known. You already knew this would be one of the strongest climaxes you’d experience and it almost scared you. But you were ready. You wanted this. You needed this. You needed them!

Your moans picked up the pace, getting louder and louder around Satoru’s cock, still obediently sucking him off as your body trembled. You were gonna cum! Cumming- cumming-

Only for them to stop.

You let out a scream as Satoru pulled his cock out of your mouth, both of them able to hear your shouts. You arched off the bed, your body trembling from the sudden absence of pleasure, your legs kicking at the mattress like a toddler as you writhed on the bed.

“Why? Why- I was so close- so close!” you sobbed, tugging at the handcuffs in a desperate attempt to touch yourself, only for it to be futile.

“Aww, poor princess.” Satoru cooed, kneeling over you still, his cock dripping your saliva back onto his face lewdly, “did you really think it would be that easy?”

“We’re going to edge you all night.” Suguru said, finally undoing his boxers before pushing it off, getting completely naked, “It’s your punishment for keeping your sluttiness a secret from us.”

You could barely muster up a protest as you were distracted by Suguru’s cock. His cock was just as beautiful as Satoru’s- long, thick and oh so delicious. He took your breath away everytime he got inside you, his skills rendering you a whining mess.

“If you try and cum without us knowing,” Suguru said, knowing your body like the back of your hand and well aware that you were close to your orgasm, “You’re going to be in a world of pain. Now come on. Beg for it.” He started teasingly slapping your pussy with his member, each strike making you twitch, “You know how to beg, right? Your characters beg so sweetly in your stories- I’m sure you can do it too~”

You gulped, mouth drooling and pussy trembling, their hard cocks right in front of you but refusing to get inside you. “P-Please.” You pleaded, feeling a rush of shame overcome you by uttering the word. “Do better than that.” Suguru said, his hand now on his member and lightly stroking it, showing you what you were missing out on. “I- Fuck- I need you! Both of you!” you said desperately. “Keep going~” Satoru purred, his tip just a hairs breath away from your lips, also close to orgasm, “what do you need?” “I need- fuck- I need your c-cocks!” you begged, tears in your eyes as you shamelessly conveyed your desires, “I need you inside me- I need you to fuck me!” “Good girl.” Suguru said, groaning as he finally- finally- started to push inside you, “And remember. No cumming.”

You tossed your head back, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Suguru started spreading you apart, inch after inch burying into your sopping cunt. It was a delicious sensation, his cock stretching you out wonderfully, his thick cock giving you a nice burn. Suguru hissed as his dick was enveloped in your tight wetness, the texture of your pussy walls hugging it perfectly. His balls clenched and he knew he wouldn’t last long- the feeling of finally being able to treat you like the kinky slut you were driving him to the edge. They don’t call him a pleasure dom for nothing.

Without even saying anything, Satoru took advantage of your open mouth to jam his dick back inside your mouth, laughing at the surprised yelp and loud gag you let out. “I’m close baby~” he moaned as he was surrounded by your addicting heat again, “Make sure you drink it all when I cum down this slutty mouth pussy~”

They both started to fuck you mercilessly at once. And all you could do was lie there and take it. Suguru made you wrap your legs against his waist, leaning into you as he started pounding your cunt, balls slapping against you each time he thrust into you. Your pussy was so wet and hot- the sensation like a drug as he pounded you, his cock slamming against your cervix with each thrust.

“Fuck- I love this fucking pussy!” he groaned, tossing his head back as he mercilessly pounded you, chasing his pleasure, “So perfect for us- so greedy and desperate- want to fucking ruin you!”

“Mmm~ I can’t wait to fuck this slutty cunt~” Satoru said between moans, fucking down on your mouth as a hand came up to spread apart your pussy lips, giving him a perfect view of Suguru fucking your hole. “Pass me the vibrator, will you?”

You yelped, knowing exactly what he had planned as Satoru got a hold of the vibrator, switched it on before he placed it against your clit. You screamed around his cock, body thrashing at the overstimulation. The toy rubbed against your clit, the speed on the highest setting, making your vision blurry as he assaulted your sensitive bud.

“Fuck- oh yeah- that’s fucking great!” Suguru moaned, the vibration of the toy giving him added pleasure as well, “she tightened around me so much- fuck- slutty little pussy!”

You were in heaven and hell. The two men were using you in such a filthy fashion, making your body tremble from the intense pleasure. Suguru was fucking you so perfectly, his cock hitting your g-spot every time he thrust into you, your pleasure heightened by Satoru playing with your clit. He’d use the toy or sometimes even lean down to lick at your clit again, his hair brushing against Suguru’s abdomen every time he thrust forward. They were both so desperate and horny for you and it was amazing.

But, every time you were close, they’d stop.

You didn’t even need to say it- your moans and your body language was enough for them to know when you were about to cum and every time, without fail, they’d ruin your orgasm. Suguru would pull out and Satoru would stop playing with your clit, opting to slap your pussy and call it a ‘bad cunt’ as he took your climax away from you. Suguru once pinched your clit so harshly you swore you blacked out. Once they thought you weren’t going to cum, they’d get back into it.

“Oh baby!” Satoru moaned, finally reaching his climax. He forgoed the toy and instead focused on fucking your face, wanting to cum, “I’m close! Yes! Yes! Oh you naughty little minx! We’re going to have so much fucking fun with you!”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you got pounded from both ends- your jaw beyond sore. With a few more thrusts, Satoru finally came. He tossed his head back and moaned loudly, his cock lodged as deep as it could go inside you. He started to cum down your throat, giving you no choice but to drink it all up. You could feel his balls clench against you as he came, his hot seed pouring down your throat, warming you up from the inside.

“Ohhh yesss!” Satoru moaned, his body shuddering as he gently thrust his hips, milking his balls of every drop, “That’s it- oh yes~ That’s a good slut~”

You gagged around him, struggling to breathe and to drink down his cum, happy to have given him pleasure but distracted by Suguru still pounding into you. You were waiting for Satoru to get off of you and give your jaw some peace but…

He once again got his face close to your pussy, resting his elbows on the mattress and his chin on his hands as he stared like a pervert as Suguru fucking your cunt.

“Enjoying the show?” Suguru asked with a laugh, his body running a bit hotter at Satoru staring.

“Mmhmm,” Satoru said with a smile before he addressed you, “Keep cockwarming me, baby. Get me hard again so I can fuck this pussy next~”

Oh. Oh God.

“Fuck- I’m close!” Suguru groaned through gritted teeth, “And she’s close too- I can feel it!”

“Yeah?” Satoru asked, rolling his hips in a circle as he leisurely enjoyed your mouth like it was a fleshlight, “Should we let her cum? She’s been such a good girl for us.”

You whined around him, feeling like this entire night was you whining, trying your best to beg around Satoru’s cock in your mouth. You could feel him grow harder inside you, the sadist loving the fact that he made you so pathetic.

“Nah.” Suguru said, sweating as he pounded you mercilessly, “Not yet.”

“You hear that, baby?” Satoru asked, “You better not cum~”

You sobbed, tears pouring down your cheeks as they decided to continue torturing you.

“You gonna cum inside her?” Satoru asked his friend, knowing him well enough to know he was about to cum. “Fuck- I want to so fucking badly but- I don’t think she deserves it yet!” “Awww, the poor thing. She has such a huge breeding kink too!” “I know. Fuck- I’d love to dump inside this cunt and breed her but- fuck- I still think she needs to learn her lesson! Naughty little sluts who keep things from their boyfriends gets fucking punished! Oh fuck- yes- cumming- I’m cumming!”

With a shout, once again denying you your orgasm, Suguru quickly pulled out of you with the intention of finishing on you. “Fuck- Satoru!” Suguru moaned as the white haired man suddenly grabbed his member and started jerking him off. Satoru laughed at Suguru’s moans, his hand almost a blur as he jacked off his best friend, aiming the tip right at your pussy. In a matter of seconds, Suguru let out a loud moan as he came, tossing his head back as the pleasure hit him like a truck. He trembled as ropes and ropes of cum shot out of his cock, his balls clenching with each pump as he came all over your pussy. He stained your cunt white, making you whine as all of that cum wasn’t pumped inside you.

“Oh~ Look at all that cum on this pretty pussy~” Satoru moaned, letting go of Suguru to instead pet at your pussy, his fingers rubbing the cum into your skin before he collected a bit of it on his fingers to shove inside you. You gasped, body still on edge, your mind a mess of pleasure and humiliation as Satoru stuffed his friends cum into your pussy. He took some mercy on you and pulled his cock out of your mouth, enjoying your gasps and moans as you took in deep breaths, choking on your own spit as he got off of you.

“Please!” you begged, crying and you voice hoarse, “Please- Please let me cum! I need it! I’ll do anything!”

“Shhhh, relax, princess.” Suguru cooed as he and Satoru switched places, the white haired man settling between your legs with his cock hard once more, eager to fuck your cunt. You whimpered and cried as Suguru lied down next to you, his dick still hard and ready for more as he leaned down to kiss you, a sweet moment among all the depravity.

His hand gripped a breast, squeezing your boob as he kissed you, slipping his tongue into your mouth and making your body tingle from the sensation. He finally parted just as Satoru slipped his dick inside you, smiling as he watched your eyes water and your jaw drop from the sensation.

“Don’t start crying already, baby.” Suguru said, watching as your body started to bounce up and down from Satoru’s thrusts, Satoru immediately fucking you in a fast pace, “We’ve only just begun~”

#subby writes #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo x reader x geto #gojo #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu gojo #gojo smut #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen geto smut #geto suguru smut #jujutsu geto #geto x reader #geto suguru #geto smut

1K notes · View notes

ivymarquis · 11 months

Note

I would go nuts if you do something for Ghost! Make it filthy ? based on your f list , how about a combo of : chubby with size difference, breath play, breeding, light bondage, orgasm control and heavy aftercare? Or make it light , how about a combo of : chubby with size difference, oral , begging, slow burn, multiple orgasms and ofc heavy aftercare?

I really hope I didn’t go too far with this lmao

Hit all the notes except the slow burn, dealer’s choice on if this is a “no pregnancy, only breed” situation for kink purposes, or if Simon fully intends on following through with getting the reader pregnant 😇

Spoiled

Pairing| Ghost x F!Reader Rating| M Word Count| 3.5k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Breeding kink, orgasm control, breath play, squirting, overstimulation, acknowledgement of (but no use of) safewords, size difference, bondage, oral (f!receiving) possessive/simp!Simon, plus size!Reader, multiple orgasms, Simon is a touch mean at times but it’s all above board, and aftercare (or at least the plans of what the aftercare will be lol). I think that covers everything!

You’re wearing his favorite dress and Ghost is ready to climb out of his own skin.

Any other situation would have him pinning you on your back, the skirt of your dress pulled up while he pounds you into the nearest surface he can lay you out across.

However you work underneath Laswell which means he gets to watch the hem of your skirt dance across the skin of your thighs during a meeting he is rapidly losing all interest in.

He’s also not the only one looking which raises his hackles. The rest of the 141 are minding their business, eyes on Laswell up front. They know who you belong to, and have the self control to not slobber all over themselves like rabid dogs at the sight of a pretty girl.

It’s the other men in the room.

He can’t blame them; You’re bright eyed and sweet, pretty face with a plush body that Ghost loves tying up in whatever position he can think to put you in. And the fucking dress doesn’t help.

It is work appropriate. There’s a part of him that is willing to acknowledge that. It just flatters you perfectly. And the hem bounces enough to give a mouth watering peek at the insides of your thighs when you’re walking away from him.

Whether you’re oblivious to the eyes on you or you simply don’t care enough to acknowledge them, every time Ghost’s gaze settles on you your attention is fixated on him when not pointed at Laswell.

He’s suddenly seized by the thought that the ring on your finger clearly isn’t enough of a deterrent for unwanted gazes. You’re baiting him, heedless of the others drawn to you.

Sure she’s married but is she satisfied? He knows damn good and well some of the men- some of the specific ones in this room- are dogs. He can hear the question as they pace and look for a weak spot to dig under the proverbial fence.

He needs to make sure everyone knows you’re his. Clearly it’s not enough to show you’re taken.

His mind wanders, thoughts of filling you with him until you’re swollen with child. The evidence readily apparent to everyone that you’re kept satisfied by your husband.

The only thing that keeps his mind from spiraling completely is a well timed prompt from Price, forcing Ghost out of his head and back to the meeting he wants over and done with already.

Once home, Simon is able to drop the mantle of Ghost- at least for the time being- and turn his attention to you.

It really is his favorite dress on you, but it looks substantially better on the floor.

He’s got you laid across your bed, hands cuffed short to the headboard.

You always were handsy in bed. Wanting to pet and stroke and touch- it’s cute how you squirm for him once he deprives you.

“Si- Simon!” His name is a plea as his tongue goes to work between your legs.

He should be used to the sight and sounds that accompany having you bare before him. God knows the two of you have been together long enough for that- and yet every time he gets you to drop your panties his blood sings in his veins like the first time.

He’s fucking enthralled with you. Your smile, your laugh, how quick you are with a witty retort- always the smart ass until he reminds you there’s a better use for that pretty mouth. How easy it was to manhandle you in bed (how you fucking love it).

He adores how soft you are. Lush thighs spread over either shoulder as he goes down on you like a man who’s been stranded in the desert. One hand digging into the flesh of your hip, the other banded across your belly to keep you still as you buck in his hold.

He’s being a mean bastard, he knows. The pair of you have your little arrangement.

“Simon- please!” Your body strains against the cuffs uselessly. If your hands were free you’d be scrambling for purchase where you could find it- burying in his hair, fisting the sheets beneath you. Flicking his gaze up to your bound hands, he grins seeing how your fingers open and close in fists- needing to hold and touch and not being able to.

“Gotta wait for me, love,” he reminds you.

Simon controls your orgasms. Where you cum, when you cum, how you cum and most importantly if you cum.

Usually he’s magnanimous about it. Arguably he still is. If he really wanted to be an asshole about it, he’d be stuffing you with two of his fingers- the width of three of your own- and stroking that spot that had your body burning, eyes rolling into the back of your head while you cried and made a mess for him. Forcing you to fight yourself, to show a little impulse control, reveling in how you squeal and buck against him in protest.

Those soft thighs are trembling like leaves atop either one of his shoulders, splayed open enticingly.

“Pleasepleaseplease.”

He struggles to pull himself away, reveling in how tightly you’re wound. Simon could easily spend hours between your legs.

When initially cuffing you to the bed, his plan was to not let you finish until after he’d cum in you. Wanted to be mean about it, could hear you crying for him to finish you off. No point in getting you off, love, until I’ve filled that pretty little cunt to the brim. Whole lot of effort for nothing if I do it before, isn’t that right?

Simon spoils you rotten though and only has himself to blame for it at this point. Any time he manages to get you laid out before him it is a guarantee he’ll finish you off at least twice.

Hell it’s practically a necessity, the only thing stopping him from proceeding with his initial plan. Your body would choke down on him, usually needing to be fucked open with his mouth and fingers before being able to take the length of him without protest.

You’re squirming again. The break from his tongue lashing against your clit allows you to regain some composure but still twitching in anticipation.

Not that your respite lasts for long. Simon trails one of his fingers across the seam of your lower lips, watching how your legs jerk on impulse as his touch ghosts across your swollen clit.

“So sensitive,” he teases as you let out a plaintive whine at the contact.

His middle finger slips past your folds, sliding easily all the way to the 3rd knuckle. Giving a few slow thrusts, his ring finger soon joins.

The room is quiet except for the sound of your breaths and how absolutely wet you are. It’s filthy how his fingers squelch inside your cunt. Your moans pick up as he deliberately drags the pads of his fingers across that spongy spot inside of you.

Your brain seems to only be able to remember two words- “Simon” and “please”, chanting them as he works you closer to the edge.

“Be a good girl for me,” he answers cryptically, biting back a laugh at the tortured look on your face. Be a good girl and cum? Or be a good girl and don’t cum?

The hand not buried in your cunt trails up your body- amusement flickering across his face as you jolt from ticklish spots, his hand roaming up your belly, between your breasts and taking its place wrapped around your throat.

Your brain remembers three more words, the alternating chants broken by your accusatory “You’re being mean,”

He is. He’s done worse to you for sure, but he knows the accusation is also another plea. I don’t know how much longer I can hold back please let me cum and call me a good girl- I want to be good.

“You ever consider you’re a spoiled little princess?” He muses to you, lips hovering over your own as he awaits the smart assed retort he just knows-

“It’s your fault I’m like this,” there it is. He grins, giving a chaste peck that is wildly juxtaposed to the sinful things he’s doing to you.

The hand wrapped around your throat tightens. Not enough to damage your delicate wind pipe but enough to put the pressure on the blood vessels in your neck. He adjusts his other hand ever so slightly so his thumb can press against your clit, circling in firm movements in time as his ring and middle fingers work that one spot inside of you.

He gets the desired result- you clenching on his fingers, bucking and squirming uselessly.

“Sorry, what was that?” He asks with a falsely sweet tone, grinning as you hiss.

All the pressure from his hand is placed on the sides of your neck, your pleas and protests turning into mindless babbling.

Simon isn’t entirely without mercy, he just enjoys pushing you as close to the brink as he can.

“Come on then, love- cum for me.” He finally allows, watching with rapt attention as your eyes damn near cross.

His wrist and forearm are wet as you gush around his hand, grinning as your mess is timed with each thrust of his fingers. He doesn’t withdraw until he’s certain he’s wrung every last drop from you, although you’re not left unattended for long.

His grip on your neck lets up, doubly to let you recover from your orgasm as you gasp like a stranded fish as much as it is to have both hands free to position you how he wants.

Mindful that there’s not much slack to pull you down with, Simon holds you steady while he moves to place himself between your legs.

Your flesh is hot, swollen and needy as he lines himself up, one hand on your hip and the other grasping his length. Pliant as you are from your orgasm, it still takes a few thrusts to work you open enough to take the full length of him.

Simon is more than willing to feed you inch by inch of his cock, relishing in the wet suction of your body as you cling and clench around him.

“That feel good, pretty?” He poses the question to you as his hips clap against yours once you’re warmed up and taking him all the way to the base.

“Yes! Simon- yes!”

And what a fucking sight you make. Laid on your back, arms stretching over your head towards the headboard. Those pretty, plush thighs spread wide to accommodate him, giving Simon quite the show- watching as he buries himself in you to the hilt over and over and over again.

He damn near wants to drool watching how your body bounces from the recoil of each snap of his hips. Makes his mouth water- makes him want to turn you into a fucking chew toy, the need to bury his teeth in your soft flesh. His eyes will flick from one part of you to the next, reveling in the soft bounce of your thighs, your belly, your breasts- he couldn’t pry his gaze away, enraptured with the doe eyed, fucked-dumb look on your face when his eyes drift up high enough.

“Whose cunt is this?”

The answer to the question is obvious, and one you know well. It’s not even really the actual question he has- more the lead up than anything else.

“Yours!” He shifts himself slightly, the change in angle working for you based on how you bark out “Oh! Right there!”

Simon grinned, knowing full well what he's doing as he moves to his original position. “You gonna prove it, love?”

Your head must be swimming from the delayed response- frustrated at him for deliberately ignoring your plea and changing the rhythm on purpose.

“Prove it?” Those glassy eyes focus on him, the words sounded out slowly by your cock drunk brain.

“Prove this cunt’s mine,” a sharp thrust elicits a yelp that’s just shy of, but nearing the border of too much. “Oughta fuck a baby into you. Show everyone you belong to me.”

The way you clench down on him draws a grunt deep from his chest, telling him just what you think of that idea.

“Everyone’ll know what a good fucking girl you are,” he’s working himself up, winding tighter and tighter as his mind runs away from him entirely. “Lifting your” he staggers as your clench is timed perfectly with his thrust “-fucking skirt for me,” a few more quick thrusts, “spreading those gorgeous thighs,” his hands are gripping your waist like a lifeline- “letting me have my way with you and not- wasting- a- fucking- drop.” his last words punctuated with strong snaps of his hips.

He’s babbling now, face buried in the crook of your neck as each thrust draws staccato cries from you. “Gonna look so fucking pretty- not gonna be able to take my damn hands off of you,” which was saying something given the current rate he was either bending you over or tying you up.

You clenching around him like a vice wasn’t helping matters either. “Simon please- I want it. Baby I want it. Please cum in me-“ and how was he ever going to ignore a request like that? With you asking so nicely while your cunt works its magic on his cock.

His body dwarfs yours, all broad shoulders and delicious muscling from years of training and physical work that comes with the job. You’re caged under him as he raises his head from your neck and his mouth crashes into yours.

“Mine,” he groans out between kisses. There’s going to be bruises across your body as his grip tightens on you- one hand still fisting the flesh of your hip, the other hooking underneath one of your knees and spreading that leg out to the side, fingers digging into the skin of your thigh as you both grunt at the change in angle.

The noises the two of you are making are absolutely obscene; the slap of his heavy balls against your ass, the wet sound of your cunt taking every last inch of him. Simon’s damn near on the verge of hyperventilating, keyed up as he is between you being as receptive as you’ve been to his dirty talk, reciprocating by pleading him to cum in you. How your thighs are trembling, muscles wound tight as you strain against your binds.

He prides himself on not being a selfish lover. Even as worked up as he is, the forefront thought in his mind chasing his own pleasure so he can be a good husband and fill you up like you’re pleading for so so prettily- there’s still that one part that keys into your reactions. Making sure you’re loving every stroke he gives as he chases his own high, that those yelps don’t take a turn for too much instead of please god don’t stop don’t stop don-

His vision whites out for a second as his orgasm hits him like a bus. The coil that had been twisting tighter and tighter springs free as he buries himself in you one last time with a groan befitting a wounded animal.

The urge to collapse settles on him, but Ghost pushes it aside. You’re tied to the bed, entirely unable to take the brunt of his weight like that and wouldn’t be able to wiggle out from under him with your hands bound.

He grounds himself as he comes down by peppering you in kisses, hands roaming your body. Your face, your neck- anywhere he can reach until he feels his legs are steady enough to comply with what he asks of them.

You’re still keyed up, having been worked close to a second orgasm but not quite getting to cross the threshold before Simon. He can hear you distantly, mewling and pleading for him to finish you off and has every intention of following through.

Moving back down between your legs, a shiver runs up his spine as his over sensitive cock drags across the sheets. Settling with his face between your legs he takes a moment to observe his handwork.

Your cunt’s pretty and swollen- sensitive to, from how you jerk when his breath fans against you. Making soothing motions on your hip with one hand as he shushes you, his eyes focus on the thin line of his spend dribbling out of you.

Well that simply won’t do.

He uses one finger to trace back up your folds, pushing his cum back exactly where it belongs before sliding two fingers into you once again.

It doesn’t escape his notice how much easier it is this time, your fucked open body still soft and pliant for him. He debates teasing you about it for a second but the look on your face has it clear you’re close to crying- tension and anticipation having tears welling up in your eyes.

Spoiled the thought flashes across his head. Course it doesn’t help that he’s utterly whipped. He’ll give you anything you ask for just because you want it.

His head drops, eyes on you while his tongue lashes as your clit and his fingers fuck his cum back into you.

You cry and strain and buck against his hold. Simon knows he won’t have to wait long to feel you clenching around his fingers- it never does when he uses his mouth and fingers at the same time.

But he does wonder how quick he can wring a third out of you once he pushes you over the second time.

He’ll find out shortly- you’re already babbling, knowing the routine and half afraid he’ll make you hold it please let me cum please-

“Go on, pet.” He doesn’t so much pry his face away as he just mouths into your flesh, but got the same result either way.

Your back arches as you clamp tight on his fingers- Simon doesn’t let that get in the way of his ministrations, continuing to mouth at your clit and stroke that spot in you until your cries of pleasure turn into okay okay okay oka-

He doesn’t stop. You try crawling away from him but he puts a stop to that by quickly banding his forearm across your abdomen.

You have a safeword- kettle- if it actually was too much, and unless he hears you say it he’s going to keep a hold of you like a dog being threatened with having his favorite toy taken from him.

You’re being fucking loud, no way the neighbors can’t hear you unless they’re simply not home, and Simon doesn’t give a singular shit as he works you from your second orgasm clear into your third.

His efforts are rewarded with another rush of your cum, soaking his face and dripping down his chin.

Good. He’s still fixated on the idea of you being fat with his child, and the way he sees it the more he gets you to cum the better his chances are of it taking.

Your efforts to squirm out of his grip only increase, futile as they are.

“One more,” he lifts his head to offer you. “Be a good girl and give me one more.”

Those tears that had welled earlier are falling now, and Simon thinks you look absolutely divine with tear tracks down your face, make up smeared to hell.

“Okay,” you nod with a shaky breath- hips still trembling but no longer trying to squirm away from him.

He descends on you once again, intending to make the most of your compliance. What a good little wife he has.

He’s got your fourth orgasm rushing over you in record time, relishing in the way you tense and relax as your body tries to fight the overstimulation before your mind would quiet it. His hand strokes your hip and thigh soothingly, mumbling praises into your skin the entire time.

True to his word, he pulls away once you’ve come down.

You’re watching him with glassy eyes, limbs trembling as you finally catch a reprieve from his mouth.

“I’ll untie you now, okay love?” He’s checking where you are mentally, if he pushed too far-

You nod to him, eyes following as he steps away from the bed to grab the keys off the nightstand.

Your wrists are released from the cuffs only to be encircled by Simon’s hands- so much bigger than your own- as he gently rubs them and checks for any marks. “You alright, love?”

The soft smile you flash him has him ready to melt. “I’m good,” he watches you stretch, the slight wince. “Shoulder’s a bit tight.”

“I’ll run us a bath and we’ll see what I can do about that hm? How about you think about what you want for take out?”

He starts to turn, tethered in place as you reach out for him.

“Don’t go yet.”

He lets you lead him back into bed with a light pull on his hand.

Absolutely spoiled rotten, and yet Simon will gladly give or do anything for you if only you ask for it.

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #cod mwii #my writing #simon riley #simon ghost riley

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tripleyeeet · 8 months

Text

FEAR OF LOSING IT (4)

SUMMARY: When it's discovered that Astarion's being hunted, you take matters into your own bloody hands.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 4,235

WARNINGS: Teasing, spoilers for BG3, canon typical violence, minor character death, pining if you squint a little, feelings realized!!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Day 4 is here! Prompt is "you're not scared, are you? Of Me?" So hopefully I did it justice?

Also sidenote, to anyone wanting to be on the taglist. I had a few issues tagging some people but I still put your name. Not sure why it won't let me tag so check your settings and next fic I'll try again.

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

The sun beams down as you walk along the water’s edge, carefully stepping over damp rocks and foliage with narrowed eyes. As per usual, you and Astarion are trailing behind the rest of the pack —you because of the hangover you’ve been nursing all morning; him because he lives to irritate you.

“I don’t understand how you feel so ill. You barely had more than a few drops of that ale.”

Slightly in front of you, Astarion steps around a patch of suspicious-looking rocks, turning to grab your arm and guide you out of the way as you scrunch up your face in disgust.

The air is way too hot to be touched. Beneath the fabric of your tunic, you can feel your skin grow increasingly sticky, prompting you to brush off Astarion's hand but reluctantly still follow with a groan.

“I drank more at camp,” you confess, feeling a pain radiate inside your head. One that’s almost reminiscent of the tadpole, pulsing in angry motions that make you close your eyes and quietly wince.

Picking up on your discomfort, Astarion slows his pace, opting to walk alongside you rather than ahead. “And why in gods name did you decide to do that?”

Immediately, you shrug your shoulders, offering him nothing despite knowing the reason. Last night at the party you embarrassingly drank to forget all those thoughts. The ones filled with visions of hands and mouths gliding across your wanting skin.

Even now you hate to admit it, but after parting ways, you were still a bit riled up. A mixture of anger and annoyance coating your soul once you finally got situated inside your tent, knowing deep down there wasn’t much you could do. Gale had already returned to camp before you so you definitely couldn’t do the deed yourself without the possibility of further embarrassment, and you sure as hell weren’t going to wander back to Astarion with your hands between your thighs, begging for release.

In the end, the only other option was to get pissed drunk, so you did. And now, you were greatly suffering the consequences in the form of a whole day’s worth of walking under the beating sun alongside an overly stubborn and nosy vampire.

“All by your lonesome?”

Without even having to think, he looks at you with the kind of false pity that makes you want to drown him. To lace your fingers in his perfect locks so that you can better shove his face into the water, never to hear that damned voice again.

Gods, is it ever tempting...

Rolling your eyes, you swear under your breath and shove him aside instead, feeling the edge of your elbow make contact with his chest before you attempt to step forward, feeling his hand pull you back.

Overall, the motion is quick and painless —a twirling rush that sends you hurtling into his frame, boxing you in in the form of a hand that rests against your lower back— but regardless it still surprises you.

“Was it because you wanted it?”

His hand lingers against your leathers as he awaits your answer. Barely putting enough weight to truly hold you back, it quickly becomes obvious that your current stance against him is of your own volition. A choice you’ve made during a moment of weak desire as you deeply inhale the dewy air.

“Wanted what?”

“You know.”

At this point, you’re positive he knows that you secretly like it when he touches you. When he physically guides you through difficult terrain or lets your fingers brush when trading trinkets after a day of looting. You’ve never made it known that you dislike it —never protested, even during times of tense discussion. All you’ve ever done is make faces of annoyance, hoping he’ll take the hint.

He never does. Not even now, as you press both of your palms against his chest, applying a bit of pressure as you stare him down, does he think to move. To let his hand fall to his side to let you continue your stride. Instead, all it does is remain perfectly still, resting against the small of your back, waiting.

It makes you swallow hard as you take a step back, feeling the resistance of your hip as it brushes through his fingers.

“You’re really not going to admit it?” he asks then, watching you pause. Feeling you stop mid-step to cock your head and flash him a grin so utterly snobbish, that his facade of confidence finally slips.

“What? That I want to fuck you?”

Your voice is patronizing. A pointed tongue laced with poison gunning for his throat. You want him to taste his own medicine. To feel what it’s like to be on the receiving end of taunting words that fluster, so you don’t say much more. All you do is stare, waiting for him to break.

“No, that you want me to fuck you,” he corrects almost immediately, his courage returning ten-fold. Doubling down on the way your mouth slightly opens in annoyance, because even in your boldest of moments he still manages to throw you off.

It makes you want to drown yourself instead, realizing just how persuasive he can be. Without trying, it’s as if he’s perfected every potential conversation before it’s happened. In his mind, he can look at a face —hear the beginnings of their voice and already have the correct response at the ready.

“Do you spend all your time thinking of ways to seduce anyone that gives you the time of day?” As you speak, you fully step away, turning on your heel to let out a shaky breath you pray he doesn’t catch.

“Only the attractive ones, I suppose.” He laughs and follows behind, his footsteps echoing through the water as you attempt to catch up with the rest of the group.

“Attractive ones, huh?” You peer over your shoulder with a raised brow. “Is that a genuine compliment you’re offering or another one of your usual deceptions meant to butter me up?”

He doesn’t tell you. Instead, he just offers you a shrug and purses his lips, leaving you guessing —an expression that only tightens the tension that’s seemingly begun to grow.

Well, at least for you.

Since the night you let him feed, even you have to admit that you’ve found it increasingly hard to resist his charms, remembering how good it felt to just let go for a couple of moments. How, when it happened, there was an inkling of freedom that you felt was found. A new sense of clarity that arrived just as your lifeblood left.

As much as you’d deny it if asked, you think about it often. At night, when you’re lying in your tent trying to sleep, you frequently attempt to replicate that feeling, calling upon your tadpole to replay the memory of the cold, numbness deep inside your throat.

As you step out of the water onto a patch of grass, you wish you could feel it now instead of the hangover. Instead of the sweltering heat and Astarion's piercing gaze penetrating the back of your head, waiting for another response he’ll just counter.

It’d certainly make the daily trek you’re experiencing all the more bearable. Being able to forget about the aching in your skull for just a moment would solve at least half of your problems, maybe even two-thirds of them depending on how Astarion proceeds to act. On whether or not he walks in silence or—

“Do you smell that?”

You release a sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, feeling your impatience begin to build. “Smell what?”

He loudly sniffs beside you, his nose scrunching upwards dramatically before he turns his head, narrowing his eyes. “You’re telling me you don’t smell that?”

“Smell w—“

Before you even have time to react, it hits you. The foul stench of metallic burning through your mouth and nose, forcing you to cover your face with your hands.

“It’s awful, isn’t it?”

You nod, tightening the hold around your face as you continue forward, realizing you’ve somehow lost the rest of the group —something Astarion notices too, causing both of you to slightly panic.

“Oh, for fuck sakes, really? They couldn’t at least wait for us to finish our…”

As he trails off, waving his hand in the air to replace whatever words die in his throat, you catch a glimpse of an unfamiliar man up ahead, watching as the both of you continue.

“They’re probably over the hill,” you point out then, trying your best not to let the sudden nerves inside your chest get the better of you once you see the nameless man raise his hand, beckoning you closer.

“Who the bloody —do you know him?”

You look at Astarion as if he’s just said the stupidest thing known to man, still moving forward. “Ah yes, the mysterious man standing out in the open! Yes, I know him well, why?”

“Alright, no need to be cruel.”

“Says you.”

Once again, his response fades to nothing. The argument slipping down his throat once the voice of the man calls out to you.

“Maybe he saw where the others went?”

Astarion scoffs. “Or maybe he’s the one who’s been setting up all those traps.”

“Traps?”

You don’t remember seeing any traps. But then again, you’re not very perceptive when your head feels like it’s on the verge of splitting in half.

“Yes, traps. The one’s I’ve been guiding you through like a fucking cattle dog!”

Letting your frustrations get the better of you shove him aside before you can think, turning to let both hands lay waste to his shoulder causing him to stumble sideways. As he does, he looks at you with hesitant curiosity; knitting his brows together while his mouth falls open into a half smile.

An awkward laugh sounds through the pounding in your head as the footsteps draw near, prompting you to look ahead, noticing the man a few steps away, looking between the two of you.

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?”

His words sound sincere —cautious in a way that has you peeling your gaze away from Astarion's wild expression to shake your head.

“No, sorry, just a, uh—“

“A lover’s quarrel,” Astarion finishes. “You know how it is.”

Angrily you inhale, paying his obviously entertained face no mind as you continue to survey the man now in front of you, noticing the plainness of his clothes and the unkempt hair that circles his face like a halo.

It’s apparent then that he’s been on the road for some time now. He’s not necessarily dirty looking but quickly you realize he’s the cause of the smell, making you swallow hard in an attempt to suppress the sickness that follows.

“Ah yes, of course. My apologies.” He laughs —as does Astarion— while you just frown in between, trying not to blow another fuse.

“I’m sorry but can we help you?” You crane your neck and smile sweetly, letting the more deceptive side of your mind take over, prompting Astarion to quickly clue in and do the same.

“I was just speaking to your friends up there. They told me you were falling behind.”

“And that’s your business because?” Raising your brow, you watch him falter for a moment.

“I’ve set some traps along the path. Nothing too hidden if you’ve got a keen eye like all of you, but still, I informed them of their whereabouts.”

Informed them of their whereabouts? Please. This man’s trapping skills are abysmal at best.

You have to bite your lip once you hear Astarion's insult in the back of your mind, knowing he’s right. It’s one thing for him to notice the traps but for the rest of your party to as well? There’s no way they would’ve noticed if not for the lack of effort put into their placings.

“Well, uh, thank you. That’s decent of you.” You nod but make no effort to move. Instead, you just stand there motionless, staring him down, waiting for him to elaborate further so that you can better gauge this man’s intentions.

You’re certain they’re anything but innocent. Given the smell wafting off his leathers and the way he keeps glancing over at Astarion with a slight twinkle in his eye makes your suspicion only grow. Your defensive walls rising to their highest point as you look at the vampire, allowing your tadpole to reach out.

He’s up to something.

“Yes, well, I’m not hunting the likes of you so best avoid the unnecessary conflict and clean up.” The man’s gaze slowly turns to you, a hardened grin creeping through his features, causing you to twitch.

There’s definitely something off. Something far more sinister underneath that polite expression and overly eager attempt at making small talk but you’re still not sure what it is. Or what it means when he offers you his help.

“Fair point, but what are you hunting, may I ask?”

“Something terrifying?” Astarion questions. “Perhaps a dragon or a kobold?”

What if it’s you?

Your partner’s eyes shoot to yours. Immediately, they fill with something you’ve never seen before. Bordering on fear, you’re quick to notice their unexpected vigilance. The building of a thought that drives his mind to something new.

Suddenly in an instant, he’s overly alert, the movements of his shifting pupils making you wonder if maybe this is the man Astarion's been looking out for. That somewhere in his past he took advantage of the wrong person and they’ve been enacting their revenge ever since. Honestly, it’d make sense. Vampires aren’t the most well-liked of creatures, and although, aside from Astarion you’ve never experienced the company of one, it’s become increasingly obvious he’s a special case. A vampire that excels in all deceptive measures and tactics, preying heavily on whatever victims he can get his hands on. So, it wouldn’t be far off to think this man was hired to kill him.

Making use of the tadpole again, you reach out silently, feeling no reluctance as the face of a man appears at the back of your mind, towering over you. Black as the night itself, he shrouds you in an ocean of thick shadows that conceal his face but not his presence, and because of this, there’s a panic that rises through your chest. Clutching your lungs with clawed fingertips that threaten to burst them like balloons.

You force yourself not to look at Astarion as the memory continues —as an angry voice echoes through your ears telling you you’re his. That you belong to him and no one else and that if you so much as step a hair out of line he’ll hunt you down.

Before you can even react the memory fades, leaving you there to piece together the man in the vision and the hunter standing before you, knowing they’re connected by a common enemy. Strung together by a tether of motivation that ties around Astarion's throat like a tightened noose.

He’s not here to kill him but to take him away. To snatch him right under your noses by playing the unsuspecting hero.

“As exciting as those options are, I'm actually on the lookout for a vampire spawn. His name is Astarion but I fear he’s already long gone.”

His confirmation is all you need to let your guard rise further up. Allowing your fingers to stretch against your sides, readying their need to reach for your weapon, you merely nod your head and let Astarion take the reins.

“Oh, what a pity. It’s always like that for creatures to run away at the illest of moments, isn’t it?” He leans in with that same devilish grin, tossing aside all previous fears in favour of this newfound information.

“Isn’t it,” the man parrots, shaking his head with a fake laugh. “Rather unfortunate considering I’m only trying to bring him home.”

“Home?”

The word pours from your lips with such desperation that even the hunter questions your response. Raising his brow, he only slightly leans forward with interest, clicking his tongue as he glances between the two of you. “You wouldn’t happen to know this Astarion character, would you?”

“I don’t think I’ve heard of him.”

“Nope.”

You sound like two opposing sides of a coin. Astarion, ever the charmer responds with subtly, the structure of his body remaining calm and collected while you remain a ball of nerves. A tightly wound set of muscle and bone too quick on the draw for your response to be deemed believable.

“He’s dangerous, you know. A wicked thing. Or, so I’ve heard.” He’s speaking solely to you but regardless Astarion continues to control the conversation, pulling it all back with a loud hum.

“Wicked you say? Care to elaborate.”

There’s confusion for a moment. Then acceptance, prompting the man in front of you to explain. “While he’s nothing more than a vampiric spawn, he’s still got quite the head on his shoulders. Cunning, but nothing compared to a real vampire.”

You know Astarion’s fuming beneath his facade then. Eagerly awaiting to rip this man apart, limb by bloody limb once the opportunity arises. You can feel his emotions through the tadpole —the way they pulse in angry waves, threatening to spill out at a moment’s notice.

Almost instantly, it forces you to push him back. Closing your eyes for a second or two, you shift thoughts of comfort to his head, letting him know that you’re there. That if the moment comes where this hunter makes his move you’ll be ready to defend him.

Thankfully, it calms him down —steadies the rousing anger that you know is still there, lingering beneath the surface. Allowing him to take a few breaths, resetting himself for the inevitable.

“I mean, I’m no expert but considering they’re still technically vampires I feel it’s safe to assume you’re still at the risk of… oh, I don’t know, injury? A good maiming perhaps if the spawn were to be particularly famished?”

“You’re not wrong, I suppose. Spawns are particularly powerful compared to the average but considering the sun’s high and dry I’d say we have the advantage.”

“Do we now?”

The two of you share a glance. Astarion's tadpole squirms in time with your own and in an instant a plot is formed.

“Actually, now that you mention it I have heard tell of this Astarion fellow,” you muse, watching the man’s expression. How it changes from innocent hero to hungry hunter at the drop of a hat.

Next to you, Astarion nods his head, echoing your words.

“You don’t say?”

“We were actually a part of a camp not far from here last night. A big group. So, it makes sense why the name didn’t come to me sooner.” You push out a fake laugh, acting as if the whole thing’s some silly little mistake while you wave a hand through the air. “Now that you’ve reminded me though, he was definitely there, lurking about like a little leech.”

You wiggle your fingers for dramatics, earning a scoff inside your mind that has you forcing back a genuine laugh, sensing Astarion’s annoyance.

“You wouldn’t happen to know what way he was going?”

This time Astarion pipes up. “I remember him saying something but, honestly, my uh, memory is a big foggy.”

As he raises a hand to his face, gripping the bridge of his nose, you motion the man to move close. “Perhaps a bit of coin could remind my uh, lover here of the information you seek.”

Lover, huh?

Paying no mind to his internal dialogue, you rub your fingers together to signify your partner’s needs, watching intently as the man leans back and looks at you with slight annoyance before taking a moment, realizing he’s got nothing to lose.

Considering the payout will more than likely cover such costs, he quickly turns his attention to the bag resting on his hip, opening it up with slow hands that you jump at the chance to catch off guard.

Pulling a dagger off your hip, you make no sound as you drive the blade into the side of his throat. All you do is press a hand to his mouth, covering the groans that swiftly coat your fingers in blood, following him toward the ground.

“I’d say be wary the next time you come snooping in other people’s business but I’m afraid it’s too late for that, isn’t it?” you tell him, feeling him struggle. Seeing him reach out to grab the knife that sits tightly in your hand, wedging itself further into the apex of his neck. Suddenly, it makes you realize what you’ve done.

You’ve just killed a man in cold blood. And for the life of another killer, no less. Without so much as a thought, you drove this man straight to his grave, knowing that if you didn’t the probability of him gaining the upper hand would only grow. That if he survived and caught on to your ploy, he could’ve taken Astarion away.

You realize then that you’re anything but ready for something like that to happen. Sure, he may be the cause of a lot of your frustrations throughout the day but somehow he manages to balance them out with his charm. With his innate ability to provide you with a space that’s begun to border the lines of comfort the more time you spend with him.

It’d hurt too much to let him go. But it’d hurt even more knowing he’d be going back to his old life. To the one you still know so little about but feel its pain. The never-ending threat of a figure controlling his every movement. He may not have spared the details but you know the last thing he wants is to find his way back there, so you did what you had to do to prevent that. To keep him safe just as you so subtly promised.

Breathing heavily, you let go of the knife and look toward him, asking him if he’s okay.

“Okay? Darling, you can’t be serious!”

“What?”

He’s kneeling on the ground beside you before anything else, reaching to grab your shoulders, pulling you roughly into his chest. “You just asked that man to pay us money and then jabbed a knife through his throat. If anyone should be asking who’s okay here, it’s me.”

“I’m fine. Are y—“

“Shhh.”

Up until now, it hadn’t occurred to you how badly you’d been shaking. Against his chest, you can feel the tremors of adrenaline take over as your head slowly lowers to his shoulder, releasing a loud and shaky breath.

You know exactly what came over you at that moment. The fear of losing the only person that’s ever made you feel happy despite your flaws became too real and it caused you to lose all sense of preservation.

Almost instantly, you became nothing more than a weapon —a striking blade shoved through opposing flesh. You felt the threat of the moment and your mind flew through all the other possibilities, landing on the only ending where Astarion's safety was ensured.

Realizing this, you slowly move to wrap your arms around his waist, feeling him hesitate halfway through.

It’s obvious then you’ve crossed some sort of boundary, so you go to pull away, apologizing under your breath as you feel his grip only tighten.

“Are you okay?”

You’re not sure why he’s asking. Or why he refuses to let you go. “Astarion, I said I’m fine.”

“Yes but are you okay?”

One of his hands moves to cup your cheek, pulling your focus back to him. Forcing you to see the uncharacteristic care inside his eyes as he thumbs your skin. It causes your tadpole to wriggle almost uncontrollably, discovering the connection that’s there. The unspoken bond he shares with you now that you’ve proved your loyalty. It’s enough to earn your honesty. To admit that you’re not okay while he continues to hold you.

You’re not sure why you care so much for him. Maybe it’s the attention he offers in a world where loneliness is often rampant or the way he makes you laugh even during the most unsightly moments. Either way, all you know is that in this moment you’re afraid he’ll hate you for it. For letting the curtain of snide remarks and harsh jokes slip to reveal a body of emotions too big for you to carry by yourself.

“I couldn’t let him take you.”

Your voice is barely above a whisper. So inaudible against the sounds of the world around you that for a second you think you’ve spoke to his mind.

“I see that. You struck him before I could even ask him to sweeten the deal.”

“I’m sorry.”

Astarion snorts and moves his hand, letting it glide across your cheek until it finds purchase beneath your chin. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. You saw a dangerous man and took charge. Honestly, it was frightening.”

“You’re not scared, are you?”

“Of?”

“Of me?”

The laugh he lets go of is so full that this time you feel him shake, his frame rattling against yours as he taps your chin. “Not in the slightest, my dear. Impressed, maybe. A little bit turned on too if I’m being frank but no. Not scared.”

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#fear of losing it #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion fan fic #astarion series #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #astarion x you #haunted hoedown #summer writes

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marthawrites · 4 months

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could you write smut for Aemond like prompts 1, 15, 11, 52, 49, 25, 13, and 26? They are all so good 🥹 Reader could be his betrothed (Targaryen would be perfect but if you aren't comfortable then Stark is great) and Aemond didn't want to wait until the wedding

Hello dear nonnie! You requested this back in September - I apologize for making you wait so long for this story. If you're still around I hope it's what you want, and that you enjoy this rendition of Aemond and his (fanon) niece!

Shadows, Beastsong, and Dragonblood

Aemond Targaryen x niece reader

Word count: 7.6k+ (whoops)

About: Growing up you and your uncle Aemond always shared a special kinship. As you grew older, tension between your family and his rose. Moving to Dragonstone led to long years of not seeing each other. When you and your mother visited her father, King Viserys, yours and Aemond's relationship changed. It changed further, years later, upon your final visit to the capitol.

Includes: Fluff, angst, tension, and smut. Featuring incest (uncle x niece), mentions of Aemond's virginity loss at the brothel, mentions of minors sexually experimenting, male receiving oral sex, vaginal fingering, adult reader's virginity loss, and unprotected vaginal sex.

Note: Hello lovely reader! This story follows canon events. HERE is the prompt list used. Reader is technically a Velaryon!Strong bastard who personally identifies as a Targaryen because she looks just like her mother, Rhaenyra. Reader is implied to have pale skin, silver hair, and purple eyes - everything else is entirely up to you. Rhaenys has her canon black hair in this fic. I heavily debated about breaking this into three parts but decided to keep it as a single story. This fic has many firsts for me and it's different than those I've written in the past. It took a lot of effort and I hope you enjoy it!

The years following Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon’s marriage bared fruit after fruit. It wasn't long long after Jacaerys’ birth that Rhaenyra began to show signs of another pregnancy. A woman’s body goes through tremendous changes during, for, and after childbirth, and sometimes her moon cycle can take half a year to return to normal. The princess’ first moon’s blood after his birth hadn’t the chance to appear before the maester’s deemed her pregnant for a second time.

Another boy, Laenor hoped, to help strengthen the Velaryon line. A healthy babe, Rhaenyra hoped, to love and grow.

Their second child was pinker and paler than Jace upon entering the world. Unlike your brother who had a fine covering of dark hair over his head, yours was so pale it looked akin to winter’s first snow upon your head. A tiny, sweet, healthy baby girl who would grow into the very image of your mother.

And, again, after you came into the world, Rhaenyra showed signs of pregnancy soon after. Laenor got what he hoped for with their third child: another boy, Lucerys, with a splattering of dark hair over his head, too.

Another three years would pass before your little brother, Joffrey, was born. Dark of hair and dark of eyes just like his two older brothers.

As you all grew, none of your brothers showed any signs of Targaryen or Velaryon features. They all had rich brown eyes, dark curly hair, and were quicker to tan than you. Whereas you were a copy of your mother. A true Targaryen beauty: silver hair, pale skin, and eyes the color of amethyst. If Rhaenrya was the Realm’s Delight, then you were the Charm of the Realm. The only thing you lacked as a Targaryen was a dragon. Disappointingly, the egg that was placed in your crib never hatched. The older you grew, and the more you learned of the world, the more you hoped to have a dragon of your very own one day. Rides on Syrax with your mother–thrilling as they were–left you sad. You wanted to be in charge of the reins. You wanted to speak and command a dragon. You wanted the power of your Targaryen ancestors; a conqueror like Queen Visenya or Queen Rhaenys.

You and your brothers grew alongside your uncles, Aegon and Aemond, and your aunt, Helaena, in King’s Landing. As young children you all, for the most part, got along well. You and your uncle Aemond shared one profound thing together: neither of you had a dragon. It was a topic of extreme sensitivity for him. And because of this, sadness, anger, and even embarrassment hung around him from a young age. You wouldn’t lie and say you didn’t carry those emotions in your heart, too, because you did, but Aemond’s was heavier. Suffocating.

Shameful.

When everyone else trained in the dragonpit you and Aemond were known to stay in the library together. You bonded quickly through tales of your shared ancestry, love of philosophy, and the histories. Much to Aemond's annoyance, your penmanship surpassed his own. When you told your mother you wanted to be a scribe when you grew older she laughed. “Princesses aren't scribes. You will do much more wondrous things than live your life by the quill.”

You nodded, ever sweet to your mother, and still practiced your writing. Your septa and parents praised you–and Aemond scowled in your retellings. It made you giggle. It was harmless and the extra attention (however negative it seemed to be) from your uncle who was barely older than you made your heart soar; emotions you couldn’t quite name soared too.

He surpassed you in everything physical. If it happened in the training yard, he had you beat by a league.

You surpassed him in subtlety. At first, you were the one who snuck up on him. You were the one who showed him secret passageways in the Red Keep, as well as hidden nooks and crannies that had surely been forgotten.

It didn’t take Aemond long to exceed your skill, however.

Time went on and life continued. With each passing year the innocence of childhood melted like candlewax. You all stopped playing as often until play happened no longer. When once there were shared sweets, games of tag, and exaggerated stories of ‘grand adventures’ to the stables, now there was gossip. Whispered words, sniggers behind hands, and an air of aloofness that had never been there before took over.

“Why do you and your family treat me and my brothers like this now, uncle?” You asked Aemond with flushed cheeks and eyes filled with unshed tears. Whether it were anger or hurt he could not tell. Your heart couldn't, either.

“They look nothing of their father. Or my sister,” he answered plainly with an edge of something you couldn't quite decipher.

“And what of our cousin Rhaenys? Hm? The Baratheon blood runs strong in her for she is black of hair. No different than my brothers!”

“‘Tis different,” Aemond answered curtly, still refraining from speaking bluntly to you about what his mother gossiped about.

“It's not!” You proclaimed.

Not long after that confrontation did Laena Velaryon suffer an unfortunate death. Her funeral was memorialized in King's Landing with the closest of her kin. And, as the God's would have it, it was that fateful night Aemond gained a dragon–Vhagar, the largest and oldest in the world–in exchange for his eye.

A small price to pay for the way the young prince would bloom beneath her wings.

Rhaenyra’s family, as well as Alicent’s family, were all summoned by King Viserys to make sense of what happened to Aemond and why it happened. Tension swelled and crackled through the collected room like living storm clouds. You stood quietly behind your mother, purple eyes wide and scared as you surveyed the chaos. Even as all the kids yelled over one another trying to make their side of the story heard, you didn’t utter a peep. How desperately you wanted to ask Aemond himself what happened. How terribly you wanted to hold his hand through the pain of his slashed face being stitched up. How awfully you wanted to kiss him if only to let him know he could still feel something–to see if he could still feel something.

The King seemed to hold no love for his son as he asked him–ordered him–to tell the truth. You felt your heart breaking as you witnessed father and son hold a stare off that could alight the entire room aflame. Two dragons, one old and one young, challenging each other, daring each other, their teeth seconds away from rending into the other.

The following moments were a blur and you didn’t realize what was happening until Alicent ran to your mother with her husband’s dagger clenched in her hand. You screamed and were pulled away in time to not get pushed or stumbled over. Blood spilled and the tension broke in a devastating clash of emotions. Emotions you, as a child, couldn’t understand, not fully.

Kings Landing was no longer safe for your family.

During the following days, before departing for Dragonstone, you were able to sneak to Aemond a handful of times. He didn’t talk much. You never pressured him to. Often, it was only silence and your uncle’s soft sobs that filled the otherwise quietness of his bedchamber. It was at the peak of those times, those heart wrenchingly raw moments, that you would sing to him. Admittedly you were no singer–flat most of the time and awkwardly sharp at others–but neither of you cared. You weren’t even sure if the song you sang was proper in its pacing and pronunciations. It was a song you both deemed secret: learned from the pages of an Old Valyria history book, paced to your own tune, the ancient words were sung with all the wonder of adolescence.

Vhargar and Aemond’s bond had already been forged by grit, determination, and a kind of stupidity that only young boys held, and it grew by the day. You weren’t sure if Vhagar’s roars were louder while Aemond quietly sobbed into your comforting embrace, or while he was utterly silent. You wondered what brewed beneath the surface during those times. Part of you was afraid of what that silence might gestate. There were many tales of beasts being soothed by music, and so you sang and hoped your ancient song might keep his beast at bay.

“We’re leaving for Dragonstone at first light, uncle,” you said to him a little sadly. You hadn’t ever been away from Aemond. Would the libraries at Dragonstone offer the same respite as the ones here at King's Landing? Would you see hopeful glimpses of him from the corner of your eye only to realize it a play of your imagination?

While he acknowledged your words he didn’t say anything in reply.

“When do you think we’ll see each other again?” You asked softly, tentatively.

“Likely when we are grown and free to make our own decisions,” he answered, words flat.

It stung. It hurt. “Then I shall tame one of the wild dragons and fly to visit you.” Aemond’s single eye, that lovely hue so similar and so different to your own, glittered at you for the briefest second. So he can still feel things, you thought to yourself. The corner of his mouth twitched in tandem, and before you could stop yourself you learned forward and pressed the gentlest kiss to the outside of his mouth. You didn’t stay to catch his reaction for you turned on your heel and walked down the secret passage from whence you came; naught more than a whisper of silken skirts.

Such affection would be improper by Gods and men alike if you were born of a different bloodline. The Targaryens were closer to Gods than men, however, and so you did not have to play life by man’s traditions. The blood of the dragon runs thick, and your heart pulled to Aemond. A surge of energy rushed through you and you wanted nothing more than to kiss him properly. But when you turned to look over your shoulder, you only saw darkness. He was already gone.

II.

Dragonstone’s libraries were much different than the big library in the Red Keep. Over the following years, you finally, slowly, began to feel peace akin to what you and Aemond shared. Similar, but not quite.

Rhaenyra married her uncle Daemon and they had given you two more little brothers: Aegon and Viserys. Part of you missed life in King’s Landing with its bright sunshine, lavish gardens, and wide populace. Despite the grimness of Dragonstone, however, this place truly felt like home. An ancient seat of Targaryen glory, the the Targaryen's of old spared nothing while crafting this castle with arcane arts, dragonfire, and sorcery. The fabled magic of it sent your veins thrumming. If it weren’t for Aemond you might not ever want to go back to King’s Landing. Aegon’s garden was your favorite place in all of Dragonstone with its tall dark trees, wild roses, and thorny hedges. You wrote diary entries as well as letters there. You and Aemond wrote back and forth a few times over the years, but just like in childhood when games of chase were played no more, your letters, too, stopped. Still, the garden with its piney scent and tart cranberries remained your place of solace.

A letter from King Viserys arrived some time after you’d turned fifteen. Rhaenyra pulled you aside that same day, away from your brothers, and said, “father’s health is beginning to fail. I'm going to see him. Daemon said he will stay here while I visit on dragonback. Would you like to come with me? I’d love for you to. And I know Syrax would too,” she smiled hopefully, giving your forearm a gentle squeeze in annunciation.

You blinked, slightly taken back, before beaming a bright smile. “Of course, mother! I miss my grandfather and would love to see him.”

“I’ll send a raven. Perhaps he will have a belated nameday gift for you,” your mother answered with one of her playful expressions.

A return letter was indeed sent and over the next few days Rhaenyra and Daemon made plans for the upcoming week. It wouldn’t be a long stay but that didn’t stop excitement from crawling up your spine and settling in your belly. How would uncle Aemond be? It’d been so long since you two had seen each other! It'd even been a long time since you wrote to one another. Would he remember you as you remembered him? Would he even care to see you?

You donned your warmest wool and most comfortable leathers for the flight to King’s Landing. Gray clouds broke to open blue sky and the brisk salty air had you feeling like you were in charge of the flight. Syrax knew the way well and flew right where she knew to–the dragonpit.

There wasn’t a grand welcome for your arrival and yet somehow it felt more comfortable than being paraded around for hours on end and being forced to entertain a grandiose feast. Viserys–he did look ailing, much more than you last remembered–and Alicent welcomed Rhaenyra and yourself. Ser Criston Cole and Aemond stood with them.

He did want to see you!

“Father! I’m sorry we haven’t been back sooner. Daemon and I–”

Excited hugs were exchanged between the three of you, and the conversation droned out as pressure built behind your ears; dull ringing taking over as anxiety, excitement, and something else unnamed thrilled along your spine. Aemond, only a short time older than you, was no longer the boy you remembered. He’d grown tall and sharp. Any softness of childhood melted away during the last few years. Placed over his damaged left eye was a simple black leather eyepatch. It stood out starkly against his pale complexion–though, it matched the rest of his black leather attire. His slash healed well, you thought privately, but a gnarly scar remained. It looked painful.

Aemond peered at you looking at him; keen. Something simmered beneath his eye and you were reminded of singing to him all those years ago–how you’d hoped to soothe any beast that might be growing in the shadows. The corners of his bowed mouth quirked.

“Darling?” Your mother asked, her voice finally making sense in your head as she turned to regard you closer. “Are you feeling okay?”

With a quick flutter of blinks you looked up to her. “Sorry. Yes, I’m feeling alright. A bit tired from the flight is all. May I have a snack before supper?”

“Of course,” she replied with a reassuring squeeze of your hand.

Alicent smiled. You always thought her pretty. A part of you wondered how none of her children shared her brown eyes or auburn hair. “Check with the kitchen. I’m sure there’s breads and cheeses available at the very least. Wine, too, I imagine.” She looked between you and Aemond before adding, “let Aemond take you. He’s been quite excited to see you since Rhaenyra’s letter.”

“Uncle,” you breathed, surprised by your lack of breath upon saying his name. “I daresay I barely recognize you.”

“I could say the same, niece. It's been many years,” he said with an inclination of his head. “You are looking a little faint. Let’s find you some food, hm?” He asked.

At first, conversation proved to be sparse. Before, things had always been so easy with Aemond and silence had always been comfortable. Now, it didn’t feel easy nor did the silence feel comfortable. Anytime you looked up at him, or over to him, he was already looking at you. His attention barely seemed to wander elsewhere. You ate until you felt better while Aemond pretended to eat. Slowly, with effort on your part, conversation picked up. Before too long the air of awkwardness lifted and your shoulders relaxed.

Aemond seemed to notice, too.

Three days followed and each proved to be more eventful than the last. You’d met up with your aunt and uncle, Helaena and Aegon, and happily–even if Aegon's jests were more perverse than you ever remembered–caught up with them. They were married now. Though, you saw no sort of physical or emotional connection between them. You liked Helaena; you wondered, privately, if life was treating her well, and if she found any enjoyment within it. The faraway look in her eyes suggested not, but you remembered her always being a peculiar child. She didn’t always have both feet in this world, you realized, and you didn’t feel any sort of jealousy for her otherworldly gift. Did dreamers fall into a silent abyss while slumbering? Or did they even dream when they slept, resulting in a never ending barrage of sight and madness?

On the fourth day Aemond introduced you to Vhagar. Sympathy–or perhaps pity–shone in his eye when you told him you still hadn’t bonded with a dragon. “And here I remember you saying you would tame a wild dragon so you might fly across the sea to visit me?” He proclaimed with an arch of brow, snark and jest in equal measurements.

“It’s not quite so easy. I enjoy my skin and my hair. I have heard many tales of brave men trying to bond with those dragons only to end up as a pile of ash. Or forever scarred. Or–” you lowered your voice and tipped closer to him, adding with a whisper, “–lacking of limbs.” You tilted your chin, purple eyes glittering with playfulness; teasing, testing.

“Hm,” he stifled a laugh with a press of his lips. “Both of those are a marvel. It would very much be a shame to scathe the beauty of Old Valyria.”

Your heart jumped and you blushed. Surely he was only being kind, right?

He flew you on Vhargar until the spilled watercolors of sunset mottled into gray. Upon returning to the Red Keep, tucked away in one of your secret childhood places, Aemond dared to kiss your lips. Stunned and exhilarated alike, you returned the affection with fervor. He wasn’t your first kiss, but the things that sparked and webbed through your body were much more intense than any before. “Aemond…,” you whispered against his mouth. “We shouldn’t be doing this, uncle.”

“You can stop any time,” he rasped in reply, eye dark.

In a shuddered breath you admitted, “I don’t want to.”

“Me either.”

You kissed until voices and footsteps filled the nearby corridor. Hiding your giggles behind a hand, you slunk away in direction to your chamber leaving Aemond behind. You turned to see where he might be going. Already he’d turned on his heel and strode in the opposite way. He didn’t follow. That night–with a thundering pulse– you dreamt of wild roses, flying, and your hands on your uncle’s chest while he kissed your neck.

The following day was yours and your mother’s last day in the capitol. She intended to leave after lunch, and until then she let you do as you please. Requesting, of course, to be back in time to leave on time. With how much you missed the rest of your family you could only imagine how much she missed them!

“Come to Dragonstone with us. I don’t want to leave you so soon. I can show you all my favorite places at home. At the ancient seat of our family,” you added the last bit with bright eyes in hopes of seducing him away with you.

“My place is not there,” replied Aemond. “I am to stay here with my mother and siblings. ‘Tis my duty as second son.”

You knew, as second son, that Aemond would have to carve his own path with fire, blood, and teeth–heavy emphasis on the latter, most likely.

“Daemon can train you. Our castle yard has an impressive training pit. It’s different from the one here. Everything is different there. There’s some nights when the magic in the walls makes my blood sing. There is no magic like that left here,” you tried to coax him further, stepping close so you had to look up at him with soft eyes. Eager eyes.

Instead of accepting or denying your request he leaned down and kissed you like he did yesterday. And just like yesterday you warmly accepted the affection. The blood of the dragon runs thick, and dragonblood runs hot. Despite your relation, and despite yourself, you found yourself wanting. Needing. He was too. You could tell by the tightness of his pants. Two young dragons hidden away amongst sparse candlelight in a secret passage perhaps only Maegor the Cruel knew of. “I’ve always wanted to try something. Will… will you let me?”

He pulled back to peer at you curiously. “What is it?”

Slowly, running on an instinct that any wanton young woman harbored, you sank down onto your knees before him. “You can tell me to stop at any time. Okay?”

Aemond wasn’t an idiot. He nearly spent in his pants at the very sight of you lowering like that. Aegon had taken him to a brothel on the Street of Silk for his thirteenth nameday, and he lost the last innocence of boyhood within those perfumed walls; a secret not many knew. And, perhaps less knew how much he despised it–how it disgusted him. The thought still made his stomach turn.

But you? His beautiful, perfect niece, with your epitome of Targaryen beauty?

He never asked you to stop as you sated your curiosity. The rush of sensation that blazed through his body was more intense than anything he’d yet experienced. At the peak of his pleasure he swore he blacked out.

He returned the gift as best as he could with his fingers.

You barely made it back in time to your mother to fly back home. You sincerely hoped she didn’t ask any questions about where you were or why you were running late.

III.

As the Gods would have it, it would be another few years before Rhaenyra and her family were summoned to King’s Landing for, perhaps, an even more dire situation than the first: the legitimacy of Lucerys’ claim to Driftmark and its throne. It was a matter already settled many years ago by none other than King Viserys. Yet, still, conflict stirred with Vaemond Velaryon and his proclamation.

A never ending political headache for the King who’s health was in such despair it was a miracle he lived to see each new morning.

Similar to when you and your mother arrived three years prior, there wasn’t a grand welcome awaiting your family. In fact there was… nothing. Tension sparked to new heights and you wanted nothing more than to crawl into yourself and disappear. While not entirely disappearing, you and your brothers made way to the private guest bedchambers; Rhaenyra made sure to have rooms arranged for all of you prior to arriving. Before leaving, she told all of you that she would summon you later once things were settled. Or supper. Whichever came first.

Truthfully you had no plans to eat with everyone. Uncaring of any potential consequence it might bring you loosened your hair, stripped down to your shift, and plopped in bed so heavily that a plume of dust rose from the sheets. If you were less exhausted–mentally and physically–you’d be repulsed by the dust. Right now? You cared little.

Slumber washed over you like the waves you were so used to at home.

You didn’t wake until hours later when a servant rapped over and over upon your door. “My lady? Hello?”

Coughing and turning to face the doorway, you asked, “what is it?”

A young girl stepped inside and bowed. “Your mother has summoned you for dinner.”

“Bring me a plate, please. I have no wish to eat with a crowd tonight.”

She twisted her hands a few times as if in disapproval but said nothing. Instead, she simply nodded, bowed again, and left with a click of the door.

That night you ate alone and silently hoped Aemond would come find you. Surely he knew ways around the Keep that would lead him to you... But, he never did. After eating your fill you slept like the dead.

Sunrise gently woke you and gradually you began to prepare for the day. Once ready to get dressed, you were confused to see your dress on the floor instead of on the back of the chair you hung it over last night. Strange… you thought to yourself, scanning around the room for what might have caused it. A section of curtain fluttered with morning breeze and when you walked to inspect it you realized the window had been partially cracked. You laughed a short sound and rolled your eyes–how silly to be paranoid about the breeze. You couldn’t remember any strong gusts last night, but you did sleep very hard.

Fully around, now, you made your way to find breakfast. Eventually you did and broke fast with your brothers. For a few moments it felt like you were all children again. Talking, laughing, stealing bits of food off each other’s plates, it felt… good. Homey. Lighthearted in a way only they could make you feel. Once finished, they departed for the training yard and you went to explore the gardens. There might not be any wild roses here and the hedges might be considerably less thorny than those at Dragonstone, but that didn’t stop you from missing it.

Flowers, shrubs, and trees were in full beautiful display and their fragrances sent you right back to childhood. You lost track of how long you wandered. At least a full hour, surely. Likely more. It wasn’t until you heard your name spoken behind you that you snapped back to reality. Turning to look over your shoulder, you stuttered, excited and surprised, “Aemond!”

He stood taller and sharper than he did three years ago. He was a man grown, now, just like you were a woman grown. Gone were any traces of awkward lankiness. He was slim, yes, but judging by the width of his shoulders he had a strong back and arms. “Niece,” he replied. “Your brothers graced my training session earlier. As did Vaemond Velaryon and his entourage,” he paused to inspect a bit of dirt on his sleeve before folding his arms behind his back. “I thought perhaps your strong brothers might grow into their Velaryon features as they aged. But, alas, they haven’t.”

Prick.

Was he really going right for your throat? Immediately?

“Do you have so little faith in your sister’s lineage” You asked, hands folding behind your back, mirroring him, as you slowly closed the distance between yourselves with deliberate steps. “Myself and all my brothers were grown in the belly of a dragon. Birthed into this world by a dragon. Tell me, uncle, how is that any different than being seeded by a dragon?”

“It is not my sister’s lineage I lack faith in, dear niece, it’s the roots she climbs.”

Fury heated your face and for a moment you considered punching him in his stupid, sharp, beautiful nose. Or perhaps kneeing him in the root he no doubt made reference to. In the span of three heartbeats you settled for neither and instead gave him a disappointing quirk of mouth. “And here I was upset that you didn’t come to say hi to me last night.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I saw you plenty last night.” he said, tone making it seem like everyone watched you sup together even though you ate alone.

You squinted at him suspiciously. “Did you come find me to be rude, or was there another reason you graced my company?”

“We recently received a collection of books from Myr. Would you like to look at them with me?” Hopefulness briefly lit his features. Idly, you wondered what his deal was. He was an outright asshole only a moment ago, and now he offered to read with you like you did so often as children? The library always had been a place of solace for both of you. Mayhaps he was simply nervous today, on edge, and let the ugliness of anxiety guide his tongue. It would be quiet in the library–the perfect place to, perhaps, connect once again as adults.

You continued to look up at him, attempting to read his features, before replying, “sure. Only if we can have tea and scones too.”

It was his turn to squint at you suspiciously.

That made you laugh; tension began to ease around both of you. “I won’t get crumbs on the pages. Promise!”

And so, walking shoulder to shoulder, you both made way to the library. Tea and scones arrived shortly afterward. As soon as you began reading from different tomes conversation began to flow more freely. Nerves might be flying wild everywhere else in the Red Keep, but here? Safely within these walls? You relaxed. Aemond relaxed. There were no more subtle jabs at bastardry, nor Driftmark, nor anything else. Every now and then you’d laugh and Aemond would smile. Other times it was perfectly silent. When you thought him engrossed by something he read, you eyed him carefully through your peripheral vision–and sometimes with your full vision–trying to keep rising sensations at bay. Despite his sharp tongue and rude quips, he was horribly handsome. You thought he was the last time you were here, too, and now those same feelings intensified to new heights. You caught him doing the same to you. Though, he didn’t coyly turn away when caught. Tension of a different sort heated the air around both of you.

Hot-blooded.

Dragonblood.

You ate supper with your mother that night. She and Daemon discussed things from earlier in the day but you paid it little mind–yours was still on Aemond.

After supper you had a quiet night in your bedchamber. You requested a bath, and it didn’t take the servants long to prepare it for you. Soaking in the hot water was exactly what you needed–complete with your favorite oils generously added to the water until sweet florals and subtly spicy scents lingered around you. By the time you were done your fingers and toes were wrinkly and the water was tepid at best. Sitting in front of the vanity, you dried and braided your silver hair for bed. The day’s events–Aemond–proved to be mentally exhausting. Conflicting emotions warred in your mind as you laid in bed and started up at the neat lace underlay of the four poster bed’s silken drapes.

A noise at your door startled you from whatever daydream danced in your head. How was it opening? You triple checked the lock! Who was coming inside? Frozen and wide eyed, you couldn’t move from your spot upon the bed as someone silently intruded. As the figure stepped out of the shadowy frame you took note of their height, body shape, and silver hair… “Aemond!?” You asked shrilly. “Seven Hells what on earth are you doing?”

“Coming to pay a proper visit to my little niece, of course,” he answered with quiet amusement. Standing at the side of your bed, now, he tilted his head and continued, “I requested a specific guard for this duty tonight so I could slip past him.”

You looked up at him as he looked down at you, regarding you closely. Something shone behind his eye and you couldn’t quite put a finger on it. A rush of emotion rose and settled in the pit of your belly as Aemond gently dragged his thumb across your lower lip. Down the curve of your chin. You swallowed thickly. “You could have just as easily knocked like any regular person would, uncle,” you said.

“What's the fun in that?”

Silence followed as you both took each other in, that unknown expression behind his eye becoming more clear. Lust.

Did your own gaze mirror it too? The sound of your blood filled your ears.

“Do you remember the last time you were here? When we were in that passageway all alone?” He asked, tracing the backs of his fingers along your pretty face.

Of course you did. You smiled–coy–and tipped your head into his touch. “Quite well.”

A soft satisfied hum accented the curve of his mouth. “Good.” His fingers pressed against the underside of your chin as he tilted your face up to him, embers sparking through the eye contact. “I've searched for that type of release again and again and have yet to find it,” he said; desperation and intensity so evident you knew he meant it.

Shivers took over your entire body and your spine arched forward, curving as if to seek the sensation of his body against yours. “You have?” You asked between parted lips.

“I have.”

A hot rush of excitement overcame you and before you knew it both of your hands pulled on the buckles of his tunic, pulling him down to you. You kissed him fiercely and he returned it with ferocity. There wasn't anything tentative about it; lips, tongue, teeth, all meshing until you whimpered into his mouth.

Aemond pushed you back on the bed and fell atop you, one arm holding him up for support, as his silken hair draped along his face. He was so warm, and felt so good over you, that you moaned into his kiss again; he swallowed it whole.

You whined, voice raspy and sweet alike, as you tugged on the front of his belt, “again. I want to do it again,”

“Look at you, so needy for my cock,” he rumbled against your neck, kissing and nipping along the sensitive flesh. He grinned warmly into the crook there and you giggled.

Pushing yourself up on your elbows you turned your body so you could push him onto his back. The startle of his angular lovely face was more than enough reward. With the new position you could feel how hard he was inside his pants, and you wondered if he could feel your heat through the thin material of your smallclothes. You slid down the front of his body until you knelt delicately on the floor. Looking up at him as innocently as you could, your hands ran up the lean length of his thighs while you nestled between them. “You left my window open last night,” you whispered at him as your fingers began to unlace the front of his bottoms.

A low, restrained sound came from Aemond at the combination of your touch and words. “I don't know what you're talking about,” he replied with cool indifference, supporting himself partially up with his elbows so he could watch you.

A knowing smile spread on your pretty lips as you answered, “you're a bad liar, uncle.” Kissing the flat plane of his abdomen, you tugged the front of his pants down until he was fully freed; hard, solid, and already blazing with heat. You moved those same kisses lower–placing them all around the base of his need until your nose tickled with his scent. His length twitched, the velvety smoothness of him bumping your face.

Above you, he hissed an inward breath, head tilting to the side. “Go on then, this cock isn't going to suck itself now is it?” He crooned, doing his best to appear in control even though his heart thumped wildly with anticipation and the clawing ache to be inside of you–any part of you–had him going mad.

If the slick between your thighs wasn't already unbearable you'd have retorted his taunt. But, you wanted this nearly as much as him. Lifting one of your hands you gripped around his length, pumping slowly, as you rolled your tongue beneath his tip; tasting him, teasing him, coating that part of him with saliva so you could more easily take him into your mouth.

Aemond could have lost it there–would have lost it if he hadn't already fucked his hand to release prior to visiting you. “Did I tell you you could use your hands?” His eye glittered like dragonglass.

Without having to be told again you released your grip and instead held onto the tops of his thighs with both hands, the wholeness of your expression feline. You licked up each side of his cock, circling your tongue around his head, again and again, coating him to your satisfaction. And then, just when you saw Aemond's hips twitch and flex beneath you, you took him into the fullness of your mouth and consumed him.

He groaned, head tipping back. Countless times had he tried to recreate the pleasure you gave him first; no woman ever made him feel the same way and he hated them for it.

You bobbed, and sucked, and savored the hot solid length of him in your mouth. You dragged and worked your tongue against him, too, lost in the heady sensations of him. The quiet sounds he made coaxed you further and soon you became uncaring of the slobbery mess you were leaving on him. Relaxing your throat, you swallowed as much of his cock as you could. When you gagged at the intrusion you pulled your head up, only to do it again. And again. You moaned around him; wanton.

It was too much for Aemond. Somehow he grew even hotter, even harder, and soon one of his hands pushed your head down while his hips bucked up into your mouth. He panted. Peak was so close. Looking down at you, then, he saw how dazed and desperate you were as he fucked your mouth. The knot of pleasure at the base of his spine exploded and he groaned, guttural, as his balls tightened and cock released down your throat.

You about peaked with him. Breathing through your nose you did your best to take all of him, the hot pulses of his length making you clench around nothing.

“Swallow. All of it,” Aemond said down at you, slowly easing the pressure of his hand on your head.

Panting, you did. You showed him your empty mouth with pride. “Dragonseed is never to be wasted, uncle.”

If Aemond had anything intelligible to say it didn’t leave his mouth properly. Both his hands gripped around your upper arms and he yanked you up, maneuvering you atop the bed once more. Reaching to the open belt around his waist he unsheathed his dagger with a whisper of leather and steel. It glinted orange in the chamber’s lowlight. “My sweet, lecherous niece…,” he said darkly, sweetly, pinning you down to the bed as he loomed above you. “I know how to make you a true Targaryen, bastard,” he hissed the last word into the shell of your ear and reveled in the way he saw your throat tighten in defiance.

You tensed beneath him and he laughed.

“My favorite bastard,” he crooned, trailing his dagger up the front of your body. “I will make you my wife.”

Goosebumps pebbled your skin as he teased you, taunted you, thrilled you with the edge of his blade. He never drew blood. It only grazed your shift. “I already am a Targaryen,” you proclaimed, voice strong despite its softness.

“I’m going to ruin you tonight and you will let me. Mother will have us wed by the turn of the new moon.” He tilted his dagger just slight, just enough, and the delicate material of your shift stood no chance against it. He sliced it open to reveal the fullness of your lovely body; your shape, your form, your clean floral scent… all of it made his mind feral. “Marry me, niece.”

A hundred–no, a thousand–things ran through your mind all at once. You saw and felt him already fully hard once again, and the hot press of his cock against your flushed skin had you losing sanity. “I will,” you breathed, nodding. “I will marry you.”

Aemond tossed his dagger away to instead pull your smallclothes down your legs. “My darling betrothed,” he growled, shouldering off his tunic and undershirt as you lay completely bare beneath him. He didn’t even bother kicking his pants off the rest of the way before he moved between your spread thighs. “Let us promise our union now before any Gods that are watching.”

It was wrong. You knew it. And yet… Your heartbeat pounded in your ears and between your thighs. Madness. Surely this was madness. “We can’t,” you protested weakly.

He laughed another dark sound. “Targaryens are closer to Gods than men. We don’t follow the same rules as everyone else.” One of his hands moved over your breasts, sliding and squeezing over them with reverent affection. His other lowered between your legs and the tips of his fingers brushed over your budded pearl. He nearly snarled at the wetness he met there. He circled that bud. Slid over it. He worked your bundle of nerves, watching you all the while.

“A-Aemond!” You gasped, stuttering. Your nipples pebbled firmer as tension built in your belly, tightening in a way that only you were able to make happen. You needn’t any more convincing to give him your maidenhead. So wrong. But, with Aemond? So, so right. Your thighs spilled open wider for him; inviting him.

The rasp of his thighs pressed against the smooth undersides of your own and slowly, carefully, he lined himself up with your dripping entrance and began to press forward.

Your body yielded and the fullness of him was a sensation unlike anything you’d experienced before. His heat seared into you as he sunk, cautiously, through your opening and past your body’s unmarred barrier. It pinched and you winced, blushed face staring up at him with doe eyes.

Full.

You were so full.

You whimpered a little sound as Aemond’s jaw clenched and a groan rumbled deep in his chest. “You’re doing so well,” he mumbled, the intensity of his eye making you dizzy.

Finally, he was seated all the way inside you. With a heaving chest he held the position for a long moment, knowing you needed the time to adjust just as much as he did. He pulled back and eased back in, testing you. Testing himself. Fuck. He wasn’t going to last long. You were absolutely fucking perfect around him. You breathed his name again, gripping onto any part of his body that you could.

Aemond’s movements became a little more sure with each moment. It didn’t take much longer until he was taking you fully. The softness of your breasts rocked with the motion of his thrusts, your face loosening as pleasure began to take over any pain there might have been. His greedy eye raked down the front of your body so he could watch where you were joined. Each time he pulled out his cock glistened with your slick, and each plunge sent you gasping at the pressure. Never had he seen anything that made his cock, and gut, and chest ache with such need. “You look so pretty with my cock inside you,” he said lowly, barely able to make words.

“Feels good, Aem,” you simpered in reply.

His mouth crashed to yours in a heavy kiss, licking into your mouth so your tongues slid against one another. The soft sound of skin slapping on skin began to grow louder as both of you worked into and against each other’s thrusts. “I’m going to mark that pretty little neck so that everyone knows your mine,” he rasped against your skin as he kissed over your chin, your jaw, until he reached your neck. He nipped there, biting harshly, kissing over each bite mark to soothe any lingering sting. He did it over and over, sucking the sensitive flesh into his mouth until he knew he’d leave a mark behind.

You trembled beneath him, squirming with pleasure, as he fucked into you at an angle and pace that had you soaring. The balance of pain and pleasure was more than anything you’d felt before and you were wholly at its mercy. You scratched his skin as you squeezed your fingers against his lean muscle, marking him as he marked you. “‘S too much,” you whined, breathless.

He only continued. Panting, he said, “I want to hear you scream my name when you come. Understood?”

You nodded, desperate. “Yes, yes yes yes..!”

His pace grew sloppy, frenzied, as his own high threatened to push him over the edge any second. “Give it to me,” he moaned, pleaded. “Come with me.” One of his hands squeezed over your breast again, pinching and tugging the nipple, while the fingers of the other worked your clit.

“Aemond!” You gasped thinly, covering your mouth just in time to muffle the scream that no doubt released with the intensity of your peak. Aemond’s mouth replaced your hand as climax took him, too, cock twitching as spurt after spurt of his seed filled the deepest parts of your body. You both rode it out together, senses buzzing and fuzzy, while the wonderful post-climax bliss sensations intoxicated you more than any wine.

He carefully slid out from your body and nearly grew fucking hard again as he saw the evidence of your maidenhood upon your clean bedsheets.

“You will be the loveliest bride,” he said, relishing the sight of you glowing from pleasure.

Pulling the top quilts back, you beckoned him in, asking, “stay awhile longer?”

He did.

You laid together, limp and blissful, and for the first time in over three years Aemond found himself fully sated.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

To be added or removed from the taglist, hit me up!

Masterlist

Main Taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @barbiedragon @aemondtarqaryens @chompchompluke @fan-goddess @schniiipsel

Aemond Taglist: @darylandbethfanforever9 @bellaisasleep @aemondsblog @khaleesihel @sirenofavalon @doublesparrows @aemonds-fire @nikstrange @abbyandizzysmum @aemonddtargaryen @lost-and-founds @castellomargot @avidreader73 @snh96 @boofy1998 @connorsui

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aemond fic #aemond imagine #request

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morallyinept · 2 months

Text

Imbued - A Frankie Morales One Shot - International Women's Day

Dedicated to @undercoverpena whom is one of the most amazing, badass women ever. Happy International Women's Day, Jojobean! 🖤

I used a prompt from this list here. Prompt is marked bold in the story.

Summary: Frankie worships you and makes you feel like a Goddess. I mean, you are, aren't you?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub. However, Reader speaks and understands Spanish.)

Word Count: 2k-ish

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I’m doing well, and then, you try to kill me.”

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/Triggers: Established relationship/face riding/facesitting/multiple orgasms/some mild squirting/body worship/Frankie eats you out because he's the 🐱👑

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: Happy International Women's Day! What better way to be celebrated than by Frankie worshipping you! 🫠

☝🏻Whilst we don't need men to make us feel powerful, I hope you know that you're amazing, independent and gorgeous, no matter what! The world is yours for the taking, Queen. Today is to celebrate and empower all the incredible women/trans women/bi women from all walks of life. No matter your ethnicity, your background, physical capabilities, your age - YOU matter. Be proud of who you are and know that every day, you are incredible, and you are strong. 💪🏻🌎🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST | FRANKIE MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

Frankie is a sight to behold in the mornings.

Almost ethereal as the sun kisses those beaming streaks over his tan, warm skin and muscles that envelope you in strong, cresting arms.

Pink lips that truly steal the show, full and inviting, they curl into a dreamy, crooked smile that hints at a mischievous spark lurking just beneath the surface of a bruised man, who wakes with you in crumpled sheets with entwined limbs, clammy with sweat.

Sleepy orbs of polished obsidian regard you in the oncoming glow of the golden dawn, flooding through thin linens and filling the room with an aureate haze. Thick, rough fingers glide against your cheek as the heat from his breath settles into your eyelashes.

“Hueles tan bien,” (You smell so good) he grazes to you, nose running the arch of your shoulder. “Siempre te ves muy bien por las mañanas.” (You always look so good in the mornings.)

“Mmm,” you hum, relishing the hard prodding of him in between your cheeks.

Smiling, your arch like a feline, stretching and working out your back from hours curled into comatose, rigid shapes around him.

Deft hands felt around your waist pull you against him. You feel him subtly grind; a thickness rutting against you, separated only by flimsy cotton and worn elastic.

Twisting to face him, you lick up the side of his jaw, tasting the salt in his greying scruff; the silk of it smooth on your tongue as you make wet tracks through the forest of grizzly hairs. Exploring all the prominent contours of his rugged masculinity, as his tall and broad body slowly cages over your own and starts his own explorations.

His lips find yours, tongue delving in and groaning around the kisses he pelts you with, tempered with soft lips under a satiny scratch of his moustache.

“Dime qué quieres.” (Tell me what you want.) He always knows what you want, delivering satisfaction in abundance. But hearing you tell him that you crave him never gets tiresome.

Frankie kisses down your body slowly, dragging his lips, lingering in places he knows will rile you. Collarbone, nipples, hips… smooches with a swipe of wet tongue appeasing as your hands follow his head, twirling curls around your index and middle.

Parting your legs, he kisses down your thigh, up the other one, eyes darting to yours. Soft, muddy irises, pupils already blown wide as he smirks at you.

“Bésame.” (Kiss me) You say, as he stretches up to find your lips again.

You shake your head, pushing on his shoulders. “Bésame ahí,” (Kiss me there) you iterate, guiding him by the chin down to your centre.

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” he groans, almost pained in its tincture.

Frankie smiles immediately as he licks up the centre of your crotch over your panties. A wicked glint in his eye as you gasp and grin down at him.

He then slides off your cotton underwear, patched damp, without hesitation.

“Sé lo que quieres.” (I know what you want.) Frankie husks with a grin that will scorch the sun.

Already swollen in anticipation, he licks around the outer lips of your cunt, tingles travelling deep into the layers of skin as you shudder; warm breath creating cool tracks as he goes.

He nestles, aquiline nose curved perfectly to brush against you, nuzzling gently over the protruding bump of your clit as it throbs almost painfully. Ghostly mouthing, you can barely feel it as he coats you in tepid breaths; teases and prolongs the agony until you tug on the curls behind his ears sharply with a pout.

“Then give it to me,” you demand softly. And he can never resist.

He starts his complete annihilation of you with slow precision. Skilled tongue curling out, the tip brushing over your clit faintly. Watches you keenly with those soulful eyes sitting under thick, expressive eyebrows, perfectly arched to accentuate the intensity of his gaze, as that singular stroke engulfs your body with a jolt as you moan, ragged and wanting.

He does it again. Flick.

And again. Flick. Flick. Flick.

Tongue flicking faster, rumbling back and forth with speed, your thighs jerk, ripples of skin humming.

Settles into a soft rhythm of his tongue lapping and padding delicately over the tip of your clit. An explorative make out session with your pussy as he slides his tongue around the most sensitive parts, waking them up with gentle prods and flickers.

Circling around and around, looping figure eights, spelling out his name, before his lips sink further into your folds, and he suctions around that bud, sucking on it with a deep pull.

He works you up; your fingers gnarling in his hair, fisting in the sheets, pulling around your nipples as the frenzy begins to unfurl from a deep slumber.

Frankie licks down, tongue trailing the length of your slit, finding the indent of your hole that’s pooling for him. Scoops up the clear, dripping honey with the curve of his tongue and deposits it around the hilt of your clit as he sucks on it again.

Orchestrating the delicate interplay of pleasure and longing. With each passing moment, the music swells, growing in intensity and depth, like the rising tide of an ocean before a storm.

He feels you raking in his hair; dark and tousled from sleep, framing his face in a halo of unruly waves that are only tamed into submission by his cap. Fingers exploring and gripping tighter around the back of his skull, wanting more, craving the pleasure he’s conducting within your core.

You’ll crash all over him.

“I want you to come, come for me, hermosa. Déjame probarte a ti.” (Let me taste you.)

His serpentine tongue squelches through your lips quicker, drenched with his saliva, foaming with your bubbly secretions. Sticky chin, silvery hairs darker with the wet coating around his lips and cheeks, as he buries his face fully into the shrine of your cunt.

He’s done teasing, he needs you to come. Needs to taste you flooding his mouth.

“Oh fuck, oh my god, yes baby…” you drone, you babble, you speak in tongues. Your voice rasps as you tense and shudder.

With each passing moment, with each practised flick of his tongue, you feel yourself drawing deeper into that whirlpool of pleasure, your senses heightening to a fever pitch. Feeling the tension coiling within you, a tightened spring ready to snap at the slightest touch, cinching and pulsing.

A white noise getting louder in your ears.

Sticky, inflamed lips rolling back, Frankie spreads you open with his blunt, stubbed thumbs; exalting in the exquisite taste of your most intimate flesh beneath his nose.

He hums in appraisal, eyes sinking back into his sockets as he closes them in rapture at his morning feast spread before him. Tonguing your hole, contracting around nothing, desiring to be filled with him, but denial is the path to imminent release.

“Damn, you look so amazing right now,” he breathes with a husk. “Eres tan malditamente hermosa.” (You’re so damn beautiful.)

You tug at his hair more, sleep-billowed curls tightly wound around your fingers as you grind against his face chasing your oncoming release. Thighs threaten to suffocate him as he puffs out of his nose and looks up at you with molten browns.

Your back arches, a perfect curve off the mattress as you dive head first into the sun, burning up as you explode.

He’s all speed and eagerness as he has you positioned above him, quicker than you can comprehend, and begs you to sit on his face.

Pulling on his hair you smother him and he groans like a dying man; fingers pressing bruises into your ass as he rocks you onto his awaiting mouth. You flex and grind, moving against him as you feel it build all over again.

“F-Frankie!” You judder, your voice a lump in your throat you can’t swallow as you gasp for breath around it.

He rolls out his tongue; a thick, wet muscle for you to fuck and use. You rock against it, feeling it slide through your folds as you scrape back his hair, fists stuffed into the pillow.

You take from him, seek your own pleasure and finish without his cock, without his fingers. Just worshipping you with his tongue. A simple man, flat on his broad back, his queen throning on his face.

He imbues you with strength, the confidence to discard shame and revel in your sensuality as he watches you arch and let your hips do all the work. He encourages it, feeds it to you impassioned with fascination, desire and a keen sense of empowering your womanhood to bloom and blossom.

This is his happy place, an exquisite drowning in you that he conveys through sleepy, subdued eyes and satisfied, wanting groans that haunt your blood.

He could die like this, your cunt leaking into his mouth as you fuck it, unabashed and free.

Strong, deft hands pull you forward, down fully onto his face until he can no longer breathe. Snuffles of misty breath fan against your mound, as he lets his tongue swim inside you, lips suctioned around you.

He knows that even without him, you're solid granite. A force to be reckoned with. Impenetrable steel holding yourself up with the power you command from within. He’s only proud that you allow him to bask in your light, your love. The divine femininity that you let him drink mouthfuls from.

Frankie knows you don’t need his love, you choose to have it and that’s what makes him love and worship you even more.

Rocking your hips back and forth faster, your clit brushing against his nose, the hairs on his face are felt everywhere with a pleasant scratch and tingle.

You feel his digits pulling on your nipples, rolling them between his finger and thumb as you start to let go again. Start to feel the vestiges of your orgasm seep out of the lush garden of your ribs.

You feel it building, crushing against your abdomen as you let go. As you give him what he covets from you.

You give him respite, the chance to breathe as you lift yourself up for a few seconds before he pulls you back down on him with a growl, greedy for more.

He doesn’t need to breathe - he just needs you coming all over his face.

You squirm, convulsing as you come; his arms pin you onto his face not letting you escape.

“Frankie! Fuck!” You wail as your body shakes itself of its own volition.

You lean back, supporting your hands on his chest as you ride his face through it. The head of his cock is poking out the top of his waistband, flush and leaking onto his stomach as you reach for it. He gently taps your hand away.

His face is soaked, the pillow drenched as beads of your slick gush down his cheeks and into his hairline and ears.

Drowning in you, pulled under that wave, succumbing.

No, this is about your pleasure only. Your undoing.

You, you, you…

His head shakes back and forth with abandon as you grunt and shatter above him - Frankie grunts hungrily. Giant hands splay you open so he can get to every part, drink you all down.

He whines and groans as your hand slides back down his stomach, grabbing handfuls of his pudgy hips and waist with greed.

Your fingers delve into a wet, sticky puddle of his own release spurted over his soft paunch.

Your body, like wibbly jelly, collapses onto your back into the creases of the damp sheets, the sun in your eyes like a gold strobe.

You smirk as the waves roll off of you, bite your lip at how a man as strong as he is, is reduced to nothing but a wet, softening mess beneath you, ejaculating on his stomach at the mere taste of you.

Desperate for you, whining, keening and clawing for more of you against his mouth.

“Más?” (More?) Frankie grins into your face as you pant, his fingers slipping into your greased folds and teasing at your sensitive clit.

He sucks on a nipple, tonguing it stiff as you groan, watching as he looks up at you with those beguiling eyes. Melted chocolate chips that you long to taste, cloying and sweet.

“Siempre más,” (Always more) you chime, as he trails that skilled tongue back down your body, pulls your thighs over his shoulders and takes you apart with his mouth, over and over again.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this story. Happy International Women's Day! 🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST | FRANKIE MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #pedro pascal characters #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #international women's day #jett's writing

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flamingpudding · 7 months

Text

Fictober23 Prompt: 4 - "Do you even know what this means?"

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: G

Warnings: -

Tim stared at his family with pure exhaustion before letting out a sigh while covering his face with his hands because of the worried looks they were sending him after his long rant.

It had all started with a stupid school project. It was just supposed to be a stupidly simple school project. Did he think of the whole thing as the greatest nonsense project his school has ever come up with? Yes. Did he still do it? Yes. He needed the extra credits, because of some stupid meetings he had missed other projects which was the entire reason he took part in this one.

Maybe he should have tried buying his grade out of it like all the other snobbish rich kids but then he would feel guilty and the moment Alfred found out, he would have to life with the disappointed™ look. Something he really didn't want to deal with. So instead he took part in this stupid ancestry project his school had organized.

But when he had allowed the school to send in his DNA he certainly did not expect the result he got back. Because when he opened the email, he noted that it was addressed to someone named Danny Fenton not Tim Drake, he didn't even read the rest really. That should have been his first warning.

His second warning was when he had hacked into the that DNA testing facility to actually get his results back and then found a note on his data file about a near 100% DNA match to one Danny Fenton which caused them to assumed that Tim was Danny and just had sent in his DNA a second time after, he peaked through his finger onto the screen, 5 years. That should have been his second warning.

But no, Tim had actively ignored all the warnings and decided to dig into who this Danny Fenton was. Because there were so many possibilities of how they could match but only so little to explain the time difference between them sending in the DNA samples. For dear good Tim hoped to all things that there wasn't someone else to have attempted to clone him before Ra, no worse even, he hoped HE wasn't the clone in this situation.

Really he didn't want to add existential crisis to all the problems and cases he already had to deal with.

So what does one do best when they learn there was someone with nearly the same DNA you have? He looked that someone up. So that was what Tim did next. He had spent nights looking up anything he could find, summarizing all the information he found, branching off when he found other concerning stuff and then stewed in some frustration of the incompetence of some people when discovering other facts.

In the end Tim compiled all the data he had found into a 30 slides long power point. That he had presented to his family and was awaiting their reaction. Bruce had grunted earlier and the demon brat had huffed out something in between slight 25 and 26 earlier. Jason had muttered something right at the beginning and Dick had stayed quiet the entire time, so did Cass. Steph hadn't said a thing either and Duke looked just puzzled.

"Do you even know what that means?" Demon brat finally broke the silence, causing Tim's eye to twitch before aggressively pointing to his last slide still on the presenter.

"Yes, I do know what this means. I have listed all possibilities right here if you haven't noticed. And i explained possibility three, four and six on slide-"

"Replacement. I don't think that's what the brat means." Jason cut in and Tim glared at him.

"Timmy, when was the last time you slept?" Dick carefully asked and Tim directed his glare at him.

"I believe Master Timothy hasn't slept for about 72 hours now." Alfred added in with that disapproving stare of him and time looked away stubbornly. How was the amount of sleep he got relevant right now? There was a possibility of him being a clone or someone having cloned maybe even years before he started to follow B around as a kid with a camera.

Bruce let out a sigh and Steph appeared to try to hide a chuckle leaning on Cass shoulder. "He must be lacking sleep if he doesn't see the most obvious possibility considering the time line he presented on slide 18."

"Oh so, I am not the only one thinking he is missing another obvious possibility?" Duke asked and once more Tims eye twitched. Getting fed up with his family, Tim huffed and crossed his arms, glaring at them all.

"And what is it that I am obviously missing?"

"The screenshot of the mail you put in slide 3 stated that it's not a 100% match but 89%. In addition it stated in the last line a suspected possibility of a familiar relation. I am disappointed, Drake. That you would miss something this obvious."

"What?" Tim whirled around going to the slide to reread the mail.

"Considering that I am pretty sure, we don't have any sort of cloning case here Tim." Dick started his voice now slightly laced with Humor and Tim narrowed his eyes at his older brother over his shoulder. "You just discovered that you had a twin, that we probably still go to rescue."

Tim's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. He did not know what to say and before he could even catch up with what his brothers had said Alfred was already behind him pushing him towards the elevator.

"It is time for you to get some sleep Master Timothy. I am sure Master Bruce and the others will be perfectly able to handle the rest of the situation with the information you compiled. You can join them after you have rested."

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scoops-aboy86 · 17 days

Text

Twice Shy

For the April @steddiemicrofic prompt 'fool'!

wc: 454 | rated: G | cw: none | tags: referenced recreational drug use, brief angst with a happy ending, Nancy really messed Steve up, chubby Steve Harrington if you squint

Steve’s been fooled by Eddie plenty of times. When they were in school together, the guy once sold him literal grass clippings as weed and was an off-putting ass at every opportunity. Some of that could be explained by shit Tommy or the other jocks pulled, but mostly it was part of the bit. If Eddie was going to be cast as a freak, he’d be The Freak and become untouchable.

Spring Break dropped Eddie straight into a bucket of trauma and rinsed that bravado away. And Steve had bought into the idea that only cowardice was left—not judging him for it, because Steve had almost run too, back in the very beginning.

Until the idiot shocked them all by standing his ground against the demobats, saving Dustin’s life.

Being shoved against a wall one day and called “big boy” another have weaseled their way into Steve’s head. So, once the doctors clear Eddie to go home, Steve offers his because… the guy no longer has one. Wayne moves in too, and for a while it feels like having family around. Less like family when Eddie kisses him on the couch one night during an impromptu Star Wars marathon, but, yeah. Eddie’s shit starts gradually migrating up into Steve’s room until, a month or two later, he’s basically moved in.

So it hurts when Steve, who just wanted to surprise Eddie at Corroded Coffin’s first show back at the Hideout, after they played the song Eddie wrote for him, watches his supposed boyfriend sidle up to some guy at the bar and lean in to say something with that smile. The one Steve thought was just for him.

Someone drops their drink, spattering Steve’s shoes with glass shards and beer. He doesn’t realize until Eddie looks up that it was him, and, well. Of all the times he’s been fooled into thinking Eddie’s something he’s not, this one is the worst. So Steve does what he did when Nancy called him bullshit; he turns and shoves his way out the door.

Only this time, he’s followed. Can’t help thinking I used to be faster than this when Eddie catches up.

“Steve—He asked about your song!”

Pride keeps Steve moving, but his thoughts hesitate. When they’re even with the van he lets Eddie pull him alongside it, less visible between cars, relatively safe.

“Baby,” Eddie says, eyes huge and close. He smells like sweat and smoke, but thankfully not booze. “I know how that must’ve looked, but I love you. You’re it for me.”

Steve has always been the first to say it… but not this time. Feeling like a fool for jumping to conclusions, he hugs Eddie close. “Shit, Eds, I love you too.”

Permanent tag list: @hotluncheddie

#steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficapril #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #scoops words #there's something so special about eddie beating steve to saying i love you

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norrisleclercf1 · 3 months

Note

From prompt list no3, would love to see this with Jenson and presentor!wife

Making hearts with their hands when they catch your eyes and grinning widely

A/N: Part of my 6K Followers Celebrations

You were rushing around, trying to keep up with the demand of your job in the moment. You barely ate, and only had time to drink water, if your husband knew this he'd kill you.

Yes, you were exhausted and feet killing you as you ran around Spa, but you were loving every minute of it. This is what your life was like, spending it with the drivers, and others as you delved deeper into the sport you've learned to call home.

"Wait, right here is perfect." You stop and turn, the track behind you and the drivers walking around. "You sure Mrs. Jenson?" Your cameraman asks, pointing to where Sky Sports was standing not to far away. "Positive." You say and pull on your smile as you start to talk about the track.

"Oh, Max!" You call seeing Max Verstappen and he stops immediately. "Hi, Mrs. Button." He smiles and stops letting you ask him so many question. Max was always a sweetheart with you and even babysat for you sometimes. Max preferred you to interview than anyone else.

"Do you think you'll win?" You ask, it was your signature, to ask the drivers what the wanted at the end of the race. "Hmm I would hope so, but the Ferrari and McLaren are posing threats, but we'll crush them." Max says and Charles happens to be walking by and snorts. "Up yours," He grumbles. "Hey, boys, we're life." You point out and they quickly duck out of frame.

"Live from Spa, I'm Y/n Button, and you're watching F1 TV." The camera points down and you look over seeing Jenson staring right at you. Of course he was, you were wearing one of his Williams shirts. He doesn't even care that he's on live TV when he gets a wide grin and throws his hands up.

You turn into a blushing mess when you see he's making a heart at you and you're thrown back to when he was driving for McLaren and you were a new nobody reporter. Still having the picture of him giving you the heart hands from the cockpit. No matter how many years pass, you two were still 20 years old and swept up in love.

Jenson drops his hands and laughs and you can hear him explain what he was doing. "I was just saying I love you to my wife. It's something I've done since my McLaren days. It's how we communicate when we're busy. She's right there," Jenson points and the camera pans to you and you sink in on yourself and wave,

"Love you!" Jenson yells and he giggles seeing you rush away.

Let's just say, that went viral and people wanted nothing more than to be run over by a car on a highway.

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partycatty · 4 months

Text

i was sent an incredibly delicious prompt to use, and i just can't resist it omg. requester wanted to be anonymous, but just know i appreciate u! i won't lie, i ran into so many blocks trying to get this out. writing is hard :( i ended up taking a couple creative liberties anon i hope that's okay

bi-han > new tricks

johnny cage's girlfriend catches him cheating, so she tries to get back at him using bi-han. it's all fun and games, until something new starts to blossom.

warnings: u get cheated on, THIS IS NSFW, author struggles to write johnny in a bad light bc of their favoritism /j, accidental bottom bi-han

notes: i'm rubbing my hands together like a little fly rn, also bi-han's betrayal doesn't happen in this case, also also yes i made a gif of johnny getting his shit rocked for this fic thumbnail

masterlist <3

PART 2 !!!!

•you and johnny got together following the end of the storyline's events. he charmed you to holy hell and back with those dumb sunglasses and pickup lines at the academy. he was a sweetheart at first, love-bombing you endlessly until you accepted his thirtieth relationship proposal. deciding to stop dragging him along like a lost puppy, you finally said yes, and off you went to date a movie star!

•the change from being nobody to somebody was JARRING. suddenly, cameras were up your ass all the time, and you caught yourself staring out of your apartment window on multiple occasions to see people scurry away when they're spotted.

•even so, you can't lie. the parties that celebrities hold rival outworld's temptations. especially if johnny is hosting. despite downsizing from his mega mansion, his new home was still expansive enough to hold a large number of people. and boy did he take advantage of the space.

•everyone was a few drinks deep, you yourself were a little buzzed but with the intention of loosening up and socializing. johnny however, seems to have other intentions.

•johnny is canonically a recovering alcoholic. he'd indulge in a girly drink every now and then, maybe some whiskey on a really shitty day. but today, he must have combined the two flavors of vice and was now fitting his clothed dick into some random C-list actress's ass, grinding to the music. his sunglasses sloppily clung onto his nose and his face was flushed. drunk or not, he was dry humping some random broad at his own damn party, with you only a few feet away.

•you want to scream so bad, to tear her bleached blonde hair to the ground and beat her, and then johnny. but all you can do is stand there horrified, that is, until johnny looks up from his buried face in her neck and makes eye contact with you, eyes wide.

•"babe — goddamnit — babe!" johnny slurs out, holding your arms tight on his balcony. "it's not... fuck. it's just fun! it's a party! lighten up!"

•after a drunken back and forth, johnny eventually throws his hands in the air and tells you to fuck off because he can find better at that very party. although you heavily disagreed, the conversation abruptly ended when you slurred something back along the lines of "you want some other bitch? have 'em then!" officially ending your relationship and storming out of the party.

•the following few days were rough on your heart, and majority of the time your bed was occupied and loud sobs echoed across your walls. you could've had it all, dammit, and this dickhead just threw you away like nothing! he thinks he can just score any woman he wants, whenever he wants. even if he learned his lesson from cris, his playboy attitude runs in his veins. it's not something he's gonna shake easily, and you were a victim to his unchanging behavior.

•back to living with nothing, you decided to retreat to the one place you knew you were wanted; the lin kuei compound. bi-han, kuai liang and tomas respected your strength when it came to fighting against evil and welcomed you like their own.

•after about three days of living on the lin kuei's land, you check social media. you went ghost online after the breakup since the paparazzi and article rats were prowling the internet (and your home) for details about your breakup with the A-Lister. checking social media proved to be a stupid move, because almost instantly your feed was flooding with photos and videos of your ex-boyfriend partying on yachts and posing with models. he's really out here posting like he's not damaged in the slightest, but literally everyone and their mother can read the post a little deeper and see he's compensating for losing you. you were mature, well-spoken, and well respected, and he was still trying to get his shit together after everything that happened. you were just another crack in his shittily held together glass. and it was time to get back at him.

•it starts off innocently enough, you snap quick photos of the grandmaster when he's not looking, showing only his veiny arms and a hint of his blue uniform. you'd post it to your story to pretend to soft launch this new "boyfriend," linking a romantic song to the post and letting people run wild. this proved effective immediately, as you noticed that "UgotCAGEd" with the little verified mark would view your story almost the exact moment it'd go up. you knew that he knew exactly who was in the photo, and it just had to have been driving him up a wall. he even tried to combat this by posting more and more, each setting getting more lavish and sexy than the last. if anything, johnny was a chronic 1-upper. but you couldn't just post blurry pictures of bi-han forever. this needed to cut deep.

•and you were going to play this stupid game, because if he goes low, you go in the TRENCHES.

•"grandmaster sub-zero, i-i have a favor to ask you," you politely ask, bowing once before smiling up at bi-han. "i have a plan. a... ridiculous one. but it needs your help."

•"you want us to fake partnership?" bi-han asks you, trying to summarize your lengthy explanation. "go ask kuai liang. or tomas. they need something to do these days, with shang tsung imprisoned. i'm busy."

•"it can't be them, it has to be you," you respectfully protest, putting your hands in a prayer position to beg for his help. "johnny is... jealous of you. it would be most effective. and i'll be forever in your debt." bi-han's eyes momentarily widen at your insistence. your desperation for his help caught him a little off guard.

•it's true. johnny was jealous ever since he got his shit kicked in when they first met. they were never really huge fans of each other since then. standing in front of him now, it's easy to understand how bi-han was so superior. his emotions never took control, he was a powerful leader for his clan, and his furrowed brows and gravely voice rumbled inside of your chest... jesus, now that you're getting a good look, he's actually pretty hot. oh, no.

•"this is ridiculous," bi-han groans, trying to angle himself just right in the selfie. he stands behind you, hand wrapped around your neck as you try to angle the photo just right to where it only gives a tease of his face in the mirror's reflection. "how long does one photo take?"

•"it has to be perfect," you reply, eyes focused on your phone as you wiggle it in different directions to get the best possible view. "crouch down a little more, so more of your jawline shows."

•he leans down, and his breath fans across your neck and ear as he sighs in frustration. you can't deny the little tingle it made you feel inside. but hey, anyone would be nervous if a brick wall like bi-han was in breathing vicinity...

•you snap the photo, seemingly satisfied but now fighting a flustered expression. when you look it over, you realize no, this isn't enough. johnny would leak his own sex tape with a model to beat you at this stupid game, and while you weren't necessarily ready to start blowing the ninja, you knew you needed to get one step ahead.

•"can we take... one more?" you ask sheepishly, already trying to put into words what exactly you're going to ask from this expressionless man.

•"only if it's quick," he replies with a frown, crossing his arms.

•you take a deep breath, spinning to face him and nearly chest to chest from the tightness of the small bedroom you were given.

•pointing to your bed, bi-han almost instantly understands. his lips turn into a thin line as his cheeks are brushed with warmth, warmth that he tries to conceal from you with his hand as he rubs his face.

•he sits himself on the bed, propped up on his elbows with a knowing look in his eye. it's difficult to maintain eye contact as you crawl onto the edge of the bed, hesitant to do what you wanted. for a moment, you want to pull away and trash your entire plan. there's no way you were about to climb up and sit on a ninja grandmaster's lap as revenge against your movie star ex. how in the genuine hell did you end up in this situation??

•"come on, woman," bi-han grumbles, sitting up for a moment to abruptly wrap his hands around your hips and pulling you to sit atop his lap. you tense up, realizing you're now straddling him... and lowkey, he looks good under you. he also just manhandled you. hm. curious.

•you try to shift yourself to comfortably rest on his hips before seeming satisfied with the position. shakily, you reach up to snap a selfie, one that conceals his face but shows you sticking your tongue out and flipping the bird.

•and then you felt it.

•at first, it went unnoticed due to your nerves about the uncharacteristic closeness. but, once you settled to snap the photo, you realized that... bi-han was rock fucking hard underneath you. you weren't sure if you should acknowledge it, but regardless, it felt so perfectly sized against your clothed folds, and you make your interest unintentionally obvious when you let out a nervous whimper. bi-han's eyes remained trained onto yours with a hint of hunger in his low-lidded gaze. even though he wanted to initially hide the boner, it was now abundantly obvious and he felt a surge of confidence gauging your reaction. the hands that rested on your hips tightened, his cold fingers digging into your flesh.

•"you feel that?" he grumbles out, his body feeling suddenly incredibly hot against yours. you swallow and nod. as you do, his firm grip starts to rock your hips back and forth against his cock, the friction of the fabric dividing you two sending you wild already. "whose is bigger?"

•"...yours," you answer breathlessly, allowing yourself to be controlled by the cryomancer's hands. your confession was true, too. johnny's dick was long and lean, but bi-han's.... lord. it felt thick. even through layers of clothes it felt like it could tear you down the middle if he pounded hard enough. a new part of you wanted to find out.

•with a sudden haste, bi-han hikes up your skirt and top, holding the clothes bunched around your waist as he abruptly gives you even closer contact to his cock. you could feel it twitch and throb, and every part of you wanted to sink it into your throat to see how well it hugs your mouth's fleshy walls. his hands crawl underneath the bunched up clothes and settle on your hips, this time directly gripping the plush of them.

•a shiver shot down your spine, both with sudden arousal and the frosty trails on your body from his fingertips. even if he wouldn't admit it, he was just as excited as you were. he let out a low growl feeling your pussy leak through your panties and dampen his dick.

•"i hated the way he looked at you," he'd grumble, eyes fixated on the friction he was creating by manhandling your frame to grind against his. "wanted you all to myself — ngh —"

•you wanted so badly to stop and unpack that wild, sudden confession, but you were already fiending for his popsicle like a motherfucker. through your hazy vision, you see bi-han lock eyes with you, a devilish glint present. he reaches between the two of you and palms himself while you try to relieve the pressure on your clit using the back of his hand.

•finally fed up with the foreplay, bi-han pushes you off of him, making you elevate your body on your knees. he tugs his shirt up and his pants down. his member springs free from the tight constraints, and lord help us all, it's as long and thick as it felt through the pants.

•"you wish to get back at that pompous wannabe?" he asks, voice dangerously husky. "get to it then." obeying like a dog, you settle between his parted legs. still holding his dick, he slaps it against your cheek expectantly.

•the tension, the hunger, and the high emotions overtook your strength to remain proper in front of the grandmaster as you eagerly licked at the base of his shaft, trailing kisses all the way to the warm tip. once you feel properly sure of his size, you slowly but surely sink him into your mouth, barely able to get his dick deep enough without causing a strain on your jaw muscles. bi-han tries to keep his arousal under wraps, but when he feels you hollow out your cheeks to give him the greatest pleasure possible, he lets out a little whine of surprise, though it still sounds more animalistic due to his grumbly voice.

•you hold this position for a moment, letting your warmth completely encapsulate his freezing body. you were starting to see stars in the corner of your eyes before bi-han harshly pulls you up by your hair, making you sputter for breath. a thin trail of saliva follows your lips as he raises your head.

•"wait," he commands breathlessly, fumbling with his other hand to find your phone that was discarded onto the mattress. when he does find it, he struggles even more, mind blank from horniness and also his unfamiliarity with smart devices. you chuckle to yourself, climbing back up to his chest and weaving your way between his arms to show him how to record a video. when it's finally figured out, you crawl back down to where you were and grab his cock with a full hand, stroking it lazily. he winces.

•"sensitive already?" you ask in a low tone, giggling to yourself. bi-han didn't have much time to relieve his sexual desires, so it's no wonder that the slightest bit of head nearly sends this man flying to the moon. "i expected more from you, grandmaster—"

•"—shut the fuck up," he replies sternly, not finding your teasing all too funny. "i'll silence that whore mouth."

•woah

•and with that, he holds the phone up, angled downward at you as you angle your lips on his tip again. he grabs the fistful of your hair and sinks you down once more, this time holding you in place. you barely had time to get some air in before getting your throat thoroughly plugged. you put your hands on his thighs to ensure you'd stay upright, but always sure to look at the camera as you gag and drool.

•"that's more like it," he'll purr, pushing your hair from your face as he holds you still. he then directs his voice to the camera. "how about that, cage? taught your dog some new tricks. i'd say she's exceeding expectations."

•when he finally lets you breathe, you only get a couple gasps before willingly taking his cock again, this time bobbing rhythmically. bi-han, as a ninja, is incredibly good at staying silent, so all he can do is let out occasional exhales and sharp intakes of breath as you suck him off.

•you're sure to put on more of a show than usual for the video, looking into the camera with a sultry smile even with your lips stretched out to accommodate for his giant dick. you've got an expression that says "fuck you."

•when bi-han has enough of your pace, he starts to buck his hips into your throat, creating a nasty gargling sound in the back of your head that would be otherwise nauseating. you're surprised he's not ripping the hair straight from your scalp as he death grips a fistful. frosty hands grip the sheets, solidifying them with a thin sheet of ice as he nears the edge. his body can't decide between lurching forward and arching back as you make him cum.

•he's a silent orgasm-haver. bi-han bites down hard on his lower lip as he releases, clenching his eyes shut and knitting his brows together. and boy, does he love to ride the high of fucking your face. he loves it even more knowing he'll have an audience.

•he wanted to cum into your mouth so badly, but even he knew better. he had to make the money shot something memorable. cum painted your face beautifully, dripping down your cheeks and catching in your eyebrows. there was even a thick streak starting from your hairline. with no time to ever do this himself, his jizz accumulated within him for quite some time, now soaking your entire face.

•bi-han stops the video, but only to snap photos of your messied, flushed face. gripping your cheeks to hold you in place, he's sure to make sure every drop of cum is within camera shot as he catches his breath.

•you swipe a glob of his load from your forehead and stick your finger in your mouth, tasting his arousal for you with a smirk.

•"definitely sending that to him," you giggle as he tucks his dick back into his pants. "i'm in your debt, bi-han." normally, he would've protested the use of his first name from an associate of liu kang, but he was too high from his orgasm to really give a shit. instead, he grumbles a small "mhm," and nods, fighting a little smirk himself.

•he stands up and grabs a loose towel, holding up your face more sweetly this time as he wipes you clean. the gesture was oddly soothing. he seemed like a pump and dump kind of man, and he probably is! but you're touching a sweet spot he didn't know he even had. even so, he's silent, never once communicating this and instead expressing it through the minor gesture.

•a relationship doesn't quite blossom yet, but the sexual tension between you two is now incredibly obvious to the lin kuei. his gaze lingers, as does yours. the touches during training last a moment longer. your silly little plan of making johnny angry seemed to have blossomed a new... situationship? we'll unpack that some other time.

•the following morning, your phone rings. it's johnny.

•"DID YOU BLOW THE FUCKING ICE NINJA?!"

#mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat #johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #mk1 #bi han #bi han x reader #johnny cage smut #sub zero #sub zero x reader #bi han smut

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marvelsmylife · 2 months

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Protecting his high lady

Pairing: Rhysand x reader

Plot: After finding out why you’ve been depressed and on edge, Rhysand will stop at nothing until he sees you happy again.

a/n This is part two of Not As It Seems. I hope you guys like it. I’m accepting requests, specifically Rhysand and Cassian because I feel like I haven’t written enough of them. (As you guys can tell Azriel is kind of my favorite but I want to explore writing about the other two bag boys 😂)

ACOTAR Masterlist

Prompt list

Request

After ushering their friends out of your room, Rhysand carried you onto your bed, where he spent hours soothing you. After many hours, you finally revealed that your mother was responsible for your current state. You revealed that she has been demanding money from your bakery ever since you opened it, and now that you were married, she expected you to take his money so you could give it to her.

Rhysand was livid. He couldn’t believe your mother would treat and exploit you that way.

He was prepared to show up at her door and kill her. Unfortunately, you begged him not to: “I know she did this to me, but she’s still my mom. I can’t let you kill her.”

It was moments like these when Rhysand wished you weren’t so kind-hearted. “Ok,” Rhysand gave in to your plea: “Let’s go to bed then; you’ve had a long and draining day.”

The following day, Rhysand informed the others about what you had told him, and they were all livid. Amren and Mor begging to track down your mother and make her pay for the pain she has caused you. Sadly, Rhysand prohibited them from doing anything but told them he was going to have a little “chat” with your mother. Since he promised not to kill her, he just decided to give her a little fright.

“Make her regret making our high lady cry,” Amren told Rhysand before he left to track down your mother.

It did not take long for Rhysand to track down your mother. He only had to ask a few fae’s about your mother’s whereabouts before they gave him her address. When he arrived, he was surprised with how rundown your mother's house looked and wondered where the money your mother was receiving was going.

Rhysand knocked on the door furiously before your mother shouted for him to calm down and that she was almost at the door. “Oh Rhysand, how may I help you?” your mother looked flustered, realizing she spoke rudely at the high lord.

Rhysand had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at your mother’s sudden mood change: “It’s high lord to you.” Your mother stammered out an apology for how she addressed her high lord: “And I’ve come here to let you know you are prohibited from contacting my mate. You've been abusing her generosity for too long, and it stops now.”

“You can’t do that ! ! !” your mother argued back: “She is my daughter, and I’ll speak and treat her as I please.”

Rhysand’s eyes darkened at your mother’s words: “Careful how you speak about my mate, who happens to be your high lady. She might be kind, too kind for her own good, but I’m not. I will make it my personal mission to make your life miserable if you continue to contact her.”

“What am I supposed to do about money ?” your mother asked, realizing now that she might have to get a job again.

“I will give you enough money to last you two years. After that, you are on your own. You are also prohibited from stepping foot inside y/n’s bakery. That place is her safe space, and I’ll be damned if you ruin her safe space for her.”

Your mother wanted more than anything to argue with Rhysand that he could not do that to her. She didn’t though. Not when she realized Rhysand was now inside her head and knew he could kill her that very moment. “Ok, I’ll leave her alone,” your mother finally caved: “But I hope you both live miserable lives together,” before slamming the door in Rhysand’s face.

Rhysand had a satisfying grin on his face at the outcome of this situation. He kept his promise to you, but he got his point across, and he was happy your mother was no longer going to be a problem for you.

The minute he landed back at his townhouse, Rhysand went to your room to tell you what happened. Once he finished telling you what happened between him and your mother, you started to cry against his chest. “You didn’t have to do that,” you whispered into Rhysand’s chest.

Rhysand placed a kiss on top of your head and replied: “Of course I did. You’re my high lady and my mate. I’ll always protect you.”

All you could do was hug Rhysand as tight as possible and start thanking the mother that she has gifted you an amazing mate.

@paankhaleyaar @amara-moonlight @favsrachz @fxckmiup

#rhysand imagine #rhysand x reader #acotar imagine #acotar x reader

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 4 months

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Hallowed

Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader Warnings: Toxic relationship dynamics, face sitting, smut. Word count: ~1.3k

Summary: Her Early Medieval Literature essay is due, and Michael has his own cruel way of ensuring she stays focused.

Author's note: Can be read as part two of this fic, but also works as a standalone. Day six of the Smuffmas prompts - "future and face sitting". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

She lounges on Michael’s bed, clad in only knickers and one of his t-shirts, a copy of the Canterbury Tales grasped lightly between her fingers. Her eyes move over the words of Chaucer, but take none of them in, how could they? His long fingers draw lazy circles on her ankle, her legs stretched out up to the pillows where he reclines, the duvet wrapped around his bare midriff while he reads from a textbook called the Book of Proof.

Life feels simpler since Michael has entered it, despite the turbulent beginnings. She has given up her friends, under his advice, and there is now far less pressure to conform. Her only focuses are her studies and pleasing him, the latter of the two she takes great pleasure in.

It is always on his terms; when they see each other, what they do, how they do it, and despite his obvious initial inexperience he is a fast learner. His ability to make her fall apart, to make her relinquish all control is something he does expertly. The slight fear she feels towards him only adds to the excitement; he could destroy her if he wanted to, but if she plays nicely then he won’t, and she is more than happy to play nicely when the rewards for doing so are as satisfying as they are.

She sighs, his fingers upon her flesh making her core throb with want, even from the simple gesture of absentmindedly touching her leg. She lets her book slip from her fingers, raising up on her elbow to look at him.

“Michael…” she whines.

He looks at her impassively, adjusting his glasses. “The first of your three essays is due soon, isn’t it?”

“Mmm,” she responds with a roll of her eyes, flopping back down and stretching her arms above her head. “Early Medieval Literature.”

His hand moves from her ankle, fingertips ghosting over the exposed skin between the hem of his t-shirt and the waistband of her underwear. “And what have you written?”

She shivers beneath his touch, squirming slightly. “Am I really here to study?”

“I’ve no interest in sleeping with a failing literature student,” he pulls his hand away and she immediately misses his warmth. “So tell me.”

She groans in frustration. “Oh, I don’t know. Probably something about irony in the Merchant’s Tale.”

His textbook thuds closed and she hears the heavy sound of him dropping it onto the bedside table. When she chances to glance up at him she sees he is sitting straighter in the bed, his gaze hardened as he looks at her. “Probably?! You mean you haven’t started it? Have you even thought about your thesis statement, your in-depth analysis or how you’re going to conclude your ideas, if you’ve even had any?”

“Oh, come on,” she says softly, sitting up and reaching for him. “There’s still time. Can’t we just–”

“No,” he cuts her off. “I’ve been spoiling you, and it’s made you stupid.”

“I’m not stupid!” She protests. “If I remember correctly, it was you who called my degree a ‘glorified book club’.”

“You still need to try,” he tells her, frowning.

“You don’t try,” she argues with a shrug,” and marks in your first year don’t count towards the final degree.”

“I don’t have to try, but I still get firsts in everything. Marks this year may not count towards the final degree you get, but they count towards you keeping your scholarship. Think about your future instead of being a fucking brat for once in your life.”

His words are a sharp sting to her already fragile ego, and she lowers her gaze, fighting the sudden urge to cry.

“I’m not touching you again until your essay’s handed in and I’ve seen what your mark is.”

Her head snaps up, eyes wide with disbelief as she looks at him, searching his features for any indication that he’s being unserious. She finds none; he really means it.

“And you’re not to touch yourself. I’ll know.”

The next two weeks are torturous for her. On the occasions that Michael does invite her to his room, there is no more casual half dressed lounging on his bed. Instead, he has a study space set up for her at his desk, and won’t allow her to speak or leave until she has at least a thousand words written.

They meet up in the library during free periods so that he can read through what she’s written, and her skin burns hot with humiliation each time he screws up a page and throws it into the waste paper bin, calling her arguments “lazy” and “uninspired”.

It lights a fire of determination beneath her, but bubbling under the surface is also a heightened state of arousal, driven by the lack of intimacy, and the fact that she finds that she likes it when he is so authoritative over her.

By the time she has finished, she has produced an essay that both her and Michael are satisfied with; it discusses the use of irony in Chaucer’s poem, the Merchant's Tale. She has used a number of excerpts and lines from the poem for analysis, revealing the instances of irony in each, and from this has determined that the irony Chaucer used in the Merchant's Tale is controlled.

Her eyes light up when Professor Ware hands it back, and she sees the 85% that’s circled at the top of it.

A first.

She feels giddy with excitement as she knocks on Michael’s door that evening, brandishing the now dog-eared pages at him as he opens the door.

“A first, I got a first!” She squeals, watching as he takes the essay from her, his eyes moving slowly over the top page.

“Hmmm,” he settles it down on the desk, removing his glasses and placing them on top. “Take off your jeans and underwear.”

“Wha–what?” She stammers, her grin fading.

“You want your reward, don’t you?” He asks, moving to lay back on the bed.

She swallows thickly, excitement fluttering in her lower belly, as she quickly complies, ridding herself of the clothing that covers her lower half.

“Come here,” he commands softly.

She joins him on the bed, a gasp leaving her as he manhandles her until her knees are positioned either side of his head.

“My clever girl,” he whispers. His words could be mistaken for softness, were they not directly juxtaposed by the rapid darkening of his blue eyes, and the way his thumbs drag across the indentations between her thighs and pelvis. “I knew you could do it, you just needed a little…push.”

He drags his tongue from her opening all the way to her pearl, and her jaw goes slack, the wet sensation making her clench as she falls forward, hands clawing at the wall in front of her.

His grip on her thighs tightens and he tugs her flush against his face, the sloppy sounds of him devouring her are lewd combined with the wanton cries of pleasure that tumble from her lips.

She feels her mind go blank as he inserts his tongue inside of her, keeping it rigid as she begins to grind herself in a circular motion, keeping his nose pressed against where she needs it most, desperately chasing the release she’s needed the last couple of weeks.

His hum of appreciation reverberates through her core, and as he withdraws from her, plush lips wrapping around her sensitive bundle of nerves she feels herself fall apart as the growing ache intensifies, completely at his mercy as he laps at her, while white hot waves of pleasure wash over her.

She raises up when it becomes too much, jerking at how oversensitive she feels and gazes down at him through heavy lidded eyes, breathless.

He looks like an utterly different person without his glasses, almost kind, though she knows better. His chin is shiny with her slick as he smirks up at her.

“You’ve worked so hard,” he says quietly, though the edge of malevolence to his voice is unmistakable. “But don’t worry, you can give that pretty little mind of yours a rest while I fuck you stupid again.”

She is powerless to resist as he tugs her back to his face once more, beginning the exquisite torture all over again.

#michael gavey x reader #ewan mitchell #michael gavey x y/n #michael gavey x you #michael gavey smut #michael gavey imagine #michael gavey saltburn #saltburn michael gavey #michael gavey fanfiction #michael gavey fan fiction #michael gavey fan fic #michael gavey fanfic #saltburn #saltburn fan fiction #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fanfic #saltburn fan fic

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ino-tamukas-baggy-sweater · 4 months

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The Blessing to Your Curse - Part 1 (Ryomen Sukuna x Reader)

Hey y’all I’m back again so soon with another fic, Sukuna’s lover reincarnation (whatever you call it) has me in a chokehold right now and I thought I’d share this with the world. Would like to warn you there is a lot of strange jumping around/pov changes which are indicated by the change in pronouns, I would mark each change but it would get a bit messy after a while so I hope it’s not too hard to follow! ^-^

Reader’s powers involve something I like to call ‘blessed energy’ which is the opposite to cursed energy and is mostly used for healing (reverse blessed energy is used to harm in the same way reverse CE is used to heal) and it’s something I created to use with my writings in the JJK universe. (sometimes I write it a little op because im a self-indulgent piece of shit so for most of what I post I’ll probably dial it back if I use it hehe) The reader has a similar situation to Maki/Mai (MANGA SPOILERS AHEAD) where one twin is restricted and the other has all the energy, and when the one with the energy dies the living twin gains all the power, so I hope that makes sense in context of the story

(PLEASE DON'T HESITATE TO SEND A REQUEST!!!! I'M ALWAYS IN NEED OF NEW PROMPTS AND CHARACTERS TO GO WITH THEM ❤)(I have a post which outlines characters I mostly write for but I'm open to adding to that list!!)

Warnings: mild description of mutilation (sukuna’s transformation), main character death (not described), fluff

Word count: 2.4k

“Ryomen!” You laugh, trying to keep a few steps ahead of the young man who chases after you. Your legs tire easily, body frail and sick despite the immense power flowing through your veins. “I’m coming for you!” He growls playfully, “Better run!” He’s holding back from his top speed, this you know well, but you refuse to let that stop you from trying to keep up with his childish play. Still young, 16 and 17 with him being the older one, you insist that you would rather spend the rest of your life here with him than being shepherded around in the village like a priestess.

This is your only escape from the temple on the hill, only solitude, your time with Ryomen Sukuna is precious and you treat it as such, thinking only of him and his rare smiles. You refuse to let the village’s words taint your view of him, as powerful as he is with his cursed energy there is good in him and you seek to nurture it, for both simple selfish gain and so he doesn’t turn on everyone like they did him. You reach the treeline and race out into the meadow, the grass tall and soft around your waist having stripped down from your daily ceremonial robes into just modest loose undergarments.

He does eventually catch up near the middle of the meadow, springing out of the grass and tackling you to the ground, making sure to roll so you land on top of him and he takes the full force of the fall. The last time you returned to the village after a long day of simple play with bruises and scrapes you weren’t allowed to leave the village for a few weeks.

He’s grown quite a lot larger than you during his time in exile, to be expected when you have to fend for yourself against wild animals and build your own shelter, “You’re getting stronger every day,” You smile, pushing yourself off him and laying in the grass, staring up at the beautiful pink of the sunset. “Well I have to, to be able protect you, I’m not the only thing out there you know,” He says, his tone almost too blasé for what he’s implying. You tilt your head and trace the lines of his tattoos with your eyes, “I know you’re not, but you’re not a thing to me Ryomen,” You murmur, “Please, you’re the closest thing I have to a friend, you’ve always been human to me,”

He meets your gaze, his eyes used to be brown, but the red no longer worries you like it used to, “One day I’ll get you out of that village,” He says softly, his words for your ears and the rustling grass only, “I will take you far away from here and we can live somewhere untouched by the rest of the world,” You sit up, looking down at him as you hug your knees to your chest, “I’d like that,” You say, smiling, “Just the two of us,” Nothing could touch you while you were together, the world stood still for you, not even the scathing remarks you sometimes got from the other young girls of the village could hurt you.

The world is volatile, things can change so quickly. Curses are still so new to the world of humans, sorcerers that act as protectors are only just starting to appear among humans and spread themselves between villages when the day finally comes. The wave of hatred and anguish that came with the curses suffocated everything in its path. You were outside the village when it happened, returning from a visit with Sukuna, and you returned to find nothing but death and destruction. More than half of the village had been killed with no discrimination towards age or gender, and it only soothed you a little to see your old family home empty when you wrenched the door open. No blood nor bodies of any kind. Your parents and sister had made it out alive, but the temple atop the hill that you resided in was completely engulfed.

You weren’t naïve, you did not attempt to return to the temple, but they came for you all the same because your energy was like a beacon for them, and they were programmed to destroy. Running with Ryomen had improved your strength over the time you spent together, you supposed that was one of the ways he took care of you in his silent brooding way, but it wasn’t enough to get you all the way to him. He must have sensed your fear as you grew nearer, your breaths shallow and your chest tight, his eyes are the last thing you remember seeing before your soul was harshly liberated from your flesh.

The smell of blood permeated through layers of warmth that held you in suspension beyond life, but you felt yourself being dragged back to the ground, standing over your own body as you watch the only person outside of your immediate family who ever truly cared for you cry. You had never seen him cry before, it was cathartic to know even he still felt human somewhere inside while holding your weak broken body to his bare tattooed chest.

You felt his cursed energy filling the air like smoke, almost able to see it in the purgatory state you’re trapped in, his body shaking and his muscles twitching. It was like watching someone turn themselves inside out when it finally happened, his body began changing before your eyes, an extra pair of arms sprout from the top of his ribcage just under the normal ones. His face contorts with an agonized cry and one half becomes unrecognisable, the flesh pink and hardened into some sort of twisted mask, and to finish the monstrous transformation a second pair of eyes open under his regular ones.

Drenched in sweat and breathing heavily as he cradles you, you hear him make one last promise, one that locks around what remains of your essence like chains and puts you into a deep sleep. “I will burn this world for taking you from me, I will become the King of Curses, and when you are reborn I shall make you remember, make you my Queen, I will bind myself to you to protect you,” It’s the final part that reassures you he isn’t losing himself as the darkness consumes you, “When I find you, the world will be right once again,”

Now it had been over a thousand years since the light in Sukuna’s life had gone out, reducing him to a killing machine that punished the world for snuffing it out, and he had returned once more in the body of a naive 15 year old boy with pink hair. Having been preserved as twenty separate cursed objects since his untimely death he was eager to resume his self-assigned purge, but the boy had more control over his body than Sukuna could break through, leaving him trapped within his innate domain watching through Yuji Itadori’s eyes like they’re windows.

“I had to do it at least once,” He grumbles to himself as the boy sits up, stark naked, on the morgue table, surprising the three sorcerers in the room with the formerly dead boy. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet, Yuji, come,” Gojo instructs as the boy slips on some clothes handed to him. “Another sorcerer?” He asks. “You’ll see when we get there,” The taller man beckons him and they make their way to a house on the furthest outskirts of the Jujutsu high campus, small in size and surrounded by forest on all sides except for the path leading up to the entrance.

A fire burns in the chimney and the house is warm when the pair steps inside, “L/n!” Gojo calls out. Sukuna’s attention is elsewhere as around the corner down the hall out walks a pure angel, her energy blinding and her form strong. “Gojo!” She smiles, “Who’s this?” “This is Yuji Itadori, Ryomen Sukuna’s vessel,” She bows politely, “Welcome to my home,” She looks back up into Yuji’s eyes as he smiles, “It’s nice to meet you!”

“Enchain!” Sukuna shouts, and suddenly he’s thrown violently to the forefront of Yuji’s mind. His trump card, wasted. He hadn’t considered the potential consequences, it had been instinctual and foolish of him. The girl didn’t know who he was, but he wanted to speak to her all the same. He would make her know. He cannot stumble, he cannot falter, not when she’s right there and all he has to do is show her, “Y/n,” He murmurs. “That’s not Yuji,” She frowns, her voice soft, “That’s-” Before the two can react Sukuna is on his knees before her, holding her hands in his and hiding against her soft clothing. “I’ve…” Gojo trails off, “I’ve never seen that before,” The girl doesn’t let him go, and he feels her power reach into him, feeling around in the darkest parts of his soul, “My Queen,” He mutters, feeling the metaphysical chains around his heart tighten, “Please, remember,”

A fast surge of energy from Gojo causes the man on his knees before you to react just as quickly, pulling you tighter against him and then seemingly teleporting out the open door into the clearing, “It’s rude to attack ROYALTY!” He roars as Gojo steps out the door after the pair of you. Sukuna has planted himself firmly between the two of you, “You sorcerers never learn manners!” Something happens when your skin next touches his, his hand shooting out to catch you by your wrist as you fail to keep your balance.

A flood of memories that don’t belong to you, in fact, ones that belong to him. You see yourself, weak and frail but smiling widely, Sukuna as he is in front of you now not as he is described in sorcerer texts. A regular human man with an abnormal amount of tattoos, fiercely protective and full of love for the only person who still sees him as human. You vaguely feel yourself fall to your knees as everything from the day he was exiled to the day you died returned to your mind. You knew that despite the life you had lived for twenty years, you were in fact over a thousand years old.

This wasn’t your life, this wasn’t your body, it was hers, but you are her. You can feel the chains, too, the ones he put there the day you died to ensure that you would return. “The world took her from me, and the world paid the price, now BACK OFF!” His words shake you out of your visions, his hand still clutching your wrist as your head hangs weakly.

“Come now, Sukuna, taking hostages isn’t your style, you know that,” Gojo bargains, “Let her go, and we can fight like men,” You shake your head, “No,” You murmur, “No, Gojo,” You finally look up into his eyes, slightly uncovered as he prepares to fight, “He’s right, I know who I am, I know where my clan comes from,” He doesn’t make a move towards you and you take the opportunity to speak again, “My mother was blessed, her child would calm the beast, but she had two and one was weak in body strong in energy, the other was lacking in energy but strong of body,” Your sister had been the one the clan records mentioned, nobody remembered the girl who died alone in Ryomen Sukuna’s arms.

“I am the Queen to Ryomen Sukuna’s King,” You breathe, feeling his grip on your wrist go lax. His energy dies away and he falls to his hands and knees, but the tattoos are gone. “Yuji!” Gojo’s shoulders finally relax and he recovers his eyes, “What happened? How did he get through?” “Don’t ignore me, Satoru,” You state firmly, “Sukuna will not be a threat while I am alive,” “Can you guarantee that?” He’s always been intimidating, but this man was a part of your training as a sorcerer, and he can be rational when he wants to be.

“You’re an imbecile if you think I’m going to go back on a binding vow,” Sukuna spits from Yuji’s cheek, the boy not even having a chance to get a word in, “She is the only thing in this forsaken world I care about and you’re not about to take that away from me just so you can pretend like you’re the saviour of humanity,” You don’t remember ever being as harsh as Sukuna is right now, but his rage fills you with confidence and admiration, “I can guarantee humans will not fall as long as I am alive, his vow makes sure of it, though I’m sure he would not need it either way,”

The secondary eye on Yuji’s cheek closest to you locks its gaze onto you, “Ever so cunning, I wish I’d had the chance to nurture your hatred towards the village, maybe you’d be more open to killing,” He sounds almost wistful, “But alas, I did make a promise, and I intend to keep it, no matter how idiotic I think you sorcerers are,” You finally move to stand back on your feet, helping Yuji up with a tentative smile, “It’s nice to meet you Itadori,” You murmur, “I’m sorry you have to listen to that punk, you come to me if he gives you trouble alright?” The boy nods, his previously cheery demeanour replaced with something mellower and he seems deep in thought as he looks into your eyes.

“He really loves you,” He murmurs in disbelief, “I didn’t… I didn’t think he was truly capable of love, after what he did to me,” You shrug, “It’ll make sense one day, but I’ll let him be the one who opens up, it’s not my place to air out thousand year old dirty laundry with people who are long dead anyway,” Your words hang in the air as Gojo finally sighs. The discussion and conclusion are finalised when he leaves, Yuji will live with you and you will suppress Sukuna’s energy. You will keep the world safe by preserving your life, lest another binding vow come down upon your departing soul and the King of curses be forced to unleash his merciless fury once more.

Sukuna is a little shit and out of character because it’s my fic and I get to write the male love interest however I want (I tried besties :( I don’t like mean Sukuna but I do love “I hate everyone but you” so that’s what you get) also I wrote this instead of sleeping at 2am, the brainrot is real and this will probably end up being a series because I can’t control myself

Part 2 here!

Post dividers from @cafekitsune

#jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #true form sukuna #ryomen sukuna #yuji itadori #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk sukuna #heian era #jjk x reader

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